#dreamsarelikedragonflies

[stix-n-bread]

As a state park worker I do not condone taking home the ducks or even attempting to! They have teeth and like to bite! On the other hand, if I saw you attempting to hold a duck I would not stop you.

oh alright i’ll listen to your concern... though i do appreciate knowing that you wouldn’t try to intrude on my successful duck holding capabilities :)

[nrth-wind-a]

👑 ?

👑 - someone my muse is jealous of

“Jealousy is for those who are petty and foolish and do not look inward to their own abilities. Rather than longing for what another has, why not look in at the self, and take stock of what you can do? If the answer is unsatisfactory, then there is no use in resenting another for the fact that they took the time to learn something you did not. Your energy could go directly toward learning whatever it is you would be resenting them for in the first place. Allowing one’s heart to hate without good reason is a path toward the type of apathy which seeks out your insecurities and gives them the power to make you still. 

“I refuse to allow myself to surrender to any kind of jealousy. It is unhelpful and discourages action. I do not want or need what another has.” Skrael frowns.

Despite his posturing, something is nagging at the base of his skull, and it is displeasing. It evokes images of life-green and kindness, laughter. Hope. Belief-- he shakes his head. Belief which is naïve and ridiculous. A positive disposition, and the hope which fuels it, will not altogether fix the broken scales of the world. 

He is not jealous of anyone, because has no room to be; no time. He must move, and he cannot do that if he is weighed down with bitter envy. Therefore, he is jealous of no one; even if something traitorous in his mind glares hard at Hope and covets it in secret.

[fear-before-valor]

🔪 ?

🔪 - someone my muse hurt in the past --

Jim grimaces. “Uh... to be entirely honest, there’s a few...” He looks down, guiltily. “Angor is the one that comes to mind immediately, though. I didn’t mean for anything with him to go the way it did...”

[douxie-casperan]

♣ ?

♣ - A fading memory

Tonight, their chosen bed happened to be squirreled away in a tiny gap of the stables used by the huntsman out the way enough that even the horses wouldn’t be able to kick out a leg if they were feeling restless. It was nicely sheltered from the howling winds outside that had been threatening rain for hours and that was the biggest reason he’d chosen it for them. From experience (A few years now at this point) animals were a pretty good bet among those who made their living on the streets because they were very good at warning when the sun started to rise while being placid enough to not mind a child being there nor said child abusing the water buckets to get a drink. The biggest downside however was you could only ever risk one night there, everyone had heard of somebody who had been caught when they got too comfortable or trampled when an unexpected hunt was summoned and nobody wanted to be the latest example. At this hour leaving was too risky weather aside and annoyingly Douxie was on the wrong side of restless for the hour and without access to any of his caches dotted about the buildings there is nothing left to do but think.

It probably would surprise the ordinary folk how much time gets dedicated to simply thinking about things but it really did. You would be planning what sort of food you might get that day or where to avoid, if you need to check nobody had stolen your stuff while not looking, listening to the gossip if there was any suggestion on the weather to help you decide where best to sleep later then there were the regular plans that came in between that often involved a few more of the rag tag team as there was always safety in numbers not to mention the knowledge that could be passed on. Before falling asleep though? Those tended to be a mix of anything there was no room in your head for otherwise if you wanted to stay in one piece while you were awake.

While absently running a hand through Archie’s fur there is one thing that he often kept coming back to over and over and that was the Before. It exists just on the very fringes like a snatch of a memory being barely kept away from an oblivion masked in a startling blue that belonged to nothing yet somehow felt important. After it there is a fracture of what might have only been minutes filled only with confusion and tears that filling his eyes without any reason as to why before his soon to be familiar would find him between the trees. Every time he tries to think of even seconds prior to that colour clouding his vision, the same that reminds him so very much of his own magic, there is a white flash of pain in his head like a warning to not to pry too deep only getting worse the more he tries to push.

It scared him what might happen if one day he didn’t stop pushing.

Once he had asked Archie if he’d seen anything before then on the off chance it might have held any answers and his answer was odd. He said he’d seen him worn around the edges with a dirtied face with an orb of magic held within his hand that he stared at while crying and somehow knew that was where he was meant to be because it wouldn’t be right to leave somebody so young in such a state. He’s eternally grateful for it and all too aware that they could have so easily missed one another and simply never met and well where would he be then? The idea of being alone was somehow scarier than not knowing why his heart still ached with something that had once been there that he could never get back. At least with the currently cat shaped dragon curled up as he is on his chest that hole didn’t feel quite as deep as it might have been otherwise now filled in with this little family of two.

[maiolica-admirer]

✈️?

Things mentioned in this drabble are direct references to @strickjagger​ and stuff from last April which is a horrifying amount of time ago.

✈ - An eye-opening memory

Yesterday had been surprisingly exciting in ways that didn’t involve anybody suffering bodily harm which was rather refreshing given the events of previous months, after all who could say no to kicking a door in and giving your former superior a heart attack without a single sword being drawn? She certainly would not and it felt like a just reward earned after everything particularly with the shriek, oh now that is something she will be treasuring for a very long time like a party trick waiting for it’s prime moment to be brought out. With part one of her self-declared mission now completed, the next step was dragging his sorry ass back to Arcadia where he can do something more useful than moping around for weeks on end poking around Facebook for his lost lady love akin to a widow and dumped teenager rolled into one wretched mess of depression. The display was utterly revolting and truly she was doing both him and the world at large a grand favour here by intervening.

At first there were a few delays before anything could get moving partly because she decided before anything was settled on he had to go get himself scrubbed up and free of his stubbly wares while she would abuse the opportunity to enjoy the quaint scenery with a spot of tea in peace. A standard had been set after all having made sure to freshen up a bit with proper food, a shower, clean clothes and enough make up to hide the wretched state that was her condition underneath so quite frankly he should have the basic decency to do the same before setting foot outside. Of course there was a bit of enjoyment at bossing him around like this and with being unlikely to get an opportunity she would never get again, well why not? The next hold up was the particulars of transportation which needed to both balance getting there the fastest while remaining lighter on the wallet thanks to limited funds. These are narrowed down to a road trip causing dramatic groan at the idea of having to spend hours in his company while in close confines for an extended period just to make very clear her dislike at the idea. After that all that was left to do was getting hold of a suitable car that could be conveniently ditched afterwards without giving any wrong ideas to any who found it. She only got more annoyed when her suggestion of hotwiring something was shot down and ceremoniously flipped him off out of petty spite.

With supplies belatedly gathered, coffee to go, something to drive that was a disgusting aqua coloured thing and through flagrant complaining about her (Formerly) broken fetlock they came to a deal that he would take the day shifts and her the nights. There was some gleeful snarking about his habit of vehicles and cliffs which earned a look over the steering wheel and she merely grinned right back while toasting with the disposable cup. So it went on like that with loose banter fired between about innocent topics, a slightly annotated version of recent events now there was no risk of being heard, some reminiscing of older times interspersed with more than a few choice words for bad driving by other parties. The white lines are not optional you idiotic fleshbags stay in your damn lane!

On day two by midday it featured a rather bored Nomura which a very dangerous prospect because basic decency and social decorum tends to go out the window if she has no way to vent her frustrations and had lost interest in talking for the time. The silence becomes a rather ominous thing for the driver who has acquired a crease in his brow because if she is not resting, certain from how she keeps grumbling something, it means she must be plotting something and it is quickly confirmed when there is the unmistakable feeling of the closest pocket being rummaged in.

“Do you mind?” He utters taking his eye off the road a second to glare.

“Not at all,” is the innocent answer while she sits comfortably back in her seat with her prize swiftly being broken into with a few taps because pin codes mean nothing. Getting an annoyed scoff back, he knows trying to take it back will only make it more tempting to hoard thus he is left only to secretly hope she will only stick to the photos and video collection and not find anything potentially compromising or worse, blackmail material.

For a time at least his passenger in question seems content enough to only poke around at what could fall under the first category from how the expressions vary from smirks to mildly grossed out (Not hard to guess what the cause was there) to an aww and even the sound of pure mocking laughter which was something to be grateful for even if there is little doubt she is sending a few to herself to enjoy later. Sadly, all good things come to an end and always far too soon, the loud humming suggests investigations have begun for anything else that could catch her wavering interest while a finger flickers this way and that. Suspicions are quickly confirmed with the following remark.

“When was the last time you bothered to clear out your damn voicemail?”

“Not recently enough apparently, if you insist on looking please don’t delete anything.”

“A tempting idea but sure, there is a disgusting amount of your precious lady love in here anyway.”

“… Shut up, Nomura.”

She flashes a vicious grin his way without any shame whatsoever then proceeds to hold the phone close to that side of her face after pitching the volume a touch lower for that ironic privacy vibe while checking what tempting things that have been left ready to be found. The dates are as erratic as the time sent with the more mundane often during the day from who she presumes are his former school colleagues, one from her even which comes as a surprise given it is bragging about getting a gift through customs (A sword if she recalls correctly) and a few coded ones she had little interest in deciphering. Then there was a few with the good Doctor that skirted just close enough to flirty they were stopped pretty quickly with a near shriek and another finger shown his direction for the chuckle her undue suffering caused. It was strange how the newer ones still marked with her name simply mentioning coffee? Hm, something to prod about given they’d been left for listening to over and over while being depressive.

Then there was one sitting there right at the top that hadn’t been listened to once that just screamed click me.  

“Awww did you and our favourite German asshole have a little spat?”

“A falling out you could say yes, he tried to throw me to the wolves but as you can tell none of them managed to bite.”

“Shame, probably most excitement you had in ages after we were down a troll tantrum thrower. Alright let’s see what our mystery message is because you’re too chicken shit to find out yourself.”

The final message opens with the sounds of heavy breathing of somebody had been running hard but had to keep going, the bangs and clatters of metal being hit or something large being thrown around. Sometimes the faint echoes of what sounded like screaming muffled by a doorway interrupted by a familiar voice sounding utterly defeated yet comforted by the knowing a last testament will be heard.

“You were right, Stricklander. Does knowing that make you happy? Ah well, it turns out we were as disposable to him as we were to one another it seems no matter our plans or great feats we have overcome for a moment of glory none of it meant a thing in the end. Some of us tried to buy as much time as we could what little it was but I can’t say for sure how many managed to make it out… I won’t but I’ve chosen my grave and I think you’d like it-” There is a pause with the sound of movement, of someone yelling in their own tongue before being cut off mid-sentence by a Reaper carved of stone.

“You were truly one of the best of us, mein freund. If you never believed a single thing I’ve said in our long years together please accept that I… I don’t have very much time left. Ah listen to me of all changelings being sentimental on my very own deathbed! Alas I cannot quite pull the same tricks as you being her favourite while we were the abandoned children of the night. If we truly have souls may we meet in the next life and know you still owe me a good bottle of r----”

The message cuts out into static before petering out into nothingness. Silence overcomes the car.

[everlastingfable]

👀?

Suddenly he was five-years-old again, hiding in the underground bunker while bombs destroyed the world above. Every explosion sent shockwaves through the bunker, occasionally knocking over canned food and various other trinkets they managed to bring down with them. His parents are holding him tight, hands running through his hair, and softly spoken words assuring him that he'll be safe as long as they're around.

[trashchild-7up]

“Thank you”

[arcadiaoaksusedbooks]

🎉?

Send 🎉 to hear my muses New Year’s Resolution

“I think this year, I’ll stop hiding that I’m a wizard and stop wearing my glamour. With trolls and Akiridians accepted here in Arcadia, why not wizards too? I’m feeling pretty done hiding.”

[but-master]

✔ !! (and for you here as well lol)

// !!! Aaaaa thank you so much!! <333

[ilovemosss]

cyan!!

ah!!! friend!!!!! thank you!!!!!!! also hello!!!!!

[stix-n-bread]

1. Cursed art. 2. Beautiful art style. 3. The best tags on posts

i love how the cursed aspect is a given dkkdks!! thank you on the other two as well!!! <3

(first 3 things that come into mind when you think of my account?)

[nrth-wind-a]

✔

// OMG you’re too sweet !!

[degenderates]

You reblogged that things about finding your blog and I actually asked myself the other day how you ended up someone I follow and I couldn’t for the life of me figure it out. But I like what you post and share so I’ll be sticking around, lol.

lmao thank you...i mean i go in and out of fandoms a lot so i wouldn’t be surprised if it was something i used to post about haha

(ask me how you found my blog/why you followed me)

[douxie-casperan]

🌸

“A curious fact this time I see! Kinda full of those so that doesn't really narrow it down much so how about a fun little tidbit? Humans are really terrible at believing what’s right in front of them or through an understandable lack of knowledge make up something new entirely. Quite often there was a magical root to the sightings that may have since gone underground or extinct in the meanwhile but things persisted anyway simply because of the very nature of storytelling,” he answers with a shrug.

“Personally my favourite local legend is the Billy Craggle because you know that’s a troll of some kind given the Market in Arcadia.. Somebody on the goaty side of things must have been spotted at some point and that did it but not knowing the inhabitants so well couldn’t pin down what myself. More than sure that a few changelings have been mistaken for werewolves too plus Archie got mistaken for an attack snail once waaay back. Now THAT one was hilarious wasn’t our fault the actual critter got hunted out of existence you don’t notice it happening some of the time.”

[feather-dancer]

🌹

"Furry bastard," he chuckles whilst giving his familiar a playful shove only to be bonelessly draped over for woe! Such insults must be endured in this household! It earns him an extra scritch behind the ears with the arm not pinned down.

[dreamsarelikedragonflies]

Take it in Take it all in The fresh air, the cool breeze, the sun on your face. Those are some pretty big things, aren’t they They’re not the ‘little things’ no The little things are not the common things They’re not the things we pretend they are We pretend we love the little things, We say that the little things are warm coffee on a winter day and the smell of a certain perfume you like and a pretty color from your childhood But those aren’t the little things no The little things are the ones we notice when we least expected to, the ones that don’t have much of an impact on anyone but you Like how you realize you associate the smell of woodsmoke with your childhood memories Like realizing how you speak, with a variation of voice different from everyone else’s in the world Like how blue someone’s eyes are at a certain moment Like how when walking barefoot you step on a sharp rock and grimace Like how you look at your shadow and notice all the frizzy hairs sticking out of your head Those are the little things They matter to us, but too often we don’t voice our own little things Each of us has our own little things, And they’re in no way the ‘little things’ that most people mean no Nothing matters except our own little things, because those are the little things that define you

 little things, E.B.C