#fleece.starter

“ every year i have to throw the best part of my grilled cheese into the fire --- y’know,  the nice golden part ? --- and my heart just cries.  i hope hestia likes the buttery side as much as the rest of us. ”

of course he bumped into someone right when he returned to camp. maybe a camper on border patrol, maybe someone else who had snuck out past curfew. pulling the hood of his hoodie back, he greeted them with a nod. “i won’t tell if you won’t.”

Alexander hated losing things, and after spending a good half hour retracing his steps, that is the conclusion he unfortunately had to draw. He'd lost his violin. He still had his bow, but it was rather hard to play violin without, you know, the actual instrument. So, here he was, bow in his hand, having combed through the entirety of cabin 7 but still not having located his instrument. He stepped outside, checking the porch area and let out an exasperated scream. "Where in the name of the Gods is it?!" 

        there’s a disturbance in her chest, a rock situated heavily on her ribs, lungs webbed in barbed wire. it’s a feeling settled deep into her bones, pulling at her strings, and  POISONING  her mind. strange, to say the least, uncomfortable, to be vague, but altogether unsettling and dysphoric. she’s settled in the shadows of an old willow tree, fingers flicking her beaten up lighter on and off, eyes staring at the ground. with knees pulled up to her chest, she’s brought to reality when they slide down to sit beside her.   ❛  do you ever think that maybe i’m out here by myself because i want to be alone?  ❜

   benny stared at his palm, flexing his hand as he examined the scar that now ran from the center of his hand up along his forearm and stopped at his elbow. it was still fairly fresh- a byproduct of the three weeks long mission he had been on for apollo. “ huh. thought it would look more badass. “ he muttered, finally dropping his focus from the scar onto the person who had walked up to him. “ sorry, i zoned out. what’s up? “