I spent my entire school career afraid of being wrong because I was taught that to make a mistake was embarrassing. Now I’ve discovered that making a mistake just means you are one step closer to the right answer, and everyday I have to work to shake the mindset that a single wrong answer equals failure.
concept: a death god that is actually surprisingly supportive and on the side of the good guys, supporting actions and promoting policies that will lead to the kingdom growing and thriving instead of being destroyed, because the more the kingdom grows, the more people there are, and the more people there are the more people will eventually die, and when you’re an immortal god of death, you know there’s no need to rush. you’ll get them all in the end
i like how the responses on this post are cleanly split between “hey this is a great story idea i love it” and “this is absolutely terrifying”
Yes. A Death that is kind, and patient, and inevitable.
A Death that need not fight against you, that will often
fight for you, because why not? It
will gather you home eventually. Why not enjoy you first?
A Death that treasures those who fight it most ardently.
That loves healers and defenders and survivalists and necromancers and mad
scientists and immortal gods. That lets them pour everything they are into
fighting it, denying it, adoring every desperate scrap of strength and will and
brilliance and raw determination poured out against it. That catches you when
your strength is done and all your will and brilliance run out, that gathers
you close beneath a warm, dark cloak, and whispers well done, oh child, you were magnificent, well done.
A Death who will not seek to hasten an inevitable end, who
will chastise those who seek to hasten it for others in Death’s stead, who will
slowly and patiently plot and sow and siphon away from the great monsters of
the world. Because who are they to hasten
Death’s domain, who are they to deny Death its time and its place, who are
they to cut short these vital glories that illuminate it so? Who are they to
presume upon its will, that is so much larger and so much longer than theirs?
Who are they to call, and presume that Death, of all beings,
should obey?
A Death that is not a hunter but a gatherer, who is always
and eternal, who loves you, and can afford to wait. A Death who will fight for you and defend you, who will place
its hand upon those who would speed you to its embrace, who has no need to rush you, only to greet you when
you call.
A Death who is kind.
And patient.
And, before all and above all,
inevitable.
Beautiful
There is a reason they wield a scythe, not a sword. They harvest what is ripe, not take what is still strong.
I think I have reblogged this before, but that last comment makes it worth reblogging again.
NO CROWN. NO CROWN. ONLY THE HARVEST.
That first paragraph of description from @honourablejester sounds like the Sandman Death, too.
