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scary-grace · 4 months ago

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Expiation (Chapter 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Even after slaying the High Kingdom's greatest enemy and sparing its people from a terrible fate, Shigaraki Tomura's past crimes make him an outcast in the castle. Still, someone has to attend to him, and that someone is you -- and unlike the maids who came before you, you're not afraid to ask a question. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1

Chapter 2

You accompany Sir Tomura to the feast in his honor, drawing as many stares as he does, and you wonder if that wasn’t his purpose all along. But the stares for you contain worry, or pity, as if they fear you’ve been coerced to his side, while the stares he receives are the same stares as always. Disgust from some. Hatred from others. And always, always terror.

At the doorway to the great hall, Sir Tomura adds another offense to his long list of crimes against propriety. As the herald, a bard with a gift for language and music and mostly volume, announces Sir Tomura and guest, Sir Tomura reaches out and takes your hand.

Lords offer ladies their arms, always – or lords their arms, if they prefer men, and ladies who prefer women offer their ladies their arms in turn. Holding hands is intimate, done at betrothals and weddings and thereafter in the privacy of one’s own chambers. It’s never done in public. Your face goes up in flames, and the assembled nobles gasp, but Sir Tomura steps forward without flinching. There’s nothing for you to do but stumble after him.

No one expected him to bring a guest, so a chair and a place setting must be hastily assembled for you, and you settle in at Sir Tomura’s side at the high table, amidst the king and his councilors and their consorts, none of whom were planning to share their evening with a servant. King Izuku, to his credit, makes the valiant first effort at including you, although he does it by way of Sir Tomura. “Will you introduce us to your companion?”

Sir Tomura shrugs. “I would if I knew her name.”

You realize you’ve never spoken it to him. Likely no one else has shared it, either, because he speaks to no one else, and you failed to introduce yourself when you arrived at his chambers. Sir Katsuki scoffs. “You’re unfamiliar with the ways of chivalry. Among civilized men we learn the names of servants before we bed them.”

“Civilized people. There are women among us,” Lord Tenya corrects at once. “And not all of us bed servants.”

You’ve heard that. Lord Tenya is said to be stiff-necked and a little boring, but he holds the values of chivalry and courtly love in high esteem, in spite of the fact that you’ve never seen him court anybody. “Let him talk,” Sir Tomura says. He lifts his wineglass, inspects it, and takes a sip. You cringe at the breach in manners – no one is supposed to eat or drink before the king does. “If he wishes to make a fool of himself by raising his bedroom habits at dinner, that’s his affair. I had thought we were among civilized people. Am I incorrect?”

Sir Katsuki makes a scathing sound. You see King Izuku’s eyes widen, and from her seat at the king’s side, Sir Ochako speaks up. To you. “What is your name, and whose lands do you hail from?”

You share your name, stammering slightly. “I hail from the borderlands, my Lady. I am not sure who rules over them.”

An awkward silence falls. “No one rules them,” Sir Tomura says. He takes another sip of wine, and across the table, the king hurriedly does the same, releasing everyone else from their obligation to abstain. “They belong to warlords – the Hassaikai clan, if I’m not mistaken. How long ago did you cede your kingdom’s borders?”

King Izuku chokes on a second sip of wine. Lord Tenya glares at Sir Tomura. “It’s impolite to discuss council business at mealtime.”

“Then what do you discuss, if not anything that matters?”

You’re still holding Sir Tomura’s hand, because he hasn’t let go of yours, and you tighten your grip on instinct, the same way you’d squeeze the hand of a friend who was speaking out of turn. Sir Tomura startles, and Lord Shoto, who has yet to speak, breaks the silence. “Is that why you left?” he asks you. “Because of the warlords?”

Lord Tenya sputters that this isn’t appropriate conversation, either, but it occurs to you that this is an opportunity you’ll never have again. You always assumed that the rulers of the High Kingdom made decisions purely on what was good and just, that if they truly abandoned the borderlands, it was done for a purpose, but now you aren’t so sure. “Yes, my Lord,” you say. “The young head of the Hassaikai clan imprisons those with magic to use in his alchemic experiments. I fled so I would not meet such a fate.”

The king and his councilors exchange startled glances. “You are mistaken,” the king’s spymaster says. You shiver; until Sir Tomura arrived, Aizawa was the most feared man in the castle. “Alchemy is forbidden in the High Kingdom.”

“The borderlands aren’t in the High Kingdom,” Sir Tomura points out. He still hasn’t released your hand. “The lot of you made sure of that.”

The silence that falls is agonizing in its awkwardness. The king’s herald, finished announcing the guests at last, slips into his seat at the spymaster’s side and into his unofficial role as court jester. “You all forget yourselves. The maid’s the only one here using her manners! Shame on you, my lords and ladies – what a terrible welcome you’ve provided to the savior of the High Kingdom.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Neither can Sir Tomura. “I’m a bard, first and foremost,” the herald continues, “and you’ve put me in a bind, your Lordship the White Death, sir. How am I supposed to sing of your heroic deeds when no one has told me the tale?”

Sir Tomura looks irritated. “What heroic deeds do you think I’ve committed?”

“You cast the Enemy’s severed head down at the king’s feet,” the herald says. “I’m assuming it didn’t just fall off.”

You snicker before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hands over your mouth in horror, pulling free of Sir Tomura’s hand in the bargain. But the herald winks at you. “Not only does she mind her manners, she has a sense of humor,” he proclaims. “Congratulations, Sir Tomura. You have excellent taste in guests.”

Sir Tomura ignores him, choosing instead to drink more wine, but you’re able to observe that the mood at the king’s table has lightened somewhat. You remember, suddenly, that the king’s herald and his spymaster were both born commoners, just like you. It makes you feel ever so slightly more comfortable at Sir Tomura’s side. You aren’t the first commoner the knights and nobles of the High Kingdom have encountered – and if the herald is anything to go by, you’re far from the most impertinent.

The food at the feast is fantastic. You’ve heard that one of the cooks in the kitchen has magic, and you can almost taste it. You eat sparingly, hoping against hope that you won’t be ruined for ordinary fare from now on. Beside you, Sir Tomura ignores his plate. Although you’re his companion for the evening, you’re still a maid, and you’re meant to serve. “Is the food not to your liking, my Lord?”

“I have no appetite.”

He’s too thin. You noticed it when you caught him changing his shirt – his muscles lie too close to the skin, his collarbones and ribs too prominent. Does he intend to starve? “Your cutlery is unused. Perhaps if you try it –”

“I’m not a child,” Sir Tomura interrupts. “Be silent.”

The sharpness of the command startles you, but you don’t let it show. Sir Tomura is acting as a noble should, and you should encourage it. You return your attention to your own plate. A few moments later, there’s a flicker of movement in your peripheral vision, followed by the scrape of a knife and fork against Sir Tomura’s plate. You don’t comment, but you don’t hide your smile, either.

There’s music and dancing, as there always is at a feast, and every lord and knight seeks a dance with someone. No one asks Sir Tomura. Someone asks you, though – King Izuku, and you nearly pass out from sheer shock. Even then, you know your manners. You turn to Sir Tomura for permission. “May I dance with the king, my Lord?”

“I don’t own you.” Sir Tomura doesn’t look up from his now partially-empty plate.

You accept the king’s offer, and King Izuku leads you onto the dance floor, he in his finery, you in a maid’s uniform. You put on a clean one before you joined Sir Tomura again. As poor and plain as it is, it’s the finest thing you own. The dance is simple, and old – so old that the borderlands were more than nominally part of the kingdom when it was first popularized. The steps come easily to you, which is a good thing, because King Izuku doesn’t just want to dance. He wants to talk.

“Is it true?” he asks, just under the musicians’ melodies. “What Sir Tomura said of the borderlands?”

You nod. King Izuku’s face, normally open and ready to rejoice at the slightest provocation, falls. It’s a long fall, and something about it bothers you. “I asked my spymaster, and he said you arrived here when you were thirteen,” he says. You nod again. “Why so young?”

“So old, your Majesty,” you say. He blinks. “My father and mother concealed my magic. When it was revealed, my family and the others who had helped me conceal it fled. Only I passed through the Forest Perilous unharmed.”

King Izuku looks even unhappier than before. “Are there others from the borderlands in the castle?” he asks, and once more, you nod. “I would speak to them. If the information you and Sir Tomura have provided is true, then we must intervene. This has gone on for far too long.”

You know what Sir Tomura would say to that, even having spent less than a day in his company: It has gone on because the High Kingdom has allowed it to go on. You keep your silence, keep your head bowed, and King Izuku speaks again as he guides you through a slow spin. “As for the matter of Sir Tomura,” he says, and your shoulders stiffen, “I was surprised to see him attend the feast at all, let alone with a companion. As you may know, we have had – there has been some difficulty in, er, making him feel welcome.”

He doesn’t feel welcome because he isn’t welcome, and he and everyone else knows it. You keep your silence, and King Izuku continues, more uncertainly than you’ve ever heard him speak. Then again, he’s never spoken to you before today. “If you were willing –” King Izuku starts, then cringes. “I don’t know the, er, the nature of your contact with him today –”

“My virtue is intact.”

“Oh. Good.” The king is so red in the face that steam might as well be pouring from his ears. “In that case, perhaps it’s not appropriate to ask this of you.”

As if your virtue matters to anyone but yourself. “Yes, your Majesty?”

“Sir Tomura will need someone to attend him on a more permanent basis. Ordinarily this would be a squire – failing that, a manservant,” King Izuku says. “But many have refused the role, and of those who have not done so immediately, he seems to hold less hatred for you than the rest. It is not usual, but if you were willing to take on the task –”

He’s looking at you hopefully, as though you might fill in the answer for him, let him completely off the hook. You won’t. “Yes, your Majesty?”

“The kingdom would be grateful if you continued to serve Sir Tomura,” King Izuku says. “There is honor in serving a knight.”

You remember what Sir Tomura said to you this afternoon: It is no honor to be on your knees at my feet. You know, too, what King Izuku is doing – offering you as a sacrifice to Sir Tomura, in the hopes that the White Death will be satisfied with you and cease to trouble everyone else. “Is this an order, your Majesty?”

King Izuku looks desperately uncomfortable. The two of you have frozen in the middle of the dance floor, as a new song starts and everyone else pivots around you. You wait for him to say it, to sweep the problem of the White Death away under your skirt. You’re an acceptable sacrifice. Just like the borderlands you grew up in were, for the sake of peace in the kingdom. “I don’t wish for it to be an order,” the king says. “But –”

“I will attend him.” You make the decision quickly, both to preserve the illusion that you had a choice and to avoid any risk that Sir Tomura will hear that you were forced to keep company with him on a regular basis. “It would be my honor.”

“Oh,” King Izuku says, relieved. “Good.”

He leads you off the dance floor, the other dancers moving seamlessly out of his path, and delivers you back to the high table where Sir Tomura sits alone. Everyone else seems to have evacuated the premises. “I have good news,” King Izuku says to Sir Tomura, who’s staring at nothing, again. “Your companion for the evening has agreed to attend you for the entirety of your stay in the kingdom.”

Sir Tomura looks up, surprised. Then his face hardens. “Did she agree, or did you compel her?”

“She agreed,” King Izuku says at once. “She said it would be her honor.”

To King Izuku’s eyes, Sir Tomura’s expression doesn’t change. You can tell by how quickly he makes his excuses, abandoning the high table just like the rest. But you perceive the shift, that same flash of interest you’ve seen a few times now. “Sit down,” he says, and you do. “It would be your honor?”

“Yes, my Lord.” You suppose there’s honor in completing a task that no one else dares to – and more than that, honor in serving the man who spared the kingdom, regardless of the means by which he spared it. “It is not usual. If you would prefer a male servant –”

“If I must have a servant, I prefer one who is not so obviously repulsed by me.” Sir Tomura drains his glass of wine. “If that is you, so be it.”

“It’s me,” you say. Sir Tomura takes your glass of wine, which you’ve barely touched, and drains it, too. “My Lord?”

“I’m tired of this,” he says abruptly. “Show me the way back to my room.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Sir Tomura stays upright for most of the walk to his room, but when the alcohol strikes him at last, it strikes hard. You’re not unused to escorting drunken nobles back to their rooms and helping them prepare for bed, always poised to flee if the nobles in question decide they require company for the night. Sir Tomura, unlike the other nobles, has no nightclothes to change into and no paint or ornaments to remove from his skin and hair. He strips off his shirt so quickly that it tears, pulls off his boots, and falls onto the bed in his breeches and nothing else.

He recoils upright instantly. You see the scarcely healed skin over the cursed wound on his chest strain, nearly crack. “What are these?”

“The bedclothes?” you ask, puzzled. “I put them on earlier. You watched me.”

He runs his hand over them, disconcerted. “This isn’t wool.”

“It’s silk,” you say. “It’s meant to feel that way.”

The High Kingdom’s weavers produce more than tapestries. Typically when a new noble arrives, a fresh set of sheets is woven for them, but no one took such pains for the White Death, so you scavenged scraps of unused silk and pieced them by hand with your small magic, adding more and more until you had a full set of sheets for Sir Tomura’s bed. You meant to make a canopy, too, but then Hakamada caught you and chased you out. Sir Tomura considers the sheets as one might regard a snake about to strike before warily folding back the covers.

He recoils again when his head hits the pillow. You’ve never seen someone look so ill at ease with even this pale shadow of luxury in all your life.

He’s ill at ease, but tired, too. You can see it. “Is there anything else you require, my Lord?”

“No.”

“Then I will return at dawn,” you say, and curtsy. “Sleep well, my Lord.”

He doesn’t answer. When you look back again, he’s staring up at the ceiling, eyes open but blank. You need to find a canopy tomorrow. A canopy, and a pane of glass for the window, and more than one set of clothing – and doubtless dozens of other things you won’t think of until their absence makes itself conspicuously known. There’s much for you to do in order to ensure that your Lord is treated just as well as the others in the High Kingdom, who have done far fewer terrible deeds but not nearly as much good as the White Death did when he slew the Enemy and spared the world.

You lift Sir Tomura’s shirt from the end of the bed, noting the tear at the shoulder. Your magic is good for this much, at least. You run your finger along one edge of the tear and draw the fabric back together, doing everything to match the color of the join to the rest of the shirt. You’re unsuccessful, as usual. Still, it’s likely that Sir Tomura’s hair will hide the mark the next time he wears the shirt, and even if it doesn’t, silver isn’t the worst color one could choose.

You lay the shirt out on the end of the bed and fold it neatly. Then you turn to go, leaving your Lord to sleep his first night in a room that’s not quite so empty as before.

You return to Sir Tomura’s room bright and early, only to discover that he’s barely slept and in the full throes of a hangover. His terrible mood is the closest you’ve seen him get to the rage he’s famous for, but you’ve heard and seen Sir Katsuki do and say far worse. “What is it?” your Lord snaps at you, after you’ve brought him a cup of water and he’s taken a few sips. “What do they want now?”

“The king has called an emergency meeting of his council.”

“So?”

“My Lord, you sit on the king’s council,” you remind him. The exasperation that descends over Sir Tomura’s features could almost make you laugh. “I believe it concerns the borderlands.”

Sir Tomura rubs his eyes, and you notice the scar that runs over his right eye for the first time. For a moment, you think he’ll heed the summons. Then he lies back down. “No.”

“My Lord, the king takes his council meeting very seriously,” you caution. “If you don’t appear, Sir Ejiro will be sent to retrieve you.”

“To retrieve me?”

“I once saw him throw Sir Katsuki over his shoulder and carry him to the council chambers by force.” You watch as Sir Tomura’s eyes widen. “I imagine my Lord would like to avoid that.”

“If King Izuku imagines that any of his minions could retrieve me to somewhere I don’t wish to be, he’s lost his mind.” Sir Tomura eases his way to a seated position, grimacing the entire way. “When is it?”

“On the hour.” You add a timepiece to your mental list of items you need to procure for Sir Tomura’s room. “With your permission, my Lord, I’ll bring something for you to eat.”

“And another shirt,” Sir Tomura says. “This one is –”

He trails off as he picks up last night’s shirt off the end of the bed. “I mended it,” you say. “I’ll return shortly.”

You curtsy, then duck out of the room, hurrying to the kitchens. They’re busy when you arrive, courtesy of the maids and squires of the nobles who, like Sir Tomura, indulged enough at the feast last night to sleep through breakfast. You survey the choices available, dismayed. You should have paid more attention to what Sir Tomura ate last night, rather than simply being pleased that he ate at all.

News of your new assignment has already spread to your fellow servants. “I heard the White Death asked for you specifically,” Lord Denki’s squire Minoru says. “Is that true?”

“Of course not,” Lady Tsuyu’s maid Setsuna says. “It was the king who asked, wasn’t it?”

“The king asked?” Neito, who squires for anyone who’s yet to choose a squire of their own, is aghast. “What on earth did you do?”

“Nothing,” you say. “What I was asked. Nothing more.”

“You said it was an honor,” Lord Shoto’s squire says. You glare at him, and Hanta lifts his hands in supplication. “How could you say anything else with the White Death breathing down your neck?”

“He wasn’t there,” you say. No one is listening to you. Your fellows want to know what it was like to dance with the king, or else they want to know how you managed not to faint or vomit from the sheer horror of holding Shigaraki Tomura’s hand. Once the conversation shifts into speculation, it no longer needs you. You gather a few food items at random and hurry back to the deserted wing, hoping Sir Tomura will have put on a shirt and sobered up by the time you arrive.

He has, just enough. He doesn’t know where the council meets, so you escort him, walking a few steps ahead while he chokes down his breakfast. At the council chambers, he steps through the door without a word to you, and you’re on your way before it swings shut behind him. You don’t know how long the council meeting will run – given the issue rumored to be at hand, it could run for some time – and you need to accomplish as much as possible before Sir Tomura returns.

New clothes will take the longest. You catch up to Hakamada as he returns from breakfast for a short conversation, one which neither of you enjoy very much. He insists that he cannot make anything for Sir Tomura until Sir Tomura selects colors and a coat of arms, and you insist that Sir Tomura needs clothing first and foremost. The person who wanders into the midst of the conversation silences you both at once.

Hakamada bows low at the waist, while you drop to your knees, forehead to the flagstones. “Your Grace.”

“Please rise,” the old king, Toshinori, says. Hakamada straightens; you risk a glance upwards. “I heard raised voices. What was under discussion?”

“New clothes for the White Death –”

“For Sir Tomura,” you correct.

“Which cannot be made until he chooses colors and a coat of arms!”

“Is that all?” the former king asks. Hakamada nods. “There are many existing coats of arms, and many colors to go with them, that are no longer bound to a lineage. We three shall choose one for Sir Tomura.”

You feel as though you shouldn’t be part of such an important decision, but you’re certain that Sir Tomura won’t care one way or the other. You follow the former king’s command to rise, and follow he and the tailor to the castle library. Hakamada is much more comfortable in the king’s presence than you are. Comfortable enough to speak. “Your Grace, should you not be at the council meeting?”

“The decisions to be made belong to young Izuku and his council, not to me.” The old king lifts a heavy book down from a high shelf, his arms shaking. “Here. These are the houses which have died out. Today we shall bring one back to life.”

Some of the devices and names in the book are easily recognizable, described and mentioned many times in the High Kingdom’s histories. Others are completely unfamiliar to you. The old king turns past page after page, then stops at one. “Shimura,” he says aloud. “Yes. This is the one.”

“Your Grace,” Hakamada says, startled or scandalized. “That name –”

“Is past due to be revived,” the old king says. He turns the book towards you. “Will this suit your lord?”

You study the device sketched in the book. It’s a grey background, ringed in red at the edges, with the blue shadow of a solitary tower at the center. It clearly means something to Hakamada, something he doesn’t approve of, but to your uneducated eyes, there’s nothing particularly offensive about it. And you know that Sir Tomura cares little for such things. You nod, and old king Toshinori smiles.

He was famous for his smile when he ruled, how bright and wide and fearless it was, but now his face is gaunt and angular, his eyes sunken, proof that his temporary victory in the battle against the Enemy did not cost him nothing. Your former kings and queens may have failed, as Sir Tomura said. But as you said in response, they tried, and to your mind, that counts for something.

Hakamada departs at once, mumbling about work to be done; while he would obfuscate and deny you, he would never dream of refusing the old king. The old king turns to you, and you sink into a curtsy. “Rise,” he instructs, and you do. “You have much to do today, do you not?”

“Yes, your Grace. If you will give me leave to go.”

“Where to next?”

You wish you had written out your list rather than trying to hold it in your mind. “A timepiece for my Lord’s room.”

“Ah, yes. Come with me,” the old king says. “I’ll assist you in choosing one.”

You meant to simply look through the room where broken objects are kept, searching for one that you could repair to look like new, but the old king leads you through the palace to the place where – “Fear not,” the old king says hastily. “Mirai is far more than a soothsayer.”

“And hardly that, these days.” The king’s fortuneteller has been reincarnated under many names, but he’s carried the name Nighteye in each life. “I am good for little more than crafting these days. Come inside. I have been expecting you.”

Your stomach lurches. “You have?”

“Of course. The White Death’s rooms are missing many items, and a conscientious servant would naturally seek them out.” Nighteye beckons you inside, and the king steps through the archway into his workshop. You follow him. “Here. This will serve.”

The timepiece he holds out is the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen, let alone touched – all silver and mother-of-pearl and pure white sand in its spun-glass chambers. You’ve seen larger timepieces when you’ve cleaned other nobles’ rooms, but none like this. “It will turn naturally with the passing of each hour. You will not need to adjust it.” Nighteye gestures for you to take it, and you hesitate. “If it’s my magic you fear, child, you need not do so. It has forsaken me.”

The old king clucks his tongue. “That is untrue.”

“My prophecies have never faltered,” Nighteye snaps at him. “For one to fail so catastrophically –”

“It did not fail,” King Toshinori says mildly. “A mighty kingdom was indeed brought to ruin. We had simply expected it to be ours.”

You had a similar thought. It eases your mind somewhat to hear it echoed by the old king, but you still don’t want to touch Nighteye. You’ve heard too many tales of those who touched him going mad from what they learned, collapsing under the weight of a fate they couldn’t imagine. Whatever your future is, you’d rather it remained a mystery. “Very wise,” Nighteye comments. He hands the timepiece to the old king instead, who does not flinch when their fingers brush. “Although perhaps unnecessary. Whatever purpose brought you to Castle Ultra, it seems you’ve uncovered it.”

You don’t know what he means by that, and you’re more than happy to leave him to his work. You’d like to leave the old king to whatever work occupies his days, but King Toshinori accompanies you from errand to errand, until your arms are full and you can’t carry any more. He looks you up and down, mild concern on his face. “May I assist you?”

“No, your Grace.” You’ve heard rumors of the old king’s fragile health, and seen blood trickling from the corner of his mouth on occasion. “Your Grace?”

“Yes, child?”

“Why – um – Sir Tomura –” You’re embarrassingly incoherent, sounding not at all like someone with a right to ask questions of the old king. “Why would you assist me with him? Everyone else –”

“Everyone else is young,” King Toshinori says softly. “I have no great age, but I was a grown man before King Izuku’s eldest councilors had left their cradles, and I remember well the terrible threat the Enemy posed. I faced him at the height of his powers, believing I would do anything to destroy him. But when the time came, there was one step I refused to take, one boundary I did not cross. Do you know what it was?”

“Dark magic.”

“Indeed,” the old king says. “I weighed the corruption of my own soul against the fate of my kingdom and decided in favor of myself. That is why One For All broke in my hands. It can be wielded only by one who is pure – not of heart, but of purpose, bent on a single goal.”

He smiles sadly. Even his gentlest smiles have the look of a death’s-head grin. “Your young Sir Tomura did what I dared not. Regardless of his reason, he bore the curse that should have befallen one of us. It is unpopular to say, perhaps, but I believe he deserves a warmer welcome than he has been given.”

You feel an unexpected surge of gratitude for the old king. Although you’re certain Sir Tomura will have little patience for it, there’s something reassuring in the knowledge that someone else sees what you see, approaches the matter of Sir Tomura in the same way as you do. You curtsy, as best you can with your arms full, and the old king nods. “Run along, child. I imagine you wish to complete your work before King Izuku’s council meeting concludes.”

Yes, you would. You would like for Sir Tomura to have a habitable space to return to, today. You curtsy again for the king and hurry off to the deserted wing of the palace once more.

When you arrive, the door stands open, and there’s someone inside. You asked her to be here, but you told her not to go in until you got there, on the off chance that Sir Tomura would be back already – and you should have known that Mei wouldn’t listen. She looks up at the sound of your footsteps. “Tell him to bring that breastplate down to the smithy. The damage can be repaired.”

“He doesn’t want it repaired,” you say.

“Then steal it when his back is turned and bring it yourself,” Mei says impatiently. “A knight needs a suit of armor, and an armorer. The name of the White Death’s favored smith will go down in history alongside his own, and my craftsmanship is equal to this task.”

She taps her knuckles against the ruined breastplate, then turns to you. “The fixtures in the bathing chamber are functional. The basin itself will need mending, but you can do that. What else is there?”

“The window,” you say. Mei nods brusquely. “Thank you.”

You set the items you collected down on the end of Sir Tomura’s unmade bed – something else to attend to before he returns – and help Mei replace the windowpane. She uses her magic to size the sheet of glass appropriately, while you use yours to seal the edges to the stone frame, tightly enough to keep out both chill and heat. “The White Death,” Mei muses. “Is he as terrible as the legends describe? They say he utters dark spells as easily as he breathes.”

“I’ve heard him say no spells,” you say. “But I have known him for only a day.”

Only a day. It feels but shorter and longer, somehow – the life you expected to lead yesterday morning has twisted beyond recognition, into a shape you never could have guessed. “He is said to be wrathful, too. I have not seen it.”

“You’ve yet to give him a reason, then,” Mei says. “A man isn’t given an epithet like the White Death unless he’s earned it.”

You suppose that’s true. You disbelieve none of the tales you’ve heard of the atrocities your Lord committed, and you think he’d be more likely to exaggerate them than to play them down if you were to ask. Yet at the same time there’s a hollowness to him, a sense that the rage and disdain are shallow, a sense that whatever animated him before is fading away with nothing to take its place. Sir Tomura is a monster, to be sure. Sir Tomura seems more lost to you than anyone you’ve ever met.

“Still,” Mei says, rapping her knuckles against the window and casting a charm to keep the glass forever clean, “when he’s looking to repair his armor, mention my name. He’ll find no one better.”

Mei wasn’t responsible for reforging One For All, but she crafted the wristguards and reinforced boots King Izuku wears into battle, all of them laced with strengthening spells and protective charms. Her magic is expressive, creative, resistant to her control or anyone else’s. Sir Tomura’s shattered breastplate is the sort of challenge she enjoys. You promise her you’ll direct him her way in the unlikely event that he changes his mind, and she leaves, leaving you to the remainder of your tasks.

Making the bed, hanging the canopy and curtains, clearing the last cobwebs out of the corners of the room, arranging the timepiece and the few decorations you’ve procured. You even saw the weavers about a tapestry, but they looked at you as though you were out of your mind. Sir Tomura has done only one great deed amidst a lifetime of horrors, they reminded you, and the tale of that deed has yet to be told. We cannot depict a story that no one knows.

Tapestries will wait. Today you must fix whatever was done to the basin in the bathing chamber. Mei said your magic was up to the task, but you’re not so sure. The cracks in the basin are narrow but numerous, and you start in an arbitrary spot, running your fingers over each edge and filling the space between them. You try to mend with white, with marble just like the rest of the basin’s, but what flows from the tips of your fingers is gold.

The sight of it startles you. You’ve mended with silver, copper, steel, cloth, stone, and wood before, but never gold. It’s a fluke, or so you think, until the next crack you trace mends golden, too. For a moment you’re transfixed by the sight of it. It’s pretty. Prettier than anything you’ve made has a right to be. Too pretty to stare at for long. You get back to work, wondering how long your magic will let you mend things this way. It’ll certainly go back to normal soon.

It lasts long enough to mend the entire basin, and long enough for you to turn your attention to some of the cosmetic flaws in the floor of the bathing chamber. You’re just putting the finishing touches on a long, spindling crack near the door when someone shouts your name. Shouts it once, and keeps shouting, until you get to your feet and hurry out into Sir Tomura’s chamber proper to investigate. “What is it?”

Itsuka, Lady Momo’s squire, stands in the doorway, out of breath and close to panic. “It’s the White Death,” she says, and your stomach clenches. “Sir Katsuki’s challenged him to a duel.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #reader insert #x reader #fantasy au #a bisquared production

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toxicanonymity · 7 months ago

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Hi!😊 What are your favourite horror books, shows and or movies? I'm not very familiar with the genre, but when I was a teenager I was hooked on The Fear Street series (R. L. Stine) and Stephen King books (my faves are Salem's Lot and Pet Cemetery). Recently I read the book with the long title about vampires by Grady Hendrix and I also loved it. As for TV shows I love Mike Flanagan's stories 💚

Fun question! I'm gonna answer it without too much thought, knowing I'm leaving off some faves. Otherwise I'd take forever and make it less fun 🥲. In no particular order. . .italic = added later.

Books - I know that Grady Hendrix one 😅 - "The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires," I liked it too. And Pet Sematary as well. As a kid, I really enjoyed Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, and imo the books hold up lol. I was also into Goosebumps. I like The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson and the miniseries. Horror-adjacent: The Snowman by Jo Nesbø; Sharp Objects by Gyllian Flynn (loved the miniseries, too). When I travel, I pick up a local ghost/hauntings book. Love folklore and urban legends.

Shows: Black Mirror, Dark, Hannibal, Yellowjackets s 1-2, Archive 81 (Matt McGorry is daddy). American Horror Story s1 Murder House. Dark Shows - Bordertown (Finnish). Maniac (sci-fi, the aesthetic scratches my brain soooo good).

Dark Non-fiction: series: Chernobyl, Dopesick, Dahmer, Murder Mountain. Unsolved Mysteries. Movies: The good nurse

Movies, skipping most of the classics: Coherence. The Bad Batch. The Guest. Barbarian. The Night House. Hell House LLC. The Lodge. The Endless. We Are Still Here. It Comes at Night. The Witch. Lake Mungo. mother!. Donnie Darko. Haunting in Connecticuit. The killing of a sacred deer. 10 Cloverfield Lane. The Menu. Candyman (both). [My idea of] Fun: M3gan, Us, Malignant, Terrifier 2, Bodies bodies bodies, It Follows, Thanksgiving, Green Inferno, Happy Death Day. And of course any I've written for.

Honorable mentions for physical effect: When Evil Lurks (Argentinian) made me physically gag out loud in the theater. I thirst-watched The Cursed and it gave me a nightmare (boyd wasn't in it ☹️). Tales from the Loop (sci fi series) made me sob.

I welcome no-pressure recommendations! More likely to try shows/movies.

#horror!ask #books #movies #shows #toxask

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torchwood-99 · 9 months ago

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Something really wonderful about Eowyn and how she is written is that even though she is a woman, and driven to extreme emotional lengths, at no point is she depicted as an "hysterical woman" by the narrative. If anything, when Eowyn is allowed to speak, she can be brutally logical.

In her argument with Aragorn, Aragorn presents what is a generally good point, but Eowyn absolutely rips it to shreds by pointing out what his hypothetical point means for her (and other women) in reality.

‘A time may come soon.’ said he, ‘when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.’ And she answered: ‘All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honor, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.’

Aragorn cannot dispute that. Whether he agrees or not, he cannot find fault in her reasoning. He has to change tack by addressing emotions.

‘What do you fear, lady?’ he asked. ‘A cage,’ she said. ‘To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’

Now Aragorn tries to use logic again.

‘And yet you counselled me not to adventure on the road that I have chosen, because it is perilous?’ ‘So may one counsel another,’ she said. ‘Yet I do not bid you flee from peril, but to ride to battle where your sword may win renown and victory. I would not see a thing that is high and excellent cast away needlessly.’ ‘Nor would I,’ he said. ‘Therefore I say to you, lady: Stay! For you have no errand to the South.’ ‘Neither have those others who go with thee. They go only because they would not be parted from thee — because they love thee.’ Then she turned and vanished into the night.'

He tries to use her own points against her, and she instantly gets back at him, hit for hit. He tries to respond to that with a mix of flattery and general "you just can't, that's why". Even then, Eowyn points out his double standards. For admitting her love, almost, Eowyn has to turn away and leave, yet she is left with the last word.

Even when facing the Nazgul, Eowyn has the last say, using the Nazgul's own words against him.

A cold voice answered: 'Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.'

A sword rang as it was drawn. 'Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.'

'Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!'

Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed.... 'But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund's daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.'

Eowyn is staring downt he fucking Witch King, and is Rules Lawyering him. The Nazgul throws fear at Eowyn, and Eowyn throws reason back. To devastating effect.

'The winged creature screamed at her, but the Ringwraith made no answer, and was silent, as if in sudden doubt. Very amazement for a moment conquered Merry's fear. He opened his eyes and the blackness was lifted from them.'

That bit of wordplay strikes doubt into the heart of her enemy, and courage into the heart of her ally, who is able to provide her pivotal assistance in her victory.

Again, when Eowyn debates with the Warden, he makes a good general point about wishing for peace over war, and wished people would heal instead of kill, and Eowyn points out why this ideal just doesn't work in reality.

'But for long years we healers have only sought to patch the rents made by the men of swords. Though we should still have enough to do without them: the world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them.' 'It needs but one foe to breed a war, not two, Master Warden,' answered Éowyn. 'And those who have not swords can still die upon them. Would you have the folk of Gondor gather you herbs only, when the Dark Lord gathers armies? And it is not always good to be healed in body. Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter.'

Eowyn points out that as much as the Warden would wish there was no war, when a war is started against you, it must be fought against.

Eowyn's more tragic declaration that she would rather die in battle than live to be healed also doesn't strike me as "hysterical", but a response that is logic, that isn't tempered by faith or hope. She knows in all likelihood death is upon them, the chances of victory are slim, and for that reason, she would rather die in battle, than be healed, only to be slaughtered when the enemy comes.

It almost puts me in mind of the of the opening to The Haunting Of Hill House. "No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more."

That's Eowyn. Living alone, in darkness, her dreams denied her, forced to live under the reality that victory is improbable, and all that is awaiting her is death.

When she meets with Faramir, she responds to his use of logic, helped along by the fact that he doesn't question her wishes, but instead advises her how best to achieve her ends.

'But I do not desire healing,' she said. 'I wish to ride to war like my brother Éomer, or better like Théoden the king, for he died and has both honour and peace.' 'It is too late, lady, to follow the Captains, even if you had the strength,' said Faramir. 'But death in battle may come to us all yet, willing or unwilling. You will be better prepared to face it in your own manner, if while there is still time you do as the Healer commanded. You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting.'

He acknowledges that Eowyn's wish to die is a wish to die on her own terms, instead of being slaughtered, and doesn't dismiss her as irrational or hysterical. He sees the truth of the matter, and the advice he gives her is advice on how best to do what she wishes.

He also acknowledges they are in the same situation, talking about themselves as "we", assuring her he's on her side, and is not in opposition to her. He's not framed as a rational man schooling the irrational woman, but as a fellow at arms who sees himself in her situation and is sharing advice, one comrade to another.

That respect, that understanding, is enough to move Eowyn to tears, and she shows Faramir some vulnerability. She can do so, because someone is treating her as a reasonable being, and is actually listening to what she has to say.

We also see that Eowyn can put her rational, logical thinking into practise. We only have a glimpse of her taking charge of Dunharrow, but it's clear she has everything well arranged, despite the high pressure situation, where she is dealing with both the people's practical and emotional struggles.

“All is well. It was a weary road for the people to take, torn suddenly from their homes. There were hard words, for it is long since war has driven us from the green fields; but there have been no evil deeds. All is now ordered, as you see. And your lodging is prepared for you; for I have had full tidings of you and knew the hour of your coming.”

She gives a concise update on the situation, on the struggles they endured, a logical and empathetic reasoning for those struggles, and shows that everything has been sorted in the end, with no major issues at hand.

And there's no condescending suggestion that when Eowyn is right, or accomplishes something or is aware of something, that it is because of her "woman's intuition" or "natural woman's empathy", which sounds flattering at first, but in practise only acts to deny women their ability to use reason (like "men do") while still explaining why they might still have any insight. No, Eowyn is able to look at the situation around her, and draw logical conclusions.

The refutation of Eowyn's suffering being only that of an "emotional" or "hysterical" woman without an outward source comes most clearly when Gandalf explains to Eomer that Eowyn's suffering doesn't come from her thwarted love for Aragorn, nor does it stem from a vague, unknown emotional font from within, but as an entirely justified and reasonable response to the situation she was in.

'My friend, you had horses, and deed of arms, and the free fields; but she, being born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.'

Women being inherently "emotional" has often been used to explain why a woman might be suffering, might be angry or frustrated or resentful, without having to assign fault or responsibility to anyone or anything but herself.

It is never her circumstances or the actions of the people around her that has elicited this emotional response, but her very womanhood. And therefore, her troubles can be overlooked or dismissed, and those around her can continue to act as they will, without guilt or blame.

Here, Gandalf and the narrative absolutely smash that insinuation, by rightly pinning the main cause of Eowyn's suffering on the terrible circumstances she was in.

Eowyn is allowed to be at once emotional and logical. Her extreme emotions are allowed to have a logical reason behind them, and she is at her best when logic and emotion are united. In leading the people to Dunharrow, she shows both reason and compassion. In standing before the Nazgul, she uses both her devotion to her uncle, and a nifty bit of wordplay against the Witch King. When she meets Faramir, she is able to open her heart, because he shows his respect to her as a rational being right from the first.

#Lotr #Lord of the Rings #Eowyn #Faramir #Farawyn

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eliteseven · 2 months ago

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hey!!! i've been wanting to do this asks since chapter 2 came out, but unfortunately life stepped up 😭

this isn't an ask for questions or similar, it's just me adoring and fan girling over your writing, it made me LITERALLY giggle when Serena said "Perhaps you’ll get to see it for yourself yet; I’m certain any little Jenevelle or Serena we might have will undoubtedly inherit or learn my less-than-graceful ways.” and Shart said "...You do intend to get me in a family way .” i was twirling my hair, kicking my feet during this scene, and then i remembered: oh dear selûne, why am i single?

and not only that part, i LOVED the "It was a journey marred by loss, blood, hardship upon hardship- but the result is this : serenity. Serena’s own namesake, a feeling brought to life every time their lips meet, or their smiles are exchanged, under the soft glow of the moon." i am in love how you used Serena's name meaning to describe their new life 🥺 it's so genius, but also so simple, them and true 🥺 i am forever enchanted by how you describe and build their cottage in love life, it makes me dream having one with Shart as well </3

but this is, this ask was simply to simp for your writing, hope i let that clear. if not, here goes again: please don't ever stop writing!!!! especially to us, gays, who wanted to live a cottage life with Shadowheart!!!! please!!!! thank you for your attention, hope you have a good day *bow down while taking off a hat*

ps.: i need, URGENTLY, to update myself with the last asks you've been getting lately because you guys have been suggesting more angsty and you are apparently accepting IT???!?!?@? WHAT HAPPENED

🥺 this ask made ME giggle like a schoolgirl and twirl my hair!!!! This was like randomly finding 100k in my wallet!!!! This fed and watered my crops, cleared my skin, nurtured my soul, etc.

To keep this legible on the dash I’m thanking you profusely under the cut lol

THANK YOU!!!! 🥰 you are SO SO kind and I’m undeserving!!! I’m really glad you liked the family bit haha 🥹 Shads was very delighted to find out Tav’s been fantasizing about sharing children with her! (Tav’s timing is just awful but we all knew that lol)

And I’m glad you liked the bit about her namesake, too! 😊 I think Serena’s name represents what she was hoping to achieve in life, and now she has. She was never a particularly serene child, funnily enough, so…she grew into it 🥹

I’m so happy you enjoy all the mushy cottage fluff. It feels cathartic to write, on some level, and it makes me elated to know it can feel that way reading it, too! I feel so honored by your incredibly kind words- and really, I’m just happy I can make you feel happy with my writing, what a gift!!!💕

About the angst: 🤭 it’s just for funsies!!! A little something to spice up the plot and showcase how much they actually love each other. Who doesn’t love Shadowheart slaying Sharrans in the name of her betrothed? I offered domestic fluff and smut but this is what the mob wanted, I fear 😅

Thank you endlessly for sharing your favorite lines, your thoughts, and just generally making my day/week/month/lifetime a thousand times better! 😭❤️ it is appreciated more than you know!!!!

#gotta save this #it’s so sweet #and means so much to me!!! ❤️❤️❤️#thank you 🥹#ask #beforthestorm

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my-castles-crumbling · 5 months ago

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hey cas! wow, look at me not going anon for once ahahaha

also, while im here id just like to say that your name now reminds me of two taylor swift songs. castles crumbling (for obvious reasons) but also now i see 'cas' and i think 'ah, they killed you first because you feared the worst, hm? did you try to tell the town?' this has no relevance to the rest of my ask but it makes me smile to mashup the two songs in my head every time i come across one of your posts <3

(but also now that i think about it: castles crumbling x cassandra mashup??? that would absolutely slay and im quite incredibly tempted to make it now)

i wondered if you had any advice for how to go about reaching out to an old friend? we went to the same high school for a year and got really close but then when she moved schools we lost touch. its now been over a year and a half but i keep finding things that remind me of her and its really making me wanna recconect somehow, but it feels so awkward and weird to just... message her? what do i even say ahaha

shes a really sweet and warm and all-round lovely person (yes i had a minor crush on her when we were close. i know its obvious but i never made a move, she liked someone else, it didnt change anything with us) so i know she wouldnt be likely to be really weird about me reaching out but its still absolutely terrifying because what if she doesnt think about our old friendship anymore? what if im a faded memory by now?? what if she thinks it is really random and weird for me to reach out now all of a sudden?

any advice at all would be greatly appreciated! (as are you! youre so awesome and the fact that we interact sometimes is still so cool to me, so thank you for your existence! youre so worthy of everything good that comes to you <3)

Okay but that mashup would be so cool. Please make it.

As far as reaching out- I mean it is random, but not bad! How would you feel if someone reached out to you? Like I would be honored, you know? That someone was thinking of me. I think the thing is, its not insulting to reach out to someone, it's a NICE thing to do. So you should! If she acts awkward, it's not anything you did wrong, she's just not a cool person anymore and at least you tried!

Also YOU are just as worthy of amazingness, hon <3

#ask #asks #ask cas

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dragoneyes618 · 6 months ago

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Judaism is an amazing religion that has so many benefits. Here are my top seven reasons why I love being Jewish.

1. Women are valued and held in high regard.

Women are honored and respected in Judaism.

Don’t roll your eyes at this one; it’s absolutely true. While it’s possible that certain individuals don’t respect women the way they should, that’s not what Judaism promotes.

Women play a central role in Jewish survival. Every story of persecution throughout history ends with a woman saving the day. The Torah, our primary Jewish text, states that in every generation it is the righteous Jewish women who saved the entire generation. Miriam merited our Exodus from Egypt in the story of Passover. Esther is front and center in saving us from the wicked Haman in the story of Purim. Yehudit slayed our biggest opponent and won the war in the story of Hanukkah, when everyone else was beginning to give up.

Throughout the Torah, women are respected and spoken of positively. For example, when Abraham and Sarah have a disagreement, G-d tells Abraham to listen to the voice of Sarah, his wife (Genesis 21:12). “Whatever Sarah tells you, listen to her voice.” Commentaries explain that Sarah’s prophecy was more potent and powerful than her husband’s.

The marriage contract, ketubah, is primarily concerned with the husband’s obligations to his wife. It delineates his requirement to provide her with food, shelter, and clothing. He is also obligated to ensure he is responsive to her in all ways.

2. Physical pleasure is important, too.

While some religions call for the denouncement of the physical pleasures of the world, Judaism emphasizes the importance of physical pleasure in general. We are commanded to eat meat and drink wine at certain times and beautify our surroundings and belongings. It is a mitzvah, a commandment, to physically beautify and enhance the observance of Shabbat with physical pleasures. Buying jewelry and wearing beautiful new clothing is promoted for holidays. We are meant to enjoy the physical instead of neglecting it.

Even the care of our physical needs and the needs of our family is a commandment.

Many other religions negate the physical claiming that it takes away from higher spiritual goals. Judaism demands that we partake in the physical and elevate it. That is the primary way to attain holiness – through proper engagement in the world, not from running away from it.

3. Nobody is perfect.

In Judaism, it’s not all or nothing. No one is expected to be perfect. That’s why the Torah gives you the commandment called teshuva, which can only be fulfilled after you mess up.

We are humans, not machines. Perfection isn’t the goal; growth is. Even the greatest leaders in Jewish history, starting from Abraham and Moses, made some serious mistakes. No one is infallible.

We are meant to learn from our mistakes and keep moving in the right direction.

Mistakes are valuable, and are even at the core of developing real self-esteem. Judaism recognizes this and encourages growth through learning from our mistakes.

4. Judaism is a relationship, not just a religion.

Judaism is about developing a relationship with G-d one that promotes love, not fear of punishment.

I was visiting my hometown, Atlanta, Georgia, when I needed a haircut. As an observant, married woman, I cover my hair in public, and therefore asked a salon if they would accommodate me in a private room.

We headed into a back room, and the hairdresser actually expressed that she had never met a Jewish person before. She was intrigued by all the laws and details that accompanied Orthodox Judaism.

With a heavy southern accent, she asked me, “So…what happens when you sin?”

I looked at her somewhat confused and responded, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You know, like what happens when you do something wrong? Does lightning strike, or something? Do you get punished?”

I was shocked by her question, but was happy to answer that Judaism doesn’t view G-d as a big, bad wolf-type figure, looking to punish us whenever we sin. I explained that nothing physical happens per se, and that it’s always a person’s choice as to whether or not she wants to follow G-d’s command.

Judaism takes the opposite approach of the fire and brimstone as a form of motivation to serve G-d. We always have free will to choose how and if we honor G-d in our life. The goal of Judaism is connection, and performing commandments is meant to develop a deep relationship.

Mitzvot, like prayer, helps us develop a relationship with G-d. It is a way to hand our burden to G-d and lean on Him. He is our unchanging rock and support, no matter how we choose to live.

5. Judaism helps you stay happy.

Torah is the instruction manual for life. G-d gives us life, and tells us how to live it the best way possible by providing guidelines for living your best and happiest life.

For example, Judaism values connection over accomplishment – unlike what society promotes. A healthy, thriving family is the ultimate goal, rather than earthly pursuits such as professional success and the mass accumulation of fancy possessions.

When you think about your happiest moment in life, it probably has to do with connection. That is because connection is the root of all joy.

Prayer, giving charity, and laws governing marriage all have benefits to them that help us live our best and happiest life.

6. Intellectual pursuits have their own rewards.

A family friend of ours graduated from Harvard and was one of six people accepted into a fellowship program out of thousands that applied. He is one of the youngest doctors appointed Chairman of Anesthesia in the history of the U.S., and was recently presented with the Doctor of the Year award amongst a nationwide group of anesthesiologists.

Essentially, he’s a super smart, hardworking guy.

He did not grow up observant, and only learned about Judaism as an adult. Despite attending an Ivy League school and working hard all his life, he claims that there is no subject more intellectually stimulating and challenging than Judaism.

I agree.

Every word of the Torah is perfect and intentional, and they all weave together like a massive puzzle. There are layers of depth and no end to how deeply you can learn the material. Dive in and see for yourself.

7. We are eternal, never going anywhere, and that’s G-d’s promise.

l love being Jewish because we are an eternal nation. Every Jewish person reading this is a walking miracle.

According to the Nazis, we aren’t supposed to be here. Egypt would have loved to wipe every Jew off the planet. The Crusaders wished to destroy us by death and forced conversion, but we escaped and survived. According to any scientific calculation, the Jewish nation is not supposed to exist today. Yet, walk into any Jewish day school, and you will find vibrant children in the classrooms laughing, singing, and learning Torah freely! Despite all odds, we are still here, all of us walking, breathing miracles.

When all else is forgotten, we will still be here. This is G-d’s promise to us. We are the eternal nation, forever connected to G-d.

These seven reasons and more are why I love Judaism. Why do you love being Jewish? What’s your top reason? Leave a comment below:

#judaism #jews and judaism #jumblr #am yisrael chai

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smolghostbot · 1 year ago

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Battle Against a True Hero: Part 1/3

Because this scenario with Contralto was rotating in my head all weekend like a microwave. I'll probably upload part 2 soon, it's longer but this is the natural spot the divide the story, y'know?

Part 2

Word count: 500ish Contralto character reference

======

"... … For centuries, sprites have lived in the darkness, fearing your kind. Well no more! Tonight is when that changes! That's why it is my goal to eliminate all humans, starting with you! Now, draw your weapon, human! And prepare as I, Contralto, Hero of the Sprites, Defender of the Helpless, the Hero Who Never Gives Up, will defeat you and free my people! Prepare to be struck down by the combined hopes and dreams of all of spritekind!"

He yawned as his bleary eyes tried to focus on the little creature standing on his coffee table. He just came out here to get some water and now, if he wasn't still dreaming, was getting lectured to by some kind of… elf? fairy? Something, that was holding some kind of tiny sewing tools and looked ready to leap at him.

He was too tired for this.

"Okay, so, uh, let me get this straight. You're… Contralto, a 'sprite', and you want to, uh, fight me. And doing that will somehow free your people from centuries of injustice?"

The tiny sprite on the table seemed frustrated, as if she was being asked to repeat herself. She broke from her fighting stance, placing her hands on her hips. "Yes, yes, I already said that! I defeat you, I defeat the other humans, I save the world. Are you going to accept my challenge or not?!"

As the human yawned, he responded with a simple "Hm… not." before starting to walk away.

"Hey! You can't run from me! Get back here so I can slay you!", the sprite cried.

The human stopped to think, a hard task when his brain wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. "Listen, uh, Contralto, you seem like an honorable, uh, 'hero'. Are you really going to fight a weaponless, half-awake guy? I literally don't even have pants on, I wasn't exactly expecting to fight a hero tonight. How about you come back, like…", he stopped to gaze at the clock, which was only a bit after 3am, "I don't know, five hours from now? And you can uh, 'slay me' then, how does that sound?"

The sprite was contemplative as she thought about this deal, before excitedly striking a pose, raising one of her weapons high. "I see… Very well then, human! I expect you to be ready, armed, and… wearing appropriate combat gear. And we shall fight with honor to determine the fate of this world"

Her tone darkened a bit and her voice grew deeper, though still quite high. "But… should you take advantage of my honor to flee… you'll regret it, human."

With a mumbled "Yeah, okay", the human walked back to his bedroom and almost instantly collapsed, wondering what he just signed himself up for in the morning. He could probably slap that little woman clear across a room if she truly wanted him to fight, but obviously he couldn't do that. Maybe trying to talk would help? She certainly seemed upset… Whatever, this was a problem for the morning.

#oc tag: contralto #i have no idea what the human's name is. oops.#also for the record. sprites in this setting have some tragedy sure... just like humans. but they aren't quite 'living in fear'.#contralto is DRAMATICALLY overstating how miserable being a sprite is. i mean they don't have even have taxes.#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t ocs #sfw g/t

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wqintraining · 1 year ago

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NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 3, EPISODE 1 (PART 1 OF 2)

Season 3 opens thousands of years ago, on the island nation of Okkara. We find ourselves witnessing an epic battle raging between hundreds of Mutants and an army of invading Daemons. Absolutely none of these Mutants appear human in any way, their abilities are strange but powerful, and every last one of them is a fierce combatant. Of course, the demons are equally vicious.

In the middle of the battlefield, we pan up the man shouting orders to his men: En Sabah Nur - Apocalypse.

APOCALYPSE: “Prove yourselves capable of defending your home, or perish and get out of the way!”

A horde of the demons takes sight of Apocalypse, standing out in the open, and elect to attack him all at once.

Their mistake.

Without any Mutant power, Apocalypse merely draws his blades and uses them to slay demon after demon, not even needing to move an inch from where he stands. Even as an especially large and dangerous-looking one swoops down at him from above, a psychic wave utterly annihilates it.

APOCALYPSE: “To victory!”

Their lord’s show of force inspires the army of Mutants, who proceed to finish off the invading demons.

With the battle won, Apocalypse brings his army all around. They have done well! They have protected Okkara! And, most importantly, they have once again proven their strength! Tonight, they celebrate with a feast!

The entire army bellows out a war cry, cheering on Lord Apocalypse.

As this happens, Apocalypse takes notice of a Mutant dragging himself toward the others. He’s lost both of his legs and is bleeding out heavily. He has no chance of survival. With a nod of their lord’s head, Apocalypse’s army makes way for him.

APOCALYPSE: “Look at you. Beaten and desperately clinging to life. Pathetic and weak. Do you at least possess the honor to accept what must come next with dignity?”

MUTANT: “Y…yes, Lord Apocalypse. I do not fear death.”

Apocalypse hums, before stomping down on the Mutant’s head, crushing it.

Apocalypse tells his child to rest well, and his army to speak of their greatest memories of him as they feast.

More cheers for Apocalypse. He grins.

We cut to a dark, makeshift laboratory in the present. Apocalypse is hooked up to a chair via a plethora of cables and tubes, appearing weak and tired, but just as menacing as ever, as he takes long, deep breaths.

A team of scientists are working on something unclear. A figure stands at Apocalypse’s side, dressed in the same armor as him, with their face hidden behind a helmet and their hands behind their back. The walls are littered with stained glass portraits of Apocalypse.

The scientists are working in terror under the cold, watchful eyes of Apocalypse and his general, as well as a group of cultists dressed in blue robes. Accompanied by a striking sound, a large red “X” appears on one of their monitors. One of the scientists, a middle-aged man who looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in days, cringes in terror, nearly crying, as he forces himself to turn around and fall to his knees before Apocalypse.

SCIENTIST: “P…permission to speak?”

Speaking in a modulated, feminine voice, Apocalypse’s general tells him to proceed.

The scientist weakly squeaks out that their most recent attempt has failed. Apocalypse grumbles, but the scientist quickly stammers that they can keep trying…but they need more resources.

Apocalypse nods.

SCIENTIST, desperate: “And…maybe some food and water to clear our minds?”

Apocalypse blows the man up with HIS mind, blood and bones flying everywhere.

As the cultists hurry to clean up their master’s mess, Apocalypse coughs and pants. His general tenderly rests a hand on his arm.

GENERAL: “Do not worry. We will be victorious.”

APOCALYPSE: “Mmm. We must be, War. Or all will be lost.” He composes himself and turns to War. “Summon Famine at once.”

War groans in annoyance.

WAR: “Must I?”

Apocalypse growls.

WAR, still irritated, but knowing to follow orders: “Fine. At once, my lord.”

We zoom in on Apocalypse’s face, as he’s unable to hide the desperation in his eyes.

We cut to a ringing school bell, as excited students race down the halls. With an exterior shot of the school and a sign outside, we learn that this is not a rebuilt Xavier Institute, but something new: The Jean Grey School. The front lawn is just as packed as it was in episode 1.

Dani, Karma, Wolfsbane, and Cannonball are working to manage the crowd. From the dialogue, we learn it's been 8 months since the end of the last season.

While Dani and Xuan have done this before, the others are nervous and overwhelmed.

DANI: “The PI and the Avenger can’t handle some kids?”

WOLFSBANE: “Who said anything about not being able to handle it? It’s just…a lot.”

Rahne nervously rubs her heels against one another.

“Sam!”

The previously seen Jay and Melody Guthrie fly up to their older brother. Jay looks a little sad, while Melody has the widest grin on her face. Melody expresses how great it is to be here and see everyone again.

MELODY: “But wait, isn’t Roberto supposed to be here too?”

Rahne groans. She should have known he’d be late.

DANI, annoyed: “With Da Costa International back on top, of course he doesn’t have time for us little people.”

SAM: “Won’t even tell us who his darn silent partner is.”

As Sam says that, we briefly cut to a country club golf course, where it seems like Roberto and Monet are playing golf. In reality, they’ve made a game out of lobbing golf balls at old white baselines’ heads. They have a good laugh as Roberto nails one wearing a red ball cap.

Regardless, Dani welcomes the new students, while Karma, noticing his mood, asks Jay what’s wrong. Isn’t he eager to start school? Jay says it’s nothing. Melody meanwhile tells him to cheer up. This is the greatest day of their lives!

Inside, Quentin Quire declares that this is the worst day of his life. Venting to Brian, he cannot believe his parents made him come back here. He was perfectly fine with tutors, but noooooo. Now he’s once again trapped in this embodiment of everything wrong with humankind and Mutantkind alike.

BRIAN: “Happy to see you again too.”

QUENTIN: “Oh, don’t be so sensitive. You know I think highly of you.”

BRIAN: “Uh huh. And anyway, I’d have thought you’d be happy to be here now that Magneto is in charge. You’re a fan, right?”

“Clearly not a big enough fan to attend orientation.”

Brian and Quentin cringe as they’re caught skipping orientation by Nightcrawler and Warpath.

NIGHTCRAWLER: “I recommend going now before we have to give out detentions on the first day. And perhaps a change in role model?”

Quentin sneers and snorts at the two as he adjusts his glasses.

As the two turn around, they’re spooked by Danger as she comes around the corner.

DANGER: “Hello students. I hope you’re ready for another exciting year of education.”

BRIAN, catching his breath: “Not from you, tin can.”

Brian and Quentin march off as a sad Danger is comforted by Kurt and James. Kurt swears about the kids in German. Tag should know better than to be so rude. Especially considering Danger is the one who helped rebuild the school. With Forge having disappeared off the face of the Earth, she was the only one who COULD have helped Beast get this done so fast.

James tells Kurt not to be so hard on them. Danger may not deserve that, but they have a right to be angry. He knows what happened to Sofia messed Laura up pretty badly.

Danger hangs her head, wishing she could see her and apologize, but Forge isn’t the only one they’ve had no luck in tracking down.

KURT: “Speaking of my second favorite Wolverine…is Laura coming back this year?”

We cut to Japan, where Laura and Logan are battling Hand ninjas. Laura shouts that, no, she isn’t going back to school.

Logan questions if this means she’s quitting the X-Men. Because after 8 months of him telling Slim and Magneto she’d be back, they won’t be too happy to hear that. Laura doesn’t care. Yes, she’s quitting. She has to.

LAURA: “Hellion lost his hands because I took him into battle before he was ready. Wind Dancer lost her powers because I gave her the extra training she needed to be an X-Man. I’m the problem. It’s all me.”

Logan snarks that clearly she’s been learning too much from Cyclops if she’s become so self-absorbed she thinks all the world’s problems are her fault. Laura doesn’t respond.

Logan and Laura finish off the last of the ninjas with a double-kick to the face. Logan then tells Laura that he’s done a lot wrong in his life. He’s old, it happens. But even if she has messed up, she shouldn’t let that stop her from doing what’s right. She’s stronger than that.

Laura says that she is doing what’s right by staying away and helping Logan. The X-Men don’t need her. And hopefully, after everything, none of her friends will be jumping into fights anymore.

Logan snickers knowingly, as he pulls out his phone and shows Laura something. Laura seethes, and as she starts to shout a swear, we cut to her in the Jean Grey School’s foyer, being enthusiastically hugged by Cessily, Roxy, and Sooraya.

LAURA: “Please…stop touching.”

As the girls pull away, Cessily expresses how happy she is to see her. Did she see the music video she was in?!

ROXY, lovingly: “She’s been asking everyone that.”

CESSILY: “Shush!”

Laura shakes her head and apologizes. Sooraya tells her it’s fine. She just wants to know if she’s okay. They weren’t sure she’d be coming back. Laura explains that she wasn’t going to…until Logan showed her what Hellion and Surge have been up to.

In the middle of Manhattan, Random, Vanisher, and Firefist race out of a bank, having just robbed it, as alarms blare. Vanisher can’t believe he’s been reduced to this, citing how he was one of the earliest enemies of the X-Men, while Random is just glad he’ll be able to pay rent this month and won’t have to threaten his honestly not that bad landlord, and Firefist is panicking.

FIREFIST: “Oh god, why did I do this? Why are we doing this?!”

Random tells the kid to shut up. They’re doing this because it’s all they can do. He orders Vanisher to get them out of there.

VANISHER: “Don’t tell me what to do.”

FIREFIST: “But…but what if the X-Men show up?”

RANDOM: “Kid, I promise you, the X-Men do not care about bank robbers.”

“True.”

Vanisher is knocked away from the others by a lightning blast.

“But you make for good training dummies.”

The three Mutant robbers turn their heads to find Kitty, Iceman, Surge, and Hellion staring them down.

RANDOM, knowing he’s fucked: “Oh come on.”

Kitty reminds the kids how this goes. She and Iceman will hang back and only get involved if they need help. Otherwise, they’re all theirs.

VANISHER: “You’re throwing kids at us? Seriously?!”

BOBBY, laughing: “Oh, my guy, you have no idea what you’re in for. Wait, Vanisher? You’re robbing banks now? That’s hilarious.”

VANISHER: “Screw you!”

KITTY: “Very clever.” She turns her head. “Rusty, man, what are you doing with these clowns?”

RUSTY, engulfing himself in flames: “Don’t you pretend to care now!”

JULIAN: “Oh, hey, Surge. He’s got an aura.”

NORI: “I noticed. We should show him ours.”

Surge and Hellion charge themselves up with lightning and tk energy, filling the robbers’ eyes with panic. With Surge moving too fast for even the teleporting Vanisher to react to, he’s knocked out immediately, while Hellion, having studied the X-Men’s rogues’, knows that Random can resist Mutant powers, so he instead flings a mailbox at his head to put him down.

Firefist launches an attack on the kids, attempting to set them aflame.

FIREFIST: “Here’s a little tip, kids: you’re batting for the wrong team! Sooner or later, the X-Men will dump you like they did me!”

KITTY: “What?! We didn’t dump you!”

BOBBY: “Well…not intentionally.”

Both protected by Hellion’s forcefields, he and Surge are completely unphased as they counterattack.

HELLION: “No offense, but a weak dweeb like you deserved to get dumped.”

Hellion and Surge attack together, easily blowing Firefist away. The battle won, the two fist bump with smug looks on their faces.

SURGE: “I’m not saying I want another Cassandra Nova or Danger, but some villains that can actually fight back would be nice.”

As the civilian hostages race out of the bank, they cheer on the heroes. The four X-Men gather around, and Kitty tells the kids good work, and to enjoy the praise; all the people here will be back to hating them in an hour.

Julian bristles at that. Training by whaling on petty crooks is fun and all, but these flatscans don’t deserve their help. Noriko agrees, adding that she’d rather be fighting the cops or SHIELD agents who are about to pick up the villains than her own people.

Kitty reminds them that’s not what the X-Men do. Professor Xaiver may be a jerk, but his dream is still a good one. Peaceful co-existence between humans and Mutants. And it’s their job to keep the modicum of peace that currently exists, not to further escalate things with humanity.

NORIKO: “Ms. Pryde, with all due respect…fuck humanity.”

Kitty and Bobby look to each other with concern about the kids.

Back at the school, Dani knocks on Magik’s door.

DANI: “We haven’t talked in a while. I know you haven’t talked…to anyone in a while.” We see inside Yana’s room that the lights are off, Yana is buried under the covers hugging her stuffed animals, and her eyes are haunted. “But I think you’re the only other X-Man here right now, so maybe you want to come join our old “Teach” for his orientation speech?”

Illyana just pulls her covers over her face.

Dani sighs.

KARMA, approaching: “No luck?”

DANI, shaking her head: “Nothing.”

Dani vents about how, a few months after Magik’s confrontation with Dark Phoenix, she came back to the hotel everyone was staying in. She only said a few words, and only to Kitty, but from what she was able to gather from those words, Phoenix, embodiment of “life” that she is, flipped around her proportions. Now, instead of being a demon with a sliver of humanity, she was a Mutant who had the essence of a demon where her soul should be. She hasn’t said two words since, and she only came out of her room when they made the move to the new school.

Xuan is disheartened by this continued failure on their part, but they can’t give up. After all, if they can get Illyana out of this stupor she’s been in, they may just have their friend back for real.

As Cessily, Sooraya, Roxy, and Laura chat on their way to the auditorium, they’re stopped and greeted by the Cuckoos, who hope their time away has been as fulfilling as theirs.

SOPHIE: “Notice anything different?”

ROXY, mockingly: “What? You got your noses done?”

IRMA, not picking up on the sarcasm and genuinely happy: “Among other things.”

Esme asks if they’d like to sit together, but that just makes Cessily laugh. She knows they made some kind of peace with Julian and Sofia last year, and they even helped stop Dark Phoenix, but they still have no reason to forgive these bitches.

Cessily, Roxy, and Laura brush past the saddened Cuckoos without a second thought.

SOORAYA, noticing how saddened the Cuckoos seem to be: “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

Even if it’s on a more polite and sympathetic note, Dust leaves them behind as well.

In the auditorium, everyone is gathered for orientation. Backstage, Magneto is taking breaths as he prepares to speak to his 200+ new students.

CANNONBALL: “Sir, you led a nation. How are you nervous about speaking to a bunch of kids?”

ERIK: “Well, Samuel, I could try and posture to you about how Magneto is never nervous and you’re clearly delusional, but you know me too well for that. No..I’m just tired.”

The X-Men haven’t been busy lately. No new anti-Mutant groups like the Purifiers or U-Men, no massive threats to the world at large, and no “evil Mutants” foolish enough to challenge an X-Men team led by him. Cyclops has continued to fill Charles’ diplomatic shoes, Emma oversaw the construction of the new school and related duties, and Kitty, Bobby, and the students have dealt with the humiliating dirty work Charles consigned them to do for SHIELD.

With nothing much for him to do, he’s been able to focus on resting and recovering. Spending what time he can with his children. Spending other time reaching out to families of Genoshans he knew had still been in positive contact with their human relatives.

But it hasn’t been enough. Nothing can shake the pain or guilt he feels.

SAM: “I’m…sorry, Sir.”

MAGNETO: “Don’t be. It’s a waste of time.” He puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We cannot fail these children. No matter what.”

Magneto prepares to head on stage to give his speech, but as he does so, he coughs. He admits that maybe he is a little nervous. As Sam knows well, teenagers aren’t his forte.

MAGNETO: “Dammit Cyclops, this was your job. Where are you?”

Magneto heads on stage and is met with thunderous applause and cheers from the students. We cut immediately from their cheers to Emma’s moans, as Scott blasts her in bed while she’s in her diamond form.

Emma’s moan fades as Scott stops blasting. She reverts to her normal form as she falls over in bed, right into Scott’s arms. Both have the happiest smiles one can imagine as they laugh and giggle, respectively.

Only half-serious and half-caring, Emma questions if Scott doesn’t have a speech to be giving right now.

SCOTT: “If Erik wants to lead, Erik can lead. I have more important things to tend to.”

Scott crawls down the bed, making Emma laugh again, but she ends up shoving him off the bed with her foot. Sorry, but she actually does have plans. She and Danielle have set up a little welcome-back party for all their kids. And apparently, Kitty and Bobby also want to speak to her about Hellion and Surge, but she’s sure that’s nothing to worry about.

As the two get up, Scott questions if a party is really the best idea. He’s sure they’re all happy to see each other again, but they aren’t ALL here to see each other again.

Emma sighs in shame. It’s embarrassing and a failure on her part that she hasn’t been able to find Sofia telepathically, even with Cerebro. Poor Hellion has been exhausting himself every other week flying around the world, hunting for her. And yet they’ve both come up short. Considering the anger and venom that went into her last two months of social media use, before she went silent, where she was promoting herself as the poster child for “Cured” Mutants, and spreading anti-mutant propaganda to millions…

EMMA: “I fear the worst may have happened to her.”

Scott puts the kibosh on that. They have to believe she’s still alive. Sofia is tough. They made her an X-man for a reason. They should just assume that her accounts going dark was her realizing what she was doing and stopping. And they taught her well: if she doesn’t want to be found, they won’t find her.

SCOTT: “But we will.”

Scott holds Emma tight.

In Apocalypse’s base, the scientists are psychically tortured. We’re introduced to the one responsible for the torture, Famine AKA Exodus, who does this with a grin on his face. He believes they were on the cusp of figuring out the solution to their problem, and they just needed a little mental push.

As one of the scientists stutters to speak, saying how he thinks he’s figured out the problem, Exodus congratulates himself for his idea, before telekinetically dragging the scientist across the room, and strangling him with his massive hand.

EXODUS: “If you have an answer, then you will tell it to Lord Apocalypse with clarity, and without delay.”

Exodus throws him down to his knees before his master. War snickers at this sight.

Apocalypse doesn’t say a word, merely prompting the scientist to continue with a deep groan. The scientist tells him that they’ve been able to adapt the Celestial tech he gave them to his purposes and that the error isn’t there. Rather, it’s the X-genes they were provided, and have not burned through. They either need a lot more weaker ones than the amount they’ve been using at a time or a couple of extremely powerful ones.

APOCOLYPSE, breathing heavily: “This will not…be an issue…”

Exodus dismisses the scientist to return to work at once. He preens himself and primps his hair as he approaches Apocalypse, praising himself over his plan’s success.

WAR, being snarky: “Oh yes. Torture. How original.”

EXODUS: “I am NOT in the mood for your attitude, War.”

WAR: “I can’t picture you EVER being in the mood.”

As War laughs and Exodus growls, Apocalypse silences them both in an instant as he slams his hands down on his armrests.

APOCALYPSE: “Many of the weak or few of the strong. I will not take chances. We will acquire both. Famine…the densest remaining population of weak Mutants is in Manhattan’s underground. Go there. War, you will bring me the x-gene I desire most.”

EXODUS: “My lord, War can clear out the rabble. Should I not handle the most important task?”

WAR: “Don’t look so upset because he trusts me more, Famine. It’s embarrassing.”

EXODUS: “Big words from the Alpha.” He bows. “I will not fail, my lord. I swear it.”

Exodus flies off.

WAR, laughing: “What a buffoon. I will get to kill him one day, won’t I?”

APOCALYPSE: “Perhaps.” He sighs. “War…this is your first assignment since completing your training. Do not disappoint me.”

War bows.

WAR: “Never, my lord.”

War walks through the remnants of the dead scientist’s head and brain that the cultists hadn’t quite cleaned up as she walks out, her boots crushing bone underneath them.

At The Grindstone, the coffee house is set up for another party. So far, only Dani and Emma are here.

EMMA: “They have all of New York to play in, and this is where our children choose to make their “spot”.”

DANI: “At least they have a spot. A Saturday night for the New Mutants was five boxes of pizza and an ASMR playlist.”

EMMA, at a loss for words: “You depress me, Danielle.”

DANI: “Feeling’s mutual.”

The doors are pushed open by TK energy and cheers are heard, as Noriko and Julian fly in, all excited, only to discover they’re the first ones here.

SURGE: “Ah, dammit.”

Dani giggles as she turns on the music. Nori is at least happy to see Dani again, another mutual feeling from Dani.

DANI: “Look at you making X-Men at 16. Makes a teacher proud.”

NORI, scratching her head: “Eh, well, not really. We keep getting told we’re still in training.”

DANI, smirking at Emma as she drinks from her flask: “Yeah, that’s just so they have an excuse to keep you away from anything too serious, I’m sure.”

JULIAN, glaring at Emma: “You mean like killer robots that depower X-Men and are then welcomed into the family because of what some loser did to them years ago? Cause I’d love to fight one of those.”

Emma rolls her eyes at them both.

Before this can go further, Laura, Cessily, Sooraya, Roxy, Brian, and Quentin all race in, having arrived together in Roxy’s new car.

ROXY: “May not mean much to you flyers, but a driver’s license is still SWEET!”

Happy reunions are had. Cessily races right into Julian’s arms to be swung around by him, as she congratulates him on making X-Men, and he tells her how she killed it in the music video.

NORIKO: “Heard you weren’t coming back.”

LAURA: “Wasn’t going to till I found out you two were being idiots.”

NORIKO, pinching Laura’s cheeks: “Aww, you were worried about u–”

Before Nori can finish, Laura has a claw at her throat. Nori instantly backs off.

LAURA: “Yes. Yes, I was.”

NORI, panting and then smiling: “Well…I’m glad you’re here.”

JULIAN, whispering and fist bumping Brian: “Hey, uh, this a “group” thing. Why’s Quentin here? I know you’re friends, but he’s the worst.”

BRIAN: “Dude doesn’t have any friends besides me and Glob. He’s not so bad once you get to know him. Give him a shot, okay?”

Julian looks at Quentin and sees the sweater-vested dork picking his ear. He sighs.

JULIAN: “Fine. The things I do for you people.”

Cessily and Roxy are dancing together when Emma asks everyone if they have any idea when the Cuckoos will be arriving. Cessily just laughs, hoping they finally got the clue that nobody wants them around.

As Brian thanks Julian and walks off, Laura turns her attention toward Hellion and approaches him. He tries to welcome her back, but she sees right through him. She knows the only thing actually on his mind.

LAURA: “No luck at all?”

Julian bitterly slams his fists together.

JULIAN: “Not one sign of her since August. Guessing you would have called ahead if you and Logan had found anything.”

Laura looks over at Quentin.

LAURA: “What do normal people do when they lose someone? Replace them and move on?”

JULIAN: “We haven’t lost anyone and we aren’t replacing anyone! We WILL find Sofia”

BEAT.

LAURA: “Maybe it’s best if we don’t.”

Julian is just confused by that.

We cut to a location unseen since season 1: the Morlock tunnels. Masque and Sunder are playing pool, Healer, and Piper are eating burgers, and Beautiful Dreamer is playing with Artie and Leech, who came down here while waiting for the school to be rebuilt, but now are having too much fun with their new friends to leave.

Callisto leans against a wall, having a drink, taking in this moment of peace. Her people all having a good time together. Marrow approaches her from behind, questioning if that’s a smile she sees on her face. Callisto shrugs. The burden of leadership is off her shoulders, and thanks to their recent arrangements with the X-Men, they no longer need to scour for resources like rats. Why shouldn’t she smile?

An alarm goes off.

CALLISTO, usual scowl restored: “Oh. That’s why.”

A familiar voice shouts at everyone not to panic. They should calmly make their way to the safe room they’ve constructed further underground.

“Whoever is here, I will protect you all.”

We pan up to reveal Storm, in her new all-leather outfit and mohawk.

From tunnels to the sky, we cut to Warren Worthington III, dressed in a business suit and flying through the air as he speaks on the phone.

WARREN, only hearing his end of the call: “Oh, come on, Betsy, you know I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m happy for you and Rachel. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t have our own fun too. Oh, yes, I do remember that bit of fun.”

Warren drops down onto his penthouse’s balcony, asking Betsy if she and Rachel would want to take a break from protecting the multiverse and grab brunch soon.

WARREN: “Ha ha. No, no I don’t have a new girlfriend.”

As Warren enters his penthouse, he’s consumed by a burst of flames. He’s only saved by instantly transforming into Archangel and shielding himself with his wings.

His attacker is revealed to be War.

WAR: “Then you won’t have anyone missing you.”

WARREN, pissed: “Betsy, I’ll call you back.”

Archangel leaps to his feet as he tosses his phone away, preparing to fight the horseman.

Back at the school, with their party over, Cessily and Roxy are getting moved into their new room, as the new living arrangements for the kids are explained. With these two now sharing a room, and Sofia gone, Sooraya is now rooming with Laura, and, by process of elimination, Noriko is now living with Megan.

ROXY: “She so much as zaps Megan during one of her fits and I’m slicing off her hair.”

Cessily laughs but tells Roxy not to worry about her friend. Nori may be…Nori, but she's an X-Man now. She HAS to be a little more cool-headed now.

Roxy isn't so sure. And anyway, if anyone was going to join the X-Men alongside Hellion, it should have been Mercury.

Cessily asks her to be serious. Wind Dancer, Hellion, and Surge were like "The Big 3" when it came to combat. Dust can keep up with them and she'll probably get a spot before graduation at this rate. But her?

CESSILY: "I didn't even make the list, Roxy. Not for combat or grades.”

As Cessily starts to well up, Roxy takes her hand. She was just trying to be sweet. She knows she doesn't care how strong she is or if she ever makes X-Men, right?

CESSILY, with a pained smile: "Yeah. I know."

Cessily’s face morphs into a sneer as she notices who’s standing in the doorway. It’s the Cuckoos.

ROXY: “Uh uh! No way. Thought we were over this, barbies. Stay away.”

PHOEBE, as the Cuckoos walk in: “We said we were sorry! Would you get over it already?”

ROXY: “You bitches brainwashed me, Esme!”

PHOEBE: “I’m Phoebe!”

ESME: “I’m Esme!”

CESSILY: “I don’t care! Get out!”

As Phoebe and Esme seethe, and Sophie tries to figure out what to say, Irma steps forward.

IRMA, telepathically: “Over break, we met some interesting Mutants. Scientists.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out some pills and vials. “Normal drugs probably can’t do anything to you two anymore. These can.”

Cessily and Roxy bristle at this, uninterested and unamused.

SOPHIE: “This is a peace offering. It will be fun.”

CELESTE: “And remember, everyone on Earth is only alive because of US.”

CESSILY: “You were so not the most important part of stopping Phoenix.”

ROXY: “Hey, you know what? I know what to do. We’ll take the drugs, you’ll leave, and then we’ll report you for dealing unknown substances on campus. Sound good?”

The Cuckoos all sneer as their eyes glow.

CUCKOOS: “No.”

The sisters telekinetically fire the pills in Irma's hand down Cessily and Roxy’s mouths.

CESSILY, gagging and already feeling the high: “You…bitches.”

The Cuckoos bounce up and down as they shut the door and down the pills themselves. This is gonna be AWESOME.

Storm flies through the Morlock tunnels, hunting for whoever triggered their alarm. Before long, she finds him.

STORM, sneering: "Exodus."

Exodus is amused and surprised to see Storm.

EXODUS: "What in the name of the lord is an Omega doing in a rancid place like this?"

STORM, lighting up with lightning: "I do as I have always done. Leading those in need who only need guidance to thrive. Protecting the vulnerable from those who'd do them harm."

Exodus laughs. This is his lucky day! His master only ordered the extermination of the Morlocks. He hasn't expected this kind of battle, but Omega against Omega, welcomes it!

Storm knows Exodus to be an evil man, a foe the X-Men have fought time and again, but the only master he's ever served was Magneto. So who is he serving now, and why do they crave pointless death?

EXODUS: "To the victor goes the spoils."

Exodus launches an energy blast that consumes the whole tunnel. Storm is able to angle her counterattack, bolts of lightning, in such a way that a path is cut for her to slip through his attack, and Exodus is blasted upward, out of the tunnels and away from the Morlocks.

Exodus, on the streets of New York, clutches his chest in pain. Storm floats up after him, and then above him.

STORM: "In the past, you defeated entire teams of X-Men. But in my exile, I have become more than the X-Men."

In Warren's apartment, Archangel stands against War.

WARREN: "That armor…Apocalypse."

War introduces herself and tells Archangel that his former master has ordered his death.

WAR: "He requested it be swift, but that's too good for a traitor like you."

Archangel shakes his head, pissed. He'd thought the old X-Men had finally put Apocalypse down for good in their last battle together.

War laughs at this.

WAR: "Lord Apocalypse cannot be killed, you fool. He is External. And the time has come for the world to recognize him as it's true–"

Warren cuts her off.

WARREN: "No! Quiet! Listen to me, I don't know who you are, if I've ever fought with you or against you, but I promise Apocalypse does not care about you. You are a means to an end for him. And whatever he's promised you, it isn't worth it."

Warren's head aches as his wings faintly murmur to him.

WAR: "Oh, Death." War draws a lightning bolt-shaped sword from her waist. "You don't know how wrong you are."

The people of New York flee as Storm vs Exodus begins in earnest. Exodus proves to be an immensely powerful telekinetic, while also showing his lack of care for innocent life, as he launches an energy attack in all directions, wanting to prevent the queen of the skies from dodging, but Storm has a trick he hasn’t seen before. She uses the energy in the air to create a forcefield. While it’s a struggle, she’s able to contain this attack.

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Yes, Storm can do this now in canon.)

Storm attempts to freeze Exodus, but he proves to be able to keep himself heated with his energy. Exodus takes to the sky. Both Omegas fly higher and higher up as they attempt to blast each other with lightning and tk energy, respectively, but both are able to dodge everything the other throws at them.

During a lull…

EXODUS, panting: “You…have grown stronger. You may have your answer!”

Exodus’ pink skin turns blue as he manically grins.

Storm is able to put together that this means he’s become a servant of Apocalypse. But that doesn’t make any sense.

EXODUS: “I would be happy to explain how I came to serve my master. And I would also be happy if you would join us. You are worthy. And I’d much prefer working with you to that brat.”

STORM, unamused: “I think not.”

Storm blasts at Exodus and he blasts back, resulting in a tense beam struggle.

As the two push to gain the edge, we hard cut back to Warren’s penthouse, where Archangel and War are dueling. War with her sword and Archangel with his razor-sharp wings battle at close range in the fastest combat seen in the series yet. They are evenly matched, but while War’s focus is purely on killing her opponent, Warren has other priorities.

WARREN: “Do you think you’re special?”

WAR: “I know I am.”

WARREN: “Wrong. That’s just how Apocalypse makes you feel. Like you’re everything. Like you’re his chosen. But you’re just his pawn!”

War sees an opening and kicks Archangel in the chest, sending him flying and crashing through the wall.

WAR: “The opinions of the weak are irrelevant.”

WARREN: “And I’d bet anything that suit of yours is whispering that on repeat.”

Archangel launches hundreds of metal talons from his wings at War. Despite War standing completely still, all of them miss.

War snickers.

Warren questions if this horseman is a telekinetic on top of being a pyrokinetic, but before he can think long, he finds himself being forcibly dragged across the air right over to War. He’s able to block her next sword swing, but only barely.

WAR: “Was this really the best Lord Apocalypse could do a few years ago? How embarrassing.”

Storm and Exodus’ beam struggle continues. They’re evenly matched. Exodus haughtily reminds Storm that he isn’t just a telekinetic but also a telepath. Storm, who’s happy to remind him of all the time she’s spent with Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, and Emma Frost, dares him to try. Like a coward, he backs down.

Storm, meanwhile, having noticed before that Exodus’ energy heats him up, drastically increases the temperature at their air level. Exodus sweats profusely and, through the heat, is unable to keep up with Storm, who’s keeping the sphere around herself perfectly cool. Exodus is blasted away.

Storm flies right after him and with Exodus stunned, she lays into him, landing punch after punch to his face. She calls down a lightning bolt directly from the heavens to send him crashing down into the ground, forming a crater.

Warren returns to shielding himself with his wings as War sets fire to his entire home.

WAR: “Behold the fate of all who oppose Lord Apocalypse! Burned to ash with nothing left behind!”

As War laughs, Warren loses his temper. He’s had enough.

Archangel flies through the flames, regenerating even as they burn him, and choke slams War into the burning wall. He screams at her that he’s just trying to help her, dammit, even though every part of him is screaming at him to go for the kill. All because of what Apocalypse did to him. He was once the X-Men’s second-in-command, but a mission gone wrong cost him everything.

WARREN: “Apocalypse found me and rebuilt me. He made me stronger than I ever dreamed I could be. But I wasn’t me anymore. I was a monster. And that’s what he’s made you too. Is that really what you want to be?”

There’s a dramatic pause.

War shouts as she propels all the flames from around the penthouse back toward her and, by extension, Archangel.

Warren screams and, as he loses his grip, War dances behind him and slices his wings off with her sword, making him scream even more.

WAR: “Apocalypse ripped off your old weak wings, didn’t he? He should find this amusing.”

The dismembered Archangel throws a punch through the agony at War, his wings taking time to regenerate, but she just catches his fist in her palm.

WAR: “You may have been worth my time if you’d been willing to go all out.” She crushes his fist, breaking every bone in it. “But your mind is weak.” War drives her sword through Archangel’s chest. “Apocalypse transformed you into Death.” War delivers a second critical blow, punching through his stomach and blasting through his back with her flames. “I transformed myself.”

War removes his sword and her arm from Archangel. The hero falls over, glassy-eyed, as he reverts back into Warren.

WAR, sheathing her sword and largely disinterested: “Any last words?”

WARREN, barely clinging to life: “The…the X-Men will save you.”

War giggles. She then burns away what’s left of Warren Worthington III. Archangel is dead.

WAR: “No. I will save them.”

Storm descends toward Exodus, once again floating above him. She orders him to surrender. If he gets up, he won’t do so again.

EXODUS: “My, that’s not the Storm I remember.” He coughs up blood. “But I do concede this battle to you, goddess. I don’t know how, but your power has surpassed my own.”

Exodus smirks. And his eyes glow red.

Storm screams as the moisture in her body is ripped away and sucked into Exodus. She tries to mitigate the effects with a forcefield around herself and a raincloud, but with her forcefield doing nothing to protect herself from Exodus, she’s too weak and pre-occupied to do anything else as Exodus blasts her with full force, shattering her forcefield and sending her flying, as he continues to absorb her moisture.

Exodus stomps his boot down on Storm’s chest, a grin spread across his face.

EXODUS: “My own power could not defeat you. But Lord Apocalypse’s conquers all.”

Exodus slams his head down on Storm’s face. She screams as something unclear happens. It seems like he may be killing her…but he doesn’t.

EXODUS, standing up straight: “You are strong, Storm. With or without what I have taken. I hope that in the new world, I will be able to return it.”

Exodus walks off. Storm tries to blast him from the ground, but nothing happens. She tries again before the reality hits her. He’s stolen her powers.

STORM: “No. Not again. Exodus!”

Exodus knocks her out with one more small blast.

EXODUS: “Rest easy, Storm. Compared to your Morlocks, you are lucky.”

Exodus dons a slasher smile as he hops back into the Morlock tunnels, pulsing with energy.

In Scott’s new office, Magneto is shouting at him for shirking his responsibilities onto him, while Emma stands to the side, filing her nails. Scott doesn’t see Erik’s problem. He’s the public face of the X-Men and Mutantkind again, but he, Emma, and KItty have been managing everything. He just thought he’d give him some work and a chance to speak to the kids.

Erik doesn’t buy it. He thinks he’s deliberately been keeping him out of play, and left him to give the speech today as a joke. He thinks Scott is resentful of losing his position.

CYCLOPS: “What if I am? You wouldn’t have been resentful if Sunspot had ever stolen Genosha from you?”

MAGNETO: “Sunspot and I see eye to eye on most matters. We do not.”

CYCLOPS: “Not wrong there.”

Emma breathes in annoyance as the two men stare each other down, and engage in their dick-measuring contest. Her eyes then widen in a panic. They need to go downstairs NOW.

Cyclops and Magneto don’t hesitate to listen to her, rushing toward the foyer. On the way, Emma also alerts Kitty and Iceman that they need them, and Laura to bring Danger. Emma also issues an alert to the student body to stay away from the foyer.

The five X-Men arrive at their destination to find Storm weakly leaning against the wall. She’s heavily bleeding, she’s shaking, and her eyes display horror.

KITTY: “Ororo!”

Kitty rushes over to her and helps her stand as Laura arrives with the temporary school doctor, Danger.

SCOTT, as Danger scans Storm: “Storm, what happened?”

STORM, shivering: “The…the Morlocks, Scott. I failed them.”

ICEMAN: “What do you mean you “failed” them?”

Storm struggles to answer, so Emma just reads her mind. Her expression becomes just as horrified.

EMMA: “Oh, Ororo. I’m so sorry.”

Everyone realizes just how bad this must be if Emma is saying that to Storm. Kitty hugs her mom.

We cut to an area of Apocalypse’s base so far unseen - his throneroom. Apocalypse weakly eats a handful of grapes from a bowl held up by one of his worshippers.

Archangel’s wings are tossed in front of him.

WAR: “I thought you’d like these more than JUST his X-gene.” War flies over to Apocalypse’s side. “Even if they aren’t your best work.”

APOCALYPSE: “My “best work” is why we are in this rush.” He stands and picks up the wings. “Thank you. And well done.”

WAR, proud of herself: “It wasn’t the hardest fight, but it was fun. Has Famine returned?”

APOCALYPSE: “Yes. The Earth has been cleansed of the scum of our gene pool. We should be ready to proceed. He also encountered and defeated Storm.”

WAR: “What?! Lucky gilipollas.”

BEAT.

APOCALYPSE: “A HA HA HA HA HA!”

WAR, crossing her arms: “What?”

APOCALYPSE, trying to stop laughing: “War…you are strong. But you are not ready to fight an Omega.”

WAR: “Of course I am!”

Her denial just makes Apocalypse laugh louder.

War huffs in frustration as she leans against Apocalypse’s chest.

WAR, being a brat: “Well you aren’t ready to fight the Witch.”

Apocalypse’s laughter softens as he tucks his hand around War’s chin.

In the X-Men’s new “Mission Room”, Cyclops, Emma, Magneto, Iceman, Kitty, and Wolverine have gathered, alongside Hellion and Surge, while Danger is taking care of Storm.

HELLION: “I don’t care how beat I ever get, don’t you ever send me to her”

SURGE: “With how often you get beat up, that could go badly. But same.”

The two question what’s going on anyway. It can’t be that bad if they’re letting them get involved.

MAGNETO: “On the contrary, students, you’re here because things couldn’t be worse.”

Cyclops tells them that Storm was attacked by a man named Exodus AKA Bennet du Paris. A Crusader from the 12th century and Omega-level Mutant, his powers were further enhanced by the immortal Mutant, Apocalypse - the X-Men’s greatest enemy. He betrayed Apocalypse after he was forced by him to kill his lover, and was sealed away until Magneto freed him years later, and brought him into his service.

Surge questions what his powers are, with Kitty telling her that he’s the most powerful telepath in the world besides the Professor, Emma, and Jean, and THE most powerful telekinetic.

Hellion, insecure, says he can’t be all that tough if he keeps being a minion. Emma puts into perspective for him that Exodus makes Hellion’s telekinesis look like her own.

SURGE, in disbelief: ‘Okay…so Storm lost?”

Magneto tells her how much worse it is than that. How she was depowered by him and, because she failed to stop him, the Morlocks were massacred.

The kids are horrified. This can’t keep happening. Why does this keep happening?!

Scott’s sorry to tell them it gets worse. Exodus isn’t acting alone. He’s working for Apocalypse again.

Magneto tells the kids they don’t really know anything about Apocalypse, other than he’s one of the oldest and most powerful Mutants in the world. Far beyond himself. He lives by a “Survival of the Fittest” philosophy and seeks not only to wipe out every last human being but all Mutants who don’t meet his standards.

CYCLOPS: “We don’t know why Exodus would ever serve him again, but whenever Apocalypse shows up, it’s with four “Horsemen”. Four generals. If we take Exodus as the standard…”

ICEMAN: “That means we’ve got five genocidal Omega-levels on our hands, and we don’t have Jean or Storm.”

There’s a pause of dread.

Emma shoots a glance at Magneto before explaining to everyone else that there’s more. Exodus put in Storm’s head what Apocalypse’s current plan is. Using X-genes he’s been collecting, including Storm’s and the Morlocks, he’s built a device that will force an X-gene to develop in every living being on Earth. Those who can adapt will become Mutants, while everyone else will instantly be killed.

EMMA: “They estimate less than 1% of humanity will survive.”

Finally, Exodus provided them with their base of operations’ location. Apocalypse wants to “speak” with herself, Cyclops, and Magneto.

EMMA: “Obviously, we aren’t going to do that, but–”

Emma is cut off as Kitty slams her phone down on the floor.

Bobby asks her what’s wrong.

KITTY: “Iceman…Cyclops…I’m so sorry.”

She was looking at the news to see if there were any clues about what other horseman may be active, and she discovered that there was a fire in a luxury apartment complex…and that Warren is dead.

Scott seethes, while spikes form around Bobby as he punches a wall.

ICEMAN, intense: “He told us where they are. Let’s get these bastards!”

Cyclops, Kitty, and Wolverine are just as ready to mobilize. The odds may be against them, but the X-Men have beaten Apocalypse before and, Storm and Jean or no Storm and Jean, they can beat him again.

There’s just one problem.

MAGNETO: “We aren’t going anywhere.”

KITTY: “The Hell are you talking about, Erik?! Are you not listening?!”

MAGNETO: “I have been, as I always am. And as leader of the X-Men, it is my decision that we do not intervene with Apocalypse’s plans.”

CYCLOPS, outraged: “I don’t know what you’re on about, but this better not be a power play over earlier.”

MAGNETO: “Of course, it isn’t. I would never act so immaturely. The immature decision would be rushing into a battle we have no hope of winning when simply doing nothing awards us a golden opportunity.”

CYCLOPS: “You cannot be serious. Now, of all times, after what they’ve done, you cannot be going back to–”

EMMA, cutting him off: “To what, Scott? Being a villain? Is that what thinking Apocalypse’s plan isn’t a poor one makes someone? Then call me evil.”

KITTY, not even surprised at this point: “Already covered.”

Iceman stretches his arm across the room and puts Magneto’s neck at icicle point. One way or another, he’s fighting an Omega today.

Magneto is unphased.

Scott asks Emma what SHE’s talking about. Emma, pressing her hand against his face, expresses her logic to him, and to everyone else. Yes, like Magneto said, if this is the caliber of horseman Apocalypse possesses, this team CANNOT win. They don’t have the power OR cohesion. And it isn’t like Sunspot or the non-demon Magik would make the difference there.

EMMA: “More importantly, this is a chance to end our fight for survival once and for all.”

As things stand, there is no guarantee that Mutants will still exist in 150 years. Where once they numbered 20 million, they’ve only now gotten back up to five million. And the threats to their survival never stop. On the other hand, there IS a guarantee that all humans currently alive will be dead in 150 years. What difference does it make if they die now vs then? The only one is that, if they perish now, it WOULD guarantee Mutantkind’s survival and allow them to inherit the Earth at long last.

MAGNETO: “This isn’t like his previous plans. No camps, no hunting, no torture, no slaves. This would be quick and done within moments. We may still need to fight Apocalypse himself after the fact should his opinions of weaker Mutants stand…”

EMMA: “...but compared to our everyday struggle, with every X-Man together, this would be child’s play.”

Scott backs away from Emma and Magneto in horror, disgusted by their words and horrified that his girlfriend would support this.

EMMA, annoyed: “Oh, please, Scott, don’t be the boyscout about this. You already rejected Xavier. You understand that assimilation is not an option.”

Wolverine finally speaks up, telling Cyclops she’ll take Magneto and Emma down on his word.

NORI: “You’re not doing anything, Laura.”

Laura turns in confusion to her friends, who are seated with sneers and crossed arms.

JULIAN: “Miss Frost is right. We’ve had our problems lately…but this makes sense.”

The music swells as everyone stares each other down and the team is split in half. Magneto, Emma, Hellion, and Surge have decided that letting billions die is the best strategy, and Cyclops, Kitty, Wolverine, and Iceman can’t believe what they’re hearing, the latter fully ready to throw the first destructive, frozen punch.

To Be Continued…

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