#ask the god of night

[the-god-of-night]

*Charm saunters into the room smiling as he looks around*

Oh night, darling are you here?

@god-of-charm-kollok

Night was walking around the room meowing loudly till he saw charm and hissed and scratched at his legs. He was very angry at him and ran away.

[shitpostingkats]

I'm sorry I'm still not over Riz taking the High Fantasy Equivalent Of Speed except no one remembers he weighs 25 pounds soaking wet so instead of Calming The Hell Down like we all know in our heart of hearts Riz would do if he actually took properly dosed stimulants he just sprints through all 9 phases of hyperfocus and ascends to neurodivergent godhood and starts solving mysteries you've never heard of and then becomes paranoid that someone's gonna take his memories so he goes up to a pirate and asks them to tattoo his red string conspiracy board on his flesh

[choccy-milky]

Pls I beg Clora wearing only Seb’s shirt

she just can't wear it if she plans on getting anything done😇

[the-kipsabian]

saw a take so fucking rancid on twitter i almost deleted the entire app from my phone jesus fucking christ

first of all ao3 is an archive site. this is like going to the library and saying "oh i dont like this" on every piece of media you find that you dislike and thinking they should be stamped with some sort of a marker just cause you didnt like it

you can always click back and leave. fic writers owe you nothing to explain themselves and their creations. if they have mistagged or miscategorized fics, then i understand, however there are report tools for that instead of yelling at the artist tbh

im not saying free works arent necessarily above criticism. but this is just. fucking wild. its common courtesy to just enjoy stuff (or fucking leave if you dont, the back button is free) and if the artist specifically asks for critiques, then give one - constructive that is, shitting all over someones work is not proper criticism, mind you

i just find it fucking wild people are treating art and archive sites as social media these days like this and everything needs to be policed and ~catered to the algorithm~ like. no. ao3 doesnt have an algorithm. you should be able to fucking tell what you like and what you dont like and steer away from that kind of content and let people fucking be with their art. they dont owe you anything (except trigger warnings i'd argue, but i know some people disagree with that as well for some reason), and imagine how much more energy you'd have if you only engaged with things you liked and spent time looking at instead of going to places where you dont enjoy yourself. let alone spending time telling other people you dont enjoy what they enjoy. what a fucking life

[toxifoxx]

*chanting* fat springtrap!! fat springtrap!!

as you wish! (^_−)☆

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: trauma / mind control / separation anxiety / autophobia / ]

Something that kills me is that there’s no way in hell that Raph’s debilitating separation anxiety isn’t infinitely worse after the movie. The trauma of being Krangified like that, all alone, would probably regress him so hard.

Not to mention his worries of getting “weird” would likely get mixed up with his experience while Krangified - aka, he loses full awareness, and when he’s brought “back” it’s to the understanding that he attacked his own family (of course not to his own fault at all, but how much of that does he believe?)

The fear of being alone would take on another layer and become a fear of himself.

[nanstar200]

Hi!! I’m back!! Ive been kinda obsessed w the DCA’s so I may or may not have a camera roll full of arts stored for later!

Brain rot thanks to @/shirajellyfish 💕

PLUS @eebie ‘s CREATURE!!

Also I was wondering if I should make a separate blog for specifically dca stuff? Or just post it all here? Not sure, but if you guys care that I post dca stuff here lmk!!

(ALSO HERES THE LINK TO @shirajellyfish ‘s AMAZING DCA FIC!!!! freaking amazing i can’t stop thinking about it UAGH ⬇️⬇️⬇️)

[rosedom]

lazily fingering neuvi until he squirts..... oh i know hed make the prettiest noises while he's lost in the waves of pleasure I bring to him, burying his face into the pillow, trying to muffle his sounds but I obviously deny him that solace; not to be mean, but because he sounds so beautiful when he moans and whines, and why would I ever dream of hiding it?

Gently praising him while continuously pressing on that spongy spot that makes him go absolutely boneless. He writhes, warning that something feels weird. I pay it no mind because his body betrays him with the way he desperately cants himself against my fingers, a strangled moan escaping him when he does finally let go, getting the bedsheets all messy. I'll have to wash that later, I think to myself. However, all thoughts are washed away when I see my pretty boy, all splayed out on the bed, exhausted yet elegant.

Featherlight kisses are pressed along his thighs and hips as a consolation, soft whines being pulled out of him because he's still so sensitive; oh, so sweet. The Iudex of the Court of Fontaine- no, not that. Positions and titles do not come to play in the bedroom, for he is just my beautiful neuvillette here, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

(I have lots of thoughts abt neuvi if u cant tell..... (ノ_＜) ）

-🕊️

OH MY GOD, SWEET DOVE (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ THIS WAS SO NNGNHHH pls pls pls keep having neuvillette thoughts . . .

i so adore the idea of your neuvillette—he's just neuvi, here with you and you alone. there's no silly titles or any of the burdens of his day-to-day, not when you're right there with him to smooth away the stress, be that your words or your soft touch—or maybe (definitely. most definitely) both.

mmmm you'd have to turn him over after he tries muffling himself in his fluffed-up pillows one too many times, pressing his back into the sheets as you're lying beside him, neuvi half-bundled up in your arms and halfway mixed up into the duvet. duvets always have a cover, too, so hopefully laundry will be easy for you . . . and besides, it'd be about time you put the waterproof label to good use, yeah? i just know our hydro dragon sovereign would be absolutely soaked between his thighs, even before he cums.

he'd be so embarrassed, falling prey to your gentle touches and letting himself be overwhelmed. it's all in the technique, babe, thrusting your fingers in slow n' deep and all lazy and soft. i like to imagine how hard it'd be to keep your thrusts gentle when he bucks and jerks in your grip; but i also think he'd simply melt back once he succumbs to the pleasure of the orgasm you bestow upon him, one that leaves him shaking next to you and squirting all over himself and the bed !!

think about how fucking pretty neuvillette's pale thighs would be shimmering in the gleam left by his messy, messy release. do you think he'd wanna taste himself, lick at your dripping fingers and suckle the tang of his cunt off of you? that, and then maybe you can go back down on him, because neuvillette deserves this break. he deserves this, and so, so much more.

just, holy hell, dove . . . i love u sm for this ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ ur ideas are phenomenal and so is ur writing, 'cos now i'm hard !

[astralzeraphias]

maybe i came too early, maybe i came too late

i’m waiting in the shadows of the scaffolds of the old cafés where you told me to wait

[skyscrapergods]

Is the Sun proud, or perhaps even envious, of the way her student can connect to mortal ponies? (Thinking specifically of the Alicorn Twilight summary post, and her being able to have in-depth conversations with multiple ponies that "can last hours")

Celestia is proud of Twilight, yes. She is not envious, as having a relationship with tiny mortals is beyond what the sun cares about. They are so small, like motes of dust. She barely even misses them. She knows she is disconnected from mortal affairs and the chasm is far too deep for her light to reach.

Which is precisely why the sun took notice of Twilight Sparkle: she saw hope for a generation of magic where it's very definition is connection with mortals. Twilight created a friend for herself out of a rock, that's how important friendship was to her. If the gods could nurture this ache, could craft her life's path around connection with her fellow ponies, then she could become a bridge between gods and mortals for eternity.

It came with some unexpected consequences though. A goddess who cares first and foremost for mortal affairs is going to disagree with the way the other goddesses ran things for millennia. Celestia and Luna installed their own budding ruler as monarch of the crystal empire. But Twilight came in, listened to the subject's wishes, and convinced Cadance and the others to step down and allow a crystal pony to lead the crystal ponies instead of a colonist.

So rather than envy, there is a certain level of irritation. Twilight is here to promote the will of the people rather than the will of the gods. It's a direct consequence of her divine essence. She is the goddess of friendship, not of the sun or moon or romance. So of course she would have different priorities than the others. She is doing exactly what she was chosen to do and so much more.

As Twilight grows, Celestia and Luna realize more and more they are disconnected from mortals, and their will in picking rulers and making laws is out of touch, confusing, and damaging. They begin work to leave the kingdom in her hooves, trusting her to handle mortal affairs for the benefit of all. They shouldn't be surprised, then, when she dismantles the monarchy and steps down herself.

It's still shocking! But by now they've learned to listen to Twilight when she tells them of her conversations with tiny, insignificant ponies. They trust her to always prioritize harmony even at the expense of her own power.

This is why she was chosen, after all. To be what the sun could not be: a friend.

[the-god-of-night]

*The god of charm sits fuming on the couch. He had been looking for his lover when he bumped into the watcher, a few minutes of the watcher spilling the beans, and now here he is waiting. Chica is laying next to him and looking at him. Charm gives a little smile and pets her head, they both hear the door open and charm returns to his hardened look*

(I couldn’t remember how to spell my blog name🤦🏼)

Night was in some deep trouble and he knew that majorly. So to hopefully save his god ass he got so many many gifts charm. Three bouquet of flowers mostly roses as well as a box of chocolates. He sheepishly walks into the house and saw charm glaring at him he grew more nervous. “Hello darling…” chica looks at night and barks at him.

@god-of-charm-kollok

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 07: free space a happy ending

Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch. 

But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.” 

Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream. 

Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.” 

It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet. 

“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.

The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave. 

But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now. 

Remembering the words. 

What are you doing? 

Changing the world. 

So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does. 

Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is. 

His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse. 

It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin. 

Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside. 

"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."

He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up. 

Everything. You're everything. 

He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin. 

"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."

You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise. 

Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody. 

"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."

When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is. 

He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second. 

The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers. 

"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“ 

"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."

"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too." 

"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror. 

They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love. 

Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie. 

I love you. 

~*~

It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days. 

It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie. 

And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now. 

Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs. 

Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient. 

~*~

Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other. 

Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie. 

Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord. 

"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."

Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it." 

And so they do. 

Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means." 

Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."

There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them. 

You know, I always figured it would be you. 

No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.

It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be. 

"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too." 

"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked. 

"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys." 

And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his. 

"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!" 

"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time. 

When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile. 

~*~

It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you. 

It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.

It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression. 

"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.

"Yeah, baby?" 

Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.

"I love you." 

"Hmm. I love you more." 

No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?" 

He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers. 

And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask. 

It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future. 

And there are many, many more after this one.

🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13

god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay

[blakbonnet]

hi meow babe, very important question for you. I know they’re cuddling right now but do you think: 1. stede is the big spoon so he can bury his nose in ed’s hair, 2. ed is the big spoon so he can place his hand over stede’s heart (and stiddy), 3. they are nose to nose, or a secret fourth option? ❤️

allow me to show you my vision

[sunkissedlouis]

😵‍💫🔥 S⭕️S⚠️

[mcondance]

cw blasphemy.

“i’m a jealous lover.” druig croons, dancing his lips against your parted ones, a hand on your waist. the wall behind you is steady, a contrast to druig’s swaying form. quiet and composed, sure in his emotions, he lays them bare to you in a moment of vulnerability. still, he has to play, to pick and prod with his words in a way only he can. ‘jealous lover’ he says, making holy the words that humans have made holy for centuries.

his origin is not important, not here, not now. now, he’s normal. simple. a reference to god is just that; a morphing of text to something that means much more to you than it’s source. he’s a jealous lover. the context in which it’s used makes it hit you harder, to know he’s referencing a god’s envious love for his people in his love for you.

“jealous lover, huh?” you sing, and he huffs a little breath out of his nose, the corners of his lips turning up. he nods once, his head notching up just a little. “you quotin’ the bible to me?”

and he knows it’s silly, knows you think it’s funny just as you do the religion he quotes, but it’s here, and it’s true. and you know that too.

“i’m jealous,” he almost pouts, the hand on your waist pulling your body to him and swinging his body to yours. your hands come up against his chest, curling around his neck and crossing at the wrist behind his head, your bracelets clinging together softly as they hang.

“what for?” you smile, looking in his eyes like he hung the stars in the sky. it’s ironic, really.

and just like a god, he’s unexplained and understood only by those who worship him. “nothin’.”

[levshany]

I wanna remind you one more time that I’m a big fan of puppets (especially if they are possessed)

dark version of this art is under the cut