#anyways i love dio

[spungolden]

currently thinking abt dio and makeup and how she probably has one (1) singular lipstick color that isn't laced with straight poison

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[redclown19]

doodle dump. dibujar a jonathan sufriendo me hace sentir mejor.

[revacholian-girl-utena]

I guess you could say we believe it *because it’s impossible*.

Alt text: Frames from the finale of Revolutionary Girl Utena with overlaid text.

1: Prince Dios lounges on the ground, looking disinterested. Text reads: YOU — "They think their success is a given."

2: The same shot from another angle, showing Akio mirroring Dios as he looks on with a fruity drink nearby. Text reads: "Yes."

3: Anthy bites her knuckle, tears in her closed eyes, looking torn. Text reads: "Whereas we understand"

4: Utena lying crumpled on the ground as the million swords bear down on her. Text reads: "that we'll almost certainly fail,"

5: Utena and Anthy's outstretched hands touching. Utena's hand is visibly bloody. Text reads: "which is what allows us the chance to succeed." End alt text.

[starfrou]

⭐️ DIO’s Dummies ⭐️

[vivalu]

To me, Diomedes has the vibes of someone who doesn't listen to music which is very disturbing to people who can't do anything without music *cough* Sthenleus *cough*

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying the Dio doesn't have a favorite song. I believe in my heart of hearts he has one song that he listens to as a treat. The thing is idk which song but honestly I'm leaning towards sad love ballad

[signanothername]

Listen these two are either gonna get along really damn well or are gonna kill each other there’s no in between

[blackknight-100]

More Apollo fic excerpts for you all, because I'm on a roll:

Looking at Father is hard. Apollo has learnt this early on, but Apollo is also either incorrigibly foolish, or insurmountably stubborn. Either way, he tries and tries and tries; the truth is his, and he will look into the King's eyes while he gets it.

Lightning crackles around Zeus's lashes, fine white scars upon his dark skin. He sighs unhappily, and somewhere around Cretan Ida, rain-black clouds are blown away. "Why do you ask that, child?"

"Hekate thinks it is unjust."

"Did she say that to you?"

"No."

Apollo does not mention that she said that to his sister and his mother, because that was not what Father asked. He does not speak of her grief either - the King is a forge of hot power thrumming with ill-supressed rage, a rush of deadly cloudstrike and bitter ozone under his tongue - and Apollo is... apprehensive, if not afraid.

Zeus sighs again. The rain clouds return, and drought is averted. His beard droops, and the riot of spiked hair curls into itself. "It is fate," he says. "There had to be a safe place for you to be born."

"And fate is greater than justice, then?"

"You know the Fates. You know Fate is greater than everything."

Apollo says nothing. In the following silence, father and son stare at each other, picking away at the other's minds.

As always, Father breaks first. "I could not lose you," he says. "You are to be a great god."

Perhaps Apollo should be kinder, perhaps Apollo should be blind. But he is not. Here too the Fates are unfair - he can see Ares' quiet pain, he can see Hera's righteous rage. And his memory is terrible in its divinity - a hundred thousand words of fatherly love will not wipe away all those days of his mother's tears.

Or perhaps it is not fatherly love at all. Apollo is to be a great god, a mighty cog in the automaton that is Fate, and like Hephaestus, Zeus its builder cares little for who the cogs are, or where they come from. They must only exist.

Or perhaps it is just him - Apollo, the Destroyer. Under his hands is the ruin of a hundred women, and then some more, and Hekate is one notch among many others. Perhaps Apollo blames fruitlessly, for it is his father who chased his aunt, and his birth that holds her down. Perhaps his father loves them - him and Artemis and Mother Leto, and has only sought to turn fate in their favour through his ruthlessness. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. So many chances, so many answers.

Apollo looks at Father, and does not believe even one.

"I see," he says. "Thank you for your time, Your Majesty."

Zeus-King frowns. He holds out a hand as if to call out, then drops it and turns away. "You may leave," he says, and Apollo does.

[transmascutena]

thinking about how akio sees his younger self in utena and wondering if there's any fondness there. doesn't change the horror of what he does to her obviously but i do wonder

[flowercrowngods]

nice to meet you, where you been? (steddie tattoo shop au)

🌷 part 1 | part 2 (or read on ao3) | T – 12.3k – 3/3 🌷

part 3: fallingforyou (5k)

in which the boys finally have that date

Eddie doesn’t even make it home before his phone vibrates, revealing a new message from an unknown number. 

Unknown: hi i was a bit dumb and didn’t ask for your number but i figured you’d be cool if i take it from the form you filled out for the tat. hope that’s fine! 👀 

Steve: oh this is steve by the way

Eddie snorts and leans against the lamp post beside him. It’s a bit stupid, the way he just essentially drops everything to text a boy; but he’s always been like that, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna change that for Steve fucking Harrington! In fact, he has a feeling it might only get worse from here on out. 

Eddie: Aw and here I thought this was Brad. I even drew a little heart beside my phone number on the tattoo form :( Steve: pff please you’d never get a tattoo from someone named brad Steve: that’s not even a real name  Steve: people named brad aren’t real Eddie: Brad is ghosting me and you’re joking about it, Harrington, I cannot believe this 💔 Steve: i’ll make it up to you Steve: are you free on saturday? Eddie: Only if Brad doesn’t un-ghost me 😔 Steve: menace :D Eddie: I’m getting your tattoo removed as we speak!!! Eddie: !!!!!! Steve: :( Eddie: That’s what you get, Stevie. That’s what you wanna take on a date.

Eddie’s heart is hammering in his chest, the wide grin faltering a little when he realises what he just said. He called it a date. Is that right? Is that what Steve wants? Is that what they’re doing? There is a chance that Steve only wants to catch up, hang out as friends. Queer friends that can’t exactly stop smiling at each other, who occasionally get lost in each other’s eyes, who flirt, who…

Damn. He’s not objecting to a friendship with Steve. Hell, it would probably be one of the best things to happen to him right after his band and the soulmate-ism with Chrissy! But the thing is, he’d have a massive crush to get over first. 

There, he’s admitting it now. He has a crush on Steve Harrington like he’s never had a crush like this on anyone before, ever, in his whole entire life. Except once, in high school, for nearly two years. On Steve Harrington. Fucking dammit, he is so cliché. He’s leaning against a lamppost, grinning down at his phone, and everything! 

And Steve isn’t typing anymore. Eddie is kind of dying. How’d this man get this much power over him in the matter of, what, like a week? 

Eddie: Not too late to back out of that by the way Steve: are you kidding me?? Steve: bro i would take you on that date right now instead of waiting until saturday Steve: but alas

‘Alas’! The boy knows words! 

Eddie’s heart is doing a somersault in his chest — and if anyone asks, no, that’s not him giggling down at his phone out on the streets like a helpless little gay boy with his first real, butterflies kind of crush. 

Eddie: Oh damn, you're a real go-getter, aren't you, Steebie? Eddie: Wait Eddie: Did you just call me bro Eddie: DID YOU JUST CALL ME BRO STEVEN Eddie: B R O ?????? Eddie: Is that what we are 😔

Steve: drowning my phone as we speak 

Steve:if you need me no you don't

And if Eddie is cackling at that, laughing, blushing, hiding his face behind his curls, no, he is not. 

Giggling, blushing, and feeling so very alive, Eddie hits the call button and hopes that Steve didn’t actually drown his phone and went to leave the country. 

But luck, it turns out, favours him today, because Steve picks up on the first ring. 

“Hi, bro,” Eddie says, still laughing. On the other end of the line, Steve is groaning, but Eddie can hear something even better. “Oh my God, is that Nobody’s Perfect you’re listening to? From Hannah Montana?” 

“Picking up the phone was a mistake,” Steve sighs without any real heat, and Eddie just wants to go all the way back and watch him. Chin on his hands and all. Just watch Steve as he closes up, listening to ridiculous songs that make him call people bro as he’s flirting with them, and tell him how beautiful he looks in clothes that are not designed to make people look this perfect. 

“So what was that about taking me on a date right now?” Eddie asks instead of saying any of that, listening as the music gets quieter over the line. 

There’s a moment of silence and Eddie imagines Steve shrugging. He’s adorable even in Eddie’s head. He lives in there now. Rent free, just pretty and sassy and not at all bro-like. 

“Stevie?” 

“Uh. Yeah, that was, uh. Sorry.” 

“What for?” 

A huff, some shuffling, and Eddie yearns. He feels it in his hands, the way they’re tingling, aching to reach out, to hold, to keep. 

Steve sighs, then speaks. “Nothing, just a whole narrative of things that make me sound like the clingiest dude, so let’s pretend I didn’t say a thing?” 

Eddie smiles before he knows it, because Steve might be saying what he thinks he’s saying, and he’s being shy about it. Shy! Steve! Eddie never stood a chance. 

“You miss me already, Mister Kettle?” 

“Maybe.” And God. How is he so charismatic even when he’s shy and most probably blushing? Steve Harrington, force of nature specifically designed to wreck Eddie’s little heart and soul and universe. 

“Say the word and I’ll come back, Stevie,” Eddie says, and he finds that he means it. He doesn’t have plans, Chrissy isn’t home to tell him he’s not dreaming, and he has this ache, this tingling in his chest, his arms, his hands. This feeling that tells him he has to go hug Steve right this second and not let go for the next five to seven business decades. 

There’s a huff and the ache only gets stronger. 

“In fact, Steeb-o, it’s actually testing every ounce of strength this mind and body possess not to jump back into the subway and make my way over to you. So, like. Say the word. I think I might literally be begging you to go ahead and say the word, give me an excuse to be annoying and clingy.” 

Steve chuckles and he sounds both relieved and stricken, and Eddie wants to know. He wants to know what’s happening inside that pretty little head. He needs to know what Steve thinks, what he wants, what he sees, what his world is like. 

This is crush of his is moving incredibly fast. And still it’s far from enough for Eddie, and he knows that’s kinda not good, not healthy, a bit dangerous possibly. But it seems to be the same for Steve. Like maybe they’re bad influences for each other. 

Like catalysts for destruction. But how would the boy who shines like gold in the sunlight destroy him? The boy who listens to Nobody’s Perfect when he’s cleaning and closing up, the boy who tapes up his shirt sleeve so Eddie won’t have to take off his shirt, the boy who has a whole binder of weird-ass tattoos and the softest touch, the quickest mouth, the sharpest tongue, meeting Eddie’s banter head-on like it’s all they’ve been doing since taking their first breath of shared air. 

It’s not destruction that’s happening. It’s something much, much more terrifying. It has Eddie’s heart beating in his throat all the same. 

“Let me take you on a real date,” Steve says then. “When I didn’t have a long day at work. When I won’t say stupid shit. Okay, Eddie?” 

The yearning doesn’t stop, not when Steve says his name like that, in that smiling way he has. Part of him wants to object, wants to insist to turn around and spend more time with Steve. He wants to kick himself, wants to apologise for just running out of the shop like that. If he hadn’t, maybe they could go on that date now. 

But Steve’s exhausted, and he deserves better than Eddie being actually clingy and annoying about this. Boundaries. No matter how tingly his arms are. 

“Of course,” is what he says. “Sorry.” 

“Not at all,” Steve hurries, that casualness back in his voice that makes Eddie want to go eat a tree. “I think I started that, anyway.” 

“Yeah, when you called me bro,” Eddie adds, snickering. 

Steve groans again. “I hate you.” 

“And for good reason, too, bro.” 

“I’m hanging up on you, Edwin.” 

“Can’t believe you continuously hate-crime me, Steve Rogers.” 

“Captain America? You won’t hear me complaining.” 

Eddie snorts. “You’re so easy, man.” 

“Goodbye, Eddie,” Steve laughs, and Eddie wants to soak it up. Live inside that laugh. 

“Bye, Stevie.”

And then the line goes dead, and Eddie finds himself still leaning against the lamppost, stupid grin on his face, face half hidden behind his hair. There is that nice sting of a new tattoo on his arm, the late summer air is breezing through his jacket, and the upbeat Powerwolf song picks up where Eddie left it when Steve called. 

It’s a good day. A great day. A wonderful, perfect, absolutely breathtaking day. 

Eddie is a bundle of nerves and anxiety by the time Saturday rolls around. He’s spent more time in Chrissy’s bed than in his own and they went over the whole, What if he finds out I’m actually the most boring person on this planet? ordeal, which has gained him a pillow to the head and a big, big hug. He’s not complaining. 

But he also is decidedly not calm when he sees Steve rounding the corner. Not when he sees the guy breaking into a huge smile that puts even the sun to shame, and especially not when he spots the flowers in the guy’s hands. Flowers for him. Flowers that make his heart skip.

God, he’s so lame. 

“Hey,” Steve says, still smiling, except now Eddie can see he’s blushing. Blushing! 

Abort mission, abort mission! Eddie cannot do this. He is not cut out to dating pretty boys that blush and bring him flowers. 

“Hi,” he says, feet rooted to the ground as he feels his own blush rising to his cheeks. “Are those for me?” 

“No, actually they’re for Brad. I’m surprised to meet you here, this is kinda awkward now.” Steve’s looking around in a theatrical manner and Eddie hates him so much, he is so lame! 

Except now they’re both laughing and Eddie is pulling Steve into a tight, warm hug. It feels so intimate, the way Steve’s face is pressed against the crook of his neck, his arms tight around Eddie’s middle. And the little hum when Steve’s laughter subsides sends shivers down his back.

He was right, actually. Holding Steve is the best thing his arms could do, and he never wants to let go. 

“Hi,” he says again after a while, closing his eyes and smiling into Steve’s shoulder. 

“Hey.” 

This is going great. Neither of them seems in the mood to let go anytime soon. 

But then Steve takes a step back and holds out his flowers to Eddie. They’re dried flowers, the same he has in the little vases in his tattoo parlour, and they smell amazing. It’s ridiculously cute. Everything about Steve makes Eddie want to explode and scream and laugh and cry and take the deepest breath of his lifetime. 

“I would have given you fresh ones, but I feel like that would have been a bit sad if they can’t get water, and these ones will probably last you a bit longer, too. I hope that’s fine?”

It’s fine. It’s so, so fine. God, it’s so lame, but it’s so fine, and Eddie wants to scream again. Instead, he takes the flowers and goes in for another hug. Steve chuckles and breathes a tiny little sigh of relief that Eddie soaks right up. 

“Thank you, Stevie,” he murmurs. “I love them, actually. Very metal, to bring me dead flowers, actually.” 

At that, Steve sputters and shoves away from him, still laughing. “Yeah, I figured you’re weird enough to enjoy dead flowers more than dying ones.” 

“Touché, Steven. Touché.” 

“You're so weird,” Steve says and then nudges their shoulders together. “Now come on, mister tough guy metal man.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna have that be my actual title. Can I legally make you address me like that?”

Steve eyes him from the side and says, in the most serious tone, “I won’t say anything without my lawyer.” 

Eddie cackles at that, feeling elated and excited and just really fucking good. Steve makes him feel all those good things that people have been talking about forever, and it’s only just the first date. He’s helpless. Can’t stop looking at Steve, sneaking glances and hiding behind his hair when Steve meets them, looking so fucking fond that it makes Eddie want to run away again. 

It’s intense in a way that Eddie has never experienced. And they talk. Oh, but they talk. About everything and nothing, and it feels so natural. He learns more about Steve’s best friend Robin, he still doesn’t know the name of his little tattoo angel friend, and it turns out walking around town with Steve is an experience, because you can’t take the guy anywhere. 

Every five minutes there’s someone waving, excited to see him, or even just nodding as they pass them on the street. It kind of adds to his sunny disposition and makes Eddie feel like he’s stepped into a parallel universe, like he’s witnessing something primal to the human experience. Something like joy, like fascination, like the universal constant that is being drawn to Steve Harrington. 

And he’s staring, smile on his lips, when Steve notices. 

“What?” he asks, sounding a bit shy underneath that amusement as he pays for ice cream and hands Eddie his cone. 

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing to me, man.” 

Eddie eyes him. “Are we entering bro territory again, Harrington?” 

“Oh fuck you,” he laughs, and then the moment is over and Eddie could go back to his musings. He could. But he’s Eddie fucking Munson, and if there’s one thing he doesn’t have, it’s a filter. And chill. Okay, there are several things he doesn’t have, and all of them come out when he’s around Steve, apparently. 

“It’s just, you’re like the sun.” 

Steve stops in his tracks, looking at him. “I’m like the sun?” 

Eddie nods and comes to a stop a few steps ahead of Steve. “Pretty much.” 

“Uh. Care to elaborate?” 

“Well, first of all you’re wearing a yellow button-up, of all things, and that just screams sun at me, no take-backs,” he points out, and Steve looks down at himself, frowning a bit like he’s only just realised the colour of his shirt. Adorable. 

Eddie continues, before his brain catches up with whatever the fuck he’s doing, baring his thoughts like that on the first date. 

“Secondly, you’re kind. Like, you’re a genuinely nice guy. And I think the term sunny disposition was coined for you specifically. Actually, I have a friend in linguistics, I can ask her if there are any etymological… Anyway, uh.” Oh, there it is. His brain is back and he realises what he’s saying, notices the way Steve’s looking at him, his head cocked to the side, looking at him. Seeing him. Understanding what he’s saying. 

Eddie swallows and goes back to eating his ice cream, looking anywhere but at Steve. 

He almost misses it when Steve says, “You’re cute, Eddie Munson.” 

His head whips up when he hears that, staring at Steve and his stupid little smile, his shining eyes, the glazed look in them, like he’s seeing Eddie and the rest of the world for the first time. 

And Eddie, because he truly deserves the title of triple high school flunkee, says, “No, you.” 

Steve huffs and shakes his head, still with that smile on his lips as he approaches Eddie again, crossing that distance. Drawing Eddie in even though his feet are rooted to the floor again. He swallows as the blood rises to his cheeks, bringing with it a heat that only deepens his conviction that Steve is a fucking sun of his own. 

They’re so close, suddenly, that Eddie can smell the sweet lemon ice cream Steve got, and he holds his breath, petrified. He begins to understand why, throughout history, people have built religions around the sun. Why they have worshipped and created mythology around her, why people have been likened and pronounced representatives of the sun herself. 

He gets it when Steve leans in and brushes the sweetest kiss to his burning cheek. His hand lingers on Eddie’s jaw even as he pulls away. 

“Cute,” Steve says with a finality that a voice as raspy as his shouldn’t possess. But Eddie doesn’t dare argue, not when Steve is so close, not when he can see the blush on his cheek, not when he only needs to turn his head and their lips would touch. “And pretty. Thank you.” 

The fingers on his jaw are moving in the slightest caress once, twice, three times before Steve pulls back. 

And Eddie sways. Honest to god sways on his feet, and he tries to mask it by taking a step back and spinning around, but Steve’s light snicker tells him he’s been found out. 

It’s unfair, though, that Steve gets to have this charm. This confidence. The courage to just kiss his cheek when it takes Eddie everything to just act normal. Well, as normal as he gets. 

It’s unfair. And addictive. He hides his face in the flowers that smell so perfectly like spring and summer and freedom that it makes him positively giddy. Everything about today makes him giddy. 

Can it really be like this? Is this really for Eddie to soak up, is this for him to keep? This kind of happiness and joy never did seem to be reserved for him.

But then Steve asks if he can take his hand, and Eddie opens his heart to the moment and links their fingers, daring to look over and catch Steve’s smile before he ducks his head away. 

As far as first dates go, this is the best one Eddie’s had. They just walk a lot, which is perfect for his restlessness. This way he can run away from Steve and let the man laugh as he catches up, shaking his head with fondness. And Steve does. He follows him, he catches up, he gives chase, and suddenly they’re kids having a perfect summer day outside, their bellies full of ice cream. 

And it turns out, Steve Harrington is not just a pretty face, a kick-ass tattoo artist, an interesting mind and a sunny kind of smile. No, he’s also a person Eddie wants to genuinely spend time with. It’s almost too good to be true and it makes him want to hide. 

So he does. But not behind his hair, no. He presses his face into Steve’s collarbone, and instead of shoving him off or laughing awkwardly, Steve just wraps his arms around him and holds him. Tight. 

“Everything okay?” 

Eddie nods, holding Steve in return. “Yep, but if you’re gonna ask me any more questions, I’m gonna be real stupid here.” 

Steve hums. “Stupid like me saying I didn’t really want to wait until today and just see you again right away on Tuesday?” 

It makes his heart jump, because, yeah, something like that. Something exactly like that. 

“Uh-huh. It’s just…” He sighs and steps back to look at Steve. “I’m having a really wonderful day. And it feels sort of forbidden.” 

“Forbidden how?” 

“Like… God, this is gonna sound very, like, thirty steps ahead, probably. But you’re, like. Man. You’re kinda perfect, and I can’t really wrap my head around the fact that we’re on this date, and that you’re calling me cute and pretty. Because people don’t do that. Not to a trans guy, not to me. And I didn’t even know I wanted that, but, boy. Boy. I do. I really fucking do.” 

Steve is smiling by the end of it, and Eddie doesn’t quite understand. He should be running, should be looking at him with pity in his eyes, or that misplaced kind of understanding that’s really just nothing else but pity, just disguised with a dash of transphobia. 

“Why are you smiling?” he asks when he’s just about to explode. 

Steve shrugs, but that smile stays. “I like that you just… Say these things. That I can ask you what’s up and you’ll tell me. I don’t know, makes me feel like you trust me.” 

“I do.” 

That smile widens a fraction, and Steve takes his hand. “Well, let me return the favour, hm? I like being here with you. I’m having a really amazing time and I don’t want it to end. I didn’t want it to end on Tuesday either, I don’t know. It just… I don’t know, it feels right. And you are cute. And pretty. And funny, and just really great to spend time with. It feels like I get to be a version of myself with you that’s just, like, all of it, you know? It’s scary, of course it is, and makes me feel a bit stupid, too, but more than that it’s just really great. I’m sorry people are weird, but believe me when I say that, yes, you get to have cutesy dates, too. I’d take you on one, like, every week if you want.” 

“Every week, huh? What, do you have a crush on me, Harrington?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” 

And just like that, they’re laughing again. Relieved, happy, filling their little bubble with joy and sincerity and butterflies. 

Things are moving fast, but Eddie feels that if they went any slower, the world might actually end. 

They don’t kiss that day. 

In fact, it’s past midnight when Steve cradles Eddie’s cheeks outside the door to his apartment, looking at him like he hung the moon. Eddie’s not any better off, he feels. 

“Can I kiss you, Eddie?”

“I’ll bite you if you don’t.” 

Steve hums as he leans and brushes his lips against Eddie’s. It’s a good kiss. Oh, it’s a great kiss. It might just be the best kiss of his life when he feels Steve’s tongue against his lips, and he moans a little as he winds his arms around Steve’s neck, holding him there. Keeping him. 

They kiss lazily, perfectly, for so long that it leaves Eddie a bit dizzy. And when he breaks away to take a breath, Steve leans his forehead against his temple. 

“Goodnight, Eddie,” he whispers. “Thank you for today.” 

Words fail him, so he just nods before pulling Steve in again by the back of his neck, kissing him some more. Because how in the world could he not? 

“When can I see you again?” he asks, just to be a little pathetic. 

Steve moves the kisses from his lips to his nose, his cheek, his eyelids and up to his forehead, making Eddie glad there’s a locked door behind him. 

“Tomorrow sound good?��� 

“Tomorrow sounds perfect,” Eddie breathes. “Best fucking day of the week.” 

Steve laughs and presses one last chaste kiss to his lips. 

“For the record,” Essie says, pulling away from Steve, a bit breathless, “when you say tomorrow, you mean today, right?” 

And Steve pauses. Steps away from Eddie. “I can’t believe I like a guy who thinks the day is over at midnight.” 

Eddie would laugh at that, but… “You like me, huh?” 

“Very much. Thought that was obvious what with the kissing and the handholding and the whole speech thing we had going on earlier.” 

Eddie is too giddy to retort and he’s only mildly petrified when he actually giggles, darting forward for another kiss. “Goof. Goodnight, Stevie. Now leave before I do something stupid like inviting you in.” 

“Oh yeah, we wouldn’t wanna do that. You’d end up seeing all my tattoos and spontaneously combust. I can’t bear that kind of responsibility.” 

“Your— Steve!” But the man is already retreating, walking backwards to watch Eddie as he laughs, giving a silly little wave that has no business being so cute. “Get your ass back here,” Eddie hisses as loud as he dares, aware of the time and the fact that his neighbours will be asleep already. And that’s not even mentioning Chrissy. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.” 

“Will you show me your tats then?” 

“What? Sorry, I suddenly can’t hear you anymore, you’re so far away.” Asshole. Beautiful fucking asshole who kisses so good that Eddie’s still leaning against the door. He hates him. So much. They’re gonna have a spring wedding. 

Tomorrow finds Eddie outside of Steve’s door, fighting both nerves and a big smile as he knocks. Seconds later, the door sweeps open with a flourish and Steve is on the other side, smirking at him, looking so damn put together that Eddie falters a bit. 

“So rude of you to turn up your damn charm, Harrington.” 

“Only for you, Munson,” Steve says, taking Eddie’s hand and pulling him inside. “Only for you.” 

Eddie steps into his personal space and kicks the door shut gently. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m charmed. What’cha gonna do about it, big boy?” 

Steve hums, bringing his hands up to Eddie’s neck. “Think I’m gonna kiss it better, see if that helps.” 

And then he does. He pulls Eddie in, closing what little space was left between them and takes his breath away with a long, gentle, intimate kiss. 

“God,” Eddie breathes against his lips, his own hands landing in Steve’s hair, which earns him another hum. 

“Yup.” 

God, he’s so lame. 

“So,” Eddie says with one last kiss to Steve’s lips. And then another. And another. “Show me your tats?” 

Steve laughs and leads the way further into the apartment. It’s nothing like Eddie expected. Sure, it’s tidy and clean, because Steve just seems like the kind of guy who folds his laundry immediately and takes his dishes to the sink instead of letting them pile up or soak. But there are posters on the wall, there are little figurines and fairy lights lining the shelves, pictures of Steve and a girl that looks vaguely familiar. So many pictures actually, of Steve and the girl and other people, laughing and blurry at times, testaments of good times. 

They make Eddie smile a bit. Fucking sunny boy Steve, alright. 

Steve and Eddie end up talking for a while first, sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and some stupidly delicious cupcakes. 

“Robbie made those.” 

“Your roommate best friend? The one with the fear of needles or something?” 

“The one and only,” Steve laughs. “She has a little bakery down the street, actually. Used to stress bake half her life before she turned it into a business. The night before her finals in high school, she made three cakes and dour batches of, like, three different types of cookies. She aced her finals, of course.” 

“Of course,” Eddie grins, taking another bite of the cupcake. He’ll have to stay with Steve just to get his hands on more of these, damn. Chrissy is coming with him to get more tomorrow, he decides.

“I also told her you chose her favourite little angel and she wants to marry you now. Except, I reminded her that you’re a man and she, very respectfully, passes.” 

“Shame.” 

“Very. Guess now you’re stuck with me.” 

“Damn. The hardship,” Eddie sighs with all the drama lessons he ever had in his life, and it makes Steve chuckle as he takes his hand. They stare at each other for a moment or two, just soaking up the smell of coffee and their respective smiles. 

The moment ends when Steve raises his hand to his lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles before rising to his feet and tugging him along into his room. Eddie zones out for a bit just watching Steve move in his space, talking about something that Eddie doesn’t really comprehend because he’s busy staring as Steve takes of his shirt, and— 

Oh. 

They’re wings. 

Steve has wings. Four of them, and they’re like mandalas. Intricate little things, but when Eddie takes a closer look, trailing his hand along Steve’s warm skin, he can’t help but notice that the lines are a bit like smoke. They don’t seem to follow any pattern or direction, and up close, they don’t look like wings. Up close they look like disjointed, wonky lines. Like a freestyle tattoo, almost absentminded in its ink.

They’re beautiful, covering Steve’s whole back, mixing fine line patterns with stronger, thicker, almost aggressive lines. Eddie could stare for hours, tracing the abstract lines, trying to figure them out and giving up with the fondest fascination. 

And that’s how they find themselves in Steve’s bed, shirtless, Steve lying down on his front, his head placed comfortably on his folded arms. Eddie is straddling his legs, moving his hands up and down Steve’s back, which turns into a light massage and Steve purrs underneath his touch. 

There’s nothing sexual about this — and not just because they’re both sort of ace. It’s just tender. Trusting. Gentle. 

Steve’s shoulders, his chest the insides of his upper arms, they’re all covered in tattoos. All rather abstract versions of common motifs. There are monsters, too, and it’s like someone turned Lovecraftian storytelling into a tattoo machine and used Steve as a canvas. Eddie somehow has no doubt that Steve designed most of these together with Robin or that artist friend Will he mentioned yesterday.

He wants to ask, wants to understand, wants to know it all. But words don't belong in this moment, so Eddie keeps up the gentle motions of his hands. Soon, Steve is falling asleep under his hands and Eddie joins him after a while. They’re wrapped around each other, comfortable, without a care in the world. It’s rather perfect. 

And if you ask Eddie years down the line, he’ll say that this is the moment he knew he could very well fall in love with Steve Harrington. In fact, he’s already on his way there. 

---

okay whew, we are done? i think? maybe? there might be a buckingham part to this at some point, but if y'all have anything you wanna see in this verse, i'm open to being pestered very kindly and patently please i am quite literally on the verge of an anxiety attack rn)

thank you @ everyone who was even mildly enthusiastic about this little thing, you 12 people have my whole heart 🤍🌷🥹

tagging:  @inmoonywetrust @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @vampireinthesun @ajamlessbaby @momotonescreaming @zerokrox-blog @hotluncheddie @saganarojanaolt @eboyawstenn

[robyntherav3n]

thinking about this funky little lesbian

[dumvixerum]

Okay hear me out HEAR ME OUT

[slimslamflimflam]

IS THIS HOW THESE WORK DID I EVEN GET HALF OF THEM RIGHT I HAVENT BEEN HERE LONG GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

anyway jojo slander(?) because i wanted an excuse to use this specific song in pmd rescue team dx

[xiaomao-ai-wo]

CURSED REQUESTS FROM MY BOYFRIEND about to start a horrible tag apparently oh my god ;;;; I'm cackling though

https://youtube.com/clip/UgkxjIIR4NrFefvlukh1byNzToYL0w3hYBTv?si=mO52cnQC8CTrL-Qb

Literally clipped this with the title "buddy pic pls?"

[yutaan]

I can't believe I have to ask this with my own mouth and type this with my own two hands but.... will you ever drop the rita+dio heights 👀?!?!? Honestly I'm jk because they have that mechafiction thing going on so it's nice to leave it up to imagination but I'm just tickled pink the way you refer to him as tiny or 'comparatively' small. Rather than an actual height, is Dio small compared to the average person or just his super cool and adoring, amazing and loving tall gf Rita? From the mash up drawings I've seen, Dio is always the smallest person on the page :3 I love a confident little man in charge so I adore Dio and Rita and their dynamic <3 The caption about him being in distress because his gf was out of shot in distress had me cracking up lolol

Darlingest anon I cackled SO hard when I got this ask; thank you for being interested in my motorcycle kids!! And you are in luck: Even though I usually don’t get too fussed about how tall characters are, this is the one project I have where I did work out out everybody's heights. If you don't want to know exact answers, I'll just say that Dio is, in fact, Tiny specifically when compared to Rita. He's of pretty average height! Even a little taller than average! She's just QUITE tall.

And if you do want the exact measurements, Dio is 5'5 (and a half)! Rita is 6’3 in her bio body and 6’4 in her mechanical proxy body so next to her he simply looks like a bean rather than a beanpole. AND the rest of the main cast actually ALSO skews quite tall so he just… appears short most of the time. He doesn’t mind! It's rad! His girlfriend is tall and amazing and can lift him up with one arm and he is THRILLED about it.

Rita and Dio are in their late teens in the main part of the story, so it’s possible they both could still grow slightly? They’ve pretty much reached their full adult heights, though; it would be a very minor difference.

[minimechacowboy]

So uhhh call me dumb but…

Mondo holding up a sign in his splash art… is that a JoJo reference?

Cuz I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around why he would just he holding a big ass sign, he could be holding a bat, pickaxe literally anything else but no, a sign