#put them in a dire situation so i can watch them both fret over each other

[leslieseveride]

a chenford "i'm not leaving you" would make me so much worse, yet here i am asking for it anyway.

[darkpoisonouslove]

“Left to Heritage”

Summary: A fight between her fairies and Griffin’s witches leaves Faragonda looking at the past in a desperate attempt to prevent losing someone else she cares about like the friends the war took from her. All she finds is pain, yet she can’t let go of the relationships burning her fingers with the impossible choices everyone bound by them has to make. Set after 1x05. Canon divergence.

I have been incredibly salty about the way the whole theft of the Ring of Solaria was handled on the show so you get this canon divergence in which Winx actually do the smart thing and tell Faragonda what the hell happened. How things play out from there is not necessarily better but definitely more emotional for Faragonda. Aka here is also something about the fallout between her and Griffin that was never explained on the show.

“If the ring isn’t returned, the Solarian court will issue an official demand to Cloud Tower for its retrieval.”

Bloom’s eyes had caught fire despite their aquatic shade. They’d burned like an ocean turned from water into flames and her tone had carried the assertiveness of a queen that Faragonda had only heard once before despite the numerous royal heirs Alfea had provided education to ever since she herself had been a student. So many born rulers and none had had the bearings of such natural authority, almost innate, as the Earth girl that had stumbled upon her powers by accident.

Faragonda had almost slipped into the past through the hole Bloom’s fiery stare had burned into her soul. She had to do it regardless of the searing pain of touching the edges she’d cut into herself to stop the spreading rot. She had to do it to look for more similarities, some tangible proof that she wasn’t grasping at straws to hang her hope by. It could be the universe answering her prayers with abysmal delay. Or it could be an illusion she’d trapped herself into when nothing could compare to the cruelty of the real world.

The surface of the oval mirror in her office rippled like she’d cast a stone in the stream of time and found the memory her five students shared now along with the trauma and crushing responsibility chasing royalty out there in the real world where Alfea’s walls were but a blissful fantasy of deceptive safety. The school had hardly protected its students back when she’d been one of them and things would only get more dire if she were right about the witches Cloud Tower was raising in the heart of its spiky structure that welcomed intruders to leave while they still could. It was not an empty threat.

The gloom hanging over her girls like an aura in the image in the mirror was yet more frighteningly precise proof of the truth she already knew. Stella was lying in her bed as if she’d been taken down by a plague she couldn't fight with Flora fretting over her, Musa tapping on her knees as she sat cross-legged on the floor like she was trying to hold a rhythm slipping away from her and Tecna sifting through a boatload of digital information less daunting than the emotional waves reality was rocked by.

Bloom was leaning over Stella like a guard, her fists clenched so hard that her knuckles had turned white as if the fire in her veins was trying to burn its way out of her body and eliminate the threat she’d had to succumb to. Faragonda had seen that instinctive determination right before another threat had been eliminated to take away with itself any remaining sparks of hope for the company left behind.

Flora straightened up like a flower reaching for the mercy of the light finally gracing it. “What if we tell Miss Faragonda?” she asked and just like that the grave silence was dispelled. And so was the self-absorbed focus that had swallowed Bloom to separate her from her friends. “She could help us get it back.”

“No!” Stella bolted up in bed as if to drop the reason that could save them from smashing their heads. “No one can know that I’ve lost the ring of Solaria,” her frantic voice was spilling out the worries of her heart in the trust in their friendship they’d forged with their lives and signed with their blood. “That I failed as a princess.” New tears welled in her eyes as if the soreness hadn’t bruised them with enough red already without the light of her magic to relieve the strain in them.

Faragonda would’ve wondered how the mirror did not crack from all the pain flowing from her to hit directly where her reflection would have been if the memory was not still playing like the room had witnessed it.

“You didn’t fail, Stel.” Bloom sat down on the bed, her hand on Stella’s shoulder as if to ground her concerns. Or to ground Bloom’s impulses in the warmth of her friend instead of that of the flames no doubt licking at her opened fists. “You were ready to defend it with your life.”

Faragonda had deduced that much even if they’d tried to steer her attention away from the specifics. Bloom had only relayed that Stella had been kidnapped to demonstrate the gravity of the situation but they’d tried to beat around the bush about any other details except for the fact that the witches had walked out of that confrontation with the ring of Solaria. And her girls had walked away with a Stella who was alive and intact, and eaten through by guilt she’d had ingrained in her along with her royal bearings and the responsibility for the ring on her finger to have its absence crush her more than its weight on her shoulders had.

“Bloom’s right,” the sound wave of Musa’s vehemence could have shattered the windows. Perhaps it had even carried the subconscious intention to rid her of the sounds stuck inside her – cries that were years old and other fresh ones from a few minutes ago. “You did everything you could. It was those witches that are guilty for everything,” she slammed her fists down on her knees to no other result than hitting herself as she kept her tantrum away from her magic.

“It was their third attempt at the ring that we know of,” Bloom’s words had everyone else nodding in support of her reassurance but it only had Faragonda pressing her palm against her mouth to keep it all in. Even if she couldn't stop herself from asking herself why she didn’t know what dangers were lurking for her girls out there. “They’ve been targeting you since Gardenia.” That much would have been a safe guess even for her despite the limited amount of information she’d had but she hadn’t wanted to make it before Bloom had confirmed it for her. It said too much about the determined claim both her fairies and Griffin’s witches had over the royal heirloom.

“It’s a powerful magical object,” Stella made the fact sound like the most biased opinion Faragonda had ever heard. Or maybe it was just the purpose of her words that made it so. “They’re not the first ones to want it. But they are the first ones to get it.” It wasn’t just her who was biased anymore, Faragonda’s own convictions rising from the ashes in her lungs almost like a phoenix with the only exception that they’d never died. “And it happened on my watch,” Stella cried out. “I’m the only Solarian royal that failed to protect it.” She buried her face in her hands, the lack of the ring on her finger startling not with her incompetence but with the competence of those who currently had it.

The low spirits of her girls were left in place of how much they’d put into the confrontation to be that drained from both energy and faith and they’d still lost regardless. She may have been one to be blinded by endless optimism when younger but after being sucked into a war and spat out with its teeth marks all over you, you learned to take pure power into consideration. And her girls had had a lot of determination to draw from which left their defeat sending familiar chills down her spine at the thought of the enemy.

Tecna put away the gadget she’d been tinkering with and the discomfort of the emotionality they were all drowning in to lend the others the logic they desperately needed, making Faragonda give the image in the mirror a proud smile despite her mixed feelings on its existence forced by necessity. “Getting the ring back is a priority over anything else, even covertness. And Miss Faragonda is our best bet on that,” she rationalized, the words reverberating through the rest like they shared a mind on top of the heartfelt bond they’d formed so quickly. “We can insist on it being done discreetly,” Tecna continued, finding her sensitivity as well to fit into the collective flawlessly, the way they gravitated towards each other pulling even Faragonda closer by the strings in her own heart it had touched. “After all, I doubt Miss Griffin will be thrilled with the imprint this crime will leave on Cloud Tower if it becomes public knowledge. It’s in everyone’s interest to keep this quiet.”

Faragonda could only hope every mentioned party would be as reasonable as Tecna had accounted for. She’d had the same belief in her friendship once that Tecna was putting into logic but she couldn’t bet on it anymore with all the walls in the way. It had come to that for her when certainty had been pulled out of her reach along with the warm hand that had held it and all she could do was hang on to the prospect that if she was right, Bloom would be able to count on her friends more than she could on her heritage, that there would be no walls Bloom would be left outside of again.

“Tecna’s right,” Musa pushed herself off the floor as if with a sonic blast but resolve was the only magic that lent her the speed and coordination to rise to her feet in one swift, graceful motion worthy of the dancer that the fairy of music was. “We can’t just sit around now that we’re all back together,” her hands were balled into fists as if to hold on to the presence of her friends once she didn’t need them to support herself. “We have to act. Unless we want to find out what they want with the ring the hard way.”

Stella nodded, a small smile barely tugging the corners of her lips upwards to meet the tears still rolling down her face. The inevitable sniffle that followed was enough to shake her whole body and disintegrate both the smile and the confidence.

Flora was quick to grab a tissue from the nearby box and offer it to Stella as she sat down on the bed next to her. ��It will be okay, sweetie. You’ll see,” she put her hands on Stella’s shoulders to have Bloom let go of her so that Flora could draw her into her soothing softness while Stella bunched up the tissue in her fist instead of using it.

“I hope you’re right, Flora,” Stella whispered, turning to her in an attempt to nestle her tear-stained face into the crook of Flora’s neck and hide her weakness into the warmth of the nature fairy even if it weren’t the light of her own magic. “I can’t disappoint my father after he entrusted me the ring.” A sob shook them both alike as Flora held her, only gripping tighter at her despite the crease carved into her forehead and the glassiness of her eyes as they tried to mirror Stella’s and shed their water that only Flora’s will to put her friend’s comfort before her own held back.

Bloom caught Stella’s hand that was hanging limply at her side instead of having wrapped itself around Flora in search of more support. There was no need for her fingers to prob for it, however, as Bloom laced hers through them gently but firmly – in perfect contrast with the flames burning in her gaze with no cautiousness to rein them in, only fierce protectiveness to feed them.

The heat was tangible both through space and time to explain why Stella had flinched at Bloom’s warning about making the issue official and taking it to the appropriate authorities. Not only that, it was also familiar.

Faragonda had been defended with the same vehement warmth to the point of almost becoming collateral of it but despite the burning coldness of the hole left behind once it’d been gone, she had no definitive proof of Bloom’s origins. The ferocious protectiveness she’d known had come from two people, one of which undoubtedly had nothing to do with the fire in Bloom’s veins or the flaming color of her hair. It was the determined commitment of true friendship she’d seen in the girl and nothing more. Not without solid proof that the ring could give. She had to get it before someone got the confirmation of her suspicions first. If she was right, she had more duty towards Bloom than just that of a headmistress and Bloom had more burden to shoulder than the weak grip of Stella’s hand on hers in the absence of the ring.

She cut off the magical flow turning the mirror into a pool of memories instead of the solid reflective surface that it was and focused her magic into overcoming space this time. It wasn’t the spell or the physical distance she had to conquer–she had regular practice with that as she was still a constant presence on the Red Fountain invitation list for any and all events–but the emotional chasm that had opened between her and Griffin. It was just a few years old and it was already as deep as their friendship had ran in their souls.

A gasp almost tore from her at the weightlessness overwhelming her senses when she knew it would be gone faster than it had appeared. And indeed, the negative energy of Cloud Tower clung to her aura long before her atoms assembled themselves together again to leave her standing in Griffin’s office.

It hadn’t changed one bit in the days she hadn’t seen it–that had to be over one thousand at this point and more–and carried the spirit of the same frighteningly elegant professionalism and academic pursuit as well as overwhelming flair for the dramatic and inclination towards honoring history’s scariest and most threatening moments. The pointy edges and horned skulls were only the props for the powerful dark spells stored in the tomes lining the shelves that almost drew her eye to them in search of something that didn’t belong there. That would have swallowed her attention if not for the witch whose presence commanded every bit of the space – from the interior to the magic flowing in the walls through the veins of Cloud Tower.

Griffin hadn’t changed either, familiarity streaming from her almost deceptively. “Someone had better be dying,” she emphasized each word to compensate for the cold her gaze wasn’t piling on Faragonda as it remained on the book opened in front of her. Faragonda couldn't even tell if it was work or passion that she’d interrupted from the unnatural stillness clinging to the witch as she refused to move a muscle for her. “If not,” dramatic pause right on cue, “it will be your life on the line.” A ball of violet power formed in Griffin’s hand, the seriousness of the threat in no way undermined by the lack of attention to back it up.

“It’s really urgent,” Faragonda pushed the sounds through her teeth, almost choking on the shredded mass that came out as justification for her presence instead of the animated greeting that had once been the norm. She barely dared breathe in the room looming over her and threatening to bury her alive, her arms sticking to her sides to avoid alerting Griffin further. The witch had no desire to take her presence, much less the inconvenient news she’d deduced Faragonda was bearing.

“You should hope so.” The magic in her palm slowly faded, each change in the paling shade like a drop of water slipping from Faragonda to never come back and only assault her ears with the passing seconds. As if Griffin was giving her the time to adjust and begin on her squirming to fit the witch’s agenda. “Otherwise, you’ve wasted so much energy coming here for nothing,” Griffin looked up at last, slamming her book closed just as she locked eyes with Faragonda in a cheap intimidating technique that may have made her flinch back at their student days but those were long buried and it couldn't get even as far as the sound wave of it did.

There was an invisible force squeezing her heart like her ribs were made of foam and couldn't protect a diamond, not to mention something so fragile. It wouldn't be past Griffin to use one of the relatively harmless hexes–though, anything would be harmless compared to the forbidden magic Faragonda was on the lookout for–on which she’d just been refreshing her memory but she’d made it known after their fallout she wouldn't throw away her magic on revenge. The hexes could have been for an advanced class or for the personal vendettas on her list that Faragonda hadn’t been added to after Griffin had crossed off their friendship. She’d ended all contact between them, running school-related business through Saladin as if she’d erased from her mind any trace of the private language only the two of them spoke.

No curse could top that. A curse would require her to put some feelings in the casting, at the very least, to take an interest in the fact that Faragonda still existed so that she could make her life hell. Instead, she was letting her poison all her days on her own like she’d never seen her wings in the mirror and every attempt to be the witch she’d never believed she could be was blowing up in her face. If only she could blame everything that stood between them on the inherent divide between fairies and witches.

Faragonda squared her shoulders looking at Griffin through the emptiness between them. Their personal drama had waited so long it could take a backseat to the responsibility she had towards her girls. “My students have reported to me that your witches–Icy, Darcy and Stormy–threatened the life of Stella, the princess of Solaria, to steal her ring from her.” She didn’t pause before forcing the names off her tongue when she knew the last time they’d cracked against Griffin’s ears it had cracked their friendship but she had to borrow some air from the witch’s domain to continue. Not too much, though, lest Griffin snatched the word away and never found the benevolence to give it back. “They want the ring to be returned or they’ll take it up to the Solarian court and you’ll be hearing from king Radius.”

Griffin rose from her chair, her aura casting a shadow over the whole room as a mantle of darkness fell over the golden of her eyes to suffocate it much the same way it gripped at Faragonda’s throat to throw her in a memory that should have died long before all the other death had plowed into them. “Are you threatening me?” her voice was quick to mirror the intent she’d read into the words to draw a clear line between them and leave them on opposing sides once more as if they hadn’t found home in each other after they’d lost it all.

“Griffin, please,” Faragonda raised her hands – an old habit that had gotten her beaten down multiple times during the war when it still left her words to use on the witch. It had been words that had gotten between them, and not the numerous spells they’d thrown each other’s way voluntarily and not at all. “This is not a threat.” A pulse of Griffin’s magic stung her eyes nearly to tears with the reminder of the witch’s distrustful heart. “I’m just trying to save us all the trouble that this whole situation will cause if it blows up.” Coming clean had to be easy when you didn’t have a hidden agenda–at least not a malicious one–but one wrong word would paint her a bigger villain than anyone Griffin had had to deal with in the past. The notion was preposterous after it had been her winx that’d kept Griffin huddled in the depths of Cloud Tower and turning herself into a vessel for dark spells.

“Of course, you are,” the tension rolled off Griffin’s frame like the taunt rolled off her tongue but she’d take it if it meant Griffin trusted her “insufferable goodness” as she’d once put it, all in good faith. There was no joke now, only open distaste that was still preferable to unrestrained hostility. “Always so considerate. Getting worked up over a trinket,” Griffin flaunted the mockery in her face in a challenge Faragonda wouldn't normally take but Griffin’s own reputation as headmistress could be on the line.

“This is a royal artifact, Griffin,” she forced her voice to stay level–an ounce of asperity would leave the space between them even more slippery than the frozen surface of a dead planet–despite Griffin’s attempts to get a raise out of her as she rolled her eyes in purposeful ignorance, pushing all the buttons she could still find without having to look. It was in her heart she’d stored the knowledge and Faragonda had the chance to reach in it if she’d just keep it open long enough. “You know this is serious.” A split second’s hesitation. Just enough to take a page out of Griffin’s book. “You know how much efforts Oritel threw into hiding the Book-”

“Fine,” Griffin’s tone cut her off like a knife she was aiming at her throat next.

She could hate her for digging up the ghosts haunting the shared home of their past only to spill into the present and link them together with the tears trembling on the surface of Griffin’s voice to mirror her own. As long as she didn’t let the effortless connection they’d had–still had between them if only Griffin would let it out of the dark basement she’d locked it in to rot away without light and oxygen–join them. Faragonda was already right there with her, the echo of her own words burning her tongue and down her throat even in the airless emptiness filling her after the memory of their lost friends had sucked everything else out of her.

“You’ll have the ring on your desk in the next few minutes,” Griffin crossed her arms, almost hugging herself as if to make sure Faragonda wouldn't give into the impulse to wrap her in her own embrace. As if she didn’t know it would only pull her closer with a might she could hardly resist while the cold was still in her veins spreading with every beat of her heart that she couldn't share with the royal pair of Domino. “If there isn’t anything else,” there was only everything else, lingering in the air around them and making it heavy to draw in as it fell towards the floor to escape the struggle of their lungs, “let yourself out. It’s too late for noisy visits.” Too late for her.

There went her chance to see the friend she hadn’t lost in the war only to push away. Common sense dictated she had to hope there wouldn't be another one like this, for the sake of the universe and not just the girl for whom affection was already flaming in her heart upon recognition. She couldn't let this moment slip through her fingers like the life she’d shared with the half of the Company now residing in unknown locations had. At least have some good come out of everything the three young witches had done.

"Griffin-”

The sigh Griffin released in an abrupt bout of frustration carried the rest of the thought away to leave the accompanying feelings clawing at her ribcage to get out. “Business related, Faragonda,” the witch stressed either word before gliding over her name with indifference. “This was not a slumber party invitation,” her irritation spiked again to pierce through Faragonda’s stomach and spill her guts out in a violent display that would have made the ancient evil Griffin had initially picked over her cackle with abandon at her misfortune.

"Business related...” They had too much business together for Griffin to just brush her off like she was the dust on a tome of spells the witch had stolen when she’d still been with them . “Your students have kidnapped one of mine and threatened to kill her to steal a royal artifact. That is grounds for expulsion.” It was enough to get them convicted if she could convince Stella to testify and let her friends do so as well but she’d promised she hadn’t come to threaten Griffin so she had to steer clear of her students as well. Griffin never did do well when cornered so the most she could afford was to implore her to listen to reason.

"No,” Griffin’s instant stubbornness echoed off the walls to crash down on her and beat her into the floor. A little more force and it would bury her right there under the roof of the powerful organism Cloud Tower was that Griffin had employed to protect the three witches when she’d let them into the school.

"Come on, Griffin!” she urged, her pleading almost pathetic to her own ears with how little it moved the witch, almost enough to convince her it was their affiliations exactly that were getting between them instead of their own hearts. “You should be able to see by now that they are following into the footsteps of their predecessors.” A shudder ran through her just at the thought of how far that road went. Right to the frozen surface of Domino. “You know what the ring can do.”

"It doesn’t matter,” Griffin’s eyes bore into hers, the seriousness of her dismissal drilling a hole into Faragonda’s mind to let out over her muscles the overflowing impulse to grab Griffin and shake her. They’d lost everything while putting all their efforts into preventing just that. They couldn't sit idly by and watch it happen again, only this time letting it unfold without interfering. “It’s not going to lead them to anything but ghosts.” Griffin’s look changed, accusation almost covering the agony underneath just like she was barely breathing through the losses Faragonda had forced on her once again after all attempts at burying them had been in vain.

Faragonda drew in a shaky breath before jumping off the ledge without the certainty of Griffin catching her. “I’m not sure about that.” She hesitated for a moment, her fingers curling at her sides for her short nails to dig into her palms when Griffin’s heart visibly jumped into her throat.

There was no going back as Griffin forced herself to swallow it along with all the questions bubbling from inside her to make her burst and Faragonda forced her magic to flow between her palms and form an orb of light that started shifting until it accommodated the image of Bloom with every little shape and vivid color. Griffin had to see it as it was so that she could tell her whether it was reality or illusion.

Griffin’s gaze was fixed on the image as the colors bled in until they reached their full vibrancy to have her eyes lighting up with another million questions exploding in them upon recognition. “Who’s that?” her voice came out as if in slow motion while she was trying to catch her mind from speeding away from her with conclusions.

"That’s Bloom,” Faragonda said only. For someone who wanted an objective opinion, she sure was twisting her words to steer them into the desired direction. Not that it mattered what she’d say when she could count on Griffin’s brutal honesty.

"Who is she? Where does she come from?” Griffin fired out at her as she rounded her desk to get a closer look, already having jumped on track with Faragonda’s suspicions.

"She’s from Earth.” Chasing down the words was much easier once Griffin was taking them from her eagerly. Faragonda could practically hear the logical deductions weaving themselves together in her mind and the emotions boiling in her heart like Griffin had allowed it instead of fiercely protecting her privacy after the last time Faragonda hadn’t liked what she’d read in her. It wasn’t about the fight between them now but about a promise they’d made together and had been forced to give up on if they’d wanted to keep hearing each other’s breaths. Maybe it could bring them back together if it was brought to life like the little baby in the center of it that they hadn’t gotten to hold in their arms.

"There have been no fairies on Earth for centuries,” Griffin’s eyes were on hers again, checking for a lie only to scorch her with their insistent shine once she didn’t find one. Almost like she was looking to see the explanation inside Faragonda’s mind as if they hadn’t reached the same theory despite the deafening cries of the past echoing around them without their permission.

"She’s sixteen, has fire powers and the spirit to match the physical resemblance,” Faragonda dared lay a little more of her soul out there along with the hope threading itself in it again. If Griffin was seeing it as well, then she wasn’t-

"And she dropped right on your doorstep?” The arch of Griffin’s brow was like a slap in the face as it was followed by a scornful smile. “It should have tipped you off instantly how easy this is. Your wishful thinking is blinding you. That relentless optimism never did lend you a clear grasp on things.” The mocking tone might have been scraping against the walls of her heart from inside to leave abrasions behind but the cold in Griffin’s eyes was so unbearable with the reflection of her own loss it was that she had to look away.

Her hands dropped at her sides, the image of Bloom long lost along with her focus that was now carried away by the merciless winds lashing over the once welcoming surface of the most beautiful planet in the magical dimension. “It made me stick with you,” she barely found the strength to whisper through the ice pushing at the inside of her eyes to smother every memory of fire and warmth she’d ever had. She’d known better back then and it’d brought Griffin back to her. Why couldn't the same happen with Bloom? Why couldn't the universe finally answer her passionate prayers and give them back at least a part of what they’d lost on the battlefield?

Griffin’s derisive chuckle shattered the hair-thin glass she’d been hiding behind in her run from reality. “Thick as thieves we are,” despite the spiteful resolve it was wrapped in, her voice was raw like it’d been flayed alive and left to bleed out by a careless cut of a knife and Griffin had always been one for perfection and precision. She couldn’t have been the one to cause this to herself no matter how careful Faragonda lied to herself she always was. “I’ll get you the ring but do me a favor and don’t drag me into your blind pursuit of will-o-wisps.” Griffin turned her back on her and walked back to her chair, every click of her heels against the floor crushing yet another part of Faragonda’s broken heart like it was snow.

"What if it’s her?” she pushed even though it was low to attack Griffin in back. She couldn’t lose her completely when she’d come in pursuit of finding – Bloom and the ring, and Griffin and their friendship.

"What if she’s an impostor?” Griffin countered, in no hurry to face her as she was confident she could lead that battle even blindly but Faragonda could do that. They’d always been counterparts, reflections of each other. Until she’d broken away with the storm in her eyes. “What if she’s working with the Trix?” Griffin’s logic had her blood run cold. It could never happen. The blood in their veins would never allow such alliance of hell. “They never would have gotten the ring if they’d had to face the intuitive protectiveness of the Dragon Fire,” Griffin forced the cursed words out of her mouth with less effort than Faragonda would need to get out of the trap that she’d walked right into when her eyes had seen whatever she’d wanted them to and her heart had operated according to the same logic. “She’s probably a fake they’ve infiltrated among your girls. How did she even get to Alfea?”

Griffin’s gaze was boring into her again in her impatience to dig out the answer herself if she could and bury Faragonda in its place, get it over with. It was starting to lick a little bit too much like flames at her tender skin, just like Griffin’s magic had been protecting her on par with the Dragon Fire, and had her mind tossing between the tangible past out of reach and the threatening future she was speeding towards.

Her students. She couldn't let them pay for a lapse in her judgment. She was no longer a reject transmagic graduate of Alfea who wasn’t even sure she had a best friend to lose. She was the headmistress and had some of the responsibilities her friends had died fulfilling. She had young girls to take care of and she couldn't shake the image of Bloom holding Stella’s hand to let her have at least a little of the safety Faragonda hadn’t secured for her. For either one of them. She had to celebrate if she was wrong about the fate resting on Bloom’s shoulders but that was exactly why she couldn't afford to ignore the possibility of being right, as insignificant as it was.

"Stella brought her,” she made herself return to the present stopping on the way to pick up the question Griffin had asked her. “She accidentally discovered her powers when she tried to help her against an ogre and some goblins.” A coincidence for those who believed in them. But after they’d all been pawns in a vicious game that had been going on for centuries, it would be foolish to think there was anything not driven by a reason... or a person.

"Oh, yes. The coincidence of the century,” Griffin deadpanned, reading her thoughts in a backwards fashion. They’d never been so out of sync before. “This is a blatant set up and you’re naively falling for it.” No wonder when Griffin didn’t want to give in even an inch still firmly grounded behind her desk and seeing to it that she didn’t move either. In fact, her look would be enough to glue Faragonda to the floor, no spell, no magic. “This kind of gullibility flew when we were students but after everything you’ve been through, you should know better. You’re awfully trusting for a war veteran and a headmistress with the responsibility for hundreds of lives.” Her teeth left marks in Faragonda’s heart even though it was her own lip Griffin almost bit into in her vehemence.

She could have it all, swallow it one piece at a time, if it meant they could be together in their signature complementary existence. Griffin was the spice to Faragonda’s sugar making it hard to eat too much to keep your teeth from rotting. She’d been the mindfulness to her optimism, the logic to her faith even back when they’d both been witches and their dynamic hadn’t failed them throughout the rest of the way, Griffin keeping them grounded while Faragonda had carried them, hopeful, into the future. “I’ll keep an eye on her-”

"And please, don’t inform me,” Griffin was fighting her on every step now, her words piercing Faragonda’s wings like they hadn’t even done back when both of them had still been getting used to the sight and feel of them. She’d accepted the change in her once with the whole history of the magical dimension standing between them and she’d done it again after the war had ripped out not just the warmth of their friends, but also the pieces of themselves touched by it. She’d held her cold body to get shaken by the same shivers only to back away from the possible return of the small flame they’d mourned like Faragonda was coming to burn her and everything she’d built out of the remains of her life for the crimes she’d committed before.

"You have to keep an eye on the Trix as well.” It wasn’t her that was threatening everything they’d suffered for, everything they’d built out of the ashes of their hope. And it wasn’t Bloom either. She couldn't take away the desperation choking them every time they tried to speak the names seared into their hearts but they could speak hers with the faith she’d need to survive the monstrous responsibility of her heritage. “You’re also responsible for hundreds of lives as headmistress.” It wasn’t just the two of them anymore and they had people to take care of besides themselves... or each other.

"At least I’ve taken the time to look at them before jumping to conclusions,” Griffin muttered through the unwillingness to bring to life the past she wouldn't have had without Faragonda’s interference as she’d stood up for her even with the pile of bodies under Griffin’s feet, even with the hole in Griffin’s heart that wasn’t hers to fill. “Expelling them will only push them further into any ambitions of greatness they have,” Griffin continued, giving voice to logic instead to hide behind like they didn’t tell each other everything. Like they wouldn't see the truth regardless of the words spoken. Like their souls were not one whole.

"That’s hardly possible,” Faragonda’s own voice rose in turn as it looked to reach her friend. “You’ve read their admission letters.” Rule them all.An agenda they’d heard before coupled with powers they’ve seen in action to barely survive them. What more did Griffin need to recognize the impending threat?

"Unfortunately, I also had the bad judgment not to keep them confidential,” Griffin squeezed at her heart as if to crush it even if her hands were gripping at her desk like she was trying to hold herself upright.

"You had concerns just like I did,” Faragonda would drag Griffin, kicking and screaming, back to the memory of standing together if she had to but she wouldn’t let them fall apart over three little witches that weren’t even the real deal, only offspring left behind like weeds. “You’re the one who’s set off on some misguided mission to save their souls.” She bit her tongue as her fists unclenched–the marks her short nails had left in her palms oozed blood–and her hands flew up to clamp over her mouth but it was too late.

"Your facade is crumbling, Miss Sunshine Positivity and Acceptance,” Griffin growled at her like a guard dog that had caught a trespasser red-handed.

"Griffin,” her tongue probed around with each letter curling in anticipation of the witch pouncing only to stiffen once the familiar name hung in the air waiting to drop like a bomb on them if she didn’t secure it to the words that would follow. Faragonda swallowed and licked her lips as she lowered her hands back at her sides lest she accidentally brushed the trigger. “It’s not your personal failure you couldn’t save them from the three monsters’ ways.” A chance. They’d agreed to give them a chance that the three witches had thrown away long before the attempted murder they’d almost covered and were still getting away with. Griffin had shrugged off their total lack of morality and humanity as witch-typical bullying even when they’d caused permanent damage to fairies and witches alike in her attempts to protect them but she had to open her eyes to the fact that there was no one to protect them from and everyone to protect from them. “It has never been.” They were the ones that hadn’t given Griffin the chance she’d wanted to help them by following their ancestors’ plan too closely to be unfamiliar with it.

Griffin’s shoulders slackened, leaving her tall frame sagging like she would fall back into her chair when Faragonda’s next breath breezed over her. “I was beyond saving as well when you stepped in but that didn’t stop you.” The insistent burn of Griffin’s eyes frantically touching every corner of her soul ran through her in higher voltage than Griffin’s refusal to look at her had been back when Faragonda had saved her life with the portal that had brought them on the same side. Griffin may have had a hard time finding a place in the home Faragonda had had waiting for her inside herself but now her fingers were frozen at her desk after their failure to even find the doorknob. “What’s different now?”

Everything.

Faragonda shook her head to throw the word away before it could fall from her mouth. They were still the same friends, the same parts of one whole... even when they were broken apart. That at least Griffin had already experienced for herself to believe it was possible. “You saved yourself, Griffin.” Had she failed to mirror Griffin’s own light back at her the same way she’d given her hers, too caught up in their duality of counterparts, their forbidden friendship of a witch and a fairy? “You’d made the right choice. It was what brought you to me.” She’d left a part of herself behind to find her way to Faragonda while her students were looking to take everything that didn’t belong to them and the ring slipping from one finger to another so easily was only the start. “And what brings me here now is a matter of interrealm security they’ve dragged us into.”

Griffin rolled her eyes as if to counter the words rolling off Faragonda’s tongue and keep them from reaching her. “I’ll fix that,” she strengthened her shoulders again to take the burden that wasn’t hers to bear along with the guilt for leaving anything of her soul with the Coven to corrupt but it hadn’t been her fault. Icy, Darcy and Stormy had never been touched by their predecessors–thanks to the sacrifice that had left Bloom and Stella their unsuspecting targets–yet they were still following the same agenda of their own volition, cut from the very same cloth as the witches they were descended from like everything else those monsters had left behind in their inability to create anything but destruction.

"What if you can’t?” Helplessness had strapped her hands to her sides, yet the question slapped Griffin in the face moving her backwards and further away from Faragonda to the opposite of her intentions. She’d just wanted to dig her out of the past now that they could witness a future that had been stolen from them.

Griffin raised her chin like she did in defiance and not to stare her down, though Faragonda was still way down below her to have Griffin’s words dropping on her head like bricks to crack her skull open rather than wall her up outside Griffin’s heart. “You should worry about yourself. Save whatever’s left of you if there’s anything at all from the old Faragonda.” It was the sharpness of Griffin’s words that cut her loose from the strings moving her around for her lungs to draw in a gasp of air. It’d been her Griffin had been looking for in the past rather than the piece of herself forever encased in ice. “She would never advocate for me to turn my back on three young girls.” The contempt was unlike anything Griffin had ever regarded her with. Not even when she’d accused her of betraying her by turning into a fairy.

"I still trust you, Griffin,” she stepped forward only to bite her tongue and stop dead in her tracks at the sight of Griffin’s demonstrative retreat. She was still herself... even if she’d failed to give the reassurance her best friend needed that she hadn’t turned against her in her pursuit to rid them of every trace of the witches Griffin had left in a show of heart she’d made her question.

"I don’t trust you,” Griffin put them on opposite sides again drawing a clear line between them that she couldn’t cross as easily as the distance between Alfea and Cloud Tower. No fairy dust could fix what she’d broken with the cold inside her. “I don’t know you,” Griffin’s voice spilled out in frozen waves that would make Faragonda’s lungs burst if she opened her mouth to risk swallowing them. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to run this midnight errand you’ve sent me on.”

She dematerialized without sparing another glance at Faragonda to leave her alone in the emptiness of the office like they’d never been there together. The room only seemed to broaden around her to leave her hopeless in the middle like a star that was flickering out in the vast void swallowing its dying light. Cloud Tower remained asleep to her light magic instead of closing in its dark energy on her to suffocate her or chase her away – whichever came first. Griffin had left her unsupervised in her office like she wasn’t enough of a traitor to be kicked out, let alone hunted for vengeance like Griffin herself had been when they’d been brought back together.

She wasn’t coming back and Faragonda had to return to her own office, to her own school and to her own life. A task she almost failed amidst the panic engulfing her consciousness as if to consume it once her body dissolved in her magic and left just her soul behind to wander aimlessly without the anchor of a home. It was just the sight of flames burning in green and blue eyes alike that grounded her back in her rightful position of leadership – a legacy she’d taken over for her friends to rest in peace after they’d done their duty at the price of an inhuman sacrifice.

The ring was waiting on her desk even though it had to have been just a few minutes. She’d lost track of time in the tomb of cold loneliness she’d found herself in when she’d been left on her own.

She picked it up, the weight of it almost non-existent in her palm to contrast with the ton of emotion it had brought out in just a few short hours only for the trouble to be resolved so quickly through cooperation. Maybe Griffin was right. Maybe the terror that had been nestled inside her ever since that day on Domino when her soul had only remained grounded in her body by the warmth of Griffin’s hand in hers had resided in her too long to hollow her out and fill her with paranoia. Maybe she was judging unjustly after the unfair hand the universe had dealt them all on that battlefield.

Or maybe they were being made pawns again to be shoved on the front of another war. She didn’t have Griffin’s warmth anymore–only the burning hurt in her gaze–but she had her students–maybe even the girl she’d sworn to protect with her life–to take care of. She’d have to let Griffin look after herself this time and do the same when the witch refused to be her support and let her be hers.

It was too ironic to be left to the heritage of fairies and witches fighting each other just like their students. Only, that was not what left Griffin unable to look at her. And she had to hope against all logic that there wasn’t another legacy their students were fated to uphold, that it was just the everlasting argument between fairies and witches that was the only thing connecting them all. But she couldn't. Her and Griffin’s friendship was too powerful to be cut in half by an ancient yet superficial divide. And the Dragon Fire was too strong to be extinguished by the evil of three witches.

The ring had found Bloom in an endless universe to bring her to her friends and her heritage. All that was left was to give it back to them and hope it’d acted like a lucky charm rather than a jinx. That and believe in their friendship after the one she’d had left after the unimaginable hatred the universe had been subjected to had given in to the fight they should have ended on Domino instead of inherited in place of the lost crowns Bloom would never get to see.

[nyxi-styx]

No Air

Fandom: Sanders Sides Ship: M/M, Prinxiety, AKA: Virgil/Roman Words: 2,300 Rating: E for everyone Warnings: hanahaki, body horror? maybe?, blood, difficulty breathing, angst but like... softly. Gently. Tags: unrequited love, but not really, fluff, happy ending, very Princely Roman but also like insecure Roman, Logan and Patton are fatherly and heckin’ concerned Characters: Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, and very briefly, Thomas Sanders A/N: This is my first ever (and maybe only but idk) Sanders Sides fanfic. I hope you all enjoy it. I usually don’t like the hanahaki trope but thanks to a fic by @xpouii, I had an idea that I just needed to get out. So it goes without saying that this was entirely new territory to me both in the hanahaki aspect and the Sanders Sides aspect. Please enjoy! :)

The moment they’d sunk back into the mindscape after discussing the hidden dark sides of Disney films with Thomas, Virgil’s chest felt tight. This wasn’t the typical fearful, anxious tightness he was accustomed to. No, now he was wheezing. Like he couldn’t take in enough air. He sat down on his bed and took a few slow, calculated breaths. It helped some, but it didn’t go away entirely. What was wrong with him? The odd condition seemed to continue to plague Virgil with increasing intensity over the next several months. Each time Thomas summoned him, he kept his words few and his answers brief to avoid gasping in front of him and alerting him to his condition. It wasn’t possible for him to develop severe asthma… right? No. And it wasn’t some standard respiratory illness. Thomas was fine. He felt like he was going crazy. Maybe that was the lack of oxygen to his brain. It seemed that every time Virgil interacted with Roman directly it became harder to breathe. Figures. Of course that pompous idiot is going to be the death of me. The next time Thomas had gathered the four of them for a video, Roman had actually complimented him in front of everyone. Virgil coughed violently and felt something in his mouth. His eyes widened as he closed his lips firmly. It wasn’t bile. It wasn’t saliva. What was it? It filled his mouth and throat, drying both out entirely. Unfortunately, he’d drawn the attention of the other four. “Virge? You okay, buddy,” Thomas asked gently. Virgil nodded and gave a thumbs up gesture before turning his back to the group. He spit whatever was in his mouth into his hand, seeing for the first time that it was a cluster of vibrant red flower petals. He gave a panicked wheeze and immediately sank back into the mindscape away from everyone else. What the hell?! I have to be going crazy. This doesn’t just happen! Flower petals?! 

Out of concern, Patton had followed Virgil into the mindscape. “You sure you’re okay there, kiddo?” The father figure reached out and touched Virgil’s shoulder, causing the other to abruptly jerk away from him. It took a moment for Virgil to be able to form the words, the illness making his mouth dry. “Yes,” he snapped at last. “I… I said I’m fine!” Startled, but no less concerned, Patton relented and backed off, returning to Thomas and the others where he was still needed. The flower petals dissolved in Virgil’s hand and he curled up on his bed, pulling his hoodie up as a comfort measure as he continued to struggle to breathe. __

Roman complimented him again and, as if the coughing and flower petals weren’t bad enough, there came a sharp pain. Like hundreds of little needles poking his lungs from the inside out. Virgil was convinced he was going to die. And this was a miserable way to go. How could he even die? He was part of Thomas. Thomas was alive and well… and so were the others. But here he was… miserable every day. The pain and discomfort he was undergoing was clearly visible to everyone else despite his best efforts to hide it. They never pushed his boundaries, however, allowing him space to approach them if he desired.

“Logan, I’m concerned about Virgil,” Patton confided, catching up with the other in the mindscape when neither Roman nor Virgil could hear them. 

“Of course you are,” Logan confirmed. “We all are. There is clearly something troubling at hand and either due to his nature or whatever the issue is, he’s hiding his discomfort away from the rest of us. The problem is that without him being willing to open up- unless we are able to see the symptoms for ourselves- we have no way of knowing what it is or how to help him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Patton fretted, wringing his hands. “I don’t like it. Can we go check on him? Please. I… I know it may be a long shot. But. He needs our help.” Together, they phased through into Virgil’s room, both expecting to hear a snarky and sharp-tongued “Don’t either of you know how to knock?” but instead they heard more aggressive coughing and arrived just in time to watch Virgil stare in horror at the blood-soaked flower petals in his cupped hands. 

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Patton exclaimed, causing Virgil to look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “Oh, kiddo,” he tutted sadly. “I think you’ve got yourself a love sickness. Unrequited love sickness.”

“Wh-what?”

“Specifically, Hanahaki disease,” Logan explained. “It’s a disease caused by unrequited love and pining. Typically, it begins when the patient realizes their affections for another and believes it to be unrequited or one-sided. As it goes unaddressed and untreated, it naturally progresses and worsens. Luckily, you’re not in the final stages yet, though you are in a dire situation. There is hope. The color and/or type of petal can be an indicator of the object of your affections: either their favorite flower or their favorite color. May I?” He approached Virgil tentatively and picked up one of the flower petals, wiping away the blood to confirm that the petal itself was red and not merely stained that way from the blood. “Given that there is blood, I’d guess your lungs and heart may be filled with thorns. These are definitely rose petals, though I think the color alone tells us everything we need to know. I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to Roman about this at all?”

Virgil ignored Patton’s soft, wistful gasp and aggressively shook his head. “No,” he wheezed. “No and please… don’t…” He paused to cough. “...don’t tell him. I… I think it’s a… mistake.” He coughed again, letting petals fall to the floor, rosebuds tumbling after them. “We.... don’t get along. It’s… it can’t be.” “You know sometimes when we like someone, we don’t know how to express that. So… we cover up our emotions by… calling them nicknames or… teasing them. It’s not the nicest or healthiest way to express fondness, but it’s very normal,” Patton explained calmly. “So what your… well, anxiety… might be telling you is the two of you not getting along and Roman not liking you, might really just be a normal case of… playground pigtail-pulling.”

“Apt, Patton. Thank you,” Logan complimented. “We can’t force you to do anything, Virgil, and we certainly don’t want to make you emotionally uncomfortable on top of your physical pain and discomfort, but I do believe you should think it over before it’s too late. If Roman returns your feelings, you can be cured. The other options are to die- you can’t- or suffer for the rest of time. And Thomas will notice something is wrong. You can’t perform your basic function and protect him if you’re entirely incapacitated. We will leave you with that and allow you your privacy.” “You know where we are if you need us, Virgil,” Patton assured him. “And… well, we care about you, darn it! So please… do what’s best for yourself.”

No. No, it just couldn’t be the truth. They had to be mistaken. He didn’t love Roman. And even if he did, Roman most certainly didn’t love him back. There would be no cure for this. He would just have to get used to the feeling of sharp thorns digging into his heart and pressing against the insides of his lungs. He curled up and turned The Nightmare Before Christmas on his TV. It was always a comfort. He pulled his hood up, wheezing as he stifled another cough and tried to just focus on the movie. As always, the movie was comforting… until Sally was wandering the town and the lyrics ‘and does he notice/my feelings for him/when will he see/how much he means to me/I think it’s not to be’ caused poor Virgil’s heart to thump painfully against the vine of thorns in his chest. He wheezed again in panic and coughed up more rosebuds, petals and blood. He’d heard this song scores of times. Why now did it seem so significant? 

‘And will we ever/end up together/no I think not/it’s never to become/for I am not the one…’ Virgil’s chest tightened again and he couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down his cheeks, carrying black eye shadow with them. Fuck. They were right. Of course, they’re right. He really was in love with Roman. Against his better judgement, against the odds of everything they’d been through together… his heart belonged to the over-the-top, dramatic, pompous… wonderful, bright, creative, uncertain, dazzling… prince.

Virgil drew his legs up to his chest and put his forehead on his knees, letting the tears fall freely. He felt hopeless. He was going to be stuck this way forever. Once again, he coughed violently. This time, however, he had to manually remove the large obstruction protruding from his mouth. A full rose blossom. This must have been what Logan said was ‘the final stages’. His breaths became shallower. He constantly felt like he was suffocating, breathing through layers of fabric. And mostly, that was true, thought there was nothing over his face. His own feelings were suffocating him, manifesting in painful roses.

Moving became agony within another day, so Virgil elected to lie down and suffer in relative peace. Each breath was labor and the carpet quickly became littered with discarded rose blossoms and buds that he plucked from his mouth with shaking hands and allowed to tumble to the floor. Eventually, he gave up pulling them away. Another always replaced it within moments.

Patton had been stewing ever since they left Virgil after finding out about his condition. He could no longer sit idly by while someone he cared about was suffering. Virgil could be upset all he wanted, but it was the right thing to do. He had to tell Roman. He was certain the prince returned Virgil’s affections anyway. Determined, he set off to tell Roman, taking a very reluctant Logan along with him to explain. “Roman! You need to save Virgil. He’s got the honey-hockey disease and you’re the only one who can cure him!” “Um, that’s Hanahaki, Patton,” Logan corrected gently, only to be met with a confused look from Roman. He sighed, cleared his throat, drew a deep breath, and explained yet again. 

“So, what you’re saying is that our grumpy, frumpy little rain cloud is cursed and can only be saved by the kiss of true love from a prince?!” Roman’s face lit up exuberantly at the idea. He was made for this. “A worthy quest. It will be done!”

“Well, not- not really,” Logan de-escalated while Patton shouted, “Exactly!” Logan sighed again, adjusting his glasses with a light air of annoyance. “Your overall idea is not incorrect, Roman, however, it has to be true and genuine romantic love. Unfortunately, friendship is not enough to save him.”

“Worry not,” Roman assured them. “I will save him! With true love’s first kiss!” Valiantly, he strode away from Patton and Logan to go and rescue Virgil; however, as soon as they were out of sight, his knightly facade faded and his insecurity had a vice grip around his stomach. Why? He knew already that Virgil loved him. That much was obvious from the illness Logan and Patton told him of. What if he rejects me anyway? What if he would rather suffer? What if he doesn’t believe me?! He took a moment to himself. He had to put all of that aside. It wasn’t about him. This was bigger than him. Virgil needed his help, consequences be damned. 

Roman took a deep breath and pushed on, entering Virgil’s room to find him lying on his back, a large rose blossom grotesquely blooming from his forced open mouth. What a pitiful state to find him in: barely breathing at all, cheeks streaked black from tears redistributing his makeup. The prince approached carefully, reaching deep to find his nerve again. “Virgil,” he called quietly before crouching beside him. As soon as Virgil opened his eyes and made eye contact with Roman, he looked away again, clearly embarrassed at his current state and the fact that Patton had obviously told Roman what was happening. 

Undeterred, Roman took Virgil’s hand gently between both of his own. “Oh… my darling raindrop. Such a silly thing to go and get ill over. Of course… of course, I love you too. You are charming in your own strange way. You bring a smile to my face more often than you believe and we make a harmonious and powerful team when needed.” Virgil looked at Roman again, his eyes full of unspoken emotion. Roman smiled at him and softly sang, “For it is plain/as anyone can see... We’re simply meant to be.” He held out the notes on the last two words with a flourish- he couldn’t help himself- and reached up with his free hand, delicately pulling the rose from Virgil’s mouth. He tossed it to the floor and used his thumb to wipe away a trail of blood on the other’s chin. He leaned in and caught Virgil’s lips with his own, softly but earnestly. He kissed him with all of the longing and hidden affection of months past, feeling like he had a lot to make up for. It was his own fault, clearly, that Virgil ended up in such a poorly state to begin with.

The moment Roman pulled away, smiling bright as the sun, Virgil could breathe openly and clearly for the first time in months. The pain of the thorns vanished, no more petals, no more flowers. Only love.

[kurtty-drabbles]

Life is wonderful au (Godzilla)

N/A: So, to finally close to this story, the X-men finally will find out what Kitty is. Ok, I have no idea what Ultron truly is. I know he´s a "smart" machine and is a murderous machine, but, his origins is something that makes me scratch my head...who would make an evil design for a good machine that should be "good"? Hank Pym.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @discordsworld @bamfoftheundead

The idea of working with the Avengers is something thought as a joke or as the last resort, after all, both teams don´t see eye to eye with each other to the point even suggest working together is seen as a joke, at best.

However, thanks to Ant-Man aka Hank Pym was "inspired" as he did speak in a frenetic fashion that quoting his own words here. "God spoke to me. God show me the way. We can make America Great again and Chaos is the way" and Hank starts chuckling madly at this.

The Avengers are short in number, but, even their arrogance couldn´t blind as the situation is indeed very dire. Ultron is a machine that plans to destroy everything as Tony Stark quote looking at his own team. There´s only him, Cap America, Cap Marvel and only that as Thor did give up on Earth, of course, with a political reason for that "Asgard needs me as Pheonix has returned and we need to show respect for the deity"

And this makes the X-men and Avengers team up? Not really. At first, the X-men try to defeat Ultron alone, as the threat is getting bigger and bigger(literally, Ultron is bigger as a skyscraper) and the X-men have no choice to fight. Sadly, the battle wasn´t as favourable as they imagined.

"So, Summers, you too lost. Are you ready to accept help now?" Tony asked a tad bit smug from someone that didn´t manage to do much. Cyclops grith his teeth and close the call. Tony Stark and his holograms are damn annoying.

Psylocke as the rest of the team watches as Ultron is walking among the ocean of San Francisco. As the creature continues his path many pairs of eyes turns to the leader and Cyclops sighs. "We have no choice. I´ll ask for her help" Cyclops sighs and is trying to not show fear.

"I can sense your fear, Scott." Betsy let her telekinetic sword as she gives a soft expression, something that is easier to do when she´s around Scott. "I´m afraid too, but, if we have no option..."

"The Avengers aren´t strong to stop or prevent Ultron to do anything and Hank Pym is babbling insanities...as you did notice, Hank Pym´s mind is gone, so, really, the Avengers are useless to us"

"And this is not a biased assumption of your part?" Hank asked somewhat joking as the mutant and doctor knows very well how Scott and Cap America´s relationship can go sourer quickly if the two are put in the same room.

____________________________________________________________________

Kitty Pryde is happy to see the beach, ignoring the situation is quite easy for the woman, as the X-men explain the situation. Now, Kitty hovers above the sands as she watches Ultron still walking, you see, Ultron is powerful and dangerous, but, walking in the water was not a wise decision, but, maybe the machine is too prideful.

"So, he did again" this part was lower enough that only Kitty could hear herself, but, on the second part is loud enough to all X-men to know what´s going to happen. "I can´t help you" she speaks and as Quire, who was silent at this point, was about to speak something Kitty smiles in an uncanny fashion. "I could, of course, but, I can´t...Ultron is listening and worshipping the Chaos itself, professional courtesy here, plus, as Ultron grow conscious...he vows to me to not commit genocide"

No one questioned this. No one has the guts to do this. However, Cyclops and Storm try a new approach.

"Ultron could hurt Wanda, we know you´re very closer of her" and is not an empty option, Ultron clearly dislike the Avengers and Wanda is still an Avenger, sort of.

"You think I would let anything happened to her?" the question is losing the friendliness and the two senior now have a different strategy.

"Of course not, but, in that case," Cyclops begins as Strom makes the final blow. "do you know someone or something that could take Ultron down?"

Now, the mood is light as Kitty has a solution. "Uhm, I wouldn´t be intervening directly...and yes, I do. I can call my son to help" and a bright smile spread on her face now.

"Your son?"

_______________________________________________________________________________

Kitty still hovering in the air asked kindly to Storm if she could control tsunamis and to be honest this is not the strangest question Kitty has ever made to Ororo.

"Well, I think I did this only once" she explains recalling the time where she did stop a tsunami. She looks at Beast as he seems to be thinking on the same day.

"They call you Goddess of Weather for a reason, Roro" Hank explained joyfully and Ororo let her lips form a smile. In times where she has to control tsunamis, a nice smile can change everything.

"Should I ask why you need someone to control tsunamis?" Hank asked as Ororo, living the rule doesn´t make questions to Kitty, flies and is concentrating her power to do this act.

"Oh sure, you see, when Godzilla enters in the physical plane he causes tsunamis, the silly goose" Kitty speaks with her azzure eyes now. No one knows how to react to this information.

Godzilla?!

Godzilla is her son?!

"Oh my god! What´s the state of your vagina? Lady, how are you still alive?" Quire asked rather rudely and Kitty´s head twists 180 degrees. Is a tad similar to that famous scene in "Exorcist" except now they know what she truly is...and a demon would be much more prefered.

Quire´s mouth is being sewed by invisible hands. "Rude" is what Kitty supposedly said, however, her mouth is shut...Ok, remember the golden rule: Don´t make questions.

______________________________________________________________________________

And as Quire is being ignored as his plight is his own. Godzilla´s head can be seen and for that each X-men (senior and young) is present. "Is this serious? Godzilla?!" someone asked.

Jubilee and Rouge are present and now as the charade is over. Jubilee only shurgs as she said comfortably "Zaorva asked me to not tell" and Rogue nods the same. "Well, glad no one here is doubting their eyes here because if anyone thought she was a fae still after that...you would be the dumbest person on the Galaxy" Jubilee states.

"Well, there´s Thanos" Rogue counterattack and no one denies this. Meanwhile, the team is sort wishing they did get a fae.

______________________________________________________________________

Godzilla form is finally revealed and the battle begins. Ultron vs Godzilla. Bets are made because why not? Seriously, why not bet on the Godzilla? Storm´s power is being a great help as she´s controlling the tsunamis that would hit the city.

The X-men also notice, still ignoring Quire, as Kitty is speaking in an ancient language, in fact, this language is above and beyond anything a human can understand.

Rogue and Jubilee seem to get the gist of her lines. And offer a summary.

"Godzilla is a good boy," Jubilee said.

"And...eat the remains, my son, eat the remains of your fallen enemy" Rogue concludes.

And in the end, Godzilla is victorious, and as expected, Godzilla is eating Ultron. Which is a scene no one will ever forget.

"Well, the battle is over. Oh, that´s was fun to chaos, but, Scott" Kitty spoke now letting her feet touch the sand as Ororo manages to calm the water as Godzilla is returning to the ocean(no one will forget how the monster being miles and miles away from Kitty heard her and nods dutifully) "fret not, the Avengers won´t be a problem ever again...Chaos has plans for them"

"...Am I better not question what this means?"

"Well, humans and sanity is very relative, but, yeah...I´d not think you´ll like Chaos´ methods to deal with the Avengers"

"Then I won´t ask"

Now, finally, the X-men know what Kitty Pryde is. Rogue won the bet on the fight, but, no one won the bet on what Kitty Pryde is. The outer god of life.

[rickssugarplum]

Rickmas Cheer

My first Rick x reader fanfic so sorry beforehand if it sucks. I want to thank @kitten-wrath for her encouraging advice. Hope this is alright! ❤

(Rick C-137 x Reader) SFW, Slight swearing, Fluff

You’re nervous about visiting family for the holidays and Rick shows up for a surprise.

You were pacing back and forth, inside your living room, surrounded by elegantly wrapped presents. They were a pretty but grueling reminder to why you were quietly muttering to yourself in anticipation and you hated to admit; fear. 

Like always with any holiday, you were afraid of visiting your family. While you loved them, you hated the aspects of a holiday gathering. The lack of personal space, the constant questions about your life that felt like an interrogation, and god forbid, a family member bringing up politics. Receiving gifts and enjoying the Christmas atmosphere had become irrelevant in your mind. You were too scared to go. But you knew deep down, you would feel guilty for not at least making an appearance. You just wish you could calm down before you would have to leave and face the music.

You were taken out of your thoughts as a whirring sound of a bright green portal emerging and a familiar old scientist with blue hair stepped out of the portal into your living room.

“Heyyyy, Happy Houuurp-lidays,” The man said as the portal closed.

The last thing you needed was to deal with Rick with an experiment or whatever else he may have needed.

“I can’t help you right now, Rick. I have to get ready.” You said, frustrated.

“For what?” He questioned.

“I have to visit my family for Christmas....” You say quietly.

Rick looked slightly empathetic at you. He knew you tend to fret before any social occasion, knowing that it wasn’t a real dire situation. But to you, it was.

“Oh. Well uhh, I j-just dropped by to give you this...”

From his lab coat, you watched as he took out a small box, wrapped in a red bow. He handed it to you, and you were taken aback. You hadn’t even entertained the thought that Rick would bother giving you anything. Now in your hands, you untied the bow and opened the box revealing an illuminating gold crystal connected to a beautiful gold chain, making you gasp in awe. The crystal was so bright, it was almost blinding. As you took it out and inspected it more, you noticed the crystal was surrounded by glistening stars, giving its brightening effect.

“It’s uhhh, a xaculan crystal,” Rick explained. “They-they’re like a magnet to hydrogen and helium, hence the stars...I got it from a planet that’s full of different crystals and...this is the rarest one in the galaxy.” 

It left you speechless. Your eyes started to well up with tears as you looked in Rick’s eyes that sparkled from the stars on the gift he had given you. 

Given you

The smartest man in the universe and intergalactic criminal, Rick Sanchez, gave this literally astronomical gift, to you. So many thoughts were running through your head, but one was outweighing all the others. Why?

“I-I-I’m no good with this sentimental bullshit. I think the holidays are just another excuse to spend money on stupid shit that no one really needs for relatives you barely see anyway...”

You awkwardly looked around the room, back at the many packaged gifts you were going to give. Rick continued. 

“But, I wanted you t-t-to have this because... even if you don’t know it, you light up every room you walk in...”

That was all it took for the tears to flow down your face. You were the happiest you’ve ever been in a long time, the first real joy you felt since the season started. He put his hands on each side of your face as he gave you a gentle smile. 

“Merry Christmas, babe.” He hushed softly, stroking your cheeks to wipe away your tears.

You fell into him as you started full on sobbing. He wrapped your arms around you and gently stroked your hair. Your arms were around him, your head was to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you continued to cry. It had been a stressful few weeks for you, and he seemed to catch on to that. He just held you for as long as you needed, for which you were grateful. After what felt like forever, you took some deep breaths to calm yourself and wiped away the remainder of your tears. You finally let go, feeling better. Rick then took the necklace and opened the clasp and presented it in both hands.

“May I?” he finally asked you.

You smiled and turned around, your back to him. A slight shiver went up your spine when you felt his long fingers brush your hair away and draped the chain over your neck. When the necklace was secure, he flipped your hair back in place and turned you back to face him. He was taking a good look at you.

“It looks amazing on you.” He stated, lips slightly curled. He then stepped forward and gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead. You giggled at the sweet gesture.

“Soooo, when do you have to meet up with them?” 

You had forgotten about the worries of your inevitable gathering with your family, thanks to Rick. No matter what would happen, your Christmas was already made.

“In a few more hours,” You said meekly.

“Well, d-d-do you want me to stay for a bit? I can uhh bring over some cookies Beth made from home later, if you want...” Rick suggested.

A warm smile spread across your face. With all the hustle and bustle of preparing for this day, you hadn’t really had anyone to talk to for awhile so, you liked the idea of Rick keeping you company.

“That would be really nice.” You told him.

“Alright,” he said, taking your hand and leading you to your couch. When you both sat down, he wrapped an arm around you and let you lean on his shoulder. You sighed as you relaxed into him, feeling the most peace you felt in awhile. Looking down at your new necklace, your heart skipped a beat at the thought someone cared so much to give you such a gift. You broke the brief silence.

“Hey Rick?”

“Yeah?”

You reached up and softly kissed his cheek. You smiled up at him, finally feeling content.

“Thank you. And Merry Christmas.”

 ❤

[shardclan]

Pistis and Azricai had grown accustomed to the turbulence of Rebis' temperament. As the former had put it in her ever-polite words, she was a young lady of many moods. One of those very moods now found the young queen twisting her frills and fretting with her jewels while she struggled to find a suitable outfit. It wasn't new behavior. It was a bit more frantic than usual.

Rubranova bore it less gracefully than either of them. Probably because Rebis kept distractedly hooking clothes onto her armor.  

"You've done opening ceremonies three times now," she reminded her queen with loving but strained patience of a tired mother. "Is there something special about the upcoming Gala?"

Rebis' shoulders jumped and her frills wilted flat against her head. "W-why do you ask?"

"Because the cold has helped significantly with your occasional timeslips, and yet you've revisited that same gown 4 times now."

"I...I just think it might look nice."

"With all due respect, my lady... It's a bit colorful for the Gala, isn't it?"

Rebis clutched the gown closer. The abundantly fluffy interior was the expected white but the outside glittered like a fire opal in candle light. Even the buttons were dark amber droplets rich as maple syrup.

"It's the first festival of the new cycle," she said meekly. "Our first cycle without Telos. And the first with Horizon's Landing in place."

"And the first since her Majesty re-named us Analemma," said Azricai. "It makes sense she wishes to hold herself to a special standard for the Gala."

"I suppose that's true," Rubranova said without sentiment. "The snowflakes will be rejoicing, won't they? It's colder than ever."

"Yes... the first Gala since the winds changed too..." Rebis sank to the edge of her chair and rubbed absently at the fabric still clutched in her hands. "Even for them, I'm sure it'll be hard to celebrate on an empty stomach."

Rubranova winced. She started to apologize, but the Lady Judge's glare threatened to flay her alive for any more poorly thought out responses, and even Pistis’ constant smile seemed filled with daggers.

The change in the direction of the Vortex had made a lukewarm summer and a bitter winter for the Sunbeam Ruins. Both Telos and Rebis had seen it coming and had the foresight to try and plan for the inevitability of famine, but it was not a simple task. The change had come during the crucial early summer months and taken a massive toll on the harvests, both farmed and wild. There was only so much that could be preserved.

The cold had stilled the unsettled basin of the Sea of a Thousand currents, so Gethsemene had returned to her ship. Caress had secured a trade route through the Tangled Wood to the calm northern shores off the Driftwood Drag and the edges of the southern Boneyard. But winter was proving gaunt in other places and they were not the only western clan looking to buy food. Local prices were high, prices abroad even higher.

Stellaria and Saber, while sympathetic to the food situation, were tight-fisted with the clan's funds. The astrals had chosen the dead of winter to manifest, and the funds for their bounties could not be re-appropriated without a dire emergency. It was more than pay for a job;it was pay for pain, suffering, endangerment, and quite possibly loss of life that they had caused. If they wanted to have as few enemies as possible by the time things were over, they had to be ready to pay.

House Betelgeuse, once distinct for how rarely its inhabitants used glamours, was now filled with smaller, more energy efficient shifts. Individual hunts and foraging expeditions once taken on merely to sate finicky cravings were rapidly becoming a matter of survival. Competition for food was high, and so were tensions with the beastclans of the Summerlands who had previously been peaceable.

"I made you uncomfortable," said Rebis, with a brittle laugh. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Rubranova and Azricai said reflexively.

Rebis' answer was just as automatic. "I'm trying."

Rubranova shifted, and cleared her throat. "So uhm... Why that gown?"

"Huh? Oh--well... I had asked Penitence how to celebrate the Gala last eon, but I think Equinox noticed I didn't like his answer."

She laughed again more softly, and rubbed self-consciously at her short curls. "She told me that cherishing warmth when you're lucky enough to find it is part of what is means to grow up in the cold. It's how they go on. That sounded a lot better than trying to appeal to stoicism and perseverance given the circumstances."

"I just thought the clan could use a warmer type of Gala..." 

”So you want you wear that one?” asked Pistis. 

Rebis blushed, and pushed it into Pistis’ hands. "No, I guess this is more hot than warm; I should try something more subdued. We only have a few snowflakes, I’d hate to be presenting in what looks like counter-element garb."

“That’s very prudent. But I believe I can have this made in another color scheme and I think I know just the one to use. I will have Laleh deliver it to you when it’s ready, if it pleases you.”

The two skydancers watched their queen depart with a smile, even though Rubranova immediately said a little too much once they’d left Pistis’ wardrobe parlor. 

"You're the kind that makes the really cute wife, huh..."

"What does that mean? What does that have to do with anything?! Gods forbid, is Nayvadius rubbing off on you?!"

"Hardly. I didn't say it with the intention to embarrass you."

Azricai stared up at Pistis from her comfortable seat. The long-time spa owner was as unreadable as Azricai had ever been herself--she just did it with a smile on her face. 

“You have something to say?” she prompted. 

“You felt regret,” Pistis answered easily, hanging up all the outfits that had failed to impress Rebis. “When she mentioned Equinox.”

“You have something to say about Rebis?”

Pistis laughed in her subdued, good-natured way. Being around other skydancers could be difficult at times, but they had known each other so long that even such childish avoidance was part of their communication. 

“She reminds me of the Opportunist.”

“Appropriate, he was mostly fae. But unfortunately he never made too much of himself. He never grew sure of himself.”

“And the Economist never grew softer. If she’d only had 3 eons, Telos would have still been struggling with grief and rage. She has time, let her take it.”

The reality that Azricai had never fretted over Telos hovered just on the edge of Pistis’ words, at the edge of what she might or might not be saying. 

“Will she be a strong queen?” Azricai asked. 

“Not like Telos. But in her own way, probably.” 

She smiled at the fabric, as she thought on the colors she would give it. “A kind queen.”

[parlerenfleurs]

To reiterate: this carefree, supremely self-confident Wei WuXian, who watched Wen Ning run away after a few praises and only wondered if his own handsomeness scared the boy away then immediately forgot about it, was so worried over someone else's pain, and that he might have contributed to it, that he, contrary to his usual image, fretted for three days straight about it, and actually changed his behaviour afterwards.

And he does have a lot of emotional intelligence, as evidenced by *gestures to the whole of the text*, but he doesn't entertain fools' emotions. He also doesn't easily think he's to blame for someone else's emotional response (see: others' foolishness). But he respects Lan WangJi, and his situation is dire, so even if he very wisely thinks "Oh, his situation is very bad right now so of course my usual behaviour was a little bit much, better tone it down", I think this line indicates he wasn't able to put the situation behind him afterwards as he usually would. He had the rational explanation, the rational course of action, but he also felt something. Remorse, worry, guilt, perhaps uneasiness because he couldn't comfort Lan WangJi (he didn't know how and also Lan WangJi didn't let him try (poor boys, it was such a mess)).

It is his default state to pay attention to Lan WangJi, and to try and crack this alluring, entertaining nut. But for perhaps the first time in his life he feels he has toyed too much. He also doesn't know how to handle someone with such a character - he can always tease and bully and talk Jiang Cheng into feeling better, he can act cute with Jiang YanLi, but these methods don't work on Lan WangJi (again, Lan WangJi just won't let him).

His care and worry have no outlet. He must have felt both guilty and powerless during these three days. Perhaps that was even the foundation of his attitude towards Lan WangJi in the following years. He let go of the idea of getting that close to Lan WangJi, to get him to be his friend, a little bit. He internalized that Lan WangJi wanted some emotional distance between them.

I think the next time they see each other is after Wei WuXian gets out of the Burial Mound. Notoriously, he's the one to be harsh and distant to Lan WangJi during that scene. But putting aside the fact that he was half-mad then with the aftermath of several, very recent traumatic events, perhaps he felt that he was also only following a line already drawn by Lan WangJi himself in that cave.

While during their time apart Lan WangJi was finally mellowing towards Wei WuXian, Wei WuXian was instead hardening for the first time.

Truly unfortunate timing all around in that first life.

It's not specified what Wei WuXian feels or thinks precisely about Lan WangJi being harsh with him and just generally unwell in the Xuanwu caves, only that he thinks that Lan WangJi "must be stressed as hell" and that getting bitten is basically his fault for being annoying and he should "give him some space".

And so he gives him space, for three days, not bothering him, after which he is said to "act like nothing had happened", but be still careful not to tease Lan WangJi.

During these three days, Lan WangJi manages to restore his strength and heal his injuries with rest and meditation, and you, as the reader, kinda assume Wei WuXian has done the same, since they then decide to take advantage of this moment when their energy is at its peak (before it declines with lack of food) to fight.

But what do we learn after they've killed the Xuanwu of slaughter and Wei WuXian's state has worsened?

Several days ago, Wei WuXian had tossed all the crushed medicinal herbs in the perfume sachet onto Lan WangJi's leg. He'd only wiped down his own burn from the branding iron and hadn't rested well over the past few days.

(Bolding mine)

In other words, while Lan WangJi did manage to restore his calm and rest efficiently, Wei WuXian was actually affected by what transpired between them (either too worried for Lan WangJi, or worried he had indeed been only a nuisance to him all along, most probably both), and, despite his strong cultivation and tremendous constitution, couldn't rest properly and heal.