Two artists of their own kind.
What a nice relationship, isn’t it.
Are they both cute together?
Mason and Devon belong to me
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₊˚・ MOST WANTED ₊˚・
✘ KAYLEY.
✘ RUBER.
✘ DEVON & CORNWALL.
Quest for Camelot (1998)
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The magnificent 18th century Georgian staircase rising through four floors at Buckland Abbey in Devon, England, was commissioned by Sir Francis Drake.
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Three separate fires would burn under the great chimney of the Tudor kitchen at Buckland Abbey in Devon, England. The 16th century kitchen is still occasionally used by volunteers from the National Trust at cookery events.
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The Great Barn at Buckland Abbey in Devon, England, was originally a Tithe Barn constructed by the Cistercians in the 14th century. Medieval monks used the barn to sort and winnow corn.
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my cringefail DND character
chaotic good dragonborn warlock
DEVON ref (Jun 2024)
DEVON (rendered in all caps when possible) • he/they • 6'8" / 203 cm • young adult
despite being officially a dragonborn, he is basically a thorny devil lol
his fey patron, Pala:
[[MORE]]
Pala ref (Jun 2024)
Pala • they/it/she • 6'6" / 199 cm • immortal; age uncertain
Pala is based on a dido longwing.
original sketches for them (Dec 2022)
we were so cringefail (Jun 2024)
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Churches of Devon: the Church of St John the Baptist, Coleton Raleigh, was built after William the Brewer acquired part of the land here from Henry I at the end of the twelfth century.
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Since I forgot to upload it before posting that doodle of Devon, welp, here is the story now! A very short one so I'ma just. Paste.
[[MORE]]Devon had not expected the desert to feel so different during the day.
Where last the sands had been tranquil and unbearably cold, now they lashed out at him, lacerated his face while the blinding sun overhead scorched his skin through his vestments. Sweat poured along his spine and his chest. His clothes, lukewarm and moist, drenched his body as though in a vat of saliva.
The thought made his nerves crawl. He didn’t want to imagine what creature existed that would be large enough to swallow him whole; and yet, with swirls of sand shrouding the vast expanse of the desert from his eyes, Devon could but dread what horrors might be able to withstand deadly heat.
He swallowed, saliva raking down his parched throat. At the very least, one thing was certain: no vampire would survive unprepared travel through such a hostile environment. In fact, even prepared, a journey without defined destination would be purely suicidal.
Devon clicked his tongue. He raised his hand to shield his eyes, lifting his gaze as high as he could without boiling his sight away. Sand sliced his cheeks and his throat, winds howling at his ears. With every beat of his heart, he considered the crunch of sand beneath his boots, the wild flapping of his cloak as he tried to keep his hood steady. He flinched when a grain of sand struck the corner of his eye, immediately doubling over to scrub it away. More sand brushed into his eye. A growl rumbled in his throat.
With heavy footsteps, his cloak wrapped tight around himself, Devon headed back towards civilization.
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A Robin Sang
This poem features another robin, again photographed in Morchard Bishop in 2025 (see previous poem ‘Imbolc, Candlemas’)
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A robin sang
from the branches of a winter tree
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His belly was as bright as the day
his breast red as the sunset
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Gracing my winter spirit
with tones of happiness.
~
‘The Robin’ comes from the collection of poems Joy of Creation which is available for purchase as…
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In the spirit of Just Do, Don’t think: today’s doodle of Devon, as I imagine him looking out over the desert of Malmern. Inspired by my own story because hell yeah (which I never shared anywhere but on PillowFort? FOR SHAME)
For once, no base was used (which is why the anatomy is off lol) but you know what I don’t care. I had fun.