#it shouldn't bother me as much as it does

[azrielstaylorsversion]

Unspoken fights

Azriel x reader | angst / fluff

Feyre wonders why Azriel and his mate aren't speaking to each other. Rhys explains about there unusual communication habits and she feels the need to fix it.

There were still two empty seats around the dinner table. Everyone had started eating already, not wanting to wait another half hour for Azriel and Y/N.

It didn't take much longer before they came walking in. Feyre quickly noticed them walking a few feet apart from each other. At least not as close as they usually were with each other.

Y/N walked in front of Azriel, her face showing no sign of emotion. She walked straight for Cassian's seat instead of the two empty ones on the other side of the table.

Azriel sighed softly and took a seat in one of the empty seats, immediately filling his plate with food. He didn't even acknowledge his family.

"Move." Y/N ordered Cassian, leaving no room for any argument. To Feyre's surprise, Cassian listened and moved over to the seat next to Azriel, leaving Y/N to sit next to Mor.

Cassian turned to face Azriel. His mouth opened to say something, but Azriel cut him off before he even got the chance to. "Don't even start." he said to his brother, not bothering to look at him.

Feyre watched the mated couple with concern. They never acted like this. At least not to her knowledge.

Feyre reached for Rhys mentally. 'What is going on with them?'

Rhys also watched the two and sighed, shaking his head. 'Probably a disagreement. This never lasts long. They will make up and talk about it tonight and tomorrow it is as it never happened.'

Y/N had now started eating as well, ignoring Cassians pointed look for claiming his seat. Azriel on the other hand had stopped eating and was just staring at the wall with a grumpy face.

'Does this happen often?' Feyre questioned.

'Not really. Maybe once a year.' Rhys answered. 'They have their disagreements and differences, but they always talk about it immediately. They never let it get as far as... whatever this is.'

After dinner everyone went their own way. Except for Y/N, who decided to stay in the dinning room even when Azriel had left.

Feyre had seen Azriel glance at his mate for a moment, hesitating to walk towards her before he continued to walk out.

It was well past midnight when Feyre decided to get something to drink from the kitchen. She noticed the lights in the dining hall still being turned on.

Feyre poked her head inside, finding Y/N still in the same place she had last seen her. She was staring at the wall in front of her, an empty glass of wine on the table.

"Y/N?" Feyre said softly.

She almost jumped from the sound of her voice. "Oh, Feyre. Sorry I didn't see you there."

Feyre stood in the doorway. "Are you okay?" she asked her friend.

Y/N stayed silent for a short moment, her face filling with emotion. "Yes. Everything is okay."

Feyre could tell that the answer wasn't true.

"I actually wondered if I could stay here for the night?" she asked.

The question shocked Feyre a bit. As far as she knew, Y/N had never voluntarily slept away from home. Away from her mate.

"Yes, of course. But are you sure you don't want to go home?" she still decided to ask.

Y/N stood from her seat, making her way towards the door Feyre was standing.

"I'm sure. If you don't mind, I'll be going to my old room." she said, giving Feyre a tight mouthed smile and walking past her.

She obviously meant her and Az's old room. She always called it that.

Feyre decided to leave it for the night and return to her own mate, who was waiting for her upstairs.

The next morning Y/N ate breakfast with her, Rhys and Nyx. Her mood was definitely off.

She normally wasn't much of a talker, but now she was just quiet. She also looked extremely tired, as if she hadn't slept at all last night.

'Shouldn't they be back to normal by now?' Feyre asked Rhys mentally.

'Honestly, the fact that she even chose to sleep here last night does worry me.' Rhys told me.

Feyre debated saying something about it, but Rhys warned her before she had the chance. 'They'll be back to normal by tonight.' Rhys told her promising, even when he didn't sound so sure herself.

Y/N had disappeared during the day. Probably off to her normal duties.

Feyre felt surprised when she entered the River House in the afternoon and found Y/N sitting in the living room, with no sign of Azriel.

She greeted Feyre with a soft smile before sitting down on a chair by the fire.

"So did you do anything fun today?" she suddenly asked.

"I took a walk with Nyx and helped Rhys with work. Nothing more." Feyre asked with a smile. "What about you?" she asked with hesitation.

Y/N sighed, staying silent after. Then she just shrugged. "Not really. I just feel.. I don't know."

Feyre suddenly understood why she started a conversation. Y/N wanted distraction.

"It's okay to miss him. Even it's been a day." Feyre decided to tell her. Y/N just avoided her eyes at that.

She stayed silent for a good ten seconds.

"It's just so stupid." she said.

"What is stupid?" Feyre questioned.

"This whole pointless fight. I mean I started it. I got mad about something that wasn't even his fault. And I just wanted to be right so bad." she started speaking quickly. "And I made him feel so bad and I didn't even mean it like that. I just felt jealous. And now I ruined everything and-"

"Calm down a second. You're just spitting out your words at this point." Feyre chuckled. "Why were you jealous?"

Y/N stared into the crackling fire, hiding her face from Feyre. "A Fae woman stopped Azriel on our way to dinner to ask him something. She touched his arm." she told me. "And he immediately pulled away. He was just being polite by answering her. But I still got so mad and it was just stupid."

Feyre did understand her jealousy. She had experienced it with Rhys countless of times before.

"Even after being mated for decades I still sometimes get periods where my instincts are worse than normal. Just before we entered the River House I decided to ignore him. And just to prove a point I stayed away from him last night. But now I feel so guilty. And he's probably mad at me at this point." she sounded disappointed with herself.

Feyre moved over to her friend. "Of course he's not mad at you." Feyre told her reassuring. "It's Azriel. He loves you too much to be mad at you over this."

Y/N slowly moved her eyes to look at Feyre. She nodded to herself. "Yes. Yes, I hope so." she said. "But I haven't acted this childish in years. So I can understand if he were mad at me."

"Trust me, I would've had the same reaction as you." Feyre told her with a small laugh. "Why don't we ask Azriel to come here so you can explain it to him? I'll be here if you need me."

She nodded. "Yes. That'll probably be a good idea." she answered. "I'll see if I can get to him through the bond."

It didn't take very long before the front door of the River House opened and closed. The sound of it was soft, like someone who usually came in with no sound.

Azriel definitely let his presence be known by his footsteps, which were heavier than usual.

When Azriel entered the room, Y/N immediately stood from her seat.

"Az, I'm sor-"

"I'm so s-"

They both cut each other off.

Y/N stared at Azriel. "What do you need to be sorry for? It was me who did it." she took a step closer to her mate.

"Yes, but I still have to apologize for even letting that woman get close to me, I shouldn't have."

"No, you don't need to apologize for being kind towards a woman. I could see you pull away. And she only placed a hand on you. I am the one who should be sorry."

Azriel went quiet for a few seconds. Y/N stared at him with emotion in her eyes.

Who knew that the two of them had arguments like this. I was just sitting in a chair, watching them.

"This is so stupid." Azriel said.

A small smile formed on Y/N lips. "It is." she told him. "But I understand if you're mad at me."

"Of course I'm not mad at you. I did the same thing at the start of our relationship, remember? And that was before we were even mated. So I understand." he told her. "Come here." he opened his arms for her to walk in to.

I could hear Y/N whisper some things to her mate, but I soon felt like I was invading their privacy.

Azriel noticed my awkward look and smiled. He placed a hand on the small of Y/N's back. "Let's go home." he told her softly.

She nodded and let him lead her out of the room.

She threw a quick look over her shoulder, mouthing thank you to Feyre.

[mythomagically-delicious]

Billy Batson answering (as Captain Marvel) the question of why he doesn't join in for a drink with the group after being pressured for the 800th time, this time by Guy, who already pisses Billy off in general tho he tries to hide it.

"House number 5. I don't drink."

"what the hell does that mean?"

"foster home number 5. Got beat black and blue by the foster parents bc one of the other kids stole their liquor and they blamed it on me. Nasty alcoholics, the both of them. So I told myself, when I grow up, I won't touch the stuff."

Guy tries back pedaling, but one of the others has already slapped him upside the head for pushing the captain.

"I'm sorry you went thru that cap, I guess we shouldn't have been bothering you to drink so much"

Idk something along the lines of whether true or not, Billy decides to tell them something that'll make them regret pushing. Still kinda percolating in my brain

[lovely-p-issues]

Calypso put the new flowers in the vase.

It didn't matter how much water she poured in or how often she changed the plants - the flowers always wilted after a few hours and nothing of her magic could prevent that. She didn't understand that. Just like she didn't understand a lot of things that had happened since her Beloved had shown up on her island.

The late dinner was slowly cooling, the smell wafted throughout the house and the last wisps of steam were disappearing somewhere in the air. She was used to waiting for him. To waiting for him to turn up in her bed at night, for him to join her in the warm springs of the island and rest in her embrace, for him to give up those childish dreams of Ithaca and burn all those tools he was trying to hide from her.

She had waited so long. She could have waited a little longer.

‘Oh darling, this looks just amazing.’

It wasn't Odysseus' voice. Odysseus never sounded so cheerful.

She turned and clenched her fist, and the candles in the room flickered.

At the head of the table, where she usually seated Odysseus, sat a strange man.

No, not a man.

A god, smiling at her with his teeth bared. He sprawled comfortably in a chair, holding a chalice in his hand, Odysseus' chalice, into which she had not yet had time to pour wine. However, the intruder seemed not to mind as he took a sip from it without taking his eyes off her. In his other hand he held a strange staff, entwined with two snakes. He rotated it in his hand, as if slightly bored.

‘This place is not for you, Hermes,’ Calypso growled, and the candles went out completely.

She noticed with anger that the Lilies of the Valley, which only an hour ago had tempted her with their fragrance in the meadow, had begun to bow to the ground. The petals were covered in spots.

The Messenger of the Gods only laughed heartily. Something about that joy made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. He waved the Caduceus, and the candles lit up again, but this time with a rosy glow. She gritted her teeth.

‘So you remember me? I shouldn't be surprised, I can make an impression, after all I am-’

‘Uninvited. And unwelcome.’

‘Funny, I don't recall you being bothered by not being invited when the waves tossed a certain wanderer onto the shore.’

She turned.

‘I enjoy his company.’

She had work to do. She placed the pot over the hearth.

‘I don't doubt it, darling. Tell me, though, does he enjoy yours?’

The wind wailed and hit the shutters. Out of the corner of her eye, Calypso noticed that the petals of the buttercups had fallen on the table. She had to restrain herself from shouting.

‘He will learn to enjoy it. I have time, all the time in the world. His wife cannot say the same. Even his son will eventually turn to dust. And he will finally be able to move on.’

'Ah, so you put your trust in the workings of Chronos, the god of time. A touching method, mortals claim, but even they can tell the difference between it and a vain hope. How long has it been, darling? Seven years, if I count correctly?'

She slammed her hands on the table, glancing at him over her shoulder.

‘Oh, please, what is seven years?’

‘For us?’ waved the Caduceus between them. ‘Nothing. For them?’ he waved his hand towards the window. ‘It's a bit more complicated.’

‘Why do you care? Why couldn't you fly over my island without looking back, like you always do?’

‘For many reasons. If only for the fact that, as you know, I am the god of travellers. What kind of a patron would I be if I didn't make sure that such a determined man didn't make it home?’

‘He is home.’

Although Hermes took a compassionate tone, his face remained sullen.

‘A lie doesn't suit your eyes, darling.’

She clenched her fists and furrowed her forehead.

‘I won't let you-’

Hermes was no longer sitting behind the table. He was hovering over her, and his eyes, though hidden by the shadow of his helmet, glittered with rage.

‘You will let me speak, for as the Messenger of the Gods, I speak not only with my voice, but also with the voice of Zeus, the King on Olympus. You will let Odysseus go. You will end his torment. You will let him sail home. You will give him everything he needs for the journey. And then you will come back here and learn to live without him.’

Calypso didn't think she could still be afraid of anything after all these years. She took a step closer and raised her head so that their noses nearly touched.

‘He's going to die.’

Hermes tilted his head.

‘Let me worry about that, darling.’

His voice was cheerful again.

He moved away from her and began to play with the dried flowers.

She stood in silence, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would start to cry. Finally, she quieted the storm in her chest.

‘What if I convince him?’ she looked at the god, a challenge burning in her eyes. ‘What if he decides to stay?’

‘Then I will be more than impressed, darling, even as a god whose one of his myriad talents is deft eloquence.’

Hermes moved closer to her. In his hands he held a garland braided with petunias, monkshoods and yellow carnations. Fatal was a crown for the queen of Ogygia.

She had not brought those flowers. She took one last look past the set table and the cold food. The only flowers she had brought herself that had not fallen from their strength were yellow roses, the scent of which now made her choke.

Hermes adorned her head with a garland in the gentlest of motions.

‘Go on, Calypso. I shall watch.’

The wings rustled and Calypso was alone. Again.

___

I hope you enjoyed a little dangerous Hermes c:

[hbyrde36]

Midsummer Nights (AKA Summer Camp Fic)

WC: 3665 | R: Explicit (for eventual smut) | Ch 2/? | AO3

Ch 1 <-

Chapter 2

“You look like shit,” Robin said, sitting down across from Steve at their usual table in the dining hall, letting the tray she held slam down on the tabletop a little bit harder than necessary.

Steve winced, the loud sound making his head throb painfully. If he didn't know better he’d think he was hungover. “Thanks.”

“I know how much you value honesty.” She shrugged and pushed one end of the tray towards him so they could share, eating a few bites of egg before passing him the fork, trading it for a piece of buttered toast.

No wonder people thought they were a couple. 

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” he said between mouthfuls of the fluffy scramble. Camp food had never been this good when they were kids, but ever since Hopper found Alexei, mealtimes had actually become something to look forward to.

“First day jitters?” She asked.

“Yeah… and–uh, we had that late arrival?”

“Right, Hopper said. Oh no, did the guy come in all rude and loud in the middle of the night?”

“No, nothing like that. I was still awake anyway. He’s just so—” Steve heaved a sigh, the love-sick tone of it giving him away as easily as if he’d said the words aloud. He pushed his end of the tray aside, laying his head down on the sticky surface of the table. 

“Seriously, Steven?” Robin leaned in to hiss quietly. “Are you telling me you have a crush on this guy already?”

“You didn’t see him,” he whined.

“Neither did you!”

He raised back up with a huff. She just didn’t get it. “Sure it was dark, but I saw enough. Trust me. Long hair, tattoos, piercings.”

He’d seen a little not in the dark too. 

The second Steve woke up this morning his eyes had fallen once again on the other boy still fast asleep in his own bunk. Half his face was covered by the corner of his quilt, but the sunlight peeking in through the cabin’s small windows fell on the other half, shining on the darkest of dark brown curls, and revealing the long sweep of eyelashes resting on his cheeks. 

Robin swiveled in her seat, looking frantically around the hall. 

“Don’t bother, he’s not here yet,” Steve mumbled, miserably.

She pouted, digging back into their communal plate. 

“He plays guitar, Rob—guitar! Or, I assume he does since he brought one with him all the way from England.” Steve stared off into the middle distance, fantasizing about ringed hands flying across a fretboard. “Imagine what he can do with his fingers.”

Robin wrinkled her nose, frowning. “You have always been a slut for a British accent, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.”

Suddenly, the double doors at the center of the dining hall burst open, and whether he’d intended to make a spectacle of himself or not, there he was on full display. 

The boy.

The one Steve had fallen head over heels for without sharing so much as a hello, without the other boy even knowing Steve existed, with all attention on him while he slunk inside with bleary eyes, frowning as he made his way slowly to the food line.

Though it was late June and sweltering outside, the stranger wore a pair of long black jeans, their slightly oversized hems hanging loosely around a pair of black combat boots. His shirt at least was short sleeved, but also black and emblazoned with the fading name of some band Steve had never heard of. 

Drool pooled in Steve’s mouth.

Honestly the whole look was really doing it for him, he sort-of had a thing for alt guys, but the poor dude was going to melt in this heat if he kept dressing like that.

Steve was abruptly brought back down to earth as something small, wet, and a little bit squishy pinged him in the cheek. The blueberry projectile bounced off his face, landing smack in the middle of the remainder of their scrambled eggs.

He cut Robin, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty, a sidelong glare. “What was that for!” 

“You’re staring!” She whisper-shouted.

“Everyone is staring!”

“Not like they want to eat him! The rest of us are simply observing. Like watching a bear at the zoo… If that bear had his ears gauged and wore a wallet chain.”

Steve picked one of the small cartons of milk off their tray, sipping from it to stop himself from saying exactly what he’d like to do with that wallet chain. All the better to wind his hand around and reel his crush in for a kiss with, as far as he was concerned.

Robin looked back over her shoulder to take another peek at the dark-haired boy.

“And black nail polish.”

Steve snorted a laugh, a bit of milk dribbling out of his nose in the process.

Robin lost it, her cackling laughter mixing with his own to echo loudly through the metal building, drawing all eyes to them—including the object of Steve’s affection.

Shit.

The newcomer’s head whipped around in their direction, a scowl already painting his features as he and Steve locked eyes for a heart stopping moment.

Steve dropped the other boy’s gaze quickly and threw a hand over his own mouth, reaching across the table to swat Robin on the shoulder and get her to shut up too.

“What?” she asked, turning around and making an obvious show out of it. 

Steve wanted to crawl under the table and hide. He risked another glance and—yup! Mr. tall, dark, and hot-as-fuck was still staring daggers at the two of them. 

“Oof.” She spun back, grimacing.

Steve groaned. “He probably thinks we were laughing at him now.”

“Nah,” she waved a hand in an unconvincing show of casual confidence. “I bet that’s just his face.”

“Do you have any friends other than me?” Steve asked. 

Because sometimes… sometimes he wondered.

“No comment.”

As they finished their breakfast Steve kept his eyes firmly on his own table, afraid that if he tried to keep tabs on his new crush he’d get caught staring again. By the time he and Robin were done eating and he got up to deposit their last bits of food and the plastic flatware in the trash, he’d almost convinced himself that she was right. Not that the boy he liked always wore a perpetual look of irritation, but that his sour mood likely had nothing to do with them. 

It was hot out, it was early, and the guy had to be exhausted after a long day of travel and too little sleep.

Too distracted with his thoughts, Steve didn’t hear the footsteps or the jingle of chains approaching. He added the now empty tray to the pile to be washed, turning to head back to his table without looking and accidentally shoulder checked someone coming up behind him.

Hard.

“Oi!” The dark-haired boy cried out, stumbling back with flailing arms.

Steve reached out automatically to steady him, gripping his slender waist. “Sorry!” 

The boy made a face, shaking off the touch as he reared back. “Bellend,” he spat under his breath, walking away before Steve could say another word. 

Mortified, and surely red in the face, Steve shuffled back to his seat.

“Smooooth,” Robin said, drawing the word out.

“Shut up.”

She reached across the table to pat his hand, half comforting, half patronizing. “What did he say to you, anyway?”

“He called me a bell end?” Steve said, a little unsure. He’d heard a decent amount of slang from other countries before, but clearly not enough. “I don’t know what it means but I'm pretty sure it wasn’t good.”

“I think he–” Robin snapped her mouth shut, sealing her lips tight but laughter bubbled up in her throat and inevitably spilled out anyway. “Basically, he called you a dickhead.”

“Great,” Steve grunted, “even insulting me he sounded hot. I’m so pathetic.”

“What else is new?”

A sudden shrill, ear-piercing tone cut through the air, the feedback from Hopper’s ancient microphone threatening to burst all their eardrums as he switched it on, giving it three quick taps to test if it was working. 

“Good morning!” The older man bellowed, mouth too close to the mic, as usual.

There were a few quiet, half hearted returns of his sentiment from some of the older staff, while the rest only sat in silence. 

“I said… good morning!” Hopper tried again, obnoxiously. 

This time everyone, even Steve and Robin, gave an enthusiastic response, if only to move the announcement process along.

“That’s more like it. I want to take a moment to welcome all of you, new and returning staff alike, to the start of pre-camp 1999! As always, the owners and I are looking forward to making this summer even better than the last, and that starts with all of you. I’ve gone ahead and broken you into groups of two. When I call your name please see my wife, Joyce—” Hopper pointed down one end of the room, raising his voice as though it wasn’t already booming through the large speakers situated on either side of the hall. “Wave your hand, honey, so they can find you.”

The small woman—who’d been Steve’s surrogate mother every summer for as long as he could remember—stood, beaming as she raised her palm up high.

“She’ll give you and your partner your assignments for the day. Lunch will be grab and go, so just wander back in here whenever you feel like you need a break and remember to drink plenty of water!”

Steve and Robin shared a glance, letting out matching sighs of relief, sure that Hopper would pair them together.

However, the feeling was short-lived. 

After only a handful of other pairs were called, Hopper shouted, “Buckley! McNulty!”

Son of a bitch.

“Who’s that?” Steve asked, annoyed, watching an unfamiliar redhead a few tables away rise, wiggling her fingers in Robin’s direction before trotting over to where Joyce sat.

“That’s Vickie, she’s new,” Robin swallowed audibly, turning to him with wide eyes. “Oh my god, Steve, I can’t believe he’s doing this to us! She’s so pretty, how do I even talk to her?”

“Oh how the tables have turned,” Steve teased. “Karma! That's what you get for making fun of me all morning.”

No sooner had Robin got up and walked away, subtly giving him the finger behind her back, when Hopper called out the next two partners.

“Harrington! Munson!”

Unease crawled up Steve’s throat. 

Another unfamiliar name. With the smallest shred of hope he thought back to meeting Argyle the day before. Had he said his last name?

Steve didn’t think so, and one look around the room confirmed his fears. 

A head of thick, dark, wild curls was already making its way towards Joyce.

Great. 

Steve got up, rushing behind the other boy, catching up just as Joyce was rounding her table, standing on tip-toe to throw her arms around his shoulders.

“Oh honey, it’s so good to see you!” She pulled back, looking Steve up and down like a proud parent who’s just realized how much you’ve grown. “I’m sorry about separating you and Robin, but we thought it’d be better to pair new folks with those who were more familiar with the camp.” She stepped away, grinning as she looked between him and the other boy—Munson—who’d temporarily lost his scowl in favor of a polite, if tight-lipped, smile. 

“You and Mr. Munson here, are gonna take on the boathouse and waterfront area today.” Joyce went on after consulting her clipboard. “There's a checklist on the wall just inside the door of the building.”

Munson tipped his head in a nod before walking off towards the bathrooms.

Joyce met Steve’s eye with a raised brow. “He’s a quiet one.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed absently, still watching the other boy’s back move away with half an eye. 

“Good thing he’s got you,” Joyce said, with a wink. “I'm sure you’ll do your best to make him feel welcome.” 

After he finished helping to wipe down tables, Steve found Munson already out by the boathouse, easy enough for even a newbie to locate, being the only building near the lake and dock. He had his eyes closed, kicked back and lounging on an upturned canoe smoking a cigarette, face tilted up to the sun. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Like a scene from a music video, it was as if this guy was ripped right out of Steve’s dreams and made real. For once he was thankful for the heat. He could blame his sudden sweat and red cheeks on that.

In an effort not to startle Munson and have yet another embarrassing encounter before they’d even exchanged first names, Steve made sure to drag his feet a little through the dirt and stone as he got close.

When that elicited no reaction, he cleared his throat, stopping near the end of the canoe, casting a shadow over Munson’s spot.

The stunning figure pursed his plush lips, blowing out a long plume of smoke right in Steve’s face, and finally cracked one eye open, squinting up at him. 

“I–um, y-you can’t smoke on campus once the kids are here,” Steve stammered.

Oh god, why was that the first thing he said?

Munson rolled his eyes, sliding off the side of the boat to stand, pinching the end of his cigarette between his fingers to put it out before slipping it into his pocket. “Got it, boss.”

“Um, S-Steve? I-I mean, I'm Steve.”

Aaand, he continued to sound like an idiot. 

Awesome. 

Steve managed to resist the urge to smack himself in the forehead, but only just.

After a long pause the other boy raised a single pierced eyebrow. "Call me Eddie."

“Eddie.” Steve nodded dumbly as he slowly backed away. “There’s… checklist. I’ll just—” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the big roll up door that would open the boathouse, and finally managed to tear his eyes away from Eddie, turning to open it up.

The list of tasks was expected enough. Less expected was how much of a disaster he’d become.

Steve skimmed the paper over as he took it and the clipboard off the wall, taking a few deep, calming breaths before walking back out to face Eddie again, and promptly choked on his own air.

Eddie had pulled a small object from his pocket, and with a casual flick of his wrist, a blade appeared in his hand. He bent down, setting it against his inner thigh, carefully slicing through the thick denim all the way around. He tore the last few inches by hand before repeating the process on his other side. 

The reveal of long pale legs had Steve practically hyperventilating, a situation not helped in the slightest when Eddie proceeded to set the blade to his shirt sleeves next. 

Steve must have made a sound or something, because Eddie glanced up as he finished cutting his homemade tank top to go with his new shorts, finally noticing him standing there. 

Eddie’s lip curled in a sneer. “What you looking at?”

For a second Steve could only stand and stare openly, his brain completely offline. He’d already seen the ink decorating Eddie’s forearms—a swarm of bats and some creepy puppet guy—but now he could also see an unusual dragon on the boy’s upper arm, and with the sleeves of his shirt now cut out and wide, Steve got a peek of even more artwork on his chest.

“I-I w-wasn’t… I mean, y-you—you’re…” Steve sputtered as his brain booted back up slowly.  

“Whatever, mate,” Eddie said, pointing his pocket knife in Steve’s direction before flicking it closed and slipping it from sight. “And before you talk to me like I'm a bloody moron again, I know kids and knives don’t mix.”

“Right,” Steve nodded, running a hand over the back of his neck. He dropped his eyes back down to the list. Maybe if he focused on the task at hand, he could stop digging this fucking hole for himself.

First order of business was to drag the rest of the boats and kayaks outside, check them over for wear and tear and stack them on their racks. 

They moved around each other in silence, only interacting when they had to work together to move the two longest canoes. When that was done and it was time to place the chairs out to the sandy shore of the lake, Eddie was dripping sweat and obviously struggling, but seemingly refused to ask for or suggest a break.

Steve had them sort the lifejackets next instead, something they could do sitting in the shade with two ice cold bottles of water. 

More than once Steve opened his mouth to say something in conversation, anything to break the building, palpable tension, but each time he cringed, remembering how badly he flubbed things so far, and thought better of it. A wise move considering that every time he forgot to rein himself in, and accidentally stared at the other boy a little too long he’d earn a new dirty look.

They took a late lunch, only sitting down long enough to inhale a few sandwiches each before returning to work. 

Soon enough the day was nearing its end, and the only things left to do were take stock of the fishing equipment, and swim out from the dock to place the buoys and rope floats for the season, demarking the swimming area from the rest of the lake.

“My trunks are up at the cabin…” Eddie trailed off, the most words he’d spoken at once since they started. 

“I’ve got it,” Steve offered, shedding his cargo shorts to show his swimsuit hiding underneath. “I don’t mind, if you’d rather check the rods and tackle.”

Eddie looked away quickly, clearing his throat as he did an about-face. He waved a hand over his shoulder, which Steve took to mean he’d accepted the division of labor.

The lake was cool and refreshing after so long in the sun, and Steve felt his mood lift for the first time all day, even welcoming the tickle of pondweed on his feet while he treaded water, carefully tying the ropes out where they belonged. He took his time swimming back in, reveling in the feel of water gliding over his skin until he reached the doc where Eddie’s black-clad form was already waiting. 

Steve wondered how long the other boy had been watching him. 

They were done for the day, Eddie could have just left, but instead he leaned out over the edge, reaching a hand down to help Steve out of the water. Though the ladder was only feet away, he took it, the skin of his palm tingling at the contact.

“Thanks,” Steve breathed, lips parted.

The second he was safely on the dock Eddie let go, clenching his fist at his side as he spun and walked away without a word.

Steve watched his retreating figure make its way up the hill to the road that led to the cabins, and couldn’t help thinking, this was going to be one long summer. 

”He hates me,” Steve bemoaned, for the umpteenth time, while he and Robin stomped through the thick undergrowth, searching for the path that would lead them through the woods along the edge of camp property to the not-so-secret clearing where counselors got together to party after sundown. 

They’d find the spot one way or another. Steve could already see the flickering light of the bonfire in the distance and hear the sound of music drifting through the trees, tinny and staticky from the blown speakers of Jonathan’s old boombox.

“Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” Robin asked. “You said he pulled you out of the water, that doesn’t sound like someone who hates you.” 

Steve shook his head, not that she could see him in the dark. They’d have to remember to bring a flashlight next time.

“Maybe he’ll be here tonight,” she said. “You could offer him one of your disgusting lukewarm beers and bury the hatchet once and for all.”

Steve harrumphed, hugging the six pack of rattling bottles to his chest. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just another stupid crush that’ll go nowhere, anyway. Let’s face it, I'm destined to get my heart broken by straight boys for the rest of my life.”

Robin stifled a giggle.

“What now,” he groaned.

“You think Eddie… is straight?” She asked in a horrible, and frankly offensive, English accent. 

Steve could only hope she never did it in front of the boy in question. 

“You don’t?” He asked.

“He’s some flavor of gay, I'd put money on it,” She said emphatically. “Whether he actually knows that about himself yet or not? Remains to be seen.”

“How do you do tha—ow!” A sharp sting had Steve sucking air through his teeth, slapping at his neck to ward off mosquitos. “How do you read people like that?” 

“Well, in this case, uh… I have eyeballs?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn’t convinced she was right but he couldn’t deny that her assessment had awakened a small spark of hope in him. Even if she was wrong, or if Eddie just simply didn’t like him like that, it couldn't hurt to keep trying to make friends.

Right?

Unfortunately, when they finally entered the clearing and Steve took a look at the faces gathered around the fire, Eddie was nowhere to be found. He spent the next two hours sharing half a tree stump with Robin and getting drunk about it.

When he eventually stumbled back to his cabin for the night, he found Eddie still fully dressed, snoring loudly, face down and completely passed out on top of his covers. 

Adorable. 

Steve kicked off his shoes and followed suit, only pulling off his shirt before falling onto his own still made-up bunk. 

It was too warm for blankets anyway.

Thanks as always to the lovely @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson

[shittygothbitch]

>

[fillipquesender]

Hi i'm going on a huge rant I know I should do it on the tsams confession thing but I'd rather do it on my own blog

Absolutely no hate to the creators by the way, this is just stuff that ticks me off :3

Completely fine if you like the stuff I stated!

VA's if you somehow see this uhhhh please ignore this entire post

I want to rewrite ruin's character as a whole so hes just canonical eclipse

Sadly no jigsaw but at least it isn't whats happening on tsams

God i want to go on a huge rant about how much i despise whats happening with the lore to get it off my chest but i just know that some people will take ir the wrong way and assume I want it to change and I hate tsams as a whole

I don't hate it as a whole but i dp kind of wish to say this

It kind of feels like that after the ruin dlc released that what the creators had planned was changed from it- for one their reaction to canonical eclipse, which was them saying 'no' over him being nice- and the fact that ruin i think was originally supposed to be canon eclipse with how he acted after being 'cured'

Does it feel like they hate canon eclipse or at least dislike him? Yes, yes it does

Does it feel like the lore is rushed a bit now? Honetsly kinda

Is the excessive amount of angst overwhelming? For me at least, it is (hence why i've stopped watching and moved to laes)

Also it would be so refreshing if it didn't seem like this was the whoke "all eclipses are bad but solar" because i know thats not true

A character does not need to have a bad backstory to be rude or nice or whateverz but it feels like that way in tsams which ticks me off so much FOR INSTANCE, BASICALLY THE ENTIRE FAMILY

They could've turned out rude but didn't because THEY CHOSE NOT TO

I think i rememver ruin saying that solar was a rare eclipse but idk if thats bc hes nice or bc of the change but if its bc hes nice im gonna scream

Uhm uhm what else uuhhhhdhdhdhhe

Oh yeah the fact that ruin straight up doesn't give a shit about his actions it pisses me off

He watched his friends suffer for ages, and you'd think hed have some remorse because he wouldm't want that to happen to anyone else, but nope! Bro he seemingly didn't evej care when all the family was greiving

YOU'D THINK AFTER THE TIME HE'D SPEND WITH THEM HE'D CARE ECEN THE SLIGJTEST

SURE THEY'RE FROM DIFFERENT AUS BUT HE WAS AROUND THEM LONG ENOUGH TO AT LEAST CARE ABOUT WHAT HIS ACTIONS WOULD CAUSE

Dude i really do hope the VA's don't find this i feel bad enough making this post but i gotta let off some steam 😭 if they see it i'll just feel worse than before

[torchmlp]

So in my most recent playthrough of The Quarry, I noticed something in the freezer.

Why is there a random ass half-eaten jar of pickles, in the fucking freezer? Like, a fridge makes sense, but a freezer? Please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks that's weird.

[hunnyy-bunnyyy]

The phrase "I am the rock against which the surf crashes" is such a foreboding sentence, especially when it's used in an inspirational context.

The rock the surf is crashing against is deteriorating. It's loosing itself to the persistent might of the waves. It's not like a sand dune that'll reform somewhere else, the rock just becomes bits of sediment scattered amongst other bits of sediment. The rock's sediment is getting broken down and tossed around by the ocean's current.

How is that inspirational? The rock doesn't reform when it's broken. The rock is eroded into millions of tiny bits of itself that will go millennia without meeting again. The rock is constantly getting worn down until it disappears under the water's surface. The rock isn't getting better, it's perpetually getting worse.

Being the surf crashing against the rock is infinitely more inspirational. The surf is persistent. The surf is fluid. The surf may be weak one day, but it will get stronger. Parts of the water will evaporate, but it'll never lose its strength.

You are the surf, not the rock. You are strong and you will overcome all obstacles.

[iregreteverythingpleasehelpme]

nooo my younger brother is turning into a fortnite bro :(((((((((((( he played it for hours today after getting it hes so sweet and small i dont want him to be like the guys in my class who play till 3am and waste all their money on v bucks

[geddy-leesbian]

Trying so hard to not have a mental breakdown on main over something stupid

[shakebelton]

every morning i wake up and thank god i didn't even know what shevine was in 2019. i was already having a shitty year, i wouldn't have been able to handle the meltdown of everyone on twitter screaming how terrible blake was for some reason. and the reason of course was that blake chose gwen, which was also a fake pr relationship, over adam, who was apparently in love with him so much that he couldn't stay on the voice anymore. not anything normal like that perhaps adam was burned out for reasons completely unrelated to blake and didn't let blake know in advance that he was leaving.

so i guess what i'm saying is that fandom delusion is a hell of a thing and i've experienced it before and that shit is enough for a lifetime even if you go through it once, so happy "i found out about shevine only in late 2022" to me, all day every day.

anyway read my 2019 fix-it fic where adam does in fact talk to blake in advance about wanting to leave the show, because i'm once again thinking about it and feeling glad i wrote it.

[e3khatena]

The most irritating part of their cringe-ass Disney Y2K show advertisement gimmick is that their "1999"-era post options are very clearly inspired by Mid-2000s skeuomorphism than any semblance of the actual era's Internet. These are like buttons you'd see in Windows XP or Vista. This is what the iPhone 3GS looked like.

[7nsomnia]

I've realised that dc's cb is feeling like it's catering a lot to the male gaze and I think that's the biggest reason why I'm not really into it

[fourfuckinghorsemen]

We're out of peanut butter.

[lynxgirlpaws]

Was in the middle of scratching my own chin (as you do since no one is there to do it for me) when I. Y'know. Remembered the whole facial hair thing. And now I'm a bit less than pleased.

[cloudwhisper23]

That's very clearly something in the drafts folder, but sure. No drafts, apparently.