#eg starter

More the pity.

He snipped the last suture closed, and sat back, offering up his patient a smile. “Until you learn to wield them with the proper respect, I must insist you stay away from the worryingly exhaustive collection of blades and power tools you have been provided with for this venture,” he teased. His eyes however, held no warmth. Hannibal held no great respect for weapons—they were, after all, only tools, and could only reflect the skill of the one who wielded them—but the flagrant disregard was irksome, to say the least. If there was going to be bloodshed, such precarious happenstance seemed wasteful. 

“So.  I’ve got to know.  How hard did Blaine have to beg for you to say yes to this?  He had to be the one to talk you into it.  Because knowing you said yes to this was one thing.  But seeing you actually show up?  My mind is still boggled beyond belief.”  The smell of burning wood was always one of Cedric’s favorite things.  Especially the campfire variety.  They’d been out here for hours now.  Watching the embers dance in red and orange lights towards the stars like fireflies twirling towards an explosion of twinkling diamonds in a blanket of black and dark, dark blue was relaxing him almost more than the box of wine they were splitting between the two of them.  

Relaxed back in a stack of blankets and pillows he lugged out here when he thought of the idea and settled on on his elbows with wool socks covering his toes aimed directly at the firepit, Cedric shifted his weight to his left and took another sip from his glass in the opposite hand.  Rosé of the Franzia variety from the primo year of 2015 (primo...right) in red solo cups and Cedric had an ear to ear grin knowing he was the reason why Sebastian Smythe was drinking like a pauper.  And he was loving every facial moment and noise from Sebastian the whole experience was getting him.  Why did he not bring his phone to capture this moment?  Next time.  Definitely.  

Should probably sit up.  Any more gloating and something bad was about to happen.  But he couldn’t help it!!  Who wouldn’t if they were witnessing this?  His feet slid closer as he curled himself up into a sitting position with a sigh of protest for moving from his comfy position just to use his bended knees as an armrest so his drink could be held comfortably in front of himself.  Something about lying prone after he popped that question said he might want to sit up at least a tad bit in case his own boot was thrown at him.  

“Anderson must have some kind of magic if he not only got you to commit to this but to stick to it.  Not sure he knew how remote it was though.”  His fingertips lifted to scratch against his temple along his hairline.  “Still.  As hard as this project is going to be?”  He turned his chin upwards only far enough that he could roll his attention back to the sky up above.  “You can’t tell me that’s not breathtaking.”

Billy’d been listening for, like, at least twenty seconds? Yeah, he doubted all of Colorado contained enough weed for him to be high enough for this shit. Something about task management and delegation teams... electing supervisors, what the actual fuck. These kids were taking this shit way too seriously. They weren’t getting fucking paid, for one, number two, there was no authority figure, and yet they wanted to elect one? Hell fucking no. 

Billy needed a joint, but he’d been ripping through his like a goddamn wildfire, and it wasn’t like he could send out for some on the next shopping list. 

Actually, not a terrible idea, honestly. 

A few chords in and Sam was singing quietly to himself. While Sebastian might joke about them sitting in front of a fire and belting out Kumbaya as ridiculous, the blond found it almost soothing. It was like he was back camping with the cub scouts or with his own family. He’d admit missing them already could count as ridiculous, but now he couldn’t see or hear from them at all whereas before he could at least check in via text or a quick phone call. He was absolutely the boy at college who did that on the regular. He faltered a little as he heard a twig snap behind him, standing up and brandishing his guitar as a weapon.

“Oh my god, dude, it’s just you,” he said with a sigh, seeing his fellow lacrosse player. “For a second I thought I was going to have to use Leela as a bat.” He slowly put his guitar down and sat back on the log in front of the fire, stroking the guitar’s side on instinct, the adoration he had for his instrument on full display. “Any requests?” Sam asked, smiling easily once he knew there wasn’t any danger.

“if i recall correctly, he’s got an army and i’m not too eager to meet them.” this was just the beginning, but kurt would happily go without finding out, but alas. “you’ve seen the movie, right?” he question, brow peaked high. “the great mouse detective? fall to his death, my ass. i don’t trust him.” any of them. which is why he was itching to turn back, but instead he moved forward, pulling the face mask up off his neck and over both his nose and mouth because the smell was already disgusting, he didn’t need to opening the door and essentially escorting everything to his lungs in an open invite to make him sick. especially not if there were mice or rats present, which there very clearly were.

There wasn’t enough Purel in the world to wash the filth of this place, and dry shampoo could only cut it for so long. So, while the others were still asleep ( a. because it wasn’t completely blazing hot in the early hours of morning and b. because she didn’t want to be near anyone else who wanted to take a shower ), she tiptoed with her pink flip flops to the camp showers to have some peace and quiet.

You know, as much peace and quiet as she could get in this disgusting, grime ridden hell hole of a shower. The water wasn’t hot. It wasn’t cold either. It was disgustingly lukewarm, enough to make Regina’s skin crawl as she scrubbed it down.

When she was done showering, she rung her blonde locks out and reached outside the curtain for her towel that she had hung on the hook. Nothing. It probably had just fallen, so she opened the curtain, and boom. No towel. No clothes. Nothing but the pink flip flops she had worn in the shower. 

Her heart started to race for a split second, mouth going dry. Seriously?! How old were these people?! She didn’t know how long she stood there, trying to think of a solution. She could bolt for her cabin and change without being noticed, surely. Or she could hopefully find a towel around here. 

Before she knew it, she heard voices outside. People were getting up. Shit. Maybe it was the culprit too.

She glanced up at the shower curtain and grimaced. It was stained with who knows what, but hey, it was her only option besides streaking. She tried to wipe the nastiness from her mind as she yanked it off the hooks, wrapping it around herself as a makeshift towel before she stormed outside.

“Okay, who’s the wise guy that decided to steal my clothes?!”

( in response to this beautiful wild card. )

          this whole experience was beyond ron’s wildest dreams. or at least, beyond what his summer would have been like if he’d been back home fighting with his siblings and being put to work tending his mother’s vegetable patch in the garden. in fact, the whole college experience had been the best thing he’d ever done. sure, he kind of hated his classes and had become rather amazing at looking like he was paying attention while he caught up on some sleep, but the rest of it was great. even now, with the humidity and heat climbing a little too high for his condition, as his mother put it considering they were a family at risk of being badly burnt, ron loved it. while he hadn’t made any solid friendships as of yet, he knew most people by face at least and could at least make some small talk which made the whole gathering around and swapping some drinks here and there, while roasting marshmallows or something so very american camp-esque, a little easier.

          hell, ron had been feeling somewhat merrier than usual after the couple of cups of beer and scavenging whatever snacks were floating around. it had been pretty good, really. he’d been a little more animated and open and friendly, although he couldn’t remember anyone’s name or face that he’d spent the evening talking to. in fact, at some point, the whole merry deal had turned into this weird somewhat merry but crushing feeling. his skin felt weirdly tight on his body and strangely itchy, he could hear his own shaky breathing as he realised it felt like someone was crushing him in some uncomfortable hug. everyone around had gone into this strange cinematic mode where they were moving all slow and staggered and their voices sounded like they were beyond some water pool.

          for some reason, ron’s eyes had been fixated on the treed beyond the clearing, his head tilting ever so slightly as little reflections of light caught his attention. at first, he was sure it was just some twinkling lights, probably from some of the girls setting up the most instagram perfect area. but then, as his eyes focused in on the lights, he realised that they were in some slow blinking, irregular pattern. almost as if they were eyes. a frown settled on his face as he pushed himself up off the mossy, dead and rotting log he’d been sat on and stumbled across the gathering towards the trees to get a better look. clearly the beer was messing with his eye sight. or maybe he should have gone to specsavers just like the twins had teased him with ever since he happened to misread one bloody sign.

Mr. Anderson. Ah yes, he was one of the ones having prodigious intercourse with the Smythe boy. While Hannibal commended their efforts, he found them crass. Intimacy was not borne in the volume of one’s ecstasy. Many other things were, perhaps, but not intimacy. It was a lesson Mr. Anderson would learn in time, sooner rather than later, hopefully. For now, he was willing to write it off as youthful vigor, but if it continued much longer, he’d have to come to the conclusion that Mr. Anderson was just as rude as his partner. 

Hannibal did not appreciate rudeness. 

“Mr. Anderson, what can I do for? I’ve been provided with a supply of prophylactics, which I am more than happy to provide for you and Mr. Smythe, if that is what you are seeking.” He cannot imagine another reason, in all honesty.  “I must insist on safety first, you understand.”