Thank you! 💚

🥹 Ed deserves it!

🥲

Heaven's Light - an OFMD animatic YouTube video by sungme

for take two tuesday, here's the #gentlebeard animatic i did to Heaven's Light from Hunchback of Notre Dame ✨️

still pleased with this one, cause it took me ages to finish
youtu.be/YrAjMJOFX5s?...

🫂🫂🫂

Oh. My. 🫠

oh 🥹🥹 I'm glad you liked it! 💚

💚🥰

thank you 🥰

thanks! 💚💚

thank you! 🥰

Ed rests.

/fin

Ed lets the words drift through his mind, feels the slow release of his body's grip on consciousness. Heavy. Warm.

He gives a quick hum, and Stede resumes his ministrations as his voice fills the room with a gentle murmur.

The fingers trailing through Ed's waves pause momentarily, awaiting Ed's response, as though it would ever be anything but yes, yes, a thousand times yes, because Ed could never be anything but ready for Stede. All in, this life with him.

Ed smiles to himself as Stede thumbs the book open, a quiet susurrus of pages leading to the moment suspended in time from just the night before. "Ah! Yes. Here we are then. Comfortable, love?"

"Now then." A click of thin metal against thin metal as Stede unfold his readers. They live here, right on the current book keeping them company on nights like this. Watching. Waiting. Always ready for another sleepless night.

Stede settles in at the end of the sofa, encouraging Ed's head up so he can encourage Ed's head back down. Cheek resting on Stede's thigh. Stede's fingers in his hair. Ed's a contented housecat here.

Thinks about the lighthouse keeper's wife that gifted it to them when they eloped to the secluded rocky outcropping below her home.

"Oh love. Come then."

Ed lets himself be led to the once-guest-room turned library, lets himself be laid out along the sofa and draped with blankets. Runs his thumb along the finished edge of the afghan Stede knitted last winter, buries his nose into the quilt that Stede layers atop.

"Can't sleep?"

Ed doesn't need to answer, simply tips his head into a mess of blond and breaths deeply. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine sleep washing over him just like this. Cozy, comfort, safe.

The bed creaks as Stede rolls to sit at the edge, the heavy fabric of their quilts being tossed aside with a fwump. Shuffling feet follow soon after, and Ed pauses in his path, waiting with anticipation for Stede to slip strong arms around his waist, to rest a heavy chin on his shoulder.

It's quiet, always is when Stede calls out, as though anyone else might be disturbed by voices at the witching hour.

The telltale thunk of Stede's arm flopping in search onto Ed's side of the bed is proof enough.

"Ed?"

He continues his trek regardless, hoping Stede will sink back into his dreaming. Maybe this night he won't notice Ed's not there. Even as he hopes, Ed knows it's a lost cause; Stede won't ignore Ed's absence long.

Another pass, a snuffle-snort from Stede, and Ed knows he's been caught out. Absent without leave, abandoned post of the left side of the bed.

Stede's even breaths come hushed from their bedroom, a constant companion. He'd be jealous if he didn't love the man so much. Angry, if he wasn't so glad for Stede's rest.

His soft-soled slippers shush across the hallway's wood floors, the creaking accompaniment a sad sort of symphony to his passes. Ten steps, pause, listen, turn. Ten steps, pause, listen, turn.

Another night, sleepless. Another impending day, exhausted.

how about a tiny #ofmd #skyfic 🧵 because why not

Ed drifts through the house, a victorian ghost lost, the hours ticking past as the moon keeps vigil. Restless. No longer able to just trace the lines of Stede's face in the darkness. No longer able to just listen to the steady beat of Stede's heart.