@fabledivine / fabledivine.tumblr.com
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welcome to my blog! i post art here, but it's also my general hangout. i love hares and fishes and the uncanny. please use #mine to look at my art! it'd mean a lot to me if you tossed me a tip over on my ko-fi and checked out my boyfriend and his work ♡
my dad likes to call the stretches of time where you’re not creating “dreaming periods” and says that they’re meant to allow you to absorb all of the beauty, life, and inspiration from the things around you so that when you’re able to create again, you will have fanned your spark back into a flame. sometimes its hard to see those moments as anything but stagnation, but he always says that they’re natural and healthy and needed—things that should be embraced rather than feared.
June Lake, August 2024
🎞️Harman Phoenix 200
Some closeups of the best graffiti I've ever seen
flower shower
i would make such a beautiful dead bird on the sidewalk
how i need him suit n all ~
cuttlefish again
My train was late. AGAIN.
haha...you are all beneath me. I'm a god compared to you. Don't you know that, you pathetic fucking worm? *trips and busts my ass falling down the stairs while saying this to you*
For the writer’s block thing, keep it up and Patty Melton?
They lingered in the vast darkness for a long, uncountable time, slowly and sleepily like midsummer haze. There was nowhere to go and no one but each other for company, and after a sleepless while, even JG was so dragged down by the silence as to become listless.
A lot of the other teams made it to the corners. When the silence crept into her, spawned fear in the cracks of her facade, springing dandelions, she could not help but to wonder what had become of them, if they were living out there while the Cows merely drifted.
She tried to keep hope. The sky didn't look much different from that of North Texas, endless horizon, if she ignored the way it was neither crammed with stars nor towering with clouds. Along the rim of the sky there was a glow, the light pollution of distant cities; as long as she kept her eyes on that, she would not sink into oblivion.
So she saw when it started to grow, a blossoming of springtime light that was too great, that would not be denied. After eternity in the darkness, it hurt their eyes, but Pat stood at the bow (she was never much of a sailor, not after she had fallen out of her granddaddy's boat on the lake as a little girl, opened her eyes in the gloomy water and seen something too vast for comprehension) and turned to look at her team, waking up slowly.
"Circle up, y'all," she said. Her voice carried, shattered the Horizon like a brick through a window. "We made it."
