Mel and I just gonna be good ol fashion campers having fun!
Just FYI for those that want to be counselors. Two cabins already have interested people. So that leaves two other cabins. A male and a female for each. Four positions left for counselors.
LovelyComplex
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hi, yes, im here. interested. (shuush yes i know i co-gm)
Character name: Mia Cosette Chambers
FC: Sonya Rudskaya (blonde pictures)
color reservation: ff8e6d
Cabin: Pink.
Character name: Mia Cosette Chambers
FC: Sonya Rudskaya (blonde pictures)
color reservation: ff8e6d
Cabin: Pink.
"Did you know dysfunction is a form of function, Caspian? Whether its because of a psychosis or in your case, anger, you're dealing with something and you turn to rage as a means of survival. You deliberately choose to avoid more cerebral reactions and whatever that reason may be is now your function. How you cope. Ah, but we won't have a solution until we discover why your dysfunction is true. We can treat your symptoms, but to find a cure would take much longer... I need time with you. I'm a firm believer that talking things out will not only help us find the root cause to your dysfunction, but also help you understand yourself. I know you think whatever you tell me will reach your father, but I can assure you, it won't. Trust me when I say I'm here for you. No one else, but you."
Sitting on his Villa Valencia bed that reminds one of the look and feel of old world Spain, with distinctive marquetry and intricate embellishments, Caspian Grey, who was sleep deprived, in only but his black boxer briefs, stared at the design of his vintage Karastan rug. The past two weeks came and went, completely and utterly in a blur. Eventful, but something he hoped had ended differently. His therapist had told him he had gotten so frustrated at his father that he broke his mother's favorite Cloisonné decorative vase, the one with the birds and flowers. The words of his therapist were foreign, as if the stranger was weaving a tall tale and Cas was the main character in this bizarre fable.
Where there should be memories, there was blank space. Static in his brain, nothing more and nothing less. He felt like if there were answers for his 'dysfunction', he would've found them already. See, Caspian was aware he forgot, he was aware that there were periods of time he couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried. There were moments in his life that if he truly, deeply needed to dig deep and retrieve, he would need to find bread crumbs first. Yet, all he could find were will-o'-the-wisps leading him astray. No one wanted to provide him with information and no one wanted to help him. Instead, they made it a stranger's problem because he was 'angry'. If there was any sort of reason for his foggy, chaotic mind, it was because he suffered from insomnia and the solution was simple: give him pills, not therapy.
There was so much Caspian couldn't recall, like the fact that he didn't give his twin sister a proper goodbye before she was suddenly sent off with luggage to Emma Willard School, located in Troy, New York. He remembered the discussion of the merge of the two schools. He remembered telling his sister to leave it to him, that it would all be taken care of. He remembered preparing his points, focusing on charity, community, and a challenge, coming up with an appealing presentation that he knew his father would like. He remembered his father's cold stare and how slow and thorough he carved into his steak. He remembered his mother's lavender dress, her sitting there as a bystander, avoiding meeting her son's gaze, as his twin excused herself early, not being able to handle the tension. He remembered.
But after that point?
Nothing.
A missing page in his book.
At last, Caspian knew he would be wasting time thinking about everything and nothing at all. Instead, he would prepare for his day and take a step forward to showing his father that he could make something beautiful out of a seemingly worthless place. A waste of time, as Simeon Grey put it. Call it ideals or hope but Caspian believed that the worst circumstances could bring out one's true strengths and even a school like Rosefell deserved to be tended to — the flowers were only wilting softly. All the school needed was time, attention, and a healthy environment. There was no room for failure. For if he failed, he may not see his sister for the rest of the school year.
"Caspian, breakfast will be ready in thirty." A gravelly calm and flat male voice was heard on the other side of the door.
Looking up from the rug, the young heir exhaustingly uttered, "Are they still here?"
The man was quick to respond. "No sir, your father has left for the day and your mother is on her morning walk."
"Great. I'd like to eat in the conservatory then, please." With sudden ease washing over him, Caspian stood up and stretched his body, prepared to take on his day, repressing the knot in his stomach.
"Of course."
Acknowledging his butler's response, the young Grey dismissed the humble servant with a simple, "Thanks." From there, he was ready to take a bath, get dressed, eat food, and enter this new chapter in his story. A new chapter, without his sister. Caspian hated she wasn't at his side for this endeavor, he hated he wasn't at her side either, but there was no point in beating himself up about it. He failed her, so the only way to make it up was to keep his word and make Rosefell beautiful.
Most importantly though, he was eager to leave this barren household for half a day. Nothing against the house, it was extravagantly beautiful, historically awe-inspiring, and wondrously enchanting, but the sooner he left, the better. He didn't want to deal with his mother, who most definitely blamed him for getting Calypso shipped off, among other things. It was for the best if they left things at wordless glares. He didn't need her becoming hysterically loud and unbearable because he brought up something she didn't want to hear. In addition to that, it was unnervingly quiet, without Callie around. This godforsaken place needed her high-spirited energy and playful demeanor. Without it? It felt incredibly cold. There was no heart. So, the sooner he left, the better.
Since Caspian had learned about the merge, he didn't waste a second. First, he created a Rosefell High School Fund, attaching a link to the outdated school site. It would take much longer to build a foundation, finding board members to spearhead the mission that aimed to provide resources that will help increase students' upward mobility and success. For now, he simply had a place for students and parents to make donations, anonymously or not. As such, he was the first anonymous donation, in hopes that more people would want to donate, and even sent a tip to the local news station about the merge and the fund. He chose not to reveal how much he donated, but if people wanted to really know, it was nearly half a million dollars (450,000 to be exact) to cover everything he wanted, and some.
Secondly, he developed a landscape plan that would govern the care and maintenance of the Rosefell campus, so that he could continue to work in the shadows, with a small committee in charge of making his vision a reality. His donation would cover contracts with three work personnel for one year (which could be renewed depending on the success rate), the landscape superintendent and two gardeners for maintenance — any other assistance would be left for community volunteers until they raise more money — and a contract with a landscape company, covering the bases of hard landscaping, hedging, planting trees, screening, and turfing.
The cushion money would refurbish the school fountain and ideally cover installments like a greenhouse, a botanical garden, and a gazebo. Based on his calculations, he put more than enough money in the fund to cover landscaping, but if he needed to he would either convince his father for a large allowance or he'd try to get the students to participate in small school fundraisers, like a bake sale or a car wash. Any other school projects would be put on hold until he surveyed the areas that could use the support of Liberty wealth.
So yeah, one can say Caspian crammed a lot within such a short time and today was the day everything would start happening. Sitting in his station wagon, in a parking spot by shade, he looked at his watch, before peering at the lot's entrance where suddenly two large landscape trucks came in, followed by three vans, pulling up far from the school building, where the landscape superintendent was waiting for them. "Right on time," he whispered.
As if the morning wasn't already chaotic, WSYX ABC 6 came speeding in to be the first to cover the first day of the merge. Caspian had already warned Principal Jameson and VP Berkley that their presence would be needed for an interview, and if they could get a couple of students to talk about their 'excitement', even better. A couple staff members led the news team to the football field, which was the most attractive setting in this whole place. Coverage and publicity was important, for something as big as this, especially if they wanted to bring awareness to Columbus for the sake of bringing in money flow to a rundown, neglected school like Rosefell.
Nodding to himself, Caspian exited his car, wearing a short-sleeved shirt, neat trousers, and smart shoes. A lighter ensemble than usual because he wasn't trying to stand out in a black turtle neck and dress pants. He wanted to look approachable, as if he was going to a film festival or something, not some scary, edgy rich white boy. Plus if his sister was here, she would've suggested him wearing white for a change. Here the Dark Lord was wearing a white shirt and even chose to wear his glasses, which she loved to see. A good compromise, as if he had this discussion with Callie back at home.
When he saw the email with his tour guide's name, he was quick to google her. Thank god he did, because he wouldn't expect someone with such a sweet name to be so... feisty, matching her handle @feistyspice. Her Facebook was misleading, displaying a lady with a great goth aesthetic, who had a wonderful friendship with this girl she called Minty, pictures of her with her family, people from California, and general memes/interests. It was cute. Shortly after, he started going deep down the rabbit hole though, which led him to her Instagram.
To put it in simple terms, she was... confidant in a sexual way. What was that term his sister used? Lewd. Yes, his tour guide was lewd, sporting lingerie pics in distracting positions, displaying her best parts by putting the camera at an angle to make her desirable to a perverted eye, and her being touchy with people he didn't care to know. He did like the pictures that showcased her make up and hair styling talents. If anything he found that more attractive than everything else. But, Caspian wasn't one to shame a woman so if this is what makes her feel good, then who was he to judge. She was beautiful and she knew it.
When he entered the building, Caspian was taken aback at the sudden splash of color and sparkle. There was a large sign that screamed 'WELCOME TO ROSEFELL' with shades of blue, white, silver, using all the supplies under the sun you could get at a neighbor craft store like fuzzy pom poms, glitter, and paint. What a sweet gesture to use Liberty colors. Maybe his classmates would appreciate it, maybe not. Granted, Caspian would be one of the few from his school who would say he liked the red and black of Rosefell more than the blue and silver. Well, his favorite color was red, after all. On top of that statement piece, there were streamers, balloons, and more glitter. God, there was glitter everywhere. Cas would hate to be the guy responsible of cleaning this up.
His attention was ripped away from the amazon of decor around him when a boy started cursing by the sign up table. Someone really hated name tags... patiently waiting for the abrasive boy to go away, Caspian went to the table, grabbed a marker, and wrote his name in elegant handwriting that mirrored a form of calligraphy. His expression lightened when he saw Christian frustrated close by, wondering how to find his tour guide. Sliding his way beside a familiar face, who was one of the kinder boys at Liberty High, he politely asked, "Mind if I wait here with you?" He'll know his tour guide when he sees her, she was definitely not someone you can miss. His gaze went from Christian to his black pants. Damn. Glitter was on it already.
~
Sitting on his Villa Valencia bed that reminds one of the look and feel of old world Spain, with distinctive marquetry and intricate embellishments, Caspian Grey, who was sleep deprived, in only but his black boxer briefs, stared at the design of his vintage Karastan rug. The past two weeks came and went, completely and utterly in a blur. Eventful, but something he hoped had ended differently. His therapist had told him he had gotten so frustrated at his father that he broke his mother's favorite Cloisonné decorative vase, the one with the birds and flowers. The words of his therapist were foreign, as if the stranger was weaving a tall tale and Cas was the main character in this bizarre fable.
Where there should be memories, there was blank space. Static in his brain, nothing more and nothing less. He felt like if there were answers for his 'dysfunction', he would've found them already. See, Caspian was aware he forgot, he was aware that there were periods of time he couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried. There were moments in his life that if he truly, deeply needed to dig deep and retrieve, he would need to find bread crumbs first. Yet, all he could find were will-o'-the-wisps leading him astray. No one wanted to provide him with information and no one wanted to help him. Instead, they made it a stranger's problem because he was 'angry'. If there was any sort of reason for his foggy, chaotic mind, it was because he suffered from insomnia and the solution was simple: give him pills, not therapy.
There was so much Caspian couldn't recall, like the fact that he didn't give his twin sister a proper goodbye before she was suddenly sent off with luggage to Emma Willard School, located in Troy, New York. He remembered the discussion of the merge of the two schools. He remembered telling his sister to leave it to him, that it would all be taken care of. He remembered preparing his points, focusing on charity, community, and a challenge, coming up with an appealing presentation that he knew his father would like. He remembered his father's cold stare and how slow and thorough he carved into his steak. He remembered his mother's lavender dress, her sitting there as a bystander, avoiding meeting her son's gaze, as his twin excused herself early, not being able to handle the tension. He remembered.
But after that point?
Nothing.
A missing page in his book.
At last, Caspian knew he would be wasting time thinking about everything and nothing at all. Instead, he would prepare for his day and take a step forward to showing his father that he could make something beautiful out of a seemingly worthless place. A waste of time, as Simeon Grey put it. Call it ideals or hope but Caspian believed that the worst circumstances could bring out one's true strengths and even a school like Rosefell deserved to be tended to — the flowers were only wilting softly. All the school needed was time, attention, and a healthy environment. There was no room for failure. For if he failed, he may not see his sister for the rest of the school year.
"Caspian, breakfast will be ready in thirty." A gravelly calm and flat male voice was heard on the other side of the door.
Looking up from the rug, the young heir exhaustingly uttered, "Are they still here?"
The man was quick to respond. "No sir, your father has left for the day and your mother is on her morning walk."
"Great. I'd like to eat in the conservatory then, please." With sudden ease washing over him, Caspian stood up and stretched his body, prepared to take on his day, repressing the knot in his stomach.
"Of course."
Acknowledging his butler's response, the young Grey dismissed the humble servant with a simple, "Thanks." From there, he was ready to take a bath, get dressed, eat food, and enter this new chapter in his story. A new chapter, without his sister. Caspian hated she wasn't at his side for this endeavor, he hated he wasn't at her side either, but there was no point in beating himself up about it. He failed her, so the only way to make it up was to keep his word and make Rosefell beautiful.
Most importantly though, he was eager to leave this barren household for half a day. Nothing against the house, it was extravagantly beautiful, historically awe-inspiring, and wondrously enchanting, but the sooner he left, the better. He didn't want to deal with his mother, who most definitely blamed him for getting Calypso shipped off, among other things. It was for the best if they left things at wordless glares. He didn't need her becoming hysterically loud and unbearable because he brought up something she didn't want to hear. In addition to that, it was unnervingly quiet, without Callie around. This godforsaken place needed her high-spirited energy and playful demeanor. Without it? It felt incredibly cold. There was no heart. So, the sooner he left, the better.
~
Since Caspian had learned about the merge, he didn't waste a second. First, he created a Rosefell High School Fund, attaching a link to the outdated school site. It would take much longer to build a foundation, finding board members to spearhead the mission that aimed to provide resources that will help increase students' upward mobility and success. For now, he simply had a place for students and parents to make donations, anonymously or not. As such, he was the first anonymous donation, in hopes that more people would want to donate, and even sent a tip to the local news station about the merge and the fund. He chose not to reveal how much he donated, but if people wanted to really know, it was nearly half a million dollars (450,000 to be exact) to cover everything he wanted, and some.
Secondly, he developed a landscape plan that would govern the care and maintenance of the Rosefell campus, so that he could continue to work in the shadows, with a small committee in charge of making his vision a reality. His donation would cover contracts with three work personnel for one year (which could be renewed depending on the success rate), the landscape superintendent and two gardeners for maintenance — any other assistance would be left for community volunteers until they raise more money — and a contract with a landscape company, covering the bases of hard landscaping, hedging, planting trees, screening, and turfing.
The cushion money would refurbish the school fountain and ideally cover installments like a greenhouse, a botanical garden, and a gazebo. Based on his calculations, he put more than enough money in the fund to cover landscaping, but if he needed to he would either convince his father for a large allowance or he'd try to get the students to participate in small school fundraisers, like a bake sale or a car wash. Any other school projects would be put on hold until he surveyed the areas that could use the support of Liberty wealth.
So yeah, one can say Caspian crammed a lot within such a short time and today was the day everything would start happening. Sitting in his station wagon, in a parking spot by shade, he looked at his watch, before peering at the lot's entrance where suddenly two large landscape trucks came in, followed by three vans, pulling up far from the school building, where the landscape superintendent was waiting for them. "Right on time," he whispered.
As if the morning wasn't already chaotic, WSYX ABC 6 came speeding in to be the first to cover the first day of the merge. Caspian had already warned Principal Jameson and VP Berkley that their presence would be needed for an interview, and if they could get a couple of students to talk about their 'excitement', even better. A couple staff members led the news team to the football field, which was the most attractive setting in this whole place. Coverage and publicity was important, for something as big as this, especially if they wanted to bring awareness to Columbus for the sake of bringing in money flow to a rundown, neglected school like Rosefell.
Nodding to himself, Caspian exited his car, wearing a short-sleeved shirt, neat trousers, and smart shoes. A lighter ensemble than usual because he wasn't trying to stand out in a black turtle neck and dress pants. He wanted to look approachable, as if he was going to a film festival or something, not some scary, edgy rich white boy. Plus if his sister was here, she would've suggested him wearing white for a change. Here the Dark Lord was wearing a white shirt and even chose to wear his glasses, which she loved to see. A good compromise, as if he had this discussion with Callie back at home.
When he saw the email with his tour guide's name, he was quick to google her. Thank god he did, because he wouldn't expect someone with such a sweet name to be so... feisty, matching her handle @feistyspice. Her Facebook was misleading, displaying a lady with a great goth aesthetic, who had a wonderful friendship with this girl she called Minty, pictures of her with her family, people from California, and general memes/interests. It was cute. Shortly after, he started going deep down the rabbit hole though, which led him to her Instagram.
To put it in simple terms, she was... confidant in a sexual way. What was that term his sister used? Lewd. Yes, his tour guide was lewd, sporting lingerie pics in distracting positions, displaying her best parts by putting the camera at an angle to make her desirable to a perverted eye, and her being touchy with people he didn't care to know. He did like the pictures that showcased her make up and hair styling talents. If anything he found that more attractive than everything else. But, Caspian wasn't one to shame a woman so if this is what makes her feel good, then who was he to judge. She was beautiful and she knew it.
When he entered the building, Caspian was taken aback at the sudden splash of color and sparkle. There was a large sign that screamed 'WELCOME TO ROSEFELL' with shades of blue, white, silver, using all the supplies under the sun you could get at a neighbor craft store like fuzzy pom poms, glitter, and paint. What a sweet gesture to use Liberty colors. Maybe his classmates would appreciate it, maybe not. Granted, Caspian would be one of the few from his school who would say he liked the red and black of Rosefell more than the blue and silver. Well, his favorite color was red, after all. On top of that statement piece, there were streamers, balloons, and more glitter. God, there was glitter everywhere. Cas would hate to be the guy responsible of cleaning this up.
His attention was ripped away from the amazon of decor around him when a boy started cursing by the sign up table. Someone really hated name tags... patiently waiting for the abrasive boy to go away, Caspian went to the table, grabbed a marker, and wrote his name in elegant handwriting that mirrored a form of calligraphy. His expression lightened when he saw Christian frustrated close by, wondering how to find his tour guide. Sliding his way beside a familiar face, who was one of the kinder boys at Liberty High, he politely asked, "Mind if I wait here with you?" He'll know his tour guide when he sees her, she was definitely not someone you can miss. His gaze went from Christian to his black pants. Damn. Glitter was on it already.
Things were going swell, for five seconds of him being precariously parked in one of the lanes just so he could hit on a hot redhead. First off, some girls talk too damn much. They had a way of elongating their point with filler words in a spiel that could be said with a simple 'fuck you'. Secondly, they thought they were way more clever than they actually were, using the lollipop to distract him from whatever the hell was coming out of their mouth.
She did have nice lips though...
When Juno gave him a compliment in return, he grinned, "This tie is the shit, and yeah, my eyes is what gets 'em." Spike winked at her. Clearly, everything she said went in one ear and out the other. Hey, at least she calls him DeVito. That guy is a really great dude. Not only because of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia but also that legend has worthy performances in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Big Fish, and so much more.
What a great guy.
He perked up in his seat when another pretty lady came into the picture. Neither of them knew each other, but surely he was allowed to appreciate the sight he saw. Nice tanned skin, a booty to shake, and a build that could put a lot of other girls to shame. Damn, she was fine too. He shined his teeth and casually waved when Juno introduced him as DeVito. She went by Ems. Noted. His stare was short lived when Lilith shouted at him, "Yo Spike! What’s up, dude?!”
"Fucking Christ." He muttered under his breath. Nothing against Lil, but he was starting to realize this was a blaring place to have his car situated. He was like a goddamn beacon of light for all the female insects to fly to. He was conflicted. Was he into it or was there just too many girls around him for his liking? On top of that, there she went calling him by his name, so now these two hot strangers could put a name to his face. Ugh. He liked the added mystery of being called DeVito. "... just giving out some candy. Killin' all the birds with one stone."
While the attention was great, being surrounded by all this estrogen was exasperating when they watched him with judgement in their eyes. Of course, this wasn't enough for him this lovely morning. Of course, Fatal Attraction, a devil incarnated, would come just in the nick of time to assert her dominance. HITTING his grandpa's car, like it didn't mean a thing to him. Then and only then did she reach over him to get her drink, letting him smell her delectable scent and feel her skin against his face. "Of course I got your order right. What, like it's hard? You're predictable, Minty." Her focus didn't last long because it looked like she had suddenly met a long lost sister, or some shit.
Irritable, his eyebrows furrowed, as he rubbed his temple with his fingers. Growling, he called back out to Minty, "YOU'RE WELCOME!" No manners. He went out of his way to get her a drink, after she had sex with all his friends in a bouncy house. The fuck? No appreciation at all.
His last straw came in the form of obnoxious-hot-guy-I'll-serenade-you-with-my-guitar RICO. In his head, he intentionally made Rico's name sound melodramatic, adding emphatic assertion in the form of discontent. Spike's dislike for this charismatic, lover boy was solely because he made ladies swoon by existing. He's loved by everyone and has no enemies and is like all around good. The fuck is this? Bullshit! No one was that perfect. Not even the good Christian girls were perfect.
Okay yeah, fuck this shit. He needed to get outta here. Just when he was going to take his car off of park, and Rico almost got ran over (damn, he should've), Melissa strutted into the picture to give Spike grief and a lecture. Instead of reacting calmly and obediently to the Queen of Thorns, Spike slammed his palm on the car's horn and let it go on for a long minute, "You're right. Fucking off now!" Releasing the horn, not giving a proper goodbye to anyone, he put his car in reverse, pushed on the gas pedal, and decided to take a longer detour to the gym to avoid the crowd. Once he was able to turn his car around, he drove back to the lot entrance, just to go around the parked cars into the lane over. As he past the group once more, but this time at a distance, and in a different lane (cars separated them), he honked his horn again, "Welcome to Rosefell, you're gonna' love it!"
Finally, Spike parked, grabbed all his things (candy, backpack, his skates), and rushed into the gym. With peace, he dropped his things on the bench in the boys' locker room and rested his head on a locker. This place was going to get crowded and he had yet to decide if he was happy about it or not. Recalling Minty's reaction to seeing the redhead, he straightened himself and made a fist, "Who the fuck is Juno?"
She did have nice lips though...
When Juno gave him a compliment in return, he grinned, "This tie is the shit, and yeah, my eyes is what gets 'em." Spike winked at her. Clearly, everything she said went in one ear and out the other. Hey, at least she calls him DeVito. That guy is a really great dude. Not only because of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia but also that legend has worthy performances in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Big Fish, and so much more.
What a great guy.
He perked up in his seat when another pretty lady came into the picture. Neither of them knew each other, but surely he was allowed to appreciate the sight he saw. Nice tanned skin, a booty to shake, and a build that could put a lot of other girls to shame. Damn, she was fine too. He shined his teeth and casually waved when Juno introduced him as DeVito. She went by Ems. Noted. His stare was short lived when Lilith shouted at him, "Yo Spike! What’s up, dude?!”
"Fucking Christ." He muttered under his breath. Nothing against Lil, but he was starting to realize this was a blaring place to have his car situated. He was like a goddamn beacon of light for all the female insects to fly to. He was conflicted. Was he into it or was there just too many girls around him for his liking? On top of that, there she went calling him by his name, so now these two hot strangers could put a name to his face. Ugh. He liked the added mystery of being called DeVito. "... just giving out some candy. Killin' all the birds with one stone."
While the attention was great, being surrounded by all this estrogen was exasperating when they watched him with judgement in their eyes. Of course, this wasn't enough for him this lovely morning. Of course, Fatal Attraction, a devil incarnated, would come just in the nick of time to assert her dominance. HITTING his grandpa's car, like it didn't mean a thing to him. Then and only then did she reach over him to get her drink, letting him smell her delectable scent and feel her skin against his face. "Of course I got your order right. What, like it's hard? You're predictable, Minty." Her focus didn't last long because it looked like she had suddenly met a long lost sister, or some shit.
Irritable, his eyebrows furrowed, as he rubbed his temple with his fingers. Growling, he called back out to Minty, "YOU'RE WELCOME!" No manners. He went out of his way to get her a drink, after she had sex with all his friends in a bouncy house. The fuck? No appreciation at all.
His last straw came in the form of obnoxious-hot-guy-I'll-serenade-you-with-my-guitar RICO. In his head, he intentionally made Rico's name sound melodramatic, adding emphatic assertion in the form of discontent. Spike's dislike for this charismatic, lover boy was solely because he made ladies swoon by existing. He's loved by everyone and has no enemies and is like all around good. The fuck is this? Bullshit! No one was that perfect. Not even the good Christian girls were perfect.
Okay yeah, fuck this shit. He needed to get outta here. Just when he was going to take his car off of park, and Rico almost got ran over (damn, he should've), Melissa strutted into the picture to give Spike grief and a lecture. Instead of reacting calmly and obediently to the Queen of Thorns, Spike slammed his palm on the car's horn and let it go on for a long minute, "You're right. Fucking off now!" Releasing the horn, not giving a proper goodbye to anyone, he put his car in reverse, pushed on the gas pedal, and decided to take a longer detour to the gym to avoid the crowd. Once he was able to turn his car around, he drove back to the lot entrance, just to go around the parked cars into the lane over. As he past the group once more, but this time at a distance, and in a different lane (cars separated them), he honked his horn again, "Welcome to Rosefell, you're gonna' love it!"
Finally, Spike parked, grabbed all his things (candy, backpack, his skates), and rushed into the gym. With peace, he dropped his things on the bench in the boys' locker room and rested his head on a locker. This place was going to get crowded and he had yet to decide if he was happy about it or not. Recalling Minty's reaction to seeing the redhead, he straightened himself and made a fist, "Who the fuck is Juno?"
-
Listening to their workout playlist, Never Give Up by Eminem (Shady Mixes Remix) blasting in the attic of the guest house, the youngest Kingsley siblings spent the past hour working out together, like they usually did before getting ready for school. Their home gym was blaring white, with some pine wood accents and black luxury workout equipment. If it wasn't for the items strategically placed, this room would look like, and feel like, a snowscape. Just how the Kingsleys liked it.
Pulling himself up, letting his chin rest over the bar, squeezing his glutes, Marcos went into another chin up, as Trixie did some burpees on the mat. When they finished their set, Marcos released the bar and cracked his neck, while Beatrix went to the center of the mat, waiting for her brother to evaluate her. "Okay, stances. Then we'll cool down and get out of here."
Since it wasn't the weekend, they wouldn't be doing extensive boxing techniques to build up his sister's strength and endurance. But, he'd still like to watch her, make sure she was prepared for anything. He couldn't always be there for her. As much as he wanted to protect her from harm, he knew it was unrealistic to know where she was 24/7. He didn't want to know what she did all the time, all he needed to know was that she could keep herself safe. Pretending to be her opponent, he unhurriedly asked, "Vulnerable places?"
With vigor, Trixie projected with her strong, powerful, don't-fuck-with-me-voice, "Eyes, nose, throat, and groin," and proceeded into a hammer strike, acting as if she had keys in her hand.
"If someone's coming at you from the front?" He took a step forward, leaning into her and coming for the attack. Without hesitation, she lifted her dominant leg, drove her hips forward, slightly leaned back, and pretended to put as much force into her kick to paralyze her opponent.
In this case, her brother. Even going the extra mile to yell, "Don't fucking touch me!"
Good.
Picking himself off the ground, he continued their routine and asked, "and if they're too close?"
"Well duh, I'm going to use my knee." Trixie grinned at her brother, deciding to go into the next move (the one after the knee stance) which was the heel palm strike. Since her brother was taller than her, by a lot, she went for the throat. After they did a few more self defense moves, they were finally on the last one. Holding her in a side head lock, he waited for her reaction. Quickly, and with the instinct of not being chocked, she pretended to strike her brother's groin with her furthest hand until she was given enough mobility to release herself from the grip and disengage.
Having lost track of time, their older brother, the only one that still resides here, with bed hair, plaid pajama pants, and a Zelda gamer tee on, shuffled upstairs with pizza in his hand and red eyes, "You two bitches need to get ready. Ma will flip her shit if she sees you home when she comes back with groceries."
"Uh... time?" With a raised eyebrow, Trixie reached for a towel and wiped her forehead.
Checking his smart watch (usually only wears while working out), Marcos heavily sighed and saw the time. They had twenty-five minutes to get ready before Richie would be outside honking his horn. Always punctual. Never late. They got caught up in their routine again. "... Richie and Liv will be here soon. Just hurry up, shower, and don't take forever doing your make up."
"Ugh! You got to be kidding me. Thank god I picked my outfit already!" The littlest Kingsley ran down the stairs past her other brother and hurriedly went to the main estate.
"You excited?" Noah obnoxiously chewed on the cold pizza, apathetically observing his catalog-model-looking brother, who was making his way to the stairs that Noah was now blocking. Trixie was small enough to squeeze through.
"Don't eat in here." Marcos waited at the top of the steps, impatiently waiting for his brother to lead the way or move. He was rewarded with an eyeroll, before Noah turned around and sluggishly strolled down the stairs.
Taking a bigger bite, he chewed in silence before scoffing, "You're fucking lucky, dude. I would've killed to go to a school that didn't give a fuck."
"Luck? Is that what we're calling this?"
"Yeah." Noah flatly stared. His dull eyes saying 'I said what I said'. After a moment or two of awkward silence, he gestured for Marcos to go in front of him when they reached the hall to the kitchen. Finally getting to the back door in the guest kitchen, Marcos' older brother waited expectantly. Unfortunately, the guest house was Noah's territory until their mother felt inclined to kick him out. So, for the time being, when Marcos needed to go to the gym, he had to go through his brother first. Noah was amicable for the most part and usually chilled in the den smoking a bowl and streaming. "Luck."
Ripping another piece of pizza off, the clearly exhausted, hadn't slept in a couple days nineteen year old boy shook his head, knowing very well his brother didn't know how to relax and take it easy, "Give it time. I'm sure you'll have a blast and hey, say hi to QueenSamantha for me."
"What? No." Narrowing his eyes, Marcos watched his brother shut the glass door in his face and teasingly waved goodbye.
"Have fun at school, sweetie! Call me if you need anything, but really, don't. Peace!"
Pulling himself up, letting his chin rest over the bar, squeezing his glutes, Marcos went into another chin up, as Trixie did some burpees on the mat. When they finished their set, Marcos released the bar and cracked his neck, while Beatrix went to the center of the mat, waiting for her brother to evaluate her. "Okay, stances. Then we'll cool down and get out of here."
Since it wasn't the weekend, they wouldn't be doing extensive boxing techniques to build up his sister's strength and endurance. But, he'd still like to watch her, make sure she was prepared for anything. He couldn't always be there for her. As much as he wanted to protect her from harm, he knew it was unrealistic to know where she was 24/7. He didn't want to know what she did all the time, all he needed to know was that she could keep herself safe. Pretending to be her opponent, he unhurriedly asked, "Vulnerable places?"
With vigor, Trixie projected with her strong, powerful, don't-fuck-with-me-voice, "Eyes, nose, throat, and groin," and proceeded into a hammer strike, acting as if she had keys in her hand.
"If someone's coming at you from the front?" He took a step forward, leaning into her and coming for the attack. Without hesitation, she lifted her dominant leg, drove her hips forward, slightly leaned back, and pretended to put as much force into her kick to paralyze her opponent.
In this case, her brother. Even going the extra mile to yell, "Don't fucking touch me!"
Good.
Picking himself off the ground, he continued their routine and asked, "and if they're too close?"
"Well duh, I'm going to use my knee." Trixie grinned at her brother, deciding to go into the next move (the one after the knee stance) which was the heel palm strike. Since her brother was taller than her, by a lot, she went for the throat. After they did a few more self defense moves, they were finally on the last one. Holding her in a side head lock, he waited for her reaction. Quickly, and with the instinct of not being chocked, she pretended to strike her brother's groin with her furthest hand until she was given enough mobility to release herself from the grip and disengage.
Having lost track of time, their older brother, the only one that still resides here, with bed hair, plaid pajama pants, and a Zelda gamer tee on, shuffled upstairs with pizza in his hand and red eyes, "You two bitches need to get ready. Ma will flip her shit if she sees you home when she comes back with groceries."
"Uh... time?" With a raised eyebrow, Trixie reached for a towel and wiped her forehead.
Checking his smart watch (usually only wears while working out), Marcos heavily sighed and saw the time. They had twenty-five minutes to get ready before Richie would be outside honking his horn. Always punctual. Never late. They got caught up in their routine again. "... Richie and Liv will be here soon. Just hurry up, shower, and don't take forever doing your make up."
"Ugh! You got to be kidding me. Thank god I picked my outfit already!" The littlest Kingsley ran down the stairs past her other brother and hurriedly went to the main estate.
"You excited?" Noah obnoxiously chewed on the cold pizza, apathetically observing his catalog-model-looking brother, who was making his way to the stairs that Noah was now blocking. Trixie was small enough to squeeze through.
"Don't eat in here." Marcos waited at the top of the steps, impatiently waiting for his brother to lead the way or move. He was rewarded with an eyeroll, before Noah turned around and sluggishly strolled down the stairs.
Taking a bigger bite, he chewed in silence before scoffing, "You're fucking lucky, dude. I would've killed to go to a school that didn't give a fuck."
"Luck? Is that what we're calling this?"
"Yeah." Noah flatly stared. His dull eyes saying 'I said what I said'. After a moment or two of awkward silence, he gestured for Marcos to go in front of him when they reached the hall to the kitchen. Finally getting to the back door in the guest kitchen, Marcos' older brother waited expectantly. Unfortunately, the guest house was Noah's territory until their mother felt inclined to kick him out. So, for the time being, when Marcos needed to go to the gym, he had to go through his brother first. Noah was amicable for the most part and usually chilled in the den smoking a bowl and streaming. "Luck."
Ripping another piece of pizza off, the clearly exhausted, hadn't slept in a couple days nineteen year old boy shook his head, knowing very well his brother didn't know how to relax and take it easy, "Give it time. I'm sure you'll have a blast and hey, say hi to QueenSamantha for me."
"What? No." Narrowing his eyes, Marcos watched his brother shut the glass door in his face and teasingly waved goodbye.
"Have fun at school, sweetie! Call me if you need anything, but really, don't. Peace!"
"How do I look?" Trixie stood in the hallway in front of her bedroom door, holding the end of the navy floral long sleeve pleated midi dress, "Not too much, but nice and classy right? Would Miki like this?" Briefly, his eyes widened, surprised at the dress his sister chose. Mature. Sure, there was cleavage, but it was long and elegant. He didn't expect this. If anything, he expected her to go short. Honestly, his sister reminded him of their mother.
"You look beautiful, Trix." He admitted. Marcos, on the other hand, went for sportswear casual. His face spoke enough for him and his clothes would at least make him seem less pretentious than the family he came from. However, he did specifically request Richie to pick them up, so they could flex in his friend's ride (that's besides the point). "... are you comfortable, though?"
A playful grin fell on her face, as she giggled, "These heels aren't anything compared to what I've had to wear at daddy's dinners." Scanning her brother up and down, she tsked, "Only you could put minimal effort and still look good."
"Just because this looks like nothing doesn't mean I didn't put any thought in my choice. I'm not Noah."
"Yeah, yeah—" A loud honk could be heard outside and Trixie's mood swiftly shifted from humorous to uncontrollable excitement, "They're here! Do you think Aiden is here yet? Oh-em-g! I wonder what Liv is wearing... You got to take a picture of us for my Insta!" His sister let out a squeal of happiness.
Before she ran into her bedroom to get her bags (backpack, laptop bag), he commented, "You're taking this well."
Stopping herself from moving any forward, she turned on her heel to her brother and gave a genuine and loving smile, "Shit happens, whether we like it or not, but at least I have Liv, and you. Like mom says, there's never bad circumstances, only bad assumptions! You have Aiden and Richie and I'm sure you'll make more friends easy." Finding her way to her brother, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it, "Don't let anyone ruin your senior year, okay? You got this. You're a fucking Kingsley. You'll make this school year your bitch."
"Language."
"Oh hush, now get us some granola and lets go take some pictures!" She shooed her brother away and went back to her room to do final touches to her face (and grab her things).
His sister was right. Marcos hadn't taken the news of going from Liberty to Rosefell well. They had limited options in terms of schools and their father said that this would be good for them... for some reason. Having already researched and learned that the soccer team was nearly non-existent because of funding, and lack of interest, Marcos was going into this with a chip on his shoulder. He didn't even know if this was an endeavor worth pursuing, but it did kind of suck he couldn't play soccer his last year. Even so, Trixie was right. He needed to lighten up and enjoy himself. So what if this school will force them to acknowledge their privileged lives? So what if this is a change and he hated change? So what?
This would be good for him, it had to be.
Hooking his thumbs in his pant's pockets, he strode to the main estate's kitchen to get a quick breakfast for him and his sister (throwing it in a lunch bag and then putting it in his backpack), before exiting the door to make his way to his best friend. When Richie and him met eyes, Marcos gave an easygoing wave by the door, stepped down the stairs, and walked down the path. Shortly after, Trixie hurriedly came running out, locked the door, and scurried to catch up with her brother. Heels and all.
"Hey Richie!"
"You look beautiful, Trix." He admitted. Marcos, on the other hand, went for sportswear casual. His face spoke enough for him and his clothes would at least make him seem less pretentious than the family he came from. However, he did specifically request Richie to pick them up, so they could flex in his friend's ride (that's besides the point). "... are you comfortable, though?"
A playful grin fell on her face, as she giggled, "These heels aren't anything compared to what I've had to wear at daddy's dinners." Scanning her brother up and down, she tsked, "Only you could put minimal effort and still look good."
"Just because this looks like nothing doesn't mean I didn't put any thought in my choice. I'm not Noah."
"Yeah, yeah—" A loud honk could be heard outside and Trixie's mood swiftly shifted from humorous to uncontrollable excitement, "They're here! Do you think Aiden is here yet? Oh-em-g! I wonder what Liv is wearing... You got to take a picture of us for my Insta!" His sister let out a squeal of happiness.
Before she ran into her bedroom to get her bags (backpack, laptop bag), he commented, "You're taking this well."
Stopping herself from moving any forward, she turned on her heel to her brother and gave a genuine and loving smile, "Shit happens, whether we like it or not, but at least I have Liv, and you. Like mom says, there's never bad circumstances, only bad assumptions! You have Aiden and Richie and I'm sure you'll make more friends easy." Finding her way to her brother, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it, "Don't let anyone ruin your senior year, okay? You got this. You're a fucking Kingsley. You'll make this school year your bitch."
"Language."
"Oh hush, now get us some granola and lets go take some pictures!" She shooed her brother away and went back to her room to do final touches to her face (and grab her things).
His sister was right. Marcos hadn't taken the news of going from Liberty to Rosefell well. They had limited options in terms of schools and their father said that this would be good for them... for some reason. Having already researched and learned that the soccer team was nearly non-existent because of funding, and lack of interest, Marcos was going into this with a chip on his shoulder. He didn't even know if this was an endeavor worth pursuing, but it did kind of suck he couldn't play soccer his last year. Even so, Trixie was right. He needed to lighten up and enjoy himself. So what if this school will force them to acknowledge their privileged lives? So what if this is a change and he hated change? So what?
This would be good for him, it had to be.
Hooking his thumbs in his pant's pockets, he strode to the main estate's kitchen to get a quick breakfast for him and his sister (throwing it in a lunch bag and then putting it in his backpack), before exiting the door to make his way to his best friend. When Richie and him met eyes, Marcos gave an easygoing wave by the door, stepped down the stairs, and walked down the path. Shortly after, Trixie hurriedly came running out, locked the door, and scurried to catch up with her brother. Heels and all.
"Hey Richie!"
Grasping her hand tightly, Spike Langley eagerly followed the enticing Aramintah, who he has tried and tasted on numerous occasions. Gradually, he opened his eyes to take a peak, only for her to shout, "No peaking!" Grumbling to himself, he squeezed his eyes closed, waiting not-so-patiently.
What was taking so long? One moment they were going to get burgers, the next she decided to change plans and surprise him. This better be good or he was going to have some choice words with her. "Okay fucking shit, Minty. Are we there yet?"
"Calm your tits, yes. We're almost there."
What felt like a millennium, where he was drifting in and out of sleep, he realized her hand was no longer in his. Hesitantly, he called out, "...Minty?"
"Open your eyes."
Flying his eyes open, the sudden brightness blinding him, night turned into day (weird), and there she was, standing in a bouncy house at the center of the Rosefell football stadium. She was wearing her emerald lingerie that he liked so much and it was crystal clear what she wanted. The bass boomed in his chest at the sight of her biting her bottom lip, while she gingerly slipped one strap off.
"Well?" She beckoned him to come closer, running her dainty hand down her soft, petite body. At this point, the setting didn't matter to him. He ripped his shirt off and started running to her. As he struggled to take his pants off, someone dashed past him. Looking up from his zipper, his mouth dropped.
"Lucas?" The fuck was he doing here? Speeding up his run, forgetting about the pants, he charged to Minty. There was no way in hell he'd get there before him. After only a second or two, there again was another boy, "Back the fuck off Mason, she's mine!" And then at the same time, to his right, came flying in were his best friends Dee and Hunter, with their smug ass grins, both naked mind you (gross). "You gotta' be shitting me." Feet kissing the land, he shoved Hunter out of his way, with full force, straight into Dee and bolted down the path to the bouncy house like an Olympic champion.
Slipping in the bouncy house, he turned to zip it closed, seeing the zombie apocalypse of Minty's lovers chasing toward them, at full speed. Turning around, he growled—
"What the fuck, Minty!" With a sudden spasm, sweaty Spike found himself sitting up in his bed. He glaringly looked around him, only to realize it was just a dream. "Thank fucking Christ." Frustrated, he searched for his phone. After picking it up from under his pillow, he wiped his eyes with his left hand and checked his notifications with the other. Speaking of the devil... looks like she called.
After a moment of sluggish sleepiness, he saw the time, "SHIT!" Hopping out of bed, he sped around the trailer, "PAW-PAW WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP?!" Ripping off his boxers, he jumped in the shower for a five minute quick dip.
His grandfather poked his head in the small bathroom and laughed, "You looked like you were having a good time."
"Shut up, old man!" Spike aggressively scrubbed soap around his body.
"Hey, no shame, my dude. It's all natural." Before Charlie Langley closed the door, he instructed, "Packed you your weird eggo sandwich for breakfast. Don't forget it," and teased, "If you need me, I'll be on the lawn reading one of those magazines you hide under your bed." Letting a quick chuckle escape his lips, he casually asked his grandson, "Hey, Spike, you know they got porn on the internet, right?"
"Oh...my...god."
"Just busting your balls, sport. I'll see ya later. Remember to pick up eggs on your way home." With that, Charlie had left Spike alone in the bathroom to go about his business. Instead of a magazine, Grandpa Langley grabbed his guitar and went outside to sit at the picnic bench by the bird feeder hanging from his big tree. Staring into the empty fire pit not too far away, he started strumming The Ballad of Curtis Loew by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Embracing the fresh air and the new day, enjoying the solitude of his retired life, Charlie let the sweet refrain of the acoustic guitar speak to his soul. He had no time to be sad. He had a boy to raise. For his son and daughter-in-law, he would raise Spike in the only way he knew how, relaxed and with tender love, understanding, and humor.
Out of the steamy shower, Spike grabbed clothes from different areas of his messy bedroom and threw it on, "Melissa is going to kill me if I'm not there to greet those trust-fund, Pac Sun-looking, Rolex watch-wearing, my-daddy-owns-a-yacht mother fuckers." Once he was fully clothed, he grabbed his backpack, making sure his drafting Strathmore Bristol 300 sketchpad was in it. He usually transfers all his pages on 11x17 paper at night. This sketchpad was portable size, which was great for him jotting ideas down at school.
Afterwards Spike grabbed the brown bag and keys left on the kitchen counter by his Paw-Paw and rushed out, "See ya, old man! Don't party too hard without me." His grandfather softly smiled, nodded, and continued to vibe with his guitar.
What was taking so long? One moment they were going to get burgers, the next she decided to change plans and surprise him. This better be good or he was going to have some choice words with her. "Okay fucking shit, Minty. Are we there yet?"
"Calm your tits, yes. We're almost there."
What felt like a millennium, where he was drifting in and out of sleep, he realized her hand was no longer in his. Hesitantly, he called out, "...Minty?"
"Open your eyes."
Flying his eyes open, the sudden brightness blinding him, night turned into day (weird), and there she was, standing in a bouncy house at the center of the Rosefell football stadium. She was wearing her emerald lingerie that he liked so much and it was crystal clear what she wanted. The bass boomed in his chest at the sight of her biting her bottom lip, while she gingerly slipped one strap off.
"Well?" She beckoned him to come closer, running her dainty hand down her soft, petite body. At this point, the setting didn't matter to him. He ripped his shirt off and started running to her. As he struggled to take his pants off, someone dashed past him. Looking up from his zipper, his mouth dropped.
"Lucas?" The fuck was he doing here? Speeding up his run, forgetting about the pants, he charged to Minty. There was no way in hell he'd get there before him. After only a second or two, there again was another boy, "Back the fuck off Mason, she's mine!" And then at the same time, to his right, came flying in were his best friends Dee and Hunter, with their smug ass grins, both naked mind you (gross). "You gotta' be shitting me." Feet kissing the land, he shoved Hunter out of his way, with full force, straight into Dee and bolted down the path to the bouncy house like an Olympic champion.
Slipping in the bouncy house, he turned to zip it closed, seeing the zombie apocalypse of Minty's lovers chasing toward them, at full speed. Turning around, he growled—
"What the fuck, Minty!" With a sudden spasm, sweaty Spike found himself sitting up in his bed. He glaringly looked around him, only to realize it was just a dream. "Thank fucking Christ." Frustrated, he searched for his phone. After picking it up from under his pillow, he wiped his eyes with his left hand and checked his notifications with the other. Speaking of the devil... looks like she called.
After a moment of sluggish sleepiness, he saw the time, "SHIT!" Hopping out of bed, he sped around the trailer, "PAW-PAW WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP?!" Ripping off his boxers, he jumped in the shower for a five minute quick dip.
His grandfather poked his head in the small bathroom and laughed, "You looked like you were having a good time."
"Shut up, old man!" Spike aggressively scrubbed soap around his body.
"Hey, no shame, my dude. It's all natural." Before Charlie Langley closed the door, he instructed, "Packed you your weird eggo sandwich for breakfast. Don't forget it," and teased, "If you need me, I'll be on the lawn reading one of those magazines you hide under your bed." Letting a quick chuckle escape his lips, he casually asked his grandson, "Hey, Spike, you know they got porn on the internet, right?"
"Oh...my...god."
"Just busting your balls, sport. I'll see ya later. Remember to pick up eggs on your way home." With that, Charlie had left Spike alone in the bathroom to go about his business. Instead of a magazine, Grandpa Langley grabbed his guitar and went outside to sit at the picnic bench by the bird feeder hanging from his big tree. Staring into the empty fire pit not too far away, he started strumming The Ballad of Curtis Loew by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Embracing the fresh air and the new day, enjoying the solitude of his retired life, Charlie let the sweet refrain of the acoustic guitar speak to his soul. He had no time to be sad. He had a boy to raise. For his son and daughter-in-law, he would raise Spike in the only way he knew how, relaxed and with tender love, understanding, and humor.
Out of the steamy shower, Spike grabbed clothes from different areas of his messy bedroom and threw it on, "Melissa is going to kill me if I'm not there to greet those trust-fund, Pac Sun-looking, Rolex watch-wearing, my-daddy-owns-a-yacht mother fuckers." Once he was fully clothed, he grabbed his backpack, making sure his drafting Strathmore Bristol 300 sketchpad was in it. He usually transfers all his pages on 11x17 paper at night. This sketchpad was portable size, which was great for him jotting ideas down at school.
Afterwards Spike grabbed the brown bag and keys left on the kitchen counter by his Paw-Paw and rushed out, "See ya, old man! Don't party too hard without me." His grandfather softly smiled, nodded, and continued to vibe with his guitar.
Entering the school parking lot, with brown sugar milk tea for Minty and a bag of dollar store candy that the principal said he'd reimburse, Spike parked his grandfather's Dodge Charger close to the gym, so he could throw on the cheap mascot suit in the locker room. Searching for Minty, he was quick to notice instead a hot redhead staring up at the sky. He didn't recognize her, so she must be a Liberty girl. Rolling down his window, he honked his horn, "Nice tits, Red! Welcome to Rosefell!"
Melissa wasn't here yet. Surely he had time to kill before he had to put on the knight suit. Opening up the bag of lollipops, he grabbed a red heart one for the new girl and extended his arm out the car window, "Can I offer you a nice lollipop in this trying time?"
Melissa wasn't here yet. Surely he had time to kill before he had to put on the knight suit. Opening up the bag of lollipops, he grabbed a red heart one for the new girl and extended his arm out the car window, "Can I offer you a nice lollipop in this trying time?"
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