#your couple is garbage

[gj340]

ashyuli > ny*m*m*

don’t you dare change my mind.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

My favorite thing about Jemrauth, last king of Arateph, is that he is so devoted to his wife and the concept of marital fidelity that it reshapes the politics of an entire planet. Unfortunately, he keeps falling out of any stories I try to tell in this setting, and even if I do manage to get him to show up, there's no way I'll be able to fit in any of this backstory. Which is an excellent reason to talk about it here.

Jemrauth's grandfather, King Evris, had no interest in ruling a planet and preferred to focus on his interest in landscaping, botany, zoology, etc. Which meant that by the end of his reign, the royal palaces had amazing gardens, but the planetary government was in shambles (because the ruling Houses had been able to run rampant without oversight).

Jemrauth's father, Hilath, (who basically started running the planet as soon as he was old enough to hold adult conversations), thus decided to value his duty to Arateph over any personal preferences. This included marrying a politically ideal woman that he didn't care two straws for.

Hilath thought the pursuit of virtue was irrelevant to ruling Arateph, and this philosophy spilled over into his private life. Once the succession was secure, he saw no reason to remain faithful to his wife, and openly filled his needs for companionship with an array of mistresses he housed in the palace.

Unfortunately, Jemrauth's mother did care for Hilath, and her husband's behavior broke her heart. (Especially since he'd string her along just enough to make her think he still cared for her and maybe they could fix things.)

(Also, it wasn't like she could have her own set of lovers, because while the king can do what he wants, cheating on the ruler of the entire known universe comes with extreme political, social and sometimes legal consequences).

After she gave her husband his heir and spare (Jemrauth's older brother and sister), Jemrauth's mother decided that this third child (conceived unexpectedly during one of those stringing-along periods) was hers. She took an active role in raising Jemrauth and was very close to him. Jemrauth was thus very aware of how much his father's behavior hurt his mother, and learned to view infidelity as one of the most heinous sins.

Jemrauth became his father's unfavorite--how could Hilath respect someone raised by his wife, who always took her side? It wasn't like Jemrauth was necessary anyway.

Except, um, surprise! Hilath lost his heir and spare to a plague in Jemrauth's late teenage years, which left Jemrauth as the only heir, despite not being raised for the role.

When it came to choosing a wife, Jemrauth knew he needed to marry a woman who he loved and respected and who he would always remain faithful to.

Not long after meeting Marastel, Jemrauth knew that she was the perfect complement to his personality and would make an ideal wife and queen, and he fell head-over-heels.

Hilath was outraged when he found out. Jemrauth had chosen possibly the most unsuitable woman on the entire planet. She was part of House Kepha, which was historically distrusted by the crown and the other houses because of a history of rebellion--and worse, she was on the lowest rungs of it. If he'd fallen in love with a commoner, it would have been better than this, because then at least she wouldn't come with the political baggage. As it was, her low-but-not-low enough rank was just enough to enrage people from every House, and Hilath forbid the relationship.

Jemrauth believed that the relationship had gone too far for him to honorably release Marastel--and besides, he didn't want to. He couldn't marry Marastel, but he refused to marry anyone else. This went on for years, with Jemrauth and Marastel remaining faithful to each other.

Finally, Jemrauth reached the age of ascension and took the throne. His father wasn't worried about the marriage question; an elder king still held a lot of political power, so even as king Jemrauth couldn't marry without his father's consent.

Except, tradition held that the king takes a virtue name upon coronation to define the virtue he holds most important to his reign. Jemrauth took a name that meant loyalty. Caring about people more than the power of the throne--openly declaring he was going to be the opposite of his father. Even worse, the name also had a layer of meaning that stated Jemrauth would remain loyal to Marastel specifically.

At the time of Jemrauth's coronation, renewed societal interest in virtue had Hilath under political scrutiny for his lack of it. He couldn't keep his son from living up to his virtue name. Hilath was enraged, but had no choice but to relent.

Hilath died a short time after Jemrauth took the throne, so Jemrauth was able to rule without his father's interference (or his help, which actually would have been valuable).

As king, Jemrauth wasn't great at keeping his personal feelings separate from his need to cooperate with someone politically. If he found out that someone was unfaithful to their spouse, he immediately classed them as "absolute scum unworthy of respect" and would not work well with them.

The nobility quickly learned that if you want to get anywhere with the king, you either have to be faithful to your spouse or (more often) work really hard to keep the king from hearing about your philandering. This caused upheavals in the Great Houses as lords cast aside or tried to hide mistresses and illegitimate children.

When Marastel was struggling with miscarriage after miscarriage and Jemrauth refused to divorce her, some of the lords tried to set up Othello situations--since the king found infidelity horrendous, they tried to convince him that Marastel was unfaithful so he'd cast her off and marry someone more suitable. They didn't count on the fact that these two loved and trusted and communicated with each other, so none of the manufactured evidence had any ring of truth to it.

The nobility (and some later historians) tried to convince themselves that Jemrauth wasn't really faithful to that wife of his--he was just trapped by his virtue name. They tried to read a lot into Jemrauth's interactions with other women--sometimes the king attended social events while his wife was at home recovering from miscarriages/related depression--but though Jemrauth may have been a bit too sociable (especially when trying to distract himself from his own depression after the deaths of his children), he was never unfaithful and always madly in love with his wife. 1000% chose the right queen. Zero regrets.

This is my way-too-long no-one-read-all-of-this way of saying that I love that this guy's most enduring trait is how much he loves his wife and is dedicated to the concept of true--as in, faithful--love. And I think about it all the time.

[sawvidae]

i have a problem with merge dragons

[skinnypaleangryperson]

What's been making me chuckle lately is watching the few TV show creators that I've followed over the past couple of years literally scrawling and sobbing metaphorically and literally and being sentimental and sniveling and begging for their TV shows to be renewed, and talking about the very few meager years that their TV shows were on air like it's the "good old college days of their prime" (a literal quote in an article that I read tonight), and even when it was on the air were very delicately and carefully crafting every little last minute finite detail of every single season and making sure that it was perfectly culturally relevant and would be received well by its consumers like it was a literal scientific formula, and sweating over every last possible critique or rant that could come out with literally every single line or episode essentially.

..meanwhile, the creators of South Park have dropped and even outright said that they want it to get canceled, wouldn't care if it did get canceled, and dedicated an entire season begging for it to be canceled, and it's still not canceled because some people are truly too talented for their own good.

[marmolita]

so much of the time I come on tumblr and see absolute garbage political opinions, but the saving grace is that I only see them as the OP in a reblog chain of fact checking and takedowns 😅

[xwhitenoise]

got to spend a majority of my workday putting together evidence to present to a client showing how badly one of their employees fucked up/how thoroughly substantiated the allegations against the employee for discriminatory conduct are

fingers crossed that this ableist bitch gets fired ❤️💞💖

[neverendingford]

.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

WHAT DA HECKKKK MAC!!! UR A BIRTHDAY GUY!!!! HOLY SHIT. OLD!!! time 2 put u in a retirement home!!!! IT'S UR DAY OF BIRTH I AM THROWING U A PARTY RN 🎉🥳🎉 TIME 2 HIT THE PINATA 🪄 🪅 CANDY!! 🍭 🍬 🍫 TIME 4 PRESENTS 🎁🎁🎁 CAKE TIME 🧁 BIRTHDAY BOY GETS A CROWN 👑 BLOW OUT THE CANDLES 🧨🧨🧨 <<couldn't find any candles so i got these weird red sticks instead!! i think they're sparklers!! :3

oh fuck i love sparklers-!

[mariaalenkoshepard]

Man this year's met gala sucks

[jimgandolfini]

ive been a firm frogan truther since day one (but as a psychosexual/power/non-physical dynamic) and ive been a huge krank (but as the hot girl and his hilarious bff) supporter since day one and now the rise of Krank nation has been very silly and an absolute pleasure

but in the last few days ive seen 1. the sauna scene which is simply the most homosexual moment i have ever seen on stage or screen in my entire life and it’s driving me absolutely feral

2. a post about ���frendall” wherein kendalls gay or bi (sure) and frank was his first unrequited crush..which has driven me absolutely insane since laying eyes on it

I have not gone this absolutely bonkers since “only I’m allowed to be nasty to Frank, no one else can be nasty to Frank”

[ohheckstuff]

Hey reminder that if you use chatgbt I am automatically better than you

Does policing others as a way to make yourself look better work out in the long run as an approach to any kind of activism?

No absolutely not

Buuuuuuuuuuut

Literally suck my nuts 🤭

Lil piss baby mad that they can't actually create without scrapping together the hard work of other creatives? Here message me about how tough it is to be so weak that the idea of cultivating a skill makes you run blindly towards the-

*checks notes*

"evil water stealing, environment destroying, data scalping" machine

Ohhhhhhh wait u can't without your chattybox typing it up for u :)

A shame

OH I'M NOT DONE

Also as a black person seeing your fucking chatbot use aave is literally so gross

Keep my people's dialect outta ya fucking code

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Disney princess Danny

It’s known that animals can sense death. Instances where pets gravitate to someone on their death bed and dogs barking at ghosts. Danny already knew this from before he half died, so he was expecting animals to rat him out with their sixth sense or become aggressive or cower from him. Instead, they all behaved the complete opposite than he anticipated.

Stray cats come running to rub against his legs, dogs nearly pull arms out of their owners sockets to get close to him, birds bring him trinkets, raccoons lead him to trash cans full of food, and even squirrels and rats get close to just sit on his shoulders. It’s… weird, but not unwelcome. He always loved animals.

Danny had come to semi-trust the animals that come to him. They know where the good food is and drinking water, they know when to steer away from a certain area right before something happens, and they always know when a person is bad or okay. So when an animal leads him somewhere, he follows. Sometimes they need help and he’s the one they go to. He’s helped plenty of raccoons out of garbage bins and cats out of gutters to have a good relationship with the animals of the streets.

What he isn’t expecting is to be led to Robin again and again.

The first time it was a cat. A mangy old Tom cat that rubbed against his torn up jeans and looked back with - Danny swears- a raised eyebrow. Danny follows and soon enough he finds himself standing a few paces away from Robin who is kneeling down to give clean water to the momma cat and her three kittens.

Robin freezes and so does Danny. They stare at each other.

“Um, hi?”

Robin straightens immediately, leaving the water on the ground where the cats can drink. Tom cat swaggers over to guard them.

“Civilian. Is there something I can assist you with?”

The dude is probably a year or two younger than Danny himself and he has to suppress a smile at the formal tone.

“Oh, uh, no? The cat just led me here.”

He can see Robin glance at the Tom cat who was now licking himself.

“Is that so?”

“Yea. Sorry to interrupt. Animals just like me for some reason.”

The three kittens one by one all totter over to him on unsteady legs after they had their fill. The orange one starts trying to climb his pant leg with its short and sharp claws digging into the jean material.

“They really like me.”

He carefully sits down crossed legged so the others could also climb all over him. Robin watches for a moment silently and when he sees Danny react well to the little pricks from tiny claws, he seems it safe enough to return to patrol.

The second time it’s a couple of rats that lure him away to find Robin fighting off more thugs than he probably should by himself. So taking the rats’ movements as encouragement, he takes the closest thing, a piece of plywood, and hit the nearest guy over the head with it. The guy crumbles like a wet sock and Danny is moving on to the next thug.

They sweep the floor with these guys with only a few splinters and a twisted ankle.

“It was dangerous to intervene,” Robin tells him. “I had it handled.”

“Yea, I know.”

The vigilante didn’t seem to be expecting that response from his stunned silence. He straightens as much as he can with bruised ribs.

“Well, I’m glad you know your mistake. Don’t let it happen again.”

Danny neither agrees nor disagrees, just shrugs and allow the rats to climb up his leg to his shoulder. Robin looks at them curiously. Danny gives a salute before leaving. Robin gives him a nod.

The third time it happened the roles are reversed.

Some people from the local gang are bullying the lonely, homeless teen to run drugs for them. They don’t seem to understand the word ‘no’. It gets to the point where Danny finds himself with his back against the wall and all his exits blocked with a guy shoving him again and again.

“Stop it!”

“I’ll stop if you agree.”

“I’m not doing it!”

Frank the raccoon and his buddy Bobby launch themselves at the guy’s ankles. The guy shrieks and pulls a gun.

“No!”

Before Danny can dive for it, a projectile comes out of nowhere to knock it out of his hands. He can’t even process what happened before the three are running away, two raccoons chattering at their heels before coming back to crowd him in worry.

Danny looks up to see Robin with a sword out threateningly, staring at where the three fled. He sheaths the sword after a few seconds.

“Are you okay?”

Danny realizes he’s breathing a little heavy and slows down a bit as he leans over to pet the top of the two heads.

“I’m- yea, I’m okay. Thanks for the save. Those guys were jerks.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Robin is staring at the raccoons and it takes Danny a long moment to piece things together.

“Did- did they lead you to me?”

Robin doesn’t answer right away.

“You have loyal friends.”

Danny smiles at the weird compliment. Looking down at the two heroes of the evening Danny is also inclined to agree.

The fourth time is funny in a way Danny doesn’t know how to describe.

It was the pigeons. They were at fault of course for how Robin’s secret identity was outed. By pigeons.

The grey birds swarmed Danny and settled in a cloud of feathers. One holding something in its beak before plopping it down in his lap like a golden retriever. It flaps off as Danny picks up the obvious wallet clip holding quite a bit of cash and a student ID. The card says Damian Wayne from Gotham Academy. Just then Robin comes skidding around the corner, clearly out of breath and freezes.

Danny looks down at the clip in his hand and back up at the vigilante. He looks at the crazy amount of birds around him and again at the vigilante.

Said vigilante straightens and approaches like he called Danny there.

“If I could have that so I could return it to its proper owner.”

He holds out a hand with false arrogance, but Danny can see the nervousness in his stance. Danny looks down one last time before putting the clip in the outstretched hand without a word.

Robin nods once, pockets the ID and money, and immediately leaves.

The fifth time just cements what Danny had already figured out.

He was at the park. Not Ivy’s park of course, the one where people actually like to go. He was helping the squirrels find and hide acorns when he’s nearly knocked over by a massive black dog.

“Titus!”

The end of the Great Dane’s leash is a familiar face. Damian Wayne’s eyes widen in recognition as he finally sees who Titus was so excited to get to.

“Uh-“

Danny has to close his mouth quickly or else the massive tongue on his face would have turned into a French kiss.

“Titus! Heel!”

Danny laughs at the embarrassed blush on the other’s face, obviously not used to his companion going off the rails like this.

“It’s alright. We both know how animals like me.”

Damian narrows his eyes to analyze the teen. Danny wasn’t about to pretend and Damian looked like he was debating whether to follow his lead or not. There was literally no one within hearing distance.

“Have you told anyone?”

Danny thought about redirecting, but thought better of it. He actually liked Robin and what he did.

“Nope. I haven’t and I won’t. I swear.”

Damian tilts his head and then looks down at Titus. He seems to come to a decision before looking back at Danny.

“You’re homeless, are you not?”

Didn’t think they were being that direct but sure.

“Yea?”

“I will pay you in food and shelter to take care of my animals.”

Danny blinks. Then actually considers the offer.

“What kind of animals? How many we talking?”

Damian grins.

The family finds out pretty quickly when a teen they’ve never seen before walks into the Batcave with two pails of food for the bats, Titus at his heels and Alfred the cat perched contently on his shoulders.

Duke stares and Bruce short circuits.

“Um, who are you?”

“Hi! I’m Danny. Damian employed me to take care of the animals.”

“O…kay?”

“And where is Damian?” Bruce sounds like it physically hurts to ask and Danny does not envy Damian’s position right now.

“Upstairs. I think he said he was going to his art studio.”

Bruce marches past the boy to the stairs before stopping abruptly and turning to Danny and Duke.

“Don’t touch anything. Watch him.”

Duke and Danny blink at each other for a moment as Bruce disappears up the stairs.

“I’m Duke by the way.”

Danny grins.

[horse-shit]

yknow sometimes it's kinda funny to say what the 'bare bones' of my maternal issues are

"oh did she hit you and punish you severely?" "no, she cared too much"

[jonnywaistcoat]

hey jonny, i just thought you'd want to know that character.ai has an ai-generated imitation of your voice and i'm not sure what other websites might have it or where it originated :(

Yeah, it's a fucking garbage state of affairs but, as a somewhat well-known performer with a pretty distinctive voice it doesn't exactly shock me. Needless to say I think anyone who used this is a mediocre waste of skin and if they ever tell me in person they've used it then 50/50 I punch them in the teeth.

I can't wait for a couple of years when it all collapses just like every other niche-but-interesting-technology-with-limited-use-cases-sold-as-a-universal-panacea-to-gormless-CEOs grift (blockchain being the best example). Because the thing is, none of these things actually make any money and cost a vast amount, so as soon as all the dumb venture capital funding dries up and AI is required to actually start paying for itself, the bubble bursts and the whole industry is fucked.

That said, it's gonna be rough when it happens - a lot of companies have invested very heavily in AI and they're going to be hurting badly. I know of more than one media company whose idiot executives invested ridiculous amounts into NFTs and ended up laying off massive swathes of workers when that obvious fucking scam collapsed. I suspect the AI crash is gonna be even worse than that. And by then it will have drowned the Internet in slop. We'll see, I guess.

Anyway, anyone who uses AI is a soulless fucking husk of a person who cannot tell half-digested vomit from culture, and I would pity them if they weren't making the world such a measurably worse place to exist.

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

in-school-suspension was honestly so extremely funny because i had undiagnosed Problems Disorder and unironically i LOVED being sent to ISS.

average day of ISS (sent there for 3 days because i was late to a class three times within a 9-week period):

arrive at school and say a silly dramatic farewell to my besties

stop at each of my classrooms to receive makeup work from my teachers which always ends up being some bullshit worksheet or textbook busywork

arrive at ISS portable and go through the daily rigamarole intro of "you are Bad and you should Feel Bad. welcome to Bad Class, a confirmation that you will never make anything of your life, you horrid creature. you are not allowed to speak, eat, or feel joy. no doodling or reading, if you don't have makeup work or homework i will assign busywork to you. fuck you. *spits*"

spend the next 4 hours doing my busywork. it is QUIET. i can CONCENTRATE. the work gets DONE EARLY.

the work only took 2 hours maximum, i spend the other 2 hours writing fanfiction manually in a composition book pretending that I'm doing textbook work. i am having the time of my life.

our lunch time is the 10 minutes between the two lunch periods. there is no line, because there's only ever 5-15 ISS students. i get to EAT instead of STANDING IN A LINE for half an hour and only having 4 minutes to scarf down my garbage.

at the end of lunch, we are led in a big duck line through the school and we each get to stop off at our usual classes and pick up work to do. i already did this in the morning, so i use my time to say hi to my friends and figure out what the homework will be tonight.

for the last 2 hours of the day i do my homework. IT GETS DONE. this is the ONLY time during high school where homework gets done. zero exaggeration. i never did homework unless i was actively in a classroom with no choice but to do homework.

we get the usual outro of "this has been your day in Bad Class, because you're a Bad Child. some of you will be here tomorrow, some of you will not, but i'll see you again in a couple of weeks, because you are Bad and will always be Bad."

the school day is over, i did not encounter any of my bullies, i did not have to 'participate in class'. i got all of my work done and then some. i got to work on my fanfics. i hang out with my friends after school and talk to others on myspace/facebook.

it is the best three days i have in recent memory.

i will be there again, probably on purpose.