A Pirate Renaissance

@perlsinc // edit – ph: @coin_operator

A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one

Nobody in your small coastal village has ever seen the Godmark that you were born with. It’s a dark russet sequence of criss-crossing lines, with a vertical arrowhead on the left and a circle on the right, just over where your brow meets your temple. Some of the traders who come down from the mountain say it looks like one of the scripts used in the hinterlands, but not a language that any of them recognize.

“If she’s got the temperament for it, she should try her luck inland,” they advise. “No point her starting a temple here if she’d find her people elsewhere, with a little searching.”

At first, your parents are reluctant to send you away. Though you’re well-behaved and diligent in your chores, you’re a sickly child with no God to worship. And besides, you’ve always been the dreamy type–inclined to lose track of time watching the path of rain droplets chasing down the window, or the fronds of an anemone as it sways in a rock pool.

Instead, they send you to the temple of the Storm to learn all you’ll need for your own God. You are happy there, for a time: making up beds and serving food to the castaways who pass through, keeping vigil at the lighthouse, burning incense and praying with the loyal widows and orphans of the drowned.

One such widow, an old, old lady, touches the mark on your forehead. “I recognise those letters. We wrote this way in the town where I grew up, way off past the mountains.”

Your heartbeat quickens. “What does it say!?”

She squints, eyes engulfed by wrinkles and hidden behind smudged glass. “A… Ar… Oh, I can’t remember how to speak it. I left before I learnt my letters properly. There was a war, you know. But I remember,” she says, mistily, “the most beautiful pink and white flowers used to grow, on the borders of the wheat fields…”

You try to ask more questions, but remembering the war distresses her, and so you speak of other things. When she’s drifted off to sleep, you get to your feet, go home and tell your parents: you are leaving in search of your God.

Put your height in the tags

teach this in schools

i guess I'm gonna throw some art up here since there's a mass exodus from the insane bird app

Con O'Neill as Cliff Costello from Cucumber !! after ripping someone's throat out with a pen, naturally

Con gives such a great performance as Cliff but don't watch the show if you don't have to. just watch the Cliff compilations ✌️

obsessed with this search result for “yearning stock photo”

i feel like i'm gonna throw up (gay and down bad)

I made Sned and Snede! I love them so much 🥰 Pattern is the Giant Snail by Crafty Intentions on Etsy!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/CraftyIntentions

I'm so happy with how these guys turned out!

A possible S2 reunion kiss?

This animation took me months to finish and then I forgot to post it here asdhfhja

(Based on that one D Tennant kiss from that Richard ii play which I can't find the gif of right now)

Izzy doing that thing with his head

Announcing the Steddyhands Long Weekend Challenge, an event dedicated to the triad of Izzy Hands, Ed Teach, and Stede Bonnet.  The event will be held May 18-21, 2023.   Attention fic writers, fan artists, creators of gif sets, manips, graphics and other fan edits here is an opportunity to challenge yourself and make something dedicated to your favorite Our Flag Means Death trio.  A choice of two prompts is being provided for each day

Please use the tag #steddyhandslongweekend in the first five tags or @steddyhandslongweekend so your posts can be easily found and reblogged. If you have questions the ask box is open. Please share and reblog this post to get the word out, and have fun!

what’s he looking at