#just tired of seeing so many sibling tags on AO3

[salmon-sushi-monster]

People don’t seem to realize that found family tropes are meant to be deconstructing traditional family units. There doesn’t need to be assigned parental figures or sibling relationships or anything like that. In fact if you assign traditional familial roles to characters in a found family I find it quite insulting. Just because one person is older than another and seem to be more responsible doesn’t mean they are their parent. Just because two people bicker all the time doesn’t mean they are siblings. On this note I find it baffling that the TOH fandom tends to label most teen relationships as siblings (e.g. Luz & Hunter, the Hexsquad, Luz & Collector). The essence of the found family trope is that people don’t have to change to fit in. They can be family just by being classmates, friends, or a bunch of misfits. They don’t have to be siblings. Also not all friendships are found families. Just because people support each other and are friendly doesn’t mean they are a big happy family. You can argue that Luz, Eda and King are a found family but Luz and the Collector for example are never meant to be siblings or found family.

[partywithoutsmiling]

do you have favourites aus or fics within the fandom?

Hello!

When it comes to AUs I am naturally more biased towards my own XD I don't have all the corners of Tumblr explored, so all my favourites are ones in the general sense (as in, I don't know their original creator)

I always like the ones where John Dory comes back to take care for Branch; another fun one is when it explores a different brother being captured by Velvet and Veneer (or even Poppy); Branch getting adopted by a different tribe is another fun one too!

I've seen AUs like Brotherhood!AU, Borrower!AU and Cult!Branch AU thrown around in the Trolls tag, but to be honest I had troubles finding more details in one coherent post, and all of them seem rather... dark? XD Tbh I am not really a fan of AUs where the Brozone bros come up as a villains or villain-adjacent pff

I definitelly have some fic favourites rn, though I read so many and several I didn't even bookmarked- but I will share the ones I like the most! (Some fics, while having a good idea and trying their best are kinda lacking in the execution, so I don't include those)

All of them are on AO3, so, in no particular order:,

No Strings Attached by Spritzy (Completed) Spritzy is fairly active Trolls fics writer, and I'd consider them a good one, so you will see their name again XD This fic is more a collection of oneshots, about whatever honestly; it's a mix of mostly World Tour related stuff

Fluffy Love by Spritzy (Completed) Again, sort of collection of oneshots, but hardcore Broppy XD The premise being that the Pop Trolls act more... wild? And have both fur, paws and tails (something I really enjoy myself pf) Spritzy seems to be adding to this fic sometimes, as it strikes their fancy, so it's always a pleasant surprise to see it pop up in my updated bookmarks!

Elapse by Dulltoned (Completed) A tiny fic that is about the Brozone brothers trying to coexist together and heal from their breakup XD it goes with various levels of success, and Branch is very much not coping pff

It Runs In The Family by Localamblogus (Completed) In addition to Floyd, Branch gets captured by Velvet and Veneer as well (JD at first tried to come up with ways to solve Floyd's capture on his own and Velvet got too tired of waiting and thus tried to lure in another brother with a fake letter) Looking for Branch, JD finally arrives in Pop Village- naturally, Poppy enlists herself to help, and is not impressed by the elder Brozone brothers as the adventure goes on XD

You Are Half Of Me Now by Localamblogus (Completed) Now THIS fic is probably my top favourite XD Set during the time where Creek betrayed Poppy and the rest of the Snack Pack, an attempt at escape fails spectacularly, causing Chef to notice Branch's lack of colours; now sepparated from the rest, even after the other trolls escape with Bridget's help, Poppy is determined to leave no troll behind. Includes fledgling Groppy/Broppy feels, and Cooper is Poppy's little adopted brother and the sibling feels are so real (A+ honestly), and Creek gets what he deserves XD Can't recommend this one enough.

Eldest and Youngest by TheMiraculousMat (Main Fic Completed) A collection, a classic 'JD returns to care for Branch'; a good execution of the concept and entertaining read, though I am now reading another fic (ongoing) that is able to execute this AU even better XD Still, I do recommend reading this one!

Clocks (Home Where I Wanted to Go) by Espionages (Incomplete) Another 'Branch Gets Captured' fic, but this time it's just poor him all alone in Velvet and Veneer's grasp; naturally, Poppy gets very concerned- and when a letter adressed to a Troll named 'Floyd' arrives, she makes it her business to find the recipient- and in the process finds out where Branch has gone. The fic itself sits on 17 chapters out of 18, and havent been updated for a month XD a shame, but here's hoping the final chapter will eventually get posted, cant do nothing but cross our fingers!

Breathe Again by Blade_That_Was_Broken (Incomplete) Possibly the only Human AU that you will see on this list (as I am not that big of a fan of those- it's hard for me to read a 'mundane' retelling with the characters, as they seem to lose most of their magical whimsy when people do that) but this is perhaps one AU that I am very invested into (it does help the writer is really excellent, and you will see more of their work on this list as well) The premise is that JD had been kicked out of the house by his parents when he was 18, and fought hard and legal battle to get his brothers in his custody. It is more complicated than that naturally, but this is the start, and the family feels are real- especially with baby Branch, who JD had no idea existed until a moment ago XD It currently sits at 6 chapters out of planned 8, and is being a part of a series, so hopefully more content for this AU will be coming!

I'm Still Here by Blade_That_Was_Broken (Main Fics Complete) A chunky 4-part fic series, where JD returns to get baby Branch after a brief stint in the Neverglades, and then takes him into the wilderness with him, figuring he can keep him more safe than if he stayed in the Troll Tree. Of course, tragedy strucks, and suddenly older and grey Branch appears in the new Troll Village, without his brother. I will leave it at that, but it's basically retelling of the Troll series with this little twist in narrative!

Smoke and Starlight by Blade_That_Was_Broken (Complete) Branch still deals with that nasty little voice in his head that is convinced all his brothers will leave him, but that doesn't stop him about inquiring about his parents, and JD is his best bet. This fic explores more about the brothers relationships and more about John Dory and his life in the past 20 years- it is very Brozone friendly fic and the family feels are of the charts, I definitelly recommend!

I'll Never Fall, Unless it's You I'm Falling For by Dinoo_Saur (Complete?) A series of oneshots, at this time only two of them, about fledgling Groppy/Broppy. I assume the writer will add to it eventually, once they feel inspired, but even those two that are here are good read!

Shattered Pieces by Icedarsha (Incomplete) Aftermath of TBT and the brothers are *baaad* at this whole brother thing XD really kinda fumbling all around, but we love them for it. The fic currently sits at 15 chapters, and haven't been updated since April 20th 2024, so we will see where the writer plans to take us

Everything Stays (Right Where You Left It) by Venusperia (Incomplete) Poor Poppy has been taken by Velvet and Veneer and she is NOT having a good time at all; in the meantime, Branch returns to his manic grey self, as he is forced to realize that he might have to try and find his brothers as the only way to shatter a diamond is Perfect Family Harmony- and sets out to do so, with Barb as his best buddy for the ride (and perhaps his handler, as Branch is just a trigger away from jumping his brothers' throats) This fic currently sits at 15 chapters, last updated April 22nd 2024- I feel kinda impatient for this one as Poppy is really having a shitty time, to the point she doesnt even fight to keep her optimism up, and Branch is just spiralling

I'll see you when I fall asleep by Idontsleepidaydream (Complete?) Series of mostly oneshots, set after events of TBT, explorations of Brozone relationship and feels, mostly focused on JD honestly, who has more issues that a rabid cat in a bag

Your Grace by Mrct (Incomplete) A series about how JD returned to the Troll Tree to care for Baby Branch, and when the Trolls made their triumphant escape, King Peppy perished in the effort. John, instinctivelly tucking little baby Poppy in his hair in the chaos of it all, suddenly gets stuck as acting regent, much to his confusion, unease and resignation XD It currently on has a 3-chapter long fic but I assume the writer plans to expand on it, which is why I recommend the series whole

I Wanna Find A Home by Isabel3710 (Incomplete) Grey little Branch decided that he is too much of a burden among the trolls of his own Tribe, and figures it is best to leave and find somewhere else to be a less of a bother. His feet leads him to the Lonesome Flats into the arms of young Delta Dawn, who cannot on good conscience allow this poor little trolling to struggle, even though he is probably a Pop Troll (And honestly, seeing the mess he is, all the better he left them and found the Country Tribe in her opinion) Currently sitting at 3 chapters, last updated at April 30th 2024, I cant honestly wait to see Branch find the family he deserves <3

Weightless by Sunfox (Incomplete) When Chef attacks, both Poppy and Peppy gets captured along with the Snack Pack, leaving the Pop Tribe leaderless. With contingency plans in motions, they decide to evacuate, but Sky Toronto knows he has to let Branch knows what happened- either in effort to convince him to come along or to know to stay put in his bunker. Branch instead decided he cannot on good conscience let any trolls get eaten and sets out to save Poppy and the rest from certain doom. Currently sitting at 2 out of 3 chapters planned, and last updated only few days ago, it is honestly more of a 'snack' than a full sized fic XD But I enjoy the exploration of the events

Birdie by TurnedWorm (Incomplete) Clay managed to happed upon grey Branch just as the Trolls were escaping through the tunnels and now reunited, off with the (future) Putt Putt trolls they go; fic that explores the very early struggles of survival of the sepparated tribe, while Clay tries to be the best guardian for Branch as well. Currently sitting at 3 chapters and sadly last updated in march, but hope is still holding that the writer will continue it XD

Torrent by ASamwich (Incomplete) Grey Branch is having a very bad time; nearly drowning in his bunker when storm caused his seals to break through and flood his lower levels, he is then found by concerned Poppy in the midst of battling a serious infection. With his bunker pretty much inhabitable right now and him being ill, he is forced to accept help and dragged kicking and screaming into friendship XD Currently sitting at 5 chapters and last updated at the beginning of April, it is one of those 'I hope it will get continued eventually' fics pff

Field of Forgetmenots by EmpressGeek (Incomplete) A planned series probably spanning multiple fic (the first one sitting at 4 chapters and complete), it explores a sudden growing sibling relationship between Grey Branch and Keith, a little oddball trolling who seems to be fitting badly among his peers. Very sweet with hint of trauma on Branch's part, and I am at the edge of my seat, waiting for more XD

Dereliction by Jellfish (Incomplete) This is, in my opinion, THE fic about John Dory returning to take care for Branch (After Rosiepuff's death and after the escape from the Troll Tree) Thinking he will find a happy little trolling, JD instead finds a little malnourished neglected scrappy thing, and is not only horrified and angry, but also terribly guilty about ever leaving. Currently sitting at 36 chapters and updated fairly regularly, I really cannot recommend this one enough!

Rewinding our Fate by Trollsbuzz (Incomplete) Perhaps the only time travel fic written with some style and quality that makes it readable XD It is rushing through the Broppy rather fast in my opinion, and some things feel a bit OOC, buuuut it's nothing major and it is enjoyable read! Currently sitting at 41 chapters and being updated fairly regularly, so here's hoping it will continue so!

Now, the remaining 3 Fanfic recommendations are all Anonymous and Incomplete (Sadly seems the authors didn't want to be associated with writing for Trolls franchise but oh well)

A Litte Winter Miracle Grey Branch suddenly and to his horror finds abandoned egg in the snow, and overcome with protective urges is unable to just pass it along to anyone else. Reconnecting with Kismet, he is slowly settling into his sudden parent role (in secret from most other Trolls, including Poppy and the Snack Pack). Adding to bit of feral behaviour from Branch, it makes for a very easy read- currently sitting at 24 chapters and last updated at April 26th, it is one I am really hoping that will continue XD

I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home Kid Grey Branch got accidentally mistaken for a rock tribe trolling by teenage Barb, and hauled of to the angler buses before anyone could even blink XD With a nice portrayal of autistic Branch, it's one of THE 'accidental sibling acquisitions', but Barb can't complain as she got the awesomest little brother out of the deal. Currently sitting at 14 chapters and last updated at April 24th, it gives me some hope it will continue XD

Stuck With You Instead of the whole Velvet and Veneer plotline, we get Cashmere, who strives to be a more of a Country Pop singing sensation- and John Dory and Delta Dawn happens to be her unfortunate victims. Featuring miserable John Dory who, after 20 years, doesnt hold much hopes that anyone would even care he is gone, and rather furious Delta Dawn who can't believe she got stuck with a Pop Troll and is determined to escape. Do I sense a future romance brewing...? (I sure hope so!) Currently at 3 chapters and last updated on May 1st, I am fairly optimistic this one is ongoing!

So those are my recommendations! Hopefully I did not mess up the links but you can always search for them manually XD

[honeyynymphh]

| The Mark of the Beast |

Cardinal Copia x Fem!Reader rating: E chapter word count: 3k total word count: 5k chapter 1 of 2 tags/warnings: dom copia, he's a dickhead, humiliation, inappropriate touching, abuse of authority, hair pulling

An imposter has apparently been hiding in the abbey, and there is only one way to prove you're part of the congregation. And that is to submit yourself to an examination to find Lucifer's mark upon your body.

read on ao3

I sat just outside Sister Imperator’s office, patiently—or not so patiently waiting for my turn. I was last and had spent the entire day on edge, unable to pay attention to my chores or lessons. Nobody had really been able to pay attention, not since this morning’s sermon. And it hadn’t really been a proper one. Papa Terzo had been interrupted halfway through by Sister Imperator, who had rushed in late—a disturbing thing in its own right. Sister Imperator was never late!

Her hurried and whispered words with Papa had left the rest of us whispering in the pews until Papa had turned to face us, looking confused. He had told us we all needed to submit to an inspection—apparently, an imposter was amongst us. Spreading falsehoods and lies about our Dark Father. The whispers had grown even louder then.

Over the next few days, we were all to submit for an examination to confirm that we were all truly siblings of this abbey. And the only way to prove that was for our bodies to be stripped and searched for a mark—the mark of the beast. A mark bestowed upon our skin when we had pledged ourselves to Lucifer. My stomach had twisted just as my hands in my lap did now.

Some of my other sisters had proudly shown me theirs. I had not been a sibling for very long and I had heard a few remarks about them but nobody had ever said that everyone had one! I thought it was something only the higher clergy were gifted with. Last night, I had twisted myself in circles like a dog chasing its tail trying to find some mark upon my body. Anytime I had spotted a blemish I had felt a momentary rush of relief only to realise it was simply another freckle. I had asked Sister Rosaline, whom I shared my room with to check me over and she had found nothing. Her suspicious eyes and cold voice had made me reluctant to ask anyone else.

Would they throw me out? I knew in my heart I was no imposter, and I had taken my vows. But still, my heart was gripped with dread.

The door was suddenly opened and another Sister walked out, giving me a smile before she skipped in the direction of the papal suites. A ghoul followed, not even glancing at me before it slunk down the halls. Sister Imperator soon followed but before she could hurry out her eyes fell on me.

“Sister!” she said, raising a hand to her forehead in surprise. “I thought Sophia was the last one today.” She sighed. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting but I must go speak with Papa Nihil urgently.”

I tried not to let it get to me. “Should I return tomorrow morning?” I asked as I stood up. 

I did not want to wait a whole night for my fate to be decided, I was anxious enough as it was. This whole ordeal needed to be over!

The older woman shook her head. “No, no, no.” She looked across the hall at a closed door. “Cardinal Copia can check you, we have too many siblings to get through and I want this dealt with quickly.”

“Cardinal?” I squeaked out. I did not want that man anywhere near me. He was terrifying. And I certainly did not want him to see me naked! “But, Sister, I would much rather it be you.”

While the smile she gave me was kind, she was clearly tired and I could tell she had better things to worry about than my embarrassment. 

“Dear, he’s very efficient,” she said, giving me another smile. “You’ll be fine.”

“Or Papa?” I asked. “Can he not check me?”

Sister snorted. “Ha. No. This is not an excuse for Terzo to fuck the entire congregation. We would be here until spring if that were the case.” She gave me a quick little pat on the shoulder and then prodded me in the direction of the Cardinal’s office door. “Cardinal Copia is a professional. And he has finished with everyone else.”

I went to open my mouth to protest but she was already waving me off and hurrying down the halls, her shoes clicking behind her. I stared at his office door. Maybe I could just go back to my room, but I knew it was pointless. I had to be checked and I didn’t want to disappoint Sister Imperator—or have her think I was silly. If it had been Papa Nihil I think I would have been less hesitant. I shuddered at the thought.

I had only ever been in Cardinal Copia’s office once before. It had been when I had first joined the abbey and was a fresh-faced novitiate. He had been talking of rituals—explicit ones—and I had been unable to stop fidgeting in my seat, unable to really concentrate. I had been sitting so far back I do not know how he had noticed me, but he had. And the Cardinal had requested to see me after dinner that night in his office. The old church I’d left behind had instilled in me a sense of shame that had been hard to ignore during those early days—especially when my thoughts would turn to the more lustful. Whenever the Cardinal would speak, I hadn’t been able to control the way I would press my thighs together. I didn’t really care what he spoke of, only that he did. But when he spoke of rituals out there on the sacred grounds, bodies naked in praise of Lucifer, how was I supposed to concentrate? I had never heard such lascivious talk before, and certainly not from a man wearing a cassock!

I didn’t know what I had expected when I had arrived in his office, but having the back of my hands struck with a ruler had not been it.

Lack of discipline, he had told me. I should pay attention and not fidget during lessons. It had been mortifying. But not because he had struck me like an errant child but because it had made my mind immediately think of being bent over the desk and him striking my backside. I never wanted to go into his office again.

That was a lie. I did. But he couldn’t know that. I had witnessed a few hopeful siblings sidle up to him after an impressive sermon, surely emboldened by his passionate words and that wicked look he would get in those mismatched eyes. All of them had been turned away with a snide remark. I had no desire to be mocked or to embarrass myself in front of a high member of the clergy. So I didn’t dare approach him. 

I knocked on the door politely until I heard the sharp command to enter. I did so, letting the door shut softly behind me. The Cardinal was at his desk, bent over some document and scribbling furiously. I stood there awkwardly for a moment before I cleared my throat.

“Cardinal—“

He held up a hand for my silence but did not look up. I bristled but kept my mouth shut, hoping he would finish quickly.

I glanced around the office. It was very much like Sister Imperator’s office with dark wooden panelling and numerous shelves full of books and other odd trinkets. But the Cardinal’s space had a ridged neatness about it, I felt sympathy for the maid who had to clean in here. I suspected he was rather pedantic about everything. My eyes continued to roam until they fell on a high wooden stool off to the side. It looked out of place compared to the Cardinal’s high wingback chair and the hard uncomfortable chair that sat in front of his massive desk—I suspected this was a deliberate choice in an effort to discourage others from staying long. When my eyes fell back to his desk, the Cardinal was placing his fountain pen away and finally acknowledging me with a raised brow, gloved hands folded in front of him on the desk.

“Sister,” he said, “what do you want?”

“Sister Imperator was meant to see me—for my mark,” I said quickly. “But she was called out urgently. She said I could see you instead.”

The man regarded me a moment before he let out a suffering sigh and waved a gloved hand at me.

“Si, si.” He stood, his grucifix clinking against the many buttons of his black cassock. 

It was then I realised he had already removed his biretta. I’d so rarely seen him without it when he was wearing the regular clergy attire. The soft lamplight made his hair look like burnished wood and I could see the greying strands at his temples. I clasped my hands in front of me and tried to not think of how it would feel to run my fingers through it.

He moved around the desk and past me, leaving a trail of heavy incense and leather in his wake. There was a scrape and I turned to watch him grab the stool and place it before his desk.

“Do you know if you have one?” he asked in a bored voice but then he smirked. “Unless you wish to confess to being a virtuous little idolator now?”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t find one but I’m no imposter, Cardinal.”

“We shall see.” He pointed at the stool. “Take off your clothes and sit.”

I stood there stunned by his brash attitude. He scowled at me impatiently.

“Hurry up, girl.” He waved a hand at me impatiently. “I do not want to be here all day.”

I quickly stepped out of my shoes, taking my veil off as I did. I angled my body away from him ever so slightly, not wishing to look at him, though I could feel his eyes on me. The skin on the back of my neck prickled and a shaky breath escaped my lips. I undid the top few buttons of my habit before unceremoniously tugging it over my head. It was nothing, I told myself. Many people had seen me naked since my time at the abbey, I had become more comfortable over time. But still…it had never been in front of Cardinal Copia. I folded my dress over the nearby armchair with my veil before I moved to sit on the stool but his words stopped me.

“Dai!” he snapped, coming towards me and pulling up my bra strap so that it flicked down hard against my shoulder. “The rest of it as well.”

“What?” I said, shocked.

“Remove the rest of your clothes,” he repeated, voice tinged with irritation. “Satana salvami dalle bambine stupide…”

While I didn’t speak Italian, I didn’t need to in order to guess what “stupide” meant. But I wasn’t going to sulk, I just wanted it over and done with. Ignoring the embarrassment already welling somewhere in my chest, I took a deep breath and undid the clasp of my bra, grateful that my fingers didn’t fumble with them. The flush of humiliation was rising up my neck and I could feel it suffusing my cheeks. It’s just like a medical exam, I told myself. A very strange one. I glanced at the Cardinal and he was staring at me with a blank expression. I couldn’t just stand here forever so I decided to just treat it like a bandaid and gathered whatever courage I had to push my knickers down my legs and step out of them. I kicked them towards the rest of my clothes and immediately used my arms to try and cover my breasts with my hands clasped in front of my sex.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Sister,” said the Cardinal, bored disdain dripping from his words. He pointed at the stool. “Sit.”

I awkwardly perched myself on the stool, my hands in my lap and keeping my thighs pressed together tightly while my feet dangled. I didn’t know where to look as he approached me, engulfing me again in that delirious scent of his. It made my skin prickle and I tried to think of anything that would distract me. I was all too aware of how bare I was and didn’t need my stupid body to give me away. Thankfully, he walked behind me and I felt myself relax somewhat. It didn’t last long. Suddenly and without warning, a leather-clad hand was gripping my shoulder while the other touched my bare back. I couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden contact.

“You have not been here long, Sister.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” I replied as his hand pushed me forward slightly. “I only joined a few months ago.”

“Most marks are on the torso,” he said. “The mark isn’t used much in these modern times but everyone is gifted one.” I felt the leather glide down my back, making my skin break out in gooseflesh. It felt unbearably soft despite his precise movement. “Sometimes it is like that of a burn—a branding—or it can be like a tattoo or birthmark. But it’s always His sign.”

It was easier to try and pretend I was merely in a lesson, or perhaps mass, and not sitting here naked while his hands roamed over my skin. He grasped my shoulder again and pulled me back upright. A gloved hand swept my hair to the side and trailed gently over the back of my neck. He moved methodically but I couldn’t deny how every touch sent my nerves alight. Occasionally when he moved closer, the grucifix he wore would swing forward and I’d feel the cool bejewelled cross graze against the skin of my back.

When he tilted my head to the side to look behind my ear I had to bite my lip. The patch of skin there was too sensitive and again my body was tingling. I tried to squeeze my thighs together and then abruptly stopped—I was completely bare, I told myself, and couldn’t hide. He would notice. I tried to think of anything to distract myself: Nihil naked, the smell of rotten eggs—anything revolting I could think of. But it was too hard to conjure up anything disagreeable with those hands on my skin and his scent enveloping me.

“Nothing yet, Sorella,” he hummed. He sounded a little gleeful, as though he was hoping to be the one to find the imposter in our midst. “It could be on your head,” he continued thoughtfully, hand grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging me back so I had to look up at him, “we could chop it all off but that would be a shame to have you looking like Papa Secondo.”

He let out a bark of laughter and moved in front of me, letting go of my hair. I still kept my hands in my lap, trying to salvage whatever modesty I had but he grabbed one arm and stretched it out. I didn’t know where to look so I just stared below his chin at the top few buttons of his black cassock. He twisted my arm and then spread my fingers before he dropped my hand unceremoniously and began doing the same to the other.

It felt like a slight reprieve to have him checking my arm and hand. It didn’t make me feel as delirious as his touching of my back and neck. But too soon he was done with the other arm. I couldn’t place my hands back in my lap so I just gripped the side of the stool. The Cardinal was already tilting my chin up so his fingers could glide over my throat before they dipped over my collarbone. There was a rustle of fabric as I heard him lower himself to the ground before me. I kept my head slightly up, staring at a small brass globe sitting on a shelf behind his desk. One of his hands was gripping my waist while the other flittered over my chest. He muttered something in Italian under his breath.

“I have yet to find a single mark on your skin, dolce,” he said and I still refused to look at him.

“There will be one,” I replied even as my breath hitched.

The feel of his thumb digging into my hip was driving me insane and I tried to take in a calm and even breath. But I lost any composure I had when his thumb accidentally swiped over my nipple. I sucked in a sharp breath in an effort not to moan, my whole body trembling at the contact. 

“Keep still then.”

I bit my lip again as leather moved underneath my breast. How was I supposed to keep still? Surely he didn’t need to touch what felt like every inch of my skin? It was torturous. 

His careful and businesslike touches should not have had me dancing precariously on the knife’s edge of arousal but they did. I was praying that he would find it soon, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. My stomach was tense with building desire and the throb between my legs was getting insistent, I knew I was already soaking wet. Sneaking a glance down at him, I could see his face was set in an expression of focused concentration—his heavy brow furrowed as his eyes swept over my legs. A hand glided up my shin and gripped the side of my knee, fingers tickling the back of my thigh.

He hummed in thought and when I saw his finger move between my pressed legs I nearly cried out.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

No way, I told myself. I was not parting my legs. It was too humiliating. But he just glanced up and caught my eye.

“Do it now, Sorella.”

That frightening face just watched me, seeming to dare me to defy him. I parted my legs barely two inches. His face was directly in front of my shamefully soaked pussy and I was terrified he would notice—and even worse that he would make some snide remark about it. But I knew he had to notice, there was no way he couldn’t smell it. If I could, he certainly could. I wanted to run, but his grip on my leg was firm.

An irritated huff fell from his lips before his large hands swept up my legs and gripped my knees. He forced my legs apart and I nearly tipped off the stool with the sudden force of it. My face flushed again and I readjusted my tight grip on the seat and stared up at the ceiling. The humiliation had me breathing hard. I couldn’t even try to pretend I had any composure left as soft leather-clad fingers moved over the inside of my thigh. I glanced down again unable to stop myself and saw him lean closer. His finger paused—it was right in the crease of where my thigh met my groin. His hand was so close to my dripping sex I was ready to scream. He tapped my skin and I squirmed in my seat.

“I think this is it, dolce,” I felt his breath against my folds and bit the inside of my cheek. How was he doing this? How in heaven was he so calm? “But I have to check for sure.”

“How?” I managed to ask. I didn’t even sound like myself.

As with earlier when he had first begun, there was no warning from him. His head just moved forward as his hands dug into the flesh of my thighs before I felt his mouth kiss against the skin. His cheek brushed again my pussy, sideburns tickling and teasing my flesh before it was suddenly gone. I’d been unable to stop the soft whine of protest that fell from my lips, I prayed that he hadn’t heard.

Suddenly it stung hot and I gasped. I looked where he had touched me—there was a small mark—three sixes intertwined—which blared red for a moment before it faded to look like a regular birthmark. It also sent a rush of pure, unfiltered pleasure through my entire body—a body that was already on edge. I shuddered. The temptation to just scoot myself forward an inch or so, just so that the Cardinal’s large nose was buried against me was overwhelming. 

But he stood abruptly, smoothing his hands over his cassock not even phased that he had left me a wanton mess. I just sat there, still breathing hard as I tried to come to myself.

“You can go, Sister,” he said, moving towards his desk. He glanced at a clock on the wall and grabbed his biretta before placing it on his head and giving me another withering look. “I’m already late for dinner.”

thanks for reading! will hopefully add the rest soon :) apologies for any errors.

Dai! - Come on! Satana salvami dalle bambine stupide - Satan save me from stupid little girls

chapter two

[nobodysdaydreams]

📢HEY @sophieswundergarten AND EVERYONE ELSE ON THIS WEBSITE. GET OVER HERE AND LISTEN UP BECAUSE I'M STANDING UP ON THE ROOF OF YOUR HOUSE, AND I'M AGGRESSIVELY LAUNCHING FIC RECS AT YOU LIKE A GUY WITH A T-SHIRT CANNON AT A HOCKEY GAME!

Here's what prompted this fit of rage for everybody that wants the tea 🫖:

@sophieswundergarten wanted me to send in some asks for fic recommendations. Cool right?

WRONG!

Because I gave her the option for four different types of fic recs, and told her she could choose whichever ones she was comfortable with, and she chose to answer three out of the four asks I sent her.

Seems reasonable right?

No. THINK AGAIN!

Because the only one she DIDN'T answer was the one about her OWN FICS which are FANTASTIC and in doing so, she is INTENTIONALLY depriving MULTIPLE FANDOMS of her BRILLIANT writing.

But fear not my friends. This challenge will not go unanswered.

Some of you may know that Sophie made a call out post to praise my writing many years ago. She probably thought she could do it without any kind of response too. Big mistake, buddy. The ADHD might lead me to procrastinate, but I always get there eventually! Sometimes. God willing.

But certainly today, because I cannot and will not allow this injustice to go unanswered. Certainly not when I've had this much sugar and am in the mood to procrastinate on my own writing! (but we don't gotta talk about that)

So let's start out with her Wolf359 fics, because if you are sick and tired of Lovelace's crew not getting enough love, then you need to go read these fics right now! Not only are they all titled after canon space survival tips from Pryce and Carter (yes, Sophie looked them up, she went the extra mile), but they are brilliant, amazing, and make me wish we got to see more of each and every one of these characters!

We got Sam Lambert and Isabel Lovelace.

We got Victorie Fourier and Kuan Hui

We got Fourier and Hui again

and we also got a fic of Renee Minkowski and Miranda Pryce that SOPHIE attempted to BAN me from reading for the longest time and the proof is in the tags! (I simply hadn't finished the podcast yet and she was warning me of spoilers).

Then we got her TMBS fics, and the worst part is I cannot even TALK about all her tmbs fics because Sophie has written THIRTY FOUR OF THEM. That's right THIRTY FOUR. At this point, she might as well be called Sophie the librarian, because she could just open up her own tmbs library. You want to see these kids in angsty situations? She's got tons of it, especially for Reynie and Sticky. My favorites are Dr. W Dex (Sticky angst, she has a lot of that), Testing the Truth (Kate angst), Sparks (Reynie angst, she has a lot of that too), and Families of Choice (Constance angst).

But she's got angst about the executives too: Innocent or not, you're not a bet I care to take, was a gift fic for me that is FANTASTIC and Out Cold is great if you wanna scream about SQ being left on an island.

Pretty much, if you want angst for any character, Sophie has it, but that's not all she has on her AO3, oh no. Worried these tmbs fics are too angsty? Don't worry, there's also this one about a chicken: Her Imperial Highness the Empress of All Fowl. 🐔

And HOW can we talk about fic without talking about I don't wanna know I'm not capable, the best OCD representation of all time? We can't. Because it's the best OCD representation of all time. Go read it right now!

There's also this one with cute fluff about the kids: Firefly Nights, and this one where Reynie nearly dies in a snow storm: An Averagely Cold Winter Storm, and this one, where Sticky gets amnesia: Swept Away, and this one where we find out what happens to Jackson and Jillson in the show: The Door Is Open (Except when you're in jail).

I'm throwing these at you like grenades! They're flying through your windows!

AND THIS ONE! Oh my goodness how could I forget about this? THIS ONE RIGHT HERE. IT HAS MY FAVORITE THINGS. Sibling angst? Check. Dramatic irony? Check. Nathaniel being a villainous theater kid and calling his brother's house just to leave fake threatening voicemails? Check: After the Beep 

SO GO AND READ THESE NOW, BECAUSE IF SOPHIE IS NOT GONNA HYPE HERSELF UP THEN BY GOLLY, I WILL.

(in all seriousness, I love your writing. Have a nice evening my friend).

[appleblocks]

Fresh Life - Prologue

[This is Part 0 of my fic, as I am considering Part 1 to be chapter 1. Here's some things to keep in mind before moving down:]

The oldest character is 23 and the youngest is 19.

" " is used for verbal communication, [ ] is used for sign language, and { } will be used for telepathy and thoughts.

I am having to start posting this on tumblr cause I don't have an ao3 account yet :( and these posts will be very long, so I'm sorry.

If you don't want to see these long posts on your timeline feel free to block the #Fresh Life - fic tag bellow

[The children of some of the first Lifers set out on the trial to survive on their own, developing alliances and establishing that not everyone can be trusted.]

Time and time again the Watchers of this world put their favorite creatures to the test in a trial of survival and wits, with the goal of choosing their personal champions by the end. For years this had been a tradition, and now, decades after the first winner rose to the top, a new trial was called upon. Except this time, a much different group was to be tested.

The morning sun shined as it rose over Stratos, bouncing off its gold details and framing the many temples within it. That same light creeping in through the curtains of one demi-god’s room, waking him up slowly. Hermes yawned and covered his eyes from the sun coming in, but as soon as his mind fully woke he sprung out of bed with great excitement. - “It’s today!!” - He exclaimed, flying and jumping around his room to gather his things and get ready for the day. - “It’s today, it’s today, it’s toda- JEREMY!!” A thud from the next room over, followed by a groan and wet footsteps in the hall before Hermes’s room door opened, his very sleepy and somewhat startled sibling standing there mid transformation. - ”Whaaattt?..” - They asked groggily, leaning on the doorframe. - “Today’s the day! We’re going off on the adventure of a lifetime!!” - Hermes replied still with great enthusiasm, and maybe a bit too loudly, flying over to Jeremy Jr., hugging them and spinning them around in the air.  Jeremy startled again at being picked up and spun around, but they hugged back nonetheless. - “Okay, okay! Put me down now, I just woke up!” - They asked with a tired laugh, and the two landed quickly after. - “Right! Sorry!” - Hermes apologized, making sure Jeremy was stable on their feet.  - “Well, look who’s awake.” - Another voice spoke up, and Joel stood outside the door in his God form, smiling softly at the two. - “I thought I’d have to drag you two out of bed today.”

Across the mountains and into the badlands the sun shined as it rose above the sheriff’s ranch in Tumble Town, waking up the farm animals and signaling a new day. A rooster’s call rang out as the young voidwalker made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen to make breakfast, but was instead greeted with breakfast already on the table and his father still cooking more. Tango looked up from the table, very much half asleep. - “G’morning, Tom.” - He greeted with a warm smile, resting his chin on his hand. Jimmy quickly turned to look at Tom, smiling brightly and immediately setting what he was cooking aside. - “There he is! My boy!” - He exclaimed and approached Tom, pulling him into a big warm hug. Tom hugged back, just as tightly as his father. - [Good morning.] - Tom signed after the hug. - [You are awake early.] - “Well of course! Today’s a very very special day, I gotta make sure you’re doing well before we go see everybody.” - Jimmy replied, ushering Tom over to the table. - “Now sit, sit! You’ve gotta eat to start the day off right!” Tom smiled softly and took a seat as ordered, digging into his breakfast pancakes and enjoying the warm morning and his dads company while he could.

The morning sun could not reach this next location, but the purple rift provided enough light on its own. Watcher magic filled the air here, but it was still bearable enough to be around. After all these years the rift had lost power as most worlds were united and no longer needed it for travel, and so the area behind it had been hollowed out and carved into a large series of chambers that held great treasures and monuments; Statues of entities passed, paintings of deities and patron saints, simplified depictions of the Watchers. All things of that nature were kept here for everyone to look back upon whenever needed. - “Dad, how long until the others get here?” - The older bot asked, bored of sitting there and staring at the cavernous ceiling. - “I reckon they will show up soon. We did tell everyone to arrive before noon.” - Mumbo replied as he examined the circuitry on the younger bot’s arm, taking a moment to look at his wristwatch. - “Yep. Should be here any moment now. It shouldn’t take too much longer.” - He assured, finishing up the repairs to Jrumbot’s arm. - “There, good as new.” - “Thanks dad!” - Jrumbot smiled and pulled his sleeve back down, moving his arm around to make sure it was all good.

And right on time, as the rest of the group attending stepped past the rift; Joel and Sausage accompanying Hermes and Jeremy, and Jimmy and Tango accompanying Tom. Mumbo looked back at them and gave them all a wave and a smile, standing up and going to catch up with the other parents while the youngsters grouped together now. - “Good morning!” - Hermes greeted with a big bright smile, carrying his bag with him. - “Was about time y'all showed up. Was starting to think you all got too scared to come.” - Grumbot taunted lightheartedly, standing up from the stone bench he’d been sitting at. - “Pff- As if. Hermes woke me up so excited that I fell out of my tank.” - Jeremy pointed at their brother, chuckling. - “I wasn’t missing this even if I wanted to.” - [You alright?] - Tom signed, looking down at Jeremy Jr. with some concern. It takes Jr. a moment to remember what the sign means, but they quickly nod and try to reassure. - “Oh, yes yes, I’m fine! It wasn’t too big of a fall.” - [Good.] - Tom signed again before turning and stepping over to Hermes, opening his arms to him, and immediately Hermes set his bag down and pulled Tom into a big tight hug, both very happy to see each other.

- “So where’s Grian?” - Joel asked, looking to Mumbo. - “He should be coming out soon. He was conversing with the Secret Keeper last time I saw him, I hope the conversation is going well.” - Mumbo replied, dusting some redstone off his hands and rolling his sleeves back down. - “Oh, this is so exciting! Our babies are going to become men! Are your sons as excited as ours? Are you also excited?” - Sausage asked, looking between Jimmy, Tango, and Mumbo. Jimmy grimaced slightly at the questions, his earlier enthusiasm was starting to turn into nervousness. - “You could say so. Tango and I got ourselves up early to make sure Tom ate well before comin’ here. But not gonna lie, I’m starting to feel not so sure about this.” Sausage tilted his head in slight confusion. - “What do you mean?” - “Oh come on Jimmy, don’t start scaring Sausage with that.” - Joel remarked, crossing his arms and glancing away. - “They’ll be fine. We’ve done this millions of times, they can do it too.” Jimmy frowned but decided not to refute it, and deep down, Joel was worrying a lot too, but preferred to avoid the topic altogether. Sausage looked at the two of them with some concern and definite confusion, and Tango quietly put an arm around Jimmy to help keep him calm.

“Ah, I see everyone’s finally gathered here!” - Grian called, stepping through the large stone doors at the other end of the room. - “Come on then, let’s get this show on the road.” Everyone made their way towards the next chamber through those same stone doors, and the Watcher magic was much more palpable here. At the center of the room was the familiar Secret Keeper, a large stone statue used to communicate with the Watchers themselves. Around it, covering the walls of the chamber, were paintings. Paintings of the previous winners, each with their associated astral body, and space for many more. The spot for a new painting had opened, and it beckoned for fresh meat.  The young ones stepped forward, as prepared as they could be to embark on the journey ahead. 

- “Alright, here are the rules.” - Grian started, his wings turning from the colorful trio of colors into a dark and deep purple, rings of eyes floating around his head now. - “Your goal will be to survive, but you already knew that. You will have 3 lives before your chances run out, and in your last life your goal is to be the last one standing. Whoever wins will be added to our hall here, and have a fancy portrait of them in that there wall.” - He added, pointing at the blank portrait rippling with magic. - “Now.. Are you ready?” - “Wait!” - Jimmy called from the back, making everyone stop and turn to look at him. He quickly ran over to Tom, signaling for him to lean closer, and retrieved a gift from his inventory: a black rancher hat, which he promptly placed on Tom’s head. - “Good luck, son. We’ll be here when you return.” - He said with much care and worry, pulling Tom into one last tight, tight hug before he had to go. Tom hugged back even tighter, but soon they had to separate, and Jimmy returned to Tango’s side. Tom smiled at the two and readjusted his new hat to make sure it wouldn’t fall, and turned back to Grian so the event could continue. Grian raised an eyebrow and looked at the others in the back. - “Anybody else got anything to say before I send them?” Jeremy Jr. quickly turned to their dads, even if the question wasn’t directed at themself. - “Don’t make us any more siblings while we’re gone!” - “No promises!” - Sausage replied with a hearty laugh, and Joel just put a hand to his head with a light awkward chuckle. - “Be careful if you go into the Nether, don’t let yourselves overheat!” - Mumbo called to the Bot brothers, a bit nervous for their circuits. - “We won’t!” - The two bots replied, giving their dad a reassuring smile, and turned to their other dad. - “Alright, now that that’s all settled, it is time.” - The magical feeling ramped up as Grian said this, the eyes above his head opening and glowing purple, along with the symbol on the Secret Keeper behind him. - “I’ll be watching you all. Good luck.”

And with a flash the young group was gone, taken to a new world where they were to start their trial. The only thing left behind was the bag Hermes had brought; somebody must’ve forgotten to tell him he couldn’t bring those things with him.

[thelordofgifs]

Silm fandom! Have a PSA. Hate the piped tags on AO3? Would much rather read a fic tagged Fingon/Maedhros than one tagged Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo? Have I got the userscript for you! Look how neat and readable my AO3 silm character tags look now:

What is a userscript?

Good question! The small sibling, who is a computer geek, did not know about these when I mentioned them, so I have to conclude I have stumbled upon some secret hidden wisdom here. In short, a userscript is a (free) program written in JavaScript that modifies the web pages you visit. They're very safe, and imo an essential part of customising your web browsing experience to your liking!

How do I install userscripts?

I might make a separate post about mobile browsers because I'm tired. But on desktop, you first want to get a browser extension that allows you to manage your userscripts. I like Tampermonkey, which works with most major browsers.

Okay, how do I get rid of the piped tags?

Once you've installed the userscript manager of your choice, you want to go to the userscript Ao3 De-Piped Tags on Greasy Fork and click the big green "install" button. For most userscripts, that's it! For this one, we need to take a couple of tiny extra steps:

Go to your Tampermonkey dashboard (you can find this by clicking on "browser extensions" and then "Tampermonkey". Unfortunately I don't know how other userscript managers work, so if you didn't choose Tampermonkey you'll have to play around a little.)

Click the "Ao3 De-Piped Tags" script on your Tampermonkey dashboard.

This should bring you to the "Editor" page, and a bunch of scary-looking code in JavaScript. Don't panic, I have no idea what any of this does and I still managed to do the necessary fiddling! The block you want looks like this:

//SCRIPT SETTINGS// const sideToDisplay = 'right'; //left OR right, for character tags with one pipe (two names) const partToDisplay = 'right'; // left OR right OR central, for character tags with two pipes (three names) const tagsOnFicPage = 0; //0 to disable, 1 to enable

4. All you want to do now is change the first line so that it reads

const sideToDisplay = 'left'; //left OR right, for character tags with one pipe (two names)

so that the tag "Maedhros | Maitimo" displays as "Maedhros" instead. If you're a Quenya freak (affectionate) who would prefer all the tags display characters' Quenya names instead of Sindarin ones, skip this step.

5. If you'd also like this change to show on the fic page itself, not just the AO3 search results page, change the third line of the code block to read

const tagsOnFicPage = 1; //0 to disable, 1 to enable

6. Save your changes to the file, refresh your AO3 page, and marvel!

I hate this and want to get rid of it.

No problem, you can turn off the userscipt or completely uninstall it from the Tampermonkey dashboard!

I want to display some names with the left part of the piped tag and others with the right part, is that possible?

Unfortunately not :( This also applies if you're in other fandoms (I hear The Witcher fandom is one such?) which uses piped tags where you want to use the right side of the tag.

Can anyone else see the changes I've made?

No! The userscript applies to your own browsing experience only, so you aren't messing with how anyone else's fics display when you use it.

This is magic, got any other cool userscripts for AO3?

Loads, most of them much easier to use than this one! Here are some links:

Put your "marked for later" button on the AO3 homepage

Add HTML formatting options to the AO3 comment box

Set your default posting language to English

Fix the bug where copy-pasting from Google Docs to AO3 puts spaces around all your italics

And here's a list of many more to peruse!

Cool, how do I get this to work on a mobile browser?

Yeah my laundry's finished now so I'm not typing all that out. Maybe tomorrow.

[lilypadlys]

Burn For You

First in what's hopefully a series of Dewdrop/Reader oneshots under the title, Burn With Me. Very little overarching plot, just a bunch of fun little scenarios. I think he's neat alright? Will include fluff and smut (will be labeled on the post)

Summary: Dew finds his hands full of a crying sibling of sin and has to try his best to comfort them. They both discover there's more to their relationship than they originally thought…

Ship: Dewdrop/Reader

Word Count: 1,545

Rating: General Audiences, SFW

Tags: fluff and angst, love confessions, idiots in love

A/N: Reader is referred to as Y/N and no pronouns are specified. This one is fluff with a bit of angst. Starts with some fighting but ends with fluff and cuddles.

AO3 or below the cut.

Dew knows you’re standing out in the hall steeling yourself. He just waits, taking pride in the knowledge that he can be a pain to deal with. It was part of the game. When you finally rap on his bedroom door, he gives a bored, “What?” without turning away from the TV. When you let yourself in, he doesn’t so much as bat an eye.

“Hey Dew,” fatigue and annoyance are evident in your voice. Dew isn’t paying attention though. “Sister Imperator sent me to tell you that-”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” He snorts playfully and rolls his eyes.

You sigh and try again. “She told me to remind you that your new costume fitting is tomorrow.”

“Okay? So?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re not in the mood for this today. “So, please remember to show up. I had to reschedule the last one because you forgot.”

“Fine. Whatever." He says boredly. "I don’t see why this is necessary though. I mean, wasn’t the first time good enough?”

“Don’t give me that!” You snap, your flat, tired tone becoming a snarl. “If you hadn’t set the last uniform on fire, there would be no need for a new fitting.”

He turns his head at that. “Alright, geez. Keep your pants on.”

“One-thirty. In my office.” It’s not a question. You turn to leave but Dew is determined to bait you further.

“You doing alright, Y/N?” Dew throws out nonchalantly. “You look like hell. I’m not sure my appearance is the one you should be worried about.” He was looking for a friendly game of cheeky insults. You had thick skin and were one of the best at matching him quip for quip. You normally met his bait by rolling your eyes and throwing it right back at him. His jaw nearly hits the floor in shock when, instead of snapping back, tears well up in your eyes.

“Wha?” He gapes.

“Really?” You’re incredulous. “I can’t with you.” You turn and stomp out the door.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck you!” You slam the door behind you and storm off.

Dew is at a loss. He feels terrible. He should have realized to back off. You had lacked your normal playful snark and you seemed exhausted. If your tone wasn’t enough of a clue, the dark circles under your eyes gave it away. He had been told many times that his inability to think things through before acting would get him into trouble. He hadn’t listened.

Obviously.

“Well I’m already screwed.” He mutters. He yanks open his door and runs after you before anything like better judgment kicks in.

Dew catches up just in time to see you slip into your office and firmly shut the door. He hesitates outside, unsure. He wants to apologize, but how? With the ghouls, arguments could be explosive but were settled just as quickly. Offering physical reassurance like back rubs or cuddles paired with an apology was enough to smooth most things over. But would that work for you?

Dew knew that humans could be quite skilled at holding grudges and he didn’t want to risk making the situation any worse. Were you someone that preferred to scream it out or did you need space? He’d obviously hit a raw nerve. Was it too late to make it up?

For better or worse, his need to act takes over and he finds himself knocking on your office door. Immediately he curses, already regretting his impulsiveness.

Inside, you’re sitting at your desk, head in hands. You rub at your eyes, wiping away the tears. You’d already been having a bad day, why did Dew have to go and make it worse? You know he didn’t really mean it. He often said whatever was on his mind but not with the intention of hurting anyone. At least not you. He’d been looking to get a rise out of you to start an easy teasing match. Nothing more. Today though, it was the last straw that pushed your tears over the edge.

When you hear the knock, you stand and brush yourself off. You figured another sibling, clergy member, or even Sister Imperator needed something. It wouldn't do to look a mess in front of them. You open the door and are none too happy to see your current pain in the ass darkening your doorway. To his credit, Dew looks quite remorseful. Still, you have to fight the urge to slam the door in his face.

“What do you want?” You spit.

Dew can’t seem to get his tongue working. You almost do slam the door before he rushes forward and wraps his arms around you. Shock takes the place of your anger.

“Dew?”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He whispers. The ghoul seemed to have gathered his courage. “I-it was meant to be a joke. You don’t look bad. I mean, you’re gorgeous and-! Uh…shit.”

You both balk. You at the unexpected compliment. Dew upon realizing that he indeed just called you gorgeous. Out loud. To your face.

“D-Dew?” You sputter. He just buries his blushing face in your chest. “Lord below, Dewdrop!”

He glances up, looking remarkably like a scolded puppy.

“It’s okay! You just caught me at a bad time. Uh…umm…”

“I’m sorry!” He says again as he steps back stiffly. “Eh, are you doing okay?” He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at the floor.

You sigh, and some of the friendly sass you employ with him creeps into your voice. “You serious?” When he blanches you add. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean. Ugh…no, not really.” Tears prick at your eyes all over again. You hurry to wipe them away, but Dew stops you.

“It’s okay. Let it out.” He soothes, remembering what Cumulus says to comfort him sometimes. He even manages to sound calm, although his expression betrays his panic. He gulps and does the one thing he knows to do and hugs you again.

This time you lean into the hug and allow yourself to cry. Dew just holds you as you sob. You feel him crank up his body heat and the warmth soothes you.

“Shh. It’s okay.” He purrs in your ear. He starts rubbing your back, the physical reassurance seeming to be helping.

Eventually he lets go, only to guide you to the love seat along the wall. You let him steer you over and you sit. As soon as you do, he perches beside you and resumes rubbing your back. You rest your head on his shoulder and he nuzzles the top of your head.

Your tears begin to peter out and your breathing slows and deepens. Once you can speak again, you hum, “Gorgeous huh?”

Dew squeaks. “I-uh-well-”

“You’re not bad looking yourself Firefly.” You sit up to peck him on the cheek. You roll your eyes as his gray cheeks turn lavender. “Also, you make a really good pillow.” You lay down and rest your head in Dew’s lap. He starts to play with your hair and massage your scalp. The feeling of his claws lightly scratching your head has you yawning.

“It’s okay. You can sleep.” He hums.

You know you have work to do, but you’re so tired. “Mmm.” You close your eyes.

Across the abbey, the rest of the ghouls are organizing a search party. The reason? No one has seen hide nor hair of Dew for at least thirty minutes, so of course he’s up to something. Probably arson. Aether starts to pace. After “the incident” it had become an unspoken rule that someone must always know where Dew is and what he’s up to, at all times. Neither Swiss nor Sunny, Dew’s usual partners in crime, have any clue where he is. Aether is getting worried.

Not wanting to invoke Sister Imperator's wrath on the basis of something expensive being destroyed, the ghouls split up to search the ministry. It’s Rain who finds Dew, or rather both of you. He regroups everyone to tell them. When none of them believe him, they all return to your office.

“Aww!” Sunny coos pointing at you and Dew. You’re fast asleep in his lap. He’s been resting his eyes, head leaned back against the wall.

“Told you.” Rain grins.

“So there you are.” Aether shakes his head and smiles.

“Somebody take a picture.” Mountain chuckles.

“Will you all shut it?” Dew hisses, gesturing at you. You start to stir and Dew glowers at his pack mates.

Aether rolls his eyes and walks over. He gently pats your shoulder before sliding his hands under your back to help you sit up. “C'mon. Let's get the two of you to bed.”

Dew doesn’t stop grumbling about the interruption until the two of you are firmly ensconced in the center of a ghoul pile on the common room floor.

“This has gotta be more comfortable than the wall.” You reason. Ensconced in pillows, blankets and the warmth of the purring ghouls around you, you're already drifting off again.

Dew relents and nods. “Yeah.”

You snuggle into his chest and he holds you in his arms tighter.

“Love you Dew.”

He kisses your forehead. “Love you too Y/N.”

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The Bystander Effect

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/z8rPGSY by cyan13 Danny knew one thing, that where ever she was, Lady Luck was laughing at him somewhere. She had mentioned before that fate was never set in stone, that he might have been a different person, a different fate. He didn't really get that untill the GIW got there hands on him. He was stuck there for years, wishing that someone could help get him out. But getting rescued by a group of oddly dressed teens, getting recuited to join there team, and then adopted by none other than the freaking bat? Not on his 20XX bingo card. ~~ Bystander Effect: studied back in the 1960s, it is an effect that if you see something happening to someone, but there are other people around you, you think someone else will take care of it. But if you are asked by that person, you will react. ~~ All the Young Justice team knew going in, was this branch of the government was breaking so many Meta laws it was not funny. They just had to get in, get the information, and get out. But nothing about recon was ever easy for this group. Not when they find a Meta who looks like he got turned into a pin cushion. They couldn't just sit back and let an innocent teenager get hurt. Words: 1904, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Young Justice (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Other Characters: Danny Fenton, Members of the Team (Young Justice), Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Jazz Fenton, Team Phantom - Character, Batfamily Members (DCU) Relationships: Danny Fenton & Members of the Team (Young Justice), Members of the Team (Young Justice) & Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Danny Fenton, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Jazz Fenton, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Danielle "Dani" Phantom Additional Tags: Tired Danny Fenton, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Set Between Young Justice Season 1 and Season 2, tried team phantom, Good Sibling Jazz Fenton, Danielle "Dani" Phantom is Called Ellie, Danny Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Phantom are Siblings, Danny Fenton and Dick Grayson are Siblings, mostly young justice, Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, side note clark kent does adopt connor, young justice team all have good parents, except taskmaster and aqualads dad they are idiots, Guys in White | GIW Capture Danny Fenton, Hurt Danny Fenton, Bruce Wayne Adopts Danny Fenton read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/z8rPGSY

[youwouldntlietopapa]

In Sickness and in Health

Rating: 18+

Features: Secondo x OC (Ophelia), Papa I/Primo

Tags: anxiety, sick character, comfort, domestic fluff, personal growth

(Also available on AO3)

______________________________________________________

“I’m very sorry, Papa. She’s not in the office today.”

Secondo scowled down at the Sister he’d interrupted shelving books and then over at Ophelia’s locked office door. He hadn’t heard from or seen her since the day before which was very unusual for her. Unusual enough to catch his notice. Not that there were so many people he spoke to as regularly or as often. Still, it had become routine for her to join him in the evening, but the previous evening she’d turned in early. Exhausted, she’d said, and apologised a few times. Even sending a text when she’d gotten back to her quarters. He might have written it off as a lie, but she’d never been the type to resort to that when the truth was just as easy. Besides, he’d seen her. She’d come to tell him in person that she wouldn’t be there and looked every bit as tired as she’d said. Though she had waved away his concern. 

“I just need sleep. I’ll be alright in the morning.” She’d said. “I don’t want to drag you to bed so early just for me. You told me there’s a game on late tonight and I’m not going to be the reason you miss it.”

What she’d been too tactful to say was that he tended to shout at the tv when there was a football match on. That if it wasn’t him shouting, it would be Terzo next door. Assuming Terzo didn’t invite himself over, which - admittedly, he had. Secondo couldn’t even argue. All he could do was send her off to sleep with promises he would see her the next day. 

When she hadn’t appeared by lunch, his worry got the best of him.

“She called out sick.”

His head snapped back around to look at her. “Sick?”

“Yes, Papa.” The Sister flinched a little. “That’s what the calendar said. I can double check if you like.”

“No. Grazie, Sorella.” He turned on his heel and marched out of the library without another word. 

The halls were relatively quiet. Most of the Siblings were still in the dining hall eating, though it was starting to thin. People clearing away their dishes and slowly filtering out, headed back to their duties for the day. Secondo didn’t take much notice of any of them. Too lost in his thoughts and set on the path to Ophelia’s quarters. Chastising himself for prioritising a stupid game over her, for not doing more when he’d seen that she wasn’t well. He’d been more concerned about sleeping without her there than for the reasons she’d gone back to her own bed. 

But then, when had there ever been anyone he’d cared enough to worry over if they were sick? His brothers, maybe. Apart from them, it had always seemed like someone else’s problem and nothing to do with him. Not that it changed how he felt. The guilt was still there, and the worry. Along with something even more confusing - an earnest, overwhelming need to make sure she was taken care of. 

Maybe I am losing my mind, he thought.

……

The Sibling’s wing was even quieter than the main building. There weren’t many people not occupied with duties elsewhere during the day. The end of the hall where the most senior of them had quarters was especially quiet. Set away from the bulk of the foot traffic and empty throughout the day. Ophelia’s own room among them. 

It was strange to stand in front of her door, for so long she’d been coming to his. He stood and stared at the bronze number nailed to the wood, wondering if it was overstepping. If, maybe, it wasn’t the thing to do. She hadn’t messaged, after all, or called. Was it better to wait for her to ask for help? Secondo huffed out a breath and shook his head. She was sick. He was working on being better. Rules be damned. 

He knocked, softly. “Ophelia? Posso entrare?”

For a moment it seemed as though she wasn’t in, and for half a heartbeat he started to panic that the lack of response was a sign of something much worse. But, from the other side of the door, there was the rustling of bedding. Followed by a raspy cough and the slow, shuffling steps from the bed to the door. The bolt slid open and the door swung back enough for one bloodshot, exhausted looking eye to stare up at him. 

“Secondo?” Her voice wheezed and cracked. Opening the door fully for him. “Is… is something wrong?”

She looked… awful. Not that he planned to say that out loud. He could be a bit blunt, even at the best of times. But he knew enough to not look at a woman and tell her she looks like shit. “I come to find you for lunch. They tell me you are sick. But I don’t hear from you.”

Ophelia frowned, confused, and shook her head. “No, no. I’m sure I messaged you this morning. I didn’t want you to worry.” She shuffled back toward her night stand, sniffling, to check her phone. “See? It’s right… Shit.” She held out the phone for him before dropping back down onto the bed. 

Secondo slipped his reading glasses out of his pocket, looking down at the glowing screen. 

[I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to join you for lunch. Woke up sick and I feel awful. I’ll call you this evening, I promise.]

A simple and clear message, certainly. The only problem - it was sitting in the message box, waiting for her to hit send. He chuckled softly and looked down at her with a sympathetic smile. “Well, it is proof that you don’t feel so good this morning, no?”

“I could have sworn I sent it.” Her voice sounded painful and she stared back at him sadly. “I’m so sorry. I put the phone down and fell back to sleep. I never meant to leave you waiting.”

“Ophelia.” There was something stern in his tone, gentle as it was. Sitting down beside her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Of course I know this. I don’t come here to be angry. I come because I hear you are sick and I want to help.”

“I’m all right. Really. I just need to sleep it off.” She leaned against him. For all her protests, he could feel her melting into the warmth of being held. The way she always did. Comfortable there with him in that way that made his heart ache.

“Then I take you with me and make sure you get sleep.”

Ophelia looked up at him, foggy mind trying to work through what he meant. “Secondo, no. I’ll only get you sick too.”

He smirked. “Night before last, you are in my bed, Fay. And yesterday, in the morning. If I get sick from you, I already catch it.” Secondo ducked down to kiss her forehead, too warm with fever. “Too late for worries. So, you come with me, or I stay here.”

The sound she made was probably a laugh, but it was hard to tell through the congestion and the rawness of her throat. “We both know the beds in this wing will murder your back.”

“Si. Ho dormito su di loro per anni. Come pensi che la mia schiena sia diventata così brutta?”

“I thought that was from carrying the entire Ministry.” Her crooked smile was weak, but even being sick couldn’t dim the fire in her eyes completely.

Secondo laughed, kissing her forehead again. “It can be two things, I think. But, if I don’t stay here, there is only one option.”

In the end, it took another ten minutes of haggling and convincing to get her to agree. He still wasn’t sure who this man was, so set on taking care of her that he wouldn’t even accept the out she handed him. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find it in himself to simply walk away. Instead, he found her phone charger, phone, and wrapped her in her robe. Scooping her up and letting her settle against his chest for the walk to his own apartment. 

There would be siblings in the halls. And ghouls. And senior clergy. He knew that for a fact. With the same certainty that he knew there wasn’t a private way to go between her quarters and his. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Audience be damned. It wasn’t as if the rumours didn’t run rampant anyway. Bored Siblings always loved a bit of gossip. That had been true longer than he’d been around and it would stay true long after he was gone. Moreover, it had honestly been a long while since he’d considered anything between them a secret. Maybe it wasn’t what the Ministry would call official, but it was hardly news. The only real revelation to anyone who cared to look might be that he was, evidently, the type to carry his sick partner across the Abbey and to bed. 

Of all the rumours he’d heard about himself over the years, that didn’t even make the top twenty. 

“Is there anything else you need?”

She shook her head, already getting drowsy again. “Ho solo bisogno di te.”

“Hai me, Ophelia.” He hugged her a little closer, holding her protectively, and stepped out into the hall. Following the route back to his own rooms, barely looking where he was going. He knew the halls and corridors of the Abbey well enough to make the trip blindfolded. 

……

Secondo’s quarters were quiet and dark. He’d drawn all the blinds as soon as he’d gotten Ophelia settled in bed. Moving like a spectre around the space, bare feet barely making a sound on the plush rug. Sending a message he’d rarely ever sent - cancelling the rest of his day, and the next. Meetings, bureaucracy, paperwork - it could all wait. Finally he shed his robes and cleaned off his paints, even if it felt strange to be without them so early in the day.  Though it did make the separation between his work and his home more clear and, right then, Ophelia didn’t need Papa. She needed him.

He tugged on a pair of sweats she had expressed an obvious fondness for and sat on the edge of the bed, gently tucking her hair behind her ear. It was a curious thing, looking at her like that. So far from the Ophelia he knew best -smiling in that easy way and eager to be close. Instead she seemed so much smaller and delicate. The corner of her mouth turned up in a weak attempt at a smile, looking up at him with a glazed expression. Her hand reached for his, as always, but her grip on him was shaky in a way that made him worry more. 

Only the medication, he reminded himself. There had been a bottle of something that was a most alarming shade of green, for cough and cold, on her night stand. She’d confirmed herself that she’d taken it. The major effect, he’d gathered, was the drowsiness that clung to her tightly. It’s only that and nothing more.

“You want for me to bring water?” He asked softly, leaning down to kiss her temple. 

Ophelia nodded, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry… I never meant for this to be your problem.”

“No. No sorry. Not for this. I get you some water, you sleep. Later, if you want, we run a bath. Si?”

“Si.” She sighed and looked up at him again, a hint of that teasing smile only just shining through. “Quando sei diventato così dolce?”

“Ho un ottimo insegnante.” Secondo lifted her hand, kissing her fingers. “Are you hungry?”

“No, thank you. Maybe later?” She said apologetically. 

“Later. But later I insist. You need to eat, tesoro, or you don’t feel better.”

Ophelia’s eyes slid closed and her grip on his hand loosened as she nodded off again. “Promise…”

……

“Fratellino.” Primo answered and he could hear the smirk in his voice. “How can I help you?”

Secondo sighed heavily, trying to swallow his pride. “Are you going to say what you know first, or you want me to tell you just to make me say myself?”

His older brother hummed thoughtfully, the sound of a pot being dragged across his workbench in the greenhouse was clear enough in the background. “I hear you are gone for the day. And tomorrow. Is unlike you, Secondo. I hope you don’t call to tell me you are dying. At least come here and tell me in person, no?”

“Primo.” He huffed. Why did he always have to make it more difficult? “Are you finished?”

He chuckled softly, never able to resist teasing. “I hear too you are carrying siblings through the halls now. Is it only siblings or do I book you for later? My feet are tired, fratellino, and is a long walk back inside.”

“Ophelia is sick.” Secondo said bluntly. 

“Ah, si. Your… companion.” Every time she’d come up, Primo took his time deciding on what title to give her. A compromise after promising not to lecture him on his relationship. Not that he was sure this was much better. “You are… taking care of her?”

“Si.”

“Because she is sick?”

“Si.”

“She asks you?”

“Primo.” He snapped. “She is here. She is sick. I am taking care. Alright? Puoi semplicemente accettarlo per ora, per favore?”

“Alright. Alright. I only tease. Tell me what is the problem.” Primo answered calmly, unfazed as always. 

The decision to call suddenly felt foolish. Like he was still the little boy who needed reassurances from the closest thing to a father he’d ever really known. Scared to trust anyone and just as scared to let go of his older brother’s robes. But what else was there to do? Primo would know. Primo always knew. And he was just stumbling in the dark, wondering why he thought he was the right person to take care of anyone at all. “... I hope, maybe, you have something to help. I ask her and she takes medicine this morning. But it only makes her tired. If she is sleeping, she doesn’t eat or drink. I don’t like it.”

There was a pause before Primo answered. Long enough that he started to pace. “... Forgive me, Secondo.” 

He frowned, confused. “Perché?”

“I tease. I don’t think first and I tease. When you are worried for her.”

“I don’t need apologies. I need only something to give her so she feels better.” He shoved away the implications of his brother’s apology. 

Primo sighed the way he always did when it wasn’t worth the fight. “Sick how?”

“Febbre. La sua gola sembra irritata. Congestionato e tosse.” The words came easier when he could stick to the facts, not that he cared to dwell on why. “Le ho chiesto se ha fame ma non vuole niente in questo momento.”

“E adesso dorme?”

“Si.”

“I will be there soon.” He said finally, ending the call without another word. 

Secondo tucked his phone in his pocket and looked back into the bedroom. He needed to get the water he’d promised and the urge to climb into bed with her had become a persistent itch in his mind that he couldn’t quite reach. If Primo was coming, however, it needed to wait. He wouldn’t dare risk disturbing her by getting into bed only to have to get right back out. Until that visit was over, he needed to content himself with collecting a pitcher, a glass, and then pacing the living room until there was a knock at the door. 

His eyes drifted from Ophelia, fast asleep, to the unblinking eyes of the onyx Baphomet staring at him from his personal altar. Standing in front of the carefully arranged collection, he let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding all day, finally loosening his shoulders and his jaw. Carefully clearing away the ashes of the incense from the night before, a fresh cone took its place. The woody, spiced scent sank into his bones as it drifted slowly around him, easing his mind. At least, there, he knew who he was. He knew his place, the right words, the rules.

This has never been my purpose, my lord. I’m not the one they come to for comfort and care. No one… except her. And now… I’ve taken on this task that I am not prepared for. This is not who I am… is it? She has handed me her trust, again, and if I break it… I am your loyal servant. I will speak your word to the masses every day you allow me. I will be the shepherd for your flock. I will do as you bid, always. But this… please, my lord… I need guidance. 

The standard prayer he knew by heart, without thinking at all. It followed his personal plea, whispered under his breath. Closing his eyes and letting the ritual of it ground him. 

“Nema.”

__________________________________________________

Posso entrare? = Can I come in?

Si. Ho dormito su di loro per anni. Come pensi che la mia schiena sia diventata così brutta? = Yes. I slept on them for years. How do you think my back got so bad?

Ho solo bisogno di te. = I only need you.

Hai me, Ophelia. = You have me, Ophelia.

Quando sei diventato così dolce? = When did you get so sweet?

Ho un ottimo insegnante. = I have a very good teacher.

Fratellino = Little brother

Puoi semplicemente accettarlo per ora, per favore? = Can you just accept that for now, please?

Perché? = Why?

Febbre. La sua gola sembra irritata. Congestionato e tosse. = Fever. Her throat sounds irritated. Congested and coughing.

Le ho chiesto se ha fame ma non vuole niente in questo momento. - I asked if she's hungry but she doesn't want anything right now.

E adesso dorme? = And she is sleeping now?

[noirshitsuji]

AO3 Stats tag game

Thank you for the tag @queer-cosette!

Rules: check your AO3 stats and answer each question with the correct fic!

Turns out all of mine are Miraculous Laydbug,,, which,,, not much of a plot twist, but yes.

Most Hits:

les illuminations en douche et d'autres miracles pubères (9,229 hits total)

Shower epiphanies and other pubescent miracles: of Marichat, emotional teenage delinquency, adults' questionable understanding of how the world works or should work, political power play, investigations, reveals, memes, half-baked meta, and the first-ever Save Nooroo Foundation (that the author is aware of). Or, simply put: canon on crack, featuring Adrien “romantic pro-gamer” Agreste, Marinette ”Schroedinger’s Very Tired™ friend” Dupain-Cheng, Gabriel “you don't need the two most powerful objects in the universe, you just need a therapist” Agreste, Plagg and Tikki “five more minutes of this and they'll be throwing hands with the Meta Consciousness for putting them here" the kwamis, and many, many more.

Main relationships: Lovesquare, DJWIFI (morphing into Chloninya), unhinged Gabenath, and team dynamics

Second most kudos:

I Know What You Did in the Cat-acombs - collab fic w/ @galahadwilder, @maggies-scribblings, and @veebeejeebies (366 kudos total)

Two part-time superheroes get lost in the creepy catacombs, but spooky skeletons, rabid rats and akuma apparitions are the least of their problems. Written for the @mlwritersguild's October 2020 Event, for the prompt 'Haunted House'.

Main relationship: Lovesquare/Adrienette main

Third most comments:

i'm just so bad at things i don't understand (20 comment threads total)

Human!AU. Tikki and Plagg are childhood friends who fell apart following a tragedy at their hometown in Normandy, but one day Plagg walks into her confiture shop in Paris asking for her help and she finds herself unable to refuse him. Working out their own ghosts is not their only problem, though, not when the son of Paris' most infamous fashion magnate runs away and collides with them. *** She regrets it. Of course she regrets it: yesterday she got blinded by the image of the boy she used to know, the one who lived on the dairy farm just outside of Saintévie with his dad and their workers and no siblings and thus no friends to speak of at all, not until he’d met her and the rest of them, at least. He was always a shadow, though, and they’d all told him as much once and he’d jokingly replied that there was only one sun he’d ever want to be cast off from but wouldn’t tell them which, and it hurts her to think he might have meant– Maybe shadows are the burns suns never get to inflict upon the land, Tikki thinks, but if they have no sun to follow, their tendrils turn into annihilating flames. Maybe this is why the fire started.

Main relationships: Plagg/Tikki, Plagg & Adrien & Tikki, Tikki & Marinette, Adrienette

Fourth most bookmarks:

well somewhere along the way in our words i must've gotten lost (45 bookmarks total)

Written for a blog request for the @mlwritersguild: Beelya where Queen Bee visits the Césaire house after Alya writes an article about her fighting Mr. Pigeon alone. Normally Chloé would like the publicity but Alya had titled it ‘The Birds and the Bees’. After that she ends up coming back to complain about her mother. And her father. And about the fact that her oldest friend seems uncomfortable around her. Her visits becomes weekly, then almost nightly. (Don’t forget to include Chloé redemption (and some “Bee Movie” jokes).) * Alya isn’t quite sure how she ended up here, in a place where she isn’t even surprised Chloé would seek her out to talk about her dad, where she wouldn’t even mind her doing so, where she would expect it, where she would– (–thud. She might be in trouble.)

Main relationships: Alya/Chloe, Team Miraculous

Fifth most words:

tried to touch you but you're cutthroat (stay to see it unfold) (4,426 words total; technically #2 in this list is the fifth longest, but I thought I'd discounted in the interest of showcasing more stuff)

If you scratch your claws against enough things, eventually everything around you's gonna give. It's not science. It's what being a Cat Wielder is. Some of them just learn it the hard way. (Or: The life and times of Chloe Bourgeois.)

Main relationships: Chloe/Luka, Team Miraculous (AU - Black Cat!Chloe and Ladybug!Luka)

Least words:

Similarly to Coco, my shortest is also a Valentines Day drabble for the @mlwritersguild event last year.

too much could be an overdose (100 words total)

Main relationship: Adrino

Tagging all the people in #2 and whoever else wants to do this!

[cavalierious-whim]

Years out on the job feels like forever to Childe but nothing boosts morale like a good 'ole orgy.

CW: Bottom!Childe, Top!Vlad, Top!Andrei, Top!Ekaterina, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Orgy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Rough Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Anal Penetration, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Strap-Ons, Pegging, Creampie, Anal Gaping, Praise Kink, Begging, Teasing, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Crying During Sex, Rimming, Multiple Partners, Multiple Orgasms, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism

Read here on AO3 for better quality and full tags.

It is strange how quickly the decades pass when one is a dubiously inclined Fatui Agent with the title of Harbinger. 

Childe reigns a sort of chaos that would take most an entire life to perfect. For him, it comes naturally, dripping from his being and chasing his heels as he sweeps through nations causing mischief. It’s his job, to bring mayhem as he lays down the law for his beloved Tsaritsa. All to become a god, to see that blessed Celestia and ascend to a higher plane.

It hasn’t happened yet, but there’s faith, and so wherever the Tsaritsa sends him he goes. 

But, as the years crawl that dream grows a little sour. He’s tired and sore, his joints aching, heart a little lonely whenever he’s far away from home. His siblings are grown. Only his mother is left. There’s still Ekaterina, sweet Ekaterina who definitely doesn’t get paid enough to handle his bullshit. 

The bitterness stings. Childe is unsatisfied in so many ways, but it’s the physical things that tend to linger in his mind. Random fucks with nameless faces take the edge off well enough but there’s something to be said about the comfort of returning home. 

His campfire blazes but the night air is too frozen for the cold not to seep in. The ground is hard against his ass and he doesn’t look forward to his thin bedroll, rolled out over the thick permafrost. Soon, he thinks. He’ll have a bed and real, warm food soon enough. 

But, for now—the opening of his trousers. His hand drags across his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs before dipping lower. He groans, the tight grasp of his fingers not entirely terrible. He strokes his cock to full hardness, sighing at that pleasure he drags from his gut. 

It’s short. Quick. He comes all over his hand with a grunt, toes curling in his boots. Once the moment dies down, Childe’s only left with cooling come in his hand and dissatisfaction as his hole clenches, painfully empty. “Well,” he murmurs, “it’s something, I guess.”

Sleep comes better this time, at least.

#

It isn’t home, but Childe manages to meet up with a slew of his subordinates in a quiet village he won’t remember the name of later. 

The nostalgia hits full force the moment he has Vlad’s cock in hand, the veiny girth familiar as Childe’s fingers tighten around it. “Oh, that’s—boss.” Childe would laugh if he weren’t so desperate for it, leaning forward, his tongue sticking out, ready for a taste. The tang of sweat assaults his nose. The taste is salty but he laps at the tip, sliding his tongue through the precome that drips freely. 

Behind him is Andrei who’s already tugged Childe’s trousers down to free his ass. His hands are still rough, manhandling his asscheeks as he spreads them for a better look. Childe leans against Vlad, straddling his waist, jutting his backside out for easier access.

Andrei sweeps his thumb across his hole and Childe feels the way that he clenches in anticipation. It’s been too long, too too long since he’s been properly fucked in the way that he likes—which is to be drowning in cocks and cunts. Fucked and filled by his men, those devout in their loyalty, who praise him and put him on a pedestal because he’s not just their boss, he’s the Eleventh.

It’s a privilege to fuck him, to see him like this, stripped away, hard and wanting, begging for more. It’s been too long. Childe sucks at Vlad’s cock, tongue swirling around the tip. It flattens against the underside and he slides down until he’s choking, the tip of Vlad’s dick nudging the back of his throat. 

“Fuck,” hisses Vlad. Fingers curl into Childe’s hair, tugging until his scalp burns. “Sir.”

Childe sputters around him, drooling wet and slick around Vlad’s length. Spittle pools, making a mess of his mouth, but he doesn’t care. Childe just moans, eyes fluttering closed as he bobs along the dick, sucking, dragging his tongue around to trace veins and searing hot skin.

Behind him, Andrei shifts, dipping low, biting the smooth muscle of Childe’s ass. A tongue over his hole, wet. Hesitant. It prods at his rim slowly but insistently. Childe huffs, pressing back. “More,” he demands. “Too fucking slow. Come on, get to it.”

“Uh—yes, sir.” Andrei doubles his efforts, spreading Childe’s asscheeks wide to dive in properly. 

“And you—” murmurs Childe, kissing the tip of Vlad’s cock. “Fuck my throat like you mean it.” 

This time, Vlad slips into his mouth with a deep, stuttering thrust. And then another, hard enough to knock the breath loose. Childe moans, suckling him messily, moving along his length to meet every roll, mouth wide and compliant. 

Andrei drenches his fingers in oil, slipping one in alongside his tongue. And then another because he knows that Childe will demand more and faster. The sting feels amazing, the sharp pleasure-pain that burns through him as Andrei stretches him at a clipped pace.

Others around the room jack off to the sight, moans and murmurs falling from their throats as they watch their boss get railed into oblivion. This is how it’s always been. Team building, Childe used to joke back when they were younger and needed morale. Ekaterina is a goddess when it comes to carving out times and places to make it work. In keeping mouths shut under the threat of rumor. What happens in these debauched orgies stays here, lest you want the edge of her blade, which no one is willing to risk. 

“Gods, I’ve missed this,” whines Vlad, fucking Childe’s mouth, balls slapping against his chin. “Boss, you’ve always been— Ah.” 

Andrei fucks him three fingers now, watching as he digs into his ass, rim stretching as he works Childe open. Other familiar faces and cocks, names that escape him because Childe’s too deep into his lust to give it much thought. He moans, choking around Vlad’s cock, nostrils flaring as he tries to breathe. Tears prick his eyes. His chest burns from the lack of oxygen. 

He’s drunk on the lust, the pleasure, the way that these cocks stretch his mouth and his hole. Not enough. Not— Childe groans, pulling back, looking at Vlad with a teary-eyed and wet gaze. Vlad still wears his mask, graying around his temples but is handsome enough. His cock will still please, buried in his ass. 

Childe moves, pressing Vlad back into the sheets until his back is flush with the mattress. He turns, facing away, hips hovering over Vlad’s straining dick. “Slick it,” he demands. Andrei’s quick to action, pouring oil over his hand, jerking Vlad’s cock. Another pitiful moan bubbles from Vlad’s lips. 

“Sir,” says Andrei, pressing Childe’s thighs wide and the tip of the cock right to Childe’s hole. Childe drops his hips, hole parting around the tip until it pops in like an old friend. Vlad hisses, hips jerking, toes curling in the bed. Childe slams down the rest of the way, forcing his cock deep until his ass meets Vlad’s thighs. 

Andrei’s eyes are glued between Childe’s thighs, watching as he stuffs himself full of dick. Licks his lips, eyes wide, half-leaning forward. Andrei palms his own cock, long and slightly curved as his fingers gloss over the wet tip.

“Are you just going to sit there?” asks Childe. “You’ve never been one to just watch.” He leans back against Vlad, holding himself up on a strained elbow. Spreads his thighs wide, fingers split around his aching dick. It twitches. Leaks all over his stomach in slick tendrils.

Andrei swallows, throat bobbing as he just stares. “Right, yeah, uh—Okay.” He closes the space between them, nuzzling the length of Childe’s cock. Soft kisses. The drag of his tongue. Andrei knows just what Childe likes, and they fall into the familiar feel of his as he wraps his mouth around Childe’s dick. 

“Fuck,” his Childe, a hand curling around Andrei’s head. His mouth is hot and tight as he sucks. Back and forth as he bobs, just like Vlad’s thrusts as he fucks Childe’s ass. “Gods, so good.”

Andrei moans around him, soaking up the praise. 

Vlad hisses, the strokes of his cock hard and stuttering. “Tight as ever, boss,” murmurs. “Even after all this time. Just like always, even back then. Hah, just—”

Childe feels himself hurtling towards his end alarmingly fast. The press of the cock, deep and thick in his ass. The way that Andrei tries to suck his soul out through the tip of his dick. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter until Childe is drowning in it, head tipped back, half-lidded, and lost. He grinds against Vlad, forcing his cock deeper. Fucks into Andrei’s mouth, pulling his head down until he’s sputtering around him. 

It still isn’t enough, it still—so close, but—

“More,” he cries out, rolling his hips, trying to get as much friction as he possibly can. He’s still too empty, wants too much. To be filled, to be splattered in white come from everyone else who touches themselves in the room. 

Andrei drops a finger, smoothing it over Childe’s rim where it’s stretched around Vlad’s length. It slides through the oil and presses in, dragging through Childe’s squirming insides alongside the dick already inside. Childe gasps, twitching, cursing for more. Another finger is added, and then another until Andrei’s fucking him with Vlad’s dick, stretching Childe’s hole for more.

This too, is nostalgic, being stretched to his absolute limits. Childe loves how he can lose himself like this, punch-drunk in a haze as everything else melts away. In this room, he’s no longer a Harbinger, he’s just a boss, and his men want to please him. Take care of him, ease him into some sort of peace and comfort. 

Childe whines. “Please,” he begs, his voice a harsh whisper as he meets the press of those fingers and cock, demanding more. “Gods, just, please. I need—I need it. Fuck me, the both of you.”

When Andrei pulls out his fingers, it’s a loss. Childe’s ass feels loose, sloppy, far too empty. Andrei is too slow, taking his time to slick his cock, thumbing around Childe’s swollen rim, watching it struggle. He slips a thumb in and pulls, just slightly, enough to make room to nudge the head of his cock in. 

It’s a slow glide. Andrei rubs circles into Childe’s thigh as he slides his cock in. “Come on boss, relax. Yeah, yeah—just like that. Oh, oh—” 

The sound the Childe moans is inhuman. He’s chock full, past the point of brimming, both of the cocks unbearably wide as they bully his insides. Vlad presses in and Andrei pulls back. Then they swap, fucking into him with alternating thrusts. Childe’s face is wet with tears, gasping, fingers digging into the bed as he tries to hold on. He goes slack against Vlad, just taking it, eyes rolling back as the others fuck him until his only thoughts are how much he wants to come.

“Oh, oh, Tsaritsa—” A particularly rough drag of Andrei’s dick pulls across Childe’s prostate. Childe yelps. He keens. Pushes back against them, his cock twitching, bobbing against his stomach. All the while Andrei is still murmuring, still rubbing those damned circles into the inside of his thighs. 

“Harder, fuck, just—” Childe wheezes, eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck me harder.”

They do, rutting against him with an even pace. Childe drops his hips, seeking out more, chasing the orgasm that he hovers on the edge of. 

And then, a hand, soft against his face, unlike the calloused palms of most of his men. Childe cracks an eye open. “Nadia,” he whispers, taking in her sweet face, sans the mask because she’s more sentimental. 

 The mattress dips underneath her knee and she swings herself over him, straddling his face. She pets Childe’s hair, her nails scraping his scalp, soothing in a strange way, wholly different than Vlad and Andrei’s attention. “My lord,” she says, mostly a tease. 

Her cunt hovers over him, wet and glistening, clit hard as it peeks out from its hood. She spreads herself, dripping around her fingers as she slips two fingers inside to show just how good ready she is. 

Childe paws at her ass, pulling her close until her cunt is suffocating him. He laps at her sex, tongue sliding over every fold and crevice, drowning in her heady taste. She leaks, flooding his face, and Childe does his best to swallow it all down.

Stuffed beyond full below, his ass clenching around both cocks. Eating Nadia out, tongue circling around her clit, tugging it into his mouth to suckle. She moans, riding his face, rolling her hips to drag her cunt across his mouth and nose. Childe bites at her, a soft nibble, his teeth grazing that nub at the apex of her sex until she’s gasping his name, thighs tight around his cheeks. 

Andrei thrusts into him roughly, hiking Childe’s thighs up. Vlad groans, both at the tight heat, and the way that Andrei’s cock drags beside his, ever alternating as they fuck Childe in tandem. 

Childe moans, gasps, cries out, and curses. Everything in his being is white-hot and taut as the pleasure just builds and builds. Nadia against his mouth and the sweet tang of her cunt. Andrei and Vlad, murmuring his name, fucking him within an inch of his life. 

The blurred images of the rest of his men, hands on their cocks, wet and slick sounds as they fuck their hands. Even Ekaterina, three fingers pressed into herself as she rides her hand, locking gazes with Nadia and biting her lip. All it takes is for Nadia to reach back and grasp Childe’s cock. One quick stroke and he’s coming, making a mess as he spills white everywhere, painting his stomach, Nadia’s ass, her hand—

Then he’s overstimulated, pulled long and thin as Andrei fucks him through it. Vlad lays there, grinding slowly, too tired and spent to raise his hips—but Andrei fucks him in earnest until Childe’s a mewling mess, sobbing into Nadia’s cunt. 

Vlad comes first, groaning as wet warmth fills Childe’s ass. It spurs Andrei on, fingers digging into Childe’s asscheeks as he fucks into the wetness, tipping over the edge shortly after. 

Meanwhile, Nadia still rides Childe’s face, two of his fingers buried into her cunt. He fucks them in, dragging across the fluttering muscles of her sopping insides, and she ruts against his mouth, over and over until she too, is crying out.

Childe drowns, in the high of his orgasm, in Nadia’s slick that seeps from her folds, in the soft words of Andrei and Vlad as pause, catching their breaths.  They’re all a little too old for this sort of thing but they needed it, all of them. Morale boosting indeed, only this time Childe just wanted a piece of home. 

Andrei slides his cock out. Childe feels the rush of come that gushes out. When Vlad pulls out next, Childe feels bereft, the emptiness and satisfied soreness sinking into his chest. He moans. Kisses Nadia’s clit before he helps her off of him. She pets through his hair as she settles to the side. 

“Wait, lay down,” he says, coaxing her against the mattress once Vlad climbs off. Childe crawls over her, on his hands and knees, and nuzzles the inside of her thigh before kissing it. “Surely you aren’t done? You must want one more. One isn’t enough, one isn’t—”

Childe pauses, spreading his thighs again, tossing a look over his shoulder. He wants another orgasm, wants to spend himself until he’s coming dry. His eyes lock onto Katya who smirks back, already digging through her bag as though she’s read his mind. 

She probably has. There isn’t a person in the world who knows him better than she does, all the years she’s spent fussing over him. “Sir,” she says quietly, kneeling on the bed behind him. The leather harness digs into her skin, pulling at her plush thighs until they’re bulging around the straps. 

There’s something to be said about a more mature woman. Childe’s throat goes dry as she strokes that fake cock that lays thick between her thighs. “I was saving this for Nadia, you know. But, the thought of fucking you instead, watching the way you squirm on my cock—”

“Katya, please.”

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I always do, don’t I?” She spreads his cheeks, sweeping her thumb through his drenched and loose hole, watching how come leaks out. He whines as she plays with his swollen rim, pressing her thumb in, testing how loose he is. “Poor thing,” she croons. 

Katya is wicked with her cock. She presses the tip in, watching the way his hole swallows it down before slamming the rest of the way in with a hard thrust. Childe is too full all of a sudden. He keens, sliding across the bed, clinging to Childe is sore and his joints ache, but he’ll be good, just like Katya likes. She holds his hips in a tight grip and pulls him back into her, grinding her fat cock in as deep as it’ll go. 

“Fuck, Katya, I—” 

Nadia’s fingers curl into his hair again, stroking his auburn locks as he’s fucked straight into overstimulation. His cheeks are wet with tears as he rests one against the inside of her thigh. 

“Go on,” says Katya, dragging her length right across his swollen prostate. “Take care of her. Didn’t you promise her another?”

He was going to, he just never got the chance. Childe nods, scooting closer, tugging Nadia’s hips close as he devours her cunt again. She says his name sweetly but fucks his face aggressively. Katya rolls into his ass hard, cock thick in his guts, dragging terrible sounds from his throat. 

“Please,” he says, voice raspy, muffled by Nadia’s sex as he licks it. “Fuck, please, I’m—” His cock twitches, fully hard again, leaking over the sheets as the tip drags over the bed. 

“Are you going to come again?” Katya sighs at the thought, pressing her thumb into his hole, pulling at it, watching the pink of his insides as her cock spears him open. “Come on, Sir, you can give me another.”

Childe chokes on a pitiful sound, falling back into Katya’s smooth and measured strokes. Right into his prostate, bullying those nerves. Katya’s free hand moves to cup his balls, squeezing them as she thrusts, pulling and tugging at them gently. Sweat clings to her as she fucks him faster. 

“There, oh, there, Mhm—” He writhes, feeling like he’s about to die. “Katya, Katya—”

“Do you see them?” she asks. “Everyone else in the room. All eyes are on you, Sir, just like old times.” Then, Katya leans forward until he’s plastered against his back, mouth near his ear. “Good boy,” she whispers, just for him, changing the angle, nailing Childe’s prostate dead on with every slip of her cock. “You’ve always been a good boy for me, even now.”

Childe clenches tight, coming at her praise, his spend watery as it drips all over the bed. Nadia pets him through it, her fingers a balm against his scalp as he cries against her, moaning into her cunt, still trying to lap at her even as he shakes with his orgasm. 

Katya moves to pull out and Childe grabs her with a bone-crushing grip. “No, don’t—” He wants her to stay, keep him plugged up, let him roll about in that hazy pleasure as he dozes about. She coos gently and soothes him, rubbing at his skin, brushing her fingers and knuckles over the length of him. Down his back, around his sides, all the way still pressed in deep. 

“Onto your side,” she murmurs, “Come on Sir, just like that.” It takes some maneuvering but Childe rolls over, pressing his face into Nadia’s chest. Katya curls against his back, still stroking his side. Nadia pulls his face into her breast and he kisses one. Short and sweet, his tongue circling a nipple. She laughs as Katya smacks his ass. “Behave,” warns Katya. 

“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs, sluggish and tired. The rest of the room is still alive, still fucking their hands and each other—but Childe feels sleep pull at him. If he were younger—but he isn’t. He blames his old bones.

Katya presses her neck into his sweaty nape. “Ajax,” she says low enough that no one else will hear. “Rest. I won’t leave.” She rolls her hips, nestling the cock deeper into his ass as if to prove her point. Leaving him plugged, full, satiated. He groans softly and she brushes his bangs back from his forehead.

“I’m too old for this,” says Childe, and Katya chuckles. “You’re too old—”

“You better shut up.”

Childe does, humming softly as he falls back into the lurid pleasure that fills the room. The sounds, slick and wet fucking, Katya spooning him and rolling her hips gently—he’s missed this. He figures he better rest before getting ready to go again. 

[broomsticks]

you tackled that tonks/lily post so gently, so elegantly, I am in awe. (also I wrote tonks / lily for efficiency sake but I do think it would be an interesting ship to explore!). for me - my priority in HP is sibling relationships tbh and FRIENDS. like I wrote a romance and 80% of it was about platonic relationships. also - I dislike how people are like 'mlm is for straight women!' and erase the fact that so many women writing mlm are queer (that was in a reply re: wolfstar), as shown by statistics (which you probably have, you are so clever!)

ahhh thank you that means a lot! glad my hard-earned wisdom from my (one year's 😂) long experience shipping both remadora and wolfstar is coming in handy LMAO. but seriously - fandom Means Something to so many people and that's wonderful, that shared passion and excitement and joy and connection and vulnerability, but the flip side of that, when it means different things to different people, the "why don't you see this the way i do?" / "how can you not care about this as much as i do?" / "why does this not mean the same thing to you as it does to me?" hits so much harder. i get it, it's a horrid feeling!

but i've realized that what often comes across as remadora bashing/ erasure from some wolfstar folks is really them trying to say, in maybe not so many words, that canon acknowledgement / a happy ending for wolfstar would really have meant a lot to me, and therefore i am creating in fic what i would have wanted to see on the shelf/on the screen, just these small ordinary happinesses that's been denied same-sex couples over and over and over and over, in mainstream media and in real life.

and conversely, often what remadora shippers are trying to say is that remus and tonks, individually and together, mean a lot to me too, and so it hurts to see tonks' character sidelined/ assassinated even more than it already was in the books, it hurts to see it repeatedly insinuated that just because it's het m/f makes it automatically less queer, less 'cool,' less valid, less worthy of thoughtful consideration and affirmation and celebration, especially now that canon is long dead and buried and the fandom has really become its own thing.

(i don't know the jegulus and jily fandoms well enough to say, but.. you get the idea)

are gay people and same-sex relationships discriminated against? absolutely. are women a marginalized group? for sure. what about bi people, especially bi folk in m/f relationships? oh gosh don't get me started.

but. one side claims misogyny, the other claims homophobia, something something 'protecting male friendships,' something something biphobia, … it's tiring. it's the oppression olympics and i'm not about that (especially in this fandom! this fandom!!! of all places!). i'm tired. everyone has scars and hurts and is just trying to have a nice relaxing self-indulgent time. i would love for more people to read/write femslash, fic about the actually unlikable or morally complicated characters, and dark fic, but more than that i want people to enjoy themselves and be happy in fandom! ship and let ship. write whatever you want. don't want to read it? don't read it. fandom is for joy and silliness and fun. and for writing and gifting me james/lily/peter fic, obviously 😊

OKAY WOW SOAPBOX. i have feelings about ship wars, especially of the political moralizing and activism sort.

-#-

anyway yes gen fic is another area that's so hard to find a community for. AO3 already does better than most in having the & tag (the platonic 'regulus & sirius' made it into the top 10 tags of fics written last year! amazing) but it's inconsistently tagged: this first war longfic i'm currently reading, Power the Dark Lord Knows Not, is far more sirius & james and sirius & regulus, heck even remus & peter and sirius & peter, than it is wolfstar, but the slash ship is the only one tagged -- this is a delightfully chaotic minerva & peeves oneshot that's not tagged -- and ... even if it IS tagged, who really goes looking for remus & professor binns fanfiction? i'm a little sad that genuary never really came back after that first year too. ah well.

-#-

also hahahaha yes the stats you want are here. these stats are from 2013. 2013. imagine how different they probably look now, and in this defiantly queer section of the HP fandom at that.

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

fic stats

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most bookmarks, fourth most comments, fifth most words, and your fic with the least amount of words.

thanks for the tags! @thenicestthingiveseen @takearisk-ao3 and @ginnyw-potter

Most Hits: Island Breeze with the Lights Down Low

with just over 1500 hits, the people want smut the most.

Second Most Kudos: up on a roof with a school girl crush

102 kudos for a short, everybody lives au, new years eve party

Third Most Bookmarks: I wrote a poem (you say what a mind)

The first fic I published just under a year ago to give the world more OOTP Hinny

Fourth Most Comments: Trust Him Like a Brother

My newest fic, so it makes sense that there is not the most comments

Fifth Most Words: I Go On Too Many Dates (It's Miserable and Magical)

This one was written to show some love to Ginny and Ron sibling bonds (but not the same type as sibling bond as you will see in trust him like a brother)

Least Amount of Words: god rest my soul

All 851 words of this fic are some of my favorite words I have ever written. Ginny Weasley, Greek Mythology, and Would've Could've Should've are three things you will find in this fic

I love you all, I am too tired to figure out who and who has not been tagged

[made-ofmemories]

When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 7/17)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort

Chapter specific warnings/tags: Wayne makes a more prominent appearance in this chapter, no warnings.

Word count: 1394

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series Masterlist 

——-

Max hears rather than sees her mom's car limping into the trailer park. She makes her way outside just in time to watch as it splutters to a stop a few feet from their trailer from the sound of it she’s lucky it made it that far. She rushes down the trailer steps when she sees her mom get out of the car, she looks exhausted and there are tears in her eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright.” She reassures her. They can’t afford to have it towed and whatever the repairs may cost, Max knows that already, “Just wait here, ok? I have an idea.”

She hurries off before she can get a response, heading towards the Munson trailer. Eddie’s van is there, parked alongside Wayne's beat-up old truck. He’ll be able to help. She hopes. She may not be completely clueless, she thinks she could handle changing the oil or fitting a spare tire but anything else is far beyond her skill set.

It’s Wayne who opens the door to see Max bouncing on her heels. “Is Eddie here?” She asks without greeting.

For all the time she spends around his nephew Max can count on one hand the number of interactions she’s had with Wayne Munson. She knows he’s a good man, the way Eddie speaks of him is evidence of that, but she’s still a little cautious and her words come out bluntly.

“He’s at work. Sorry, kid.” He must have noticed her eyes darting to the van parked outside the trailer, checking she hadn’t imagined it sitting there, or maybe it’s the confusion on her face, “One of his friends gave him a ride. Harv- Harry…? Harrington! He’s waiting on a part for the van.”

“Oh.” Eddie had mentioned it a few days prior, but it had slipped her mind in her haste.

“Everything ok?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, everything is fine. Could you ask him to come over when he gets home? My mom's car broke down.”

“Is that so?” He asks. That thick southern drawl never fails to surprise her. He’s similar to Eddie in some ways, they share some of the same little gestures and expressions, and yet they still manage to be so different in so many ways at the same time. She nods in response to his question, “Well, I’m here now, so why don’t I come over and take a look?”

Her mom gives her a skeptical look when she appears from across the street with Wayne Munson by her side, but she also isn’t in the position to refuse help no matter who it comes from.

Susan has never been the biggest fan of the Munson’s, even before all the rumors and accusations. Eddie drove like a lunatic, played his music too loud, and there had been that one time he had been dropped off in the back of a police car and escorted to the door by officer Callahan. Wayne, she has fewer reasons to distrust, though she oftentimes would blame him for Eddie’s behavior and by extension had grown to dislike him just as much. Max would admit she had been quick to judge them too.

She knows her mom isn’t happy with the amount of time she’s been spending around Eddie, she had expressed her displeasure about it multiple times, but Max also knows she’s too timid to ever really do anything to stop her. She loves her mom, but she’s always been a bit of a pushover.

Between the 3 of them, they manage to roll the car onto the spot outside the trailer where it’s usually parked. Wayne refuses Susan's offer of coffee and she heads inside, leaving him to work after he returns from his truck with a box of tools. Max stays, perching herself on the trailer steps.

“I wouldn’t have bothered you if I’d known Eddie was at work,” Max says after a beat of silence. She knows he works nights at the plant, that it’s long hours and he rarely gets a day off, and she feels a little guilty for disturbing him.

“It’s not a bother.” He assures her as he pokes around at the engine of the car. He’s not the most talkative Max is finding out.

“I didn’t know you knew about cars.”

That earns her a smile, just a barely there upward twitch of his lips, “Who do you think taught Eddie everything he knows?”

“I guessed he was maybe self-taught.” She shrugs, trying to imagine a younger Eddie helping his uncle fix his truck.

“You can teach yourself how to change a tire, but fixing an actual engine needs a little more hands-on knowledge and guidance.” he chuckles. They stay in silence for a moment, Wayne looking for what caused the car to stop working and Max watching him with interest. “Aha! Here’s the problem.”

“What is it?” Max stands up and leans over the railing of the stairs trying to see what he’s doing without getting in the way. She’s learned her lesson on not bothering someone when they’re working on a car, it’s always better to watch from afar. Or so she thought.

“Come take a look,” He says, jerking his head to the side to beckon her closer, she moves from her spot on the steps and leans under the lifted hood “See here, this part is loose,” He points to said piece. “With all the movement from driving on an uneven road, some parts can loosen up. We just need to tighten them up when it happens. Most of the time you don’t even realize when it happens, that’s why it’s good to check them all from time to time.”

“But why did it make the car stop working?”

“See here? That’s the battery, this particular piece secures this wire here to the lead terminals, they make the connection between the battery and whatever it powers and so it makes the car turn off every time it shifts and stops touching the terminal. And it could use some oil, it’s running a bit low.”

“So it’s probably because of the trailer park’s dirt road, not just because it’s old?”

“In a way. Listen, as long as the engine is well kept, a car can have a very long lifespan.”

“I see.” Max lingers there, since he didn’t ask her to move, and watches as Wayne tightens the loose piece and refills the oil tank of her mom’s car.

“Here.” He tosses Max the keys Susan had left with him, “Go start ‘er up.” She hops into the car, leaving the door open, “You know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah, I got it.” She assures him turning the key. The engine sputters once, she tries again and it rumbles to life.

Susan appears in the doorway to the trailer at the sound of it. A rare and genuine smile on her face. Max hops out of the car, key in hand.

“You’ll probably want to take it to the garage soon for a complete check-up, if you go to the one where Eddie works he might be able to get you a discount; but that should keep it ticking over for a little while,” Wayne explains to her mom.

“Thank you.” She says, meeting Max halfway when she moves to hand over the keys, “Are you sure I can’t get you that coffee? It’s the least I can do.”

Max turns to Wayne, her back to her mom as she raises her eyebrows at him in a ‘what are you waiting for?!’ expression along with a subtle nod. Moving to Hawkins had been Neil's idea and her mom had never really settled here, now with Neil gone she has nothing except for Max. She could use a friend, Max thinks. Wayne is kind and soft-spoken, they could get along well.

Wayne hesitates, fidgeting with the rag he had been using to wipe his hands with. He sighs in defeat when he sees the look Max is giving him, “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

They head inside, Max leading the way as Susan holds the door open for them both. Max heads for the kitchen, insisting they both sit and she makes the coffee. She was right if the easy conversation they fall into is anything to go by. She hands them the coffee and then disappears into her room.

[nowis-scales]

Rating: Mature Audiences

General Warnings: Brief mentions of self-Harm and suicide, no explicit mentions or descriptions of specific acts

Fandoms: Fire Emblem IF/Fire Emblem Fates

Additional Tags: Revelation Route, Childhood Abandonment, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder — PTSD, Family Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Therapy, Post-Canon, World Building, Character Death, No Deeprealms

Chapter Word Count: 6,266 words

Chapter Summary: When Corrin is summoned to a meeting with Kagero, she knows it can be nothing but bad news.

[Read it on AO3.]

“Still water runs deep.”

That was Xander’s favourite phrase when she was a child growing up in the Northern Fortress. Any time she had any question about something seemingly normal being complicated, or challenging, or just not what she thought, it was always that phrase he fell back to. 

At the time, she wondered if he ever grew tired of saying it. It seemed to apply to so many situations, one would think that it would come more easily than it did. Common sense status would even be reasonable in this circumstance, but it just never seemed to catch on. Even with her, she supposes. Repeatedly believing in the goodness of others often meant that she would get caught in that snare trap like a rabbit. She would do well to remember that. 

And she does, when a mere three days after the pilfering of Ryoma’s journals, Kagero asks her to come to an evening’s meeting. 

“To discuss Lord Ryoma’s well-being,” is the way she phrases it. Corrin may have been a little naïve by most people’s standards, but even she could see that was a problem from a mile away. 

Or maybe she was just paranoid. She had been a bit, as of late. 

The days had brought hours of almost non-stop reading. Of the journals she received from Hinoka, she’s managed to make her way through about one and half – and has found herself still no closer to her father. When she began, she told herself that her neglect of the paperwork for Valla’s reintroduction was being done for its benefit, given that she was preventing another Anankos. However, she found that the further her reading went on without result, the more guilty she began to feel.

It certainly didn’t help that the contents of Ryoma’s teenage mind were… much more disturbing than she expected.

Some of it was normal. Writing about training, about studies, about dreams, memories with siblings, people he’d had crushes on. She might even say that these stories dominated his writings. However, the more she read on, the more she found herself picking up some harmful patterns in his behaviour. Not just for others, but for himself as well. Every few entries, or perhaps even in the midst of seemingly normal ones, there would be these deep, mournful paragraphs expressing serious anxieties, regret, and guilt that Corrin could barely begin to wrap her head around. 

The responsibility of it at all is what struck her as most peculiar and difficult to explain. 

Accountability for anything he did was often tough to get out of him in real life. Stubbornness runs in Masahide blood by Ryoma’s own admission, and even then, he is known to be more stubborn than just about anyone else. Self-righteousness is something that she knows Ryoma is no stranger to as well, given the conflict with Nohr, but the journals present a completely different side of him. The amount of accountability he takes is startling, particularly because it is for things that he could not possibly be responsible for. 

Queen Ikona’s death is his fault. She took her life when he was nine. In a fit of rage at Sumeragi, she confessed that she never wanted Ryoma or any of their other children, and he’d overheard. When she begged for his forgiveness, he was too hurt to grant it — so when she ended things, he took all of the blame. He compared being loved by her to being loved like a doll, but still it was his fault. Hinoka had scorned their mother’s apology just the same, but he never breathed a word of blame to her. She was six and didn’t know any better, he wrote. Like a nine year old should know of his mother’s intentions to kill herself and be able to stop it.

King Sumeragi’s death is also his fault, as is Corrin’s kidnapping. Ten years old and still grieving the traumatic death of his mother, Ryoma blames himself for not acting when the enemy attacked them. He thinks himself to have been jealous of her charisma, to have seen the glint of something he could not be in her, and to have let her go because of that. 

And even more tragically, he thinks that Sumeragi died simply because he dared to love his son without conditions. 

The rest of the journals, after expressing these thoughts, are littered with what can only be described as legitimate terror over the idea that something else will come to touch the family he has left. He describes it as a curse from the gods, some sort of divine justice that even he cannot find a reason for. All he can seem to think about is how to protect and destroy his relationships, going around in a circle of pushing everyone away and then begging to be loved, desperate to preserve those he cares for, but so starved of affection that he cannot stay away. 

He plays it off as aloofness, devotion, and hotheadedness, and while Corrin would never say that those aren’t truly who he is, how often are these traits hiding the fear that lurks underneath? 

Still water runs deep, indeed. 

Only having these books has been enough to set her on edge, but now knowing this additional forbidden knowledge, Corrin only finds herself feeling more upset. Though she has little need to hide her doings from Lilith, she still leaps at every opportunity to hide the books, and ends up all too stiff when trying to talk with her normally. Besides, the excuses about not feeling great after her spat with Ryoma will only get her so far. Eventually, Lilith will clue in. 

Of course, she is getting ahead of herself there – such a thing will only happen in the event that Kagero’s request is not Hinoka’s plan exploding in their faces.

______________________________________________________________

It is late afternoon when she finally entertains Kagero’s summons. The ninja had simply asked the princess to come whenever she was available; no specific times were required. Yet when she enters the quarters the staff have prepared for their use, it seems as if her arrival is perfectly timed, for there are already a collection of other people sitting in the room. 

Hinoka, Takumi, Azura, Hinata, and Setsuna are all crowded around a low table, trying and failing to not look terrified. Azura is staring at her cup of tea, Hinata at his lap, Setsuna at nothing, and Hinoka and Takumi at each other. As for Kagero, she is standing at the head of the table, with her sharp eyes boring into Corrin. Ninjas never betray their secrets in their faces, yet Corrin finds herself searching Kagero for any inkling of emotion anyway. She needs to know how badly they’ve screwed up. Seeing everyone here is all she needs to know that she will spend this meeting fighting for her life. 

“Thank you for joining us, Lady Corrin.” Kagero says in a calm, flat voice. Her face offers no pleasure beyond an eyebrow twitch that gives off more annoyance than anything, but she doesn’t sound particularly upset to see Corrin. 

That’s how they get you, she remembers Kaze telling her once. Of the three ninjas, he was the only one who would ever let her in on any of their tricks. Being the retainers to the future king, Kagero and Saizo had to be much more tight-lipped. She can see that Kagero is unwilling to slack on that even now. 

“Of course,” she replies, doing a soft curtsy out of habit (before realizing that it looks quite silly in a kimono). “Is there somewhere in particular you would like me to sit?” 

In Nohr, there would be a chair or something cementing her position, but in Hoshido, she could easily ask one of her siblings to scooch over. Nonetheless, in Kagero’s reply, she makes it clear that she does not want her to do so. She extends an arm out as if to say that she should be seated at the other end of the table, so that she may look upon her face. 

Corrin gulps. This cannot be good. Chills run up her spine like pattering rodent feet. How long will it take for Kagero to summon her master? Now that they’ve so clearly been discovered, an appearance from her disgraced step-brother is sure to follow. 

Even with this in the back of her mind, she knows it would suit her best to not let her anxieties show. So, with all of the grace she can manage, she takes up seiza at the end of the table, smiling politely and thanking Hinata as he pours a cup of tea for her with shaky hands. She doesn’t even bother trying to clean up the drips he’s slopped over the edge from nerves. 

And that one last motion is all it takes before Kagero begins.

At first, they expect her to speak, but she is quick to remove the leather bag she has had draped around her body from the moment they arrived. A few eyebrows raise in curiosity as she reaches her hand in, but Corrin’s stomach can only drop. Glancing at Hinoka, her sister is as pale as a sheet of paper. Both girls know exactly what to expect as Kagero’s hand comes swooping back out, holding a cream-coloured notebook that features two different years written in Hoshidan characters.

One of Ryoma’s many journals. 

Takumi, realizing what it is, curses under his breath. 

“Lord Ryoma recently informed me that many of his personal journals from over the years went missing suddenly. The move to the King’s Suite was not so rapid that he would not notice the loss of something so personal. Lord Ryoma takes great care of his things.” 

Gods, the feeling of wanting to die from a few days ago is suddenly coming back to Corrin very, very quickly. 

“He did not trust that whomever took his records had his or the country’s best interest in mind, so he asked me to pursue the culprit and return his journals to him.” 

She tosses the notebook so it hits the table with a loud thwap, making Setsuna jump and everyone else cringe. 

“After a few days of searching, I noticed that Setsuna had left her book behind after an afternoon of reading under a peach tree. I thought I would hold onto it to give back to her, until I noticed what it was.” 

If looks could kill, Setsuna would be dead by Hinoka’s hand. The typically oblivious retainer melts under the anger of her master, her shoulders slumping and her eyes giving off all of the power of a scolded puppy. 

“However, given the current state of things with Lord Ryoma, I considered perhaps there was a reasonable explanation for why Setsuna was in possession of his records. So I plotted out which among you had journals, and I have gathered you to give an opportunity to explain yourselves-”

Everyone gives a collective sigh of relief.

“- before I tell Lord Ryoma about what happened.” 

And then their shoulders tense again. 

Kagero shows no sympathy for them. 

Her arms fold across her chest, and her eyes glare down at the book on the table, as if Ryoma’s records themselves are the offenders in this situation. Maybe they are for her. After all, she never officially declared allegiances. She managed to secure meals without Ryoma for the past few days, which Corrin is grateful for, but she is still his retainer. She cannot abandon him just because she is upset with him. But maybe she wants to. Maybe that’s why she is letting them have their say before she does her job. 

If the rest of the group recognizes this in her face, they do not recognize it with their words. Their lips remain sealed tight, prepared to go down with the ship. Everything about each of them is so tightly wound, but she finds herself wondering if this is really the best course to take. If they say nothing, will Kagero just tell Ryoma everything she knows? Does any sympathy she has actually get to play a part in the narrative? 

She glances quickly around the table, trying to meet the eyes of the others to silently ask them what they plan to do. Unfortunately for her, most of them are still doing what they were doing before — avoiding looking at anyone at all. Even Hinoka, whom she had expected to see standing a little more strongly, has slumped in her seat and is staring at her cup of tea.

“Well?” Kagero asks sharply, still not daring to look individually at each one of them. “Is there nothing to say? Have you all stolen these records to betray the crown?”

Hinoka winces, and for a moment it seems like the silence might continue to permeate the air… Then finally, the first princess of Hoshido can no longer hold and cracks under the pressure. 

“It was my idea,” she blurts out, eyes squeezed shut, hand gripping at the table, “But I didn’t do it to hurt him. Even if… I know he’s been… He’s my brother. I would never want to do anything to hurt him, but…”

“But?” Kagero prompts, still seemingly unconvinced.

“I couldn’t let Corrin live the rest of her life in fear. If Ryoma knew something about Corrin’s father, her real father, then it didn’t seem fair to me that he would try and keep it from her.” 

Kagero blinks in surprise, a frown etching itself into her expression. It’s the first time in a long time that Corrin has seen her emote so openly. It should comfort her, yet instead she finds it strangely chilling. “Does he know?” 

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. When she asked, he insisted that he didn’t, but he… If he lied about all of us being siblings, who’s to say that there aren’t other things that he’s lying about? Having a reputation for being honest and actually being that are two very different things.”

The ninja hums in response, almost like she is prompting Hinoka to go on. 

“I just didn’t want Corrin to get hurt because Ryoma’s…” She pauses, shaking her head. 

“Lord Ryoma is…?” 

“… I’m not sure anymore.” 

After what seems like eons of standing above and staring at them accusingly, it is this comment that brings Kagero to sit on the ground across from Corrin. The tension is still thick in the air, that much anyone can tell, but the willingness to listen is there. It helps to finally draw out some of that anxiety from Corrin’s shoulders, even if only by a little. 

“What do you mean by that, milady?”

The two of them had little communication about the journals after their delivery, so even Corrin can’t be sure. The need for secrecy was relatively obvious, so she never bothered to pry. Nevertheless, Hinoka’s words and her overall demeanour reveal something about what she read. Did she have more recent journals than she did? Were there more pertinent things said?

Or was it those entries, the ones that crop up every once in a while, filled with a pain and anguish that he dared not to express to the world around him? The ones that have him blame himself for every bit of death, dishonour, and damage? 

A mere look at her step-sister’s face tells her so little. 

“I thought he was being selfish before, when he refused to tell us about Father’s true relation to Corrin. And honestly, maybe he still is, but…” She turns to look at the rest of the group, all of whom seem to be hanging onto her every word. “The rest of you read his journals, too, right? You know what I’m referring to?” 

Hinata nods reluctantly, followed by Azura, Takumi, and Corrin herself not long after. Setsuna, as always, is dazed and clueless – but still tuned in and listening somehow.

Kagero’s frown deepens, leaning towards Hinoka. “Is there any reason to be concerned for Lord Ryoma’s well-being?” 

Hinoka licks her lips, gaze still turned down, focused so intently on turning the thoughts over in her mind that it almost seems like she has nothing to say. The hesitation makes sense; to anyone who knows Ryoma, his writings are difficult to describe. They sound so much like an unconvincing lie when spoken aloud. But they are real, very real, and it is extraordinarily challenging to put them into words because the thoughts and feelings are just perfectly illogical, like a human’s. With the image Ryoma has so carefully crafted for himself, is there anybody who would believe that he felt such intense fear and self-loathing? 

He approaches love like a man dying of thirst would when he finds an oasis, is the only way Corrin can think to describe it herself. 

“I’m sure you know by now, Kagero, that things with Ryoma aren’t always as perfectly put together as they seem.” Hinoka lifts her head to smile at the retainer, but it is so obviously pinched that it hurts to look at. “It was why Mother urged you to stand beside him.” 

Kagero nods thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of the other eyes watching them. It is as if only she and Hinoka are in the room. 

“He got better with time. We all did, really. Learned to turn our pain into hope and plans for the future… But I don’t think that what happened in Cheve ever left him fully. I think part of him is still there.”

Part of Ryoma is… still in Cheve? 

Corrin almost opens her mouth to ask Hinoka what that means, but she doesn’t want to interrupt. Whatever is being said now, she wants to hear. No, she needs to hear. It will help her understand. Maybe it will make her the person he said he thought she was. 

“Something inside him snapped then. And even though we tried, nothing fixed it.”

A moment of silence hangs over them as Kagero processes, her brows creasing further than Corrin has ever seen them go before. She does not move much more than that, just looking forward and thinking. 

It’s hard not to feel even more shut out of the conversation now than before. Even with her forbidden knowledge, somehow that of Hinoka and Kagero seems a fruit so much sweeter. She finds herself glancing at Takumi in hopes of meeting his eyes. Maybe he knows something more. 

In the end, however, it is Azura who reads Corrin’s mind. 

“Is it truly so severe?” She asks, bouncing between the two women with her eyes. “Nightmares, self-harm, the like?” 

“Self-harm?” Takumi exclaims, head jerking back. 

He must have had the oldest journals, Corrin thinks sadly. It makes sense. Nobody would want to impart a big brother’s burden upon the little one. He would only blame himself. 

“It’s not like that.” Hinoka explains, responding to Azura more so than she is Takumi. “It’s… different. The nightmares and self-destructive behaviours are under control as far as I know, but the way he thinks, it’s not…”

“He reminds me of Camilla.” 

Somehow, that thought manages to slip past Corrin, far before she can even question whether it is worth saying. What does writing like Camilla mean to anyone in this room? It will take some explaining, but it is the only way she can think of to rationalize what they are seeing in their brother and king. Maybe it will help her rationalize all of the feelings she’s been having herself. 

When the others don’t respond with more than a few confused blinks, she takes it as her cue to continue. 

“The two queens of Nohr were mothers only to Xander and Azura respectively. Camilla, Leo, and Elise were the children of concubines. Actually, most royal children were those of concubines…”

“They fought amongst themselves often, and saw their children as paths to power.” Azura cuts in, face held stoic but with eyes brimming with emotion. She may not remember what happened to Camilla, yet she surely remembers the days she spent there. “Camilla’s mother, Hortensia, was rumoured to be among the most ruthless.” 

It helps to have Azura to fill in the backstory gaps. Truth be told, Camilla never told her the story personally. It was Leo who told her the truth. Xander and Camilla were always concerned with protecting her from everything, so they wouldn’t have spoken a word. Why they did not extend Leo the same courtesy, she never knew, although she supposes she should be grateful. If it weren’t for him, she might have had a far worse relationship with her older sister… and maybe, just maybe, it will save her from having a bad relationship with Ryoma now, too.

“Hortensia was a cruel woman. She withheld a great deal of love from Camilla, and would show her affection only when she did as her mother expected. King Garon was never around enough to do anything about it. It taught Camilla that she had no one she could count on. That’s why she’s so… Overbearing, at times. She thinks everyone needs someone to count on unconditionally.”

Both Takumi and Hinoka grimace. In terms of one-to-one comparisons, it’s not perfect, but it’s about as close as any of them have gotten to saying it out loud. That has to count for something, she wagers.  

“Make no mistake, though,” Azura continues their two-person monologue, “As much as Camilla cares, she is not always selfless in it. It is clear that she craves love as unconditional as the kind she gives, and if I am correct, I believe that Corrin is saying that it might be a similar case for Ryoma.”

“What I read did convey as much,” Hinoka murmurs at the table more than anyone else, “I just don’t know how I didn’t notice.”

Takumi places a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Corrin can’t help but notice how much softer his voice gets when he consoles his sister. “You didn’t notice because he didn’t want you to. You know how he’s always been about having those walls up.”

Kagero nods helpfully. “Queen Mikoto did say that he never let his guard down. It’s not your fault.”

The grateful smile that Hinoka gives is weak, but it is given, and they suppose that is a better answer than anything else. She hasn’t admitted defeat yet.

“But how do we help?” Hinata asks unashamedly. If he has any sense of how tender this moment or subject matter is, he doesn’t show it. It’s only once Takumi shoots him an accusatory glare that he throws his hands up in defence, ready to clarify. “I’m not saying we can’t, I’m just saying, if this is what we think is happening, we need to come up with a plan so we don’t end up prolonging his fight with Lady Corrin. Same way you would for any fight, really!”

A brief silence permeates the air for what feels like the millionth time. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, Hinata isn’t wrong. It’s not as if we can just leave things like this,” Hinoka sighs, “Now that we know what we’re up against, we have a better chance of beating it and fixing things, but we can’t do that without… some way to get through to him.” 

“I believe I’ve heard talk of healers that specialize in the mind, but…” Azura looks down. “They are relatively few and far between, especially in Hoshido. Not to mention that the cost would likely be greater than what we are used to.” 

Takumi shrugs. “It’s not like Hoshido couldn’t afford to pay. Royals have spent gold on much more frivolous things in the past. Trying to keep positive relations between two kingdoms and preserve the well-being of our king is a lot better than King Akinobu the Third’s gold-soaked concubine’s quarters.” 

“But there would still be a question of finding someone like that,” Corrin points out, not really thinking before she speaks once again, “Don’t get me wrong, I think we should, but it’s not going to be easy. And that’s if we can find someone. Do we even know for sure that Ryoma will be willing to talk? He hasn’t been open with any of us. I… I didn’t even know half of the stuff he wrote in his journals.”

Determination flares in Hinoka’s eyes, and within a matter of seconds, she is sitting up far straighter than before. She can’t see them, but Corrin is willing to bet money that her fists are probably clenched tight, too. 

“We have to try. It may very well be the only way that we can find out the truth about your father, Corrin, and save Ryoma from hurting himself in a way he can’t come back from.” 

Corrin nods carefully, her heartbeat picking up in her chest. She gets the feeling that she knows where this is going, but she’s a bit afraid of that outcome. 

I’m all for honesty, but right now seems like a really bad time for it. 

“So what are we going to do?” 

“We’re… going to talk to Ryoma. All of us, like Kagero said we should.” 

Damn it. 

She was really hoping it wasn’t going to come to this, but if Hinoka has made her decision, there’s little that can be done about it. The plan did belong to her, after all, and so long as Corrin is an accomplice in it, she has to answer for what she’s done just the same as the ringleader.

Hinoka turns to look at Kagero with pleading eyes.  “You’ll be there with us, won’t you? I think it would really help to put everyone at ease.”

“Of course, milady. There is nothing I would not do for yourself and Lord Ryoma.” 

“Okay… then it is settled. We’ll have Ryoma meet with us at nightfall, and tell him the truth.” 

Little else is discussed after that. Just minute details, really, and most of them fly over Corrin’s head. She doubts anyone can blame her for being as overwhelmed as she is. They’re all overwhelmed, really. The contents of Ryoma’s journals weren’t really something that they bargained for, especially not when the original intention was to confront her parentage. Going in to find out if she was the daughter of a mad god or not was already a heavy task, but this only serves to make things worse.

Honestly, it seems like her whole plight is a little forgotten in the midst of all of this stuff with Ryoma, which she understands at least partially, but it doesn’t do wonders for anxiety. She must show it on her face, too, because as the group agrees to adjourn their meeting and reunite later, Takumi stops her for a moment. 

“Everything okay, Takumi?” She asks politely, knowing that the answer can’t be truthful if it’s anything close to yes. He’s just discovered there is another side to his older brother, after all, and it’s one that presents a danger to him. 

“… Me?” Takumi quirks a brow. “Yeah, I’m… good. A little stunned, I guess. Guilty.” 

Her expression softens. “You don’t have anything to feel guilty about. It’s like you said yourself, Ryoma has always had walls up. He didn’t want to let us in.” 

This doesn’t seem to do much for Takumi. “N-No, that’s not what I…” He shakes his head again, letting out a bit of a huff. “Sorry, but this really isn’t about me.”

Corrin tilts her head. “It’s not?”

“No. I stopped to talk to you because I wanted to see how you were doing. I mean, the only reason why we even know any of that stuff about Ryoma is because we read his journals to try and figure out stuff about your background, right? But nobody really acknowledged that the whole time we were there. You didn’t even bring it up.”

“Oh.” 

The panic is still there, that much she knows, but the situation with Ryoma’s fragile state has tempered things a little. It’s given her something else to think about, really, so while she is still eager to know, she doesn’t mind having something else… Even if it is still rather distressing. It’s probably something that Flora would scold her about, telling her that she can be too self-sacrificing. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still anxious to figure out who my father is, but… If I can at least fix things with Ryoma and see if whatever’s going on between us is actually just some unresolved pain talking, I might be closer to getting the answer I need. You know what I mean?”

Takumi shrugs in that same, non-committal shrug that all teenagers love to use. No one can say that he doesn’t act his age. “I guess…”

Even with his recognition of her stance, though, he still won’t meet her eyes. She squeezes his shoulder comfortingly to draw him back to her. “It’s sweet of you to worry about me, though. I really do appreciate that.” 

“I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea about what’s going on here. We all care about you a whole lot – we wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t. It’s just sometimes, people around here get… tunnel vision. Especially when anything has anything to do with Ryoma. Hinoka’s the worst for it. She doesn’t mean to ignore you. I mean, she’s always been crazy about looking after you like a sister. Her and Ryoma just have this like, weird sort of loop that only the two of them are in on, and it can make her blind to anyone else,” the next set of words come more bitterly, “It’s frustrating.”

Makes sense, Corrin thinks to herself. Based on what Hinoka mentioned of their childhood, she and Mikoto were not the best of friends. With no other adult figure to defer to aside from Yukimura, who would obviously take Mikoto’s side, Ryoma must have seemed like the next best option. Maybe that’s what Ryoma meant earlier, when he said that he and Hinoka did not used to be close. 

“It’s okay, I understand. There’s a lot of dynamics at play here,” she pushes a smile, feeling it only for him, “But thank you anyways for taking the time to check on me. It was very thoughtful of you.”

She almost laughs at how his face flushes a little, but she knows that will only make him grumpy. As much as she thinks of Takumi as her cute little brother, she knows he’s quite eager to be thought of as a man. 

“Well, blood or not, you are my sister. Hinoka and Sakura like you too much for me to not be stuck with you.”

For what feels like the first time in ages – or what the very least must be a few days – Corrin laughs and shakes her head, all too eager to ruffle her brother’s hair and listen to him complain about it. 

Oh, how they will need to treasure this calm moment between the two of them with the incoming storm. 

______________________________________________________________

It amazes Corrin how the same room a few hours later can make things terrifying all over again. 

The same room, the same smells, tastes, sights, and sounds… The only thing that is really all that different is that another person will be joining them within it, but somehow, the prospect of that one person just completely ruins everything. Not a surprise. She’s had a few days away from him, where he’s just been avoiding meals, potential run-ins, and even meetings about the reconstruction of Valla. They have brought her some peace. Nonetheless, now she knows that he is going to be back again, and the anxiety is setting in anew. Even the hours she has spent away from this situation following her conversation with Takumi have done little to soothe her anxieties. She knows he’s going to be angry about what they did. Admittedly, she is a little afraid that the brunt of that anger is going to be aimed at her once again. 

As she sits in the meeting room, the same spot as before, she finds herself glancing around the table in hopes of seeing something more in the other participants. For once she is looking to others to give her courage, and not the other way around. Unfortunately, the only one who even seems to be remotely putting on a brave face is Azura, and she knows better than to believe that. The rest are either Setsuna and Hinata, who have already resigned themselves to the scolded retainer position; and Takumi and Hinoka, who are still filled with guilt at having betrayed their brother’s trust. Everyone is right to believe that this whole situation is probably going to be one gigantic mess. She just wishes that they could have some false hope about it being okay. 

The minutes they spend waiting for Ryoma feel like hours. No words are spoken, few gestures made. Just complete silence as the group is overwhelmed by their incoming guest. 

Naturally, that means the moment the door slides open, the entire group’s heads all snap up to the door. 

Ironically, it seems to startle them just as much as it startles Ryoma. 

His expression is difficult to read as Kagero leads him into the room, ensuring that he knows that his seat is at the head of the table. It always is. It comes with being king. Perhaps this is a sign that Kagero, too, is nervous. He doesn’t need her to micromanage him.

Still, if it perturbs the Hoshidan King, he makes no note of it. He simply sits and waits, his dark eyes focused exclusively on Kagero, like he’s afraid to look around the table. It squeezes Corrin’s heart a little to know that a few days ago, she might have thought of his refusal to look at them as an act of aggression. She sees so much more of him now, even if she hasn’t forgiven him for the way he acted. 

“Thank you for granting us your audience, Your Majesty,” Kagero says with a voice so controlled and perfect, one would think she was conducting court, “We appreciate you giving us your time.” 

He only nods, though it looks like more words are forming behind his mask. 

“I understand that this will be a difficult time for you, but I would like to ask that you hear what everyone here has to say before making any decisions. Our conversation will not be nearly as productive without all the appropriate context and emotion.” 

Corrin’s heart squeezes as she sees Ryoma’s mouth twitch ever so slightly. In the time that she’s known him, she’s discovered that it can be a fifty-fifty chance if he is going to notice something. Often it’s the things that are relatively obvious that he might miss, like when a woman is flirting with him, but the strange stuff… that’s where he tends to shine. And in this moment, the strange little thing that has happened as of late…

No matter how hard he tries to maintain a strong expression, the colour is draining from his face.  

He knows exactly why he is there.  And, as expected, he is not happy about it.

[discoknack]

Creature Cravings WIP

I'm posting this looking for criticism. My writing is v rusty, but I need it torn apart so I can make it better. I initially wanted to limit reblogs for this WIP, but then remembered comments have a character limit.

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Gen

Relationships: Knack & Lucas

Characters: Knack (KNACK), Lucas (KNACK, Original Female Character - Dianne Garner

Additional tags: Knack and Lucas are adoptive siblings, Knack started from scratch, Knack had a childhood, sort of, Knack is the sci-fi equivalent of a sorcerer, Knack is prey-driven, Lucas is well-acquainted with the effects of puberty, Lucas has subliminal pattern recognition, Heart-to-Heart, Angst and Humor, Embarrassment, Atheneum, Swearing, mention of libido, played for laughs, Not Canon Compliant, POV Lucas (KNACK), POV Third Person Limited, My First AO3 Post

Summary: One day, the boys were playing at a public park in Atheneum when Knack became too excited and made an embarrassing mistake. He ran off to hide, ashamed. Lucas had to find him, make sure he's alright, and talk about what happened.

Notes: I personally don't consider this canon, and definitely not to Heavy Handed, mainly because Knack having a prey drive conflicts with the themes. I just thought it was funny and put to words some things I was thinking when helping my grandma.

The text:

Somewhere over yonder, the clock tower, well, towered, over the city. Its crystal spires shone brightly with the midday sun, posing a challenge for those here to see the sights. But if one stole a glance or two, they could estimate that it was 12:15.

Between the clock tower and the museum sat a park: a big patch of struggling watered green, cut up by sidewalk and footpaths, and dotted with a few large trees for shade. In the direction of the museum was a bridge. It zipped straight across the man-made channel as part of the road, but left plenty of space under its archways for small boats. The water was mostly clear, save for the mud at the bottom. Running alongside the channel were paved walkways, so that people could stroll near the water and under the bridge. Not many people hung around here today, though. Standing in the grass of the park, a person could count the number of passerby on one hand.

Lucas paused under the shade of a tree, panting hard. He was burning up, but enjoyed some reprieve from the heat while he watched the flying disc touch down, skid, and roll.

Knack walked up a few feet behind him and teased Lucas by saying, as if mock-offended, "You're not even trying to catch it, now!"

Knack was about seven feet tall, and Lucas knew this, as well as a sense of proximity, because Knack had thrown the disc in the first place. But Lucas was tired, and jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, chuckling reflexively as he started to run after it.

The exhaustion grew worse, and by the time Lucas plucked the disc from the ground, he was ready for a nap. When he turned around, Knack was waving at him.

Knack's voice, inexplicably, could travel with excellent volume and clarity over long distances. "Good afternoon!"

It would be odd to send a greeting like that to someone you've been playing all day with. So he wasn't waving at Lucas, but at someone else. Lucas didn't have time to turn around again before he heard a metallic jingle and wet paws bounded against his legs.

Lucas grunted in surprise and twisted his upper half to look at the dog. It was medium-sized and had a muscular frame, white with black patches. Its head was black, too, as if it wore a permanent luchador mask. Lucas stumbled as it rounded to his front, and it was so enthusiastic that it could leap up and touch its tongue to his chin. And that it did. Lucas sputtered and turned his head this way and that to avoid getting licked. Nonetheless, he found himself giggling breathlessly at the situation.

A woman's voice scolded, "Frankie, no! Heel!" and so Frankie's erect ears turned in her direction as it paused on the ground, panting, before the dog dashed to its owner.

The owner addressed Lucas with a "Sorry," and she laughed nervously, almost barking, with her voice having the slightest creak. "Frankie never got the hang of, uh, people." The woman had a large nose, though most people did. Lucas wasn't familiar with makeup, but could tell she wore a tame lipstick, brown-pink. In her right earlobe shone a small silver earring. Her brown hair was wavy and tied into a ponytail with a bright green scrunchie, and went gray at the temples, producing large streaks. Silver strands decorated her hairline. Short, loose locks of hair curled slightly behind her ears and stuck up over her forehead, having broken from the tightness of her ponytail. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, especially against the sun.

Lucas nodded, intending to say 'no worries!' but still breathing hard, so it came out like a mumble. He felt a heavy tap on his shoulder, as Knack entered the conversation and held out a hand for the disc. Lucas absently placed it over his palm.

As Lucas did so, Knack asked the woman, "mind if I play with him?" and once he had the disc, gestured to Frankie with it.

The woman smiled at him. "Oh, sure! I bet he'll keep up with you!"

So Knack walked off with a "here, pup!" and Frankie hot on his heels.

Lucas was slowly recovering, trying to think of something to say to the woman, and he noticed she noticed the state he was in, now that she was no longer distracted by Frankie's antics.

"You look so tired! Just a minute, I have something for you..." and of the large white bag strapped to her shoulder, she removed it from its resting place against her hip and rifled through it. She also wore a baby blue shawl that was beginning to come undone over her turquoise blouse. Humming a tune to herself, she grew closer to finding whatever it was she wanted.

Lucas held up his hands, "Oh, you don't have to-"

But imitating a triumphant horn, the woman pulled a small water bottle from her bag and tried handing it to Lucas with a "here you go!"

When Lucas hesitated, she pressed it into one of his hands and held it there, furrowing her thin eyebrows and saying, "Hydration is very important."

Lucas therefore couldn't refuse, and so he took the water bottle, even though he already had one with his stuff. "Thank you," he bowed his head graciously. He slowly uncapped the lid, suddenly unable to speak as his heart squeezed. Charlotte had always been very serious about his health and well-being like that.

"Oh!" The woman thumped her palm against her forehead. "Where are my manners!" And she laughed good-heartedly. "My name is Dianne. Would you tell me your name, young man?"

Having lowered the bottle from his lips, he said simply, "It's Lucas."

Dianne repeated his name back to him, looking thoughtful and tapping her chin. Tilting her head from side to side, she muttered aloud with chanting cadence, "have I heard that name before...?"

Lucas went back to drinking water, when he heard the sharp, frightened yelping of a dog.

With wide eyes, he whipped his head in the direction Knack had gone with Frankie. Knack was charging away from Frankie and away from everyone, his arms going at his sides and his head tucked low, barreling across the park like a train. Lucas couldn't see his face, but Knack's ears were pinned to his head. Meanwhile, Frankie stood wide-stanced in the grass, its figure cowering. The disc laid forgotten.

Glancing at Dianne, who in turn glanced at him with wide eyes and pursed lips, Lucas decided that they would go check on Frankie, first.

"Frankie~!" Dianne crooned, strolling toward the dog.

Frankie slunk in her direction, low to the ground, quick and furtive. Its ears were also pricked back.

Lucas approached casually. Dianne crouched down when Frankie reached her, and she cooed at it, stroking its head and chin and ears. Frankie licked her hands a lot and whined.

Lucas checked Frankie over: petting its head, tilting its face to get a better look under the chin; rubbing down its chest, back, and belly; checking paws without much success - every time Lucas tried to grab one of Frankie's paws, it would pull away from him as if annoyed, but at least not hurt; rubbing down legs; and finally giving its tail a once-over. All the while, Lucas tried to ignore the feeling of dog slobber accumulating on his hands and forearms.

"Nothing broken or bleeding," Lucas declared. Then he stood up and addressed Dianne. "Bruises are harder to check. Do you know what happened?

Dianne shrugged with her face, lifting her eyebrows and dimpling her chin. "Nothing I'm aware of!" She patted Frankie again, who by this point had calmed down enough to wag its tail. "He's in good health; I wouldn't worry about it too much, dear."

Lucas sighed in relief, then registered the fact that he had been worried if he and Knack were in trouble with this woman. "Thanks, Dianne."

Dianne didn't immediately respond beyond a slight nod, her expression hard to read but carrying some tension. Then she blinked and reached out to squeeze Lucas's shoulder. "You should go find your friend. I'm not sure what happened," and she briefly held her mouth open while choosing her words, "but, he seemed to be in quite a hurry."

Lucas looked around. Knack was nowhere to be seen.

He didn't know what to say for several moments, before finally stammering, "Thank you for telling me. I gotta go!"

But then he just stood there, scanning the periphery of the park. He knew vaguely the direction Knack had gone, or so he thought, but he had been distracted by Frankie. Knack could have gone any number of directions upon reaching the end of the park.

"No problem, dear," Dianne chuckled.

There was no need to panic. Knack couldn't have gotten far. Except that at seven feet tall, though they were proportionally short compared to the rest of him, his legs were at least as long as those of Lucas and he had incredible stamina.

And it wasn't likely that he would get into trouble. Or at least, not soon? But Lucas couldn't be so sure. Just what exactly happened to Frankie?

Lucas wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then noticed the device on his wrist. Duh! Lucas could just call him!

And so he did. Just put in the ID and wait. Wouldn't be too long and... contact denied.

"Huh!"

"Is everything okay?" Dianne asked. She had previously been pretending Lucas wasn't there, for social reasons. But concern marked her features now.

"Uh, yeah!" Lucas said politely. "Well, no," and he threw his hands down a bit and clapped his communicator shut, "but I'll figure it out, don't worry." He opened it again decided to send a message instead of a call. Knack, where are you? Are you okay?

"Okayyy~!" Dianne said nervously. "Fig bar?" She held it out.

"Sure!"

Stuffing the treat into his pocket, Lucas looked around again. There was the disc in the grass. No one else picked it up yet, so Lucas started running to get it. After having taken a break, Lucas felt his energy come back to him, though his limbs began to ache. Frankie apparently thought Lucas might be playing, because Lucas could hear the jingle of its collar grow louder as it drew closer.

Dianne called it back to her with a "Frankie, heel!"

Lucas chuckled as the jingling faded.

After scooping up the disc, he spun it in his hands a few times before he spotted something: lightly obscured by sparse, struggling grass, and stamped into the moistened earth with indeterminate pressure, was a very recognizeable footprint.

It was not a heavy footprint, but it corresponded to Knack's form at the height he had been nearly all day. Lucas knew Knack long enough to know that how hard his feet hit the ground didn't correspond with his actual weight most of the time. Sounds odd, right? The doctor had his ideas about the underlying mechanics of it, and obviously, Knack knew how to do it, but Lucas hadn't fully put his finger on the pulse behind that decision. He'd found footprints of all kinds in the garden, in heavy clarity or the tactile equivalent of a whisper; small or big, it didn't seem to matter. Knack was full of mysteries like that.

While the footprint overall was, not light per se, but definitely not much heavier than Lucas's own shoe prints, it was very front-heavy. Rather than a casual plodding or marching that resulted in even steps, or the bouncing jog of a happy homunculus that dug his thumb-toe into the mud and spread out the rest of his claws widely, these prints had his front claws digging into the dirt and the rest light. Knack definitely wanted to get out of there A-S-A-P.

Lucas raised his arms and clasped his hands behind his head. He had all day to find Knack, and it's not like he had anything better to do; he could afford a little wild goose chase.

Simple enough, he started following the footprints to their end. He checked his communicator, and Knack still hadn't responded.

"Dang it, Knack!" He said aloud, almost startling himself. He briefly considered sending another message with just that, but decided against it. It would probably just make things worse. He didn't want to think about what might happen if Knack stayed missing.

"Y'know I bet he just went off to sulk." He continued. Yeah, that was a comforting thought. Knack just needed some time to himself and then he'd come back. No biggie.

Knack could be a sensitive soul sometimes. Like that time he got his hands on a furby. Knack and Lucas were both very young at the time: Lucas was ten years old, and Knack was as fresh as a daisy and had just learned to speak fluently. No one would fess up to having given Knack the furby, even as - within three days! - interrogations ramped up among scientist and their children.

Knack loved that horrible thing. Well, Lucas didn't mind it so much. That model had a couple games on it and, at least while it was charged, a few noises were sometimes nice to listen to when he rubbed its tummy. At first, Knack played with it like that, too. But he loved it because he got reactions out of people.

A lot of people thought it was creepy, and Knack could startle them easy enough by hiding behind doors. As soon as someone opened it, they would jump at the sudden sound of babbling or laughing in response to Knack tickling the furby's tummy. Sometimes the furby's appearance creeped kids out; he could just be holding it out at them and they'd bristle and squeal. A couple kids yelled at him over it, but he would just giggle and run off. It was worth mentioning that Knack could be over five feet tall while doing this.

He was scaring anybody he could with that thing. That is, until he scared someone who was a little too small, and they cried and cried. Or, that was how the rumor went. No one knew the full details, and all the kid could do was sob until they passed out in the comfort of their parents and then forgot about it.

Lucas found the furby that day in one of the hallway trash cans of the dormitory. Its chassis was partly crushed, and it looked like someone had slammed a chisel into it a couple places. Lucas barged into Knack's room out of curiosity and nearly stepped on one of the relics scattered all over the room.

Lucas crouched down and saw more relics under the bed, arranged into a button-eyed face. Knack growled at him and scooted back further.

It took some time to coax him out, but after he finally crawled from beneath the bed and stood up on his feet, the first thing the little guy wanted was a hug. And Lucas had gladly provided it.

Now Lucas was out of footprints and on the road. He didn't imagine Knack would make any sudden turns and so continued straight on, to the bridge.

He was only a few feet across, walking alongside the guard rail, when he stopped. It was as if something in his mind went bloop! Something to do with water. He looked around, not sure exactly what had tripped him up. He felt the prickle of sweat on the back of his neck, and a mounting sensation of - what Lucas could only describe as - destiny.

He grew more sure of his suspicions, and they were all but confirmed when he heard another bloop! and could recognize it as the sound of a stone plunging into the water.

Knack was under the bridge.

He was curled up in the shade of it, at his smallest. Lucas let out a sigh of relief to have found him. But then he frowned when Knack grabbed another relic from the pile and threw it in the drink, adding to the growing collection of bronze and brass at the bottom of the channel. The flowing water rippled, causing reflected light to dance against the arches of the bridge.

"Hey! Cut that out!" Lucas scolded, approaching. "What are you doing that for?"

Knack didn't immediately respond, instead watching the water. He wrapped his chest and little legs with the length of his arms and seemed to sigh.

Lucas approached a little more, stepping between him and the pile of relics. "Knack? Are you okay?"

Knack again didn't respond in an appreciable way, except for a very slight tilt of the head.

"Hey," Lucas softly urged. He crouched down and planted the disc beside him, then held his other hand outstretched. "Talk to me, buddy. Metaphorically, I mean."

This time Knack tilted his head more, and slowly increased the pace of it until it became a shake. Then he looked up at Lucas with a very clear expression of misery, his ears drooping.

"Oh, Knack," Lucas drew out the name, "You didn't do anything wrong. Or nothing really bad. The pup is fine, you just scared it is all."

Knack looked back down at himself, brows furrowed and lower jaw set in a pout.

Lucas lowered his hand, rubbing his fingers together in thought. It didn't make Knack feel any better to know he hadn't hurt anyone, but why? Had he been younger, Lucas would have thrown his arms around Knack on a loving impulse. And had Knack been younger, it might also have been well-received. But nowadays, Lucas thought it was important to respect Knack's personal space.

"Oh I get it," Lucas said, almost playfully, "You're ashamed of it, huh?" He laid his forearm over a knee. "You had an outburst, and you couldn't help it, and it's embarrassing."

Knack's droopy ears twitched back defensively at his tone, but after a moment, he nodded.

Lucas hummed, also nodding. He had to choose his words carefully. "You know," he inched closer, "I don't know much about goblins. But when it comes to humans?" and he gestured vaguely, "we can't live on this planet without shitting our pants at least once."

Knack threw a glance at Lucas, his brows furrowed in consternation and ears alert. But his jaw tilted into a goofy smile.

Lucas took a moment to suppress a giggle, because he was trying to be at least a little serious. He took a breath and then continued, "We get hungry, thirsty, sometimes horny," and he had to look away from Knack at this part, furrowing his own brow, "so freaking horny..."

He heard the clap of stone against stone and looked over to see Knack covering his face and violently shaking his head, nearly falling over. Lucas almost worried he said too much, but then Knack let slip a giggle.

Lucas let himself giggle, too. When Knack righted himself, Lucas tapped his paw to get him to look. Then he held up a finger and said, "I refuse to be ashamed of it. And you should, too!" Then he lowered his hand. "But about your thing."

Knack watched him intently.

Lucas brought a hand down against the pavement and kind of swung himself to sit right next to Knack, leaving the disc behind and putting his hands on his knees. "We don't know a lot about you, still. We don't always know how to take care of your needs. But we love you, and if you need something, you can tell us. Me, Charlotte, the Doctor, even Ryder. We love you, and I love you," he briefly leaned in Knack's direction to emphasize that. "We can figure something out."

After Lucas finished speaking, Knack hopped up onto his feet. He turned to face Lucas and spread out his arms, his eyebrows seeming heavy, but he smiled.

Lucas worked himself into a position where he crouched on one knee and held the other away. He held his arms out, too.

Knack closed the distance, reaching under Lucas's arms for the hug.

Lucas was suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of clattering relics and reflexively shut his eyes. The relics washed over and around him, filling the space between his arms and widening it; rushing into place under his fingers, under his arms, around his back and over his shoulders; surging partly out of his grasp as Knack expanded.

When all was said and done, Knack had resolved into a kneeling position himself, his arms wrapping around Lucas's torso and coming back up to clasp his shoulders with enormous hands. Knack's chin rested atop Lucas's head. Then he lifted it off and brought his head back down over one of Lucas's shoulders, getting a little more comfortable. All over, Lucas could feel that subtle sense of pulsing energy from Knack's chest, which brought great comfort.

Lucas could finally open his eyes and maybe appreciate the level of Knack's control. He lifted his arms some, bringing them higher up in the hug, and noticed the red spikes shifting into their proper place, having been postponed. Knack chuckled, low and content. All of Lucas's prior concerns about how Knack was doing evaporated.

Knack let go first. He kinda had to, since he was gripping Lucas's shoulders like that. And Lucas was starting to grow uncomfortable in that kneeling position. They both stood up, Lucas grabbing the disc just before doing so, and Knack pretended to yawn and stretch. Lucas dusted off the back of his pants. Knack reached up to grab Lucas's shoulder, getting his full attention.

"Thank you," he said seriously.

"Anything!" Lucas replied with a grin. "Now, let's get out from under this bridge. Neither of us are trolls!"