she is not only calm but a little quiet

Garnet, relaxing on a deck chair, somehow pulling off poofy shoulder pads, a square afro and what I can only assume are magical aviator goggles, all at the same time. How did she become this cool.

Amethyst’s hair is pretty much how mine looked when I was about 15, probably a little longer. Also, she’s purple, which is my favourite colour, so that’s cool. I actually have an amethyst - as in, the gemstone - with me as I type this, but I feel that says more about me than it does about her. 

That sitting animation was adorable, and I love the colours used in this shot.

So, from the opening, Garnet seems quiet, calm and relaxed, Amethyst is groovy and upbeat, while Pearl is serene and graceful.

And here’s Steven, cheery, and eating a hotdog.

All in all, that was a good opening! The music is cute, and the singers are actually quite good. 

Black Scarf ...

The whole bedroom was plunged into darkness, the only source of light coming from the lamp on his bedside table. Her calm breathing and the sounds of the pages turning from the book she was reading was the only noises in the quiet house. she sank her body a little bit more into the big pillows supporting her back against the headboard of the bed. Her feets rubbing to each other to warm her up, the big fluffy blanket as mellow as it was, couldn’t warm her body as he could when they were in this bed together.

She looked one more time at her phone for the hour. It was late, way more late than she was used to be awake. She was now sleepy and her eyes were a bit painful but she couldn’t sleep yet. She didn’t want to fall asleep before he could come home. She didn’t came with him at the “Another Man” dinner because she had her personal reasons and even with his repeated requests he didn’t managed to make her come.

The lignes from the page she was reading started to lost their meaning when the imagine of Harry in his black suit popped in her mind,  reminding all the details she was looking at.  The way the elegant black fabric suited so well his shoulders. His waist tightened by this only button she was playing with when he asked her a last time to change her mind. The way the simple black scarf added to his personal touch. Even the choice she thought improbable of wearing black nail polish looked good with the whole outfit. She remembered the way he pressed a soft kiss on her forehead when she brushed her fingertips on the shiny black lapels of his suit the second before he left the house.

She was taken out of her musings as heard the sound of familiar footsteps coming from the corridor. She came up with A light smile on the side of her mouth when the door opened with a Harry standing in the doorway a slightly drunk smile over his face, his head tilted to the side as soon as he saw her

“Still awake my Little Queen? Waiting for me maybe?” Unbuttoning his jacket, he let the fabric fall on the ground as he  slowly walked to the bed. He leaned forward ,walking on all fours to join her. His arms and legs came above her body who was still hidden under the big blanket. Closer to her face, his eyes sparkling when she gave him back his smile. Leaning his face to plent a soft kiss on her cheek, the cold tip of his nose caused her body to sightly shiver. His lips followed the line of her jaw to find her earlobe,where he pressed a kiss ; the vibrations of his low voice against her ear tickling her.

“Did you missed me in this bed all by yourself tonight? Is it as comfy as me holding you at night?” Caressing the edge of her ear with his nose, he smiled when he could heard her retain a whimper down her throat.

With a slow move he removes the duvet covering her upper body. It was His lips kissing the base of her neck who were now causing her skin to get covered by goosebumps more than by the loss of warmth from the duvet. His kisses slowly going down her chest, and his lips pressing kisses above the fabric of her t-shirt. She lay her hand over his cheek and caressed the side of his neck. Harry turned his face toward her hand and kissed her palm, closing his eyes.

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There is very little Widow76 and I hope to change that with a few headcannons:

She doesn’t feel much, but the soldier’s presence sparks something deep within her chest. The hands that trail over her skin are worn and rough. Scars crisscross over his knuckles, but the gentleness is never mistaken. 

The mask hides many things, but it also shows him different sides of her, unable to be caught staring. The small motion of her hand flipping her hair back over her shoulder. A calm, quietness that hangs around her when she is simply observing the world. Seeing her little habits helps the bud of hope bloom though it is hidden deep within his rib cage.

Only when they are alone does her lips tug into something like a smile. Her accent is smooth and song like when she speaks loving things. The triumphant on her cheeks grows when he looks away and tries to suppress the flustered emotion arising in him. Her flirting making him lose his stoic and tense armor. 

The cold is nothing to her. Her skin displayed blue and unfeeling. Soldier 76 knows this, but when they are watching the stars blink into existence, without fail his jacket appears around her shoulders. She states that she does not need it, but he refuses to take it back. Slipping into the worn leather, she’ll lay her head against his shoulder. Moments later, he’ll be resting his own against her hair. 

I’m too tired to write properly right now–being sick is wearing me out on so many levels, and not being able to sleep doesn’t help–but that post about which Critical Role characters knew which languages put an idea in my head I wish I could do justice to right now: 

Vex, the party member with the most languages under her belt, discovering that they need to research something in Celestial, and Percy’s the only one who can read it.

Vex, irked at the gap in her own knowledge, asking Percy to help her translate, interrupting him repeatedly (at first to his annoyance, and then he catches on) to figure out this word or that, the meaning of a particular character, the nature of a certain turn of phrase.

Percy patiently explaining in the end, running one finger under the lines and occasionally sketching out emphasis for her benefit as she settles in to watch, his voice going quiet and calm and only hitching a little when she rests her head on his shoulder.

And Vex not quite knowing what to do with the feeling of listening to this man with his shadow-scarred soul speaking so beautifully in the language of angels.

god where this this fic and why doesn’t it exist yet crap i’m still gonna have to write it aren’t i

x || @pocketsystem

       The girl was walking through a small street that appeared to be DESOLATED , there was no one walking around here everything seemed to be calm & quiet , the only thing that Martine could hear and feel was a slight breeze that was blowing in the air tonight, but nothing more.
But, that silence lasted only a few minutes before it was interrupted by a voice that seemed very familiar to the girl, and was also very catchy !
Martine came up to the little pub that was located at the bottom of the street, & took a look inside,curiously. she wanted to find out who was SINGING.. turned out to be Ryan, the two of them were meeting each other really often. and woah he had a really good voice !

   ❝  oh - sorry i didn’t mean to interrupt , your voice is just really catchy 

I’ll Find You in San Fransisco (Closed)

It had been a year since the Tornado hit Arcadia Bay. Max visited Chloe’s grave weekly and talked to her. Max still had her rewind powers, but it was only for dangerous situations. She kept in touch with everyone from Blackwell, including Victoria. They became good friends. However, Max decided to leave Arcadia and go to San Fransisco - she even won the Everyday Heroes contest which Principal Wells took her to. 

She lived in her own little upscale apartment with an oceanic view. It was always calm and quiet here. She also had her own little studio set up for photos. Max was on her way to being a great photographer. She even went to the Arts College there in San Fran. Her sense of style even changed, she was still hipster but more feminine. She wore a black floral patterned skirt with black boots and a spaghetti strap shirt with a black cardigan. Her hair was up in a little pony tail, and she wore white pearl dangly earrings. She had only wished she could share all these moments with Chloe. So, she decided to write in her journal. It made her feel more connected. Max even put a little blue butterfly on the pages, like a scrap book.

Dear Chloe,

So much has happened since we parted. I think of you every day, and I miss coming to talk to you. But you are always in my heart. Please remember that. I wish I could talk about my adventures here. I made such good friends here. Also, Kate is even thinking of moving in with me! She wanted to apply to the same school after Blackwell and practically begged her parents after everything had happened with her. So, that’s exciting! I also got my own place it’s beautiful here Chloe. You and Rachel would have loved it! Anyway I am off to take some beach shots! I love you! xoxox  ~ Max

Max put her journal away, grabbing her camera - which wasn’t her Polaroid. Sadly she had to start learning digital. She hated it, mostly because it made her think of Mark Jefferson. It was the same Hasselblad brand. She had to admit though it took amazing shots. As she walked down to the beach she smiled, it made her think of the lighthouse and being with Chloe. She stood at the beach line and started into the sunset, the sun warming her face.

“I miss you, Chloe.”


For three years now, Elvis had been telling me that Priscilla was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and when I first met her at Graceland before we all headed out to the rink that night, I could finally see what Elvis had been talking about: Priscilla was drop-dead gorgeous. She was young; she’d only been fourteen when she and Elvis met in Germany, and now she was seventeen. But she had a calm and a poise to her that made her seem much older. She was quiet and understandably a little awed by the world she was stepping in to. But Elvis was so gentle and thoughtful toward her, as I got to see throughout our night at Rainbow, that it was pretty obvious his feelings for her were stronger than anything he’d felt before.
—  George Klein, on Elvis and Priscilla Presley. From his book, “Elvis: My Best Man: Radio Days, Rock ‘N’ Roll Nights, and My Lifelong Friendship with Elvis Presley.”
When You Love Someone

This ficlet was inspired by an amazing gifset that can be found here, and is available on FF here.

A/N: All I want is the writers to mirror the quote Killian says in 5x13, ‘when you love someone, you know’ from last night in a proposal, so here is my take on that. Enjoy the death by fluff, because it is far superior to the death by angst of OUAT reality right now.

The cool breeze of the sea was whipping at her hair and sending a little chill through her as it touched her cheek, but nothing could have pulled Emma from this place. She and Killian were by the beach, having needed a quiet moment alone, and something that was strong enough to calm the both. Between the presence of the other, and the quiet tranquility of the sea, they’d found it.

Standing here with Killian, feeling that they were safe and home was all she’d dreamed about for weeks. Everything in her was aching for the peace that only his presence could provide, and finally, after too long without him, and then too long fighting for their lives, she had another moment, another space in time where they were whole and happy. She would give anything for it to stay this way.

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Daryl Dixon - Keep Calm

Word count:  1966

Trigger warnings: Blood

Tags: Daryl Dixon, Reader, Fluff

Plot/Request: It’s okay if you don’t want to write this, I’ll still love your account. Um, could you maybe do one where the reader almost gets bit on a run with Daryl, Shane and Rick and she starts having a panic attack and they’re trying to keep her quiet and calm so the other walkers don’t get them. Maybe only Daryl is able to help her. Please and thank you!

Note: This was fun to write :D

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So, you’ve seen Aveline’s new hair from this Trespasser slide, right?  Here’s my headcanon on how it happened. (900 words, all fluff.)

Aveline’s fingers still for a moment as her warrior’s instincts stir; something feels different, wrong. She glances around the room, but nothing seems amiss - the twins are both calm, little Donnic asleep on the rug with a smear of jam on his face, Marian sitting quietly on the floor between her knees.

And that’s what feels wrong, she realizes - it’s quiet. For a rare moment the room is still, the silence broken only by the shift of a log in the fire, the creak of the rocking chair. She has grown so accustomed to chaos now that its absence is alarming. She chuckles softly as her fingers return to their work, softly brushing out her daughter’s bath-damp hair and weaving it deftly into a braid.

She ties it off with a bow that was painstakingly chosen from little Marian’s treasured stash, tiny fingers combing through a cookie tin of jewel-toned ribbon scraps as intently as if the fate of the world rested upon the decision. “There, my love,” Aveline says fondly as Marian swings the end of the braid over her shoulder to inspect the ribbon - yellow again, a particular favorite. “All done.”

Marian climbs onto the arm of the sofa and perches there beside her mother; a small hand reaches for the abandoned hairbrush. “Maman?” she asks, running the bristles of the brush through Aveline’s short, soft spikes. “What happened to your hair?”

A contented chuckle rises from the rocking chair beside the hearth. “She glared at it in the looking-glass, and it ran away in fear.”

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