#a quiet moment

[matchstique]

Another suggestion.

[theoneofshame]

Just a quick sketch to properly kick off this side blog

[missingpetrock]

"Not Strong Enough" - Fantasy High Animatic by Wormtime

I am a huge fan of Dropout's "Dimension 20", and have enjoyed Brenna's work since he was making a Webcomic back in the day, but "Fantasy High" has certainly been on of my favorite settings. That favor is in no small part to how much the resplendent Ally Beardsley put themselves into the character of Kristen Applebees, and how I got see them put humor on to all dark things I could relate to. That said when Wormtime started posting really fun animatics about the latest season of "Fantasy High, Junior year", i lucked out that youtube starting sending them my way. For me it was really meaningful to watch Ally play Kristen Applebees through learning Chaos isn't always cute, and watch Kristen do her best to make something that was going to work for her long time. I think Wormtime really captured the highs and lows of what I was resonating with along side an excellent melody of Melancholy by Boygeniues. It lays out Kristen's story of loneliness, community, and the meaningful moments of doubt in all our lives. I hope y'all find to be to your liking, and TTY'allL

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Morgana AU Pt 5

After what seems an interminable time, Gaius withdraws, leaving Gwen alone by the bedside. "I have done all I can," he says softly, "for now."

Kara barely looks up from her seat beside Morgana's cot, but Gwen utters a soft thank you.

"I shall go and update the king," the man continues. "I'll see to it that you are not disturbed."

In the quiet that follow his departure, Kara takes up a clean cloth and dips it into a bowl of water, and begins to clean Morgana's wrists. They are raw and weeping-- she must have been in the stocks from the moment they were separated, Kara realizes. Gwen does the same for the reddened band of skin at Morgana's neck, where it too had been rubbed raw by the stocks.

"What's going to happen now?" Kara murmurs quietly.

That Morgana will survive is an assumption they share, for Gwen's response cuts straight to the heart of the matter.

"I don't know," she says. "I don't deny she doesn't deserve punishment for her crimes, but... hasn't she been punished enough?"

Kara's gaze drifts back to the wrist in her hands, where new injury overlaps the old scars of iron manacles. She exhales, reminded of Lena, who had committed wrongs yet paid for them and more a hundred times over.

"I suppose that's not for us to decide," Kara observes quietly. "Is Arthur...?"

"He's not a cruel man," Gwen confirms, before her features grow solemn. "Or, at least he wasn't. That he would welcome a man like Sarrum into his castle... perhaps things have changed more than I thought."

Setting aside her damo cloth, Kara simply takes a moment to hold Morgana's hand in hers.

She could not say what may happen next, that much is certain. All she can promise is that, whatever happens-- Morgana will not face it alone.

---

They are allowed to keep vigil throughout the night without interruption, but early the following morning a knock sounds at the door. On the other side is Arthur, with dark circles under his eyes and looking far more haggard than a king ought to be.

"May I sit with her?" he asks.

Kara leaves the answer to Gwen, who steps aside to give him entrance. Beyond the door Kara catches a glimpse of Merlin, looking worried but making no move to trail inside behind his master.

"Thank you," Arthur says softly when Gwen closes the door firmly behind him. "I know I shouldn't-- I should... but I--"

"She's your sister," Gwen echoes his own words back at him. "And your friend."

"Or she was," Arthur observes. Gwen nods him towards the stool she'd vacated, and Arthur takes his seat. His hand twitches towards Morgana's as she yet sleeps, but ultimately is gripped by the other. "I never wished for that to change, and yet..."

"We've all made our choices."

Arthur blinks up at her, but says nothing. The history between them, between all three of them, hangs heavy and unspoken in the air. Kara remains quiet.

"What of the other prisoners--?"

"Freed," Arthur says quickly.

"And Sarrum?" Gwen presses, barely containing the poison in her voice.

Arthur pauses at that.

"Contained, for now." He swallows thickly. "He has related the manner of his... history, with Morgana."

"And you allow him to live?" Kara speaks up for the first time, anger sharpening her words. Arthur looks at her in surprise. "The man is a monster--"

"With a sizeable force outside my walls," Arthur points out. "I must tread carefully."

"He thought you would welcome a handful of druids for your pyres, Arthur," Gwen murmurs. "Why?"

Arthur shakes his head. "There have been no executions during my reign--"

"And yet he brought us to you in shackles!"

"He is used to treating with my father!" Arthur snaps, bristling before calming once more. "I cannot control how others perceive me--"

"You can. You can if your policies no longer target vulnerable people just trying to live their lives. They weren't harming anyone--"

"I know. I know. But if policy changes before the people are ready--"

"Your people are dying! Not by magic, but by the cruelty of your would-be allies," Gwen points out. "You are the king-- you set the example, or others will set it for you."

Instead of responding with the indignation Kara expects, Arthur seems to deflate a little. He exhales, turning his gaze back towards Morgana.

"I know."

[misscromwellsmonocle]

A Quiet Moment (1899) by Carlton Alfred Smith

[secicrexe]

Is this a denial of reality, or has something happened that has caused everyone to disappear from sight ?

.

. / i ate it / there was no one / i see no one / / and i will say ''thank you'' a hundred times / / sorry, i'm happy / .

Khalid EL Morabethi

voice : Mira

.

[blackjewels5]

[eonars]

Last summer I was on a very expedited acid come up at a music festival and my entirely unaware mother thousands of miles away was at costco and texted me incredulous at how they already had halloween stuff out for sale in the summer but all I saw was a message preview of a giant 10 foot tall skeleton with glowing eyes and "can u believe it??"

[proxycrit]

Linktober day 13, Skull Lake!

The trip to the lake’s thwarted by the weather. Oh well. We need more quiet moments of rest between action packed adventure, after all.

(Masterlist for this TOTK AU, Familiar Familiar!)

Plus patreon

[giotanner]

Sgt. John "Soap" MacTavish. Another rough day, another mission

[please support me with a reblog, i really wanna be in the cod fandom circle ♥]

PRINT

[hairmetal666]

They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.

Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.

The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.

To Metallica.

And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.

"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."

"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.

"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"

He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.

"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.

"Well, Dio's pretty okay."

This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.

---

Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.

"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.

Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"

He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.

"You want chips?" He asks.

"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."

And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.

"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"

Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--

"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."

"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."

He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.

---

"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.

"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.

"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.

"Wha--huh?" He blinks.

"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."

"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.

Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.

"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.

"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.

Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.

---

Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.

He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.

Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.

A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.

---

It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.

There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."

He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"

Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"

Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."

"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"

"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."

"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."

Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."

"Of course. It's just--this is just you."

He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."

"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.

He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.

The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"

"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."

He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."

"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.

He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."

"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.

He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.

It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.

"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.

"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"

Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"Well, stick around for a while."

Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."

[ominouspuff]

“Don’t they have rain on Kamino, Cody?”

“Don’t they have sunsets at your Jetii palace, sir?”

The General snorted gracelessly. “No one would ever believe the cheek on you. You’ve hoodwinked every ally I have.”

Cody grinned behind his helmet, all sharp teeth and satisfaction. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

[circusmantis]

I love drawing stp art omg

[belovedapollo]

a little bit late, but, goodbye July 🌳

reblog is ok, don’t repost / use

[pinacoladamatata]

blink and you'll miss it moments around skyhold....

[purple-raspberries]

Appy slices 🍎

I like to think the neighbors sometimes come into Howdy’s shop and just hang around while he does other things. Like a cafe! Though, he’d probably tell them to leave at some point. But they may also leave on their own since Howdy’s such a chatterbox! Ha!