fandomhigh

The Danger Shop had been arranged to appear like a room inside a castle today, with one long table with benches on either side taking up the center of the room and faded tapestries hung from the walls. Goblets of water and place settings at each seat might give students some idea that this was to be a feast.

"Welcome," Tyrion said, once the students seemed more or less settled in their places. "Last week, we covered dancing -- and I thank my assistants much for that. Today, we will talk about another sort of event: The formal dinner. Honestly, these things can be deadly in more than one way, so what you're mainly trying to do is get out alive, healthy, and without any new enemies."

( A table manners lesson. )

He took his place at the head of the table, unfurled his napkin. "And now we will begin."

Oz was nowhere to be seen when his class arrived at the Danger Shpo, but there was a screen and projector set up outside the wagon, with a note attached.

Watch the film

There was also a bag of unpopped popcorn. It too had a note.

Make popcorn if you want.

[Post away]

Once Billy had gotten settled in behind the desk, he got onto the computer, and started researching everything he could find on goats. He didn't know if they'd be visiting again, and god knew that punching goats probably wasn't the normal way to handle them, but he liked being prepared just in case, okay?

"We come into life shaped in a certain way," Ender began. Outside again: the weather continued to work with him, which pleased him. Even if there were dark clouds on the horizon. ( On transformation. )

“Today, we’re taking a slightly different look at art. I want you to pair up, and this is part an example of expression, and part a trust exercise, so pick your partners wisely.” On the tables in front of them they would find a variety of tubes and pots. “On the side you’ll find some henna,” and she picked up a tube to illustrate. “Most of you probably know it, but for those who don’t, it’s been used in many cultures in their body art since the bronze age, right up to today when it’s going to be used by us.”

Angela continued for a few moments about the preparation and history and passed out a few examples she’d printed off and showed the back of her own hand as a ‘this is what I did earlier’ example. “You can use these as some inspiration, but also bear in mind you should be trying to reflect something of your partner in there.” Hopefully. But she supposed that depended on how well this lot knew each other. “It’s all non-permanent and should wash off, but you can still have a little practice on a piece of paper first. I know some of these are really intricate, and I don’t expect you all to spend hours on this, but since you will be drawing on someone else, you should probably take requests.”

“If you can’t work a henna tattoo.” Say if you had fur. “It also can be used as a dye, so you can go red for a little while.” You know, if you weren’t already like say Angelica. “And if you don’t want any of your classmates or there’s just an odd number, I’m around too.”

Class was taking place in the Danger Shop today. That was different, though it had been planned. Class was also apparently starting ten minutes late, which was also different and completely unplanned. It was a rather annoyed looking Trick who eventually opened the door to let all the students (and their Brownie companions) into the shop, muttering something about goat in the simulation interspersed with foreign words.

( Don't worry, kids. Just ancient Celtic swears, nothing to see here. )

"Kelpies are far more dangerous than their pwca cousins. They are water-horses, which means you will often find them close to large, deep bodies of water. Once you climb onto their backs, you cannot get down again until they choose to release you. Which they will--after they have dragged you down to the bottom of the closest lake or river and drowned you. They only release their magic after you're dead, so they can eat you." Cheerful, no? "These days, random horses are rarer and most people don't ride, so they take the form of naked youths in ponds, pretending to drown and calling for help. If you see someone drowning with kelp in their hair, think before you rush in and try to save them. Not acting might doom an innocent person to their death. Playing the hero might doom you." Trick looked very serious for a moment, and then added, "Unfortunately, there's no easy way to tell a leanan sidhe from the human she's pretending to be. Doing so takes magic of your own. So my only suggestion for dealing with them is to be very careful who you trust and read your contracts very closely."

The room was filled with the sound of wailing babies and toddlers, and was definitely more pungent than usual.

Be afraid, children. Be very afraid.

"Ah, the smell of fresh diapers in the morning. Don'tcha love it?" Deadpool said brightly. "It's like sitting in New Jersey."

“Or Nar Shaddaa during the humid season,” Anakin said because that would help anyone but Atton. “Clearly the children can’t stay like this. You could try to potty train them but that, frankly, takes the kind of alcohol we can’t provide to students.”

Deadpool nodded enthusiastically at that. "There was this time with Jan--wait, you kids don't need to know that story. Cliff Notes: we had to get a new couch."

Ew.

"So, you all are gonna learn how well a kid who is old enough to walk around does when you have to change them. Here's a hint: not well. Hint number two: oh god, what is that brown smudge on the wall? Hint three: It's not chocolate."

“Ew,” Anakin said, making a face. “That was not my modification. Also Juliet peed on the dog last week. I’m not sure who was more upset--there was a lot of crying from everyone.”

"Ooo! Ooo! The dog," Deadpool suggested. "I know the score here."

They were the worst teachers ever on this subject, you know. Or the best. One of those two.

“Anyway,” Anakin said. “This is a diaper.” He held one up. “The tabby things go around their waists. Do not substitute or augment with duct tape, staples, or--no matter how much they beg--sparkly princess stickers.”

Deadpool made a sad face at the no on duct tape being used. Because it was amazing, Anakin. Amazing. "Soooo, you kids are gonna practice on some children who have not had naps and drank way too much apple juice leading up to this. Because it's not a challenge without adding a few fun things in there."

“If you must, you may watch a brief instructional video for more details,” Anakin concluded. Too bad it was about making a baby out of diapers instead of diapering a baby.

Oops?

Students coming into the Danger Shop today would find it set up like a mad scientist's workshop, complete with buzzing tesla coils, a jacob's ladder, and strange looking amorphous bits floating in jars. Pinkie herself sat behind an old rolltop desk, wearing a giant white beard and poking her hoof at an extremely old telephone. A freestanding roll chart stood behind her.

"Welcome, everypony! Today's class will be an adventure indeed, filled with passion! Intrigue! Racing! And -- goats?!"

That last bit came out as a horrified squeal when the Danger Shop was suddenly invaded by a tribe of evil goats. They stormed through the door, knocking over equipment and floaty jar things with wild abandon, knocking poor Pinkie off her chair and gleefully eating her antique telephone and free standing roll chart.

It was all extremely terrible, especially considering how the roll chart had been full of fun facts about Alexander Graham Bell, like the fact that he came from a family of elocutionists and had become fascinated with sound transmission and communication in part thanks to his deaf mother and wife. Or the fact that he narrowly beat out Elisha Gray for the patent for the telephone, some said by nefarious means. Or how he went on to work on many other projects, making contributions in the fields of magnetism, aeronautics, and medicine (though some of his contributions to the later weren't all sunshine and rainbows!). It was, in fact, a well thought out and put together presentation full of detail (gleaned from Wikipedia) and not too many assumptions, beyond the mad scientist setting, but no one would ever see it, because of the evil, evil goats.

It was punching time.

[ooc: Yeah, I totally couldn't resist. Goats are moddable, and OCD is up!]

As everyone came into class today they would notice two things: one, that on every desk there was a single, face-down index card, and two, the Victorian-era detective at the front of the classroom today was not the usual one. Technically, he wasn't actually a detective, but rather an aspiring one. But whatever.

"Mr. Holmes is, at the moment, indisposed," William informed the class. 'Indisposed' was really just a nice way of saying 'distracted by some experiment and completely forgot he had a class to teach'. But that's why he had a TA! "And so it falls to me to teach today's lesson. Which is on stereotypes." He cleared his throat and tugged a bit on the hem of his jacket before continuing. "A stereotype is a standardized and simplified conception of people based on prior assumptions. It differs from a prejudice in that a prejudice is a feeling regarding a person or persons. The difference is reflected in the etymology - the Greek stereos, or firm, and typos, or impression, and the Latin pre, or before, and judicium, judgement. So the former is a firm impression, the other a pre-judgement."

"Stereotypes exist for a reason, and having an understanding of those stereotypes can help us blend in when we find ourselves in situations where people of that particular group may be present. Upon your desks you will find a card, and if you flip over that card, you will find that you have been assigned a role. Your task is to use the totally moddable costume rack at the back of the room to craft an appropriate representation of what you perceive to be a stereotype regarding your assigned role." He paused, considering. "I realize many of these are somewhat specific to a current-era Earth context. If you require assistance, I am of course happy to provide an explanation, and you are welcome to help each other out as well."

[ooc: ocd-acomin all done! posted for the drowning-in-work onemoreproblem.]

The students would find themselves on a desert island, surrounded by a clear blue ocean, the surf mild. Summer was already in the water, sitting on her board.

"I thought today, we could just spend the period practicing techniques and just getting used to using your boards in the water. If you want to learn something more or have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them for you."

[OCD is up.]

Today, the class was meeting in the Danger Shop, which had been preprogrammed so that it was already something other than just a room by the time the students filed in. It looked a lot like a street in contemporary London, in fact.

So why was their uniform-clad instructor looking even pissier than usual? Probably because the simulated passers-by were giving her odd looks and not-so-discretely pointing at her costume, occasionally whispering amonst themselves, and snickering.

"Right, today we were supposed to do a simulation where you do a heroic act on the street, and then try to generate as much good press as you can from it afterwards," Electroclash drawled. "But since the fucking machine in this room refused to cooperate ––" Or maybe she'd spilled coffee on something, causing it to go on the fritz until it'd dry. They'd never know! "–– you're just gonna have to walk around a quote unquote normal, capeless London."

Which explained the sims' attitude towards her costume. You could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

"Well, get to it, then."

[OCD up!]

The Danger Shop was set up to look like a park today... if the park had been designed by someone with a really strange sense of fun. For one, halfway between the playground-- which was where the students would find themselves upon arriving-- and the picnic area stood a small but twisty maze of shrubbery. Just past the maze was a very large (but shallow) patch of muddy ground, and on the far side of the picnic area stood a tall, smooth-barked tree. Anyone listening closely, or who happened to have enhanced hearing, might be able to pick up on faint but plaintive mewing from up in the branches.

"So what are you gonna do when you have a thing come up unexpectedly, and you have to solve it with a quickness?" Kennedy began conversationally. "No time for research or making plans, and maybe you're in over your head because this is something you've never had to deal with before? In a group, that is. By yourself is different. I mean, the thinking on your feet is the same, but there's a whole thing about communicating and being on the same page as other people that makes things tricky."

She turned around and waved a hand at the setup in front of them. "So here's your sitch. You have a big important party to get to in an hour. Real fancy, black tie, missing it is not an option, oh, and you're already dressed up and on your way there. Except there's one problem. That cat stuck in the tree? Supposed to be a present for the guest of honor. You're gonna need to get it out of there... and you need to go through all of this to do it. Could get messy if you're not careful. Good luck with that."

Inspired by something she'd had to do last week? Maybe, yeah.

She paused as if remembering something, then added, "And watch out for the random clay guys lurking in the maze. They're not very friendly."

[[ocd up, up and away...]]

"Let's talk about cell phones," Steve announced today. "By now you have probably been introduced to the concept, if not, a telephone is a device that allows you to communicate instantaneously with people over long distances, and they've been around for over a hundred years, so some of you are probably already familiar, while the cell phone is a wireless version you can carry with you anywhere. They're a relatively new invention, only really becoming widespread around the turn of the century. Most have additional features, such as a camera and the ability to connect to the internet, and some go even further.

( Cell Phone Blee )

Bond had his class meet him in the Danger Shop again this week, which was set up as a computer lab. If they were wondering why they weren't having class in an actual computer lab, the fact the computers were rather ...beige might have been a clue.

"Good afternoon class," Bond greeted them. "You might be wondering what computers have to do with survival skills, but there are certain useful skills you can help develop by playing video games. I'm hardly talking the murder-simulator nonsense certain groups like to harp on about, but you can improve your reactions and hand-eye coordination, as well as certain kinds of situational awareness or modes of thinking, depending on the game in question."

"So let's begin."

Bond turned on the computers and the glorious sound of Ad Lib and SoundBlaster filled the air.

[ooc: wait for ocd up]

[Class Roster|Class Rules]

Class met in a standard classroom today, albeit one with a number of phrases scrawled on the backboard. Top to bottom, the students might read: ( Cut for poetry & Taylor Swift warning. )

"So today, you're to write a love poem of your own. If you feel you cannot write -- and I believe you can, but we will not force you to -- you may research and find a poem you can imagine sharing with one you love. Song lyrics are a form of poetry, you know."

"Don't just pick something that sounds pretty, pick something that means something to you, or reminds you of him, her, or it. You'll score brownie points if it's clear you mean it," Dojima finished.

"Thank you for not having hooves today," Jaye said when class started, then looked around to see whether anyone actually did have them or not. "Anyway, last week your prompt was animal transformations and the island was really nice to you."

But not to Jaye, who'd spent the weekend handwavily as a pony using a squirrel helper to take her pictures for her.

"So you're going to show what you've gotten in the last week, and then your prompt for next week is..." She had no idea. She'd been an orange pony all weekend and she was a procrastinator, what did you expect? "Pie. Or turtles. Or both. It's a prompt, do with it what you will."

Today, the class had handwavily been told to meet in the Danger Shop. When they got there, they would find themselves in a replica of a park, surrounded by skyscrapers; those from this world might recognize it as NYC's Central Park. Their teacher was standing before a replica of Bethesda Fountain, typing away on her Blackberry; perched on the Angel of the Waters sculpture were three creatures. They stood as tall as the average human, and nearly looked human -- flabby torso, legs -- except for the heads and wings, which looked like birds of prey. They only wore socks, so when the Manbirds shifted on their perches, you could see a long, feathery appendage dangling between their legs -- not their genitalia. Just the tube that protected it.

( Don't Feed the Manbirds )

"Last thing. Next week, bring some money -- yours, or if you don't have any, someone else's. We're going shopping. In Hell."

William had spent the weekend handwavily as a pony, running various sorts of endurance and strength tests on himself. As one did.

Today, he was back in the library as usual for a Monday, and while the thunderstorms had thankfully cleared up, they'd been replaced by rainbows.

The library was open, and colourful!

Ronan was looking a little tired this week, at the front of the class; the TV and DVD player beside him indicated exactly how tired he probably was.

"Movie week this week," he said shortly, shrugged. "Sorry, guys. But this film has a lot to say about choices, on a lot of different levels: the choice to fight, the choice to give up... I don't agree with every choice made. But I can see why the characters chose the way they did."

[Wait for OCD is up!]

"So you've said hello and you've done the NAT thing and everything," Jeff began, "and then things start moving along, you know? Like it's an actual relationship and the girl-- or boy-- actually really likes you. And it seems like bliss, you know? Someone has actively passed you the keys to paradise." He gestured to make this clear. "And you're ready. You're really really ready. But!"

He slammed his hands down on the desk.

"There's the elephant in the room, isn't there?" he said. "There's always going to be an elephant. Staring at you. Waving around its voyeuristic trunk of life-destruction."

Yes, he was illustrating that with his hands, too.

"Because see, at the beginning, at the very start, you were so nervous, you told this one terrible lie. This one horrible, wretched thing that is now devouring you from both ends and fusing your poor pants to your valuables!"

Getting a bit too graphic now, Jeffrey.

"And you know you can't have sex with her or she'll find out what's going on in your drawers and she'll run really fast and leave you alone again, but you can't not have sex with her either because she's your girlfriend, but she doesn't know yet, so she's like, she's, like--" His voice was starting to go shrill, "Schroedinger's girlfriend!"

He made a little choking noise.

"What do you do?" he declared to the class. "What. Do you. Do?!"

There was a long silence.

Which grew longer. And longer. And longer.

Okay, so maybe Jeff didn't have an answer to that.

Finally, he just produced a very large glass jar with a lot of notes in it and gestured at it. He was clearly having trouble speaking, but surely they could divine the meaning of this test now, right?

( Possible notes ranked one to ten. )

Today's class began without Yakko at the front of the room. But it DID feature him doing a voiceover seconds after the lights went out.

"The year was 2012. There was a workshop at a big fancy high school on a small fancy island called Steven Spielberg's Presents: History. A lone genius named Yakko decided to make that class title a little more literal than usual just for one week."

"And so this week, Yakko Warner Presents: A Historical Film By Steven Spielberg: One of the Illinois Smith Movies!"

A flashlight turned on by the students' desks, shining a bright light on the whiteboard. And then Yakko started performing a half-remembered compilation of all four Illinois Smith movies with scenes in random orders, some characters missing entirely, and some clearly replaced with Yakko playing himself. And it was all done with shadow puppets.

It was probably best to just accept that there was no physical way for Yakko to be doing the highly complicated shadow puppets he was making with his hands. Otherwise, your poor brains would probably be shattered by the opening titles sequence, which featured detailed credits, all in the proper fonts and logos despite Yakko not using any props. But frankly, the fight scene with the Nazi aliens in the nightclub while a teenage greaser kept signing 'no no no no no no no no' was probably the most impressive part, since that would have required at least seven hands more than Yakko had.

He kept this up for the whole class period. At no point did the presentation seem to approach an actual ending.

[OOC: I worked 13 hours today and didn't get home until just before midnight. And Monday's going to be nuts. So this is the best I can do at the moment. Sorry about that.]

Due to Karla and Warren transforming, Raven knew to expect ponies when she returned to Fandom for her library shift. She'd brought with her sugar cubes and a basket of apples and carrots for any hungry ponies who possibly couldn't bring themselves to munch on grass, and she set these out near the door. Then she settled behind the desk with her laptop to catch up on anything she'd missed over the week.

It took a lot to keep Cassidy from showing up to a shift at the library.

Fortunately, finding herself suddenly turned into a pony was not on the list of things that would stop her.

She managed to use Craft to do something with all of the hair she had with the mane and tail and then headed out to the library. Rather than getting overly upset about the lack of opposable thumbs today to open doors with, she used Craft to pass herself through the walls.

Once in the library, she did her best to sort out which books went where and then floated them to their positions.

Sometimes, it was a good thing she was such a cheerful person all of the time. She knew she would be teling Karla about this and sending her photos because she thought she made a cute pony. She wondered how much begging she would need to do to keep Karla from showing Morton, though...

The library is open and the Cassidy Pony will do her best to help you!

It was not Tyrion at the front of the class today, but two wolves and an assassin.

Weren't they lucky students?

"The Professor," Firekeeper said, "have been stuck elsewhere. So today, you get us."

"No matter the world, or the court," Surreal supplied, "One thing will always remain constant: at some point, you will be expected to dance."

"She speak truth," Firekeeper said with a nod. "So today, we are going to teach you a simple spring festival dance." ...For varying definitions of ‘simple’, of course. "Outside."

"Which means, of course, out of your seats," Surreal prodded, starting to usher people towards the door. "Layabouts."

It was how she showed affection. Really.

Once they were outside, the students would see a large, thin tree that the girls had co-opted into their temporary maypole, having tied long ribbons on to a wreath which Surreal had placed up at its crown.

"It is spring," Firekeeper announced. "And in one of the kingdoms of my world, this mean it is time for the Rabbit Moon dance. Lucky for you, is very close in form to a dance from this world called ‘Maypole’. So, we shall do that." She picked up a ribbon, while Blind Seer grasped another in his jaws. And gave the class a look that just dared anyone to laugh.

"We have a similar one, in Hayll," Surreal shared, going over to poke at the little CD player. "It's not hard - the goal is to weave it around the tree. Over, under, over... until it's all tied up." Or until your classmates were.

Once the music started, Firekeeper and Blind Seer (well, mostly Firekeeper, Blind Seer’s legs weren’t exactly designed for human dances) demonstrated the appropriate dance steps as well as the technique for weaving the ribbons together. Once they were satisfied that the students understood the steps, they dropped the ribbons and gestured for the class to come take over.

[ooc: OCD up! Posted for the fabulous halfman_lion who's in internet exile atm, woe.]

Today Oz's class found themselves back in their covered wagon, which now smelt of wet oxen. Probably because it was raining outside of the wagon. As each student entered, Oz pressed a slip of paper into their hand.

"Welcome back, kids," he greeted them. "In the time since our last class, you've been making good time along your journey. Or at least you started to after Laurie found the map and you realised you were headed slightly off course. Otherwise it has been quiet and without incident, though it has been raining the last few days, and since you can neither hunt trade or cook in this weather, you've been on short rations and tempers are beginning to wear thin. Now if you could just glance at the slips of paper I gave you and then eat them?"

After they'd done so, Oz continued. "This morning, when Fortunate went to give everyone their breakfast, the biscuit tin was empty. Turns out someone was snacking out of turn, and it was the person with a dot on their paper."

"So, how do you figure out who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? And what do you do about it?"

[Post away]

The great thing about working in the library was that Billy could look at whatever books he wanted, and not feel weird about just wandering through the shelves looking for something interesting. Today, he had an introductory book on sign language, just for fun and to see if he could learn anything in a day. So far, he was getting the alphabet down pretty well.

It was still nice weather out, and so Ender had decided to hold class in the exact same spot that he'd done last week. He came a little later this time, though, giving the students time to situate themselves and maybe get some talking started before he had to start talking.

( I'd like to start by talking about something Britta raised the other week. )

The art room was set out a little more normally than last week. No coffee this time, because it really didn’t go very well with practical art. You could not imagine the number of times Angela had almost drunk dirty paint water.

Not that anyone would find that a problem today. In this case, it would be dirty clay water, which was almost as bad.

“Today, we are experimenting with pottery,” Angela announced. “Which I think you’ll love. I hope you all paid attention to the sign up note about wearing clothes that can get dirty.” Clay dust got everywhere.

“The preparation is almost the best part of this, and the most therapeutic, because it basically amounts to hitting some clay”, and Angela launched into an explanation of some different varieties of kneading and exactly why she thought this was remotely relevant to art therapy. “Once you’re happy with your air bubble-less clay, and you’ve taken any bad feelings out on the stuff, you can get to making something. I don’t mind what, just relax, let your mind wander, and whatever flows, flows. Later you can pair up and talk about what you’ve made.” Or whatever else, because like anyone would stick on topic

“I’ll get it all fired by next week and you can keep it.” If it turned out respectably and people wanted their stuff. “Remember to put a hole in the bottom if it’s not a pot, or it could explode and that’s never pretty.” Never.

“Okay, collect some clay and a tub of tools and get kneading.”

Trick was not alone in the classroom today. There was a small, dapper little man standing with him, still slightly taller than Trick himself.

"Good morning, class," he said as the students filed in. "I would like to introduce you to my friend, Mumford." Mumford smiled at them, giving the students a bashful wave. "Mumford is a kind of Fae known as a Brownie. They are the Scottish and Northern English counterpart of the Scandinavian tomte, the Slavic domovoi and the German Heinzelmännchen. Brownies and their kin are incredibly helpful and friendly, excelling at cooking, cleaning, and chores, as well as an amazing ability to find bargains and deals on everything, including the latest in haute couture. Most wealthy Fae families employ several Brownies, as both domestic staff and personal shoppers."

Mumford smiled again and added, "We try to stay out of the way. Mostly, we work at night. So quiet, they never even know we're there."

Trick nodded. "Brownies adopt houses that they then look after. They have a very well-developed sense of responsibility and, traditionally, would come out at night to watch over farm animals, reap, thresh, sow, run errands, and generally make themselves indispensable. They willingly do the work left undone by the other servants--" Mumford snorted at that, a tiny little hmph! of disdain. "--though may plague them for their idleness if it seems to be deserved."

They also didn't handle extended idleness well, as Mumford wandered away to behind Trick's desk and began compulsively tidying it up. Trick just gave a good-natured sigh and continued his lecture. "Traditionally, Brownies ate bowls of cream or best milk, and cakes or porridge smeared with honey. These days, however, they've mostly updated and eat cereal." He pulled out a box of Honey Berry Crunch, causing Mumford to run back over, making grabby hands. "They have a long and fruitful relationship with humans, one of the few Fae races to do so, throughout history."

After getting his box of Honey Berry Crunch, Mumford practically skipped over to the door of the classroom and opened it. More Brownies streamed in, one for each member of the class. "Your first assignment for our class is to live with a Brownie for a full week. They will clean your dorms, cook your meals, and go shopping for you, either for basic necessities, or something more exotic, if you prefer."

"We have a gift for retail--and we never pay," Mumford boasted, making his way over to Kenzi. The others followed suit, choosing students to go home with.

"Next Thursday, they'll accompany you back to class and we'll discuss what you've learned," Trick finished. "They'll work very hard for you, so long as you don't take them for granted."

The classroom was set up with a number of soft, padded mats and pillows. Many of which smelled like play dough and apple juice, others of... less pleasant smells. Here's hoping that you grabbed one of the good pillows?

But not the one Juliet had claimed. She’d bite you if you tried to take it away. Anakin turned the lights down low. “Naptime,” he began, “because apparently it’s ‘wrong’ to shoot children with tranquilizers.”

"Yeah, who knew?" Deadpool added, ignoring the ginger child that was attempting to use his mask as a hand hold to climb... somewhere. It was possible she hadn't given that much more thought on the matter. "Jan, that's my face. I swear to god, I will sell you to the circus and take all that money to buy myself a sports car."

Jan, it seemed, did not buy that for a minute as she giggled evilly evilly, resuming her climb.

“Red one?” Juliet asked interestedly before whacking her father in the legs with her pillow. Anakin gave her a sour look. “So we’ll read a story and see if we can get these kids to sleep, then the room will generate some children of its own for you to read to.”

Children programmed by Anakin and Deadpool. Have fear, students.

Deadpool snagged the child turned monkey, holding her around the waist under his arm as he nodded. "Now, you might think it's easy to put a kid down for a nap, but you'd be wrong. So, so wrong. A kid who can't walk around is easier, mostly because babies are like cats in that they sleep, eat, poop. And then sleep some more. But then the kid gets to a point where they know what's best--"

Somewhere in there, someone was whining, "'m not tiiiiiired. I wanna play with Juliet." Whoever could it be?

"--but they're wrong because they want to pass out at any moment, so it's best to make it in an organized fashion. Preferably in a bed or on the couch instead of on top of the dog. Or in some finger paints."

“NOT TIRED, DADDY!” cried Juliet, who’d just pinged to the idea that the nap was for her, just before bolting for the door.

“Catch her!” Anakin called out.

"See, that's why I kept Jan's feet off the ground as soon as the word 'nap' hit the conversation," Deadpool said, holding a sulking limpet of a child up higher for people to see. Somehow this was going to be the least traumatizing thing about her growing up. What with the whole mutant messiah thing. "Use your Jedi powers!"

“But then they’ll never learn,” Anakin pointed out, reaching out and locking the door with the Force.

Deadpool shrugged. "I could always threaten to leave her with her grandpa and his skanky girlfriend." He was an awesome dad, thank you. "Or take away her toy swords."

"NO!"

"Yeah, you kids are gonna looooove fake parenthood today," Deadpool said with a smile that wasn't friendly at all.

"Welcome, welcome," Pinkie said, greeting the students by the door as they entered. "Quick, come in, it's freezing out there!"

No. No it really, really wasn't. But then, Pinkie was wearing what looked like a giant pudding cup on her head, so she really couldn't be considered an authority.

The Danger Shop had been set up to resemble the interior of a medieval town hall, this time, with wooden galleries lining the tall stone walls, filled with what looked like colorful medieval pony serfs arranged in three sections: unicorns, behind a banner displaying an elegant unicorn profile; pegasi, behind a banner of a dramatic white pegasus on a blue field; and earth ponies, behind a banner decorated in images of a peaceful farm field all set for the planting season. As the students gathered, Pinkie handed some of them unicorn horns attached to headbands, some of them pegasus wings on backpack straps, and some of them . . . nothing at all. A gaping, old-timey costume chest was overflowing with an odd assortment of regal cloaks, Roman centurian armor, and Elizabethan collars, and Pinkie encouraged all the students to raid it before she finally got things started.

"Welcome," she said again, "to the ( Great Pony Summit! )

Oh yes, it's already time for this. Summer moves quickly!

To apply, read the following information, click the link to the application form, fill it out for the character you want to play, and send it off!

( The basics you need to know. )

( What's needed to apply. )

( Early applications. )

( What happens once you've applied: )

( Notes for Current Players. )

( Notes for New Players. )

Application Form
You only need to fill out the parts that are relevant to the type of character you are applying for (ie: if you're a student applicant, don't fill in the stuff marked 'Townies Only').

If you don't get a confirmation email from us within 24 hours, please email us.

Here at Fandom High we have a soft character cap of 10 characters per fandom. (Characters who have graduated or otherwise moved away from the island are not counted towards this.) There are currently no fandoms at full capacity, so feel free to apply for characters from whatever fandom you choose. You can check on your prospective fandom's character count by checking out the character roster on fandomhigh.net (linked above).

Applications close Sunday, June 17, 2012 at 11:59pm Pacific. The next application session for students and teachers after this will be in July/August.

Got a question? We're here to answer it!

Today, the Danger Shop was set up to resemble the surf and beaches of Hawaii. It was one of Summer's favorite places to surf. The surf was fairly calm, with just a slight ripple of waves now and then.

"I decided to have the Danger Shop display one of my favorite places to surf - the coast of Hawaii. No matter what time of day, or year, you are sure to find good conditions to surf in. I thought we could get back in the water and get used to the boards. I'll show you some basic techniques to balance on the boards and you can practice that for as long or as little as you like. And, as always, if you have any questions, I'm here to answer them."

[OCD is a go.]

So there were several boxes of baked goods outside the Danger Shop today; you could chalk it up to Kennedy feeling generous, or maybe she'd had a really busy patrol last night. Or both could be true. Probably were.

Inside, the Danger Shop was set up like a park or a very large yard: a sizeable treehouse nestled among the branches of a sturdy-looking oak, fifty yards or so away from a fort made of sandbags and tarps. The fort was well stocked with Nerf weapons, buckets of ping-pong balls, and other moddable implements of harmless toy warfare, and anyone venturing into the treehouse would find the same. Each base (because that was obviously what they were) had a brightly-colored bandanna serving as a flag: the fort's green one was tied to a stick planted in the dirt behind the sandbag wall, and the treehouse's red one was visible through one window.

"Okay," Kennedy-- pacing back and forth along the top of one sandbag-fort wall-- said once the class had assembled. "Here's the thing about teamwork: there's all these motivational posters and things about it, but the fact is? You're not all gonna get along all the time. It happens. Stuff isn't going right, there's all this stress, maybe you haven't had any time to plan or get to know each other before you got thrown into the middle of everything. Odds are good you're gonna end up getting up in each other's faces a few times."

Her tone was light, but her expression bordered on the serious. "That? Not good. And I'm not gonna say you can prevent it, but you gotta be prepared for it. I wasn't, the first time, and things got really messy." Yeah, that was an understatement. "So here's a question for you. How's it gone down for you, if you've been in that kind of situation before, with the team friction? How do you think you'd handle it if you had to do it again? And if this is all just theory for you right now, how do you think you'd handle it?"

She waved a hand. "Not a discussion question. Just something to think about while you guys split up into teams and play Capture the Flag. Count off, one-two-one-two, and then you've got ten minutes to figure out who can do what to help your team out. Do not go out there and deliberately try to hurt each other, on the other team or yours, got it? Okay, get moving."

[[and ocd is up. go.]]

Class today was greeted by a slightly different looking Holmes sitting at the desk at the front of the classroom. He was clean shaven, hair trimmed into a style that didn't look as though he fell out of bed and into a wind tunnel, and--most importantly--dressed in modern attire.

"The most simple method of disguise involves slipping around the expectations of the person looking," Holmes said once everyone had arrived. "And before you ask, no, this was not meant to fool you. I am your teacher, I am expected to be at the front of the class after all. It is merely a demonstration of how easily your perception of a person can change with only the most minor of changes."

Like bathing. And not wallowing in his apartment because he was bored.

He stood up, pacing the front of the room impatiently. "The disguise that works best is the disguise that undergoes the least amount of scrutiny. A glance and you are dismissed as unimportant is the goal you must strive for. You discussed what defines you last week, now you must alter or hide those features with only clothing and what can be found on hand."

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk for a moment before realizing that perhaps he should point out the materials for the task. "In the back of the room you will find a variety of clothing; a wide variety of moddable styles and colors available for your use. You may only use that and what you have on your person at this moment to attempt your disguise. I suggest you start now."

"Oh, you're all still here."

Well, there might have been someone missing; it wasn't like Electroclash had memorized the entire class after the first session. Still, that was probably not the best way to greet them after most everyone had filed in and taken their places. They were in a regular classroom again, and Electroclash had the projector running, and there were several cameras on her desk. Along with her go-go boot clad feet, though she kicked those off the desk now and leaned her elbows against it instead.

"Right, we're starting this thing proper off easy," she drawled. "Publicity shots. Everyone needs them sooner or later. They're how you market yourself, especially if you're not managing to do any big heroic things. Sometimes it helps to just be fit and have a pretty face." Because even the superhero game was that shallow, yes. "And the goal is to look heroic, like you're worthy of some sort of praise. Here are a few examples. |Projector change slide.|"

Two photos of... a surly Electroclash appeared on the screen.

The one sitting behind the desk made a face and rolled her eyes. "The photographer was a prick, all right?" she said, by way of explanation. "But look at this one of my mate, Timebomb."

She made the picture on the screen change into one of a man some of them might've bumped into in the bar simulation in Electroclash's previous class, except he'd been in civilian clothes then.

"See, he looks all right, doesn't he? Fairly heroic and shit. And he's basically a psycho assassin, so here you see what a good publicity photo can do for you." Don... wouldn't have argued with that description too much, actually. "Now, some people – pretentious bumwipes, mostly – like to go the action route and hire up some minor villains to beat up in artistic lighting, but most people still prefer the clean studio look. So today, kiddies, you'll be pairing up and taking mock-up publicity shots of each other. Pay attention to your pose and your expression and try not to look like idiots." A pause. "You can also do it on your own, but trust me, the blurry one-armed look is not gonna get you on adverts anytime soon. Now, get your cameras and get to it."

[ocd up!]

Today's class was meeting in a classroom with a TV set at the front. "The television may have been one of the more remarkable things you found in your common room upon your arrival here," Steve said. Or they might have wondered why there weren't holograms. He didn't know. He explained briefly how TV actually worked, keeping his explanation as simplistic as possible, and then demonstrated how to use a remote control.

"Now, you may have heard the joke about two hundred channels--although the dorm TVs get far more than that--and nothing on, but I want to assure you that's not true, unless the TV is malfunctioning and stuck on the Yuletide log again. Our TVs get broadcasts from all over the multiverse, for one thing, so there's usually something that might strike your fancy, and even on standard cable television, there is, twenty-four hours a day, programming ranging from sports to dramas to documentaries. There are whole channels dedicated to game shows, music, and even one just for old Westerns. While I don't encourage spending all your time in front of the television--it's important to stay active--it is available, and can be very entertaining." Steve was a fan of meta for Grey's Anatomy, himself.

"Now, I'd like for everyone to share with the class one thing they've learned about TV--besides what I just told you--since coming to Fandom, and then you can spend the rest of the class period experimenting with the remote." Anyone who 'accidentally' accessed porn would be in trouble.

Given the weather, Bond had had his class meet him in the Danger Shop, which was set up as a clearing in the preserve, with the weather mimicking the rain outside, you just weren't in any danger of having wet clothes after class. Bond was considerate like that.

"Good afternoon, class," he began, letting his voice carry over the sound of the wind and rain. "Today you'll be trying your hand at wilderness shelters, the most common of which is the debris hut."

Bond led them through the steps of constructing a hut, as well as some of the potential pitfalls. Once he was finished, he gestured around the clearing.

"Now it's your turn, and let me remind you of the value of teamwork in survival situations."

[ooc: wait for ocd up]

[Class Roster|Class Rules]

This was, quite possibly even more entertaining than Dojima ever thought teaching was going to be.

"Ohaiyo!" she sang as the students arrived. "Today we're going to give you some practical exercises in how dating - or wooing - can go very very wrong, Fandom-style."

Romeo shot her a swift, amused smile. "For example," he said, "the gremlins. I've heard tell of brilliant nights, burned to ashes because something with fangs decided to make a plaything of half of a pair -- or of both halves."

"Fandom Lesson Number One," Dojima put in impishly. "Video of the aftermath of a gremlin encounter is worth a LOT on the open market."

"However, taking video of your would-be-beloved in such a state is a good way to guarantee there will be no second date."

"Though after a fourth or fifth date, perhaps, a little blackmail may be overlooked in a loving relationship," Romeo put on. "But to go to the larger point -- the amount of time people here spend out of their mind or not in the right body can strain any relationship."

"Even if that relationship is just one of friendship - But! - friendship is not what you're in this class for. So! We've come up with a few scenarios for you to work with," she supplied cheerfully. "First dates gone so, so, so very wrong. Because around here? It's bound to happen."

"First you cry, then you laugh, then you move on," Romeo said solemnly. "And today … today is for practice. Your pairs are Lucrezia and Frank; Rapunzel and Sholeh; Thomasina and Atton; and George and Shira. And, as we've an odd number, Stacey, Hanna and Sparkle will all work together."

Welcome, class. Your teacher had a hangover because Jake was awesome.

So please ignore the sunglasses indoors.

"So it's going to be quick today. Hopefully you all figured out how to work your cameras. If not... wow, you had a week," she said. "I'm going to give you an assignment. Nay, a prompt. And then next week you come back and show off your pictures. And the prompt is... animal transformations.

"Which only sounds hard," she said. "Take a picture of a flamingo and say it's your roommate Bob. I'm perfectly okay with lies. Now that you have that... I don't know. Go, stay and attack the cat with your cameras, do what you need to do."

And just before she went back to her desk, she said, "Oh, and I don't think I said it last week, but if anyone gets photographic evidence of a gremlin bite, you get extra credit for life." No, you didn't.

"Congratulations on making the right decision and coming back to class," Callie said. Demons were to big egos as cats were to ... big egos. "Not that today's class is particularly interesting, but we actually have a topic, and more importantly, you get to spend more time around me. That's more educational than any of this PowerPoint crap I mocked up."

Callie was a fabulous teacher. Would an un-fabulous teacher have made PowerPoint slides? Really, now.

( Zombies: Eat Fresh! )

Today, Jeff wasn't just in the classroom - he was actually making use of the blackboard as if he were a proper teacher and everything. Be proud, students! Be proud!

He had written three letters on the board. Three big, important letters. N.A.T.

As soon as everyone had entered, he took out a laser pointer and pointed the little dot at the letters in turn. "Nose... avoidance... tilting," he said, drawing out every word like it was the most important thing in the world. "It's the gateway to intimate squelching! This is where every relationship starts. If you've made it through the hello bit, this is the next big hurdle!"

Yes. Indeed.

"It's that moment where you catch someone, or run into them, or stand really close, and they sort of tilt their head a bit, and you tilt your head a bit. It could turn into a kiss, but it isn't a kiss! Yet!"

This was important!

"Though if N.A.T. does immediately lead to a kiss, this isn't a terrible thing," Jeff was quick to assure them. "Your mother isn't actually monitoring everything you do, waiting to attack you with a miniature guillotine if you kiss a woman." Beat. "Or a man. So it's safe! It's completely safe."

Thank you, Jeff. No one had been worried about but you.

"Now, N.A.T. is not an exact science," he continued. "How can you be sure if there's N.A.T.? Maybe she's just trying to see if you've got hair coming out of your nose. Maybe you've actually just acquired a really large freckle. Maybe you've got mustard stuck on your lip and she's actually really disturbed by it."

He gestured towards a stack of hand puppets. "Since making you all practice on each other is illegal and everything," he said, "I brought puppets! So you can all pick a partner and, er, have a conversation, and then if the moment feels right, the puppets can do N.A.T. Or examine each other's moles, if the conversation went badly."

He beamed at the class. "It's all about practice!" he said. "N.A.T. is no laughing matter."

Uh-huh, Jeff.

Ronan was looking a little haggard at the front of the class today, but he put on a smile and said, "Good morning, class. I hope you all had a more restful weekend than I did. A word of advice: never play t'krei with a Demisiv."

Because you'd all know what that meant, clearly.

"Today's lecture is about the flipside of last week's: when do you make the decision to sacrifice yourself for others? From what I heard last week, I feel like for some of you the answer is 'always.' That it's your first choice. I have to admit, it's often the first choice for me, too, as one of my world's wizard.

"But that doesn't mean it should be: that it should be everyone's first choice, or that it should be the first choice in every situation. And even if you've come to put others before you, it might not always have been as easy as you might find it now."

It should never be easy, Ronan though, but he had too few illusions about Fandom's students to wonder how many of them would throw themselves headlong into danger if it meant the merest chance to save someone else.

"One of the first major encounters I had, after becoming a wizard, was a reconstruction of the Battle of Moytura. For those of you not familiar with Irish mythology, the Battle of Moytura was fought against the Fomori, twisted creatures under the command of the giant Balor. Balor had one tiny eye and one large, the first shrunk down to make room for the second, which when opened would blast the land and all upon it."

Ronan hopped down off his desk and started scratching out a few notes on the blackboard. "Balor, in my world, is an incarnation of the Lone Power -- basically, the source of death in the universe. All the Irish wizards rose up against him, as well as a few American wizards who'd come across for a visit. We had weapons on our side, the four treasures: Fragarach, the sword, to cut between worlds; the cauldron, to revive our wounded; the Lia Fail, the stone of destiny, to hold the ground together; and, in my hand, the spear of Lugh, ready to be thrown and strike down Balor.

"But it was quiet in my hand. Throwing the spear meant accepting something within myself that I was afraid to: the One's Champion had chosen me as an avatar, but to make use of the spear and save Ireland I had to give myself over to it, which risked destroying everything that was me. It was something I'd agreed to do, when I took up the mantle of wizard, but no choice is final. I could have turned it down, stepped back, and let someone else step up to take over. It wouldn't have been as effective, and it might not have worked at all, but someone would have. The question was, could I live with myself afterwards if I made that choice?

"In the end, I chose the Champion, and the spear, and struck Balor down, though not before others had died in the battle. I don't know that I could have saved them even had I chosen earlier, but that's something that will stay with me for rest of my life: could I have?

"But that's my choice," Ronan finished. "I decided to risk everything I am because it was the best, though not the only, way to end the battle and win. What would you do, though? Have you been faced with a decision like that before? If not, how do you think you might choose, and why?"

[Wait for OCD is up!]

William hadn't any idea that yesterday had been Mother's Day... until he listened to the morning's radio broadcast.

As a result, he was feeling a bit melancholy as he opened the library today, as he thought about his own mother and what he'd possibly say to her were she still alive.

"You... might think that the Cold War was nothing... but the United States and... Soviet Union making a point to NOT blow each other away with nuclear... weapons even though they wanted each other to know that they could," Yakko said in a Very Serious Voice. Okay, it wasn't serious. It was a Shatner impression. That might make sense in a minute. "Or you may not have any idea what I'm talking about because you're way too young."

"But today, I want you to forget everything you either know or don't know because we're going to talk about the fun part of the Cold War before bringing it back to being really depressing!" He sounded somewhat enthusiastic about that. "I'm talking about THE SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE!"

( Be warned, there's frank discussions of historical space puppy death inside. )

Raven knew it was the Earth holiday of Mother's Day, but since her own mother had disappeared and wanted nothing more to do with her, she was doing her best not to think of it. So to distract herself, she was busily consulting a list of best-selling novels she'd gotten off the internet and was making certain the library had copies available of the books it contained. For the moment she was focusing on the young adult section and decidedly ignoring the not-so-young adult best-sellers. 50 Shades of what?

It was a nice, normal day -- well, in Fandom, at least -- which meant that there was a pretty cheerful Cassidy showing up to do her job.

She quickly got lost in the work of things.

"If you think you're going to hear about the modern criminal justice system, you're in the wrong classroom."

So Tyrion Lannister began his third session as a classroom teacher, striding in a minute or two late and hoisting himself onto the teacher's desk in the classroom for greater amplification. Once he was there:

"Hello," he said. "Welcome to class. I hope it might someday help keep some of you alive. The game of thrones, as it's called, is a dangerous game. I'm no expert on other systems of government, but from what I've read over the last several months I see little reason to believe politicians are much kinder than monarchs. I exaggerate only slightly -- there seems to be less chopping off of heads in this world then there is at home, and I suppose allowances should be made for that."

"I am teaching this class as Lord Tyrion of House Lannister. My father was the king's chief advisor until the king went mad and a war came." If Daenerys was still on the island, Tyrion would have been less blunt about this, but she'd gone home and he saw no reason to soft-peddle it for anyone else; as it was, he was talking around several points for the sake of expediency. "The king changed then, but my father's still a rather powerful man. The fact we're all still alive and my sweet sister is queen is a tribute to how well he played the game."

"I'm not much like my father." This was not entirely true. "But no one's asked for my head on a platter yet, so I must be doing something right."

"My title is mostly for my world. Here, call me Tyrion or Professor Lannister, whichever comes more easily to your tongue. I am generally in my office on Thursdays. If you find me overly forbidding, my assistants are the Lady Blysse Norwood and her companion Blind Seer, as well as Surreal SaDiablo. The large wolf may be the least intimidating among them."

He paused there, ran a hand back over his hair. "Like everyone else, I'm forcing you to introduce yourselves this week. Name, title if you have one and want to share it, and the form of government you're most familiar with. I'd like to know where we're starting from. Oh, and if you've a topic you'd hoped to address over the next two months, please let me know."

An envelope with each of the student's names waited for them at the entrance to the Danger Shop. Inside they would have found themselves on the outskirts of what looked suspiciously like a frontier township, where Oz waited for them by the side of what looked even more suspiciously like a covered wagon, carrying a large nerf gun.

( This will surely end well. )

[Post away]

Friday morning, there was coffee and cookies supplied. Don’t get too used to that, kids. The enthusiasm would probably wear off just a little as the term went on. The desks were arranged in a circle and on each one students would find an A5 sketchpad.

Angela would be found sitting on one of the desks, facing them all. "So welcome to Art Therapy." She was maybe the tiniest bit excited about this, yes. "I’m Angela Montenegro, Fandom class of 2010. Just call me Angela. I’ll be Ms. Montenegro when I get old." Aka. not yet. "Hopefully you’re all here by choice, if not... I’m sorry, but I’ll try and keep it bearable. I’ve always found my art to be one of the greatest outlets. For stress, for happiness, for anger, and just for expressing yourself and your own individuality. The best art is all about emotion, but you’ve got to know how to tap it. So we are going to be looking at that and also learning how art can help you. Because it can, I promise."

"The sketchbooks are yours for art journaling. Decorate them, draw in them, whatever takes you. If decide to destroy yours... Safety first." Art therapy, guys. She wouldn’t judge. "If you do one of the former, I would love to see it." There was no need to bring back the remains if you went for the latter. Really.

"If you ever have any questions, or problems, or whatever else, come find me or you can talk to my fabulous TA Angelica here."

Okay. That out the way. "It’s Friday of the first week, you all know where this is going by now. I want to know a little about you guys." And she was going to start with you, random student.

[[ ocd a’coming done done done. ]]