gooseberryhigh | SCHOOL TRIP: Juniors

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SCHOOL TRIP: Juniors

SCHOOL TRIP: Juniors

As the junior class steps out off the Floo network, they're immediately hit by the humidity, in stark contrast with dry Utah. The excitement amongst the students (even if it's not totally unanimous) is palpable. They file onto buses, and soon they're on their way to the most magical place on earth. Everyone breaks out in high pitched teenage elation as the bus passes under the gate the proclaims this is the place where dreams come true. The Disney bus driver quips and jokes with the boisterous highschoolers.

Students are given packets that contain their hotel room key, park passes, allowance, a description of their dining plan and tickets, the itinerary, and a basic list of rules. For the most part, it looks like they'll have a lot of freedom, so long as they don't break any rules. "This is going to be great," Mr. Elmasty proclaims, who seems happy to be a kid more than a teacher this weekend.

HOW THIS WORKS

The junior class is visiting Orlando, Florida! They'll be staying in the Pop Century Resort.

They're in a block of rooms on the third floor of a set of buildings themed for 80's and 80's pop culture. The nearest swimming pool is themed like a 90's laptop.

Staff presence: Ms. Rhee, Mr. Elmasry, Ms. Whittle

Students will have to go through the North American Floo network, so they can't have any contraband in their bags, such as weapons or drugs. After arriving at the MACUSA Floo hub in Orlando, they'll be taken to their hotel on Disney property.

For the two non-travel days, in the morning there will be a set school activity that's mandatory, and in the evenings students can do whatever they want to.
- Friday: Our Body, The Universe Within / Orlando Science Center. Students leave at 9:00 AM, and return to the hotel at 3:00 PM
- Saturday: Disney World. Just... go. The staff knows that's the only reason you're here.
Juniors are given an allowance of $15 per day for food and leisure, as well as a Disney Dining Plan and a 3 day Parkhopper ticket to Disney World. Using the dining plan, students may spend "credits" on meals, allowing even those with minimal funds to go to expensive restaurants in Disney World if they strategize. Nice! Any room charges will come out of your character's allowance. They may spend their own personal money however they please.

Curfew is 12:00 AM. Teachers will come through to make sure everyone is in their rooms. The only exception is for the students who are staying out later for "Extra Magic Hours" on Friday and Saturday night at the Magic Kingdom. Mr. Elmasry will stay out until 1:00 AM with students opting to do this, and he'll return to the hotel with them.

Students are not allowed to take their wands into the Disney parks due to the International Statute of Secrecy. The staff give everyone a lecture reminding them about keeping their magic use under wraps.

The park will be busy because it's Thanksgiving Weekend, and it will be decorated for Christmas already. The weather will be fairly mild for Florida, but still expect heat and humidity.

ALTHOUGH THIS IS BEING POSTED ON 11/22, STUDENTS WILL NOT ACTUALLY BE LEAVING UNTIL THE MORNING OF 11/23!

Room 7359: Hazel / Susana / Cole

Room 7360: Austin / Samantha / Solomon / Regan

Room 7361: Bianca / Joanna / Milo / Isabelle

Room 7362: Gabriela / Evangeline / Charlotte

Room 7363: Madison / Ruby

Room 7364: Heathcliff / Spencer / Noel

Room 7365: Estella / Ira

Room 7366: Jefferson / Tristan / Zachary

Room 7367: Ariadne / Sebastien / Jade / Lucas

Room 7368: Calvin / Micah

Room 7369: Cassius / Todd

» DEPARTURE: Any scenes relating to leaving campus or arriving in Orlando can go here!

» THE HOTEL: Any scenes that take place at the hotel can go here!

» DAY TWO: EDUTAINMENT: Please just tolerate this one day of pretending the trip has educational value.

» DAY THREE: DISNEY WORLD: Your schedules are freed for an entire day in the Most Magical Place on Earth. You know, as far as muggles are concerned.

» GOING HOME: Time to pack up and return to Utah.

» OOC - Questions, comments, concerns!

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Gooseberry is as close to off the grid as Lucas is able to tolerate. Normally, his preoccupation is with the lack of wifi, but as Disney drew closer and, with it, the promise of a certain degree of freedom, other things sprang up as significant. Like, it's really hard to go on a proper date with your boyfriend when the only place to go is the cafeteria and you're in constant, close quarters with 158 other people your age?

And, okay, so, that naturally led to the realization that he and Bash have never been on a proper Date. Which detoured into an existential crisis about the nature of relationships. And how bad he is at this. And who lets sixteen-year-olds do anything, anyway. And oh my god they're going to share a bed together - oy vey ist mir, what was he thinking. But that was like five days ago, man, and Lucas is cool now. Sorta. Kinda. (Fake it til you make it, Lucas.)

Anyway, the point is, they're going on a date. An honest-to-god, dressed up sorta nice, food and small talk and, you know, whatever else you do on a date Date. And speaking of not knowing what the hell you're doing, the first thought Lucas had upon seeing Sebastien once they'd both finished getting ready was a breathless sort of jumble that translates roughly to, But soft, what light through yonder window breaks... And you know the rest and I'm not elaborating because he's an embarrassment, honestly. Still, Lucas tries very hard to convey this feeling, several times, with words and without success, because Lucas' insides feel like warm melted caramel whenever Bash looks at him.

"You, um, you know, you're like, wow," is the closest he gets to right, stammered as they re-enter the park. Lucas hopes a meteorite falls out of the sky and ends his pain. He squeezes Bash's hand, anyway, expression fond, if a bit owlish.

Sometimes it's very hard to remember that somewhere, outside of the crazed and manic insides of a person's brain, there are other people with other people brains possibly also freaking out. About the same thing. Because months is probably a really long time to wait before going on a date? Like a real Date. Because it kind of has to be real now. It's serious and he's serious (Not that he wasn't also serious about eating 80 churros with Lucas. But this is different. This is serious with intent. Capital letters Serious.) and, god, he should have done this forever ago and then this wouldn't be as big of a deal. It would just be another date. Instead of a Date.

Should he have picked something fancier? Shit, he should've picked something fancier. He's never going to be able to afford something actually fancy ever again and now he's gone and wasted it on - Well, okay, not wasted? Because it looks - Or he thinks it looks like something Lucas would like? Google had certainly painted a convincing enough picture?

So Bash maybe beams at the guy manning the scanner with a crazed sort of panic catching at the very corners of his mouth the collar of his shirt is maybe making an attempt to slowly asphyxiate him and Lucas looks - well, Lucas always looks like the nicest thing he's ever seen? So that's not new. And he maybe misses like the first three words out of his boyfriend's mouth to blinking kind of stupidly.

"Um?" he says, spinning to face Lucas and sort of idly hoping not to trip over a kiosk. "That's - a good wow? Not a - good lord wow?"

"Oh, good wow." The reply rushes out of him at first, trailed by a breathy laugh. But then he slows himself, purposefully, voice dropping low and soft and warm. With a nervous hand he adjusts Bash's collar, gnawing on his lower lip and meeting the other boy's gaze for a brief moment before saying, "Definitely a good wow. Never a good lord wow."

He's sorely tempted to let it stand there. And he does, for a while. Or, at least, it's a few steps toward their destination before he gives it a try, again. Because clarification is important. "You look... amazing." That's a bit better, and easier, too, because he can just say it into the air and not to his boyfriend's face while they walk. It feels a little dramatic, but he means it.

And that is kind of mortifying in and of itself? Like, how many times has he told Bash he looks good? Why is it so hard this time? Shit. Okay, stop. Reroute. "Um, think there's anything only lightly illegal to break into here?" Lucas asks with a grin that says he's only mostly joking.

Oh. Okay, that was a ill thought-out question. That was a ill thought-out question that he really never should have asked. Just - okay. Lucas' fingers are on his collar and eye contact should probably be considered an Olympic sport (based on difficulty of maintenance and necessary skill levels and ) and the skin across his nose feels like it's maybe on actual fire? And not exactly in a way that he can pass off as sudden onset sunburn. In that it's blotchy and hot and maybe actively migrating.

"You totally saw my hair this morning," Bash says. Or maybe squeaks. Just a little bit right around the middle - which makes the whole thing sound more like a question than he initially intended. (God, he was doing so much better this morning. What happened to Bash of six hours ago? He was super cool. When will that dude come back from the war?) "That was definitely a good lord wow."

And then they're moving. Sort of crookedly and jostly and through the crowd of people on Hollywood Boulevard but, okay, moving is good. Moving is nice. Cross-ventilation air conditioning feels excellent and his collar feels a lot less like it's cutting off his air supply.

"I mean, I'd really like to break into the Ewok treehouse," he replies, his own grin twitching back upward at the corners. Now this is a topic he can get behind. "But I'm pretty damn certain that'd get us super kicked out of the whole place."

"Kinda thought the bed head was cute, too?" Lucas shrugs up one shoulder as he casts a sidelong glance at Bash. The unevenness in his voice doing little more than making Lucas' smile spread wider. He breathes a quiet laugh.

It makes moving through the crowd easier, although Lucas' posture does shrink up, head hiding in his shoulders while they weave through people. He has to remind himself to focus on his boyfriend. On the conversation. Lucas slows his gait. "Another time, then," he says, brows tilting up mischievously as he bobs his head. "Don't want to get double secret expelled from Gooseberry for a Return of the Jedi scene." He pauses, head lolling thoughtfully. "Maybe an A New Hope scene, though?"

Bash snorts as he tugs Lucas a bit closer by their joined hands, sidestepping a wailing lump of screaming toddler that drops itself down onto the pavement with selectively superhuman skill. "You're obviously delusional and I'm concerned for you."

He stops for a second, up on the curb and reveling in his extra three inches of height. "I dunno," he hums, nose wrinkling up in very deep thought. "There's some good bits in Return of the Jedi." Okay, they're mostly involving strangulation while wearing bikinis or embarrassing in their use of select phrases he isn't precisely ready to repeat verbally - but there are definitely some promising bits potentially worthy of double secret expulsion.

"I just see the truth of things," Lucas replies, thinking he sounds very mystical as he looks skyward, almost prayerful. But then he's turning his smirk back on Bash and bumping against him. "Don't put me in a home or anything."

He looks Bash over, amused. An extra three inches still leaves three inches of separation. It's enough to... Lucas hesitates, gaze flicking up and then down before he settles on planting a kiss, quick and affectionate, on his boyfriend's forehead.

"True," he drawls afterward, considering. He dips his chin, leveling a sheepish smile at Bash. "Empire's...where it's at, though." But, double secret expulsion, however tempting, can wait. They need to have a Date, first, at least. And that thought sort of unsettles everything in Lucas' chest all over again. He clears his throat. "Do you, um, know what you want to get? Milkshake for sure, right?"

"You say that like I could afford to put you in a home," Bash says, rocking easily with the contact. "We're gonna have to settle for monitoring you closely."

Lucas leans in and all of the buzzing, humming, vibrating things in his skull go quiet and curious and attentive. Which, while very nice, is not what his height-advantage was supposed to net him. So he frowns - shooting for stern and missing by quite a few miles - and goes up on his toes to press a kiss against the curve of Lucas' mouth, all quick and soft and safe for (oh god, very) public consumption.

It's - Yeah, so it's not probably not all that effective as far as revenge tactics go? But that's okay. He's cool with it. In it for the long game. Or something.

"The Empire can probably wait until after we get milkshakes," he concedes, grinning and scrubbing the heel of his free hand across the lingering redness on his cheeks. "Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?"

For a split second after Bash draws away, Lucas stands still, eyes closed, lips parted slightly, smile gone soft around the edges. On the one hand, it's the greatest feeling in the world. On the other, slightly inconvenient to look like someone just struck a gong by your ear every time your boyfriend kisses you. Especially in public. But, given the choice, Lucas would keep this feeling until the heat death of the universe. Given the choice between this and anything else? This, one hundred percent of the time.

"Um, er," he presses his lips together, eyes opening wide and face full of color as he collects and resorts thoughts scattered like papers blown in the wind. He doesn't really need to, but Lucas presses his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his free hand, corners of his mouth ticking up. "Strawberry. The Empire can wait for a strawberry milkshake. And probably some kind of burger."

It's a nice expression - kind of silly, sure, but soft and faraway and Bash is totally content to spend a few seconds appreciating it while listening to tinny music over hidden speakers, being mildly jostled by the rush of passersby and rocking himself back on his heels.

"Well, we gotta get the rest of the way there first," he points out, simultaneously making no real move to go anywhere. Which, yeah, bit counterproductive. But he's rebooting his systems one by one. It's a process and he isn't a state-of-the-line model. "So the Empire has no real choice."

"Making the Empire wait is very cocky of you," Lucas leans in close when he delivers his teasing warning, looking down his nose at Bash with a lopsided smirk. "I--I like it." Not quite nailing the intended execution, but it's okay. Close enough, right?

He lets just one more racing heartbeat pass before he gives his boyfriend's hand a tug and sets off again toward their destination, doing his best to hide the nervous breath he draws in a skyward glance, heart still fluttering in his chest. Because somehow, after six months, the butterflies have only gotten more restless every time Lucas looks at Bash.

He's so distracted with the thought he almost walks into an oncoming couple, both of them in mouse ears. He turns sideways and manages, by sheer noodliness, to avoid a collision. "Sorry," he says to the couple as they pass. And then he repeats, to his boyfriend, biting down on an embarrassed smile. "Sorry." So much for seeming cool and confident. That lasted about four seconds.

"The Empire's could probably stand some waiting," Bash muses, grin wide and expressing little to no concern. "Maybe some strategic planning time. Think about why it's a good idea not to put an explodey hatch right in the middle of their gigantic murder ball."

Being forcefully started is good. It's very good. He really needs to - to figure out how his limbs work and where they're going and if he's able to navigate the whole legs situation maybe the finer workings of utensil-holding bits won't be too daunting later.

"Dude, what you sorry to me for?" he laughs, knocking their shoulders together pointedly and veering off to the left. (In the right direction, for once. Which happens to be left.) A snort, head tipping in quick assessment. "What're you sorry to them for? I'm pretty sure I've knocked into half the continental United States in the last few days."

"I just, um," Lucas smiles, rocking against Bash when their shoulders collide and pulling his hand closer so they can't spread too far apart. "Force of habit. Don't want to be in the way." Or, more in the way than he feels like he is, normally. "Rubbing elbows with more people here than I did at the Cotillion."

They've already been through here multiple times this weekend, but it doesn't stop Lucas from gawking at the scenery like it's the first time he's laid eyes on it. He doesn't do a great job of paying attention to where they're going, and trusts Bash to make the right turns to take them to their destination.

"That was a pretty significant design oversight," Lucas agrees, attention back on his boyfriend. "Somebody got a write up for that choice."

Bash shakes his head, dropping Lucas' fingers only to slot himself into the available space under his arm. "Impossible." It's said with a convincing degree of certainty. "You couldn't be in the way if you tried."

His grin tips up, eyes narrowing at the board as they stumble their way past the entrance to the Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular! There's another showing at six. They could totally hit up another showing at six. It's right - Bash winces one eye shut, drumming his fingertips along Lucas' side and picking up the pace. They are not hitting up another showing at six because they are going to dinner. At now.

"I feel like somebody probably exploded," he tips up one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Which is probably enough punishment in and of itself?" Instant karma. Like the worst kind of instant karma.

Adjusting his arm to accommodate his boyfriend's presence is reflexive, now. And that's...nice. Lucas moves his hand over Bash's back, fingers dragging over his shoulders before coming to a rest. He ducks his head, pressing his face into Bash's hair long enough to mumble, "sure," and exhale a contented sigh.

"No three strike policy in the Empire," Lucas agrees, skipping once when their pace quickens to avoid his long legs tangling clumsily. He glances at the sign for the stunt show over his shoulder once it's behind them. He gives Bash's shoulder a squeeze. "Think we can sneak over and catch one more show tomorrow before we leave?"

Bash takes a long moment to evaluate his life choices over the course of the last year in light of finding a potential answer to how in fuck's name he managed to end up here. Not as in Disney World. (Though, yeah. He definitely has some incredulous questions on that topic too. Rich kid school is nuts.) But as in tripping over his own feet next to someone who consistently puts up with his short attention span and talks in movie references. Cause - huh. He laughs, muffles a whole lot of discordant noise into Lucas' side that, with proximity, is probably translated with relative ease into: "Holy shit, Ilikeyouthemost."

Then he clears his throat and straightens himself up to his full - and decidedly unimpressive - height, nodding in mock solemnity. "Yeah, I feel like maybe we could swing it. And one last run to Star Tours too."

A whole rush of something-or-other hits Lucas when Bash buries his face in his side. Enough force to crack his smile into something big and ridiculous and utterly lopsided. Enough to make him laugh right back, that bright, nervous, up-and-down sound.

"Perfect," he says, sort of breathlessly, both his shoulders popping up as he tries to mitigate his absurd grin. "One last adventure before we head home."

He calls that feeling something-or-other, but he knows exactly what it is - can recall, clearly, every single time Bash has made his head go all bubbly and his heart jump into his throat. "I..." There's a lot more about to spill out, but Lucas presses the knuckles of his free hand to his mouth. He swallows that down and goes for something a bit more careful, instead. "Don't know what I even did with myself, before you."

There's a desire to stop, right there, and just spit out what he's wanted to say for weeks, now. But they're almost to the restaurant. And what if he says it and it's not right? Or something goes wrong? Or people stare? Or? Or? So, he just pulls his boyfriend a little closer as they wind their way around the bend in the wide walkway and their destination comes into view.

"Those bastards shuck me off to Gungan again and I'm gonna have some words for the ride algorithm." His nose twitches, frown attempting to get itself somewhere in the neighborhood of stern and missing by a mile, too comfortable and stupidly happy to make it even halfway there. He shakes his fist though, loosely and without any real ire. It's kinda hard to work up any proper ire in the current environment.

But then he's laughing again, bright and some strange mix of sheepish and delighted that he still isn't quite sure what to do with. It isn't that he doesn't want Lucas to know what do to with himself - it's just that he kind of wants to be there, maybe even this exact amount of there, when he's doing it. It's a guilty, thrilled, strange thing that he doesn't want to accidentally land mine himself on. But he does know with relative certainty that it'd be: "A lot less delinquent shit, no doubt."

Then they're turning the corner and Bash tilts his head up to glance at the small crowd outside of the restaurant and it's - Well, honestly, it's real cute. Looks something like a little hole-in-the-wall and that same, earlier strangling sensation sneaks up on him again, clawing syllables straight out of his throat.

"Do you -" Shut up, Guppy. No. "Should I have -" Ugh, stop words. Not now. "Um." Wow, that doesn't even count. Which - if his mouth is going to go like this he's at least going to get a full sentence out of it.

"This is okay, right?" It comes out fast and a little uneven, wrangles an entirely unimpressive hiccuping of breath out of him, words reaching such a level of miserable failure that he can feel his fingers starting to twitch with it. "I mean, I know that we could've - that there were - There was fake France. I should've taken you to fake France."

"Nobody could possibly be that unlucky," Lucas replies, catching a laugh in the palm of his hand and shoving his glasses back up on his face in the process - because they actually needed it, this time.

Then, his expression screws up, grin going uneven, one brow quirking up, bewildered, while Bash laughs. "Um, sure, of course. But that also sounds boring as hell, man. I'm sticking with you." He punctuates it with a playful nudge of Bash's ribs. As though the alternative were even an option. But it's nice enough to say it, out loud.

All that bluster disappears once they're staring down the Sci-Fi Dine-in Theater. Lucas gnaws on his lower lip, corner of his mouth hiking high up on one side. It falters - just a bit - when Bash struggles with words. His eyebrows knit up, vaguely worried. "It's exactly where I want to go. Fake France is cool, but this..."

"You know me," he says it at first like it's going to lead into something else. A self-deprecating joke, probably. But he just trails off, instead. He thinks about it for a beat, then meets Bash's gaze and repeats it - exclaims it - sounding sure. Almost like he's just received a gift. "You know me."

Oh. That's definitely a thing. That's happening. And it's the certainty of it unknots the barely-restrained stiffness that had been trying to settle itself along his shoulders - all instantly like he's wound up on a single string and the words go and loosen everything up again, make it easier to breathe in an abrupt sort of way that leaves him blinking, just a bit bewildered.

"Okay?" He nods, maybe just a bit too fast, but focused - chin tilted up and eyes wide and yeah, that sort of settles something warm in the pit of his stomach. So he repeats it, a bit louder and a lot less wobbly. "Okay."

Bash bounces slightly, up onto his toes and shaking the rest of the excess everything out of his free hand, before trying out a far more successful grin. "I mean, you're maybe missing out on some creme brulee? But - next time?"

Lucas makes a sound, soft and pleased, in the back of his throat. A bit of a hum, involuntarily charmed out of him by Bash's nervous energy.

"Yeah," he says, noticing, at that point, a stray curl dangling out of place on his boyfriend's forehead.

Dithering a moment, fingers hanging in the air, Lucas reaches up to move the offending lock out of the way. Then decides that, while he's there, he might as well slide his hand behind his boyfriend's neck. And from that point, well, it's only natural that he lean down to steal a kiss. Or, maybe you'd call it politely requesting a kiss, the way he sways in, slow and deliberate for something delivered quick and a little shy. They're in public, after all. He laughs a little as he draws away, embarrassed but thankful he could keep a lid on the giggles until after his thievery, that time. "Next time, definitely."

With most of his face and the back of his neck hot and burning, he nods toward the crowd at the entrance. When tries to speak, he croaks, and clears his throat before having another go at it. "You, um, you ready?"

Bash is a bit busy looking up at Lucas' fingers and going a bit cross-eyed in the process (he really needs to get himself a haircut, god damn) so the kiss comes as a surprise, despite the very clear signs that preceded it. So he's all caught up for a moment, chasing the motion and almost overbalancing himself - which, wow, this is a thing that he should not be doing in front of strangers with small children. Looking that smacked-upside-the-head stupid in public is probably bad for childhood development or something. Probably somewhere in the DSM-5 under disruptive, impulse-control, and conduct disorders.

"Uh-huh," he says, words totally neat and not at all wandering distractedly along the same tangents his brain is. It's a bit impressive, honestly. "Definitely."

Bash blinks one more time, hastily tugging all of his stray threads in and flashing a wide grin. "Yup. We're good. We're set." He snags Lucas' fingers, tugs them both back into motion. "C'mon. I wanna see how many times we get to see the trailer for Santa Claus Conquers the Martians."

"Oh, add that to the list." Lucas pokes a finger forward as Bash drags them both off, because making a mental note of these sorts of things rarely sticks. "The 'Santa Quits His Day Job' folder needs more movies."

They press into the crowd and it doesn't even bother Lucas that much. He's far too preoccupied with how everything inside of him feels light and bouncy and like it'll never settle. So, it's not so hard to just tilt himself slightly as they slip by a huddled family blocking the way.

"It's, like, normal to sit side-by-side, here, right?" He asks, but his question is immediately answered once they've stepped inside, and, somehow, he seems even more delighted than he did before.

Bash glances backward quickly - not enough to slow his progress, but just enough to look intrigued - his face scrunching clear up on one side, bunching up freckles as it goes. "Are there really that many movies about what Santa gets up to in his free time?"

Though, he supposes, when a dude has 364 days out of the year to chill out and prep for one night? They probably have a lot of time to hunt down aliens. Or learn how to surf professionally. Or maybe join a biker gang or something.

Then he's laughing, quiet and with his chin dipped toward his chest, as Lucas grins into the open space of the dining area. "It's a drive-in. You gotta sit next to each other or it's a taxi."

"That is a good point." Lucas tips his head sheepishly as they're led to their car-shaped booth. There's a lot going on around them, and Lucas is immediately distracted by all of it. The giant screen is one thing, but there's the ceiling to gawk at and one of the waiters is in character as a police officer.

It's a lot. It makes him sort of anxious, but it's all so exciting he can push that aside. And Lucas keeps up, somehow, and gives Bash's hand a squeeze before sliding into the seat. He accepts a menu with a practiced, polite but still shy smile and immediately turns his attention to his boyfriend. "This is wild," he mutters, leaning in close. "It's...great. This is great. Thank you."

Two Nerds Go On A Capital D Date

professionalcorpse - 2017-11-27 04:36 (UTC) - Expand

Two Nerds Go On A Capital D Date

bubblewrapped - 2017-11-27 05:32 (UTC) - Expand

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