spillthejam

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"You're in her DMs, I'm in her scrying orb"

Well I'm blocking you from my scrying orb, so there.

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Oh to be a medieval apothecary and have dried herbs in little jars all through my dimly-lit shop

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Heart-shaped spider web

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Rocks and moss, Skottvången Sweden.

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It only took three-hundred-and-fifteen days For rain to fall And tears to shed With only fifty days remaining did it wait The year is a fickle beast Oh, how I love thee Despise thee I am wilted in these dry summers These hale auburn autumns Ready to fling myself from my very limbs I turn my head to the heavens for the rain Much like a sunflower might to face the sun I face the clouds, and close my eyes Breathing slow, meditative, almost in prayer Begging–no, yearning–for the charge in me Above, below, around me To connect Let me hear that clap and see that flash Thunderous applause of existence Blind me with your beauty Oh, how I will weep Like the mighty willow of which I blossomed Let me roll down these hills, like thunder Over the tumbling clouds Three-hundred-and-fifteen days too late Petrichoricly drown me in this So that I might spring joy As the grass And the trees Spring But now is coming the passing of autumn Wintered and warm beneath sheets Listening to the rainfall strike Against my window do I press my head As I did for all those school-years Longing to live in the places passed by How better to know my place in the world Amidst a storm that will leave me Like ashed kindling upon the asphalt To remind – how powerful the world is

NaNoWriMo Vol. 4, 11.11.24 “11:11, Make a Wish”

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!

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pitch black at 7pm have to walk to my garden with a flashlight being attacked by bugs from all angles i need a gun

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In the early dark of November Damp in the dire dread hours When courtesy asks little more than whispers Listen to the coyote howl and feel The aching saxophone blues Awooooooooo Yarbling into the bleak black ending To them there is no end No sudden wintered reset Onward in their midnight prowls B’fore sunrise reveille awakens Sing and dance and hunt In shouts and hushed voices Beneath the balanced moon Between the snapping twigs Quiet, quiet, quiet now Lest not awake

The later bright of November Blinding in the alpine way In the dusted over quietude Damped by the bleak white The great white Where howls soften like mountains Into hills Civilized even in their duty Ahhhhwooooooo Rolling notes for rolling hills Lazy snowballs tumbling down Down, down, down they roll Tossed tail over head, tumbling Dread is the morning thoughts of night B’fore sunset closes the daily saga Over the canvassed day Leaving storied footfalls Deep, deep, deep in the wake Lest not we sleep

NaNoWriMo Vol. 4, 11.7.24 “Saving Light”

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!

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Been rewatching some of the tinkerbell movies this week so I drew a fall outfit for Vidia! Since she's the only fairy who didn't get an autumn look

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Women are pomegranates.

We will stain you bloody

if you try to tear our divine bodies apart.

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by edmund dulac (october 22, 1882 – may 25, 1953)

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Excalibur (1981) dir.: John Boorman

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Dulcie was always one of my favorite fairy designs. From her birch bakers hat to her leaf apron, the textures were so much fun! And of course she has a little tray of her famous Poppy Puff Rolls!