#sainthood when

[internationalplayboysdotcom]

actually really enjoying being a frigid bitch thanks for asking

[deadrlngers]

ocs as patron saints

i was tagged by @katsigian and @ecofear to take this quiz for some of my ocs, thank you both so much!!! loved doing this sm, two things i love obsessing over: saints and ocs <3

patron saint of relics. patron saint of remembering. patron saint of holding something close. patron saint of holding on for too long. for a saint, a relic is often a part of the body, kept for some physical memento of their holiness. they are all in your hands, now: does it feel like remembrance? does it feel sanctified? are the dust and blood as precious as they're supposed to be?

patron saint of bones. patron saint of frameworks. of structures. of solidity. patron saint of things that break. patron saint of things that are left behind. the bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest has gone? what do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? who holds the bones?

patron saint of heartbreak. not of comfort. not of condolences. there is a heart and there is a fissure, a fracture, something that starts to splinter and break open. you're the patron saint of the way a heart is rent open. the way it tears itself apart. patron saint of the rift. patron saint of the gash. when they say to "open your heart" to somebody, you are the patron saint of bleeding out.

tagging (under the cut!):

@marictheirins @mojaves @ruvviks @devilbrakers @dragonaqe

@pinkfey @aezyrraeshh @shadowglens @risingsh0t @ncytiri

@baelavelaryon @kibellah @pawnguild @roguette @hexmaturgy

@tethrras @lucaanis @auricfog @thedeadthree

and anyone else who wants to do it!!

[brucelinas]

My favorite Brienne of Tarth/Joan of Arc adjacent art works

Joan of Arc (Faith) by Annie Louisa Swynnerton

Watchman, What of the Night by George Frederic Watts

Joan of Arc at the Siege of Paris by Joseph van Lerius

Joan of Arc Taken Prisoner by Rowland Wheelwright

Capture de Jeanne d'Arc by Eugène Lenepveu

Joan of Arc by George Frederic Watts

[shikai-the-storyteller]

It's still so crazy to me that Pac made it canon that Felps saw Cell maul him in prison. I wonder who he hated more in that moment — the perpetrator or the bystander

[fictionadventurer]

Hope you had a good All Saints Day!

I did, thank you for asking!

[wink-1-8-2]

Poison became a saint after their untimely death and inevitable martyrdom. Their words were printed on saint cards and lived on as prayers for the suffering and deceased of the desert, depicted with bright red hair, warm eyes, a snake and a gun.

[babisawyer]

I am asking for thoughts and prayers I had to take off my acrylics for labia friendly nails.

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Unironically i love managing things and being in charge like yes let me be in control rather than someone else

[lokh]

me listening to tegan and sara, gritting my teeth: im being sooooo normal <3

[ebitenpura]

if his avoidance of his own people keeps up the rumors surrounding Nya are going to be that he was whisked away by Tiamat like some helpless princess and only the strongest of suitors may have his hand in mating

some keeper female: come down! I have come to rescue you from the terrible wyrm!

Nya, shaking his fist from the top of a tower where Tiamat is sleeping: N E V E R

[gothboudreaux]

just like, silly little update on my life for anyone who wants to know: a few days ago my moms storage unit got auctioned off without us knowing, and we just found out today, as soon as we have the money to pay it off, so we lost literally everything in there :) her antique crystal pieces, all my books i’ve collected since childhood, furniture, blankets, literally fucking everything we ever cared about, all completely gone :) we’ve spent years breaking our backs moving that stuff around and now she has legit nothing left and idk how to comfort her bc there’s nothing i can do to fix it. she’s such a good fucking person and she doesn’t deserve this and i would break every bone in my body with a hammer if it meant she never had to be sad again and could just live a life comfortably like she deserves. so anyways, what i’m trying to say is, if anyone out there could shoot one out to the universe tonight for miss vikki, an absolute fucking Saint walking on earth, please do, because she needs it more than anyone tonight </3

[elodieunderglass]

You posted a while ago about Grant Howitt's RPG There But For The Geese of God, where the players are archangelic geese trying to shepherd Martin de Tours into sainthood by whatever means necessary; you might also be interested in

His RPG Everyone is Seagulls, where the players are a flock of 30 seagulls and you can only communicate by loudly yelling at each other what you want to do, and

Sean Bean Quest, which is a modification of his RPG Goblin Quest in which you play five Seans Bean (in series, not in parallel), trying to ensure that at least one of you survives until the end of the movie.

Thank you so so much for thinking of me. I am hanging this up in my house in a beautiful frame and adjusting it so that it’s beautiful. I am grateful for your friendship and good taste.

I should be honest though. I actually know fuckall about roleplaying games. Absolute black hole of knowledge actually. People kindly and generously sent me the goose one because it’s highly elodie-coded (and you can see why! It’s elodie reblog bait!) and I admired and reblogged accordingly in complete support of the vision. No further thoughts or opinions. HEAD EMPTY. “Haha sounds great!” I say, instantly filing it where I put the isogenic cryptography I had to learn about against my will for work and which I refused to retain in any meaningful way. My brain has simply left the building to pick flowers. “I would enjoy that it’s right up my alley,” I say, eating the bottoms of the grass blades vacantly.

I have exactly three experiences of tabletop roleplaying games ever in my life and i should write a post about them but

- single session of dnd with older guys when I was a teenager

- shepherding children through an interactive storybook in which Bug, 4, simply kept assassinating their older sibling (they were not supposed to be able to do this??)

- playing a small amount of gloomhaven: jaws of the lion, in which I became distracted by hating the whole concept of unpainted ugly gaming miniatures so much that I made my own and then. Wandered off. Apparently forever

Anyway even if it’s wasted on me these are delightful and I’m happy to admire them conceptually and share them and hang them on the wall

[petit-papillion]

Let's not forget these...

Suffering through Charles's crazy driving in the snow:

Having to eat crunchy pasta made by Charles:

Getting a car seat shoved into your legs by Charles:

Having to dye your hair red after losing a bet to Charles:

📷 @/bliss_n16

[fictionadventurer]

Supposing that a lyric poet of the new school really had to deal with such an idea as that expressed in Pope's line about Man:

"A being darkly wise and rudely great,"

Is it really so certain that he would go deeper into the matter than that old antithetical jingle goes? I venture to doubt whether he would really be any wiser or weirder or more imaginative or more profound. The one thing that he would really be, would be longer. Instead of writing,

"A being darkly wise and rudely great,"

the contemporary poet, in his elaborately ornamented book of verses, would produce something like the following:

"A creature

Of feature

More dark, more dark, more dark than skies,

Yea, darkly wise, yea, darkly wise:

Darkly wise as a formless fate.

And if he be great,

If he be great, then rudely great,

Rudely great as a plough that plies,

And darkly wise, and darkly wise."

Have we really learnt to think more broadly? Or have we only learnt to spread our thoughts thinner?

-G.K. Chesterton, Varied Types

[youaremysunshine-court]

Accidentally creating second book lore when I've barely written the finstead book

[jtl-fics]

Every day of my damn life I think about Renee being Andrew’s determined wing woman. She is doing the work, she’s listening to Andrew both on and off the medications (wild that he sounds more manic about Neil when he’s sober), she has a 14 step plan to get them to hand holding by the end of Junior year. She thinks she might manage to chip away at the world’s densest object Neil Josten by then.

Only for Andrew to call her one night and tell her “I said that I hate him, but that it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow him. I think it worked.”

She deserved a sainthood for not losing her whole shit.