oh dear, oh dear.

a wilting flower sheds petals like tears.

[pixiebones-blog1]

(hides my face in my hands i started scribbling them subconsciously)

[theprocast]

She swallowed the stars to relearn the art of making herself glow.

s.a., a modern woman’s word story (via svcredstars)

[ainswerths]

Is it possible to truly enjoy power?

[pixiebones-blog1]

malacians:

          “Hah! Sweet. Nice one.”

          Ryan inspected the very purple piece for a long moment, offering an appreciative nod. Not the most realistic piece, perhaps, but it was an expression of creativity nonetheless, and that made it valuable in its own right. 

          “Mountain Dew world?” He laughed. “Actually, y’know, there’s a shop in town that sells some proper witchy stuff. Mortar and pestles, cauldrons – bet you could make a super magical stew. 

     ❝Any world that could get me out of the test I have second period would be just dandy.❞ She admitted, tilting her head sheepishly. The mention of this shop is much more entertaining, however. Even so, she’s careful not to make any promises she can’t keep. While she knows she might not be able to check it out any time soon-- as much as she’d like to--she was interested. ❝Never mind that, though-- that shop sounds brilliant. Do you go there often, Ryan?❞

     ❝You know, I could imagine you mixing some super magical stews and potions yourself.❞ Her eyes brightened, ❝Just think about it. With your abundance of knowledge about plants and mixing drinks combined-- it suits you, it really does.❞

[pixiebones-blog1]

marbledichor:

@pixiebones

             " The Royal one is really good just letting you know. Egg on a burger is superb. “

     ❝Is it? Well, I’m glad you like it.❞ Her soft words accompanied a smile as she swayed from side to side. ❝I always quite liked the word ‘royal’... though right now, I can’t help imagining a royal family, dressed in fine silk, sitting in an elegant ballroom--dining on burgers of all things. It’s a funny thought, right?❞

[pixiebones-blog1]

reportingdead:

                 ❝   HEY  , I remember you — you read my palm or something in that diner a couple weeks back, didn’t you ?    ❞ 

               ★   @pixiebones !              

     ❝Oh--❞ Being recognized coaxed a small, tentative smile from her. She leaned forward and whispered. ❝If we speak of it quietly, then yes, that was me. That’s my secret identity, you see.❞

     Leaning back again, she absently traced the tip of her finger inside her own palm. It gave her shivers, being noticed by someone with a presence like Heather’s. ❝I remember you quite well. Deep, long lines mean that you’re clever. A clear thinker. It’s no wonder you figured me out.❞

[pixiebones-blog1]

malacians:

          Another chuckle escaped Ryan, and the smile that crossed his face stretched all the way to his ears. His eyes crinkled, and he pulled out a chair, sitting down across from Bea. 

          “Well, I’m glad to hear it’s all turned out okay, or, well, better than okay. You gonna make the Mountain Dew cereal a regular part of your day, or leave it for special occasions?” He set his chin on his hand, propping it up with an elbow on the table, and idly began to tap the table in a repeated one-two-three-four rhythm. “–By the way, s’a pretty nice piece of art you’ve got. Good stuff, miss sugar rush.”

    ❝Hmhm. Tempting as that sounds– I think I would actually die, if I indulged myself every day. Death by sugar–❞ She looked at him like they were sharing a secret, though nothing she had to say was so scandalous. She laughed and crinkled her nose. ❝Doesn’t that sound sweet?❞

    ❝Like you said earlier, it didn’t taste very good. Oh– oh, it was super neat, though, because it looked like a stew in a witch’s cauldron!❞ Bea nodded thoughtfully along to the drumming of his fingers on the table, contented to have his company. Her drawing was an afterthought in the midst of her appreciation-- she nudged it across the table so he could get a better look. No one but Ryan would praise her scribbles, bless him. ❝They’re portals to another dimension.❞

[pixiebones-blog1]

malacians:

          Ryan was barely able to stifle his laughter, but thankfully, managed to keep it down to a quiet chuckle. It seemed Bea’s shenanigans would never cease to amuse him – but then, why would he want anything else?

          “Huh. Really? Well, you’re still here, so it can’t be that bad for you.” He squinted, eyes narrowing into a look of concern. “You feelin’ okay? How’d that happen? You just randomly choose to have Mountain Dew instead of milk, or…”

     ❝I saw it in a dream, actually. And it made me think--❞ She could hardly use her crayon anymore, it was so small. The look in his eyes made her want to crawl into her shell; so she let her attention drift, intentionally, to her notebook. Her leg kicking slowed, ever so slightly, but she never surrendered her smile. 

     ❝I never experienced a proper sugar rush before.❞ Making a determined mark of finality, she set the crayon stub on the table with a ‘click’. Her masterpiece was finished. Looking up again, she leaned towards him. ❝Not until today, at least. It’s wonderful!❞

[pixiebones-blog1]

     [ @malacians | from x. ]

     ❝Oh. Well, you see--❞ Bea peeked up at him, wearing a large smile that was just as guilty as it was mischievous. The purple crayon in her hand was quickly reducing itself to a stub as she drew vigorous, overlapping circles across her notebook. Butterflies sprung to life in her stomach, she swung her legs-- she felt like dancing! ❝I kind of-- er, sort of-- already tried it. This morning.❞

[pinedappless]

do you ever just crave someone’s presence? like you would literally be happy just sitting next to them. it could be completely silent and it would just be magical to be there with them.

[pixiebones-blog1]

[pixiebones-blog1]

You: So do you have a preference for men or women?

Me: *gazing deeply into the distance* I have a preference for justice

[pixiebones-blog1]

beatrice is the mediator personality  (INFP, -A/-T)

Mediator personalities are true idealists, always looking for the hint of good in even the worst of people and events, searching for ways to make things better. While they may be perceived as calm, reserved, or even shy, Mediators have an inner flame and passion that can truly shine. Comprising just 4% of the population, the risk of feeling misunderstood is unfortunately high for the Mediator personality type – but when they find like-minded people to spend their time with, the harmony they feel will be a fountain of joy and inspiration.

Mediators are led by the purity of their intent, not rewards and punishments. People who share the Mediator personality type are proud of this quality, and rightly so, but not everyone understands the drive behind these feelings, and it can lead to isolation.

At their best, these qualities enable Mediators to communicate deeply with others, easily speaking in metaphors and parables, and understanding and creating symbols to share their ideas. Fantasy worlds in particular fascinate Mediators, more than any other personality type. Understanding themselves and their place in the world is important to Mediators, and they explore these ideas by projecting themselves into their work.

If they are not careful, Mediators can lose themselves in their quest for good and neglect the day-to-day upkeep that life demands. Mediators often drift into deep thought, enjoying contemplating the hypothetical and the philosophical more than any other personality type. Left unchecked, Mediators may start to lose touch, withdrawing into “hermit mode”, and it can take a great deal of energy from their friends or partner to bring them back to the real world.

[emotional-algebra]

The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.

W.B. Yeats (via emotional-algebra)

[pixiebones-blog1]

     ( bea asks people if she can tell them their future on slow nights at the diner. )

[pixiebones-blog1]

(bea’s kind of an enigma-- she doesn’t have any friends, but she’s nice enough to get along with passing acquaintances. she’s always been branded the ‘weird girl’-- and naturally, there’re a few stories that back up that title of hers. some true, some untrue. these are a few of the things she’s actually done:

in kindergarten she tried to jump out a second story window, thinking she’d be able to fly. fortunately she was yanked back inside and given a very stern lecture before anything bad could happen.

once on a field trip, she got lost following a butterfly because she was absolutely convinced it was leading her on an epic quest to ponyland. the class went over roll call on the bus and realized she was missing-- and everyone panicked and had to send a search party out to find her. 

she spontaneously stood up on her desk and tried singing lullabies to get a noisy grasshopper in the ceiling to be quiet during class once. ( she crashed through the ceiling during class the next day trying to rescue it-- how she even got up there, no one knows to this day. ) she was that kid who cried if she or anyone else crushed a bug. 

and finally, she accidentally set a small fire in the science lab-- mixing elaborate ‘witch potions’ with the prettiest colored fluids while the teacher wasn’t looking. 

the excitement stopped when she entered high school-- she’s a lot quieter than she used to be; blending a little more into the background. ( if anyone held a conversation with her, however, they’d see she’s still as odd as ever. ) growing up, she learned the difference between fiction and reality around the same time-- if only just a year later than most people do. (even if she acts differently) having to admit to it is kind of a depressing concept for her; and she likes it a lot when people humor her odd notions and stories.)

[morelark-thandove]

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