#completely platonic here

[jesteringbug]

riddle is cater's no.1 fan BECAUSE I SAID SO !!!!!!!!!

[deep-sea-anemone]

Yes, yes, Sanji letting Zoro help in the kitchen by letting him chop vegetables because he's good with pointy objects.

BUT. Have you considered?

They live in a world without most electrical appliances. A FUCKTON of physical labor goes into baking (and keep in mind how often Sanji bakes treats for the girls).

Sanji being tired (physically) and not feeling like taking 10 min to whip whipped cream. Being tired (mentally) of Zoro making fun of him for never working out. Sanji saying "fuck it" and just starts putting him to work.

The foccacia dough needs to be kneaded? "Have fun working a sticky mess for 20 minutes, asshole"

Need meringue? "No, STIFF peaks marimo. Don't tell me you're wimping out already"

"Are you even TRYING to flatten that steak Marimo?"

"Yes, it needs whipped cream. YES, I know you just made some yesterday. We need more"

Zoro's shoulders are burning but he's trying SO HARD not to lose face with the cook and meanwhile Sanji is silently losing it at Zoro's shock that cooking can in fact be a workout

[mulderrrrrrr]

🛸 scene i finished of the totally platonic fbi partners who totally wouldn’t cross the universe for one another i mean there’s nothing in the bureau policy against that right????

[saturnniidae]

Shout out to Sweet tooth for having strong male-female friendships that end in tragedy but remain completely platonic as well as little to no romance throughout the entire show

[flowerplushie]

[formosusiniquis]

a smile for the in-laws at the holidays

written for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six-ber challenge - It’s just dinner. It can’t be that bad

WC: 5414 | T | No Archive Warnings Apply | platonic Stobin & pre-steddie | AO3

It starts with the red light on the Harrington answering machine. Blinky and out of place, he's shouting, “Who would leave you a message?” Before he even stops to wonder if anyone can hear him. Steve had followed Robin straight to the bathroom when they'd gotten back to his place, he's given up on trying to figure out just what had them joined at the brain, hip, and bladder preferring instead to just wait and see which of the hundred and fifty bathrooms in the McMansion they would re-emerge from.

“I talk to more than just you.” Steve’s voice echoes off the walls of the hall bathroom barely audible over the sound of running water and Robin’s half of the conversation the two of them were still actively having. 

Echolocated, he moves to the door they're hidden behind to continue to conversation at a volume that hurts his fucked up throat less.

“Jury's still out on that. But it's not like Wheeler is gonna leave a message.”

He can feel Robin’s spiritual hum of agreement, his conversation with Steve now interesting enough that she's paused hers.

“I keep telling you that Nancy and me are friends.”

His personal jury is playing a game of 12 Angry Men on that subject. Seven months post apocalypse and what started as one especially delusional voice insisting that there was “lip looking” and “chemistry between himself and the prettiest boy Hawkins has ever seen” has now become a beautifully hung 6 versus 6; with the part of him that was hoping he would get to learn if Steve Harrington was as beautifully hung as the rumors said gaining traction.

“If Nancy Wheeler needed you, she isn't leaving a message,” Robin picks up the track Eddie's wishful thinking abandoned, “she’s going to get your machine, hang up, and call me and then Eddie and then the Hendersons and then Family Video, the arcade, the-”

“Assuming it's life or death.”

“It's always life or death.”

Through the bathroom door, Steve's eyeroll is practically audible. “It is not.”

“I don't think Nancy Wheeler has ever once shot the shit, the breeze, or anything that wasn't an active threat on her life, so again not leaving a message.” Eddie calls out.

He's rewarded for his status as shit-head as the door swings open and he gets to see Steve's fondly annoyed face. Bitchy eyebrows raised and lip curled into something pretending it isn't a smile. He wipes his hands down Eddie's shirt in a failed attempt at returning the annoyance. First the backs then the front running down his chest from collarbone to chest.

Maybe it's his imagination but he could swear it lingers. The tips of his fingers taking their time on their pass down his chest to his sides. The jury will be accepting it as evidence.

“Dustin then,” Steve says.

“This is the Professor to the Hair, come in Hair.” Robin comes out of the bathroom mimicking the familiar sound of the walkie.

“Claudia then.”

“If it's Claudia, that means dinner.”

And that's the best thing about Robin, he thinks, her attention to the important details. Then there's her follow through, as she leads the charge back to the end table where the answering machine sits, all before Steve's hands have fully left his sides.

Her rewinding is unmatched, she takes the tape back to the final seconds of the outgoing message.

When it plays his first thought is honestly that Steve should probably replace the tape soon. The “Sorry I missed you,” has the warped and wobbling sound of an overplayed ribbon. But the woman speaking is not any more familiar as the tape levels out. “The lawyer recommended some time separated, I would have preferred actual separation. What's the point of this no-fault thing after all, but I suppose threatening to castrate a man at a public dinner doesn't make for a very good case for favorable asset division.

“Listen to me blabber on. I've got some things to see to here, but then I'll be on the first thing that gets me home. I’ll see you for Thanksgiving! I love you, Shadow, see you soon.”

There's enough detail there to pick out the obvious: he's now heard what Steve's mom sounds like. Which rattles his world the same kind of way learning that Freak lived with his grandma and her ‘best friend’ did.

And well maybe he has spent the last seven months, and a good five years before that, convinced that Steve doesn’t actually have parents. That he sprung into a fully formed, perfectly manicured existence like the Athena of Midwestern gay bait. Which is to say he’s too busy realigning his entire world view to notice how Steve is reacting to the sudden introduction of his mother until the door is already slamming shut behind him.

“Shit.”

The first time he sees Steve after that he’s alone.

It’s unnerving enough that he touches his back pocket to make sure his walkman is there. Steve might be smiling but it doesn’t meet his eyes, his hair flops at the awkward angle it does when he’s been tugging at it. It’s the Right Side Up Family Video, so he tries his best to approach the object of his possibly reciprocated affections like he’s a normal person and not like he's afraid that a secret pod person is behind the desk.

“Stevie, hey,” the probably Pod-Steve finches at the practically inside voice level way that Eddie has greeted him. He assumes that all further communication should be done in the same style he uses to talk to Tom Bombadil, the tray tabby he is going to coax into the trailer.

With both hands raised in a subtle non-threatening gesture, he tries for levity when he says “ I know it's Thanksgiving, but it’s just dinner. It can’t be that bad.”

“This is the first time she'll meet Robin.”

He says it in the easy way Eddie has learned is habitual for Steve. He tosses out facts like putting them out in the world like they aren’t a big deal will make it so. But unlike admitting he knows a teenager with psychic powers or that he helps reset Hawkins expiration date on a yearly basis, this time he can’t hide the quiet desperation in his eyes.

“Oh.” His rings tap on the clamshell box in his hands, the dull sounds of each contact annoying even him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s Robin.”

Normally he likes when Steve’s eyes linger on him. It makes his stomach flutter and his heart race, and it's the closest thing anyone will let him get to high now that he's technically died, twice. The vacant way Steve's eyes hold on his doesn't feel like that.

The thing is Eddie isn't sure if the jokes Dustin keeps making about Steve and Robin having their own little hive mind are actually jokes. It's sort of a reverse Clark Kent situation, he's never not seen the two of them in the same place at the same time, and now that he has Superman is looking pretty vincible.

“Exactly,” Steve says, after pausing for too long. “It's Robin.”

His improvisation fails him. It feels like his brain is moving a thousand miles an hour and not coming up with anything. His foot is on the gas but the road is wet, and his tires are spinning without catching on anything. He thinks maybe, maybe, he could bullshit something about good parents and families you make being just as important as the blood ones. When the bell above the door chimes saving him from fucking it up.

Steve straightens up like someone in the sky just yanked on his strings, smiling like he doesn't have a care in the world; and like Mrs. Johnson isn't glaring at Eddie like she has the Ronald Reagan given power to kill him with her eyes.

Eddie escapes before she can move to trying to bludgeon him with a copy of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly that she's returning.

He's safely in the van.When he realizes he's still holding the movie Wayne asked him to return.

He'll try again later.

Robin is behind the counter when he comes back. Alone. She looks adrift. Staring out over the counter at the wide expanse of shelves and tapes, she doesn't seem to be taking any of them in. Just staring, empty.

There's a movie playing, Back to the Future, but it's noise. Just noise. Because Robin is in Family Video right now the same way that Steve is.

Video in hand once again, Eddie approaches the wide-eyed thing at the counter cautiously. Robin's shirt collar is popped on one side and he doesn't think it's a fashion choice. Her face is bare and it doesn't move when he reaches the counter. Not when he sets the tape down. Not even when he says, hey.

“Did you rewind that?” She asks. Her eyebrows don't furrow, her mouth only moves enough to get the words out.

“It's Wayne's.”

Robin grabs it from the counter, scans it, and adds it to a stack that only looks taller than it did this afternoon.

“Look, Robin,” he tries more gently than he spoke to Steve this morning, still smarting from the way he had responded. “It's just dinner. It can't be that bad.”

She blinks once. Twice. Three, four quick times before she finally seems to be looking at him. A lemon pucker frown twisted across her face. 

“She knows we're married.”

Robin turned 18 three days after the end of the world didn't happen. She spent the day in the hospital, in a chair that sat in the space between his bed and the bed they ended up putting Steve in. He hears one doctor call it, “Miraculous, really,” that he had been standing at all this long after his injuries and with the infection that had set in.

He collapsed in the middle of the Hawkins High gym with someone's donated sweater tossed over his shoulder.

And they won't let Robin in the ambulance. Tears streaking down her face, voice hoarse, and the EMT who survived doing his job in a place like Hawkins has the balls of steel to look her in her red faced, dripping nose glory, and tell her only family can travel in the back of the bus.

Wayne Munson, who was only in the gym to put up more posters of Eddie when he was caught by a limping Dustin Henderson, is the softest touch on this side of the Ohio River. Wayne Munson found himself playing taxi, making a quick stop at the Buckley house before taking all of the loved ones that the ambulance left behind to Hawkins General.

Inside the backpack she forced Wayne to let her grab, is a change of clothes for both of them. A strange amalgamation of pieces from both of their closets and, more importantly, a blank marriage certificate waiting to be signed.

You can, it turns out, get just about anything with the right forms mimeographed from the library or a bright enough smile when you ask for them.

And what Robin got with the correct forms was getting to request a marriage license without anyone at the county clerk's office looking at her twice. And with the smile she gets the hospital notary ready to officiate their marriage once Wayne and a sour faced nurse agreed to be witnesses. Eddie only gets to watch, too shaky still to sign his name on the license, he chose privately to think of himself as the flower girl with some extra special buds he could give the happy couple once he could get out of here.

It wasn’t storybook, but Robin and Steve were smiling so wide that it made the stitches on the side of his own face hurt. He could tell from the set of Wayne’s shoulders that he was trying not to cry and if they had him on a little less morphine he might be on the same boat. He called for the first cheers to the happy couple and it didn’t feel weird at all that neither the Harringtons nor Buckleys were there to watch their two children get hitched.

Eddie is the only witness left when later that night the cot comes out and Robin and Steve Harrington-Buckley bed down separately for their hospital honeymoon. It's not like he wants to overhear their marital pillowtalk, but even though he knows he's supposed to be asleep it won't come.

It’s Robin’s voice he notices first, a rough whisper that soothes something in him. The words wash over him for a second before his brain catches up. “In two years,” she pauses, but even Eddie who barely knows them can tell that Steve is and always is riveted to whatever she is saying. “When we get out of this shithole, I'm gonna have an affair with the most beautiful woman you've ever seen.”

"Is that the feminism Glory Steinway is teaching people, women doing men's jobs?” Steve’s little giggle makes his heart monitor jump, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and hopes they think he’s just dreaming. “That would explain why my dad doesn't like her.”

“A Steinway is a piano. It's Gloria Steinem.”

“And you can try, but I've seen your taste,” Steve continues his part of the conversation like she hasn’t even spoken.

But Robin continues hers too. “And anyway, I don't know if that second part even applies anymore anyway, asshole. Not after that stuff we've been talking about.”

He’s not a good person, he knows that, that’s the only explanation for the way he was straining to hear like he could make his ear stretch across the floor toward them to hear better.

Steve blows a raspberry, surprising enough that Eddie flinches back in his bed. “I can't think about that if I can't sleep on my back.”

“That's not how it works,” Robin says with the confidence of someone who isn’t sure what she’s saying and lets Eddie be sure that he’s not going to learn anything else about whatever stuff they had been talking about.

“It is how it works. I've got to have my arm all funny to get comfortable enough to sleep.”

“Make sure I'm in here when Nurse Ratched comes to check on you and learns you dislocate your shoulder to sleep on your side.”

“I don't think that's Becky's last name, I think it's Collins.”

“Who cares. Now scoot over, one of us should get some sleep tonight and this cot is worse than Eddie's floor.”

He understood the bone deep instinct for protection Steve had now. The same drive that had Steve, still high on painkillers and a lack of sleep, stumbling out of the bed beside Eddie’s in the hospital. “They always say it’s gone, and then it comes back,” he’d whispered while clutching Eddie’s hand tight. 

Underneath the warning, he’d heard the want. The desire to take Robin and Eddie and the kids and everyone he cared about, to shove them all in the back of a car and drive as far away from Hawkins as he could. To stop them all from doing something stupid that shouldn’t be their responsibility anyway, to drive until Hawkins was a stain on a map that couldn’t be seen in the rearview mirror.

That’s how he feels right now.

It’s been three days and he hasn’t seen Steve and Robin in the same place at the same time. It feels like a sign he should have been looking for that this thing is coming back.

So he tries to think of his next steps as self-preservation. He has a certain reputation to uphold and going to the mall isn’t very counterculture. But Sam Goody is Sam Goody and getting his nearest and dearest their favorite tracks on cassette feels like the same kind of practical as the thick wool socks Wayne gave him last year. If he brought Steve and Robin then their presents wouldn’t be a surprise, is his reasoning And maybe that’s self-preservation too, it’s a long drive to Bloomington and it’s hard to imagine mirror-Steve and Robin being very fun to road trip with.

He’s talked himself around on it by the time he’s window shopping the Gap. Nancy is trying to organize a Christmas party from Boston with the single minded determination he would expect of a general arranging a siege. She had them pick names for Secret Santa while she was home for fall break and he’d drawn the short straw and ended up with the general herself. Which puts him outside The Gap, all he really knows about Nancy is her penchant for guns and a good sweater and he’d hate to get her a 9mm she’s already got.

The pastel colors are probably some kind of danger signal, but he’s already stepped inside and has his hands on a sweater he hopes says ‘I’m a badass and there’s a gun in my handbag don’t fuck with me’ in prep when he spots the danger.

The danger being Steve, alone still, with a dark plaid skirt pinched between his fingers.

He drops the sweater and slips back out the store, hoping he hasn’t been caught. He’ll find Wheeler a fancy pen or a nice notebook somewhere in Indy.

It's two days before Thanksgiving and when Eddie walks into Steve's place the first thing he hears is shouting.

Hand on the door knob, he pauses, listening as Robin's voice carries throughout the house. “I'm not wearing it.”

“Robin-”

“No, listen to me! I am not wearing that. I’m not gonna meet your mom looking like some, some-”

“Nancy.”

“You said that, not me.”

“Robin. Robin!” Footsteps, Eddie hears footsteps. Robin’s angry heels slamming down hard on the floors beneath her enough that he can track her movement through Steve’s house even though she’s only wearing her socks. He takes a step back toward the door. Puts his hand back on the door handle, ready to pretend that he had just walked in. Ready to pretend that he hadn’t heard the two most in-sync people in his life arguing like the Wheelers.

“Let me storm out! Let me leave. I can’t just stay here and argue with you until we both say something-” The knob twists in his hand to the sound of the desperation in Robin’s voice. Eddie’s feet don’t move, frozen in place by courage or cowardice or the seven years of high school engrained need to hear every last bit of gossip possible.

Steve has always been good at making good gossip. “Robin!”

“I’m not wearing that fucking thing just because you want to and can’t!”

He knows the sound of an argument ending when he hears it. The holidays always leave him a little more tuned in for the sounds of smashing glasses and raised voices.

The silence that comes after a landing hit. 

The door knob gives in his hand, pulling it just wide enough that he can feel the chill of the late November air, Eddie is a little surprised at what side of the door he finds himself on when he slams it shut again.

Footsteps moving faster toward him, heavy heel first steps. He starts putting on the production of arriving: shaking his shoulders like he’s shaking off the frosty chill of the early winter hitting Hawkins like the latest plague. He’s got a toe at the heel of one boot, ready to kick it off when Robin comes barreling toward him. Barrelling into him, he stumbles over his tangled up feet to keep them both from falling to the floor.

She’s got a hand pressed into his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, using it to drag him impossibly closer. He can smell the coffee on her breath when she hisses, “As one of the people responsible for saving your life, I need you to put me in that death trap you call a van and repay your debt.”

“I-?” Closer than he thinks he’s ever been to Robin, the fight he just overheard playing through his head once again, he tries to parse through the pissed off urgency in her voice that’s now being directed at him.

Her eyes are wild and she only looks more insistent as Steve’s voice carries from the kitchen. “Is that Eddie? Eddie, come in here and taste this.”

“If you have never trusted me before, trust me now, if you value your life you'll leave.”

There’s a part of his brain that believes her. There really is.

But then Steve whines, “Seriously, Eddie, I need you.” It’s a tone of voice Eddie has only heard in his wildest fantasies, and sometimes not even then.

“Oh that's a cheap trick,” Robin snaps.

“Please?” He drags the word out into a moan. Something sultry that Eddie wouldn’t dare dream of, so it has to be real.

“Cheap trick,” he pats Robin on the shoulder as he walks toward the vision he can only just begin to imagine in the kitchen. “Yeah sure, put them on.”

“This is for your own good.” For a band geek, she’s strong. Maybe it’s the world saving. 

Eddie has only managed a step toward what has to be everything he’s ever dreamed of when her hand closes tight around his arm and pulls him back toward the door. The jury in his head has just reached the unanimous decision that he does actually have a shot with Steve Harrington as he’s being lifted kicking, but not yet screaming, by a scrawny band nerd and now they’re calling for her head.

“Eddie?”

“I’m taking him with me. Maybe between the two of us we can get the right onions.”

“Who would use a sweet onion for a green bean casserole?”

He’s stunned, still enough that Robin can finish pushing him back out the door he just walked through. Not because Steve was being a bitch, Steve’s always kind of an ass, but that Robin wouldn’t respond. The ‘god you never listen to me and I’m actually mad about something else but this is the thing that’s broken me’ tone is one he associates with the bitterly married Mr. and Mrs. O’Leary from the trailer two down, the frowning couples in the grocery, not Steve and Robin.

Steve and Robin had full conversations in their brains with nothing but facial expressions and laughter, they didn’t storm out of the house angry and resentful. 

It feels like something is broken, waiting to be fixed. Broken things have always preoccupied him, and they’re halfway down the road before he realizes they aren’t headed toward town.

And that he isn’t the one driving.

“Um, Buckley? Did you get your license when I wasn’t looking?”

“I have my permit. We have the beamer, it's not like we’re going that far.” He grabs the oh shit bar as she rounds a corner without breaking.

“All due respect to the royal carriage- Shit, brake. Brake! Arwen doesn’t exactly handle the same.” He recognizes where they’re headed now, if only because the edge of the quarry is quickly approaching. Maybe he hasn't given enough weight to the amount of stress she’s under.

“It’s ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous.”The edge of the quarry is looming and her foot is too light on the brake. Even as the dust flies out behind the van, he’s torn between listening to her and watching the windshield. The brakes squeal as her foot finally presses down hard enough to actually stop the van all the while chanting. “It’s a dinner. A dinner. All this for a dinner.”

They stop. The car rocks back, Eddie lunges for the column to make sure it’s in park while Robin launches herself out of the cab.

He can see her pacing beside the van in the side view mirror, her mouth moving in a rant he can’t hear over the sound of his own panting breath. “Okay, this is okay,” the words leave his mouth but they might as well be coming from some third tag along in the van. “Robin is freaking out, so you can’t freak out.”

He scrambles into the back, knees smarting as he crawls across the blankets that aren’t doing enough to cushion the floor. Robin almost gets hit, when he tosses open the doors to usher her in.

“Climb in, we’ll partake in the time honored tradition of escaping from family, getting high, and bitching.” 

She doesn’t look convinced, hands shaking when he grabs ahold to help her get into the back. Eddie makes it a point not to look at her as she settles. She fusses, fidgeting with pillows and smoothing out the afghan that Steve picked out from the thrift store, and he holds any comment about how Steve had done the same thing the last time they hit the drive in mostly because he knows she was there for it. His time is better spent carefully rolling up a fresh joint, lighting it, and taking a big hit.

He still doesn’t know everything that happened to them before he got involved with the Upside Down. But he knows that the Harrington-Buckleys don’t handle being high well these days. But with the doors open, the ambiance, and the faint second hand smoke it isn't long before Robin is speaking.

“It was funny when he was showing me the best way to climb into a girl's window or scale a trellis.” She isn't looking at him while she speaks. Her eyes are locked on the toes of the new Chuck Taylors that she and Steve had lucked into at a thrift store in Seymour of all places. One blue and one red, they'd split the pair after decorating them. The two of them so in sync they even share a shoe size.

Still the words keep tumbling out, slow but gaining speed like a snowball rolling down a hill. “It was fun learning the best way to shotgun a beer and the flirty hand thing. And I liked, like, having someone who will gossip with me and we can paint our nails.” 

She stops, breath shuddering and it's worse, now that he's got the smell of weed around him but none of the haze, when she looks at him with red, watery eyes. “But now I'm gonna be the girl who isn't girl enough who ruined her perfect son and made him not boy enough and ruins their relationship forever. He loves his mom.”

“And he loves you, Rob.” There's no right amount of emphasis to put on the words. It feels like he’s repeating facts to a conspiracy theorist. DnD isn't devil worship. The Earth is round. Steve Harrington loves Robin Buckley, no matter what.

And just like spouting facts, he isn't met with a good reaction.

“I know,” she croaks, voice breaking as she holds back a sob. “I know and he knows better than anyone that loving someone isn’t enough to keep you from resenting them.”

It's miserable. He feels miserable. Robin looks miserable. And if there’s anything he hates more than injustice it’s misery.

“What can I do?”

 She sits up further, grabs the wrist that’s holding the forgotten joint, a look on her face that makes him think of the urgency of a quest. “I can’t be someone he ends up resenting in a year, in five.”

“What can I do, Robin?”

“Say you’ll come Thursday?”

That sounds like the worst idea in the world, Eddie Munson, former murder suspect, joining in at the Rockwellian dinner table. But he isn’t good at denying his friends much of anything these days. “Will it help? Me being there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But you’ll be there for me, for him, for us.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

Thanksgiving comes and Eddie’s hands are sweating around the wheel of the van as he sits in the Harrington driveway.

He hasn’t celebrated the holiday in earnest like this since he was little. When his own mom was still alive and they would load up in the pick up to drive to his Mammaw’s house where it would smell like roasted turkey and fresh baked bread. Now he and Wayne need the money too badly to skip out on the holiday pay. They would have turkey sandwiches for lunch before he would leave and Eddie would float around town selling to the teens who had slipped out their front doors for a “walk” before dinner so they could stand to be around their overbearing relatives.

Which leaves him in the position of trying to figure out his role here.

Is he the dirtbag that Steve has somehow managed to befriend, there to take the heat off of Robin and make her better by default? 

Is he the reformed killer that the two of them have fixed through the power of their goodness, there to make them both look like the power couple that they are? 

Is he there as their friend Eddie, there to be moral support in a stressful situation?

He isn’t sure and each different version of himself that he can imagine looks different. Each a different performance that requires different costuming.

It’s left him arriving late, wearing a hodgepodge of pieces that speak to each version. Stitched up jeans and a thrifted band shirt, overtop that one of Wayne’s cowboy shirts and he’ll kick off his trusty Reeboks at the door if he can get himself to go inside. He isn’t sure what anyone is going to think if he manages to make it in the door, but he can imagine what the neighbors are thinking right now.

Trudging up to the door, nerves prick at his fingertips but he doesn’t regret coming. Not even as he tries to anticipate the stuffy, frigid silence he’s about to walk into.

At least the food will be good, the stuff Steve made anyway.

Through the door he hears laughter.

When he knocks, it doesn’t stop.

And then he’s looking at Steve wearing that skirt from the Gap with his hair pinned back. “Eddie!” His eyes are wide, sparkling with a bright joy that Eddie hasn’t seen in days.

From down the hall voices, Robin’s he knows too well not to identify and the other’s can only be Mrs. Harrington, chorus, “Oh Eddie!” Before he hears the sounds of giggling laughter once again. Steve’s face flushes a beautiful, distracting pink.

“I should have brought something,” Eddie finds himself saying. Empty hands clenching even as his eyes are locked on those two moles on Steve’s cheek and how they stand out on that blush.

“You never have to bring anything, Ed.”

“Stevie! Quit hogging Eddie, we want to see him,” Robin’s voice has the slip sliding quality Eddie has come to associate with drinking.

“There’s still time to run, if you want to avoid everything,” Steve teases.

“You know I’m not a runner anymore, and anyway your missus invited me.”

“And nobody has ever accused Eddie Munson of being rude.”

“Got that right, baby.” Eddie can feel the smile on his face broaden as Steve rolls their eyes, a smile tugging at their lips, and that sweet pink kissing his face again. 

But when Steve’s hand runs down his wrist, a tentative touch reaching to tangle their fingers, the situation he’s in fully cements itself in his mind. Fingertips brush past one another as Steve keeps walking and Eddie stays put. He can hear Robin’s familiar cackle and a pleasant laugh that shares the same cadence as Steve’s coming from the kitchen. Warm brown eyes look him up and down, he tries to ignore that as he listens for whatever conversation is accompanying that laugh.

“She wants to meet you, y’know.” Steve says finally. “Hasn’t shut up about how my tastes have gotten better now that I’m back to my old self.”

“And she means me?”

“She means Robin,” he laughs, “but she’ll like you because I do. Because you haven’t said anything about this,” he flicks his hand down to his skirt. “Because you won’t say anything when you see she’s wearing the same outfit.’”

“Mama’s boy?”

“Something like that. C’mon, I need someone on my side in there.”

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie agrees, reaching out to grab Steve’s hand for real, “It’s just dinner. It can’t be that bad, right?”

[weepingtalecowboy]

Inspiriert by one of my other posts but a shadow and four version of this:

Because four's relationship somehow can look even worse than Ravio x Legend can ever be imagined as

Like four is the bad guy of the relationship if we use the same logic of creative explaining while completely changing the context and shadow is not that much better

Like four just straight up telling an abridged version of his relationship (both platonic and romantic can work because it is messed up beyond repair)

And not realizing that it sounds messed up from such a basic and underexplained perspective

Like he tried to kill his partner

But then he realized how naive he was he decided to manipulate him and gain his trust

Then he attacked him with a deadly weapon (when the four swords hit shadow)

Because he betrayed him and had no use for him anymore because he told him everything he wanted to know

Then his ex(friend but the chain doesn’t need to know) flipped out and tried to burn him in a messed up witch burning way

But he managed to save himself

While his ex attempted a murder suicide attempt (destroying the mirror was a literal murder suicide)

Killing another person alongside himself (Both Vaati and shadow died)

And that was the moment when four realized that he was a bad person and used dark magic to bring him back to life (violating several rules of nature and morality at once)

Then after a few years managed to bring his ex back

And tried everything to fix what he did by giving him absolutely anything he could want (including committing crime together and expensive gifts and literally anything shadow wants)

Then left him (linked universe happenes)

The chain is contemplating hitting him because that is definitely a disturbing situation that has no right happening but also he seems to regret everything he did and seems to try and fix it (but they will be at odds for a while)

When they finally appear at his Hyrule shadow accidentally makes everything worse by saying things like :

He doesn’t let me out the basement during the day

He killed my father figure (Vaati)

He is a wanted criminal who has enough bounty on his head to be executed for it

And that he is much happier now that he actually tries to make the relationship work better

[whineandcheese24]

just watched Batman vs. Superman for the first time and was filled with an intense and visceral rage at the complete bastardization of Superman's character and story. the first actual meeting of Batman and Superman made me so mad I had to pause the movie and just breathe for a second, so to heal myself, I'm going to share how I think the two should meet.

(be warned, it get's long)

This isn't with any particular iteration of Clarke and Bruce in mind, but think mid-twenties for both of them. Bruce is a CEO by day, a playboy socialite by night, and The Batman by later night. He's rich, attractive, and nice enough for people to like him/want to be around him, and he's perfected his social persona, but he's honestly kind of a loser. Think Bruce from Gotham but older (personality-wise, not necessarily backstory-wise). He doesn't really have any friends or anyone important in his life except for Alfred and maybe Dick.

Clark is an up-and-coming reporter for the Daily Planet, with a friendly and sunny, if slightly shy, disposition, and most people like being around him because of that. He does his best to appear non-threatening, and this can cause him to shrink in on himself sometimes. Think Clark from My Adventures With Superman, but a bit older and wiser, and a bit more experienced as both a superhero and a reporter. He very much has people in his life who he loves and who love him.

Now for how Bruce and Clark meet. Batman and Superman have both been around for a bit now, maybe a couple years at this point, but between having to save their respective cities, and needing to get their bearings as superheroes, and most people still being skeptical about the existence of Batman at all, they haven't met yet. Bruce knows of Superman, and despite Superman's good actions and behavior, Bruce doesn't trust him. He thinks that Superman is dangerous, not to a malicious hatred point, but he's wary. And he knows that if Superman wanted to, or if someone else was able to manipulate him or harness his powers, Superman could destroy the world.

He wants to confront Superman, but he knows that if he does it as Batman, Superman will be able to see under his mask and figure out his identity. So instead of approaching Superman as Batman, he decides to approach Clark as Bruce. He invites Clark to a charity fundraiser, ostensibly so Clark can cover the fundraiser for The Daily Planet. In the time leading up to their first meeting, Bruce thinks that Clark is probably a fraud who's only pretending to be a hero and he's actually a conceited attention-whore who loves power.

But then Bruce meets him, and he's just... He's so damn nice. Bruce doesn't have any friends, and here's this guy who's the epitome of sunshine and everyone around him loves him, and Bruce doesn't quite believe it's real. He asks about Clark's thoughts on Superman in a loaded and slightly hostile way. Clark's initial response is very defensive but then shifts to earnest as Clark explains that he thinks Superman is just a man trying to do his best with what he was given. and Bruce just, doesn't know what to do with that.

The two of them exchange numbers and hang out whenever they're in each other's respective cities, all the while talking about Superman and superheroes and vigilantes, with Clark learning more about Batman every time he's in Gotham. Clark disagrees with Batman's methods, but Bruce argues that maybe he's just doing his best with what he has. Bruce gets to know Clark's friends and family, and he himself even becomes more outgoing and friendly just by being around Clark. Clark learns to be more strategic and skeptical by being around Bruce and seeing the tragedies in Gotham.

When Clark learns of Bruce's alter ego, it's not because of x-ray vision during/after a fight, or suspicious snooping. It's because Bruce chooses to tell him. In this version, Batman and Superman never start out as enemies. They often clash over methods and opinions. Sometimes, Batman can be too dark for Clark, and Superman can be too optimistic for Bruce. They argue and debate, but they don't fight. Because here, they've always been friends. Their relationship is built on mutual respect and admiration for each other's strength from the very beginning.

I just really want a world where despite their misgivings, they never start off as enemies, antagonists, or even rivals, but instead, from the moment they meet, they're friends.

[bowser-ex]

eNVy will always be my #1 regular ship for MurderDrones, but my actual favorite ship for the series has to go to what I refer to as VNUzi(eNVy + Nuzi but without Vuzi) so I finally got around to making a render for it!

[spoondoodles]

I blacked out and more Logince HS AU appeared on my canvas idk what happened (also ty @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat for some inspiration sorry it took so long to make a post about Them <3)

[guckies]

You could really try to tell me which qsmp couple is the best at the whole sun and moon thing but everytime if it was not Fooligetta you would be wrong. Because it just is Foolish and Vegetta every time, no competition.

You’re telling me Mr Sun Bird at the top of the dragon tower Foolish with shining golden skin and an ability to make everyone smile is not the embodiment of the sun? Or that Mr Lobo Nocturno, night wolf that turns from human into wolf during the night all while having a passion for the colour purple and only shining so long as it’s lover shines too isn’t symbolic of the moon?

[asciuto]

all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin' 🐝

[nyxi-pixie]

fake ass queers you dont even WANT to rearrange the traditional understanding of relationships

[namixart]

Loner

Read on AO3!

(Minor spoilers for for two conversations in Rebirth. One is from a sidequest in Nibelheim, the other happens when the party goes back to Costa del Sol in chapter 12. Neither is particularly plot-relevant, but still. You've been warned.)

Nobody had taken it seriously. Ha-ha, Cloud’s a grump, he’s prickly, he’s a loner, ha-ha, moving on.

He frowned at the back of Tifa’s head. You seemed fine on your own.

He pressed his lips together and flexed his hand at his side, uncomfortable. He wasn’t... good at being the centre of attention, he wasn’t good with people. Didn’t mean he wanted to—

“You okay?”

Nobody had taken it seriously. Ha-ha, Cloud’s a grump, he’s prickly, he’s a loner, ha-ha, moving on.

Loner

It really shouldn’t have bothered him. Barret hadn’t meant anything by it, and everyone else had just had a good laugh and moved on. Now they were engrossed in a conversation about Johnny’s hotel and whether it was going to be a pile of ashes when they went to check on him, with Yuffie providing an uncanny impression of the guy for Cid and Cait Sith’s benefit.

He frowned at the back of Tifa’s head. You seemed fine on your own.

He pressed his lips together and flexed his hand at his side, uncomfortable. He wasn’t... good at being the centre of attention, he wasn’t good with people. Didn’t mean he wanted to—

“You okay?”

Cloud shook his head and blinked twice, then turned to Aerith, who’d slowed down to match his step as the rest of the group walked on ahead. “Hm?”

“Everything okay?” she asked, furrowing her brows. “You look upset.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Aerith hummed at his side, unconvinced. “Right.”

“Right.”

They walked in silence for a little bit. Cid’s bellowing laughter echoed throughout the streets of Costa del Sol, and Cloud was hit with an unreasonable wave of jealousy. Known them for five minutes and already he was fast friends with everyone. Not a loner, clearly.

“You really don’t look fine,” said Aerith. “You sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Sure,” said Cloud, keeping his gaze trained forward. “Don’t worry about me.”

He heard her sigh. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone, then,” she said, starting to speed up to catch up with the others.

It hit him like a slap. “Wait—no, I—” He fumbled to grab her by the wrist before she could get too far away. They both stopped.

Aerith turned to him with an expression halfway through surprise and concern. “Ah,” she said simply. “So there is something.”

Cloud grimaced and slowly let go of her. “I...” He couldn’t pretend now. He felt naked, vulnerable under her inquisitive look. 

Aerith cocked her head to the side, a silent question. 

Cloud opened his mouth to answer it, but then closed it again. It was so silly, so small, so childish. How was he going to explain to Aerith of all people that it bothered him that his friends thought he’d rather be alone than around them? Did they think he didn’t consider them friends at all?

“It’s stupid,” he muttered, letting his gaze fall to the side.

Aerith hummed. “That’s the way it is, sometimes. But if it’s bothering you, it’s not nothing. I wanna help.”

He bit his lip, still without meeting her eyes. She sighed again, and drew closer to him. She lightly took his arm and pulled him forwards a little. “Let’s go somewhere quiet, ‘kay?”

Cloud nodded slowly. “’Kay,” he replied. Then, he furrowed his brows. “The others—”

Aerith shrugged. “They’ll understand. Let’s go.”

He let her pull him through the streets of Costa del Sol, where even the shadows were warm. She seemed to know where they were going, and Cloud idly wondered how long she’d spent roaming the town their first time there. Eventually, they stopped in a small secluded plaza towards the outskirts of Costa del Sol, quiet and sunny. 

Aerith sat down on a bench and patted the marble next to her. “C’mon,” she said. 

Cloud wordlessly obliged. It was warm. They sat in the sun for a little bit, and Cloud closed his eyes to soak up the rays. He was going to be covered in freckles by the time the sun set, but it was nice.

The silence dragged on, fragile and tense. Eventually, Aerith was the one to break it.

“Is it Sephiroth?” she asked, quiet and hesitant. 

The name sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head. “No. It’s—It’s dumber than that. Way dumber.” He frowned.

Aerith hummed. “I’ll listen anyway.”

Cloud sighed. It was stupid, but... if he could tell anyone, it was her. “It’s... what Barret said earlier,” he finally pried from his lungs, fighting to push every word out. 

“What Barret... About your driving? Oh, Cloud, he—”

“No, no.” Cloud shook his head. “The... loner thing.”

He could feel her eyes on him for a long beat. He drummed his fingers on the bench beside him, trying to get the nervousness out.

“I’m... not sure I follow,” she said then, slowly.

Cloud winced. He’d been hoping that Aerith would understand without him having to spell it out. He felt his cheeks warm up a bit and cleared his throat. “Do you think... Do you think I enjoy being alone?” he asked quietly.

She let out a quiet gasp. “That’s what’s bothering you?” No surprise, judgement, or pity in her voice; just trying to make sure she understood.

Cloud nodded. 

Aerith hummed. “Right. Well, does anyone? Enjoy loneliness?”

Tifa seems to think so, he thought bitterly.

“Not me,” he said, frowning. “I didn’t know you guys...”

Aerith sighed and leaned back on her hands. “I don’t think that. And I don’t think the others literally think that, either. But... you do have a bad habit of pushing people away. Just look at earlier.” She gave him a pointed look and Cloud tried not to squirm too much. 

“I...” He bit his lip. “I’m... sorry. I told you it was dumb.”

She shook her head. “It’s not dumb. I’m glad you’re telling me. I just wanna help.” She scooted a little closer and bumped his shoulder with hers.

He nodded slowly and looked away. “I’m just... not good with people,” he said. “‘Specially when there’s lots of ‘em. But I’m trying. A-And I know I’m too quiet sometimes, but...”

“Hey.” Aerith gently took his hand in hers. “It’s okay.”

Cloud blinked twice. He hadn't realised his voice had gotten shaky. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t wanna be alone,” he murmured, hating the way he sounded like a petulant child. “I just... can’t be the way you guys are.”

Aerith gave his hand a squeeze. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be an extrovert to wanna be around people. But you might wanna start showing them you care more.”

Cloud shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she started, playing with his fingers, “let people in. And ask to be let in in turn.”

He stiffened. Close as they were, there was no way she wouldn’t notice. She giggled quietly and gave his hand another squeeze. “I know it’s scary.”

Cloud wanted to deny it so badly, but they both knew she was right. 

Asking people to let him in had only ever led to rejection before. Why would things be different now? Wasn’t it easier to save himself the trouble and stay out of their hair? It wasn’t like they’d miss him anyway. He was like driftwood floating in the sea: good to hang onto if needed, but forgotten about as soon as he was out of sight. 

The thought lodged itself uncomfortably in his chest. He pressed his lips together and didn't meet Aerith’s eyes.

He heard her sigh. “You know,” she started, still playing with his hand, “you’re kinda like a stray cat.”

Cloud turned to face her and blinked twice. “Huh?”

She giggled. “Yeah. One of those little guys who’re super skittish and hiss at you if you get too close. And they scratch, too, the little pests.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, frowning.

“There was this one stray back home in Midgar,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ��A cute tabby cat who used to hang out near the church when I was a kid. Mom always said to leave her alone, because she didn’t like people much.”

She had a soft, nostalgic smile on her face, and Cloud felt his own smile crawl on his face. “Guessing you didn’t listen.”

Aerith winked. “You know me so well. I just wanted to befriend the grumpy church cat! You can’t blame me.”

Cloud shook his head lightly and chuckled.

“Anyway, I kept going back day after day to try to feed her and get her to come out of her hidey-hole. Never, ever worked. She’d just hiss at me and scuttle off. But then... One day, I ran off to the church after some kids, well—” She cut herself off and waved a hand in the air. “You know.”

Cloud didn't know, but he could imagine. She’d said it before: she’d grown up with no friends. He could picture how other kids talked to her, and it wasn’t nice. She was still holding his hand, so he gave hers a light squeeze. 

Aerith shot him a half smile and continued, “Anyway, I went to the church to get away from them and have a nice long mope. And I guess that tabby heard me cry, because she came up to me and just crawled in my lap, purring like a truck engine!” She giggled. “It was enough to make me forget about those kids until my mom came to get me.”

Cloud hummed. She kicked her feet a little bit, knocking the heels of her boots together. “The cat stayed at the church, but she was just a bit less skittish after that. Never became super friendly, mind you, but she’d let me feed her and pet her every once in a while. She even let me help her deliver her kittens!”

He nodded slowly, fighting back a bemused smile. “And you’re saying... I’m like that?”

“Hm-mm! Exactly.” She grinned. “And if I could get that grumpy old cat to trust me, I sure as hell can get you to open up.”

Cloud laughed quietly and thought that they were sitting together in a secluded sunny plaza, holding hands and trading whispers and secrets. She was already there.

“Maybe,” he said nonetheless, as his smile faded a little. “But I think you’re the odd one out, there.”

Aerith shrugged. “I’ve always been the odd one out. But I promise you I’m not, this time.” She tightened her hold on his hand and leaned closer to him. “We love you,” she said matter-of-factly, smiling in a way that left him speechless and motionless, a way that left no doubt that she was being sincere and serious. “All of us. And we know you love us. You fall, we’ll catch you. You reach out, we’ll reach back.”

Cloud swallowed a thick knot in his throat, at once pinned in place and torn apart between the dark, potent fear she was lying to him and the burning and desperate desire to believe her. 

“So don’t push us away,” finished Aerith, gently poking his nose with her finger. “Because you’ll only hurt yourself as well.”

“I...” Cloud bit his lip and shook his head. “I...”

Her smile softened even more and she let go of his hand. But, instead of pulling away, she pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his middle and holding him close. “I don’t hug you nearly often enough,” she said. “Is it cool if I do it more? This is nice.”

“Sure,” breathed Cloud, tentatively returning the hug. It was nice. He let out a shaky exhale as she rubbed slow, soothing circles on his back.

She giggled. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, drawing closer. “You don’t have to be alone. Let us in. We're here.”

In spite of himself, Cloud nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured. He didn’t know if he fully believed her, but he wanted to so badly it stung. Wanted to believe he could reach out and not get his hand slapped away. But, then again... He had just reached out to Aerith. And she was still there. Hugging him and telling him he didn’t have to be alone after all. “Thank you,” he repeated.

Aerith hummed, but didn’t pull away. Cloud didn't know how long they stayed like that before it eventually dawned on him that she wasn't going to let go first. She’d be there as long as he needed her to and, as embarrassing as it was, he needed a little bit longer.

Finally, slowly, Cloud drew in a deep breath and hesitantly let go of her shoulders. Aerith let him, but took his hand again.

“Feeling better?” she asked with a small smile.

Cloud nodded. “Think so.” He gave her fingers a light squeeze. A silent thank you.

She giggled. “Anytime.” Of course she’d heard it anyway. “Anytime at all. I’ll be here.”

“I know,” he caught himself saying. And, incredibly, miraculously, he caught himself believing it.

Aerith beamed. “Great!" she exclaimed, standing up from their bench and pulling him up with her. “Say, how ‘bout we get started on your quest to prove to everyone you're not a loner?"

He warily raised his eyebrows. “…Listening.”

“Let’s all go out tonight,” she said. “Just to have fun.”

Cloud frowned. “But we gotta—”

“The Keystone can wait one night," she said, threading their fingers together. “This is important too.”

He considered it for a moment. 

Another loner. As if one wasn't enough.

You seemed fine on your own.

Let him be, leave him alone, he's gonna be fine, he doesn't care anyway.

Alone, alone, alone. Always been, always will be.

And that won't change if you don't do something about it.

Cloud nodded. “Alright. Think I saw a bowling alley on the main street.”

Aerith grinned. “Oh, I am so gonna wipe the floor with you all."

He smiled as well. “You're on. Let’s go get the others.”

As they walked out of the plaza and towards the hotel, Cloud couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Aerith squeezed his fingers again, as if her hand was the lifeline keeping him from drifting off into the ocean, to be discarded and forgotten about. But, with that tether securing him to land, he could learn to swim and make his way back on his own.

And his friends would be there, waiting for him.

He squeezed back. Yeah. That sounded nice.

[jackass-jones]

I’m not deep enough in the yttd fandom to really know if this is a controversial take to have but. I think soushin is interesting. I don’t think this in a “omg wow they’re soooo in love and I want them to be together” way, not at all lol. But I think to act like it’s impossible to see a romantic/sexual aspect of their relationship is really fucking stupid. I try to refrain from acting like there’s a solid truth to their relationship cuz the game isn’t finished yet so there’s always the likelihood that we’ll get more information later, but the thing that always gets me is when ai shin mentions that hiyori claimed to be an older student at his school but he later learned that wasn’t true. It sounds so eerily like a grooming story and the way we see human shin retreating into himself In reaction to that hits really hard, like he’s embarrassed it ever happened

Then there’s stuff like the detail that hiyori would always take pictures of shin without consent and would hang them up, or the fact that hiyori kept a personal shin ai for himself that he had control over, or the way that maple is supposed to parallel shin. It all just sounds like they had a relationship that blurred the lines a lot in a way that was very uncomfortable for shin. Moments like the shin ai sobbing and Hiyori saying “no don’t be like that show me your cool side shin!” and shin reacting to that, it’s like hiyori is trying to praise shin while hurting him. Seems way too much like a common occurrence

I think also (but maybe im just projecting) that shin is pretty queer coded in a lot of ways (hot springs scene, soft-natured personality that he tries to smother, his relationship with hiyori paralleling a romantic one, etc) and I think this plays into his relationship with hiyori a lot. Because of gender roles and toxic masculinity bullshit, i really doubt shins soft personality was allowed to fly under the radar for most people, so he was isolated a lot. Hiyori probably made him feel special at first with the way he seemed to like this about shin, but it becomes pretty clear that hiyori loves to fawn over shin and treat him like a cute baby and really only loves shins personality cuz he sees it as easy to take advantage of. I think it’s really easy to imagine a scenario where shin is a closeted teenager who finally has someone he feels he can confide in and hiyori blurs the lines between romantic and platonic a lot and shin latches onto this because he wants to feel like he can be loved by another boy and thinks this is his only shot. It’s way too common and all the pieces just fit right into place, you know? And I’m aware of the line where shin says hiyori is like an older brother to him but imo I think these two things can actually perfectly coexist cuz again, theres blurring of lines going on cuz this is an abusive relationship and feelings are being toyed with constantly

Basically all this to say, I very much think it’s likely that there was a romantic and sexual aspect to this relationship going on. I wouldn’t say they were labeling themselves as boyfriends or anything, more like it was a vague mess that hiyori refused to elaborate on. I don’t ship these two cuz I think it’s pretty clear shin wants out of this relationship, but I think inherently being mad someone wants to explore the idea of them having this kinda relationship is really ignorant and is only gonna result in only shallow ass takes about abusive relationships being allowed

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

Ignore all logistical considerations of "would they ever meet each other under these circumstances". If you don't think Jules Bashir would have chosen to join Starfleet, imagine he is on the station for some other reason, or they meet in some other location.

I wanted to make this poll because I've seen various fics where Garak reassures Julian that far from being upset over him being augmented, Garak is grateful for it, either explicitly because (he thinks) they wouldn't be able to have their usual conversations if it weren't for the augmentations, or simply because he likes Julian "just the way he is" and wouldn't want him to be "different". I disagree that Garak would think like this (or at the very least, I think Julian would react negatively if he did, rather than be reassured), so I wanted to hear everyone else's thoughts.