#may inspire people to fight against that nihilism | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trancylovecraft · 1 year ago

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So, I just met you today with the Cherry Blossom Kokushibo fic and, you know, I just fell in love with your writing

I've had this idea in my mind for a while and when I read your fanfic I just knew you were the perfect person to put it into words

May I request an Oneshot with Muzan Kibutsuji/Fem reader? So, I've imagined for a while a fanfic where Muzan encounters a female reader who suffers from albinism, having very pale skin, white hair and natural red eyes. Because she was born like that, people rumored her to be a demon (sensibility to sunlight and red eyes aggravated that), and that caused her to be isolated from all and unable to wed. She is from a noble family and that is why she's still alive, but that doesn't soothe the wound since her family treats her like an outcast.

Bitter with resentment, under the moonlight of the bedroom, she curses all of those who waste their health living mundane lives while she suffers in loneliness. Her nihilism, indifference and hate makes her unafraid of Muzan as, if she thinks he will devour her, she asks for him to at least kill her family too. Little does she know that Kibutsuji already knows her, and he is infatuated with her. (If he wants to wed her and turn her into a demon she ain't complaining, especially if their engagement is celebrated with a bit of family massacre)

This idea was inspired by spider lillies, moonlight and the fact that I'd like to imagine Muzan with someone who resembles him when he was a human (Narcisistic King would only date those who remind him of himself)

I apologise if this request is too long for your liking, I am not very good with words and simplifying something I am excited about!

- the banana split jane doe

(KNY) YANDERE MUZAN x ALBINO READER: The Light Side of the Moon

(DW, I gotchu girlie. Hope you enjoy this one!)

The sun's rays shone down onto the overgrown field.

The rays seemed to reflect off of every grass strand and every drop of dew fell from the rain the night before.

It was a beautiful day despite the heavy rain last night, So much so that in the early hours of the morning the village kids had left early to run around in the grass and play dirty. Of course they would, It was getting into the colder months as indicated by the chilling breeze running through the valley. The children had to make use of every wake of sunlight before the snow came in.

So out in the field there was a good group of kids in the dozens play fighting and playing tag, Not giving mind to the dirtying of their kimono's and haori's. Their laughter rang out and bounced around like they were in a cave.

"Stupid.." [F/N] muttered, A bitter resentment lacing her voice like venom as she looked out at all the kids running wild in the valley.

She sat perched under the big zelkova tree overlooking the entire valley. It's branches were large and it's leaves were enough in number to filter out any sunlight passing through it, A perfect condition for the girl.

[F/N] sat right up against the tree for support as she brushed her hair with her fingers. Her locks were pure white, So was her skin. It wasn't like the kids who had pale skin nor was her hair light like the occasional person with a story, But instead something much more extreme.

When [F/N] was born she was diagnosed with albinism. According to the doctor who delivered her, Her mother had screamed in disgust at the sight of her while her father had demanded to know who she cheated on him with.

Her father wanted to kill her, He couldn't stand to look at such a horrid child. He wanted to throw her out into the river and hope nature took its course, However, He was fortunately stopped by the mere fact that they were noble blood and had already told the village-people the birth was successful. Killing her now would only severely damage reputation. Therefore letting her live.

From that day forward she was considered bad luck.

The local folklore was that albinism was a curse from an ancestor to atone for wrongdoings done in their time. It was an omen of death, Also known as: Something to avoid.

And the locals took it to heart. Every time [F/N] would walk down the street, Every time she'd go out to the market she'd get stares, Heckled and harassed her when she walked. Suddenly the prices at the market would go up, Just for her.

It didn't help that the consequences that came with the defect definetly made it seem like a curse. Due to the complete lack of melanin anywhere the sun scorched her skin like fire, Leaving her needing to take special precaution when leaving the house. Her eyesight wasn't the best either, Though it was much better than the normal person with albinism she still did have trouble seeing at times.

The past two months didn't help her case either, With the recent mutilations of the-

A rock slammed into the side of [F/N]'s head, Making her double over onto the grass. The sound of a couple children cheering rang out from down the hill. She hissed in pain.

"Take that, Demon!" One of the boys said, Having been the one who threw the rock. [F/N] clutched the side of her head where the impact hit. She could feel the early gathering of blood start to stain her pristine kept hair.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" [F/N] screamed.

Pushing her body back up to look at the group of kids with an absolutely furious expression. The kids stood strong however, Only taking a few meek steps towards her.

"Leave our families alone!" Another one shouted, A girl this time. Her face was angry too, Only as much as a young child's could look. The other kids who weren't involved in the group stopped playing to watch the scene.

The mutilations, Of course. They started around two months ago with the Furukawa family. It was awful, One of their elderly neighbours had picked up a rotten smell and had asked her son to go check on them. Of course they came across both the mother and the father's pieces spread across the Livingroom.

[F/N] was familiar with the two, They had often been one of the more outspoken village people about their dislike of her and a few days before had shoved her aside while she was walking around.

She knew she should of shown some kind of emotion at the news of their slaughter, But to be honest, [F/N] didn't care. If anything, She felt a small tinge of relief.

They weren't there to harass her anymore, Or make off-hand remarks. For that she was glad.

"I never touched your stupid families!" [F/N] yelled back at her. Her deep vermillion eyes were filled with disgust like she was staring down an insect she could crush under the sole of her sandals.

"Liar!" Another one of the kids stepped out from behind the small group. He wasn't one of the bigger ones, He was in fact rather scrawny with unkempt hair. But [F/N] recognised him as the Furukawa's youngest kid.

"M-My parents died because of you.." He muttered, Looking down at his shoes unable to meet [F/N]'s eyes. His hands clenched into a determined fist, His body shook with vigour.

"They were great people! You had no right to take them away from me. Just because the other adults don't see you as the demon you are doesn't mean we don't!" He yelled back at her. The other kids joined in with supportive remarks following his speech.

"One day, When I get older I'll get revenge for them. I'll get re-" A rock slammed straight into his open jaw.

The kid screamed and fell to the floor with a loud thud!

The other kids yelped and backed away from the boy, Who was coughing up teeth and blood. He writhed around on the ground groaning in pain.

[F/N] was standing up now. She had picked up the rock that was thrown at her and flung it right back at the kid. She stood there seething in a fighting stance.

"Demon? I'll show you demon!" [F/N] yelled. She swiftly grabbed another rock and hurled it straight at the girl who chose to speak out, Hitting her straight on the forehead with a sick crunch.

The previously silent kids amplified into an uproar.

Screaming echoed around in the valley as all the kids tried to get away from the ensuing fight. [F/N] kept picking up rocks from the small hill and hurling them at the group. The kids who started the fight tried to haul away the two kids who got the worst of it, Picking them up by the arms trying to drag them away from the attacks.

"DON'T YOU EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN OR IT'LL BE YOU NEXT! I SWEAR TO THE GODS IT'LL BE YOU!" [F/N] screamed, Her voice hitting high's that could be heard from the village.

The kids had gotten a good distance away from her now but that didn't stop [F/N] from throwing more stones.

"YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?!" She yelled after them, Raising another rock to throw.

But by the time she had finished they had all scampered away back home.

She was left standing on top of the hill, Under the shade of the big zelkova tree, Looking out over the now empty and desolate field which had such a lively energy before but now was cold and lost.

She was panting, Letting out heavy breaths of air that turned into mist in the cold climate. The rock in her hand she was about to throw lowered, Dropping it to the ground. She exhaled for a final time, Letting all the anger and rage dissolve into mild annoyance she finally relaxed.

"Dumb kids.." She huffed. Shaking her head she leaned down to pick up the thick birch handle of her parasol.

Grabbing it she extended the blue patterned canopy, Making sure it covered her form she dusted herself off. Settling the parasol handle on her shoulder she set off out into the valley, Dreading her walk back home.

☆♡☆

"That was a horrible thing you did"

[F/N]'s mother stood a few feet away from her, Circling around her like a predator yet keeping a good enough distance to test the acidic waters. [F/N] felt her teeth grind against each other and her palms get sweaty.

Of course, The kids from earlier had ran back to her house to snitch on her to her mother. Well, Not the kids but the parents of the girl and the eldest brother of the Furukawa family being rightfully angry.

[F/N] was made aware of this when she came home at the first sign of the sun setting. Her mother was perched on the large porch of their family home waiting for [F/N]'s arrival, From the first time [F/N] spotted her mother she could of mistaken smoke from coming out of her ears.

It was frustrating, While she figured her mother would find out eventually it didn't take anything away from the experience. Though, She supposed she was lucky.

Her father being a noble and very highly profiled swordsman meant he was disciplined, And it also meant he expected that from all his children. Luckily enough though he was out on a very long business trip. If he was here, [F/N] knew that she'd get more than a serious lecture.

"So what? They attacked me first, It's only karma what they got" [F/N] responded, Her voice trying to stay levelled and calm yet shook at the seams. Her mother scoffed at that.

"They're just kids, [F/N]! They don't know any better and you should have taken that into account" Her mother exclaimed incredulously, Taking a few prompted steps up towards her daughter with purpose.

"Well maybe they'd know better if they're parents were still around to teach them better, Not that its my fault like they think though, Right?" [F/N] spat, Her voice venomous and the sheer disregard for the weight of her words went through her mother like a static shock.

"How fucking dare you.." Her mother whispered, Her voice full of disbelief at her daughters words leaving her jaw agape and eyes wide.

"Well I mean, The parents were already shitty people to begin with so I suppose that whoever ripped them apart did the kids a favour-"

SLAP!

[F/N]'s monologue was cut short by the hand connecting hard to the side of her cheek. [F/N] yelped out and stumbled back trying to catch her balance.

The hit had landed roughly at the side leaving only a single burst of a painful red on her monochromatic get-up.

"Your ideology is absolutely disgusting, How bloody dare you speak about the dead like that? You don't have any right to say that about anyone, Young lady!" Her mother yelled at her, Only about a foot away from her face.

[F/N] blinked away the tears from the pain and instantly snapped back.

"I'm saying what nobody else has the guts to! Just because you're all cowards and ignorant bastards doesn't mean you get to take it out on me!" [F/N] screamed back at her mother, Getting up into her face.

"You kee-"

While speaking, Her mothers hand shot out to grab [F/N]'s shoulder but her wrist was snatched by the younger girl, Who held it with an iron grip cutting off the older woman's speech.

"Don't you dare lay another hand on me.." [F/N] hissed. Her face seemed to be etched with a wild kind of rage like a feral dog, The single action of her mother making the anger so clear to anyone who could see.

Her mother, Being a much older woman than her daughter had much more brittle bones. The grip on her wrist being sore and painful on her old skin as she tried to pull away from her daughters grasp.

Realising what she was doing [F/N] let go of her mother, Who staggered a good few feet back from her assailant.

[F/N] mumbled a small yet sour apology and marched off towards the door out of the main Livingroom.

As she opened the sliding door and stepped out she heard her mother call out back to her.

"Y-You go up to your room and stay there, Young lady. Only come down once your ready to apologise!" She heard her mothers weak voice call out to her as she shut the door.

"I know!" [F/N] replied without looking back at her.

The door finally closed to leave her in the dim hallway, The only light shone from behind the Livingroom door leaving the entire hallway almost impossible to see in. [F/N] stood still behind the door, Making no move to head to her room. She looked down at her feet to contemplate her situation.

"Really? Hitting our mother? You've reached a new kind of low, Haven't you [F/N]?" A voice called out a little way down the hall.

[F/N] jerked her head up to the source of the voice and groaned.

Her younger brother, Juro, Stood at the end of the hall seemingly just came down the stairs. His head was held high and the usual smug grin lay planted on his face as always, He had his arms folded across his chest and his entire figure radiated false superiority.

[F/N] was the oldest of the five children her parents had conceived. Juro was the second oldest by only about five years apart in birth. [F/N] supposed that the reason they had such a big gap in age was due to the looming fear of their parents producing another demon child.

Though when they did give birth to Juro and found out he was a regular child compared to their monster of an eldest, [F/N] knew how much he'd be absolutely spoiled rotten, Which matched his personality like a pair of gloves.

It gave him a rather annoying superiority complex, With all the spoiling and being the one destined to become the head of their families clan and wealth you could probably see how it got to his head.

However it didn't stop [F/N] from being distasteful in behaviour towards him, The nasty expression on her face evident of that.

"Oh get off my case, Like you really give a damn." [F/N] scoffed, Straightening out her back to reach her full height.

"Of course I 'give a damn'. It's our mother and one of the figure heads of this clan, You really should be more respectful to your elders. Why mother keeps you around elludes me" Juro replied, Making sure to drawl out every condesending syllable to its full potential.

[F/N] knew exactly why her mother and father kept her around: They couldn't get rid of her. Their original plan was to marry her off, It didn't matter if it was to a nobleman or a commoner to them. The only thing that did was getting her to leave.

Though it imploded on itself when they realised no one would take her, Both her attitude and her looks were a big enough deterrent. Great for her but bad for her parents.

"Ah, Right. Because she shows such an amazing amount of respect towards me, I honestly feel so awful about it" [F/N] gasped, Sarcasm dripped from every word and fell like acid making Juro's eyebrow twitch.

He moved forward a few steps, Sizing her up as he went.

"Well the difference is that mother has a reason to not respect you, I mean come on, It's obvious. Maybe if you do treat her with the right attitude then maybe she might start seeing you in a different way" Juro said the last part as if he was trying to contain laughter, Like he had just heard the most offensive joke in the world he just couldn't laugh at.

[F/N] felt her fists clench and tighten to bare her knuckles.

"But with such sour attitude I do suppose it would be impossible for you, Wouldn't it? Dear sister?" Juro whispered as he got up into her face. Only a couple inches away from her now he carefully eyed her down, Waiting for one single move.

[F/N]'s teeth grinded, Her tightened palms grew sweaty and itched for the offensive attack. She wanted to punch him, She wanted to attack him and wipe that disgusting, Grimy smirk off of his arrogant little face.

However, [F/N] just sighed and let her fist drop loose into straightened palms. She knew what he was doing, She wasn't going to give into his taunt. She's had enough for tonight.

"Back off, Juro." [F/N] simply warned. Turning away from his expression now filled with annoyed disappointment she headed off towards the stairwell at the end off the hallway.

As she got up the steps she heard his smug voice call after her.

"Such a lovely chat with you as always!"

☆♡☆

The sound of childlike laughter resonated throughout the house, Despite the muffled sound of it [F/N] could hear the weight of it even from behind the thick walls of her room.

The pale moonlight of the night had illuminated the unlit room and flooded the area with a subtle glow, The silk blinds danced along with the soft breeze lifting into the room.

Her bedroom was situated at the very top of the large family home, The third floor. The massive house was large and sat at the edge of the village they lived in, Overlooking the entire town yet having enough distance to be considered a private property separate from the other houses.

The house was home to three floors in total. The first was the main area home to the kitchen, Livingroom and general activities such as a drawing room, Dining hall and her fathers very own training room.

The second was housing all of the bedrooms. All of her siblings, Parents and even the guest sleeping quarters were located there. It also even held a small room for their families servants.

And finally, The third was by far the loneliest of the trio.

It was much smaller compared to the other floors and was the newest built. It only housed a single hallway and [F/N]'s own separate bedroom which made up the majority of the floor.

Usually the prospect of having an entire floor to themselves would entice and excite anyone. The privacy and spacious area would seem like a blessing.

And yes, [F/N] agreed. It was a blessing alright. She was granted privacy from the struggle that was her family, It gave her time on her own to be herself.

But she also had to admit: It had it's downsides. Another laugh sounded out from downstairs on the first floor. The movements of the hairbrush on [F/N]'s light locks halted, Just for a moment as she listened to the joyous voice of her youngest sister.

They were having dinner, It seemed. [F/N] didn't apologise and had no intention to, So she was forced to reside in her room.

She continued to comb through her hair, Feeling the tug of the movements as she listened to the laughter down below cease.

[F/N] scoffed at it and tried to take her mind away and focus on the strokes of the brush. Though she couldn't help but trail off to the infuriating scenario happening downstairs.

Since her father was away her mother was probably the one to cook the food tonight, She always did instead of the family servants, Her own personal recipe of a Sukiyaki stew pot that she made to comfort her kids while their dad was away.

Her kids.

A mother is suppose to "love" her kids unconditionally, And in that aspect she certainly did, All except when it came to her. [F/N] knew her mother had tried at least, But it came off in the way you'd treat an unwelcomed guest. Trying to give due respect yet wanting them out of your house as soon as possible.

[F/N] had figured a long time ago that it was better to be treated with ire than pity and had given up all sense of courtesy towards her mother, Continuing to this day.

A faint tug pulled in her chest as another roar of laughter came up from downstairs, They seemed to be having a good time.

[F/N] finally set down her brush onto the vanity. The small sound of the wood hitting the desk seemed so much louder in the large area of her room.

[F/N] supposed she did need to give her mother some credit, She was the one to let her have the single room at the very top of the house (Even if it was to keep her away from the rest of her family)

But the room seemed so.. Empty.

[F/N] stared into the vanity mirror, The light surface of the glass reflecting her own pale visage back at her.

She trailed a hand across her features to examine for any blemishes, Pushing back any stray strands of hair from her face and pulling them behind her ear. Staring deep into the clear colour of her cardinal rose eyes she assessed their problems, And she found none.

When times like these came about [F/N] often pondered about why people didn't like her more. She was beautiful, Stunning, Exotic even to the disgusting drunk men that passed her by on the moonlit walks.

So why even if some drunkards could see her beauty why couldn't the locals and her own family see that too instead of the cursed child from a close-to-god family?

It couldn't be her attitude, That was just a by-product of their own treatment toward her. So why? She was born this way, She couldn't change how she looked, She should of been adored.

Yet all the locals, All of her beloved family, All of the suitors that her parents had tried to ship her off to had only a single look at her before rejecting her whole.

One day, She promised herself. One day she'd get back at them, She didn't know how or when or even if she could but she knew that one day, They would regret treating her like a bug under their foot.

As her mind wandered she started to realise that maybe it wasn't the room that was empty.

A sudden knock echoed out, Crashing [F/N]'s train of thought.

[F/N] jerked her head over to the main door of her room. Getting up from the small pillow she sat on she moved quietly to the entrance. Turning the knob and opening the door she was met face to face with one of her families servants.

"Your mother has requested me to bring you your dinner" The servant said, Robotic and monotone in voice as he presented her a bowl of udon. [F/N] paused at the sight of it.

"..It's not Sukiyaki stew pot.." She mumbled.

"Correct, Ma'am" He replied in short.

[F/N] was silent as she carefully took the small bowl from his hands, She barely noticed the small bow and the closing of the door before it was entirely shut.

[F/N] examined the soggy noodles and small tempura bits in the bowl, A barely generous helping.

She 'tched at the sight but figured she was lucky enough to even get dinner in the first place.

Turning around she walked over to the other set of double doors at the end of the room, Food in one hand she pushed the door open to reveal the small balcony outside. Stepping out into the night's cool air she took a deep breath in.

The laughter was no longer audible once she shut the door, Only replaced by the sound of cicada hums and the clacking of tiles when she clambered up onto the slanted roof of the house.

[F/N] sat down on the tiles and looked out onto the sea of village houses down below, The faint lantern light from the village was warm and inviting in contrast to the inhabitants, Of whom were out doing their nightly patrol's in watch for another mutilation.

However the scene didn't interest her in the slightest, Instead it was the moon which seemed to hang over her entire world.

It glowed brighter than any lantern the village people could spark, Yet the light was never overwhelming or stung her eyes in the slightest. Instead the soft rays of moonlight had only provided comfort.

[F/N] didn't know why it brought such solace, Maybe its because it never burnt her skin like the sun did. The moon replaced it in that way, The night time became her daytime, When she felt most lively: Herself.

She often came up onto the roof to feel that way, Every time without missing a single night she'd climb up onto the roof and speak to the moon for hours like it was an old friend. Or maybe just to stare and admire the pale light of its beauty.

But to be fair, [F/N] never felt much at all.

When she did it was always a constant state of annoyance, Anger or resentment. The feeling the moon brought her was still very unfamiliar to her, But very much welcome. She barely understood anything other than the undying resentment, Maybe it was a sad existence but to be fair she barely understood sadness either.

She realised the udon in her hands was growing cold. Reaching behind her for the pair of chopsticks she noticed something else a little further ahead from them, Lying on the roof.

She raised an eyebrow and squinted her eyes to examine it closer, But they instantly shot out once she realised what it was.

It was a single bouquet of flowers, Red, Beautiful roses sprung from the carefully arranged bunch.

[F/N]'s breath hitched in her throat, Her whole body seemed to clench up at even a small sight of it. A bouquet of roses? Who could of left those here? They couldn't be for her, Could they?

She set down her bowl of udon carefully beside her, Eyeing the bouquet like it was bound to attack her yet it didn't stop her quick crawl over to its side.

Nor did it stop the almost desperate grab she made for the neck of the bunch, Pulling it close to her chest she finally noticed the small tag sticking out from the flowers reading: To [F/N] Shiratori.

She felt the concentrated joy explode inside her like bottle rockets, The absolute euphoria flooded her senses as she felt hot blood rise to her cheeks, Giving colour to them yet said no pain.

The roses were absolutely beautiful, Carefully handpicked as the petals seemed soft and fresh. She grinned wildly, They must of took great thought while preparing it.

She couldn't help but shove her face into the roses to inhale their scent, The sweet yet rich aroma circled in her mind. They truly were the best of the bunch.

But when she pulled away she noticed she had neglected a small envelope from where the bouquet was sitting before, Hiding the envelope below it.

Her lips quirked. First the roses, Now a letter? She giggled slightly, Imagining whoever it was is a real romantic.

Extracting the envelope and gently opening it's folds she pulled the paper from its cover and unfolded it to view the contents.

Dear, [F/N]. My one and only.

Ever since I saw you on this rooftop, I knew you were the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I hope one day we will get to meet, One day in the near future.

Love, Your admirer.

It was such a simple letter, Only two simple sentences of sweet but common flatter words yet once she had finished the final word the fireworks of a foreign emotion burst inside her.

She knew it was something akin to euphoria, An exhilaration that made her blood rush to her cheeks and heat up her entire system in the cold nights air, Yet no matter how hard she tried she couldn't identify the rhapsody of song inside her.

Though she couldn't deny, It felt good. Better than she's ever felt in a very long time.

[F/N] embraced the letter with her whole body, Curling up around it to try and squeeze out more of the intoxicating feel, An addictive high.

The letter and bouquet, Whoever may have left it there, Wherever they may be, They must really really like her.

☆♡☆

The yelling of her family woke [F/N] from her peaceful slumber.

Her heavy eyelids were wrenched open as she writhed around atop the roof tiles, Bothered by the loud intrusion.

Once she finally let the light hit her pupils she realised her mistake. She was in the light, The sunlight was touching her skin.

[F/N] yelled out and instantly scuffled down off the roof, Swinging open the door she almost lunged into the safety of her house shade as she fell onto the floorboards.

Her skin burned and tinged lightly. Examining her skin she found the beginnings of a mild sunburn on her arms, The red welts fizzling up into her hands all the way to her forearms. Her light kimono doing nothing to shield her from the UV rays.

She had fallen asleep on the roof and had neglected the danger of doing so, In her panic [F/N] chided herself for her stupid mistake.

Yet outside it seemed like it was just the break of dawn, The orange to yellow hues painting the sky signalled the early hours of the morning. She was lucky that the noise woke her up in time, Otherwise her problem would be much worse.

Scrambling over to her vanity mirror to examine the full entirety of her body she gasped on sight as soon as she saw her reflection in the polished glass. Her face.

At least a good third of face was covered in red hot boils and welts, The sore burn crept up from her left cheek over to her chin, Reaching as far as her right side too.

"No.. No, No, No.. Please, No!" She yelled, [F/N]'s eyes almost popped out of her sockets with tears starting to form at the corners. She trailed her equally burnt hands across the scorch marks in disbelief at what she was seeing.

A sudden rapid pounding at her door knocked her out of her stupor.

"[F/N]! Open the door, Now!" It was her mother's voice. The alarm in her voice seemed to resonate in [F/N] to give her a grasp of their unknown situation.

"Jeez.. Hold on!" [F/N] called out towards her door, Yet she saw the handle start to turn. A spike in her adrenaline shot up.

"I'm getting dressed, Damn it!" [F/N] screamed, Her voice as hoarse as a fourty-year chain-smoker. The turning of the knob stopped as soon as she let the words leave her mouth.

"Fine, But make it quick! And make sure to put on something nice." Her mother yelled back at her, A small tint of exasperation lacing her tone yet her footsteps leaving down the hallway sounded determined in their path.

[F/N] cursed. Bullets of sweat rolled down her face and stung the burns where they lay. She had no idea what she was going to do. Rapidly sliding out drawers in her vanity to find anything of use, To no avail.

Next she went to her closet. Swinging the old wooden doors open she shifted through her different coloured kimonos. Pulling through the silk and cotton she found nothing of use except for a thickly woven navy kimono that was oversized and could cover her body nice and neatly.

Despite that there was still the issue of her face, The burn marks were so noticeable you could see them from miles away. There was nothing that could hide her scorches from the sun-

Her hand bumped up against something.

[F/N]'s temple furrowed. Reaching into the back of dark, Spacious cupboard she gripped onto the object she felt was made of straw.

With a tug and a pull she managed to haul out the hefty object, Revealing it to be her old uchikatsugi.

It was a gift from the town's doctor before he passed away from old age a few years ago, [F/N] remembered him fondly even though he was never really around.

He still did greet her with a smile and a handshake every time they met, It wouldn't be wrong to describe him as a father figure either.

Though as always, Good things didn't last. They never did.

[F/N] had no time to dwell on that last thought, Her relief was a much more appealing distraction.

The uchikatsugi, A large straw hat for noblewomen with a large silky veil to cover her face. Back when she got it, It was way too big for her to use with her small body so she stored it in her closet for a later use, [F/N] supposed she just forgot about it.

She sat the large hat down on her head, And with a little shimmying to get it properly down it fit her head like a glove to a hand.

Once she finished changing into her dark cerulean kimono, She was ready to go downstairs and see whatever it was her family was making such a ruckus about.

As she took careful strides down the creaky steps of the stairs she saw her mother impatiently tapping her foot at the bottom. [F/N], Before making herself known, Fixed up her appearance to make sure nothing was showing free.

Once she was pleased, [F/N] cleared her throat to which her mother jerked her head around to her 'daughters' direction.

"Ah, Finally. I was wondering what took you so long." Her mother remarked, Letting her folded arms drop to her sides. [F/N] huffed at the passive aggressive tone yet felt alleviation, Her clothes worked, Her mother couldn't see a thing.

"Had to find a good enough outfit for such an important event, At least from the sounds of it. Why am I up this early anyways?" [F/N] yawned, Still not quite tuned in despite her earlier shock.

"There was another one." Her mother responded quickly, Turning away.

"Another what?" [F/N] queried, Tad annoyed at her mothers elusive behaviour.

"Another mutilation, [F/N]." Her mother exasperated, Swiftly turning back to look at her with an expression that just oozed the word obviously.

[F/N] stopped, Mulling over the information.

"Alright, Okay that's bad but why does this concern me?" She asked after a moment.

Her mother shook her head to her daughters persistence.

"This is a village matter, [F/N]. Something we are apart of" Her mother explained, Treating [F/N] like a curious toddler repeatedly asking why.

"Unfortunately.." [F/N] muttered.

"Just get a move on downstairs now, Swiftly now.." Her mother said, Quickly pulling [F/N]'s shoulder and hushing her down the second set of stairs. [F/N] shrugged of her mothers firm hand, Telling her she'll go down herself.

Settling her hat comfortably onto her head she headed downstairs, Dreading future events.

☆♡☆

The early morning air was cold and fresh as it weaved through the tall houses of the village.

Usually in the mornings with the first break of dawn you could hear the chirping of the crows harking in the early crowds off to work. You could see the townsfolk head to the markets and children run about in the streets, Laughing and roughhousing with each other like siblings together.

But today was different.

The echo of crows on the village walls were silent now. The children who use to run about in the streets buck wild were now pulled close to their parents, A worried smile replacing their usual carefree faces.

[F/N] stood away back from the large crowd gathered in the centre of the village, Everyone from the village was here. The elders, The working class to the babies were summoned together in the village, All quietly chattering amongst themselves.

She observed the crowd in distain, What mundane people leading such plain lives. They They wasted their lives in the sun, Taking the warmth for granted working nine to fives and coming home to their stupid little families, Accomplishing nothing big in their lives yet they boasted of grandeur while she stood standing away from them, Suffering from the pain of her sunburn.

She huffed at the thought.

[F/N] didn't stand with her family, She only watched them as they made their way to the front of the front of the crowd of which immediately quieted down at the sight of them

[F/N]'s father was considered the head of the village and therefore took care of all the important matters.

However since he was absent it was up to her mother to take care of her husbands duties while he was away

"Hello everybody, It's good to see you all out here today." Her mother called out her opening statement. She was backed by the other four of her siblings, Juro standing especially besides her.

Despite her hello's, Nobody answered her.

"I suppose you all know why you were called here, Regarding the death of the Hagihara family." Her mother continued.

Hagihara, That rang a bell in [F/N]'s mind.

Her eyes widened in recognition, The neurons connecting in her mind as the face of the little girl she had hit with a rock entered into her head.

"If you're not already aware of what happened, Early in the morning screams were heard from their family home. On investigation they were found.. Killed inside their Livingroom.. No survivors" Her mother announced.

A few shocked gasps ran from the crowd, The chatter from before sparked up like a lighter on the fuel of information. However their talking was calmed by her mother rather loudly clearing her throat.

"Yes, Yes. I understand this is horrible information, And I know a good lot of you were close with the family and I do offer my sincerest apologies." Her mother said. Her voice filled with a genuine sympathy, Showing it by giving a few select nods towards some of the crowd.

[F/N] didn't listen to her mother however, The information was still fresh in her mind.

This information should have left a lack of feeling in [F/N]'s chest, And regarding the deaths it did.

But the coincidence of it felt like a static shock to a dead heart. First it was the Furukawa's, They were particularly nasty to [F/N]. When they fell victims to the night veiled attacks she had felt glad despite how morbid it was, They weren't there to harass her anymore.

However now it was the Hagihara's, Only yesterday did they get negatively involved with her after the rock incident and now they were dead.

No. No, It was just a coincidence.

Even though they did hold hatred against her so did all of the other villagers. If the mutilations were connected to her then the mutilations would be targeted towards more outspoken villagers, Even if it was because of the rock incident other villagers would of been targeted before her. Her family would be targeted before them.

Even so, She needed to make sure.

[F/N] was barely listening when she quickly took off away from the crowd down an alleyway. Slipping away from the group with ease as their attention was still heavily focused onto her mother, Who was still continuing on with her speech. She couldn't bare to be surrounded by such waste of flesh anymore.

She picked up pace once she realised she was far enough away, Managing to navigated the rock base of the village with proficiency and quickly coming to a stop once she stood in front of the targeted house. Luckily it was located on the other side of the village, She could make as much noise as she needed.

Once she finally stopped she could notice the broken down door almost instantly. The village houses were regularly built together so this was striking to her. The shoji door was splintered into pieces of wood and sheet, Tiny pieces.

[F/N] swallowed a lump in her throat, Realising the weight of what she was doing. But it didn't stop her from taking strides forward, Past the destroyed bits of door and into the house where she saw the real carnage.

The Livingroom was absolutely destroyed.

Walls were shook and large scratch marks decorated them like paintings. Furniture was flung about and lay toppled across the entire main room like a wild beast was let loose, A bear, A rhino. Something of that size could of done this, Yet she could tell it was entirely human design.

The room was completely in the dark, No sunlight shown through which let [F/N] take her uchikatsugi off to get a better look.

Despite all of the wreckage its the fact that the room was coloured head to toe in red, That is what sent a feeling of dread crawl up [F/N]'s back.

The blood was stained on table cloths, Floors, Wooden walls. Anything that could be stained was drenched in the now-dry ichor of red. Thankfully the bodies weren't here anymore, Most likely hauled off to get cremated.

The singe of the scent of blood itched at the tip of [F/N]'s nose as she took a few more cautious steps inside, Carefully avoiding the debris as she finally made her way into the centre of the Livingroom.

The whole place just radiated fear and destruction, So much so that it felt like a cold hand was resting on her shoulder when she looked out at the scene.

Her eyes shot up.

She jerked her whole body around and stumbled back like a shock to her system, She lost her balance and fell backwards.

"Careful there." The smooth voice belonged to a man, Who caught her once she fell backwards.

His strength was commendable as he only laid a single hand on her back to keep her supported.

[F/N] was breathing heavily, Loud gasps of air from the sheer fright the man gave her. He gently lifted her up to her feet, Making sure to steady her.

"I apologise if I gave you a fright there, I do have a habit of being a quiet walker" He explained with a courteous smile.

"Yeah.. You do.." That was all [F/N] could say, Her breath still taken away but not from the fall as she laid her eyes on the mans face.

The man was pale, Deathly pale. While [F/N] was as white as a sheet from her condition it looked like he was sickly and withering, Yet the look seemed to compliment his bone structure. His dark wavy locks shaped his face and came down to his sharp jawline, Perfectly brushed and trimmed.

However it was his eyes that struck [F/N] the most, The same ruby irises that she had harboured stared right back at her. Even through the darkness of the room she could see the vividness of the red through the suffocating black.

"..Are you alright?" He asked. [F/N] didn't even realise she was staring before he snapped her out of it.

"Yes, Yes. I'm fine, Thank you." She said, A hint of practiced resentment laced her voice. A built-up tactic to protect herself. But the suspicion was warrented however, The clean cut black suit vest with golden coloured lacing was clue enough to tell her he wasn't from here.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, Resting her hands onto her hips. Her eyes were locked onto his own, Searching for any sign of deception.

The man simply let out a breath of air.

"I'm here to this village on business reasons, I was just passing through when I saw the door broken down. I'm just here to make sure everything is alright." He explained, A light carefree tone in his voice.

"My name is Tsukihiko, I travelled here from Tokyo" Tsukihiko added after a moment.

[F/N] carefully examined his body language for any sign of him lying, Any twitch of the hand or quirk of the lips but she came up empty handed. She had no reason not to believe him.

"Okay then, Tsukihiko.." She drawled, Still cautious of him "Well since you obviously don't know, There's been a string of murders going on in this village for a long while now. You really shouldn't be in here" She said.

"May I ask why you are here then? No offense, But you don't look like an investigator or any kind of authority, Miss." Tsukihiko said yet his tone sounded near playful if it wasn't for his dignified self.

[F/N] felt her tensed shoulders deflate, He got her there.

"..None of your business" She retorted, But her previous aversion had dissolved into a weak huff. "What's an investigator suppose to look like anyways?" [F/N] mused.

"Usually not like a beautiful noblewoman such as yourself, The one's I've seen tend to be a bit more.. Lacking in that department" Tsukihiko replied, As if what he said held absolutely no weight at all.

But that wasn't true to [F/N], The words held so much weight that it squeezed down at her heart. That same, Unfamiliar euphoric feeling she felt holding the flowers kept rushing out of the compressed heart and filling her system once again.

Did he really see her beauty? Or was it a way to strengthen out a deal with a noble family's daughter? If so then the joke would be on him. But he wasn't that far off from her, They were both pale and shared the same wine-stained eyes. Maybe he did understand her beauty. The mere thought of it seemed to clench her heart tighter.

However, It was stopped by a single missed heartbeat.

The sunburn, She still had the sunburn on her skin. Her uchikatsugi still lain slack in her left hand. [F/N] felt her hands suddenly grow clammy and her lungs take in a sharp breath, A quick spike in adrenaline made her entire body freeze up.

Tsukihiko seemed to notice her realisation, Somehow understanding her sudden panic he gently rested a hand onto the girls cheek.

"I mean my words, I'm not quite fond of the sun either." Tsukihiko said, That deep voice ringing soft in the girls ear.

The hand on her cheek should of been warm, But instead of the expected body heat coming from him there was a cold chill that ran down her from his touch.

It felt nice on her sunburn, It seemed to cool down the itchy feel of heat simmering in her skin and instead made it feel like a early summer breeze. [F/N] in response seemed to soften down and lean into the cold, Only a little bit.

"Seriously? People here seem to enjoy the sun a lot, You disliking it would be a first" [F/N] mumbled absentmindedly, Her gaze trailing off to some unknown point of the room. "How'd you know I didn't like the sun anyways?"

"A good guess, I suppose. You have albinism, Correct? It's only natural to have a resentment towards the sun when it sears your skin, I have a particularly terrible condition myself so I suppose I can empathise" Tsukihiko explained.

His words brought [F/N]'s eyes back to his own, Their shared eyes meeting together. Ones searching for any kind of lie while the others looked back with only the sincerest of truth's, At least from what [F/N] could tell anyways.

She felt a sudden sense of an unrecognisable feeling.

Not like the one she had before when it felt like fireworks, But instead one that felt like a rope was tied between the two. Like a single string had suddenly appeared just from his words, A sudden connection.

Connection? That sounded right, At least she thought so.

"..I see. You don't seem to have albinism, So what's your condition anyways?" [F/N] queried. While the man was pale and had the same red eyes she had, It couldn't of been albinism. His hair was a natural noir and his skin still held a very tiny bit of melanin.

[F/N] saw his lips quirk, It wasn't noticeable, Only a quick twitch before they were back to their usual smile. It almost raised an eyebrow.

"..It's not a specific illness that has been diagnosed however the symptoms do include a rather harsh weakness to sunlight." He said.

Thats strange, [F/N] thought. Tsukihiko was only wearing a suit vest, Black dress slacks and a clean white blouse. He had no form of sun protection like [F/N]'s kimono or uchikatsugi. It was weird, And [F/N] wasn't going to let it go for a second.

"Really? Then how did you get here without something like a parasol, Or any kind of protection?" She asked, Her guard raised up once again in light of the new information.

Tsukihiko's guard followed with [F/N]'s. His shoulders stiffened up and the smile on his face seemed just a tad bit more strained than it did before.

"Well luckily due to-"

"[F/N]!" A sudden scream cut through the start of his words. [F/N] gasped, She recognised the voice of which belonged to her mother.

She cursed under her breath and rushed past the man, Her attention fully diverted from him as she set the uchikatsugi onto her head and went out of the house and into the sun.

[F/N] finally stumbled out onto the rocky street road, Only to see her mother at the end of the road angrily making her way towards her. [F/N] sucked air through her teeth, She was in trouble.

She saw Juro stand behind her, Watching their mother make their way towards [F/N] with the omnipresent smugness drenching his face.

"Told you she was here!" He called out to his mother, But she didn't look back, She was way too focused on her eldest who stood there frozen like a frightened opossum.

The heavy sounds of her mothers sandals against rock and the single strum of a biwa echoed out into the wide walls of the village. Luckily no one else was around, Probably still making their way here from being dispersed only earlier from the town meeting.

"What the hell do you think your doing, Young woman?!" Her mother yelled. Finally closing the distance between the two her mothers hand lunged for her daughters wrist, Yanking her close to her [F/N] let out a curse under her breath.

"What? Can't I check out the crime scene?" [F/N] remarked with a practiced incredulous tone. Ignorant curiosity, It wasn't the reason she came here for but her mother didn't need to know that.

Her mother looked back at her, Incredulous, Just like [F/N]'s voice. However it was mixed with contorted expression of how one might look at spoiled food, Maggots and rodents already festering and all.

"..Do you even listen to what comes out of your mouth? At any point in your life do you even think about what you're about to do?" Her mother said, Only a single pitch away from a whisper.

"Either way it wasn't why I was here, I was talking to that man over there." [F/N] said, Lazily motioning her head under the hat towards the entrance of the house. Her mother quickly strode away from her daughter, But made the move to grab her wrist and drag her along as she went towards the entrance of the house.

"Hey! Hands off me-" [F/N] yelled. Despite her mothers old bones it seemed the sheer anger made her completely apathetic to her age.

"What man? There's no one there." Her mother hissed. Pushing her daughter in front of her to get a better look at the house.

It was true. Apart from the dried carnage and the destroyed insides of the Livingroom there was no sign of life inside. No noise nor presence to be found.

[F/N] felt her heart stop inside her chest, Her breath stifled. That was impossible, The only entrance inside the house was the main door. If he had left through the main door then there would of been no doubt that he would of been spotted.

"Good gods, [F/N].." Her mother groaned, Massaging her temple to soothe her irritation.

"He was here! I swear, I don't know wher-"

"Oh just be quiet, [F/N]!" Her mother exclaimed.

Turning to face her daughter she jumped back in surprise, The look on her mothers worn face was tired and so very angry.

"I'm so done with just letting you run about and do as you please, Someone needs to give you discipline to show you how things work around here" Her mother said lowly.

Yanking [F/N] forward they took off away from the scene. [F/N] couldn't keep up with her fast pace and stumbled around as she was pulled along in her mothers grip.

They passed Juro who didn't even turn his head towards her families squabble, Only side-eyeing [F/N] as they passed.

Juro, That bastard, An Ironic insult but it was the best she could mouth at him as she was dragged by. He was the one who had alerted his mother to her absence, He had to be. Mother wouldn't care if she had wandered off, Juro on the other hand would pick out any opportunity he could to ruin her day.

As she was dragged back to their family home she cursed him out under her breath. [F/N] would've wondered why he was like this to her, But she knew that there was never a reason apart from stigma with a streak of sadism and superiority.

She'd get back at him one day. That, She swore.

☆♡☆

Loud footsteps slammed against the wooden floorboards of the house making louds creaks in their wake.

Opening and slamming the door it shook the frame of her room with the sheer force at which it hit.

As soon as it shut [F/N] pushed herself up against the door and let out a loud cry. The tears she was holding back with a fierce determination now flooded down her face without a hint of resistance.

She slowly slid down the door until it was only her, Sitting on the cold floorboards pressed up against the door, Sobbing her eyes out.

[F/N] didn't know why she was crying, Maybe it was just the broken dam of a slowly rising tide. The house of cards that finally toppled once the slightest of disruptions knocked over its foundation, Causing the entire building to fall down.

What she did know however, Is the words of which her mother had told her.

"Punishment!" "Deserve!" "Finally!"

The words her mother had used when she confiscated her parasols and uchikatsugi swarmed her like a hive of insects. The one thing that protected her from the sun, That let her feel like a normal person even if only for a single minute was taken away by her mother.

She had called it a deserving punishment, Finally giving her daughter the discipline she needed.

What would she even achieve from taking them away? To teach her a lesson, Perhaps. Maybe she had thought it would exorcise the demon that was disguised as her daughter. Even if she did think that before, After seeing the sunburn ingrained onto her skin gave her a good reminder alright.

[F/N]'s breath came out in hitches. Rapid gasps for breaths as she desperately tried to wipe away the unforgiving tears coming out of her eyes. Everyone kept asking what was wrong with her when the only thing she could ask was what was wrong with them.

She didn't choose to be like this. She didn't choose the red bloodshot eyes nor did she choose the bright white of her hair and skin, It didn't mean she was a demon. What was wrong with this world? What did she do to deserve this?

[F/N] lifted her head to wipe away the build up of fluid on her face when she caught the vivid red in the corner of her eye.

It made her breath hitch once more, But not from the pain in her lungs or the sting in her eyes.

[F/N] didn't even bother getting up, Instead favouring to hastily crawl over to her bed. Once she lifted her upper body to see what it was her eyes widened.

It was another bouquet, Just as beautiful as the last. The red petals of rose were fresh and smelt as such, Purifying the air around her and drawing her in with the sweet scent. The colour of the roses seemed to give a hot kick compared to the coldness of her abode.

It was that feeling again. Fireworks. The feeling that brought the warmth back to her, The one she could never describe.

[F/N] took the bouquet into her arms, The softness of both the petals and the trimmed stems caressed her bare skin.

Her lips twitched. The corners of her mouth turning themselves into a new smile, Feeling foreign on her face. There was no letter this time, However that didn't matter.

The bouquet said everything it needed to. She pulled it close as the last of her tears dried, Turning only into small sniffles now and then.

Maybe things weren't so awful after all.

☆♡☆

In the following months, Slowly, A routine started to form.

[F/N] wasn't allowed to go outside of her house, So she had to make do with what she had inside her room.

In the mornings she'd wake up, Make her bed and get ready for the day. Afterwards she would go downstairs to collect her breakfast and make her way back to her room.

Then in the afternoons she'd make herself busy by playing solo games of old sets in her room: Shogi, Menko or Origami, Anything to keep her occupied and keep the boredom at bay.

[F/N] knew if she just apologised and promised to her mother she'd be good she could definetly worm her way out of punishment, However she decided against it. Her pride and dignity was worth baring a stupid little punishment from her mother.

At night she would get her dinner from the kitchens and make her way up to the rooftops again, Speaking to the moon as her only social output as long as you don't count the snide comments from Juro or the single syllable answers from her mother.

For hours she'd just spout out about whatever came to mind. Her day, Frustrations and desires would all be entrusted to the celestial body, A silent promise not to tell between the two.

[F/N] thought it was funny, She'd started to believe the moon could really hear her. It felt like that too sometimes, That someone was really there to listen to her.

And finally, Careful not to make her mistake again she'd close the blinds and make her way to bed. Only to start the cycle all over again the next day.

Though sometimes the cycle would break, Sometimes she would find another bouquet. Lying on the roof or sat tidy on her bed.

Sometimes the person in question would leave a letter too. The sweet words seeming sacred as the flow of the writing went through her, Touching the very core of her heart.

She'd soak up every letter, Every little word she'd mull over for hours at a time letting that feeling coarse through her blood stream. These letters appeared about once a week, Quickly becoming the only thing she had to look forward to.

It was good, It was very good. It hit her one day, Lying in bed while rereading the latest letter for the fifth time.

Was this love?

Maybe. Before the letter had started she had dismissed the concept of it entirely, Love was just a façade. A husband and wife was suppose to love each other yet her mother and father barely spoke when they were around.

A sibling was suppose to love their other siblings unconditionally, But instead hers had shunned her and at best gave backhanded remarks. Sure, Her mother might of loved her kids but even then it was just maternal instinct.

Love was just a construct, That was her belief. It was a way to explain how things worked in a mysterious world, It didn't actually exist. No, It couldn't. At least not for her.

But when she held the soft paper in her hands and finished the last letter of the note it finally clicked, This was love. It had to be.

The undying passion written in the letters proved it, The vowing to love her always said it. It made her blush like an alcoholic intoxicated onto the feeling it gave her.

It was so addicting that she never really took care into asking herself how they got into her room or onto her roof, How they knew exactly what she liked or how she wanted it. That wasn't important.

What was important was who it was. Was it a girl or a boy? How old are they? What do they look like? What's their name? She pondered over this often and to be honest, She couldn't care less about who it was. They loved her, That's all that mattered. It was the spark of light in a dark hopeless void.

Even the rocks thrown through her balcony window, Scribbled in ink with the word "demon" couldn't take her out of her high. Nor the continuing mutilations building up a body count in town could catch her now.

Nowadays the entire family was counting down for the arrival of her father. His business trip had came to an end and now he was making his way home, Due to arrive in a week.

In a weeks time her father would be home, She dreaded the thought. So that's why she had carefully wrote a letter of her own and left it on the rooftop, A common spot for the person in question to leave their letters.

She wrote every letter with passion and folded the envelope with care, Waiting for the response she had went back to bed, Waiting for her admirer to take her away.

"When can I see you? I want to know who you are."

☆♡☆

Her letter had been answered.

The letter she had left on the roof was replaced with a letter of their own. The next day she had found it lying in the same spot, Bouquet of roses and all.

She read the words several times over, Just to make sure she was reading things right.

Midnight, Meet me outside on the pathway to the village. I'll be waiting.

Love, Your admirer.

They wanted to meet her, Her admirer wanted to meet her tonight. As soon as she read the last word she squealed like a little girl on her birthday and spun herself around the room with exhilarant joy.

She stopped dead in her tracks. She needed to get ready. Looking down at her morning kimono she realised she needed to wear her best, She couldn't go out looking like this.

The feeling of wanting to look your best while in front of someone was another new sensation, She'd been having a lot of new sensations lately. All because of her admirer. It was only right to look as good as she could.

She thought back to her experience a few months ago, That man, Tsukihiko. Maybe he was her admirer. The way he looked at her with those matching red eyes just spoke to her, It had to be him. Who else could it be?

Sifting through her closet she finally picked out a rather expensive kimono with a matching yukata. The design's laced onto the fabric were beautiful and made with care, When [F/N] looked at it she knew she had found the perfect one.

But looking in the mirror she knew her hair needed some touching up, Her makeup too.. And her nails and maybe she could find a cute hairpin? Maybe her hair needs touching up again..

By the time she was done it the sun had long set, Replacing the clear blue with a star filled winter night.

[F/N] knew she wasn't allowed out of the house, She knew when she carefully maneuvered her way down the rooftop. It never left her mind even soon as she felt her best sandals hit the ground, But nor did it ever matter to her. She was going to meet her admirer, That was much more important than her mother.

[F/N] moved hastily down the pathway from her house to the village, The letter never specified where about on the pathway they were to meet so she had just decided to walk until something happened.

She slowed down in her tracks to only a leisurely walk. The cold air hit the back of her neck and ran through her hair as she went. [F/N] felt her heart beating like a drum, The rhythm thumping at her ribcage felt like it was going to explode from her chest.

Her leisured stroll came to a stop, By now she could see the village lights and the rest of the stone-lined path. Her eyes followed it all the way back to where she was standing, No one was there. Not Tsukihiko, Not anyone.

[F/N]'s face scrunched up in confusion, She had went the entire pathway and no one was to be found. Could she be late? Looking up at the sky to see the moon dead-centre in the sky that ruled out the possibility entirely.

Then suddenly, She felt a rock hit her back.

The force pushed her over, Collapsing to the ground on her knee's.

The shock struck her like an ice-pick to the back, Causing a cold chill to wash over her. As soon as it hit her thoughts had came to a standstill, Trying to compute what just happened.

A few pairs of footsteps came running out from behind her.

[F/N] looked behind her, Eyes bloodshot and open to their limits as she finally spied the group.

"There! Told you she'd come." Juro laughed to the group of kids behind him, His friends, All carrying pouches of unknown fillings. They all looked down at [F/N], Their expressions all smiling wide and giggling along quietly to Juro.

Another feeling washed over, Anger only an aftertaste to the pain writhing around in her chest. Her arms shook as she tried to gather her Barings, However another quick jolt of pain went to her stomach. One of his friends who she recognised as the Furukawa boy had kicked her, Making her fall down again.

"Demon scum!" He exclaimed as he stepped back towards the group. [F/N] groaned in pain as she wiped away the red specks coming from her mouth.

"What.. What the fuck. The hell.. Are you doing here, Juro" [F/N] hissed, The truth of the situation going straight over her head.

"What? You don't remember? Meet me here at midnight on the pathway to the village!" He teased, The mocking tone in his voice made his group laugh. Juro looked at her straight in the eyes, The sadism shining through the dull overlay.

[F/N] stopped, Going completely still.

No, It couldn't be. Please, For the love of whatever god is up there. It can't be.

"You.. It was you?" She breathed lowly, Disbelieving eyes piercing into his. Pleading with him silently, Subconciously. Juro seemed to toss his head to the side and took a few lazy steps towards her, He had no care in the world as he stood only a foot away from his defeated sister.

"Of course it was me. I knew all about your little rooftop talks, I was the one to leave the bouquets in the first place." He announced it as if it was obvious all along, As if it was nothing but a throwaway joke in a play.

[F/N] felt her heart break.

She felt the culmination of that feeling built up over months, The growing flutter of her heart. The feeling she had even dared to consider love was shattered into a million pieces, Reduced to nothing but ashes.

This wasn't true, How could it be? It couldn't.. [F/N] felt her vision start to go blurry. She opened her dry mouth, She only had one question to ask.

"So.. For months.. You left me flowers.. Letters. All so you could bring me out here..?" She whispered. The blurryness in her eyes gathered and dripped down her face, Cold against her burning face.

"Well I mean, Not at first. In the beginning it was just a way to mess with you, It was funny for me but then.." Juro motioned over to his friends "When I told my friends about it we thought it was an opportunity we couldn't lose, Especially when you left a letter of your own." He finished.

The words devastated [F/N]. The entire world around her seemed so desolate, Like she drowning under the weight of the entire ocean unable to breathe or speak.

She didn't even flinch when Juro and his group raised their hands, The pouches full of unknown contents brought high. And when they threw it, She was glad that her tears blurred their faces.

She curled up into a ball and wished for this nightmare to be over.

☆♡☆

The dragging of slow footsteps echoed lowly in the dark hallway. The passage was dark and near lifeless as most of the house was asleep at this point, Only a few servants lay awake finishing their nightly duties.

[F/N]'s feet barely left the ground as she clutched the hot cup of tea in her hands. In the days that passed it was the only thing she subsided on except from the small bites of food she would eat during the day.

Her eyes seemed low and sunken, Like they were struggling to stay open. Along with her matted hair and chapped lips she appeared dishevelled similar to how an insomniac running on coffee would be, Though at this point that was basically what she became.

Gently pulling open the door to her bedroom [F/N] took a few short steps inside. Once she closed the door she was greeted once again by the emptiness of her room.

She let out a defeated sigh. Trotting over to her bed she set her tea down on the side table, Right before collapsing right onto the bed.

She sunk down into the mattress, Letting the temporary warmth and shelter of the blankets envelop her.

[F/N] was tired, Very tired. Right then and there she wanted to close her eyes and not wake up, Not for a long time. But she knew that no matter how hard she tried she wouldn't be able to sleep, Not as long as her mind was as conflicted as hers.

She turned over onto her back so she could stare up at the ceiling. Before all of this had happened she felt angry or annoyed, Always, There was no in-between. Maybe a splash of surprise here and there but apart from that there was no flux.

After she read the letters her palette had expanded, It felt like she was tasting a new wild variety of flavours for the first time after only eating bread for her entire life. She felt euphoric, She felt love and infatuation. It was good, It was so good.

But now after being hazed with flour and hit with rocks, Humiliated and embarrassed by Juro and his gang she just felt.. Nothing.

She wasn't angry nor was she annoyed, She's tried to feel those things, She tried to feel some sort of rage towards him but after everything she just couldn't.

Juro had even left an extra bouquet for when she got back that night, This one not of roses but instead spider lilies.

The only thing she could do was toss them out from the balcony, The flowers taking all of her anger with it.

[F/N] turned her head over to her balcony. The blinds were shut over the doors yet there was a small opening, A little crack that let moonlight filter through into the room. She could see the moon facing her through the opening, Gathering up what she had left she opened her mouth.

"Is this it..? Is this all there will ever be to my life..?" She whispered, Looking at the moon as her only friend.

She waited. She waited a good few minutes, Waiting for any kind of response from her oldest companion.

Yet nothing came. The moon just looked down on her, Just like they did, Just like they all did.

[F/N] huffed lightly, Turning away from the moon. It was stupid. She grew up to believe that the moon was always there for her, That it would always listen to her. It was her friend.

She knew how stupid that was now. The moon wasn't her friend, It couldn't listen to her. All this time she spoke to an unfeeling object, Something that couldn't understand her or provide any comfort.

"Is this all there will ever be to my life"

Her words rang out in her head. At every turn she was dejected back down into the dirt. While the healthy ran outside to live their life she was stuck at home, Unable to get a job or a husband due to her looks.

She hated them, If she had anything else left to feel it was hatred. They lived their lives free to do anything they wanted yet they wasted it on mundane jobs, Mundane lives while she was left here to fester.

[F/N] closed her eyes. Listening to the servant outside brush the hallways, She tried to use it as white noise. Something to fa-

THUMP!

[F/N] opened her eyes slowly.

The wall to her room that was shared with the hallway suddenly let out a large thump. Coincidentally the sounds of sweeping came to an abrupt stop right before the noise.

Everything was silent now, There was no noise coming from outside nor from [F/N]. Instead she just watched the door, Waiting for the next sign of life.

Another set of footsteps came, Not belonging to the servant before. These ones were heavier, Filled with purpose and stride.

She listened as they reached her door, Coming to a sudden stop in front of it. [F/N] listened half-heartedly along, Waiting for the next sound.

It came. The slow but loud creaking of the door echoed from the walls in her room. She didn't dare to look up into the dark void of the doorway, She knew what was happening. She knew what was going to happen. This was the demon who caused the villages mutilations, There was only one outcome.

The footsteps entered the room. From [F/N]'s limited vision she could only see what looked to be a mans body dressed in a suit jacket and blouse, The left arm stained with a fresh crimson. Her eyes moved up, She couldn't see his face however, The moonlight didn't reveal it.

[F/N] sighed, Maybe out of exhaustion or maybe out of relief.

"So it's you, You're the one whose been doing the mutilations I suppose.. I'm guessing you got to the servant outside right?" She drawled, Letting the syllables play out on her tongue.

The man didn't answer, He only stopped in his tracks. [F/N] could feel his eyes on her, Running over her body, Like a wolf checking to see if the fox could fit in its maws.

[F/N] didn't expect an answer, But she continued anyways.

"You're going to kill me now, Probably even before I've finished my sentence but just.. Just let me make one final request.." A sudden jolt came from inside her like the final remains of lighter fluid sparking out into the raging blizzard.

It felt like vengeance, If she was going down then she knew who was coming with her.

"I don't care if you kill me.. But when you do I want you to take my family too. I don't care how you do it but I want you to make it bloody, I want you to make sure that my father comes home to a slaughter house, I want you to make sure people remember this." She said, The liquid in the lighter drying with her words.

She closed her eyes, Waiting on her bound demise.

This was it. Her body relaxed to take in her final moments. The warmth of the blanket, The coldness of her room, The beating of her heart.

"Who said I would kill you.."

And the feeling of a hand over hers, Gripping it tight.

Her eyes opened wide at the voice, Her irises searched and landed on the mans face now illuminated by the moonlight, It was one she recognised.

"It's you.." [F/N] breathed, She looked over the mans features, Just to make sure.

"Tsukihiko" She whispered. It was him, She saw it now. It was the same suit-jacket, The same styled hair and red eyes. A gentle smile graced his face as he moved even closer than he was currently.

"Even though I may have told you so, Tsukihiko isn't my real name." He corrected. That same deep tone of voice he used all those months ago laced his voice, Resonating deep inside her.

"My name is Muzan Kibutsuji, I am the progenitor of all demons." He declared softly. The hand he had entwined with hers squeezed tighter. His hand wasn't warm, It was in fact cold to the touch but it didn't feel uncomfortable, It was instead akin to shaved ice during a heatwave.

The progenitor of all demons, This was the demon king. It raised more questions than answers but [F/N] could only ask a single one.

"Then, why won't you kill me? Why are you telling me all of this?" She whispered, Looking deep into his eyes for the answer.

He only looked back with the most sincere emotion a being like him could have.

"Because, It seems I've become infatuated with you."

The words left his lips with a finality, As if he was just as bewildered as she was looking into his eyes.

The words pierced her like a spear. [F/N] felt eyes expand and her jaw opening only a little. It was that feeling again, That same feeling, The fireworks.

"..How can I trust your words? How do I know you're not lying to me?" She asked, A small treble in her voice. How could she trust anything he said, Not when she could never trust anything anyone said to her.

"You can't trust me." Muzan finalised, Agreeing with her words. She felt disappointment start to bubble up in her before her spoke one more.

"But when I say that I have became smitten over you from the day I saw you on that roof top, When I say that I became enraptured by your beauty and charm I want you to believe that, My love." He spoke.

[F/N] was speechless, She couldn't believe what she was hearing but by the gods did she want to. Heat rose to her cheeks and she stumbled to get out a single vowel before she was pulled to her feet by Muzan.

"Everything I've been doing these past few months I've done for you, Everything. You are more than a mere human, You're someone I can call my equal" He whispered. And from his suit pocket he pulled out something that gleamed in the moonlight.

It was a ring of silver, A wedding ring. It was beautiful. A sapphire center piece for the gemstone, Crowned by the silver and another dozen gems surrounding it.

[F/N]'s breath hitched at the sight of it.

"You want me… To marry you?" She asked, The words foreign on her tongue. [F/N] still stood in disbelief, Shock, A flurry of new emotions invading her senses that made her need to conceal an excited grin.

"Yes. I see no one else worthy of being called my wife, Only you." He replied. Gentle smile still painted on his face.

The fireworks went off. In that moment, [F/N] knew the answer, One that she couldn't put into words but instead an action.

As soon as the fireworks exploded she took a step forward, Putting her lips on his and bringing Muzan into a deep kiss. Trying her best to make it as passionate as possible with her inexperience.

Muzan didn't resist, But instead seemed to expect it. He put an arm around her waist and took lead, Guiding her along.

As it happened she felt their bodies collide, His arms were wrapped around her body tightly while hers rested on his shoulders in the heat of the moment.

[F/N] barely noticed the ring slip onto her finger, A perfect fit. She could only focus on their lips mingling with each other, His fangs clashing against her bottom lip while she tried to figure out what to do with her tongue.

Muzan's hand slipped down to her neck. A single claw cutting open both his finger and a small part of [F/N]'s neck, Letting his blood mix with hers.

The motion made [F/N] pull away from Muzan, The feeling of her stomach turning interrupting her.

"What the.." She mumbled. [F/N]'s body started to shake, She felt weird. Stumbling back a few feet she was caught by Muzan, Smiling at her with that same gentle look.

He set her down onto her bed, Caressing her cheek with care.

"Rest now, Your transformation should only take a few minutes." Muzan said, Sitting beside her on the bed.

[F/N] nodded, She knew what he meant and she simply didn't care. Only smiling lazily as she let her heart circulate his blood round her system. She felt him close her eyes. And let his blood take her over completely.

☆♡☆

[F/N] followed Muzan down the hallway. Her movements were slow yet jerky at the same time, Like her entire body was numb and barely woken up.

Her mind was hazy, Like a sudden mist started to fall over her mind as soon as she woke up. Her stomach turning had turned into a sudden emptiness, A sudden hunger. She had a craving for something, She didn't know what. However all she knew is that she had to follow Muzan as he helped her down the stairs.

As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs onto the second floor, Suddenly she caught something sweet in the air, Enticing her on.

Muzan noticed this, An almost amused smile appeared on his face.

"Go on then, I won't stop you." He said, And that was all she needed.

[F/N] took off following the scent almost feverishly, Making her way down the hallways going around turns she finally came across a door.

Her mouth watered. The scent was stronger now, Even more so as she bust open the door.

Juro woke up with a start, The noise of his door slamming open almost off the hinges made him flinch. He got up so he was now sitting on his bed. Maybe another mutilation happened, It was probably his mother informing him so.

But as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes to see his elder sister leaning against the doorway, He knew that wasn't the case.

"What the hell do you want..? You still mad about last week?" He chuckled lightly, The sleep still permeating his voice.

[F/N] stood in the doorway, Not answering. However her breathing was laboured and she stumbled about, Swaying side to side. Her head was lowered to the ground, Eyeing only the floorboards.

"What's wrong with you?" Juro raised an eyebrow at his sisters movements, It was getting annoying. Waking him up in the middle of the night and she wouldn't even tell him why.

But he suddenly froze once she lifted her head.

Her laboured breathing showed off her teeth, Sharper than normal creating new fangs protruding from her mouth. Her pupils had slimmed and turned into something similar to a cat's, And they were eyeing him like a piece of raw meat.

His sweat dropped, This wasn't normal. Slowly getting out of his bed he made sure to never take his eyes off of her, To make sure she didn't pounce.

"Listen.. [F/N]." He started, His voice shaky and carefully planned.

"I-I'm sorry for what I did.. Okay? I-I shouldn't of treated you like that.. It was wrong, I.. I'm so sorry okay?" He started. His entire form shook, His knees threatening to buckle under the weight of the situation.

She took a step forward, Making him flinch.

"I-I'm sorry! Please don-"

[F/N] lunged forward, Her body knocking into his as they fell to the floor with a thump!

Juro screamed, Loud and high pitched to make sure the rest of the house woke up as he felt [F/N]'s teeth lodge into his neck.

With a tug she pulled her mouth back. A chunk of flesh and muscle tore out from his neck, Making a spray of blood coat the room and [F/N] entirely painting her red.

Juro sobbed. His mental state reducing into that of a child's as he felt his sisters teeth tear at his flesh, Only to greedily shove the meat down her gullet, Pleased at the sweet taste she licked her lips to Juro's horror.

She tore into him, Again and again. Juro felt his limbs be pulled from their sockets and the blood burst from his arteries, Popping like candy and spraying all over the room.

He was barely conscious when the cold sweat of death wash over him.

The last thing he saw was the looming figure of his sister. His severed arm in her mouth and covered in red. Smiling at him, Wide and proud.

And the oncoming figures of the rest of his family in the doorway.

☆♡☆

Downstairs Muzan stood idly in the main room.

He waited for her, Listening intently to the noise thrashing around upstairs. He decided it was best to let [F/N] take care of it herself, She was hungry after all and as a new demon she needed her strength.

However, Muzan's attention was drawn to the main door, Which was flung open letting the cold nights air flood inside.

In the doorway was an older man. A katana around his waist and a yukata over his slayer uniform. Muzan felt the grin tug at his lips, This must of been [F/N]'s father, A slayer at that.

"..Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?!" He exclaimed, Yet his tone contained exhaustion, Obviously tired from a long travel.

"Who am I? I assumed you slayers would know a king when they saw one." Muzan remarked.

The mans eyes widened. The tiredness in his eyes before was now long gone and by now his sword was drawn, Pointing straight at Muzan.

"You.. Muzan Kibutsuji" He said. Despite his brave front, Muzan could see through it. He was terrified.

"There it is.." Muzan drawled, Now turning his full body over towards him. Her father made no move to attack him, Only keeping his sword at head level waiting for Muzan's next move.

"What.. What have you done with my wife, My children." Her father asked, The thought tearing through his mind, Scared of the possibilities.

Muzan entertained him, The fact that he had the guts to speak out in the first place spoke volumes.

But before he could answer, The sound of creaking steps and dragging thumps sounded out behind them, Interrupting their conversation.

The mans attention flipped over behind him. Alternating between Muzan and the unknown threat they both watched intently as the presence reached the bottom of the steps.

The mans eyes widened.

At the bottom of the stairs stood [F/N], Drenched head to toe in blood smelling of brass and iron.

But what she held in both hands, That's what made her father fall to his knees.

In both of her hands she dragged the mangled corpses of his wife and kids, [F/N]'s new strength granting her the capability to do so.

In her right held his wife, The corpse had several parts missing. Limbs, Flesh and organs all in various states of degradation.

In her left was the corpse of his second eldest. He wasn't even recognisable, Only the yukata being of any hint to his identity.

He fell to his knees, The sight seeming to defeat him entirely.

His nichirin katana fell out of his grasp, Slipping out with ease once he laid his hands on the corpses. [F/N] watched on at the scene, Gazing down at the broken mess of a man.

"What the.. No.. No this couldn't.." He choked out, Tears starting to form in his eyes and flow down his face. His wife and kids dead, He wasn't here to protect them, To do his duties as a demon slayer.

He moved his eyes up to the face of the culprit, Recognising her as his eldest disappointment of a daughter.

"You.. You monster.." He whispered, Piercing gaze going right through her like an icepick to the heart.

But [F/N] felt nothing as she looked at him, The haze from her mind lifted long ago at the first taste of her meal. This man for her entire life had been a overhanging figure, A threat to what would happen to her if she stepped out of line. His words were nothing new to her ears.

"..Do you have nothing else to call me, Or are you done?" [F/N] asked. She felt the rush of superiority come over her, She was the one in charge now. Not him.

Her father swallowed the lump in his throat. He had nothing else to say, Only choked sobs came out of his mouth.

[F/N] dropped the cadavers in her arms in favour of walking up to her father. Slowly stopping in front of him, Looking down at his weakened form.

Muzan stood only a few feet away from him, Watching over the events unfolding. He was amused at it, Watching [F/N]'s every move.

She raised her hand high, Her new claws spiking out of her fingernails ready to strike.

All these years of torment, Dejection and disgust funnelled towards her. The harassment and hate. Everything she had been through came down to this.

"Go on, My love." Muzan's voice called out, [F/N] glanced over to him "Finish this."

Muzan Kibutsuji, Her fiancée, Her stalker. He called out to her with that eternally caring voice, That same gentle smile edging her on to finish the deed.

She looked back at him and smiled.

And with a quick slash it was finished, Her father was no more.

His severed head dropped onto the tatami mat, She watched as it bounced a few times before rolling away.

Muzan appeared behind her, Wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You did such a good job, My love." He stated, Kissing the back of her head as he pulled her closer. [F/N] sunk into his hold, The coldness a comfort to her.

"T-Thanks.." She grinned, Fireworks continuing to go off. More so once he move a hand to her legs, Manoeuvring her so she was now being carried bridal style by her now fiancée, Not caring how much blood stained his blouse.

Muzan leaned down and left a small kiss on her lips, To which she returned.

"Are you ready to go now, My love?" Muzan asked.

"Always." [F/N] responded, Stars in her eyes.

Muzan smiled, Pulling her close. He looked up and with the single strum of a biwa, He disappeared into the night, Taking [F/N] with him.

Never to be seen again.

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merakime · 1 year ago

Note

May I ask for Flamebringer headcanons with a sword wielding partner? Like, his partner is as interested in fighting as him and is a bit intense when fighting (in a fight? killing machine. Outside of a fight? sunshine)

# DUALITY ! ft. flamebringer

───── a/n: i love this idea!! it's been a while (pt.182829 morbillion) i hope you're still seeing this. i'm leaning a bit more into the duality (and personal.. charachteristical?1???) aspect of this than the sword-wielding aspect — even though the sunshine part looks like it's intended as an afterthought? i hope that's okay!

cw: blood, murder, battle stuff, warrior philosophy, a little nihilism if you squint, it's red-flagbringer you know the deal!

word count: 540~ – i have no idea what this counts as.

flamebringer; having been in so many battles, often with the very people he sat with for a night before; is aware that most warriors possess a duality that is necessary for survival. he'd know best — the gentle gardener of rhodes island would never survive out on the battlefield. to live, it's necessary to draw a line within oneself, between human and warrior — and he surmises that that, too, is your strategy.

having borne witness to your intensity and passion for battle, he harbors respect for you — no matter your philosophy regarding bloodshed, you've easily cut down many in your path. that, by itself, should be respected, if your tenets agree with his or not.

now, while in theory, he understands your duality perfectly — practically? he's often at a loss. there've hardly been people who've stuck by his side for so long — especially warriors like you. but you're with him, there, beaming in a gardening apron as if two weeks prior you haven't debilitated an entire troop. there's understanding between both of you — but also confusion, especially in regards to how you should treat one another.

it's almost clumsy, juvenile on his part — there is hardly one that he stood so close with, after all, so he was never able to experience it. it makes sense, but from an outsider's perspective it is rather comedic due to how uncharacteristic he is. compliments (outside of those made to your battle prowess) and displays of affection, while being honest, sound almost awkward and regurgitated coming from him — with responses alike.

when in his element, meaning battle, he articulates himself much more smoothly, although subtly. as he is a man of few words, most of his expressions are through action. flamebringer trusts you enough to turn his back to you, enough to believe that you'll parry the deadly blows that he can't defend against. you best believe that he, too, will shield you with his blades. on the line of life and death, love and passion are most earnest. that he trusts you with his weakness, and that he would stand against your fate of death — it means much more than any words can express when you think about it, and considering his philosophies.

normally he'd say that teamwork is detrimental to one's performance, robbing you of your inner instinct, but can that be said when your teamwork is instinctual in itself? a disorderly harmony. he's become accustomed to your style and your presence and hell, he could very well predict your next move. even if both of you operate apart from one another, with your own commandments, there is an always an agreement between you — you receive a common goal, and you will execute it by your own means. a deadly union!

flamebringer knows both sides of you — and it'd pain him, truly, for if you perished in battle, he wouldn't come back home to the second you, either. and that, too, inspires him — while his fate is bleak and yours is too, your hands dyed in blood that can't be washed away, he would fight for another day if it means you'll be there, behind the line of the battlefield. life is a flicker, that's what he thinks — but for you, he'll fight just for a little longer.

───── final note: hg please give this man more lore. his files are so fuckign cool and leave room for so many cool things it’s such a pity to leave him in the dust. anyway do you think flamebringer would like plants versus zombies

#✦ mari writes !!#arknights x reader #arknights imagines #flamebringer x reader

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aeroblossom · 1 year ago

Text

more on albedo and rhinedottir

what is transmutation, if not rebirth?

okay. i think i figured out the motive behind rhinedottir's creations, among other things.

bear with me and my poor explanation, i'm also really bad at linking sources lmao. do correct me if i've gotten any details wrong. much of this was possible thanks to conversations with a friend of mine!

rhinedottir's reason for creating durin, elynas, albedo and everything else was to find the meaning of life itself.

i'm gonna try and make it as simple as possible to get, i hope.

so, back in search in the algae sea, during the third orthant - cater gives us a riddle, to which the answer is 'love'. some discussion upon alchemy and the orthants with my friend later, we decided to match the stages of alchemy (in rene's given order) to the order of orthants we travelled. that makes citrinitas corresponding to love. the third orthant is also the one of the soul. love and soul.

so here's an idea i've had for a long time. one motive for rhinedottir's actions may be that she was trying to recreate someone dear to her through albedo. someone she loved - be it a family member, lover, anything. with my friend, i discussed how rene quotes aleister crowley's poem regarding the womb of pan, which is essentially a void where all souls originate and/or return to in the time of rebirth. durin and elynas both speak about how they existed in some empty darkness before rhinedottir called them forth - but not albedo.

albedo's earliest memories, he says, are of traveling with rhinedottir. so.

'primordial human project'. rene's search led him to primordial humans. he tried to become one and failed. it involved dissolving himself to be reborn.

'primordial human project' - consider, albedo is not an original creation, but a reborn being.

the rebirth of someone dear to rhinedottir whom she tried to make a primordial human.

why? because albedo is her last ditch effort at saving the world - just like rene. like how citrinitas corresponds to the age of glory for empires and their subsequent collapse with the coming of the stage of rubedo, rhinedottir - khaenriah as a whole - knew its end was destined, and they must have known this. she asks albedo to reach the far side of philosophy and create a better future for them all.

think about it. societal collapse is imminent, your country is crumbling, the end of the world is near and everything feels so utterly doomed. and you know it. you know you're doomed. she must have known of the world formula, must have known rubedo must follow citrinitas.

in the hexenzirkel trailer, she sounds just somewhat reluctant when it comes to being called a mother. you know what this reminds me of, who she reminds me of? ruan mei. ruan mei, upon learning of the infinitely transient nature of life, sinks into emptiness. she can't show love to the creations she's made with her own hands. she knows so well how short, and thus meaningless their lives are. she fears forming attachment - she dissects the scientific meaning of attachment in her character trailer instead of seeing it as something people just do.

rhinedottir must thus have attempted to flip the last two stages of alchemy to prevent their fate, yeah?

if everything is truly meant to end, if it's all destined to fall from rise, what is really the point?

most hoyoverse games are about fighting this sort of nihilistic thinking. the character of otto apocalypse makes it abundantly clear. otto's character takes great inspiration from friedrich nietzsche, whom many people misunderstand for a nihilist. however, nietzsche's philosophies were actually staunchly against nihilism.

rene tried to save the world because he wanted to believe it has meaning. it troubled him that the rise and the fall are void of purpose, he wanted to save it because he believed there was a point in its existence.

rhinedottir is no different. there is no force greater than love. and guess what?

in wagner's play 'the ring' - the dwarf alberich steals the rhinegold from the rhinemaidens. the rhinemaidens tell him there's nothing greater than love in the world. and what does alberich do?

he denounces - wouldn't you know - love.

like rene, rhinedottir became the scapegoat for the cataclysm for her deeds.

i've expressed previously that the primordial human rhinedottir was trying to create through albedo may possibly be the third descender. one who descends.

so, then,

that may be what dainsleif means when he says "we will defy this world with a power from beyond", no?

[side theory :: i once came across the idea of the twins being meteors. the rifthounds induce corrosion on you, making you bleed. gold corrodes. and gold on the earth is also theorized to be extraterrestrial, ie, it came from meteor impact. so then, what if the twins are the source of azosite, or any other such materials derived from gold, that khaenriah now prizes?]

so, tldr : rhinedottir, amidst a world rapidly approaching its doom having learned of the world formula, seeks to prove it wrong, to prevent it, undo it - she tries to fight back against collapse by finding meaning itself. there is nothing more transient than life itself, and thus she sought to prove that there is meaning in something as short lived as that. i'm shaky on albedo being a life reborn, but i do believe it's not impossible. he could have been somewhat dear to her that she tried to make attain the status of primordial human - descender, even - so as to undo the laws of fate.

(some screenshots of the discussion, NOT in chronological order)

#rhinedottir #albedo #genshin lore #genshin theory #rene de petrichor #ruan mei #fontaine lore #this took me a while but i cant say im happy with it #i pray to god my point came across #greatest of thanks to my friend who helped in making this #🏷

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mdhwrites · 11 months ago

Text

The Good of Penacony

I said I wanted to make a blog about the positive elements of Penacony and I meant it, especially since I really enjoyed the new content pretty much until after the first new boss. Some of what came after makes it hard for me to still enjoy what came before but there is plenty of good still, even in this main content.

So, of course, Star Rail 2.0 Spoilers ahead.

So a LOT of what's good is centered around Firefly. For as much as in my original blog I railed against her death, she is this bad trope done EXCEPTIONALLY well. Her scene on the rooftop is the best in all of Star Rail, hands down. Not only that but she doesn't feel like a cinnamon meant to die. She has a real personality, can be distrusting, isn't a complete airhead, still had her own secrets until she died and her own motives and desires. As far as Star Rail characters go, she is genuinely one of the best.

It's why her death hurts so much. I see people trying to joke about it and it causes twinges in my chest. I see people celebrating her and feel joy about it. She is a character who I'm really unhappy to have gone. If the writing was truly just bad, this wouldn't have happened.

A large part of what helps in all of this is that during the time you spend with her, the game drops the mysteries, mostly, and drops its pretensions to genuinely be fun. Instead, it is enthusiastic about its setting in a way we haven't been before. Firefly truly, genuinely loves the dream of Penacony and has a good reason to since it's the only place she can truly live now. She makes the biggest argument anyone could for why the dream must stay. Why it would be such a tragedy for it all to collapse.

I think the time with Sampo is really the only lull with the time with her. 'Sampo' isn't bad mind you. Sparkle may be no fun, part of why I don't like her, but while pretending to be a fun character she gives some good chances to snark and some good jokes. She also introduces neat mechanics and while the Tatalov stuff is entirely pointless, it's a fine distraction. It helps sell the absurdity of dreams.

The dungeons help in this regard too. The dreamscape that's being worked on is majestic and the bird's eye view you have to take to traverse it only helps you drink in the grandeur to this new addition to Penacony. The shooting stars like streaming fireworks are awe inspiring and Firefly is just the cutest little thing with each and every one that you do with her. It's honestly the first time that our party has truly helped add to the atmosphere of a dungeon.

This isn't as true for the Child Dreamscape but that's okay as now we descend into the uncertainty and horror of dreams. This is also part of Penacony's strength from a design perspective. I never felt like the Loufu really supported its own themes too well, nor enhanced its storytelling, with its dungeons. You go through too bland, faceless of environments for that. Penacony is entirely different. The enemies, world design and even how you traverse are genuinely trying to work in parallel with what they're trying to go with for the concept of the planet.

And man... Something Unto Death is a masterfully designed boss. My brother and I were assuming that if Sam was the boss that made sustainers shine (which kind of is true. Sam is awkward as far as a boss fight goes and I'm curious what consensus on him will be) then Unto Death would be the boss for multi-DPS teams. That it was anti-hyper carry.

Which, arguably, it still is. It still wants you rocking at least two DPSes but specifically MULTI target DPSes. Erudition isn't completely the king here though. Because they're starting to acknowledge DoTs as still dealing damage, it's really the Nihility boss and I like that there is one in main content that is specifically weakest to that group. DoT teams struggle after all in the current DPS test focused end game content and having a boss that makes them feel more relevant is a great addition.

Also, I will shout out that despite the fandom thinking the era of Hunt is over, Sam currently appears to be best fought against with Hunt characters. Their speed helps them keep up with Sam, their ults chunking so much weakness off of him is extremely useful if you don't want to have to burn down your own health to get him out of his super state and their overall extremely high damage even outside of ults against this single target mean they can make him suffer the hardest. For as much as I think the Sam fight currently feels like a giant slog, and I worry what a phase 2 and 3 will look like with him, I still respect what they're trying to do with him. If arguably Argenti is a better version of the Yanqing fight though, I'm excited to see what the better Sam fight is.

And there's still plenty of other characters I do like. Gallagher was great in his brief appearance. Misha is adorable and I'm sad we're not getting a companion quest with him. Black Swan might be an idiot right at the end but she is the most competent manipulator amongst the cast of manipulators and at least when she tells me that she's doing it for good reasons, I actually believe her. Heck, I even liked when I first met Aventurine. It's genuinely a problem for me that he's being built up to be the super cool hero of this story next to us that makes me dislike him so much because nothing about his previous appearances sold him that way. An idiot who has gotten too much power, too quickly, and is used to relying on his status getting shut down because he's finally having to deal with people with real power and skills though? I was excited for that with his first couple appearances.

I genuinely really want to like Penacony. The fact that so many things took a step up (I didn't even mention how while the elites might be easy, I think their gameplay and visual designs are amazing) is a really great thing that helped add to the possibility space to the writing. It even started trying to ape Shakespeare by trying to tell us how the story would go from the beginning.

It's just... Nothing about the patch has me excited for where it goes except for the potential for Firefly to come back. Not from the main story at least. That's just a real shame, especially after I actually did manage to get on the hype train for Penacony. I don't usually get to do that.

The last note I'll leave on is my theory for Acheron: If she is an emanator, she is the Emanator of Nihility. She brings things to an end but more importantly for this: She herself is constantly being emptied out. Her lack of memory? Her ability to get lost so easily? Those come from parts of her mind literally being consumed by her nature. It would also explain why she potentially might not know she's an emanator (that's speculation) but also be why she reacts to you the way she does. Not enough of HER is there to not be affected and changed by how you treat her and the emotions you put out. Hence the red text that changes for different players.

And I'll admit that I am excited to see if I'm right. Acheron is probably my favorite Penacony character currently who is still alive and I'll still be pulling on her banner (after it took 160 pulls for Black Swan *sobs*). I just hope Penacony improves, leans more into the dream rather than the mystery and honestly that for a while, Star Rail just stops trying to do mysteries because I don't think they're good at it. Ratio's continuance sucked for it and the thin veneer of it here is dragging everything down.

And that's a shame when so much of it is so high.

======+++++======

For those who want to see me being angrier about it, and talking about how terrible both Firefly and Robin's deaths are, you can find that blog over here. That was admittedly done with a lot more emotion than this blog was but I still stand by it for the most part.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#hsr #penacony #honkai star rail

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poeticcannon · 10 months ago

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Oh, the lore in the Pioneer Diver of Dead Waters set is interesting.

The girl has heard a story like this. In the story, the world people inhabit is depicted as a towering tree, composed of ownerless energy. "This kind of energy is invisible, intangible, incomprehensible, and meaningless," she thought, "just like how IX has no meaning."

The little Nameless is somewhat melancholic, worrying about how she would orient herself after stepping into the depths of "Nihility." But soon, she had an inspiration — on her fourteenth birthday, her mother left her with one last gift... a small compass.

"If that's the case, as long as the compass senses not the magnetic field but 'energy,' wouldn't that solve the problem?"

The little Nameless removed the magnetic needle from the compass, but when the girl descended into the darkness, she realized that the compass' only direction was down.

"Frebass, the Nameless from Toyro, died for fourteen days and nights. She forgot the cries of seagulls, the roar of the abyss, The gains, and the losses."

She picked up the diving helmet her father left behind and wore a self-made "Medallion of Honor." Before leaving, she and her companion once again went to the cedarwood forest, toasting marshmallows one last time.

Later, when Frebass' spacecraft approached the edge of the black hole, this was all she could recall about Orkron.

The girl never closes her eyes, fighting boldly against the cold and lonely darkness. She remembers the first time she heard stories about Akivili. She remembers the first day she set upon the journey and the "Medallion of Honor" she forged for herself. She remembers the 30 days she spent journeying with her companion. She remembers the forest glade they gathered in for the first and last time, and how the air there tasted like raspberries. She remembers whistles, guitars, and the flute, and the songs they sang together. She remembers scarlet snow falling on slightly burnt marshmallows and disappearing.

The vast void looms near the end of the vivid memories, yet she suddenly sees a dash of crimson blinking briefly into existence in the center of the pitch-black world.

Therefore, the little Nameless remembers the smile she gave from the bottom of her heart when the girl with the sword took the marshmallows for the final time.

"I never thought I would meet anyone similar to me. You've walked so much further on this road than me. Therefore, you will surely walk with me till then end, right?" "Of course. Our end has already been determined... However, just like you said — Even though I may turn into a shallow puddle of dead water in the end, there is still a lot I can do on my journey toward that moment. Therefore, no matter what, I have to go try it— — Because I will walk on a road deeper and further than Akivili's!"

Very cool story. And there's mention of the color red, that Acheron talked about.

#star rail #IX the nihility #the nihility hsr #the nameless hsr #hsr

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lilacandladybugs · 4 years ago

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Technoblade’s Dream SMP Character

Once the hero’s quest has been established and the goals have been laid out, all there is left to do is set out to achieve them. The hero, determined and willful, grows desperate in the face of looming and near undefeatable odds. Their ragtag team is strong in will, but not strong enough to fight against the massive forces of evil that assail them.

Enter the Ace. According to TV Tropes, “The Ace is someone who is ridiculously good at what they do, whatever that happens to be, and everyone knows it. People look up to them, envy them, and are in awe of them. They'll drive the protagonist to greater efforts either out of envy or by inspiring them.”

Does that sound familiar?

*ba ba badada ba ba badada ba ba badada ba*

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ TECHNOBLADE (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I’m going to make this SO incoherent you thought you’d be able to read this??? *slams papers on table* WRONG i am Back on my Bullshit

Anyway Technoblade fits the TV Tropes description of the ace among a few other tropes and using this information we can draw some interesting parallels between Techno and Roy Mustang as well as potentially project ways the smp plot could develop. In this essay I will-

WhEres tHe eSsAy OP-

HERE you may stop complaining i have provided what nobody asked for.

The main characteristic of the Ace is just that they’re so overpowered. They’re just like terrifyingly overpowered and it makes them a really interesting character. Often paired with other character tropes like being really dead inside, really dramatic, everyone’s favorite, and is often paired with some really traumatizing backstory that made them the way they are. They’re also often used as human weapons because they’re So Strong that they can be turned on entire cities and just demolish them.

Let’s start with roy Mustang because I remember more of Roy’s plot than Levi’s lmao

Roy Mustang was an incredibly ambitious young man who sought out fire alchemy, and once he mastered it pledged himself to the military. Because fire alchemy was so incredibly dangerous, once he mastered it he was literally like a walking nuclear weapon. The military used Roy along with a few other alchemists to commit genocide against the people of Ishval, but Roy did a lot of the heavy lifting because he was, well, a weapon of mass destruction.

Technoblade, similarly, has always been recognized as incredibly powerful even before he went in search of Great Wealth and Greater Power. He came back from his journeys with six wither skulls and honestly probably more that he’s saving for future usage. Tommy thought whitelisting Technoblade would be a good idea to use him to overthrow Manburg, which Tommy knew he couldn’t do on his own. “You really think you can destroy Manburg without my help, Tommy?”

Never fear! The blade is here! Here to protect the squishy main character from all of the people that might do him wrong or kill him before Technoblade wants him dead. “I have the Blade.”

One thing that Roy has that Technoblade doesn’t have are his *:･ﾟ✧Morals*:･ﾟ✧

Except that isn’t quite true is it? Technoblade does have morals just not ones that we’d like. His anarchy, and whenever those morals get violate, he goes berserk and kills everything in his path. Sound familiar? If it doesn’t just trust me that Roy does the same exact thing.

Technoblade is unfortunately one of those characters who believes that all of humanity are the bad guys (if given governmental power). He’s been quoted saying (paraphrased), “This destruction is the work of one person, imagine what would happen in the hands of an organized government.”

In this way, Technoblade fulfills another character trope, Then Let me be evil. Humans are the real monsters and the only way to defeat them is to be as evil as he perceives them to be. Technoblade then ironically ends up blowing up Manburg out of his fear that letting a government exist there would be even worse. This is also somewhat similar to Mustang in that Mustang understood the evils of government and was horrified by them, but Mustang thought that he needed to take control for anything to be done properly rather than wanting everything destroyed.

Technoblade repeatedly says that he is trying to prevent the evils of government and tries to remind the audience that he isn’t just allied with Chaos like Dream and Wilbur, so he breaks the Anarchy is Chaos trope that so often occurs, “While anarchy and chaos are not mutually exclusive (chaos is anarchic, although it often devolves into despotism, but anarchy is not necessarily chaotic) such an un-mindset is properly called nihilism, the belief in nothing. However, the actual definition of Anarchism is the belief that rulership should not exist (as indicated in its Greek roots, an- [no] -arkhos [ruler]).”

WhAT WILL HE DO NEXT

From a storytelling perspective someone else would generally catch up to him and be on the same level of power so that the story wouldn’t be completely unbalanced but come on, who’s going to actually do that? Even with all his gear, awesamdude almost definitely can’t take Techno in a fair 1v1 so Techno’s place as the most powerful on the server is fairly well protected.

“The villain normally gets to this point by being rejected by the resident morality enforcers and treated to demonization and assumptive behavior. They just cannot get a break; even if they try to do good deeds, it will only lead to being horrifically punished for them at worst and having them be disregarded or treated as insincere attempts at fostering good will at best. As they see it, their reputation is so tarnished that there is absolutely no way of changing anyone's mind that they are not a monster. So what is the use of trying to be anything other than the monster which they are already seen as?” -TV Tropes

Technoblade gave his gear to Pogtopia and they set up a government, betrayed him, and then robbed him. Rejected from society he moves into the winter wasteland. Or at least tries because awesamdude has already been there

Now perhaps he will stop playing so much by his morals and trying to win people over onto his side. Wilbur is dead, his ties to society are severed. Nothing is holding him back anymore from destroying everything. Maybe that means taking over everything and setting up his own form of “government” making him technically a dictator the likes of which the smp has never seen before.

We’ll see c:

#dream smp #technoblade

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a-wandering-ghoulette · 5 years ago

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Copia as Papa: the blue papal ensemble first thoughts

I won't beat about the bush: I’m convinced the color is important. We’re used to Popes in black (yeah PE1 wore white, but can't we agree it’s not that surprising?) and now we have this strange bird showing off. So much can be said about this color! Let me add “few” things which, to me, seem accurate or would have personnaly inspired me in the choice of this color, based on the middle age, plague-ish and Renaissance theme following Copia so far:

First of all, starting from the XIIth century blue is a new, trending color, symbol of wealthyness and aristocracy. Deep and vivide tons are the most expensive. It’s said blue colors used to be more expensive than those using gold powder.

During the XIIth century, blue already tended to replace black even in the funeral rite and religious objects.

Catholics didn't accepted the use of blue that easily. Wearing blue was considered as a surge of pride. Actually, they didn’t really care about what people wore but still, it was unworthy of a good Christian. It was a true moral fight opposing the big bad blue of the nobles and Protestants to the imperious red and discreet black of the Christianity.

Copia as a Cardinal often wore red and black, traditional colors, and seemed a little bit clumsy and oopsy oops sorry Nihil aha ‘living now byebye~. Now he’s in blue and he’s the new Pope and he's like eh there can be only 1 Pope, shoo~! Mere coincidences, most certainly, but I wanted to highlight this.

After the Black Plague strucked Europe, wearing blue wasn’t well seen. First, because it’s expensive to produce and european countries are ruined. So decreats were made to stop this hunger for luxurious textile goods. Secondo, ethic: to keep a christian tradition of modesty and righteousness. Young people and women were targeted and repression on innovative ideas were made bc they were “disturbing the established order and moral”. Finally, ideology: a need to initiate segregation between classes and genders. To maintain strong barriers and avoid mixes between classes is a priority and the outfit -the complexity + color- is the first sign of social classification. To break these borders, it’s to break the order desired by God, which is both dangerous (boooo fear the return of the plague!) and sacrilagious.

About the Holy Mary™ (bc I saw posts about that and I know some of you are just joking around and it’s 100% okay! I’m adding that for those who may want/need more infos). Blue started to be associated to Mary during the XIIIth century, and let's be honest, the most noticeable symbolism in that is they used an expensive pigment to depict Mary bc she is a very important biblical figure. Blue wasn’t that valorised symbolicaly speaking at the time, it was too early, not trending enough yet.

So according to me, here Copia is basically showing off all his pride to the eyes of the world and most certainly his will to be a great leader, while sticking with this idea of “death” surrounding him since he first appeared. He’s totally breaking the habits established so far (it already started with Prequelle released. I meaaaan....!!!).

(For the most curious soul: read the book Blue-The History of a Color by Michel Pastoureau. Good shit, well written and documented!)

If I can easily speculate on the color and complexity of his ensemble, when it comes to the embroidery I admit I don't have brain Brig enough lol. However, I instinctively want to shout: “I see astronomy mixed to alchemy here, all followed by Baroque like arabesque, aaaah!!”, but I wonder: what’s going on here?

The first thing I spotted is the G ending on a star, as if it’s pointing at it, wanting us to look at it closely. Indeed, it guide our eyes to it. Is there a comparison to do with Ursa Major and the North star? I’m kinda confused bc of its look. The symetrical shapes makes sens with the whole aesthetic of the outfit, but the G doesnt look like anything else on this ensemble. Everything is full of arabesque or fine lines, and here we have a thick sharp shaped G (and is it silver or blue? I wanna see HD close ups! ;;). Don’t get me wrong, I think it looks super cool! I’m simply confused because I feel like I’m missing the point here. I’m curious to see what you think about it! (EDIT rightafterpostingthis: Wait, constellation ! I'm stupid aha, it's a constallation.)

We also have this:

I instinctively see cardinal points and the compass rose. Very important when you observe the sky. Again, with the G pointing at the star, this symbol bring the notion of direction, discovery, travel, guiding us/ourself. It’s a tool meant to help us... And the G is centered. But let’s not speculate more than necessary, it’s a bit too early for that.

Alchemy, the Heptagrams :

I don’t know much about them tbh. It’s some good alchemy stuff, about universe and perfection, and it’s also used in occultism/paganism, and catholicism (7 days of the creations + protection against... the evil?).

About the stones. Lot of blue ones apparently. Let’s say it’s meant to be saphirres: stones use to make amulet for travellers, protection against the plague and various nervous illness and such. Note that “saphirre” also refered to “lazulis” during Renaissance(people were confusing them. Both blue stone, can't blame them). Another reason why blue is such an important color here! Fun fact: saphirre also symbolize honesty, fidelity and truth.

Overall, the ensemble looks like a mystic map of the sky and I just love it! These notions also go along with my idea that Copia's character development is bases on Middle Age/Renaissance humanism and opening of minds toward the world, letting go of old beliefs. I mostly linked it with astronomy and alchemy, with historical/social bacground, but I’m pretty sure people into astrology and paganism will surely have a lot to say as well! Let’s see what others interpretations you’ll come with... And what Tobias actually has in mind!

#sorry for the long post aha #I'm not a specialist i'm just too passionated for my own sake #I spent half the day on this duh #and forgive my english ♥#the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #papa copia #popia #thoughts #copia blue outfit

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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How Science Fiction’s Ensemble Stories Humanize Space

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

A close-knit crew of wildly different people ride around on a spaceship having adventures. If you’re a sci-fi fan, there are very good odds that this synopsis describes one of your hooks into the genre. That crew might be a dysfunctional band of space criminals and revolutionaries, or a clean cut team of scientists, diplomats and soldiers serving a galactic Space UN, but there is a core appeal to this set up across the genre.

“Ensemble crews are one of the quickest and most powerful ways to forge a found family. A foundational example for me was Blake’s 7,” says Paul Cornell, who has written stories for the Star Trek: Year Five comic series among his many speculative fiction credits. “They haven’t been recruited, they have relative degrees of distance from the cause, they’ve been flung together. The most important thing is that they’re all very different people.”

These Are the Voyages…

It’s a formula that has been repeated over and over for about as long as there has been science fiction on television—starting with the likes of Star Trek and Blake’s 7, through the boom in “planet of the week” style TV in the 90s and 00s with Farscape and Firefly, to more recent stories like Dark Matter, The Expanse, Killjoys, and the Guardians of the Galaxy films. Most recently Sky’s Intergalactic, and the Korean movie Space Sweepers have been carrying the standard, while last month saw people diving back into the world of Mass Effect with Mass Effect Legendary Edition. While Commander Sheppard is ostensibly the protagonist of the video game trilogy, few would argue that it’s anything other than the ensemble of the Normandy crew that keeps people coming back.

As science fiction author Charlie Jane Anders points out, it’s not hard to see the appeal of a family of likeable characters, kept in close quarters by the confines of their ship, and sent into stories of adventure.

“I love how fun this particular strand of space opera is, and how much warmth and humour the characters tend to have,” Anders says. “These stories have in common a kind of swashbuckling adventure spirit and a love of problem-solving and resourcefulness. And I think the ‘found family’ element is a big part of it, since these characters are always cooped up on a tiny ship together and having to rely on each other.”

Over the years the Star Wars franchise has delivered a number of mismatched spaceship crews, from various ensembles to have crewed the Millennium Falcon, to the band of rebels in Rogue One, to the crew of the Ghost in Star Wars: Rebels.

That energy was one of the inspirations for Laura Lam and Elizabeth May, the writers behind Seven Devils and its upcoming sequel, Seven Mercies. In Seven Devils, a team of very different women come together aboard a starship stolen from an oppressive, galaxy-spanning empire, clashing with each other as much as the regime they are fighting.

“So many of these stories are what we grew up with, and they were definitely influences. The scrappy people trying to make a living or rebel against a higher power, or the slick luxury communism of Star Trek,” says Lam. “What’s great and terrible about space is how you are often stuck on a ship with people, for better or worse. That isolation can breed really interesting character conflict and deep bonds. You have to have your crew’s back, otherwise space or alien plants are too large or dangerous [to survive].”

While the “Seven” duology is very much inspired by this genre of space adventure, it also brings these stories’ underlying political themes to the surface.

“What I enjoy most about space operas is taking contemporary socio-cultural and political issues and exploring them through a different lens,” says May. “I love to think of them in terms of exploration, analogous to ships navigating the vastness of a sea. And on journeys that long, with only the ocean and saltwater (space) around you, things become fraught. Yes, these are tales of survival, but they’re also tales of what it means to question the world around you. Aside from the cultural questions that [premise] raises, it opens possibilities for conflict, character bonding, and worldbuilding.”

In Yudhanjaya Wijeratne’s novel, The Salvage Crew, his ensemble don’t spend long on their ship. In the opening scene, they are plummeting through the atmosphere of an alien planet in a drop-pod piloted by an AI who is also the book’s narrator. But the book shares that sense of characters who need to stick close together in the face of a large and dangerous universe.

“What did I like about [space team stories]? Well, always the sense of wonder that the scale brought me: the feeling that Earth, and all our bickering, was just a tiny speck of dust – what Sagan called ‘the pale blue dot’ – and out there was an entire universe waiting to be explored,” Wijeratne says. “I treasured the darkness, as well: the darkness of the void, the tragedy of people in confined spaces, and a terror of the deep that only the deep sea brings me. It wasn’t the family attitude: it was more the constraints and the clever plays within terrifyingly close constraints. There’s a kind of grim, lunatic nihilism you need for those situations, and I loved seeing that.”

When asked for their favourite examples of the genre, one name kept coming up. Wijeratne, Anders, Lam, and May all recommended the Wayfarers books by Becky Chambers. The first in the series, A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet, concerns the crew not of an elite space naval vessel, or a renegade crew of space criminals, but of a ship that lays hyperspace tunnels for other, more glamorous ships to travel through. This job of space road-laying is one that I can only recall seeing once before, much more catastrophically, in the Vogon Constructor Fleet of Hitchhiker’s Guide the Galaxy. A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet is a very different tale, however.

May tells us, “It’s a quieter space tale, a novel that feels very much like a warm hug. I love it with all my heart.”

Chambers doesn’t hold back when describing the impact this genre had on her growing up.

“I can’t remember life without these stories,” she says. “TNG first aired when I was three years old, and I watched Trek every week with my family until Voyager wrapped when I was sixteen. I can recite most of the original Star Wars trilogy word for word while I’m watching the movies, and I binged Farscape like my life depended on it when I was in college. This storytelling tradition is so much a part of my fabric that I have a hard time articulating what it is I like about it so much. It’s just a part of me, at this point. These stories are fun, full stop. They’re exciting. They can break your heart and crack you up in equal measure. They’re about small little clusters of people doing extraordinary things within an impossibly vast and beautiful universe. Everything about my work is rooted here. I can’t imagine who I’d be without these stories.”

The Unchosen Ones

Perhaps a big part of the appeal of these stories is that they are about an ensemble of people, each with their own stories and goals and perspectives. It can be refreshing where science fiction and fantasy frequently centre stories of “the Chosen One”, be it a slayer, boy wizard, or Jedi who is the person the narrative happens to. While Chosen One stories will frequently have a wide supporting cast, the emphasis for those other characters is frequently on the “supporting”.

“I very intentionally wanted to do something other than a ‘chosen one’ story with Wayfarers. I’m not sure I can speak to any broader trend in this regard, but with my own work, I really wanted to make it clear that the universe belongs to everybody in equal measure,” Chambers says. “Space opera is so often the realm of heroes and royalty, and I love those stories, but there’s a parallel there to how we think about space in the real world. Astronauts are and have always been an exceptional few. I wanted to shift the narrative and make it clear that we all have a place out there, and that even the most everyday people have stories worth telling.”

It’s an increasingly popular perspective. Perhaps it’s telling that one of the most recent Star Trek spin-offs, Lower Decks, focuses not on the super-heroic bridge crew, but the underlings and red shirts that do their dirty work, and that in turn echoes the ultra-meta John Scalzi novel, Redshirts.

Charlie Jane Anders’ recently released young adult novel, Victories Greater Than Death is a story that starts off with an almost archetypical “Chosen One” premise. The story’s protagonist, Tina, is an ordinary teenage girl, but is also the hidden clone of the hero of a terrible alien war. But as the story progresses, it evolves into something much more like an ensemble space adventure.

“I was definitely thinking about that a lot in this book in particular,” Anders says. “Tina keeps thinking of the other earth kids as a distraction from her heroic destiny or as people she needs to protect. Her friend Rachael is the one who keeps pushing for them to become a family and finally gets through to Tina.”

Seven Devils (and its upcoming sequel, Seven Mercies) is also a story that tries to focus on the exact people who would never be considered “chosen” or who have wilfully turned away from their destiny.

“I do like that most of them [the characters] are those the Tholosians wrote off as unimportant–people to be used for their bodies, and not encouraged to use their minds,” Lam says. “And Eris’s journey turning away from the life chosen for her and choosing her own, but having to wrangle with what she still did for the Empire before she did, makes her a very interesting character to write. In many ways, she was complicit, and she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to atone.”

Wijeratne also argues that an ensemble story is in many ways more true to life.

“Rarely in life do you find this Randian John Galt type, this solo hero that changes the world by themselves; more often you find a group of people with similar interests, covering for each other, propping each other up,” he says. “It’s how we humans, as a species, have evolved. Our strength is not in our individual prowess, but in the fact that three people working together can take down a mammoth, and a thousand people working together can raise a monument to eternity.”

While there are certainly themes and kinds of story that are more suited to ensemble storytelling, May points out that there is plenty of room for both kinds of story.

“Having written books that explore both, I find that Chosen One narratives are often stories of duty, obligation, and self-discovery,” she says. “Ensemble narratives often involve themes of acceptance and friendship bonds. To me, these serve different narrative functions and ask separate questions.”

A Space of Their Own

The spaceship-crews-on-adventures subgenre is one of the major pillars of science fiction as a whole, with the trope codifier, Star Trek, being likely one of the first names that comes to mind when you think of the genre. This means that the writers working within the subgenre are not only heavily influenced by what came before, they are also in conversation, and sometimes argument with it.

Paul Cornell is a huge Star Trek fan, and has written for the characters before. His upcoming novella, Rosebud, features the quite Star Trek-ish scenario of a crew of AIs, some formerly humans, some not, investigating an anomaly. It’s a story that very much intersects with the ideals of Star Trek.

“Rosebud is about a crew who are meant to believe in something, but no longer really do,” Cornell says. “They’re a bunch of digital beings with varying origins, some of whom were once human, some of whom weren’t. There’s a conflict under the surface that nobody’s talking about, and when they encounter, in a very Trek way, an anomalous object, it’s actually a catalyst for their lives changing enormously. I’m a huge fan of the Trek ethos. I like good law, good civilisation, civil structures that do actually allow everyone to live their best lives, and Rosebud is about how far we’ve got from that, and a passion for getting back to that path.”

Other stories more explicitly react against the more dated or normative conventions in the genre. Seven Devils, for instance, both calls out and subverts the very male demographics of a lot of these stories.

“For a lot of ensemble casts, you get the token woman (Guardians of the Galaxy, for example) and until recently, things were fairly heteronormative,” Lam says. “So we basically wanted to turn things around and have a gang of mostly queer women being the ones to save the universe. We also went hard on critiquing imperialism and monarchies with too much power.”

Indeed, the “space exploration” that is the cornerstone of much of the genre, is an idea deeply rooted in a colonialist, and often racist tradition.

I’ve written my own space ensemble story, an ongoing series of four “planet of the week” style novellas, Fermi’s Progress. One of my concerns with the genre is how often the hero spaceship will turn up at a “primitive” planet, then overthrow a dictator, or teach the women about this human concept called “love”, or otherwise solve the local’s century’s old, deeply rooted societal problems in half-an-hour and change in a way that felt extremely “white colonialists going out and fixing the universe”.

My solution was simple. In Fermi’s Progress, the crew’s prototype spaceship has an experimental FTL drive that unfortunately vaporises every planet they visit as they fly away. It’s a device that riffs off the “overturn a planet’s government then never mention them again” trope of planet-of-the-week stories, keeps the ship and crew moving, and leaves the reader in no doubt as to whether or not these “explorers” are beneficial to the places they visit.

Of course, not every effort to engage with these issues needs to be so dramatic.

“Since I tend to view space operas in terms of uncharted exploration, it’s crucial that the text addresses or confronts power issues in its various forms: who has it, who suffers from it, how is it wielded?” May says. “And sometimes those questions have extraordinarily messy and complicated answers in ways that do not fit neatly with ‘good team overthrows evil empire.’ One of the things I wanted to address was this idea of ‘rebels are the good guys.’ Who gets to be a good person? Who else pays the price for morality? In Seven Devils, the character of Eris ends up doing the dirty, violent work of the rebellion so the others can sleep at night–so that they can feel they’ve made moral and ethical choices. And for that same work, she’s also judged more harshly by those in the rebellion who get to have clear consciences because of her actions.”

“I had particular beef with the homogeneity,” says Wijeratne. “An entire planet where x race was of an identical sentiment? Pfft. At the same time, this naive optimism, that people can work together on a planetary scale to set up institutions and megastructures without enormous amounts of politics and clashes. I was most frustrated with this in Clarke’s work. [Rendezvous with] Rama in particular: it just didn’t compute with what I knew of people.”

As a consequence of the genre’s colonialist roots—not to mention the nature of most real spaceflight programmes—space in these stories can feel like an extremely militarised space. Even a gang of misfits, fugitives and renegades like the Farscape cast features at least a couple of trained soldiers at any one time.

“I didn’t want my characters to be just redshirts or ensigns, who get ordered around and seldom get to take much initiative,” Anders points out. “And I was interested in exploring the notion that a space force organized by non-humans might have very different ideas about hierarchy and might not have concepts like ‘chain of command’. I tried not to fall unthinkingly into the military tropes that Trek, in particular, is prone to.”

Chambers was also driven by a desire to show people who were working in space without wearing a uniform.

“I wanted to tell space stories that weren’t about war or military politics,” she explains. “These things exist in the Wayfarers universe, and I personally love watching a space battle as much as anybody, but I think it’s sad if the only stories we tell about the future are those that focus on new and inventive ways of killing each other. Human experience is so much broader than that, and we are allowed to imagine more.”

Getting the Band Together

Writing a story built around an ensemble, rather than a single main character, brings its own challenges with it. In many ways, creating a central protagonist is easy. The story has to happen to somebody. Creating an ensemble can be tricker. Each character needs to feel like they’re the protagonist of their own story, but also the cast is in many ways a tool box for the writer to bring different perspectives and methods to bear on the issue at the centre of their story. Different writers take very different approaches to how they put that toolbox together.

“I had some types I wanted to play with, and I was consciously allowing myself to go a little wild, so they get to push against the walls of my own comfort zone,” Cornell says of the AI crew in Rosebud. “I created a group of very different people, tried them against each other, and edited them toward the most interesting conflicts that suited my theme.”

Anders also went through various iterations in assembling her cast of characters for Victories Greater Than Death.

“I went through a huge process of trial and error, figuring out exactly how many Earth characters I wanted in the book and how to introduce them,” she says. “I wanted characters who had their own reason for being there and who would either challenge Tina or represent a different viewpoint somehow. I think that’s usually how you get an interesting ensemble, by trying to have different viewpoints in the mix.”

In writing Fermi’s Progress, I very much tried to cut the crew from whole cloth, thinking of them primarily as a flying argument. Thinking about the original Star Trek crew, most of the stories are driven by the ongoing debate between Spock’s pragmatism, McCoy’s emotions, and Kirk’s sense of duty, and so the Fermi’s crew was written to have a number of perspectives that would be able to argue interestingly about the different things they would encounter.

Others, however, focus strongly on the individual characters before looking at how they fit together.

“I gravitate much more toward writing multiple POVs than sticking with just one. Character dynamics are catnip to me, and I love to play with them from all angles. But building each character is a very individual sort of process,” Chambers says. “I want each of them to feel like a whole person, and I’m struggling to think of any I’ve created to complete another. I just spend some time with a character all on their own, then start making them talk to each other — first in pairs, then in larger groups. I shuffle those combinations around until everybody comes alive.”

In writing Seven Devils, May and Lam began with a core pair of characters, then built outwards.

“El [Lam] and I each started with a single character we wanted to explore,” May recalls. “For me, it was Eris, who also had the benefit of being an exploration of thorny issues of morality. Eris’ natural foil was Clo–conceived of by El–who believes in the goodness of the rebellion. From there, our cast expanded as different aspects of imperial oppression that we wanted to address: colonial expansion via the military, brainwashing, the use of artificial intelligence. Each character provides a unique perspective of how the Empire in Seven Devils functions and how it crushes autonomy and self-determination.”

“We started with Eris and Clo,” Lam agrees. “Eris is sort of like Princess Leia if she and Luke had been raised by Darth Vader but she realised the Empire was evil and faked her own death to join the rebellion. Clo has elements of Luke in that she grew up on a backwater planet where things go wrong, but it was overpopulated versus wide open desert with a few moons. She also just has a lot more fury and rage that doesn’t always go in the right direction. Then we created the other three women they meet later in the narrative, and did a combination of using archetypes as jumping off points (courtesan, mercenary, genius hacker) but taking great care crafting their backstories and motivations and how they all related to each other.”

Ensuring that every character has their own story to be the protagonist of is something you can trace right back through the genre- particularly with series like Farscape, Firefly, and the more recent Intergalactic, where the crews often feels thrown together by circumstance and the characters are very much pursuing their own goals.

Balancing all of these different perspectives and voices is the real trick, especially if you want to avoid slipping back into the set-up of a star protagonist and their backing singers.

“This was a bit of a struggle, especially in a book with a single pov,” Anders says. “In the end all I could do was give each character their own goals and ideals that aren’t just an extension of Tina’s. It really helps if people have agendas that aren’t just related to the main plot.”

“We have five point of view characters and seven in the sequel, and it was definitely a challenge,” Lam admits. “For the first book, we started with just Eris and Clo until the reader was situated, and then added in the other three. We gave each character their own arc and problem to solve, and essentially asked ourselves ‘if [X] was the protagonist, what would they journey be?’ Which is useful to ask of any character, especially the villains!”

Chambers has a surprisingly practical solution to the problem: colour-coded post-it notes.

“Some characters will naturally have more weight in the story than others, but I do try to balance it out,” Chambers says. “One of the practical tricks I find helpful is colour-coding post-it notes by POV character, then mapping out all the chapters in the book on the wall. That makes it very easy to see who the dominant voices are, and I can adjust from there as needed.”

A Ship with Character

One cast member these stories all have in common is the ship they travel in. Sometimes the ship is a literal character in itself, such as the organic ship Moya in Farscape, but even when not actually sentient, the ship will help set the tone for the entire story, whether it’s the sweeping lines and luxurious interiors of the Enterprise D, or the cosy, hand-painted communal kitchen of Serenity. When describing the Fermi in my own story, I made it a mix of real and hypothetical space technology, and pure nonsense, in a way that felt like the story’s mission statement.

Seven Devils’ stolen imperial ship, “Zelus”, likewise reflected the themes of the book.

“Our ship is called Zelus, and it begins as a symbol of Empire but gradually becomes a home,” Lam says. “They took it back for themselves, which I think mirrors a lot of what the characters are trying to do.”

The same was true of the “Indomitable”, the ship Tina would inherit in Victories Greater Than Death.

“The main thing I needed from the Indomitable was to be a slightly run down ship on its own, far from any backup,” Anders says. “I did have a lot of fun coming up with all the ways the ship’s systems work. In the second book I introduce a starship that is a little more idiosyncratic, let’s say.”

For Cornell, the spaceship at the heart of Rosebud was an extension of the characters themselves, almost literally.

“It’s a kind of magical space, in that the interior is largely digital, and reflects the personalities of the crew,” he says. “There’s an interesting gap between the ship’s interior and the real world, and to go explore the artefact, our crew have to pick physical bodies to do it in. Their choices of physical body again tell us something about who they are.”

“My background is in theater, so I am always thinking about what kind of ‘set’ I’m working with,” Chambers tells us. “Colour, lighting, props, and stage layout are very important to me. I want these to feel like real, lived-in environments, but they also communicate a lot to the reader about who the people within these spaces are. Kizzy’s workspace tells a completely different story than, say, Roveg’s shuttle, or Pepper’s house. I spend a lot of time mulling over what sorts of comforts each character likes to keep around them, what food they like to have on hand, and so on. These kinds of details are crucial for painting a full picture.”

Stellar Dynamics

When he was writing the cast of The Salvage Crew, Wijeratne fleshed out his characters by focusing on how they relate to one another.

“My cast tends to be more of ‘what’s the most interesting mix I can bring to this situation, where’s the tragedy, and where’s the comedy?’ I go through a bit of an iterative process – I come up with one stand-out attribute for the character that makes sense given the world I’m about to throw them into,” he says. “Then the question is: what’s a secondary quirk, or part of their nature, that makes them work well with the others, or is somehow critical? What’s a tertiary facet to them that really rubs the others the wrong way?

“Then I take those quirks and go back to the other characters, and ask why do they respond to these things? What about their backstory makes them sympathize with one thing and want to pummel the other into dust? By the time this back-and-forth is complete, I’ve got enough that the characters feel like they really do have shit to get done in this world, and really do have some beef with each other. They have backstory and things they react to really badly and situations they’re going to thrive in.”

In The Salvage Crew, this included Simon a geologist who crew up plugged into a PVP MMORPG and who hasn’t really adjusted to the real world, Anna, a wartime medic who has PTSD around blood, and Milo, who is a decent all-arounder, but has problems with authority, particular women in authority.

In the best-loved stories of this sub-genre, it’s not just the strong characters, but the relationships between those characters that people love. Spock and McCoy, Geordi and Data, Jayne and Book working out together in Firefly. Even in the protagonist-heavy Mass Effect, some of the best character moments don’t involve Shepard, but are the character interactions you eavesdrop or walk in on while wandering around the Normandy.

“I think we’ve all experienced being flung together with a group of workmates, and nobody asking us if we like everyone there,” Cornell says. “And how the smallest quirks of personality can come to mean everything over several centuries.”

Getting those relationships to feel organic and natural is the real trick, and it can take endless writing and rewriting to get there.

“For me, it’s usually a lot of gold-farming,” Anders says. “I will write a dozen scenes of characters hanging out or dealing with stuff, and then pick two or three of them to include in the book. I can’t write relationships unless I’ve spent a lot of time with them.”

Often it’s a question of balancing conflict and camaraderie among the group.

“It’s easy to want to go straight to banter between characters, which is a massive benefit of ensemble casts. But I also think it’s essential that they have moments of conflict,” says May. “Not just drama for drama’s sake, but in any friendship group, boundaries often have to be established and re-established. Sometimes those boundaries come from past traumas, and taking moments to explore those not only adds dimensionality, but shows how the character unit itself functions.”

For May and Lam it helped that their ensemble cast was being written by an ensemble itself.

“Having both of us work on them really helped them come to life,” Lam says. “Their voices were easier to differentiate because we’d often take the lead on a certain character. So if I wrote a Clo chapter, I didn’t always know how exactly Eris might react in her next chapter, or Elizabeth might change Eris’s dialogue in that initial Clo scene to better fit what was coming up. As co-writers, we were in conversation with each other as much as the characters, and that’s quite fun. We tend to work at different times of the day, so I’d load up the manuscript in the morning and wonder what’s happened next to our crew during the night and read to find out. We also did a lot of work on everyone’s past, so we knew what they wanted, what they feared, what lies about themselves they believed, how they might change and grow through the story as a result of meeting each other, and therefore the characters tended to develop more organically on the page.”

For Wijeratne, the thing that really brings the characters’ relationships into focus is a crisis, and it’s true. Across these stories, more often than not you want your space team to be working together against a common challenge, not obsessed with in-fighting among themselves.

“The skeleton of what you saw was the output of an algorithm. A series of Markov chains generating events, playing on the fact that humans are extraordinarily good at seeing patterns in random noise,” Wijeratne says. “But the skeleton needs skin and muscle, and that’s more or less drawn from the kind of high-stress situations that I’ve been a part of: flood relief efforts, factchecking and investigating in the face of terrorism and bombings, even minor stuff like being in Interact projects with people I really didn’t want to be working with. I find that there are make-or-break moments in how people respond to adversity: either they draw together, and realize they can get over their minor differences, or they cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war.”

Found Family

Whether we’re talking about Starfleet officers, browncoats, rebel scum or galaxy guardians, these crews are rarely just colleagues or even teammates. They are family.

“I think it goes back to many space operas ultimately being survival tales: whether that’s surviving in the vastness of space or against an imperial oppressor,” May says. “These stories bring unrelated characters closer together in a way that goes beyond the bonds of blood. ‘Found family’ is a powerful bond predicated on acceptance and respect rather than duty.”

It’s a topic at the heart of Seven Devils, set in a galaxy where the regime in power has done all it can to eliminate the concept of “Family”, but Lam also believes the found family is something extremely important to marginalised groups.

“In ours, the Tholosians have done their best to erase the concept of family entirely–most people are grown in vats and assigned their jobs from birth. You might feel some sort of sibling bond with your soldier cohort, perhaps, but most people don’t have parents,” Lam says. “Rebellion is incredibly difficult, as your very mind has been coded to be obedient and obey. So those who have managed to overcome that did so with incredible difficulty, and found each other and bonded among what they had in common. You see it in our world as well of course–the marginalised tend to be drawn to each other for support they might not find elsewhere, and the bonds are just as deep or deeper than family you’re related to by blood (just look at drag families, where you have a drag mother or daughter, for example).”

“Found family is definitely a strong narrative thread,” Wijeratne agrees. “I think it stems from an incredibly persistent process in our lives – in human lives: we grow up, we outgrow the people we are born among, and we go out into the world to find our tribe, so to speak. And this is a critical part of maturity, of striking out on out own, of becoming comfortable with who we are and realizing who we’ll be happy to battle alongside and who we’d rather kick in the meat and potatoes.

“Space, of course, is such a perfect physical representation of this process. What greater ‘going out’ is there than in leaving aside the stale-but-certain comfort of the space station or planet and striking out for the depths? What better idea of finding a family than settling in with a crew? And what better embodiment of freedom than a void where only light can touch you, but even then after years?”

Of course, the “Found Family” isn’t exclusive to spaceship crews. It’s a theme that we see everywhere from superhero movies to sitcoms, reflecting some of the bigger social shifts happening in the real world. As Cornell points out, one of the very first spaceship ensembles shows, Lost in Space, was based around a far more traditional family.

“I think one of the big, central parameters of change in the modern world is the move from biological family being the most important thing to found family being the most important, the result of a series of generation gaps caused by technological, ecological and societal change happening so fast that generations now get left behind,” Cornell says. “So all our stories now have found family in them, and we can’t imagine taking old family into space. The new Lost in Space, for example, had to consciously wrestle with that. And even in the original, there’s a reason the found family of Billy and Dr. Smith is the most interesting relationship. It’s the only one where we don’t immediately know what the rules are meant to be.”

To make a huge generalisation, that sense of “not immediately knowing what the rules are meant to be” might be the key to the genre’s appeal. After all, if your space exploration is closer to the ideals of the Star Trek model than they are to Eddie Izzard’s “Flag” sketch, then it’s about entering an alien environment where you don’t know the rules. If there are aliens, your space heroes will be trying to reach out and understand them. But for the writer, whether those aliens are humanoids with funny foreheads or jellyfish that only talk in the third person, the aliens will still be, behind however many layers of disguise, human. We really struggle to imagine what it’s like to be anything else. Perhaps our spaceship crew’s efforts in communicating with and understanding those aliens is reflected in their efforts to understand each other.

Seven Devils, by Elizabeth May and Laura Lam, is out now, as is The Salvage Crew by Yudhanjaya Wijeratne, Victories Greater Than Death by Charlie Jane Anders, and A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers. Rosebud, by Paul Cornell, will be out in April 2022.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The first two parts of Chris Farnell’s serial, Fermi’s Progress, Dyson’s Fear and Descartesmageddon, are also out now, or the season pass for all four novellas is for sale at Scarlet Ferret.

The post How Science Fiction’s Ensemble Stories Humanize Space appeared first on Den of Geek.

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rabbirose · 5 years ago

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Antisemitism and Chanukah’s Hopeful and Challenging Demand

Dear friends,

Chanukah begins Sunday night, as your children or grandchildren surely have reminded you. We are familiar with Chanukah’s powerful message of Jewish survival and independence. We recall the great battle against Seleucid religious oppression and Greek-Hellensitic cultural values.

I share this Chanukah message against the background of the by now well-known uptick in hateful antisemitic attacks. These vile gestures from people bred on hate or terribly misled, whose paranoic world view is satisfied only by the identification of some imagined enemy - they will not deter us. We must not despair, but we must take a stand.

With these recent shocking attacks hitting the headlines with frightening frequency these past weeks, Chanukah comes to deliever a message. At a time of increasing antisemitism seemingly from all quarters the determined resistance of our Maccabean forbears should inspire us. Jews have sent to the modern world the message that that we won’t be pushed around, diminished, or deterred and will protect our people and ensure our future. We should proudly identify ourselves as Jews, take special delight in our traditions, and must continue to fight to make sure that we and our children are safe.

The greater danger at this moment, however, is assimilation. Now, we usually mean by that word the abandonment of distinctly Jewish ways, habits, dress, the dissolution of Jewish rituals in deep waters of mainstream culture. When we were young we learned that the message was about the Maccabees fighting assimilation against Hellenism and that we were to do the same. In our highly integrated world and in our own syangogue community in which family members who are not Jewish are a welcome part of our synagogue family, the outlines of this story might be uncomfortable (Set aside the fact that this is a significant distortion of the actual story of Chanukah; see, for example this article from historian John Ma (http://marginalia.lareviewofbooks.org/re-examining-hanukkah/).

But assimilation of a different kind ought to be our focus: the loss of Jewish religious values in the face the larger cultural sphere. I am less concerned with whether a little Jewish girl wears a kippah or has yet learned about kashrut than I am whether she understands that to be a Jew means to stand for something beautiful. I am less focused on whether the adults in our community are keeping Shabbes than I am about whether we feel called upon at this moment to be courageous and to deliver a truly counter-cultural message.

Chanukah means dedication and refers to the re-dedication of the Temple after it was sullied by our oppressors. In this moment we should fight the assimilation of Jewish values and dedicate ourselves to what our Torah and our God demand of us.

So, eight ideas for what it means to stand strong as a Jew at this time.

At a moment of shocking antisemitism and bigotry we dedicate ourselvse to hesed and shalom.

At a moment in which swaths of the polity find joy in screaming “you don’t belong here” we dedicate ourselves to rahamim (compassion) and hachnasat orchim, welcoming the stranger.

At a moment of rapacious capitalism and unimaginable inequality we dedicate ourselves justice and tzedakah.

At a moment of alarming materialsm we return to a life centered on Torah and love of God.

At a moment of ever increasing sexualization of women and girls we dedicate ourselves to the Torah’s teaching that women are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of god, and that failing to view and treat women as full persons is a sin.

At a moment in which people are beholden to amusement and distraction we dedicate ourselves to spritual learning and kavanah (deep focus and attention).

At a moment of cynicism and nihilism we dedicate ourselves to hope and possiblity.

At a moment in which too many turn inward - out of cruelty or indifference - to their own circle, we remember God’s ancient charge that we be a blessing to all people and that all people are worthy of blessing.

May we stand united and strong as Jews. The ugly antisemitism of this moment will pass if we fight it. I truly believe that. The Jewish gift to the world are the values that it so desperately needs. May we, our children, and our children’s children always ward away the darkness with the light of Torah. This light sometimes looks to be in short supply, but is never, ever exhausted. Our rededication to it in each generation is the true miracle of Chanukah.

Shabbat Shalom and happy Chanukah!

Rabbi Rose

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polly-chan · 6 years ago

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V for Vendetta and The Anarchy

V for Vendetta is a British graphic novel written by Alan Moore and illustrated by David Lloyd. I really love this comic and that’s why I want to share with You an analysis about it.

“Remember, Remember! The fifth of November, the Gunpowder treason and plot; there is no reason why the Gunpowder treason should ever be forgot”: in 1605 Guy Fawkse tried to blow up the British Parliament, performing the first revolutionary act in his country to end the English monarchy. His plot, however, is discovered and he is sentenced to death. As the graphic novel (and movie too) teaches History is written by the winners while losers become the bad guys and for this reason they teach us to remember ideas and not men: men can fail, but ideas are immortal. V for Vendetta takes place in a post apocalyptic world upset by a nuclear war, the united kingdom has sunk into chaos until the emergence of the Norsefire party intimating positions and promising to making England great again, ending up creating a police state. Norsefire is the fictional Nordic supremacist and neo-fascist political party in which people are indoctrinated through the media and five organs rule the dictatorship: the Finger (the hitting police), the Eye (controls everything with the cameras), the Ear (which intercepts and spies over the citizens), the Nose (the scientific police) and the Voice (i.e. the television, led by Prothero). Strength through Unity, Unity through faith: Good win, Bad forgiveness and as always England dominates. All minorities are oppressed: Muslims, homosexuals, dissidents, in all totalitarianisms there is always a target. Moreover, it’s a strongly male-dominated dictatorship. Totalitarism places control of the lower classes by the higher classes, which in fact are the minority. The goal of totalitarianism is to create a scapegoat on which to vent popular anger and justify ethically questionable actions.

Evey is a sixteen year old forced into prostitution who is about to be raped by the Finger, but V saves her. When Evey asks him who he is V answers that “Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask” (as Pirandello would have said), the identity is a consequence of the showing of the Ego and therefore it makes no sense to ask a masked man who he is since the function is hidden. Here we can see how the mask plays an important role in this story, becoming an important symbol of freedom and we’ll see why soon.

V presents himself with a very long, poetic and dramatic speech, in which he declares himself the protector of the Vox populi: he is an avenger of people. A shakesperian hero who seems to see all London as its stage. A musician, ready to give a show. He turns to the statue of justice saying he loves her, but she is a woman of easy virtue and has betrayed him:

She has prostituted herself with a uniform, this because the extreme search for justice leads to the loss of freedom. This is why V found his new lover, the Anarchy: philosophy separated from Marxism because of Bakunin’s inspiration, according to which it is necessary to overcome the capitalist system and abolish the State, but without going through a phase of socialist transition and immediately abolishing the state, because even socialism is an oppression.

The music that V leads at the feet of Old Bailey turns out to be the prelude to a gigantic explosion, a demonstration of violence that arises from classical music. Then government begins media manipulation showing how mass media should not be trusted. Adam Satler is a clear reference to Adolf Hitler, but also to Margaret Tatcher: as a matter of fact, the comic is born as a criticism of her ultra-conservative and liberal government that ignored the needs of the poorest in favor of large companies. Satler says they have to remind people why they need them (like the metaphor of Hegel’s servant): in the comic strip he is clearly fascist, but he is not a monster: He is obsessed with Faith (the super computer that analyzes the situation), he prays and he is also a fragile figure. Moore shows that even fascists know how to be human, there are no absolute bad guys.

TV is intercepted and V’s long speech begins, He wants to remind England of what he has forgotten:

The government is already trying to shut it down “Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there?”. Communication is the alliance among men, while the truncheon is the short way to impose a vision without the other can accept it.

It is the people who elected Hitler, but he understands why: there were so many problems, war, terrorism and disease. All dictatorships, we always start with a crisis. A Man promised to bring back the truth, but in exchange for silent consent. The destruction of Old Bailey serves as a reminder that justice and equity are perspective and not words.

V begins to kill several senior members of the party who command different organs of the dictatorship. But who the real terrorist is? Who decides the difference between those who fight for or against the freedom? We can consider totalitarianism as a closed system where not all ideas are allowed, therefore those who repress ideas and freedoms are the real bombers of democracy. Evey is the anti-revolutionary one who wants to change totalitarianism from within without realizing that great freedoms and constitutional values we owe to them thanks to violent revolutions and no dictator voluntarily surrenders their privileges. Moreover, for V there are no certainties, only opportunities and “People shouldn’t be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people”. The revolutionary act is the necessary means to reach the end, the lesser evil.

V is a Shakespearian hero and he often mentions it, also obviously inspired by the Count of Montecristo. Wearing a mask V is no longer a man, but an idea and so he can be free to say what he truely thinks. to be human without limitations. V explains to Evey that “Anarchy wears two faces, both creator and destroyer. Thus destroyers topple empires; make a canvas of clean rubble where creators then can build another world. Rubble, once achieved, makes further ruins’ means irrelevant”:

The destructive face is the active and superhuman nihilism that destroys power, to return to the terrible state of nature of Hobbes. The creator one wants an order without the head, not without rules. This is what anarchy dreams about: a society without a head, where people cooperate on a solidarity basis and are able to determine themselves.

By the way, V forced the people to break free as he forced Evey through the prison deception, but he ends to realize that the choice of what the new world will be is not up to him. In full anarchist style he dies for not becoming the next leader, but leaving to the people the possibility to decide for themselves:

#v for vendetta #alan moore #david lloyd #graphic novel #britain #meta

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moczothe1st · 6 years ago

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Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 30: Man, oh Man, oh Manfroy

Part 29

Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War. Last week, we fought off like six armies all at once, and it was miserable, but on the plus side Hilda died. I think every game would be better if Hilda died. This week, we finish taking her castle and… *sigh* And we regret it, probably. This week, we start off mid-turn, so after moving most of my southern front up north toward the action, I end my turn and let the remainder of Hilda’s dorks take their shot.

… Why couldn’t they have gone down that easy last week, huh?!

Now, on our turn, the enemy is down to four dark mages with staves, and one dark bishop with a siege tome in the castle. I have Fee cut down one of the former…

And have Larcei and Seliph talk about love, because honestly I’m actually in no big hurry to finish this castle.

Larcei: I’m coming with you on this one!

Seliph: Of course you’re welcome to… but why?

Larcei: It’s odd… I’m actually a little scared…

Seliph: Odd indeed! If there’s one thing you’ve never been known for, it’s fear.

Larcei: It’s… I just…

Seliph: Shhh. I understand. Now come! After all, what could ever inspire courage quite like having you at my side.

(… Damn, Seliph, smooth like silk. You win a little more of my respect, bro.)

Larcei: Seliph…

This conversation gives Seliph +1 to his Strength; it was apparently supposed to be +3, but he was actually only one point away from his (oddly low) cap. Apparently Seliph only has a natural 25 strength cap! That seems weird considering his descent from Sigurd the Humungous.

And… sigh. Guess I should kill the stupid boss.

All right. Nothing left but sleep staves, and they can’t really hurt us. I have Fee and Altena purge them.

And now we have the problem dealt with. A little jumping around before I set off the next story segment; I have Finn zapped home, where he repairs and sells his Brave Lance. I’m going to have Fee buy it after we take Freege. Sorry, Finn, but you’re kind of just not holding up; you lasted longer than I expected you too, but despite being decent on offense you’re just kind of fragile. Oifey will also be benched here, I think, he can stay to defend Freege castle after we take it. Thankfully…

… The game is polite enough to tell us where the next part of the chapter will be coming from. So I do spend a turn or two moving the kids up to this gate and ready to rock. Seliph?

Seliph: But I can’t help but wonder… are the children at Belhalla still unharmed? I pray they are…

Lewyn: Funny you should say that!

(That’s not really the appropriate response to dying children.)

Lewyn: We’ve got a visitor who’s got a bit of news on that front, Seliph.

(“I’ve seen… terrible things. Thank the gods I have no sister, for I fear I would never be able to look her in the eyes again.”)

Felipe: On secret orders from His Majesty, the abducted children were moved here to Freege for safe-keeping.

(Orders so secret that we never actually got to see Arvis give them in that whole scene where he was desperately trying to save all the children at Chalphy and failing, being immediately caught, and then getting cowed into submission by a man infinitely less powerful than himself. STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR ARVIS, GAME.)

Felipe: Rest easy, sire. They’re all hiding in the city’s abbey, and they’re all in good health.

Seliph: And all under Hilda’s nose, at that! That you’ve kept every last child safe in Hilda’s own city… color me impressed!

Felipe: Actually, sire… Princess Ishtar deserves your thanks. Without her generous aid given in secret, we could never have done this. No Imperial soldiers dared come even close to the abbey, on pain of the princess’s wrath.

Seliph: Princess Ishtar?! But why… why would she-

Felipe: Few people in this land are as kind and caring as Princess Ishtar.

FEW PEOPLE IN THIS LAND ARE AS KIND AND CARING AS PRINCESS ISHTAR.

YEAH SHE’S A FUCKIN’ TREASURE.

Felipe: All along, the princess has toiled behind the scenes to aid our cause. It was Princess Ishtar herself who ensured that every last child escaped from the bowels of Belhalla.

(“Then… how comes she’s… you know… literally banging the Devil?” “Technically he’s a ghost dragon.”)

Seliph: I see… at any rate, thank the gods for their safety. I’m certain everyone will be glad to know the children are in good hands. You have my deepest thanks, Lord Felipe.

Lewyn: Well, Seliph, that’s one job done. Good to see we’re finally getting results out of this mess.

(Hey, screw you man, I’ve conquered three quarters of the country.)

Seliph: And yet, Julia still eluds us… where could she possibly be?

Lewyn: The only options left now are Belhalla and Velthomer. It’s got to be one of those two.

Seliph: And Belhalla is where Julius awaits…

Lewyn: Yeah. We’ll need to find Julia first if we want to go anywhere near Belhalla. Without Julia’s power on our side, we won’t have a hope in hell against Julius.

(Again, not technically true, but you really should listen to him on this one.)

Seliph: But no matter what’s happened, Julius is still her brother. Will she even want to fight him…

Lewyn: … You’ll have to convince her.

(I mean, you’ve met Julius. It won’t be super hard.)

Ishtar: This will require that I leave your side, even for a while. I beg your forgiveness.

Julius: Feh.

Julius: Why the rush to get out there so suddenly, Ishtar? All the soldiers they could ever throw at us could never so much as scratch me. Why even bother with those maggots?

Ishtar: Yes, I know… but for me, there is no greater pride than being one of Freege’s great mages.

(“Saving all those children? Doesn’t even compare.”)

Ishtar: My parents and brother lie dead, and I cannot stand to leave their murderers to run amok… please. All I ask is a chance for vengeance.

Julius: It sounds as if what you really want is to following your family to death on a rebel’s blade! Are you so desperate to escape me, Ishtar?

Ishtar: No… nothing like that, Lord Julius. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.

Julius: Hmhmhmhmhm… I know.

Julius: Very well! Fight if you must. I won’t stop you.

Ishtar: Thank you… now, I beg your pardon. Meng! Bleg! Mabel! We sortie at once.

(Oh god, we are really scraping the bottom of the name barrel this time. ‘Meng’? ‘Bleg’?)

Julius: Now, then. I think it’s time we put an end to this sorry show. Deadlords, move out! And order Arion’s unit to attack!

(… wait, what?)

So. You may recall I told you to remember this moment.

It was important for two reasons.

First: This is the moment the war becomes winnable. You see, Manfroy is not… really all that into Loptyr. Oh, he worships him, but it’s not really about loyalty so much as sadism. Manfroy hates the world, and every single human being in it. His overall goal in life is nothing more or less than to make humanity suffer as much as possible. But he’s generally pragmatic about it. He knew the best way to hurt humanity was to revive Loptyr, who possesses incredible powers and views humans as little better than food to eat and pets to abuse. This moment, right here, is the moment that Manfroy, flush with overconfidence in the presence of his god on earth and having enjoyed a long decade and a half tormenting the entire continent, finally makes a mistake. He lets his sadism overpower his common sense for the first time. And in so doing, he gives us a real shot.

Second: Because he’s still Manfroy, he’s a total fuckwad about it.

Remember Ayra? Waaaaaaaaay back in Verdane, remember how we recruited Ayra. How we had to get to a castle to turn her non-hostile to us, only she was between the army and the castle and she was trying to kill us the whole time?

Yeah, that’s happening again. Only it’s Julia, our lil’ atomic vampire gatling gun trying to kill us. Of course she’s just as strong as she was when she was on our side, why would you even ask. Oh, and just for fun…

Here’s the map of what we need to achieve. The blue X is where we are. The red X is where we need to get to save Julia. The ravenous piranha is Ishtar’s army, waiting to pounce upon us and tear us limb from bloody limb. And to her right, marked by the douche, is Julius. You don’t have to fight him, and you in fact definitely should not because getting anywhere near him will also draw the Deadlords out to fight you, but of course has a siege tome now and will cheerfully wreck the shit of anyone who gets anywhere near him, therefore heavily limiting the space we have to move.

And of course, Julia will be trying to kill us the whole time, and we can’t fight back and risk killing her.

And hahaha, yeah, Arion will be showing up soon.

This is not going to be any fun, is what I’m getting at here.

First thing’s first, let’s take a look at our piranha.

Ishtar has taken yet another level in badass; her magic has gone up two points, skill by three, luck by 2, defense by eight, and resistance by one. And this time, she’s got an actual army with her instead of fighting us alone; three Snipers, three Heroes, three Sages, three High Priests with Fortify (of course) staves, and of course…. *snerk*…. Bleg, Meng, and Mabel.

They’re three identical Falcon Knights, both in picture and stats, so I’ll only be showing one of them. Despite the intensely crappy names, they honestly three ridiculously dangerous units. They all have Earth Swords, meaning any hit they land is going to heal them, and they’ll be hitting often what with that maxed-out Speed and solid 23 skill. And to make things worse, they all have the Nihil ability to prevent us from just shooting them down with arrows or relying on Astra to solve our problems.

So! This is going to suck. A lot. But thanks to Ced being awesome, there’s an option I can take to make this a lot more manageable. Lana sells her Silence staff, and he buys it…

And with his 35 fucking magic he can overpower Ishtar’s 32 Resistance to Silence her up to three times, basically removing Mjolnir from the equation for this battle. And Mjolnir is like… half of this battle’s equation.

I literally cannot believe I’ve never tried this before. From here, the army moves forward, Seliph leading the way; he’ll be attacked by quite a lot of people here, but he’s a living iron wall of destruction, and the more of these people I can lure away from the main melee, the better. So. End turn!

(*sigh* Must you, now?)

Arion: Chalphy’s fall to our blades shall be the first step to winning back our fatherland. Now, move in! Show these liberators one final defiance from the drackoknights of Thracia!

A solid enough start! We hurt one Falcon Knight, and didn’t take much damage in return. And now that Ishtar is in range…

Oh, that is delicious. Now, my first goal here is to kill at least one of these three annoyingly fast pega-bitches, but I also have to get Altena (and yes it has to be her, of course it has to be her) down to the castle to intercept Arion. I hate everything forever.

One down! Let’s keep this train rolling and clear out some more jerks.

Two out of three ain’t bad!

Okay, I think that’s about all the damage I’m going to get done this turn. And not bad at all, frankly, so I’m happy. I have Lene dance Altena, and warp her home with Lana.

Ignore the pentagram. It’s a good pentagram. Down at the bottom, Altena equips Gae Bolg and flies to just outside Arion’s range. The rest of his buddies don’t matter at all, but I don’t want her to fight him. There’s a reason for this, of course. It’s unsatisfying, but it makes her happy.

The things I do for my kids, I swear.

End turn.

… Huh. They don’t attack her? Or maybe they can’t damage her. I honestly am not sure.

*sniff*

I remember the last time I played this map.

I died five times on this battle alone.

And now it’s going better than the fight against the fucking Beige Knights.

I don’t understand what’s going on.

Altena: How could you be so craven?! How dare you place your vanity and pride over what truly matters!

(You tell him, honey!)

Arion: What do you want from me, then?

(God, don’t ask her that. This LP is not rated Adults Only.)

Altena: Take a good, hard look at Prince Seliph! Ask yourself, this: why is he still fighting? For whom is he out here day after day, setting his own suffering to the side?

Arion: So Seliph fights for justice, and I somehow do not? Is that what you’re trying to say?

(…. YES!)

Altena: Very well, Arion… if you won’t see reason, so be it. Come on. Kill me. End this. My… my life is in your hands. I die with no regrets.

Arion: A-Altena… very well. You can rest easy now. I get it. I was wrong… my mercenary days are at an end, and my final task is with Seliph. Wait… no. With you. I now fight for you, Altena.

Altena: Arion…

Yeah, it would have been neat if you’d done this a few maps ago, jackass, but Arion is on our side now. Or, well, sorta. He doesn’t join the army, but his unit becomes neutral and are programmed to stay close to Altena and be hostile to any Belhalla units that get near them. I know we all sort of wanted to kill him, but he still has Gungnir and I really just didn’t want to risk a screwup when things are going so well. I mean, I’m not even gonna use him. At this point, letting him get near the enemy would likely result in him rushing Julius and dying, which sorta defeats the point. Let’s just end this; time to wipe out the remains of Ishtar’s unit.

And now, a special treat. Since Ishtar can’t fight, we get to see a conversation that even I have never actually seen.

(…. ‘Nothing but kind’.)

(Just sayin’.)

Ishtar: … I may be in the wrong. But I can’t turn back now. Forgive me, Tinni… please….

And thus passes Princess Ishtar of Freege. She died as she lived: getting nuked by her cousins. And without her leadership stars…

All right. Now, the rest of the army is going to stay right where they fucking are. Julia cannot be trusted to not kill herself, or more troublesome to not kill me. The only people going forward are Seliph and Ares, who are going to go north across the forest, out of Julius’s range, and try to lure Julia into following them. Their resistance is tremendous, and they’re both on horses. Ideally she’ll try to kill them, fail, and be following them and unable to catch up until I can free her. This will take a few turns of nothing but movement because I will not be going anywhere near Julius.

Trust me.

She seeeeeeeeeees uuuuuuuuuuussssss…

Okay. There’s two things that could happen here. She’s either going to go east and cut us off, in which case we’ll be dodging vampire lasers the rest of the map, or she’s going to go north through the forest and we basically win the game. Let’s see!

…. Bitch. Okay, straight west you guys! Hide on the healing church, you beautiful bastards. God, haven’t used one of those in awhile, with those fifty healers in the army lining up to zap everyone with staves.

Dammit, Loptyrians, I am trying to flee in terror from a small woman.

Okay. We can do this. Ares heals up, and all we have to do is clear out those priests and kill Manfroy. Go get ‘em, boys!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Are you fucking kidding me.

Of all the.

That.

You.

HOW.

What the!

NO.

………………

Well. You know all those times when I was questioning my good fortune? The moments where I was like ‘oh, man, I don’t trust how generous the game is being, bet it’s gonna screw me later!’ Well, that just happened.

*sigh*

End turn. If I survive this, I will be genuinely stunned.

Oh hey it’s as though the Hel tome is really easy to dodge and you should have dodged it all along. But here we go…

(How do you know that’s Manfroy? You’ve never met him…)

Manfroy: So I did. And so long as I live, my puppet she shall remain! Hehehehehe! She’s every bit as helpless before my magic as her mother was…

Seliph: I should have known. If not for you, Mother… Gah! All of this misery… all these agonizing years… It was all your doing from the outset!

Manfroy: Heh… of course. Everything I’ve done has led to this moment: the revival of my lord Loptyr. And at last, it is so! Loptyr’s advent in the form of Prince Julius is complete, and darkness shall soon engulf the world. You cannot prevent it. Nobody can…

Seliph: Manfroy, you… Father’s grief… Mother’s despair… if not for you and your foul ambitions, none of this would have ever happened… Damn you, Manfroy! I cannot allow you to win! I will not! You’ll NEVER know mercy for your crimes!

Yeah, not the dramatic win I was hoping for after that great speech. But I guess I saw that coming. Reset! I start off a little differently; Seliph and Ares park themselves on trees. With the 20% dodge bonus, they should have no chance of being hit by Hel, and very little of being hit by Julia. We need to clear out these Dark Mages before we go for Manfroy.

Better! This repeats for all of them; one actually dies because they’re forced to attack at close-range thanks to being blocked off by their own buddies, which is great.

Yeah, yeah.

He only does one damage. Seliph could have survived him with no problem in any other situation. I hate this game sometimes. On our turn, I have Ares and Seliph each clear out a mage…

Then immediately go hide in the woods again. I am playing this as cautious as humanly possible, honestly. Better to spend three turns killing mages than let the reset counter jump up above the number of updates.

The enemy misses again on their turn, because they literally can’t not miss. Two more deaths…

All right! That’s that for dark mages. On the next turn, Ares is going to park his butt on the healing church forever, and Seliph goes to fight Manfroy.

You stay out of this.

Now then. It’s time. It’s time to face Manfroy himself. In direct combat. The enemy behind it all! The dark schemer who has given over our kingdom to the dark god. And he…

Is a loser. I mean, he’s not the worst enemy in the game. He’s okay. But he’s definitely no match for Arvis, or Ishtar, or… anyone with a holy weapon, really. Which fits, really; his danger is his skill and intellect, not his power. But considering he’s basically the final boss, it’s a little sad, still.

Seliph. Teach him some manners, bro.

And with two shots, he’s down to six HP. End turn.

I miss the days when I was the one with the Julia Beams.

*sniff*

God. That is just cathartic to do. Now. With Manfroy off to Hell, where I’m assuming he will meet Hilda and strike up a whirlwind love affair, Seliph can take the castle.

Lewyn: That’s right, isn’t it Felipe?

Felipe: My liege concealed the key within his most treasured memento…. The circlet once worn by Empress Deirdre.

(HURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!)

Felipe: If we can find that circlet, sir, the Book of Naga is yours.

Lewyn: Deirdre’s circlet…

And that’s that! Ares runs toward the castle, with intent to lure Julia toward us. Of course she’s still hostile, why are you even asking? She has to talk to Seliph to get back to our side. Tee-hee, Fire Emblem hates you.

God, you are just like your mother. Seliph, go fix this please.

Seliph: It was Manfroy’s dark arts. He brainwashed you into his service.

Julia: Manfroy… that’s right, he caught me…

Seliph: Thank goodness you’re safe.

Julia: Lord Seliph, I…

Seliph: It’s fine, Julia. I know. Lewyn told me everything. I’m sorry… I failed to protect you.

Julia: No… it’s fine. Don’t worry, Seliph. I finally know why I’ve survived for all these years. I know my fate… I’m fated to fight. I’ll never run away again!

Seliph: You’re right… This is the will of fate, tragic as it is. None can afford to cower or flee now. Until the bitter end, we must march on.

And with that, Julia rejoins the team. She’s just as strong as ever, barring one fact; she’s picked up Deirdre’s circlet, adding Renewal and Miracle to her list of abilities, which is a heck of an upgrade.

But not as good as the one she gets from reaching Velthomer.

Lewyn: It worked… it really worked! And there it is, the Book of Naga! It’s yours for the taking, Julia!

Julia: … Oh! How strange… it feels so warm. It’s almost as if I’ve known this book all my life…

And now, the game is over. See, here’s the thing… Julius is just as dangerous as before, if not slightly moreso. His stats are slightly lower than his first appearance where you are very clearly not meant to fight him, but he still has Loptyr’s game-breaking effect, and his ability list is now Wrath, Pursuit, Nihil, and Accost. So he can double most of our army, null critical hits and combat abilities, and gets a huge critical boost when his health drops below half. And of course, he’s on a castle and gets the defense bonus and health regeneration that gives. Basically, he’s borderline invincible. The only real option if you lose Julia is to have Seliph fight him, and poor Seliph can only do about 15 damage per turn (if he hits) some of which will then be healed. While getting blasted in the face repeatedly, so you’ll need to get someone in to heal him between rounds, and they’ll very probably die to having Meteors dropped on their head unless you’re very lucky. And then there’s the Deadlords, who are just a pain.

But if you do have Julia…

Yeah.

YEEEEEEEEEAH.

Naga is the best weapon in the game. +20 each to Skill, Speed, Defense, and Resistance, instantly turns Julia into a hyper-fast, hyper-accurate, hyper-durable killing machine. And as a light magic tome, it has no disadvantage to any kind of weapon. And, of course, it negates Loptyr’s half-damage effect. Your reward for the most annoying recruitment in the game is the weapon that ends the game. Big time.

So.

It’s time to lay back and let Big J play us out, I think. I have her do the Arena, just for old times sake. Nothing even touches her.

Julia: Seven wins, gained two levels. +2 HP, +1 Speed.

About as good as can be expected at this point, honestly. And it…. Doesn’t really matter, you know? She heads to Belhalla, and Julius has no chance to hit her with Meteor, so he doesn’t even try. The Twelve Deadlords rush up to meet her, of course…

They’re going to regret this. The Deadlords are named for the animals of the Chinese Zodiac, and each one has a different class and some very good weapons and abilities. They’re a dangerous group! Usually.

One down, eleven to go. End turn.

And then there were nine.

Sorry, seven.

Six of one, half-dozen of the other.

Fun fact, ‘Lepus’ means ‘Rabbit’. And ‘Dead’.

Well I’ll be! Someone landed a hit! Too bad Julia did too. Four to go.

I’m so bad at counting! It’s actually three. Congrats to Equus the Bishop on surviving a round with The Julinator. But with that, none of the remaining Deadlords will actually take a shot at Julia anymore, so I’m just going to ignore them. It’s time for a family reunion.

(He isn’t wrong.)

Yes, that was a single round of combat. Julius procced his Accost skill and made the fight last an extra round. This… was not helpful to him.

Julius vanishes, the spirit of the dragon arising from the castle as the entire map shakes…

But it’s just bluster. Naga’s power has destroyed Loptyr’s vessel, and with its bloodline finally ended the dragon’s grip on this world is gone. Loptyr returns to whatever void it came from, and with the power that animated them gone, the few surviving Deadlords vanish.

I’m going to cut out here, but no sense waiting a week, huh? So see you tomorrow for the epilogue, kids. I think we earned it.

Final Reset Total: 30. Y... yay.

Epilogue

#Let's Play #let's play fire emblem IV #let's play fire emblem #Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War #fire emblem #fire emblem 4 #my writing #lp #long post

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fandomsandfeminism · 4 years ago

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Saying that the only way for humanity to survive is to purge the population? My friend, your environmental nihilism may not be INTENDED as eco fascism, but it serves the same end.

It deincentivizes people to do the work that is required for us to come together and fix these problems. It saps people of motivation to improve where we can improve. All it does is inspire hopeless apathy and resignation to letting Elon Musk and whoever else suck the Earth dry and kill people in the process.

Do not fall for that shit. Fight back against it. We are not so helpless and lost that mass death is the only way out. Think about who that rhetoric benefits and reject them.

Humans are not parasites on the world.

One thing that I think a lot of Environmentalists in America really overlook is that humans are supposed to be part of an ecosystem. Humans are part of the food web; we fill an environmental niche, just as much as beavers and wolves do.

We are SUPPOSED to interact with the environment- the problem arises when we begin interacting with the environment in UNSUSTAINABLE ways. This idea that we should try to “return” the environment to the way it was “before” humans so so so often ignores the way that Indigenous people all over the world were (and are) an important part of their environments- and trying to “preserve” those places without people filling their ecological niche can cause harm in super weird ways.

You know how its shitty for deer populations if you take out all of the wolves? It’s just as bad if you stop all human hunting too. Humans hunting deer has been an important part of the food web for thousands and thousands of years! Deer populations NEED hunters- human, wolf, cougar- to stay healthy.

Yes- massive clear cutting of forests and strip mining is bad. HOWEVER, not allowing Indigenous people to practice traditional controlled burns of grass lands? Not only makes wildfires worse, but ALSO fucks up the bio-diversity of those grasslands. Totally unmanaged “pristine” grasslands without humans are actually less healthy than grasslands that are sustainably managed by people.

Mono-crop super farms are not good- but humans have been farming for thousands of years- tending for plants and increasing their yield, monitoring the soil, in ways that benefit those plants and the other animals that eat them, and the other plants that use that soil, and the insects that make their home there. Sustainable, diversified farming isn’t bad.

Laying out acres and acres of asphalt and oil pipelines? Bad. But digging natural cisterns in the dessert that catches rainwater for grazing animals to use? Benefits the entire ecosystem and all the animals in it.

We are part of the environment. We belong here. And the ecosystems that human beings evolved in and lived in need us just as much as we need them. We aren’t parasites on the planet, we are a part of it. It’s just that global capitalism has thrown us terribly out of balance. Colonialism and profit-seeking are the problem- not human beings existing.

The goal of environmentalism should not be to protect nature by keeping humans totally separate from it, but rather to restore balance with our interactions with nature, for sustainable practices that help us coexist with the ecosystems that we are part of. That we have been a part of forever. And that is hard with billions of people on the planet, yes, and we will need to be clever and resourceful and thoughtful to find ways of restoring that balance, it will take a lot of people working together to find those answers- but humans’ greatest trait has always been our cleverness and our ability to work together.

#eco fascist

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seekfirstme · 4 years ago

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Meditation: When danger lurks, what kind of protection do you seek? Jesus came to free us from the greatest danger of all - the corrupting force of evil which destroys us from within and makes us slaves to sin and Satan (John 8:34). Evil is not an impersonal force that just happens. It has a name and a face and it seeks to master every heart and soul on the face of the earth (1 Peter 5:8-9). Scripture identifies the Evil One by many names, 'Satan', 'Beelzebul - the 'prince of demons', the 'Devil', the 'Deceiver', the 'Father of Lies', and 'Lucifier', the fallen angel who broke rank with God and established his own army and kingdom in opposition to God.

Jesus has power to cast out the Deceiver and set us free

Jesus declared that he came to overthrow the power of Satan and his kingdom (John 12:31). Jesus' numerous exorcisms brought freedom to many who were troubled and oppressed by the work of evil spirits. Jesus himself encountered personal opposition and battle with Satan when he was put to the test in the wilderness just before his public ministry (Matthew 4:1; Luke 4:1). He overcame the Evil One through his obedience to the will of his Father.

Some of the Jewish leaders reacted vehemently to Jesus' healings and exorcisms and they opposed him with malicious slander. How could Jesus get the power and authority to release individuals from Satan's influence and control? They assumed that he had to be in league with Satan. They attributed his power to Satan rather than to God. Jesus answers their charge with two arguments. There were many exorcists in Palestine in Jesus' time. So Jesus retorted by saying that they also incriminate their own kin who cast out demons. If they condemn Jesus they also condemn themselves.

Whose kingdom do you follow and serve?

In his second argument Jesus asserts that no kingdom divided against itself can survive for long. We have witnessed enough civil wars in our own time to prove the destructive force at work here for the annihilation of whole peoples and their land. If Satan lends his power against his own forces then he is finished.

Cyril of Alexandria, a 5th century church father explains the force of Jesus' argument:

Kingdoms are established by the fidelity of subjects and the obedience of those under the royal scepter. Houses are established when those who belong to them in no way whatsoever thwart one another but, on the contrary, agree in will and deed. I suppose it would establish the kingdom too of Beelzebub, had he determined to abstain from everything contrary to himself. How then does Satan cast out Satan? It follows then that devils do not depart from people on their own accord but retire unwillingly. "Satan," he says, "does not fight with himself." He does not rebuke his own servants. He does not permit himself to injure his own armor bearers. On the contrary, he helps his kingdom. "It remains for you to understand that I crush Satan by divine power." [Commentary on Luke, Homily 80]

How can a strong person be defeated except by someone who is stronger? Jesus asserted his power and authority to cast out demons as a clear demonstration of the reign of God. Jesus' reference to the 'finger of God' points back to Moses' confrontation with Pharoah and his magicians who represented Satan and the kingdom of darkness (see Exodus 8:19). Jesus claims to be carrying on the tradition of Moses whose miracles freed the Israelites from bondage by thefinger of God. God's power is clearly at work in the exorcisms which Jesus performed and they give evidence that God's kingdom has come.

God and his Word is the source of our protection and security

What is the point of Jesus' grim story about a vacant house being occupied by an evil force? It is not enough to banish evil thoughts and habits from our lives. We must also fill the void with God who is the source of all that is good, wholesome, true, and life-giving for us. Augustine of Hippo said that our lives have a God-shaped void which only God can fill. If we attempt to leave it vacant or to fill it with something else which is not of God, we will end up being in a worse state in the end.

What do you fill the void in your life with? The Lord Jesus wants to fill our minds and hearts with the power of his life-giving word and healing love. Jesus makes it very clear that there are no neutral parties in this world. We are either for the Lord Jesus or against him, for the kingdom of God or against it. We cannot serve two kingdoms opposed to each another. There are ultimately only two universal kingdoms which stand in opposition to one another - the kingdom of God - his kingdom of light and truth - and the kingdom of darkness - which is opposed to God's truth and justice and which is dominated by Satan's lies and deception. If we disobey God's word, we open to door to the power of sin and the deception of Satan in our personal lives.

Is Jesus the Lord of your mind, heart, and home?

If we want to live in true freedom, then our "house" (the inner core of our true being) must be occupied by Jesus where he is enthroned as Lord and Savior. The Lord assures us of his protection from spiritual harm and he gives us the help and strength we need to resist the devil and his lies (James 4:7). The Scriptures remind us that God is our refuge and his angels stand guard over us:

"Because you have made the Lord your refuge, the Most High your habitation, no evil shall befall you, no scourge come near your tent. For he will give his angels charge of you to guard you in all your ways"(Psalm 91:9-11).

Do you know the peace and security of a life submitted to God and his word?

"Lord Jesus, be the ruler of my heart and the master of my home. May there be nothing in my life that is not under your lordship."

THE WORST

“The result is that the last state of the man is worse than the first.” —Luke 11:26

The worst state possible for a human being is not being an atheist in the grip of the devil but being a fallen-away Christian, a backslider, a lukewarm believer. Jesus prefers that a person be an atheist rather than a lukewarm Christian (see Rv 3:15). Lukewarmness nauseates Jesus (Rv 3:16). “When men have fled a polluted world by recognizing the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and then are caught up and overcome in pollution once more, their last condition is worse than their first” (2 Pt 2:20).

The writer of Hebrews also indicates Jesus’ revulsion towards lukewarmness: “When men have once been enlightened and have tasted the heavenly gift and become sharers in the Holy Spirit, when they have tasted the good word of God and powers of the age to come, and then have fallen away, it is impossible to make them repent again, since they are crucifying the Son of God for themselves and holding Him up to contempt” (Heb 6:4-6).

Although this seems to give little hope of repentance, Jesus does call the lukewarm to repent. He commands: “Repent! Here I stand, knocking at the door. If anyone hears Me calling and opens the door, I will enter his house and have supper with him, and he with Me” (Rv 3:19-20). Let’s repent of anything less than a 100% commitment to the Lord. Let us obey the first and greatest commandment, and love the Lord with all our hearts, all our souls, all our strength, and all our minds (Lk 10:27).

Prayer: Jesus, I’m all Yours.

Promise: Jesus, I’m all Yours.

Praise: St. John lived out his priestly vocation serving in hospitals and prisons. He is an inspiration for chaplains, having died while tending to those stricken by the plague. He founded the first society of priests dedicated to the foreign missions.

Reference:

Rescript: "In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat for One Bread, One Body covering the period from October 1, 2020 through November 30, 2020. Most Reverend Joseph R. Binzer, Auxiliary Bishop, Vicar General, Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio February 25, 2020"

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements

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ki6-7-l8r · 7 years ago

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Yes, we in the underclass are all dying….. The system is too strong to fight. What will happen when economic suffering turns everyone in the working class; into catatonic vegetables that cannot function? When drug ODs, Suicides, and death from organ failure from drug and alcohol abuse happen at epidemic levels? When infrastructure collapses because there are not enough tax payers left to fund essential services, because people have become too poor to pay taxes? When shops and malls close because nobody has any money? When only high end shops exist because only the affluent and rich can afford to buy anything? You will have a Bronx and Detroit wasteland outside and the affluent will live behind spiked gates, and they will not venture out without a security detail armed to the teeth. This will be the new America, doubt it not. God has abandoned us, so we will seek solace with our Dark Father, Satan, The Devil Himself…..Who knows better than He what it is like to be oppressed by the cruel and stupid order of things? Our Credo: Nihilism, Our Way: Implacable Hate. Our work to bring the Destruction Of All by any and all means. To be free means to know in your soul that you would push the doomsday button and bring about the annihilation of the whole world without a moments hesitation. That you would seek out with every possible means to turn the great powers of the world against each other and bring about a Nuclear Holocaust, and inspire the geniuses with the means to do this with the will to carry it out? That you will renounce procreation, and seek all means to abort every fetus that would come into this accursed world and therefore suffer existence to be snuffed out before it would be born? That you will hail suicide and murderous vengeance as a sacrament, and in envy and hate, wish only evil upon those who would enjoy the great bounty of life at your expense, who would deign to look down you in your poverty, and by secret means find ways to visit misery upon them, as they do to you? Forget socialist ideals, envy and hate are more than enough! Yet seek common cause with the Servants Of The Master, among the rich, have no doubt that they wish for the end of all things, as do you in your poverty. The Time Of End Is Now, and by all of the Legions Of Hell may we have Our Vengeance, in the annihilation of the world and of Mankind, and even the Death Of God and the Universe, in the maelstrom of Infinite Destruction wherein All That Is Is No More!

#satanism #nihilism #nordic black metal #antinatalism #darkwave

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eldritch-sanctum · 7 years ago

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The Guide to Non-Evil Undead

This is a rough draft of something I am working on to help people incorporate non-evil undead in their D&D games. Whenever I look up this subject it seems a lot of people do ask for this and some are shut down by less open-minded people. If you’ve been bombarded by the idea that undead = evil for years it would be harder to conceive of such a thing, so I go into detail about the possibilities of non-evil undead. It is not complete, most of the fluff part is done, but the technical things like statblocks and potential spells to add are still things I am working on. Each of the NPCs are going to have statblocks, and I am thinking of statblocks for additional non-evil undead creatures like baelnorns and ancestral spirits, stuff like that.

I’d like some feedback and crit if possible.

Text under the cut.

Incorporating Non-evil Undead in Your Game.

As Player Characters

The previous character examples serve as points of inspiration for non-evil undead. With some tinkering, one can add slight adjustments to a player character to make them undead. Some may want their character to be a specific kind of undead, such as a vampire, but balance issues become more concerning when a player character is far tougher than others in the party despite being the same level. You may consider having a character loose levels upon undeath, or start out at a lower level. Another suggestion is the remove certain benefits from an undead character, and also remove some weaknesses at the same time. A vampire character may one be able to turn into mist once a night, may not have great strength or dexterity, but also be able to have some limited time in the sun. This may seem like cheating, but one could justify it by means of an artifact, blessing, or simply another kind of vampire that is less powerful.

In previous editions there were added complexities that did make undead characters more difficult to handle--they had no constitution score, were healed by necrotic spells that harmed the living, were harmed by healing spells that healing the living, and were destroyed upon loosing hit points. Fifth edition has none of these, but most healing spells have no effect on the undead, and undead can still be targeted or turned.

An undead character can provide a twist on an adventuring party, even moreso if the party members lean toward good or lawful non-evil alignments. The party may accept the undead companion, except for one or two due to their devotion to a god who absolutely detests undead such as Kelemvor. One must be very cautious if this occurs, it can decrease cooperation an cause the party to split. On the other hand it could be a conflict the party must overcome and realize they have to work together for the greater good against a common foe. Some party members may be more accepting of undead--perhaps they don't see what is so evil about most undead, maybe they've had experiences with undead that were not hostile. They may do what they can to help the undead ally such as disguise him or her in a place where their presence would be unwelcome or be sensitive about where and when they cast turn undead.

Resolving Cosmological Setting Issues

One of the difficulties that arises with incorporating non-evil undead is that many settings have established that the dark animating force behind undead, typically known as "negative energy" makes them evil or corrupts the world by existing alone. It's possible to simply ignore this if it isn't important in the setting, but there are some workarounds that can be used:

Undead who are not evil can lessen their dependence on negative energy by their very abstinence from evil. A very good undead can even start siphoning energy from another source such as positive or arcane energy, such a creature's properties would change to reflect that. The undead creature would count as living creatures for any magical effects that specifically target undead after gaining a few levels. An undead creature powered through raw arcane power might gain levels in sorcerer but can suffer ill effects if using too much magic.

It may also be that the existence of a few undead do very little to the entropy of the cosmos, rather it’s their larger collective existence that may accelerate the destruction of the Material Plane. If the issue is adding more evil to the Material Plane, a non-evil undead may instead negate it with their own virtue or actions.

Different Perspectives on Negative Energy

Consider re-interpreting negative energy in your setting if you want it to co-exist with non-evil undead. What if negative energy is not as dangerous and evil as many believe? If positive energy preserves and gives life and negative energy destroys and takes away life, then wouldn’t the two be necessary to co-exist? After all, much of life depends on death—living organisms that cannot produce their own energy and biological material must take it from another organism. These organism must destroy, break down, and absorb another organism’s remains into more basic components to use for energy, to use to grow their own body, or other necessary biological functions. If this sounds ghoulish, well maybe it isn’t so different from a ghoul after all? Positive and negative energy might be a part of every living being, positive and negative energy might even be two facets of the same kind of energy that suffuses the cosmos.

Consider if negative energy and positive energy are completely neutral, they are part of the fabric of the cosmos the way the elements are, and some wizards hypothesize that they are just another element to draw power from and control. The trouble is, that when the element you draw power from is very good at death and decay, it can often be the easiest to corrupt those who crave power or destruction of others, hence the association. Yet any power can be misused, even positive energy can have very dangerous and gruesome effects if wielded to dominate and destroy. Positive energy can overwhelm and burn biological systems or even cause horrid growths and proliferate vermin and diseases.

Perhaps negative energy flowing to the Material Plane is not just natural, but necessary. There may be fonts of negative energy where undead are more likely to occur. The reason is to slow down or balance the process of life on the Material Plane, or maybe even balance the positive energy that already suffuses it. If all negative energy were wiped out, biological processes would accelerate to the point were complex life could not exist.

Undead vs. Deathless

In some settings, undead are counterbalanced by a visually similar but intrinsically different type of creature: the deathless. Deathless appear corpse-like, but are created through divine power, often by a cleric or deity. Deathless are often simply warriors risen back to fight for the cause of good, and then are sent back to rest until called again. Deathless are powered by positive energy in the same way that in some settings undead are powered by negative energy.

One could simply re-label all non-evil undead as “deathless”, yet it risks removing some of the drama and storytelling appeal of undead. Deathless are also linked heavily to the divine which makes them harder to work with less religious characters. In a world where non-evil undead and deathless exist, the undead may find themselves believing to be wholly wretched and cursed, and become jealous of the deathless who were chosen by the gods to continue their existence. This may serve as a point of contention between some undead and the gods, in which some undead renounce their faith in the good gods, but know well the evil gods do not have their interests in mind. Good-aligned undead may try hard to prove themselves to the gods that they are worthy of becoming deathless. If deathless are more available to a certain race, such as elves, this can also serve as tension between an undead and that race which has better access to deathlessness. Some who aspire to become deathless but learn that it has a racial restriction that does not include their own race may become undead out of spite, but still retain a sense of justice that does not allow them to slip into evil.

In some settings, there may be good-aligned divinely created undead that occur. In Forgotten Realms, baelnorn are elves who are bestowed undeath by their gods, even good-alined ones to be guardians of their families, artifacts, or knowledge. Yet, baelnorn are still counted as undead and do animate dead in battle.

The Cycle of Life and Death

In many settings, there are gods who believe that undead are unnatural abominations that disturb or disrespect nature or the cycle of life. They care not for the deeds or alignment of said undead, only that undead to them must be put down. This can act as a compelling source of contention between heroic undead characters and the gods. This perspective of undeath may even biased or flawed if undead have a tendency to spontaneously rise, or rise when a creature feels their death is unjust or that their time in the Material Plane ought to be extended in the case of revenants and ghosts. Undeath being a divine domain, even to evil gods may also cast some doubt about undead being “unnatural”, if they are a niche within the cosmos-but so would many evil domains such as murder and tyranny. Some good or neutral gods can be more considerate of undead if they serve them, or even in disagreement with the gods who hate undead. These considerations can be issues the characters must deal with, adding conflicts between good characters and between different points of view about what constitutes “natural” and “unnatural” or even what good is or should be about. If the gods become involved in this debate it could even threaten to shatter many faiths or the cosmos as a whole.

Undead Philosophy

In many settings, undeath is tied to a philosophy of nihilism, destruction, and death. Gods and other powerful extraplanar beings who endorse undeath often favor murder, selfishness, tyranny, and devouring all. Such gods may see undeath as being as appropriate as dead to them if such undead condemns souls to an empty, tprtured existence or if such undead dedicate themselves to the destruction of other life.

Yet this does not have the be only philosophical view point of undeath. Undeath can be more than just embracing death, in fact it could be the opposite—which is the part that annoys the death gods of repose. Undeath can be a means of embracing life. Someone who voluntarily becomes undead does so to preserve themselves for their own intentions or goals. It may be the denial of growth—an important aspect of life, but also the denial of cessation. Even if there is an afterlife, souls often do not keep their memories or much of themselves over there, so such a valuable thing as knowledge and memories is something an undead may wish to preserve. Undead who feel they can cast off the worries of things like mortality may begin to embrace life in a new way, they may become fearless and possibly even hedonistic, they may not mourn the pleasures of a living body, but instead relish the experiences their undead bodies offer to them. They may start to wonder how they survived so long alive with the burdens of the living body such as defecation and disease. These undead see undeath as something closer to life than to death, an undead creature is not a walking corpse, but a body refusing to die.

There are undead who emphasize the pursuit of knowledge and events to come. An undead researcher may wish to see a cosmic phenomena that only occurs once every several thousand years, the founder of a movement may wish to become undead to see that her movement does not fall into corruption. An undead craftsman is the one of only a handful of people who is exceptionally skilled at a very rare trade or skill, and knows that with his own passing it means the extinction of this skill. The survivor of a dark time and place in history decides to become undead so that she may preserve the memory and awful lessons learned so that such an event would not happen again. These people become undead to do what the living cannot do, a purpose that extends common life and is greater than one’s self, and thus is worth clinging onto life as long as one can.

Some find a strange romance in undeath that views it as a kind of transcendence or apotheosis, one that unfortunately captivates many evil creatures, but could also be compelling to the good as well. A good creature may see undeath as a liminal existence to be embraced, a strange transformation that could potentially open one’s potential and consciousness. In most methods of undeath, it only brings madness and torment, but that does not mean that the methods can be altered to evade such pitfalls.

There of course is one of the most compelling reasons for undeath—the fear of death itself. It may seem cowardly or selfish to deny death to some, but others would insist it’s only a natural or a well-deserved reaction depending on what goes on the outer planes.

Most undead people do understand that undeath does not guarantee an eternal existence. The day may come when the Material Plane draws its last breaths, and when that happens nothing can save the phylactery from destruction. Even before that there is still the chance of being slain or some accident occurring. It may not happen for centuries, millennia, or even millions of years, but it could still happen eventually. Some undead are not afraid of the inevitable after a long and rich unlife, others would still be in denial of this happening. Most don’t worry about it because it is far beyond the horizon that perhaps the world would be unrecognizable by the time it occurs.

Undead and Society

In most societies, undead who co-exist with the living must hide their undead nature or face terrible consequences. They may have to wear heavy clothing, avoid touching others so they won’t notice their lack of body heat, and wear items that make them undetectable. Such a person likely has some allies who know of their undeath and are willing to do things on their behalf that are difficult to do without revealing their undeath—or in the case of vampires, also during the daytimes. Undead who must feed would have a more difficult time remaining unnoticed; they will have to find ways to keep their feeding a secret. A vampire might drink blood from his allies or attempt to subsist on animal blood. A ghoul might attempt to subsist on butcher scraps, animals, or hire adventurers to bring the cadavers of slain goblins or orcs to them.

Incorporeal undead can simply hide from the living and only show themselves to select individuals. Some incorporeal undead might have a presence that is hard for the living to ignore, such as an aura of coldness or despair. Such undead stay in abandoned places that they can call their domain, but their aura might catch the attention of do-gooder clerics and paladins.

Undead can still remain productive members of a society of living, whether they secretly or openly co-exist with the living. There are jobs that undead can do that are too hazardous to the living. An undead person might handle diseased bodies or refuse, or deal with poisoning vermin. Undead can do work that would exhaust or injure the living such as tending to a drawbridge even in the very early hours of the morning or tending a massive contraption in a factory that has to be watched for days on end when operating. Undead can be adept at being guards, skeletons can remain standing in the same place for days, even weeks, perhaps years observing and interfering when necessary.

Undead who are more intellectually inclined can become like vast libraries of knowledge and experience themselves. They may be able to recall events that happened many generations ago and teach lost skills to new generations. If such undead are lucky, they may be highly revered and serve as advisers or councilors.

When the living and undead openly interact, it may change laws and customs to adjust. There hopefully would be rights given to the undead, and undeath will likely be seen as an extension of one’s life so they can keep assets that would otherwise be given to inheritors. This can cause some ire in heirs, especially when it comes to royalty; a king may become a lich to secure his place on the throne, which would encourage other royalty to kill him for the throne if he isn’t planning on letting it go. In this case, a country might forbid undead from royal titles or put a limit to the undead’s hold on the throne.

Undead who may spread disease might be given accommodation to control disease spread, or be restricted away from the living. Undead who feed may have to register with authorities how they plan to fulfill their needs and be regularly visited to make sure they keep with their promise. Incorporeal undead may have the most difficult time with interaction, but if one sticks to a haunt, it could be registered as the undead’s property, or if it overlaps with someone else’s property, an agreement has to be made.

There is of course the option of undead living in their own settlements that fit their needs but may be inherently hostile to any living members due to the lack of accommodations for the living and possibly disease. Such necropolises may be hidden in places away from the living such as in extraplanar locations or within demiplanes. What could such a settlement be like? If it is in another plane, it might haver perpetual shadow that does not harm undead that aren’t too fond of light. It might have no farms, but have livestock—possibly even sentient livestock if the undead there aren’t interested in goodness. Since undead usually do not need to breathe and are usually immune to poison and disease, undead citizens might be careless in hygiene and handling poisons; a building might have a terrible poison gas problem due to one of the occupants doing alchemical experiments, but nobody notices. Undead have all the time in the world, so the pace of life might be slow and less organized much like how some think of elven society. A holiday might span a month, a scholar might have centuries of study before becoming a master, a transaction may take years to complete. A necropolis might have no vegetation and be blighted, however it is entirely possible for one to have some vegetation or even be rich in it—after all plants are not just for eating. Depending on if undead rot or not, detrivorous creatures might be pests to undead. Instead of rats, cockroaches, and bedbugs being common household pets, common household pests might include carrion beetles, maggots, or even vultures—but it is a problem can be solved with smart application of poison or necrotic energy.

Ethics of Creating Undead

Although this guide mainly concerns the undead themselves, it is worth speaking of the type of necromancy that creates many undead in the first place. Such necromancy is often shunned or taboo, and in many settings is considered an act that if done enough times can render a necromancer evil. Like non-evil undead, there can be ways to work around aspects of such necromancy that may be considered evil.

Mindless undead are temporary—and do not have the souls of the deceased nor entropic energies, they are little different from constructs except they are animated from the echoes of life in the way the Speak with Dead spell does. When using the spell Animate Dead or Create Undead this way, such undead creature may return back to death after the time it is controlled is over.

Mindless undead that somehow do have the soul of the individual are treated with respect. There might be people who voluntarily will allow their remains to be animated, even if it means disturbing their own rest, they are happy to be taken back to the land of the living once in a while.

Mindless undead do have the original soul or the soul of another dead, but are still temporary and are laid to rest once their job is done. Animate Dead and Create Undead spells can be modified to “dismiss” the spirit once it’s service is over to continue its journey in the afterlife. Such undead cannot be made if the soul has already been taken by the outer planes.

The necromancer can contact the deceased for permission for use. The necromancer may pay the deceased’s family, give last words to family, or some other form of payment to convince the soul to return for awhile.

In some cases, the dead may be yearning for vengeance. A necromancer who comes across the bodies of many slain innocents may tap into their rage and give them the vengeance they desire so much.

Undead NPC Examples.

These examples of non-evil undead NPCs are meant to give inspiration to making them. They can also be re-created as player characters since all of them have class levels.

Mr. Bodoni- human skeleton, level 2 rogue

Mr. Bodoni is the shopkeeper of a shop known as "Curio Cabinet", a quirky but unassuming little store near the sea surrounded by other shops, taverns, and boats. People are often alarmed at Mr. Bodoni's...boney presence. Fortunately the city is rather cosmopolitan—there is a weird person in each corner of the city, and Mr. Bodoni wears an amulet that protects him against turning and smites.

Mr. Bodoni has a habit of spilling out skeleton puns whenever he deems necessary, which is often. If his deathly appearance isn't enough to invite a sword in between his ribs, the agony from his puns sometimes does the trick.

Mr. Bodoni is not the owner of the shop, merely the one who handles transactions. It is unknown who the real storefront owner is, but Mr. Bodoni hints that the shopkeeper is the one who discovered him—and perhaps animated him— in a dungeon years ago in a deadly trap. Mr. Bodoni does seem to remember who he was before he died, but does not wish to speak of it. He is only glad that he has a second chance, and somehow is glad that *nobody* can recognize him anymore.

Personality Traits: You don’t need a working body to enjoy life, you just gotta be humerus! I really don’t like spooking my patrons, but a little interaction and they ease up and find they can see right through me!

Ideal: Zest. Life is meant to be enjoyed and lived, and to have fun and pleasure, but I am not fond of having lazy bones!

Bond: I owe the shopkeeper my second chance. Any other adventures would have destroyed me, but she saw that I was not going tibia numbskull!

Flaw: I did something terrible in life, so I went into a dungeon to see if I could redeem myself with some great act. I never made it and the monster has been slain already. My undeath is a shield from my past life. I’m sorry I have no pun for this…next topic…

Yates Gildann- human ghoul, level 8 ranger (hunter)

Sometimes a minion in an undead army suddenly breaks free from the bond of their master. This is what happened with a certain ghoul in an evil necromancer’s horde of undead. Said necromancer was surrounded by so many undead minions, the fact that one ghoul was too busy feasting on a nearby dead ogre was of no concern to him, so the undead army marched on to destroy the city. The ogre’s flesh happily occupied the ghoul all day and night, and by the time the necromancer and his army was slain by heroes, the ghoul was still there—munching happily. Later when the ghoul was finished, he gradually gained his self-awareness as the necromancer’s hold was no longer upon him. His hunger was sated enough that he could pursue somewhere else. He managed to evade the many dangers in the land he was left in, yet maybe his ghoulishness made him seem of little concern to evil forces that thrived there. Over time he started to remember his past life, and started to recoil in disgust about his new appetite and habits, and realize that had happened to him.

In life, Yates was a lowly, common human peasant of little status. He lived a steady life of toiling fields, praying for abundant harvests, and hunted for food on the side. He had a wife and children who loved him.

Upon remembering his previous life, he scurried in the night to see what became of them, and then faced the awful tragedy—his whole family, and many others where he lived were brutally slaughtered by the evil necromancer’s undead army. His children’s corpses were of no use to the necromancer, and his wife was likely just another skeleton that was smited in the most recent battle. Yates could only cry—or at least try to cry upon the ruins of his home, his family.

There are many undead whose sorrow turns them to evil, but there are also many undead whose sorrow points them to a path of justice and heroism. Yates would conceal his undeath underneath clothes and herbs to move into the city that slaughtered the necromancer to find more answers. He managed to pass himself off as a living person interested in dispatching evil necromancers, but the clerics were able to detect his undeath. Fortunately they had heard his intentions and sorrow already, so he was able to reveal his state to them, and they in turn agreed he could be an asset to them. Over the years, Yates has turned his skill in hunting into becoming a full-fledged ranger, he stalks the wilds for evil necromancers and other monsters who abduct the minds and souls of other creatures. His appetite for flesh has been tempered to feast on animal—and occasionally humanoid carrion left after a fight between orcs and adventurers. His undead state seems like an anathema to nature, but his actions and habits seem to fit well within it, to the point where the natural world around him has accepted his presence and graced him with its magic.

Personality Traits: I will be a walking warning to those who raise the dead to be their minions. My background as a farmer and hunter makes my condition as a ghoul a little easier to deal with.

Ideal: Freedom. Anyone who desires to take away the will of another creature is my enemy—even a bard who charms other frequently is likely to meet my arrow.

Bond: My grief for what that monstrous tyrant did to my family drives me to continue my own wretched existence.

Flaw: I refused to be resurrected by the clerics who offered it to me. I am ashamed of it, but somehow becoming a ghoul has freed me even from the bonds that held me in life.

Sir Kudgrouck Ironmantle-half-orc ghost, level 8 fighter (champion)

Sir Kudgrouck is a ghost knight, sworn to fight evil alongside his beloved sister. Unfortunately, Sir Kudgrouck is a half-orc, while his sister is a dwarf, so Sir Kudgrouck continued his service past his expiration to continue fighting alongside his sister and the family who raised him.

Kudgrouck was a half-orc abandoned near a cave as a baby by his parents. A group of passing dwarves noticed the child and came to his aid. Some were frightened due to the child being of orcish blood, but others insisted that the right thing was to raise him. The dwarven Ironmantle family who discovered him decided to raise him with permission from the dwarven elders, who were cautious but knew that half-orcs were not inherently evil. Kudgrouck was raised alongside another dwarf, who would be his adopted sister named Dradrelyn—she became a cleric of Haela Brightaxe, the dwarf goddess of fighting evil. Kudgrouck himself would become a strong and valiant warrior, but trust in him was still not universal. He and Dradrelyn became very close, and fought many evils that threatened their homeland from time to time. His valor was later rewarded by giving him the title of an honored knight-even more remarkable due to his orcish heritage.

But while his sister didn’t seem to age as decades moved on, Kudgrouck started to loose his strength and health due to old age. This greatly saddened him, and his adopted family began to regret adopting him in the first place if they knew he would live such a short life compared to him. Others who were more used to interacting with humans and shorter-lived races knew the pain but knew that it was still the right thing to do.

So Kudgrouck decided he would not be done. He decided to fight alongside his sister, and for the cause of fighting evil beyond his normal lifespan. This was something other dwarves were reluctant to allow him to do, since such things were often associated with evil. Yet he swore to fight next to his sister and to defend his family, and his homeland for as long as he could muster. Such oaths are usually simply words, but his valor and drive made them true.

Sir Kudgrouck haunts his armor and weapons, he fights as a warrior resembling an animated armor-until the enemy realizes he isn’t just a mindless construct. He can resist being turned by his sister, and has learned various techniques that take advantage of his incorporeal existence. Existence as haunted armor has brought about a curious annoyance, in which a foolhardy person would try on his armor only to be possessed by him. Sir Kudgrouck cannot control it when he possesses someone who wears his armor, it just happens as long as they don his armor.

Personality Traits: I will do all I can to fight the evils of this world. I owe my whole life and unlife to my family and clan.

Ideal: Loyalty. Loyalty is given to those who deserve it, and when they do deserve it, I do all I can to honor it.

Bond: I will go to Hell and back with my sister, if she was trapped there I would also go there to save her.

Flaw: I sometimes get jealous of the long life gifted to dwarves compared to my own.

Nyx Aternas-dragonborn vampires, level 14 paladin (oath of vengence)

Centuries ago, her kingdom was invaded by demons and she was among the slain. In more current times another demonic invasion was brewing, and so Nyx crawled back from the netherworld to continue what she could not accomplish. Many other warriors in the battle might have wished to return as well, but a special set of circumstances came together so Nyx was able to rise with her relatively intact corpse.

During life, she intimidated her demonic foes by sinking her teeth into their flesh. Her large, powerful draconic jaws tore her foes apart and sent others fleeing. Little did she know that each bite would "taint" her body in some way slowly. Perhaps if she wasn't killed, she would have become corrupted with the evil essence of the Abyss. Instead, the blood slept in her body, even after it was consecrated and preserved through gentle repose, but one day it would break those spells that prevented reanimation. Nyx was the only slain in that battle to be able to rise back to the world of the living—but as a vampire, still thirsting for the blood of her enemies and those who would dare try to destroy her homeland, and those who commit great evils. She changed her name to one befitting her new life. As just about every adventurer knows, there is little shortage of evil blood out there.

Her conviction and faith in Bahamut steel her mind against the pitfalls of her condition, and quest for vengeance. She no longer craves demon blood, but still has the hinderance of craving any sort of blood, along with the hinderance of being harmed by the sun. Despite these issues, she has proven herself a valuable asset by the descendants of those she fought alongside with and the righteous cause of Bahamut. Yet one can see that perhaps she does teeter dangerously between bloodthirsty monster and righteous avenger, but she does so beautifully. Only a god of righteous giant predatory monsters can appreciate such a thing.

Personality Traits: I relish it when my enemy is scared of me. My duty is to the greater cause of justice is my reason for persisting in this world.

Ideal: Purpose. Purpose is the most important thing in anyone’s life, without it we would be lost and life would be meaningless. Laws and freedom are meaningless without purpose.

Bond: I fell in battle centuries ago, and I am ashamed of it, I hope that by defending the descendants of those I fought with, I can reinforce my bond with my people and strive for lasting peace.

Flaw: I really like drinking the blood of enemies and biting into their flesh. I see no problem sinking my teeth into an orc or gnoll—and that scares my allies too, but I will not sink my teeth into another dragonborn or even dragon.

(Note: This character is based on the first character I made for 4e- a warlock/vampire dragonborn raised to undeath by her otherworldly patron. Since she has a lot of vengence stuff tied to her, I thought about re-creating her in 5e as an Oath of Vengence paladin. If the vampire thing is too much, I have considered re-creating her as a revenant instead. Also thinking of giving her the ability to convert demon blood into radiant energy.)

Eliaskeh-tiefling necropolitan, level 16 artificer (gunsmith)

Eliaskeh was denied many opportunities in her mortal life—because she is a tiefling. She started school late, she was bullied, she was mistreated by her peers. Her family decided to homeschool her, but they did not have many resources or money to help their child. Eliaskeh would begin her studies at a much later age than her human and halfling peers. Despite being force to start late, her intellect and curiosity blossomed greatly. She befriended a curious rock gnome who taught her the tricks and trade of tinkering and making. She combined this with the hellish magic in her veins and some studies of wizardry to become an artificer.

She was often absorbed into her tasks, into making the next greatest thing, into experimenting and tinkering with her arcane inventions. Unfortunately, what she dreamed of was difficult to get. She would go on adventures to gain money and inspiration, but her flighty nature and voracious curiosity went against her ability to be organize her life and be able to invest more money in greater works. As a result, she would often spend years tinkering without any income from it, she would spend years on end dreaming and scattering ideas. But then the years would start to catch up with her, even before she was middle-aged she started to feel the cold grip of death beyond the horizon. Due to her late start, lack of funds, and voracious curiosity, she began to seek undeath.

Eliaskeh knew it was going to be yet a few more years of dedication, but would it be worth it? What would the world think of such an abomination as an undead tiefling? Either one alone was enough for most people.

After spending time researching at Candlekeep, she came upon lore about a city of undead in the Shadowfell. She found that they did a ritual that would be an ideal alternative to lichdom, that would make a mortal undead with little other effects, ill or beneficial. She would use her magic wiles and guides to venture into the city of undead, and the world would presume her missing for the next century.

While in Nocturnus, she met with a wide variety of social misfits and outcasts like herself. She befriended another necropolitan who introduced her to the wonder of a developing invention-firearms. She began tinkering with firearms in exchange for her new friend to refine her skills in clockwork mechanisms. Their budding friendship would result in her gaining a thunder cannon of her own and development of arcane clockwork mechanisms that tweak with the weave in ways similar to the gestures of a spellcaster but can be done more stealthy (but they still require a caster!).

Personality traits: I feel more comfortable in this land of undead misfits than I ever had in the Material Plane. I am determined to make the best use of my undeath.

Ideal: Progress. We must do what we can to constantly improve and transform our innovations and magic.

Bond: I owe my mentor everything and am lucky to have met her.

Flaw: I still kick myself often for being a late bloomer. I still think it’s my fault.

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