Important moments

by Ixora_jade

Summary:

A bunch of fics and AU’s surrounding the different trolls tribes

Notes:

Trollex has a nightmare, luckily, his husband is there to comfort him.

Requested by @Mappelshad

Chapter 1: Hickory x Trollex, Restless Nights

Due to being a bounty hunter, Hickory is a light sleeper. Whcih is why he wasn’t surprised when he woke up in the middle of the night due to the crashing waves outside.

Or at least he thought thats what happened till he heard a small whine on the side of him. He looked over at his husband, expecting the worst.

Trollex's eyes were squeezed shut, his body tense and shaking. Hickory immediately knew something was wrong. "Trollex? What's the matter, mein Schatz?" He whispered, his hand coming up to gently stroke his husband's arm.

The Techno Troll's whines grew louder, turning into a muffled cry. Hickory realized that Trollex was caught in a nightmare, a rare occurrence since their union had brought him a newfound peace. "It's alright, baby," he said soothingly, his hand moving to gently cup Trollex's cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that had gathered. "I'm here. You're safe."

Trollex had no idea what to do. He was surrounded by walls made of rock. The space so small he could even stretch out his arms all the way.

Trollex’s heart raced in his chest, the gills on his neck fluttering rapidly as he took in shallow breaths. His eyes darted around the small, dark space, searching for any sign of an exit. His body was coated in a cold sweat, the panic of his claustrophobia setting in. He was trapped, unable to move, unable to breathe.
 The wslls seemed like they were closing in on him, getting tighter and tighter.

But then, through the darkness, he heard it. The gentle, soothing rumble of Hickory's voice, calling out to him. "Trollex, wake up, baby, you're just dreaming," Hickory murmured, his voice cutting through the terror.

The walls of the tiny, enclosed space began to fade, the cold, the rock walls morphing into the warm, familiar wooden beams of their bedroom. The pressure on his chest lifted as the room grew larger, and Trollex gasped for air, his eyes snapping open. He was back in the safety of their bed, Hickory's strong arms around him, holding him tight.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. It was just a bad dream,” Hickory whispered into his ear, his grip tightening as he felt Trollex's body tremble in his embrace. The Techno Troll's glow had dimmed slightly, but the warmth of his husband's touch brought comfort and color back to his scales.

“It felt so real,” Trollex murmured, his voice still shaking as he clung to Hickory, his eyes wide with fear.

Hickory kissed his forehead gently. “It’s over now, mein Schatzi. You’re safe. You’re with me.” He held his husband close, feeling the rapid beating of Trollex’s heart slowly return to a calmer rhythm.

Trollex nodded into his embrace, his gills still fluttering slightly with his erratic breaths. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little shaky still. "Thanks Hickory, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Hickory's arms tightened around him, and he felt Trollex's grip on his forearms loosen. He gently carded his fingers through the Techno Troll's neon hair. "Do you want to tell me about it?" He asked softly, his eyes searching Trollex's face for any signs of lingering fear.

Trollex took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "It was just... I was trapped," he began, his voice shaky. "I couldn't move, couldn't breathe... it was like... like I was buried alive, the space was so small.” He shuddered at the memory, burying his face into the crook of Hickory's neck.

Hickory's eyes narrowed with concern, his thumbs stroking circles on Trollex's back. He knew about his husband's claustrophobia, a fear that had haunted Trollex since he was a trolling. It had been a rare occurrence for Trollex to have such a vivid and terrifying nightmare, especially since they had moved into their beach house. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on his husband's well-being, knowing that stress and fatigue could trigger such episodes.

"Let's go for a swim," Hickory suggested, his voice a gentle rumble. "The water always calms you down."

Trollex nodded, the idea of the open ocean always soothing to his soul. They got out of bed, hand in hand they went to the beach, the moon casting a soft glow over the sand.

As they reached the water's edge, Hickory scooped Trollex up in his strong arms making the techno king laugh as his husband carried him into the waves. The coolness of the water washed over Trollex's body, instantly easing the tension from his nightmare. He sighed contentedly as the waves lapped at his chest, the salty water feeling like a gentle embrace.

They swam together in silence for a while, the only sounds being their splashes and the distant calls of night creatures. Trollex felt his gills relax as the water surrounded him, the vast openness of the ocean a stark contrast to the suffocating space from his dream. Hickory's presence was a steady reassurance that he wasnt alone.

Trollex started to float furtger out he wrapped his arms around Hickorys waist, worrying something will happen to his husband while they are over deeper parts of the ocean. Hickory can breathe in the water thanks to the techno troll tribes magic but his love wouldnt be able to handle the strong underwater currents and whirlpools.

“You don’t have to worry about me, darlin,” Hickory assured, feeling the tension in Trollex’s arms. He knew his husband’s fears all too well.

Trollex looked up at Hickory, the neon glow of his skin mixing with the moonlight reflecting off the waves. “I can’t help it,” he whispered. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

They swam further out, the light from the moon playing on the rippling water. Hickory felt the tension in Trollex's arms slowly release as they floated together, their bodies moving in sync with the rhythm of the ocean.

Evntually they went back inside, the couple quickly dried off and changed. They lay down on their bed, Hickory wrapping his arms around Trollex from behind, his legs entwined with the finned limbs of his love.

"You okay now?" Hickory asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Trollex nodded, snuggling closer into Hickory's embrace. "Yeah, I think so," he murmured. "Thanks for taking me out there."

The two of them lay there for a while, listening to the waves crash against the shore outside. Trollex felt the steady beat of Hickory's heart against his back, and it helped to soothe the last of his fears. He knew that he could always count on his husband to be there for him, no matter what.

Hickory felt Trollex's body finally relax into his, and he knew that the nightmare was finally starting to fade away. He cleared his throat gently and began to sing an old German lullaby that his mother had sung to him when he was just a young troll.

 

Chapter 2: The glittering guardian

Notes:

Guy Diamond finds out Creek has been picking on Tiny do Guy does something about it

Tiny Diamond was usually a very enthusiastic kid, bubbling over with energy and a penchant for mischief that mirrored his father's own youthful spirit. The only time he wasn't was when he was sad or sick, which always made Guy Diamond worry.

"Hey, Tiny Twinkle," Guy called out cheerfully when Tiny Diamond waddled into their pod. He quickly frowned when he saw that his sons usual glittery pep was replaced by a noticeable slump in his shoulders. "What's got you down, buddy?"

Tiny Diamond looked up at his father with those big, eyes and forced a smile. "I-I just fell, Daddy," he replied, his deep baby voice sounding unusually low and sad. He didnt want to tell his dad about creek picking on him because he knew that it would cause trouble and he didn't want to get anyone in trouble. Plus, he had heard his father say that trolls should try to get along and he didn't want to be the reason for any bad vibes between his friends.

Guy Diamond studied his son carefully, his protective instincts kicking in. But, Tiny has never lied to him so he had to believe his son. "Alright, if you say so," he said, his voice gentle but his eyes searching Tiny Diamond's face for any hint of the truth. Inside, however, Guy couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't quite right. He made a mental note to keep an eye on his little one.

As the evening rolled in, the pod was filled with the delicious aroma of the dinner that Guy had prepared. He had gone all out for his son, making his favorite spaghetti with meatballs, hoping to cheer him up. They sat down at their table, and Guy watched as Tiny Diamond picked at his food, the usual enthusiasm for his meal nowhere to be seen. Concerned, he tried to engage his son in conversation, but all he got were one-word answers and sighs.

Finally, after Tiny had finished his meal and washed his hands, Guy approached him with a warm smile, lifting his son out of his high chair. "How about I help you into your pajamas, little buddy?" he asked, trying to make it seem like a fun bonding activity rather than a concern-driven task.

But Tiny Diamond had other ideas. He looked up at his dad with a hint of anxiety in his eyes, something Guy had never seen before. "I-I can do it, Daddy," Tiny said, his voice quivering slightly. "I'm a big boy now."

Before the glitter troll could say anything else, Tiny ran up the stairs to his room, his little legs moving as fast as they could carry him. Guy Diamond exhaled heavily, his mind racing with what could have happened to make his baby boy so upset. He decided that he would give Tiny some space for the night, but he knew he couldn't just let this go. He had to find out what was bothering his son.

Guy didnt see his son again till morning, when he went into Tiny's room to wake him up for breakfast. The sight that met him was not a happy one. Tiny Diamond was curled up in his bed, clutching his favorite toy duck tightly to his chest.

"Morning, sunshine," Guy said, his voice a little too bright for the early hour. He gently stroked his son's hair, trying to wake him with a smile. "Time to get up, we have a big day ahead of us."

Tiny Diamond stirred, his grip on the toy duck loosening slightly. He blinked sleepily at his father, the sadness from the night before still lingering in his eyes. "Do we have to?" he mumbled, his voice small and defeated.

"Come on, Tiny," Guy Diamond said, trying to sound upbeat. "You know breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" He reached down to scoop up his son, feeling the weight of the situation on his shoulders.

After another meal of Tiny avoiding any actual conversations he tried to go right back up stairs to get dressed but before he could get too far, he felt his dad scoop him up from under his arms.

"Whoa, Daddy!" Tiny Diamond giggled slightly, despite his mood. "What's going on?"

Guy Diamond's smile softened into a more serious expression. "It's time for a bath, buddy," he said, carrying Tiny up the stairs to the restroom.

"I can do it myself, Daddy," Tiny Diamond protested, his tiny hands pushing at his father's chest. "I'm a big boy." He fouldnt let his dad see his arm.

Guy Diamond's smile slipped a little, but he nodded. "Sorry tiny twinkle, you too young to be left alone in water , remember?" he said. Guy placed Tiny doen to sit on the toilet seat while he filled the tub with warm water and bubbles.

As Guy Diamond turned to pick up his son, Tiny saw his chance and took off, his little legs moving as fast as they could. "No, no, no!" he wailed, tears welling up in his eyes. "I don't want a bath!"

Guy Diamond's heart sank. He had never seen his son act like this before, and it was clear that something was very wrong. He quickly caught up to Tiny, scooping him up in his arms despite the little troll's squirming. "What's going on, Tiny?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "You love baths. What's the matter?"

But Tiny Diamond was too upset to answer. He threw his head back and let out a wail that echoed through the pod, his little body trembling with the force of his emotions. "No bath, no!" he screamed, flailing his arms and legs.

Guy Diamond's eyes widened in surprise. His son had never thrown a tantrum before, not even as a baby. Something was definitely wrong. "Tiny, you are taking a bath then you are going to tell me whats been going on.” He firmly but gently held onto his son.

With a deep breath, Guy Diamond reached down and began to unbutton the long sleeve pajama shirt that Tiny Diamond was wearing. Tiny Diamond squirmed and struggled, trying to keep his secret hidden. But Guy was persistent, his protective instincts now fully engaged. As he slipped the shirt off Tiny's arm, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the grey bruises. When a glitter troll gets hurt the glitter where the bruises are turn a darker shade than their normal color. They weren't just any bruises, they were fingerprints, tons of them going up his arm. It looked as if someone had been gripping him tightly, with malicious intent.

"Who did this to you?" Guy demanded, his voice cold and hard.

Tiny Diamond looked away, his eyes filling with tears. "Nobody," he mumbled, trying to pull his arm out of his father's light grip.

Guy Diamond's expression grew stormy. "Don't lie to me, Tiny," he said, his voice low and threatening. He was trying to calm himself down for the sake of his son but it was becoming increasingly hard when he saw how dark some of the bruises are. "I know you didn't do this to yourself, and I want to know who's been hurting my son."

Tiny Diamond couldn't hold it in anymore. The tears began to fall, and his whole body shook with the force of his sobs. "C-Creek," he choked out, burying his face in his father's chest. "C-Creek hurt me, Daddy."

Guy Diamond's anger was a volcanic eruption, but he held it in, knowing his son needed comfort first. He cradled Tiny in his arms, stroking his white curly hair and whispering soothing words into his ear. "It's okay, Tiny," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Daddy's here. You don't have to be scared anymore." He kissed the top of Tiny's head, feeling the warmth of his son's body against his own. "You're safe now."

Though tears, Tiny Diamond managed to tell his father the whole story of how Creek had been bullying him, taking advantage of his small size and kind nature. He recounted how Creek had picked on him because he was friends with Branch, and how much he has helped the teal troll through some of him and Poppys adventures.

 

Guy Diamond's heart broke into a million glittering pieces at his son's revelation. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Tiny?" he asked, his voice trembling with rage and sadness. "You know you can tell me anything."

Tiny Diamond sniffled, his voice muffled by his father's chest. "I didn't want to cause trouble, Daddy," he murmured. "I didn't want you to be mad at Creek, or for anyone to think I'm a tattletale."

Guy Diamond's jaw clenched. "Tiny, it's not your fault," he said firmly. "Bullying is never okay, no matter who it is. You're not a tattletale for telling me the truth. Now, let's get you into that bath and cleaned up. I promise I'll handle this." To be honest, Guy didnt consider an adult hurting a trolling bullying just plain out abuse but he knew in Tinys childlike mind it was bullying.

Guy carefully lowered Tiny Diamond into the warm, bubble-filled tub, his eyes never leaving the bruises on his son's arm. He gently washed him, trying to keep the anger from his face. He didn't want to scare Tiny any more than he already was. As he worked, his mind raced with what he would do to Creek.

After getting his son and himself dressed he left the pod to find Gia, another glitter troll.

Gia was a friend of the family, known for her nurturing spirit and her ability to handle any situation with a cool head. She had known Tiny Diamond since he was born and had a special bond with him.

"Hey, Gia," Guy Diamond called out as he approached her pod, his voice tight with barely contained fury. "Could you watch Tiny for me for a little bit?"

Gia looked up from her garden, her eyes immediately searching his. "Of course, what's wrong?".

"I need to sort something out," Guy Diamond said, his jaw tight. "It's about Tiny. I'll explain later."

Gia's gaze softened. "Anything for the little one," she said, opening her pod's door. "Come in, Tiny ," she called out, holding her arms out. Tiny Diamond went to her willingly, his trust in her unshaken by the events of the day.

Guy Diamond kissed the top of Tiny's head before turning back to Gia. "Thank you," he said, his voice strained. With one last, lingering look at his son, he turned and strode away from the pod.

 

Creek was having a wonderful morning.

He was floating on a cloud of his own blissfulness, humming a cheerful tune as sat near a stream a little away from the noisiness of pop village.

Creeks mind wandered to the previous day and the little glitter troll. He thought about Tiny diamonds bruised arm and the way he had squirmed and cried when he had been picked up. A twisted smile grew on his face as he remembered the power he had felt in that moment. That little bastard had always been so cheerful and helpful, always following Branch around on adventures like a lost puppy. It had felt good to knock some of that spark out of him.

But then he heard the heavy footsteps approaching and his heart skipped a beat. He turned to see Guy diamond, the glitter trolls leader, stomping towards him with a group of his most trusted friends. Their expressions were stern and their glittering eyes were filled with a fury that Creek had never seen before.

He rolled his eyes before turning to the glittery group. Before he could say anything though, he was grabbed by two of the trolls and was dragged further away from the village into the woods.

"What's going on?" Creek squeaked, his eyes wide with fear.

Guy Diamond stepped forward, his eyes narrowed into slits walking closely behind with the rest of the geoup as they went further. "You tell me, Creek," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "What's going on is that my son comes home with bruises, and he says you're the one who gave them to him."

Creek's serene façade cracked a little, revealing a hint of the cowardly troll that lurked beneath. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, trying to pull away from the grip of the trolls holding him.

But Guy Diamond wasn't buying it. "Don't lie to me, Creek," he growled. "Tiny doesn't make up stories. If he says you hurt him, then you hurt him."

With a swift motion, one of the trolls holding Creek slammed him onto his stomach, pinning him to the ground. The air was knocked out of Creek's lungs, and he gasped for breath. The other trolls circled around, their eyes flashing in the dim light of the woods.

 

Guy Diamond bent down, his face mere inches from Creek's. "Listen to me, you slimy little troll," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "You do not lay a hand on my son, do you understand me?"

Creek's eyes darted around, searching for a way out, but the circle of glitter trolls was too tight, their expressions too grim. "G-Guy, please," he managed to say, his voice trembling. "It was just a little teasing, I didn't mean any harm."

"Teasing?" Guy Diamond spat out the word. "This isn't about teasing, Creek. This is about you picking on a baby because you're too much of a coward to face anyone your own size!" His voice grew louder, echoing through the trees. "You're supposed to be an adult, setting an example for the others, and instead you're bullying the youngest member of our village!"

Creek's face paled as the reality of the situation began to sink in. He had never seen Guy so angry before. The other glitter trolls tightened their grip on him, their own expressions a mix of disgust and anger. They had always looked up to Guy, and seeing his son hurt by one of their own was too much to bear.

"What do we do with him?" one of the trolls holding Creek asked, his grip tightening around Creek's arms.

Guy Diamond stood up, his chest heaving with rage. "We show him what happens when you mess with a Diamond," he declared, his glittery fists clenched at his sides. "We're going to make sure he never lays a finger on Tiny, or any other troll, ever again!"

The group of glitter trolls surrounding Creek nodded in agreement, their own anger at the thought of anyone hurting Tiny fueling their desire to teach Creek a lesson. "We're with you, Guy," they murmured in unison.

Creek's eyes darted around in panic, realizing the gravity of the situation. He had always considered himself to be one of the cool kids, but now he was the one on the receiving end of the very thing he had done to others. The fear in his eyes was palpable, and it only made the other trolls angrier.

With a swift motion, they tied his ankles together with vines they had found nearby, and before Creek could even protest, they had hoisted him upside down from a sturdy branch. The world spun around him, and he could feel the blood rushing to his head. He looked down at the unforgiving ground below, his heart racing.

"This isn't necessary," Creek whined, trying to wiggle free. "It was just a joke!"

But the glitter trolls weren't in a forgiving mood. They worked quickly, ignoring his protests, and soon his arms were tied together behind his back.

"What are you doing?" Creek yelled in a panic, his mellow demeanor replaced with a frantic tone. "This isn't funny!"

"nicr try, Creek," Guy Diamond said coldly. "You don't go around hurting someone smaller and weaker than you, especially not a child, and think there won't be consequences."

The other glitter trolls murmured their agreement, their eyes flashing with anger. Creek's eyes widened as he realized he had truly underestimated the situation. He had never seen his friends this way before, and it was terrifying.

"Now, listen carefully," Guy Diamond continued, his voice like a knife through the tension. "We're going to leave you here to think about what you've done. No one will hear your cries for help, so don't bother."

They leave Creek hanging upside down, his cries for mercy echoing through the woods.

Later that night, after dinner, Guy Diamond sat down with Tiny Diamond on the toddlers bed, who was now snuggled up in his favorite pair of pajamas. In the middle of story time, Tiny looked up at his father with wide eyes. "Daddy," he whispered, "im scared Creek will hurt me again."

Guy Diamond's expression grew serious. "Tiny, you don't have to be scared anymore," he assured him. "Daddy won't let that happen. Creek learned his lesson and he won't be bullying you or anyone else in the village."

Tiny Diamond looked up at his father, his eyes searching for the truth in the blue depths. "Promise?" he asked, his voice small.

Guy Diamond took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his son's fear. He pulled Tiny into his arms, holding him tight. "I promise," he said, his voice firm and sure. "You're my little twinkle, and I'll always protect you."

Tiny Diamond wrapped his arms around his dad's neck, holding on tightly. He felt the warmth and safety that only his father could provide, his small body relaxing into the embrace. "Thank you, Daddy," he murmured, his voice muffled by the fabric of Guy's shirt.

Guy Diamond kissed the top of his son's head, feeling the weight of his own anger and fear melt away. "You're welcome, Tiny," he said, his voice gentle. "Now, let's get you to sleep. We've both had a big day."

When Creek was finally let down, he realized Guy hadn’t told Poppy about what he did or else he was sure he would have been kicked out permanently this time. But that isn't to say all the glitter trolls didn't make his life hell from then on.

 

 

Chapter 3: Barb X DJ suki Bio studies

Notes:

Dj learns a lot of stuff about her new mate and rock trolls

When DJ married Barb, she thought she knew mostly everything she needed to about rock trolls. But for some reason up until that point she never knew that rock trolls had a unique way of showing affection and protection. Sure, her and the rock queen had taken naps together but they both didnt want to disrespect any boundaries so they just laid side by side. It was only when they were about to sleep together as a mated couple for the first time that Barb unfurled her bat-like wings and began to gently wrap them around her new wife. Suki's eyes widened in surprise, not knowing what to make of it.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Her new mate looked down at her with a puzzled expression “yea, why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve never seen anyone do that before,” DJ Suki replied, her curiosity piqued as she stared at the expansive, leathery wings enveloping her.

Barb looked down at her, a smirk playing on her lips. "Ohhh" she said, with a slight laugh. "It's just a little rock troll tradition. We wrap our wings around our mates to keep them safe while they sleep." She then appeared to be a little nervous herself, "Do you not like it Deej?"

DJ Suki, still slightly shocked by the gesture, took a moment to process the situation. "No, no, I like it," she assured. The warmth and security of the wings around her was surprisingly comforting, though it was unlike anything she had ever experienced. “Its really cozy,” she exclaimed shyly.

Barb’s smirk grew into a full smile as she pulled her wings tighter around DJ Suki. “Good. I want you to always feel safe with me,” she murmured, her voice a gentle rumble.

 

Not even a few days later, Suki found out another fun fact about rock trolls. Their wings are sensitive. Honestly she blames herself again for not knowing this sooner seeing as she dated Barb fora year before officially mating.

She ended up figuring out when she was sitting on barbs throne writing a song while the rock trolls spoke to a few people from her band (that she found very similar to the snack pack). When Barb was done she headed over to DJ and sat kn the floor so her back was against the pop trolls legs.

Barb put her head back laying it on DJ Suki’s thighs. The pop troll, feeling a bit awkward at first, gently placed her hand on one of the rock troll’s wings, which she had never touched before (they are both very big on crossing other trolls boundaries). To her suprise Barb popped her eyes open with a gasp.

At first she thought ahe had somehow hurt the rock trolls wing…until she heard a low purring noise coming from her wife. "Is this okay?" she asked tentatively.

Barb nodded, eyes half lidded with pleasure, "Yeah," she breathed out, "It's... it's good Deej."

The pop/raggae troll blushed but kept her hand on the wing, gently stroking it while she read. The purr grew louder, and the wing twitched under her touch. "It feels soft," Suki murmured, still surprised by the sensation.

Barb's eyes remained closed, and she let out a content sigh. "Mmhmm," she hummed, "Just be careful not to touch the wing tips. They're super sensitive."

DJ Suki nodded, taking care to avoid the sensitive areas as she continued to stroke the wing. The purring grew deeper, and she felt a strange sense of closeness to her new wife that she had never felt before.

Now, over the next few years, DJ learned a lot of smaller things that there is to to know about as queen of a completely different tribe from her own

The types of food they eat was one of those things. Unlike the pop trolls who liked sweet things, Rock trolls had a more... eclectic taste. They liked food that was spicy, bitter, and sometimes even burned. It was a surprise to DJ but she took it in stride.

Or how they slept sometimes. Rock trolls had the ability to sleep hanging upside down from the ceiling like bats, which was not suprising since they live with literal bats in their underground cavern homes.

But, this tike she wasnt going to blame herself for not knowing the information she just learned. She had walked into her and barbs bedroom after a visit to Riff and was surprised to find barb sleeping upside down from the ceiling. Her bat wings were wrapped around her like a blanket and she was snoring lightly. Suki had never seen such a sight in her life. She took out her phone and snapped a quick picture before approaching the rock troll.

The sound of the phone camera's shutter must have woken the queen up because she slowly started to open her eyes snd smiled once she spotted her mate.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked groggily.

DJ giggled at the sight, "nothing just thought you looked cute up there.” She started to look around at the word cute. “Wheres Blaze.”

Barb smiled tiredly before lifting her wings a little to show their sleeping trollling, Blaze. The young troll was snuggled against her, his soft ashy pink cheeks flushed with sleep. His tiny hands clutched at his mothers shirt tightly, and his own little bat wings were wrapped around her as much as he could. Barb had her arms wrapped around him in a fiercely protective manner.

DJ’s heart melted at the sight, taking another picture before placing her phone back into her pocket. Barb noticed the rolled her eyes smirking. She gently unfurled herself from the ceiling. Her wings spread wide for a brief moment before she landed gracefully beside DJ Suki, careful not to wake up their tiny terror.

“Come on, let’s get him back to bed before hes up all night,” she whispered to DJ, who nodded in understanding. Carefully, they maneuvered their way onto the bed, with Blaze nestled between them. As they lay down, Barb unfurled her wings once more, wrapping them around the two of them. Suki felt the warmth and the comfort of the leathery embrace and couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over her.

Notes:

The last thing DJ learns is based on real bats sleeping with their babies hugging them with their wings.

Chapter 4: Chaz x Trollex x Tresillo Lifting his spirit

Notes:

My first fic with Chaz! Tbh ive never really paid attention to his character (i like jazz music so its jot for that reason.
The story deviated a little from the request but its still cute

Synth was worried.

As Trollexs ambassador, Synth noticed that some of the techno trolls working in the castle were starting to whisper among themselves. They had noticed that their usually vibrant and energetic king, had been acting a bit down lately. His neon smile didn't quite reach his pixelated eyes, and the beats of his music lacked the usual electric zest that made the ocean thrive.

Synth would approached King Trollex, tentatively asking if everything was alright. The king looked at him, his heart symbol dimming slightly before he forced a smile and just responded, "It's nothing, Synth. Just a little... lost in thought." but his king's refusal to elaborate left him feeling helpless and concerned. His best friend usually opened up to him about everything. This change in Trollex was troubling, and he knew he had to do something.

When trollex cancelled the next kingdom rave due to being ‘sick’, Synth had finally had enough. He knew that something was really bothering their king, and it was time to take action. He decided to secretly send a letter to both Chaz and Tresillo, who were currently on bounty hunts, hoping that Trollexs partners cpuld help him. The letter was quickly written but detailed Trollex's recent mood swings and his sudden disinterest in the very music that defined them. Synth knew that the two bounty hunters, despite their differing musical tastes and often contentious rivalry, shared a mutual love for their king and might be able to offer some insight or assistance.

The letter arrived at Chaz’s and Tresillo’s respective locations a day later. Upon reading the worried words scribbled on the page, their eyes widened in shock. Both of them immediately knew that something was seriously wrong in Techno Reef. They had felt a strange emptiness in their hearts, as if the very rhythm of their world was faltering. Without wasting a moment, they called off their current missions and set off on the journey back to the techno kingdom.

Tresillo, was the first to arrive. He found Trollex in his quarters, his once vibrant neon lights flickering dimly, the speakers silent. His tail drooped behind him as he walked in. "Oh mi hermoso rey, what is the matter" he greeted, a concerned furrow in his brow.

But Trollex just laid on his couch, not saying a word. His usually electric blue eyes dull and lifeless as they stared at the ceiling. He had lost his spark. His normally vibrant aquatic skin looked pale and washed out. The pixelated heart on his chest was faded and almost invisible.

Tresillo sensed the distress in Trollex’s silence, so he took a seat next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "¿Te pasa algo, Trollex?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern. "You know you can tell me anything."

But Trollex, not wanting to burden his friend with his troubles, just waved him off. ", Tresillo," he said, trying to force a smile. "It's nothing. Im just... not feeling that great." His voice was low, almost a whisper, and the effort to maintain his facade was clear.

“We both know thats a lie, Trollex.” Chaz’s smooth voice filled the room as he glided through the doorway, his saxophone in hand. His eyes scanned over the dulled king, and his own heart sank. “When you're down, the whole reef feels it. And you seemed to have really worried that ambassador of yours.” He gently sat on the couch, placing Trollex’s head in his lap.

Trollex’s eyes flickered up at Chaz, and for a moment, a glimpse of the old light returned to them. He sighed heavily, his finned hands running through his neon hair. “You’re right. I just... I’ve been feeling so out of place lately. Like I don’t belong.”

The two bounty hunters looked at each other, their expressions mirroring the worry in Synth's letter. They had never seen Trollex like this, and it was clear that something profound was affecting him. Chaz stroked Trollex's hair, his eyes full of empathy. "Is it because of some of your subjects , my dear?".

Trollex nodded slightly. "It's not just that," he murmured, his voice heavy with unspoken pain. "It's... the other leaders. They're all so different from me. They can all live on land, but I can't. And now, with the technology advancing, even the land trolls can come and live with us underwater, but technology trolls still can't stay on land without getting sick." His voice cracked as he spoke of his isolation, his inability to experience life as the others did.

They had always known that Trollex felt a bit like an outsider in their diverse world. But they had never realized how deeply it affected him. Tresillo leaned in, his dreadlocks brushing against Trollex's cheek. "You're not alone, mi rey," he said gently. "We're here for you. And your music, it brings everyone together, even if you're not like the others."

"But it's not just that," Trollex continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "They've never said they don't like me hanging out, but I can't help but feel... less than them." His eyes searched their faces for understanding, and he found it in the kindness of their gazes. "They can hang out and relate to each others”

Chaz and Tresillo exchanged a solemn look, realizing the depth of their king's pain. Tresillo took Trollex's hand in his, his own markings pulsing with a gentle glow. "The ocean is a part of who you are, and it's what makes you special. But if you're feeling like you need more, like you need to explore... we're with you."

With a sudden surge of affection and determination, Tresillo picked Trollex up off the couch, cradling him in his strong arms. Trollex gasped in surprise, his cheeks flushing a brighter shade of blue. "What are you doing?" he squeaked.

"We're going to show you just how much you mean to us," Chaz murmured,. "You've always been there for us, now let us be there for you." With that, the two of them began to carry him to the bed, their steps sure and steady.

Once Trollex was laid down on his back, Chaz and Tresillo didn't waste any time and undress. Trollex's eyes widened in surprise and confusion, but the warmth of their touch sent a comforting rush through his veins.

They eased his slit open to see his pussy, so tenderly that made him gasp.

Tresillo leaned down and kissed him softly, his stubble grazing Trollex’s cheeks as he whispered sweet nothings into his ear. His tail wrapped around Trollex’s waist, pulling him closer, making him feel protected and desired. Chaz, ever the smooth operator, straddled Trollex’s chest. He leaned down and began to kiss and nibble along Trollex’s neck, making him squirm with pleasure. Their hands explored each other’s bodies, the electricity of their touch setting sparks flying.

They took turns making love to him, their bodies moving in sync with the rhythm of the ocean outside. Tresillo’s dominance was fierce yet tender, his muscular frame pressing Trollex into the bed as he claimed him. Chaz, on the other hand, was always suprisingly gentle, almost reverent, as he filled Trollex with a softness that seemed to whisper sweet melodies into his soul. Each man brought their own unique flavor to the intimate dance, their love for the king shining through every touch and every movement.

“Word cant describe how much we adore you mi amor.” Tresillo kept thrusting into Trollex, their bodies entwined as one. His blue eyes were full of passion and adoration as he watched the king’s face contort in pleasure. Chaz took his place above Tresillos head, his hands on the techno kings shoulders making sit still and just take it.

“I-i love you guys to, im so lucky.” Trollex stuttered out, overwhelmed by the sensations that flooded his body. He had never felt so connected to anyone before, and the love that radiated from Chaz and Tresillo was like a warm embrace that soothed his lonely soul.

As Chaz took over, Tresillo didn’t miss a beat. He moved down Trollex’s body, kissing and licking every inch of his skin, until he reached the king’s pulsing pussy. He took it into his mouth, savoring the taste of his king’s arousal.

"You are the rhythm of our hearts, Trollex," Chaz whispered into his ear, his gentle strokes inside him creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the room. "Your techno beats keep us alive, but it's your love that truly makes us whole."

Trollex moaned, his body responding eagerly to the dual attentions of his lovers. The sensation of Chaz's cock sliding in and out of him while Tresillo's thumb danced around his clit was nothing short of heavenly. He had never felt so accepted, so cherished. His hand reached out, grasping at the sheets as he tried to hold onto reality, afraid that this moment was just a beautiful dream that would soon slip away.

Tresillo looked down, his eyes locking onto Trollex's, his pupils blown wide with lust. He could feel the king's body tensing, knew he was close to climax. "Cum for us, mi reina," he encouraged, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. "Your the most beautiful creature in the world when you let go.”

The jazz troll, kept a steady rhythm as he pumped into Trollex.

Trollex’s eyes rolled back in his head, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he approached the edge of ecstasy. The feeling was indescribable, the love and desire from his two lovers surrounding him like a warm embrace. He could feel himself getting closer and closer, the waves of pleasure building until they were almost too much to handle.

With a final, desperate cry, Trollex shuddered, his body arching off the bed as he came undone beneath them. The pixelated heart on his chest glowed brighter than ever before, pulsing in time with his racing heartbeat. The release was more than just physical; it was an emotional catharsis that washed away the last remnants of his self-doubt and isolation.

 

Chaz and Tresillo watched with pride and affection as their king found pleasure in their arms. They had never seen him so vulnerable, and the trust he placed in them only deepened their bond. They both leaned in, sharing a passionate kiss over Trollex's trembling form, their tongues dancing together as their bodies still moved in unison.

The three of them lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of their shared love. Trollex's skin had returned to its usual vibrant color, the pixelated heart on his chest now glowing steadily. His eyes fluttered open, meeting the loving gazes of Chaz and Tresillo. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse from his cries of pleasure.

Chaz leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Trollex's forehead. "We're always here for you, Trollex," he assured him. "You don't have to face anything alone." Tresillo nodded in agreement, stroking Trollex's cheek with a tender thumb.

Before the next meeting, Trollex was surprised Poppy wanted to have him host it in his castle.

the king had a feeling his boyfriends had something to do with it, most likely talking to Branch who talked to Poppy. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement and anxiety. The leaders were going to be here, in his kingdom, and he knew that their acceptance was crucial for the future of the Techno Trolls.

He was suprisdd the leaders loved his kingdom. It was so different from their own, yet they couldn't help but be drawn to the vibrant, pulsing lights and the rhythmic beats that filled the water.

At the end of it while the leaders talked casually Essence approached him”I’ve been thinking, Trollex.” she said, her voice full of excitement. “What if we could design some kind of device that lets Techno Trolls spend more time on land? Something that protects you from getting sick?”

The king smiled and talked to Essence, not noticing that Chaz and Tresillo were watching from the doorway, their expressions filled with pride and love.

 

Chapter 5: Luciano Part 1

Trollzart flew through the clouds with his tribe, away from there home as it was currently in shambles.

Those rock trolls had ruined everything and taken the classical string, he was ashamed to admite that he’d gotten the family and tribe heirloom stolen. But the only thing he coukd do now was focusing on getting what else was precious to him.

As the Rockapocalypse unfolded beneath them, Trollzart clutched his bag tightly, feeling the warmth of the egg inside. The wind whipped against him, and the ground below was a chaotic mess of Trolls being captured by the rampaging Rock Trolls. His heart raced as he spotted several of his kin being rounded up by the invaders, their cries for help piercing the cacophony of destruction. Despite the fear gripping him, he knew he couldn't let the egg fall into their hands.

Then he spotted a net flying towards the troll next to him.

In a swift move, Trollzart dived towards the ground, his pink lion tail trailing behind him like a fiery comet. He grabbed the hand of a terrified classical Troll, saving them from the clutches of a snarling Rock Troll. The creature roared in frustration, its foul breath hot on Trollzart's neck. As they backed up, trying to escape, more nets thrown around them. In a panic, Trollzart tried to pull away, but the net tightened, and he was separated from the others. His friends' eyes widened in horror as they watched him being dragged away.

The Rock Trolls had set up a systematic capture operation, using angler buses and beetle bikes to cage the classical Trolls. The cages were cramped, each one filled with the vibrant colors of the captives' fur and clothes, a stark contrast to the dull metal bars that confined them. The vehicles moved swiftly, leaving a trail of dust and despair in their wake. The classical Trolls inside called out to each other, their voices a mix of fear and anger, their music silenced by their jailers.

Trollzart found himself in one such cage, the egg still safely tucked inside his bag. The bus he was in was piloted by none other than Barb's right-hand Rock Troll, Riff. His eyes darted around the enclosed space, searching for any sign of weakness or escape.

Riff, noticing Trollzart's distress, approached the cage with a set of keys jingling in his hand. "Alright, hand barb said to take any bags or items you've got, in case you're hiding weapons," he spoke gruffly, trying to sound more intimidating than he felt.

Trollzart hesitated, clutching the bag to his chest. "Please," he begged, "you can have everything else, but not this."

“Come on dude its not gonna be broken or anything, give it here,” Riff said with a gentle nudge, his voice belying his usual rock 'n' roll bravado. Trollzart still refused so riff sighed an grabbed the bag. Classical trolls are the weakest strength wise, so it was easy for Riff to pry it from his grasp. He untied the drawstring and peeked inside, expecting to find some kind of weapon or contraband that could threaten the Rock Trolls' dominance. What he found instead was an egg, golden and sparkly with white and black notes floating on it's surface. His eyes went wide in surprise, and a strange sensation washed over him.

Riff felt a pang of guilt at the sight of the egg, quickly janding it back before anyone else noticed . He leaned in close to Trollzart, his voice a hushed whisper. "Just try to keep it hidden behind you."

The rock trolls, satisfied with their haul, started to turn their angler buses and beetle bikes towards the towering Volcanic Rock City.

Trollzart's heart sank as he watched the other caged trolls being offloaded into the prison-like structure that served as the Rock Trolls' fortress. He had hoped to be reunited with his tribe, but instead, Riff was leading him to a separate, more ominous part of the complex. The air grew thick with the scent of fear and burnt glitter as they approached a heavy steel door, the entrance to a wing that had seen better days.

"You're not going with the rest of them," Riff murmured, his eyes on the egg that peeked out of Trollzart's bag. "You get to hang out with the rest of the leaders.” He nodded towards the steel door. "This way."

With a mix of hope and trepidation, Trollzart followed Riff into the dimly lit corridor. The walls echoed with the distant sound of chains and the muffled cries of the captured Trolls. Each step brought them closer to the heart of the Rock Trolls' prison, where the most important figures from various Troll tribes were held.

When they arrived at the cell, the sight before him took Trollzart aback. Inside, he saw a diverse group of leaders huddled in one cage. He was led in before the door locked behind him. Riff quickly made his exit, leaving Trollzart to face the curious gazes of the others.

A colorful fish looking creature hovered closer to him. "Welcome to the VIP section," he said with slight sarcasm, im king trollex of the techno tribe.

"Trollzart, from the classical tribe," Trollzart mumbled, trying to keep his panic in check.

The two tallest trolls spoke up, “im Queen Essence and this is my husband king were are the leaders of the funk trolls.” She then gestured with her hand towards another strabge looking troll with four legs who he was going to assume was a country troll, “and this is sheriff delta dawn from the country tribe.”

“Why did they put us here together?” Trollzart asked nervously, glancing around at the leaders of the different Troll tribes.

Essence, the regal Funk Troll, spoke with a smooth, groovy tone. “It’s because we all have something they want, something precious to our tribes. They think by keeping us close, they can control us better.” Her gaze fell fell on Trollzart’s bag.

Trollzart realized his mistake and quickly moved to cover the egg behind his body. "How did ya get that past tha rock trolls?” Sheriff Delta Dawn asked, her curiosity piqued by the glint of gold peeking out from Trollzart’s bag.

"It's... it's nothing," Trollzart lied, his eyes darting around the room. The other leaders looked at him skeptically, but before they could question him further, the sound of heavy footsteps and clanking metal echoed down the corridor. The door to their cell swung open, revealing a group of Rock Troll guards, and in their midst, a figure that sent a shiver down every Troll’s spine: Queen Barb herself.

Her fiery red mohawk stood tall, a stark contrast to her grayish-red skin, and her amaranth eyes searched the room with a cold, calculating gaze. "Welcome, my fellow leaders," she sneered, her voice a blend of mockery and menace. "I see you've all brought gifts for our new world order. I'll be taking them now." She stepped closer to Trollzart, eyeing his bag with a greedy glint in her eye.

The classical Troll swallowed hard, his heart thudding in his chest. He knew he couldn't reveal his egg. "I... I don't have anything," he stammered, trying to sound convincing.

Barb's gaze narrowed, and she stepped closer to him, the clank of her spiked boots on the cold metal floor sending a wave of fear through the cell. "Don't lie to me, Trollzart," she warned, her tone as sharp as the points on her teeth. "We know you're hiding something. Give it up now, and maybe we'll go easy on you."

Quincy, the four-legged country Troll, noticed the distress on Trollzart's face and the way his hand trembled around the bag. Without a second thought, he stepped between Trollzart and the queen, his fur bristling. "Back off, Barb," he growled, his voice low and firm. "Whatever he's got, it's not yours to take."

Barb's eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden display of unity. "Is that so?" she mused, her gaze flicking between Quincy and trolllzart. "Well, I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

The guards moved in, their rough hands grabbing at Trollzart and the bag. The egg inside rolled back and forth with each struggle, sending waves of pain through Trollzart's body as if it were a part of him. The other leaders watched in horror as the Rock Trolls attempted to wrestle the precious cargo from him.

Immediately, Trollex swam forward. He planted himself firmly between Trollzart and the Rock Trolls, his pixelated features firm. "Leave him be," he ordered, his voice resonating with authority despite his smaller stature.

Barb smirked, leaning against the cell bars. "Aw, do all you guys care about each other?" she taunted. "

Trollex's fin-like hands balled into fists. "Yea, unlike you.” he warned, his bioluminescent colors pulsing with anger.

Barb's smirk grew into a full-blown smile, showing off her fangs. "How quaint," she sneered. "But tell me, Trollzart, what's so special about that bag of yours that you're willing to go through all this trouble for?"

Trollzart swallowed hard, feeling the egg shift inside him uncomfortably. "It's just... a personal belonging," he lied, his eyes flicking to the bag at his feet.

Delta Dawn's expression grew stern, and she stepped forward,. "Look, just quit stallin and tell us whats gonna hapen and where our tribe kin are," she drawled, her Southern accent thick with annoyance.

Barb's smile turned to a snarl, and she slammed her fist against the bars of the cell. "Your 'tribe kin' are safe… for now.” Barb watched as delta glatred and stomped her hoof before continuing,”All you need to do is stay here till its showtime.”

Quincy, rolled her eyes at Barb childish antics,”Wheres Queen Poppy?”. To their suprise the rock queen lost her humor at the mention of the pop trolls name.

Barb’s eyes narrowed into slits, and she leaned in close to the bars of the cell. "You know what, I haven't found that pink brat yet," she spat out. "But im close to finding those rainbow trolls so we cam get this shit started.”

With that, she whipped around and stormed out of the room, her cackling laugh echoing through the halls of the fortress as the rock trolls followed her like a pack of obedient wolves. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the captured leaders in a tense silence.

Trollex's gaze remained on the closed door, his mind racing with thoughts of his own tribe. "We have to find a way out of here," he murmured, his voice tight with determination. "We can't just wait for that... that... monster to do whatever she pleases."

"You're right," said Delta Dawn, her eyes flashing with a defiant spark. "But we need to be smart about it. We can't just charge at the doors and hope for the best. We need a plan."

Trollex nodded looking at trollzart again "But what if she comes back before we have one she might want to takr that bag from you. And i doubt we will be able to distract her again.” his voice was filled with genuine concern.

Trollzart gulped nervously, clutching the bag even tighter. He knew that hiding the egg was only a temporary solution, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

"My egg... it's in here," he confessed, his voice quivering. "I promised my mate i would protect it.”

The other leaders looked at him with a mix of curiosity and shock.

"Your egg?" Delta asked gently, her rough exterior momentarily softening. "You're expectin?"

Trollzart nodded, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of yellow. "Yes, my mate was originally carrying it but gave it to me before he was captured by one of those heathens.”

King Trollex's eyes widened in surprise. "You're going to be a father? That's incredible, Trollzart!"

Trollzart nodded "Yes, Ludwig had given birth just a few weeks ago. He was already weak from the labor, and I fear for his energy levels. He's not as strong as the rest of us, especially with our newborn to care for." His voice quivered with concern, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Essence and Quincy exchanged glances, their own fears and worries bubbling to the surface. "Our sons are out there too," Essence spoke up, her voice thick with emotion. "We've only just found Cooper, and now he's caught up in this...rockapocalypse."

Delta Dawn, her expression a mix of hope and anxiety, turned to them at the name cooper. "Was he with a few other Trolls when ya found em'?"

Quincy nodded "Well we found him first but yes we met th rest later. i assume you already met Poppy, Branch and Hickory?"

Delta Dawn huffed slightly at the mention of them. "Yeah, I met 'em all right. Can't say I'm a fan of that weird music they've got goin' on, though. Came inta town like they owned the place, interruptin' our mournin' song with their bizarre tunes." Her eyes narrowed in irritation as she remembered the disruption to their solemn moment.

Essence nodded sympathetically. "It's true, most the Pop Trolls have seemed to have been a bit... unempathetic to peoples sad emotions."

Delta let out a sigh, her gaze drifting to the floor. "In hindsight, perhaps I should've paid more attention to what they were tryin ta tell me about the Rock Trolls."

Trollex nodded, his glowing eyes reflecting the concern in the room. "We need to get out of here. My i cant sand not knowing where my tribe is being kept." he looked at trollzart "And i dont want to know what Barb will do if she finds out about your egg."

Delta's eyes narrowed as she considered their situation. "We've all been torn from our homes for these strings. I can't help but wonder what she's planning. Why separate us from our kin?" The room fell silent as they pondered her words, the weight of their separation pressing down on them.

Notes:

I rewrote so many times trying to get it right Enjoy Daltoon!

Chapter 6: Tiny’s first crush

Summary:

Sorry it took so long Wickedme

"and Harper said we're gonna do painting!" Tiny excitedly chattered as he ran around his dad, his tail bobbing behind him. The early morning air in Pop Village was filled with the sweet scent of berries and the distant sound of Trolls preparing for the day ahead.

Guy Diamond couldn't help but chuckle at his 10 year olds unbridled excitement. "I know, buddy," he said, ruffling Tiny's hair. Tiny has told him around the fifth time, but each time he recounted Tinys busy schedule for the day for art club, his eyes would light up with anticipation like it was the first. "You're going to have a blast splattering paint everywhere."

As they approached the vibrant pod of Harpers pod, they could see CJ being dropped off by her sister. CJ's eyes lit up with excitement at the sight of Tiny, her tail swishing from side to side.

"Tiny!" she called out, the tiny dj's voice drawing attention from the other parents/guardians dropping their trollings off.

Tiny didn't need a second invitation. He sprinted over, tail fluttering in the air, and threw himself at CJ. CJ stumbled back a step but managed to catch him, her arms wrapping around his small frame and lifting him off the ground in a bear hug.

"You're gonna break me!" Tiny giggled as he squirmed in her grasp.

CJ just laughed at her friend though you started it!

Guy watched the heartwarming reunion between Tiny and CJ, his own heart swelling with joy. As he looked around, he spotted Oscar arriving. Lownote's deep bass voice filled the air as he chuckled at something the tall trolling said. Oscars bright green fur and hair, that was a stark contrast to his father's, was sticking out in every direction clearly having bad being as wild as tiny has been this morning.

"By Dad!" Oscar exclaimed, making sure to give his dad a quick hug before running right into the two pop trollings that just seperated from their hug.

Guy watched with a mix of amusement and nostalgia as Oscar, who was definitely not one for the typical pop troll embraces, gave Tiny a high-five instead of a hug. It was clear that Oscar had inherited his father's more laid-back and less tactile approach to affection, which was quite the contrast to the pop trolls' love of hugging. The young trolls chattered away, their laughter echoing through the schoolyard as they swapped stories of their recent adventures.

As the commotion of greetings began to settle, Lownote turned to face Guy, his gentle gaze filled with a warmth that seemed to resonate with the soft, soulful notes that he sang. "Hey there, Guy," he rumbled, his deep voice a soothing bass that seemed to vibrate through the very air. "I see the little ones are already inseparable."

Guy chuckled, his own eyes sparkling with mirth. "Tiny's got a knack for making friends, that's for sure," he said, the parents watching the group of trollings start walking into his friends' pod. It was now an actual building since it had to fit all the trollings coming to live in trollstopia.

Inside the pod, the halls were filled with murals and subjects depicting different troll tribes.

As Tiny, CJ and oscar walked into the art room Harper set up, they couldn't help but feel the excitement in the air. The walls were adorned with vibrant colors and glitter, showcasing the diverse artistic talents of Trolls from every genre.

The chatter grew louder as they walked into the room where a trio of familiar figures stood, deep in conversation. There was Poppy, her pink hair bobbing with each nod of understanding. Standing next to her was harper. There was also a rock troll with purple pig tails who tiny thinks is the rock ambassador.

The rock troll's hand was being held by a trolling Tiny didn't recognize immediately. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a rock trolling.

The rock trolling had muddy blue fur with a dark grey shoulder length hair. Her red eyes looked up at the adults with curiosity, a single fang poking out of her grin as she held onto the purple haired troll's paw. The white dress she wore had rough, jagged edges, giving it a rebellious look that suited her perfectly. Emblazoned on the dress was a black skull, which only added to the edgy charm she exuded.

Tiny, realizing his friends heading towards the round table, walked quicker to catch up.. As they sat down, the laughter and chatter grew louder, filling the classroom with an energy that only a group of young Trolls could create. The vibrant colors of their outfits danced across the floor, bouncing off the walls covered in vivid murals of the different Troll tribes.

Harper clapped her hands to gather everyone's attention. "Ok, everyone Val has brought us a new student today!" the rock trolling, shyly waved her hand. The class erupted in welcoming cheers, eager to make friends with the new addition.

Poppy, noticing the trolling's nervousness, bent down to her level. "Don't worry," she whispered with a gentle smile, "You're going to make so many friends!"

Val ruffled the other rock trolls hair playfully, "Ill see you later Amp."

With that, Val and Poppy excused themselves from the class, leaving the young trolls to their art projects and Amp to make friends.

Clampers was quick stand up "She can sit over here with me and Lyre," she said, gesturing to the seats where she and her friend were setting up their art supplies. "We have plenty of room!"

Teacher Harper looked over with a warm smile. "That's very kind of you, Clampers," she said, her eyes sparkling with approval. "Amp, you okay with that?"

Amp, feeling a bit shy but also relieved, nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!" she said, her voice a mix of excitement and nervousness. She scurried over to the table, her muddy blue fur ruffling slightly as she moved.

Tiny couldn't help but think Amp was incredibly interesting. Her fur, though a bit untidy, had a rebellious flair to it that was starkly different from the vibrant, neat hairdos of the Pop Trolls.

As Amp walked towards the table, she caught Tiny's gaze. For a split second, their eyes met, and she gave him a warm smile, waving slightly before turning back to her new seat. Tiny's heart skipped a beat. He had never seen a Rock Troll so friendly and eager to fit in. He couldn't resist the urge to wave back, his silver sparkly arm shooting up in the air.

Once everyone was settled, Harperannounced that the lesson of the day was to create a portrait of their favorite place from one of the tribes.

Tiny immediately knew he wanted to paint Techno Reef, the vibrant underwater city where he and his dad had once visited.

The room buzzed with excitement as the children began to brainstorm their masterpieces.

keith eagerly showed Amp the art supplies. "You can use these sparkles here to make it really shine!" he exclaimed, holding up a small jar of glitter. Amp's eyes lit up with excitement, and she eagerly took the jar, already imagining how she could incorporate it into her own piece.

Tiny looked to the seat a few down from him where amp was, his curiosity piqued by her. Her rebellious look was intriguing, but it was her warm smile that truly caught his attention. He wondered if she had any special place from her Rock Troll upbringing that she would choose to paint. "What are you thinking of painting?" he asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

Amp looked at him thoughtfully before her expression lit up. "I was thinking of doing the Rock Hall of fame," she said, her voice filled with a hint of pride. "it has all the coolest singers included in it!"

Tiny's eyes widened. "The Rock Hall of Fame? That's gonna be epic!" He couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the thought of her adventurous background. "I'm just going to paint Techno Reef," he said, trying to hide his excitement. "Me and my dad visited there a few weeks ago!"

Amp nodded with interest. "I've heard of Techno Reef," she said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What's it like?"

Tiny's enthusiasm bubbled over as he described the vibrant colors, pulsing lights, and the way the music seemed to flow through the very air of the place. He painted a vivid picture with his words, making Amp's imagination race with excitement. "It was so cool, we are supposed o go again next month!"

The room buzzed with energy as the young trolls eagerly set up their easels and art supplies. The smell of paint and the gentle chatter of brushes against canvas filled the air. Amp watched as Tiny mixed a neon shade of blue for the waves of the Techno Reef. Despite being new, Amp was quickly getting the hang of things.

Most of them were talking about what they were doing that weekend. which made Tiny turn around again and speak to the whole table this time "Do you guys want to hang out tomorrow?"

Clampers and Lyre looked at each other with excitement. They had been planning on building a new tree house and thought this was the perfect opportunity to get more helping hands. "Yes!" they both exclaimed in unison, their eyes lighting up at the thought of a group project.

Turning to Amp, Tiny repeated the question with hope in his voice, "What about you, Amp?" Amp paused, her expression a mix of excitement and hesitation. She was eager to spend more time with her new friends, "Well..ill have to ask my sister first."

CJ, ever the thoughtful one, suggested, "Hey, why don't we hang out near Amp's house in Rock Hollow? That way she won't have to travel far, and her sister can keep an eye on us if it makes her feel better."

"Oh, my sister doesnt live in rock hollow. im only there during the week but go back to volcanic city during weekends sooo we would probably have to hang out on lundi"

Tiny's heart skipped a beat hearing Amp's words. The idea of hanging out with Amp, someone who shared his enthusiasm for sparkles and glitter, was exhilarating. He couldn't help the warm, fuzzy feeling that grew inside of him every time she talked about her love for music. He glanced over at her, noticing the way her eyes lit up when she mentioned her weekend escapades in Volcanic City. He felt a strange pull, an inexplicable happiness that he hadn't felt before.

"That sounds like a plan, Amp!" exclaimed Tiny, his voice full of excitement. "Lundi it is! We'll have the most sparkletastic time ever!"

Harper, noticing the room had gone from a gentle murmur to a full-blown symphony of ideas, decided it was time to start the lesson. "Alright, trollings," she called out, raising her hands to get everyone's attention. "Before we continue on our portraits, I want to show you all a little technique that will really make your paintings pop!"

The young trolls' chatter died down as they turned to face Harper. She held up a brush and demonstrated how to paint lines of varying thicknesses and sizes. "Look at this," she said, her brush gliding over a piece of paper. "Thick lines for bold statements, thin lines for delicate details. It's all about capturing the essence of your favorite place!"

Amp watched intently, her eyes narrowing in concentration. This was her chance to show her new friends a piece of her world, to share the fiery passion that burned within the heart of every Rock Troll. She picked up a brush and began to paint the jagged edges of the volcanic rocks that surrounded the hall, the fiery lava that danced in the background, and the dark, brooding sky above.

"Now just let me know when you're all done, and I'll make sure we get these masterpieces onto the drying rack," said Harper with a warm smile, setting the example by placing her own painting of a waterfall.

The room grew quieter as the students focused on their projects. Tiny couldn't help but peek at Amp's painting from time to time. The vibrant reds and oranges of the lava flowed like rivers of fire on the canvas, and the stark black of the volcanic stones contrasted sharply with the vibrant colors of the rock formations. The way she painted, it was as if she was bringing the very essence of her home to life before their eyes.

As the other Trollings started finishing their art, Harper noticed that Amp and Tiny were still deeply engaged in their work. She approached them with a gentle nod. "Looks like you two are really putting your hearts into these," she said. "im just going to help the other get their snacks, ill be right back."

Amp looked up, her cheeks slightly flushed with the effort of her painting. "Thanks, Harper," she said, her voice gruff but appreciative. Tiny nodded in agreement, his brush still dancing across his canvas.

Tiny couldn't help but steal glances at Amp's painting as he worked. Her depiction of Volcanic City was nothing like the images he had seen in books or heard about in stories. The fiery oranges and deep reds of the lava flowed like a river of passion, while the sharp black outlines of the rock formations contrasted with the softer, more fluid strokes of the watercolor. It was as if the very essence of rock music itself had been captured on the page.

Feeling a gentle nudge, Tiny looked over to see Amp sitting in the chair next to his, her own canvas of Techno Reef still a work in progress. The vibrant blues and greens of the underwater city were coming to life under her deft touch. "I need a bit of help with the lights," she admitted, holding up a tube of neon yellow paint.

Without missing a beat, Tiny scooted closer, eager to assist. He dipped his brush into a pot of shimmering blue. "You can blend this with your orange to get those cool light effects," he suggested, demonstrating by flicking his wrist to show the shimmering trail of color. Amp leaned in, her curiosity piqued, watching as the colors swirled together in a mesmerizing dance.

"Wow," she murmured, taking the brush from Tiny. She began to experiment with the technique on her painting, the light reflecting from the lava coming to life with each stroke. Tiny felt a thrill of pride, watching as her confidence grew with each new addition.

As the last few strokes of paint were placed, Amp stepped back from her easel, admiring her handiwork. The fiery colors of the Rock Hall of Fame blazed with an intensity that seemed to resonate with her very soul. Tiny, feeling a pang of inadequacy next to her masterpiece, took a deep breath and stepped back to survey his own creation.

Guy Diamond and Harper entered the classroom, their eyes scanning the vibrant array of paintings that covered the walls and tables. Tiny felt a surge of excitement as he watched them approach his work. He had never painted anything so detailed before, and he was eager to hear their thoughts.

"Wow, Tiny," exclaimed Guy, his eyes widening with surprise. "This is amazing! Is this techno reef?”

Tiny beamed with pride. "Yeah, dad!" He said, pointing at the glittering waves of the sea. "This is where we're going next month!"

Guy looked at his son's painting with admiration before turning to Amp's. "And Amp, this is absolutely stunning," he said, his voice filled with genuine awe.

Amp looked up, her cheeks a deep shade of red. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes flicking to her canvas. The fiery passion of her home was captured in every stroke, a stark contrast to the shimmering beauty of Tiny's Techno Reef.

Just as they were basking in the glow of their accomplishments, they didn't notice another troll entering the art room. It was only when warm arms wrapped around Amp from behind that they snapped out of their art-induced trance.

"Surprise!" A familiar, gruff voice exclaimed. Amp's heart leaped as she turned to find her sister standing behind her.

“Barb!” Leaping to hug her which barb accepted with a chuckle, Amp couldn’t contain her excitement. She leaned back in her sisters arms to look back up at her “I thought i wouldnt get to see you till later tonight!”

Barb, the rock troll with spiky blue hair and a heart full of love, laughed and ruffled Amp's hair. "I know, but I heard about the art class and I had to come see my little sis in action!"

Amp, still basking in the warmth of her sister's embrace, felt a flutter of excitement in her chest. She had painted something she was truly proud of, and she couldn't wait to show it off. She pulled away and gestured to her painting with a shy wave of her hand. "Look what I made!"

Barb's eyes widened as she took in the vibrant colors and bold strokes that made up the Rock Hall of Fame. "Wow, Amp," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. "This is awesome!"

The classroom door slid open, and the rest of the students began to gather their supplies, eager to show their parents and guardians what they had created. Harper clapped her hands again, signaling that it was time to clean up. "Great job today, everyone!" she called out. "Remember, art is about expressing ourselves, so keep that creativity flowing!"

As the trolls packed away their brushes and paints, Tiny felt his heart race as he watched Amp carefully roll up her canvas. He took a deep breath and approached her, his cheeks flushingt through fur. "Amp," he began, his voice quivering slightly, "I had a really great time painting with you today."

Amp looked up at him, her red eyes softening with a gentle smile. "Me too, Tiny," she said, her voice gruff but filled with warmth. "Your Techno Reef is incredible!"

The two of them looked at each other, the air between them crackling with an unspoken understanding. Without another word, Tiny reached out and gave Amp a quick, gentle hug. Guy, Harper, and barb couldnt help but find the cute sight.

"See ya tomorrow!" Tiny called out as Amp picked up her rolled canvas and bag.

After saying goodbye to Harper, the guardians began to file out of the pod, each one clutching their trollings' artwork with pride.

“Bye Tiny!

“See ya, Amp!”

With a wave and a grin, Tiny watched as Amp and her sister disappeared into the throng of families leaving the art class.

Barb leaned down to whisper into Amp's ear, "So, who's the lucky troll that's caught your eye today?" Amp felt her cheeks grow hot and her fur stand on end with embarrassment.

“Baarrb stoop!” Amp protested completely embarrased covering her ears with her paws.
Barb just chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on, Amp, it's pretty obvious," she said, nudging her little sister playfully. "I've never seen you light up like that before."

"I don't have a crush!" Amp protested, her voice muffled by her paws. But even as she said the words, she couldn't help but think of Tiny's kind smile and the way his fur shimmered in the light.

Barb just winked at her, clearly not fooled. "Sure you don't," she teased, ruffling Amp's hair.

Amp couldn't help but stick her tongue out at her sister, which the rock queen mimicked immediately with a laugh, raking her paw through the trollings hair again.

Notes:

I rewrote this a few times so let me know if there are any mistakes!

Chapter 7: Coopers first heat P1

Cooper walked through the halls with his twin brother Prince Darnell, telling him all about the next party Poppy was throwing next week. He gestured wildly, nearly knocking over a vase of glowing mushrooms. Darnell caught it with a laugh, placing it back on its pedestal. "You gotta watch where you're going, Coop."

 

The funk/pop omega had just returned from Pop Village late last night, after the world tour had made choosing a permanent home impossible. So Cooper settled on splitting his time—two months here in Vibe City, two months there among the glitter and chaos of Pop village. His suitcase, still half-unpacked in the corner of his bedroom, overflowed with candy from Poppy and a pungent plant from branch to calm his nerves during travel. Essence had already commented on the wonderful smell drifting from his room.

 

The alpha twin smiled, adjusting his gold chains. "So, what's the theme this time? Glitter bombs? Or that thing where Poppy makes everyone wear edible hats?"

 

Cooper bounced on his platform boots. "i loved theNacho hats! They were *awesome*, D!

"Cooper grinned, eyes wide with delight as he recalled Poppy's latest culinary invention.

 

Prince D chuckled, smoothing his pink fuzzy jacket. "Dad actually wants to steal that idea for next month's Funk Festival. Tortilla hats with guacamole reservoirs right in the center." He tapped his forehead meaningfully. "Says she revolutionized snack mobility."

 

They rounded the corner toward the throne room, its towering double doors shimmering with embedded quartz. Cooper tripped over his own shoelaces—but D caught his elbow without breaking stride. "Seriously, Coop. You're gonna give Mom a heart attack before she even sees us." Cooper just grinned, adjusting his bucket hat until it sat crooked again before tying his shoe.

 

Inside, Essence and Quincy sat on their glowing hovering thrones, deep in discussion with Rhythm and Blues about their latest inventons. Essence's blue dreads swayed as she nodded thoughtfully, her diamond necklace catching the light. Quincy leaned forward, his gold chains clinking softly, pointing at a blueprint. The scent of ozone and warm electronics hung thick in the air.

 

Cooper bounded forward, nearly colliding with a floating holographic display. "Mom! Dad! Poppy's doing a *glow-in-the-dark* karaoke party next week! With bioluminescent microphones!" Essence turned, her expression softening instantly as she took in her omega son. She rose gracefully, her layered gown swirling around her ankles, and opened her arms. Cooper dove into the embrace, his bucket hat tilting precariously as she pressed a kiss to his temple, leaving shimmering blue lipstick behind. "Welcome home, sweetheart," she murmured, breathing in his unique scent—part Pop sweetness, part Funk’s earthy undertones, all Cooper.

 

Quincy chuckled, adjusting his gold shades. "Glow microphones, huh? Last time we visited Pop Village, Branch nearly short-circuited their entire power grid trying to 'optimize' Poppy's disco ball." Rhythm snorted, tapping the blueprint. "Speaking of optimization, Your Majesties—our new bass-booster prototype could use Cooper's input. Omegas hear frequencies alphas miss." Cooper perked up, already drifting toward the humming device emitting soft violet pulses. Darnell hovered close, subtly positioning himself between his twin and the intricate wiring.

 

Essence watched Cooper’s fingers flutter near the machine’s resonance coils, her gaze softening. "Careful, darling," she murmured, her voice a low hum beneath Rhythm’s technical chatter. Cooper nodded absently, his focus locked on the pulsing violet light, while Darnell’s hand hovered near his brother’s elbow—ready to pull him back if those unpredictable Pop reflexes kicked in.

 

Rhythm snapped his toolkit shut with a metallic click. "That’s our cue, Blues," he announced, nudging his partner. Blues bowed, holographic schematics dissolving into glittering dust. "We’ll recalibrate the dampeners tomorrow, Your Majesties."

 

Cooper beamed at the retreating inventors, rocking onto the balls of his platform boots. "So, about those nacho hats—" The words died in his throat. He swayed violently, his bucket hat tumbling off as color drained from his blue skin. The throne room’s lights suddenly flared too bright, then a hum distorting into a metallic screech started going off inside his skull. His knees buckled.

 

Darnell lunged, catching Cooper just before he hit the polished floor. "Coop!" The omega’s weight sagged against him, limp and alarmingly hot. Cooper’s scent—usually a comforting blend of candy floss and damp earth—spiked sharply sour, laced with panic. Essence was already beside them, her cool paws pressing against Cooper’s flushed neck. "Darling? Look at me." Cooper’s eyes fluttered, unfocused, his breathing shallow and rapid. Quincy was barking orders, his deep alpha voice cutting through the sudden chaos. "Guards! Fetch the medical staff—*now*! And clear the room!"

 

The throne doors slammed open as Funk Troll guards ushered out the lingering staff. Essence cradled Cooper’s head in her lap, her dreads brushing his cheek. "Shh, sweetheart. We’ve got you." She exchanged a tense glance with Quincy—this wasn’t a typical dizzy spell. Cooper whimpered, curling instinctively toward her scent, fingers clutching weakly at her gown. Darnell hovered, fists clenched, his own alpha instincts roaring to shield his twin.

 

Cooper’s scent deepened abruptly—vanilla cupcakes baking under a summer sun, rich and cloying. It flooded the quartz-lit chamber, thick enough to taste. Quincy stiffened, recognition flashing behind his gold shades.

 

"Out!" Quincy's roar shook the hovering thrones, a raw alpha command that sent vibrations through the polished floor. He whirled on the remaining guards—alphas all—his purple skin flushed dark with protective fury. "Every alpha! Out of this room *now*! Replace yourselves with omegas from the staff! Move!" Guards scrambled, the heavy doors thudding shut behind them, sealing the space. Only the royal family remained—Quincy, Essence, Darnell—and the rapidly fading Cooper.

 

Cooper trembled violently in Essence's lap, sweat beading on his blue skin as the cloying sweetness of his heat-scent intensified, thick as syrup. His eyes rolled back, a soft whimper escaping his lips. "M-mom... too hot... dizzy..." Essence held him tighter, her cool dreads brushing his burning forehead. "We know, sweetheart, we know," she murmured, her voice steady despite the alarm tightening her throat.

 

The throne room doors hissed open silently this time, admitting a swift, efficient trio of omega medics bearing supplies They moved with practiced calm, their own soothing scents of lavender and chamomile cutting through Cooper's distress pheromones. The lead medic, a silver-furred troll with gentle eyes, knelt beside Essence. "Highness, his vitals are stable but spiking – textbook pre-heat crash. We need to get him to his nest *now*." She pressed a sensor to Cooper's wrist, the device chiming softly green. Before speaking he got the prince to swallow some liquid medicine "He’s clear for transport. The nest environment will regulate him faster than anything we can do here."

 

Quincy didn’t hesitate. He scooped Cooper into his arms with surprising gentleness, cradling his limp son against his broad chest. Cooper’s head lolled against Quincy’s shoulder, a soft, pained sigh escaping him as the king’s familiar, grounding scent of aged parchment and deep amber enveloped him. "Easy, pup," Quincy murmured, his deep voice a low rumble against Cooper’s ear. Essence rose smoothly, gathering Cooper’s fallen bucket hat and tucking it protectively against her side. "Darnell," she said, her voice clipped with urgency, "Can you go ahead and contact Harper? Tell her Cooper's condition. She'll want to know."

 

Prince Darnell nodded, already tapping commands into his wrist-com.

 

The medics flanked Quincy as he strode toward the private royal quarters, Essence keeping pace with a hand resting protectively on Cooper's shuddering back. Cooper's scent deepened with every step—vanilla frosting melting over warm asphalt—making Darnell's nostrils flare despite the suppressants in his gold chains.

 

One of the medics  went ahead to prepare Cooper's nest, pulling back the layered blankets with gloved hands, touching only the very edges.

 

The lead medic kept pace with Quincy's long strides, her voice low but urgent. "His core temperature is climbing dangerously, Your Majesty. We must remove his outer layers immediately—the sweater and boots trap too much heat." She gestured to Cooper's fuzzy pink sweater, already damp with sweat against his fur.

 

Quincy reached Cooper's nest room—a cavern softly lit by bioluminescent moss, walls draped in shimmering fabrics Poppy had gifted him. Quincy knelt, carefully lowering Cooper onto the plush center, the omega instinctively curling into the familiar textures with a weak sigh.

 

Essence moved with swift precision, her paws gentle but firm as she unbuttoned Cooper's fuzzy pink sweater. "Easy, darling," she murmured, peeling the damp fabric away. The lead medic worked on Cooper's platform boots, unlacing the yellow cords with practiced speed. Cooper's skin beneath was flushed a deep violet, heat radiating off him in waves.

 

Quincy placed a steadying hand on Darnell's shoulder, the prince's knuckles white where he gripped the doorframe. "D," the king said, his voice low but edged with alpha command. "lets  step out to give him some privacy." Darnell hesitated, his gaze fixed on Cooper's trembling form, but a sharp glance from Essence had him nodding stiffly.

 

Essence worked with the medics, her movements efficient and gentle. They peeled away Cooper's sweat-drenched black tank top, revealing the delicate scent glands at his collarbones, flushed and pulsing with heat. The lead medic made a soft, approving sound as Cooper instinctively burrowed deeper into the nest, seeking the lingering scents of his family woven into the blankets. "Good," she murmured, carefully putting the damp garments in the nearby laundry shoot.

 

Outside Cooper's nest room, the low murmur of urgent voices cut through the heavy silence. Lownote, his orange-striped fur slightly ruffled, arrived flanked by Rhythm and Blues. He carried a sleek, humming device under one arm, his golden-framed shades reflecting the dim hallway light. "Quincy?" Lownote’s voice, usually smooth and confident, held a rare edge of concern as he approached the king and Prince Darnell standing next to several guards. "Rhythm and Blues alerted me. How is he?"

 

Quincy ran a hand over his beard, the gold chains at his neck clinking softly. "Pre-heat crash. Medics are stabilizing him now."

 

Beside Lownote, Blues placed a calming paw on her mate’s arm,. "His nest needs familiar scents," she stated, her voice low but decisive. "I’m going in to help."

 

Lownote nodded, handing her a small, humming device. "Thermal regulator—set it to low oscillation near his feet." Blues slipped past the guards, her own omega presence a wave of cool mint that made Cooper whimper softly in recognition. Inside the nest, Essence was arranging Cooper’s favorite Poppy-made quilt—glow-in-the-dark stars stitched into the fabric—around his shoulders as he shivered. Blues knelt, placing the device with precision. Cooper’s breathing hitched, then eased as the subtle vibrations seeped into his muscles.

 

Outside, Quincy turned to his brother, his voice tight. "This is his frst heat, Lownote. Why is it so bad? Why like *this*?" The king’s knuckles whitened.

 

Lownote adjusted his golden shades, the rose lenses hiding the sharp calculation in his eyes. "The Pop Village exposure?" he mused, tapping a claw against his chin. "Different flora, unfamiliar pheromone signatures… it could have acted as a catalyst. Or perhaps it’s simply his biology aligning fully now." He sighed, the feathery boa around his neck puffing slightly. "I won’t know for certain until I examine him after the heat subsides. His vitals during the crash were erratic in ways I haven’t seen in standard omega presentations."

 

Inside the nest, Cooper whimpered softly as Essence pressed a cool, damp cloth to his forehead whith his head resting in her lap. Blues carefully nestled Cooper’s own bucket hat beside him, its familiar scent of candy floss and Pop Village sunshine weaving into the familial aromas already saturated in the blankets. Cooper’s trembling eased fractionally, his fingers curling weakly around the hat’s brim. "its ok baby," Essence murmured, her voice a soothing hum beneath the soft thrum of the thermal regulator. "Just rest, sweetheart. We’re right here."

 

The medicine, a swift-acting blend of moonpetal extract and chillroot, finally surged through Cooper’s veins like liquid ice. The frantic hammering of his pulse slowed, the oppressive heat receding like a tide pulling back from scorched sand. His eyelids grew impossibly heavy, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks as the metallic screech in his skull faded to a distant hum. A long, shuddering sigh escaped him, his body going utterly slack against Essence’s lap, the frantic tension melting away into exhausted surrender.

 

The queen remained perfectly still as Cooper's breathing deepened into the slow, rhythmic pattern of drugged sleep. Only the slight tremor in her hand, still resting against his fever-damp cheek, betrayed her tension. Blues quietly gathered the discarded damp cloths and empty medicine vials, her movements precise and silent. "The suppressants will hold him under for eight hours, Majesty," she murmured, her voice barely disturbing the nest's quiet. "Deep sleep is the best healer now."

 

Essence didn't acknowledge Blues immediately. Her gaze traced the sharp lines of Cooper's face, slackened in unconsciousness – the faint furrow between his brows smoothed away, the frantic pulse at his throat calmed. *My baby,* the thought pierced her calm facade like a shard of ice. He’d been so small when he’d rolled away, vanishing into the terrifying unknown. Years of searching, years of aching absence, only to have him stumble back home… and now this. A fierce protectiveness warred with a profound confusion within her. How could the cheerful, resilient Cooper who’d thrived amidst the chaotic energy of Pop Village suddenly crumple like fragile glass?

 

Outside the nest room, Quincy paced like a caged predator, his heavy footsteps echoing softly on the polished stone floor. Darnell leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the closed door. Quincy stopped abruptly, turning to his brother. "Lownote," he growled, the sound low and strained. "That bass device Rhythm and Blues were testing. Could it have been the trigger? An overload his senses couldn't handle?" He gestured sharply towards the throne room, his rings flashing. "He was fine one moment, talking excitedly, then…" The king trailed off, unable to voice the image of Cooper collapsing, scent souring.

 

Lownote adjusted his golden-framed shades, the rose lenses reflecting Quincy’s agitated form. "No. The bass frequencies were calibrated for omega-safe thresholds," he countered, tapping data streams flickering across his wrist-com. "his Pheromone must have been triggered some how." Lownote's brow furrowed as he scrolled through Cooper's recent physical notes, "I knew i should have finished his wrist communicator first." mumblng to himself.

 

All funk trolls had wrist communicators that tracked everything inclding their health stats. The standard models were produced in the Engineering Bay of the Vibe City ship. But royal communicators—(whch included Himself, his mates, Quincy, Essence, Darnell, and Cooper) were crafted personally by Lownote Jones in his private lab. Each was a masterpiece of encrypted channels, bio-signature locks, and emergency protocols only he could bypass. Cooper’s unfinished prototype lay in a lockbox on Lownote’s workbench now, its silver casing gleaming under the lab’s violet lights—a silent rebuke for the delay that had left the prince’s vital signs unmonitored during the crash.

 

Lownote’s claws hovered over the sleek screen of his own communicator, pulling up Cooper’s sparse historical data. Pre-heat spikes had been minor blips before—brief periods of lethargy easily managed with cooling packs and chamomile tea. This sudden, violent escalation was unprecedented.

 

"It could possibly be an environmental contaminant," Lownote murmured, claws tapping thoughtfully against his wrist communicator. "Something he absorbed in Pop Village or even here that interacted poorly with his physiology." His gaze flicked toward Cooper's closed door. "The timing coincides with his return."

 

For the next several days, Cooper's nest room became the quiet epicenter of Vibe City's royal wing. The medics rotated shifts—Blues anchoring the nights with her steady presence—while Essence remained there for every second. She cataloged every subtle shift: Cooper's fever spiking like wildfire one moment, then plunging into chills the next; the way his scent cycled from cloying sweetness to sharp, distressed musk whenever unfamiliar scents happened to seep through.

 

during this time the funk family had a long time to think. Essence and Quincy decided this was the first and last time it would happen. Their pup would never have to go through this again. They would make sure of it. Cooper needed protection. He needed boundaries. He needed to be kept safe from the dangers he didn't even know existed. Essence voiced it quietly one night, her fingers combing through Cooper’s damp hair as he slept fitfully. This was setting her on edge, omega heats were only this bad (sometimes) when they got old enough to need to mate.

 

Inside the nest room, Cooper stirred. A deep, bone-weary sigh escaped him as the oppressive fog of heat finally lifted. His eyelids fluttered open, sticky with sleep, blinking against the soft glow of his own star-stitched quilt. The frantic, feverish buzz beneath his skin was gone, replaced by a profound, hollow exhaustion. He felt wrung out, fragile, like spun sugar after a rainstorm. Essence’s cool hand immediately smoothed back his damp braids. "Welcome back, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice thick with relief.

 

On the sixth day his fever broke. Cooper surfaced slowly, blinking against the soft glow filtering through his star-stitched canopy. The frantic buzzing beneath his skin had vanished, leaving only a profound, hollow exhaustion that weighed him down like wet sand. He shifted weakly, inhaling deeply. The nest smelled overwhelmingly of Essence’s cool lavender and Quincy’s rich amber musk, layered thickly over the faint, fading traces of his own distressed candy-floss scent. Blues noticed his movement instantly, her quiet presence materializing beside the nest. "Easy, Prince Cooper," she murmured, pressing a glass of water infused with electrolytes to his lips. The cool liquid was bliss against his parched throat.

 

Cooper managed a weak swallow, his gaze drifting past Blues to find Essence seated beside him. Relief flooded her regal features, softening the worry lines etched deep during the endless vigil. Without a word, she leaned forward. Her cool lips pressed gently against his forehead—once, twice—leaving faint blue sparkles behind. Then his temple, each kiss a soft benediction. His cheekbone next, the touch lingering. Essence didn't rush.

 

Cooper blinked slowly, the world still soft-edged and hazy. "Mama?" His voice scraped like gravel, thin and confused. He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but the lingering exhaustion pressed him back down onto the nest pillows. His brow furrowed, genuine bewilderment clouding his eyes as he looked from Essence's relieved face to Blues' careful monitoring. "What... happened?" He glanced down at himself, noticing the unfamiliar softness of the quilt tucked high under his chin instead of his usual fuzzy sweater. His fingers plucked weakly at the fabric.

 

Essence gently captured his wandering hand, pressing it between both of hers. Her touch was grounding. "You had a very difficult heat, sweetheart," she explained softly, her voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of something heavier. "It came on suddenly, very intensely. You've been resting here for almost a week." She brushed a stray dreadlock from his forehead, her gaze searching his face. "Do you remember anything?"

 

Cooper blinked again, slow like a sleepy turtle. His brow furrowed deeper as he tried to grasp at fragments – the loud bass thumping, Darnell’s worried face swimming above him, the terrifying feeling of his insides melting. "Loud…" he mumbled, his fingers tightening slightly on Essence’s. "Felt… fizzy? Then… cold. Really cold." He looked down at his bare arms beneath the quilt, then back up, confusion deepening. "Where's my sweater?"

 

Blues moved efficiently, retrieving Cooper’s familiar pink-and-dark-pink striped sweater from a nearby shelf where it had been carefully folded. "Right here, Prince Cooper," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "We needed to keep you cool during your fever. But now…" She glanced meaningfully at Essence. "A shower would help wash away the last of the fatigue. Freshen you up."

 

Essence nodded, already unfolding a soft, thick bathrobe woven from cloud-wool fibers—deep blue, the royal color, but lined with Cooper’s favorite fuzzy fleece. "Let’s get you covered, darling," she murmured, helping Cooper sit up slowly.

 

Cooper wobbled slightly as Blues eased the robe over his shoulders. The familiar scent of his bucket hat, placed thoughtfully on a nearby pillow, drifted toward him—dusty sunshine and worn leather—and he instinctively reached for it. Essence gently guided his hand away. "Shower first, sweetheart. Hat after." Her tone was velvet, but firm. Cooper blinked, compliant but visibly adrift, his movements sluggish as Blues steadied him toward the adjoining washroom.

 

Blue walked ahead to start the shower, steam while Essence helped Cooper shuffle toward the washroom. His legs felt like overcooked noodles, trembling with each step. Essence paused just inside the doorway, her hand lingering on his elbow. "Sweetheart," she murmured, her voice soft but edged with concern. "Do you think you can manage the shower alone? Or should Blues stay?"

 

Cooper blinked slowly, processing. The hot steam curling around the doorway smelled sharp and clean, cutting through the lingering medicinal haze in his nostrils. He shifted his weight, testing his jelly-like legs. "Uh... alone?" he ventured, uncertainty lacing his gravelly voice. "I think... yeah?" He patted clumsily at the plush robe sleeve, as if reassuring himself it was real. Essence studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp beneath the worry. Finally, she nodded. "Alright. But call out immediately if you feel dizzy." Blues stepped back, positioning herself just outside the washroom door, her posture alert.

 

The shower stall was a haven of smooth, warm stone. Cooper leaned heavily against the wall as the hot water cascaded over him, washing away the sticky residue of fever sweat and lingering distress scent. He scrubbed mechanically, the familiar motions grounding him slightly.

 

Outside, Essence moved with quiet efficiency. She pulled soft, worn pajamas from Cooper's dresser—faded purple pants patterned with tiny stars and a loose gray shirt smelling faintly of sleepy comfort. Folding them neatly on the padded stool beside the nest, she tapped the communicator band on her wrist. "Quincy honey," she murmured, her voice low and urgent. "He's awake. ive already told lownote to get his communicator ready for cooper. The fever broke cleanly. Blues is supervising the shower now."

 

The bathroom door slid open, releasing a cloud of steam thick with the clean scent of soaproot and bergamot. Cooper emerged wrapped in the plush robe, damp dreads clinging to his neck and skin flushed pink from the heat. Essence moved instantly, scooping his folded pajamas from the stool—the soft gray shirt smelling faintly of sleepy comfort and worn purple star-patterned pants. She pressed them into his hands, her fingers lingering briefly over his. "Here you go, sweetheart," she murmured, her gaze sweeping over his face for any sign of lingering fatigue. "Get dressed nice and slow. your father will be here when you get out." Cooper blinked, clutching the familiar fabric like an anchor, before shuffling back into the steam to change.

 

He returned moments later dressed in the soft pajamas, movements still slow but steadier. The fuzzy fleece lining brushed against his skin, comforting and familiar. Blues stepped forward, offering his green bucket hat. Cooper snatched it eagerly, settling it low over his damp braids with a sigh of pure relief. The worn leather smell enveloped him, cutting through the medicinal remnants still clinging to the air. He patted it twice, securing it like armor, before shuffling toward his nest. Essence guided him gently by the elbow, her touch light but firm as he lowered himself onto the edge of the quilted platform.

 

Quincy arrived just as Cooper sank into the pillows, his tall frame filling the doorway. Relief softened the king’s stern features as he crossed the room in three strides. Without preamble, he knelt beside the nest, gathering Cooper into a gentle embrace. Quincy’s deep amber scent—clove and smoked vanilla-engulfed Cooper, layering over Essence’s lavender. Cooper melted into it, his forehead pressing against his father’s shoulder. Quincy didn’t speak, just held him, one broad hand cradling the back of Cooper’s head beneath the bucket hat. The silence spoke volumes: the frantic worry, the sleepless nights, the sheer terror of almost losing him.

 

Lownote slipped in moments later, his orange-striped face etched with relief. "how are you feeling cooper?" he asked, holding up a sleek silver wristband. "ive got your communicator prototype ready for sync." Cooper blinked, staring at the device with vague curiosity.

 

Quincy eased back slightly, keeping one hand resting protectively on Cooper's shoulder. Essence leaned in, her voice soft but firm. "This will let us monitor your vitals, sweetheart. And call us anytime." She took Cooper's wrist gently, guiding it toward Lownote. Cooper's fingers trembled slightly as the cool metal clasp closed around his thin wrist. The screen flickered to life with soft blue glyphs.

 

Cooper stared at the unfamiliar device, then lifted his gaze, confusion deepening the lines around his eyes. "But... *why*?" His voice was still raspy, but clearer now. He looked from Essence to Quincy, then to Lownote. "What... happened?

 

Lownote cleared his throat, adjusting his golden-framed shades. "We had to wait until you were fully lucid and stable," he explained, his tone measured and scientific. "We didnt want to overwhelm you with our scents during the peak of your heat." His gaze flickered to the communicator on Cooper's wrist. "This device will track your vitals remotely, but I need you at the medical center for a full diagnostic scan to make sure there are no lingering issues." He paused, studying Cooper's pale face. "We need to understand what triggered such a violent onset. First heats are supposed to be mild at most."

 

Cooper blinked slowly, his fingers tracing the smooth edge of the communicator band. The cool metal felt alien against his skin. He glanced at Essence, her lavender scent wrapping around him like a shield, then at Quincy’s steady amber presence. His gaze drifted past them, landing on his chunky white platform boots tucked neatly beside the nest entrance. They looked sturdy. "Okay," Cooper murmured, his voice still rough but decisive. He patted his bucket hat twice. "Can... can I wear my boots? They got the good laces." He pointed vaguely toward the shoes. Essence’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally at his simple request.

 

Quincy stood, his hand lingering on Cooper’s shoulder. "Of course, son," he said, his voice deep and reassuring. He retrieved the boots himself, kneeling to slide them carefully onto Cooper’s feet. The thick soles clunked softly against the floor as Cooper pushed himself upright, wobbling only slightly. Blues moved instantly to his other side, offering her arm. Cooper leaned into her support, his steps still slow but purposeful. Essence walked ahead, smoothing her layered gown, her regal posture returning as they prepared to navigate the palace corridors.

 

---

laying in the medical machine that cooper couldnt remember the name of, cooper stared at the glowing symbols scrolling across the curved ceiling panel. The diagnostic scanner hummed softly around him, its blue light washing over his pajamas. He flexed the fingers of his free hand, the unfamiliar weight of the communicator band pressing against his wrist bone.

 

Behind the thick observation window, Essence pressed her palm flat against the glass, her diamond necklace catching the sterile light. Quincy stood rigid beside her, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Lownote adjusted his rose-tinted shades, murmuring technical terms to Rhythm who frantically scribbled notes on a datapad.

 

Inside the scanner’s humming chamber, Cooper wiggled his toes inside his chunky boots. The blue light pulsed rhythmically across his star-patterned pajama pants. He sniffed. The air smelled like ozone and cold metal, nothing like the warm lavender-and-vanilla safety of his nest. He counted the glowing glyphs scrolling overhead. Seventeen... eighteen... nineteen...

 

Lownote’s orange-striped fingers danced across the control panel outside, his brow furrowed behind his golden-framed shades. Rhythm leaned in, whispering urgently as diagnostic streams flickered across multiple screens. "Baseline vitals nominal... pheromone cascade stabilized... no neural inflammation markers..." Lownote muttered, scratching his purple goatee. He tapped sharply at a final sequence. The scanner’s hum faded abruptly. "Nothing," he declared, straightening up. "No physiological anomalies. No residual energy signatures. His system’s clean as a polished synth-crystal." Quincy’s crossed arms tightened, knuckles whitening.

 

The curved chamber door hissed open, releasing a puff of chilled air. Cooper blinked against the sudden brightness, shuffling out in his star-patterned pajamas and heavy boots. Essence was there instantly, her cool hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing the fading glitter-kiss mark near his temple. "All done, sweetheart," she murmured, her lavender scent wrapping around him.

 

Quincy stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Cooper's shoulder. "Lownote found nothing wrong using the machines," he stated, his deep voice tight with lingering concern. "Theres only a few options about why this would have happened." Essence's fingers tightened slightly on Cooper's arm, her diamond earrings catching the harsh medical light as she exchanged a silent, weighted glance with her husband.

 

Lownote cleared his throat, adjusting his feather boa. "We need to consider external triggers," he said, tapping his datapad. "Unfamiliar alpha pheromones, stress-induced hormonal surges. has anything changed recently?"

 

Cooper looked ebarrased but answered anyway  tilting his head thinking "No, er nothing major.."

 

Quincy frowned deeply. "Cooper," he said slowly, "did anything feel... *off*... before you collapsed? Anything unusual?" His amber scent sharpened with paternal intensity.

 

Cooper scrunched his nose, fiddling with the edge of his bucket hat. "Nope," he mumbled, staring past Quincy's shoulder at the blinking scanner. "I barely remember collapsing at all."

 

Lownote sighed, the feathers of his boa rustling softly. "The diagnostics show no internal cause," he conceded, tapping his datapad. "We'll implement continuous monitoring through the communicator—heart rate, pheromone fluctuations, neurological activity. If another episode occurs, we'll capture real-time data." His tone was pragmatic, but his eyes behind the rose-tinted lenses held a flicker of frustration. "For now, that's our best recourse."

 

Cooper lifted his wrist, squinting at the sleek silver band. The glyphs pulsed faintly. "Does it..." He hesitated, brow furrowed beneath his bucket hat. "Does it work all the way in Pop Village?" His voice was quiet, tentative. "Like... when I go back?"

 

Quincy and Essence exchanged a single, loaded glance—a silent conversation flashing between them in the sterile medical light. Meanwhile, Lownote’s gaze shifted sharply toward his brother, a subtle frown tightening his orange-striped features behind his rose-tinted shades. The air thickened with unspoken tension.

 

Lownote hesitated, his fingers tightening around his datapad. "It... will," he confirmed slowly, his voice careful. He quickly lowered his scent glands—cooling his sharp citrus-and-metal scent to something softer—not wanting Cooper to feel the spike of his frustration. His nephew's innocent question had scraped raw against the unresolved argument simmering beneath the sterile air. Cooper blinked, trying to pinpoint what was wrong. He had been working on telling trolls emotions apart but it was still hard.

 

Quincy stepped forward, placing a broad hand gently on Cooper's back. "Let's get you back to your nest, son. You need rest more than anything right now." His gaze flickered toward Essence, a silent command passing between them.

 

Essence nodded, her layered gown swishing softly as she guided Cooper toward the medical bay doors. "Your father's right," she murmured, her lavender scent wrapping around him like a protective shield. "We'll discuss everything once you've recovered properly."

 

Quincy lingered for a moment, turning to face Lownote. His expression softened, the rigid lines of concern easing slightly. "Thank you, brother. For everything today." His amber scent warmed with genuine gratitude, cutting through the sterile air. Lownote dipped his head, the feathers of his boa brushing his chin. "Always," he murmured, but his gaze remained sharp behind his rose-tinted shades. As Quincy moved to follow Essence and Cooper, Lownote’s voice lowered, pitched only for his brother’s ears. "Quincy." The king paused. Lownote stepped closer, his orange-striped features grave. "Be careful with this decision. Binding him here... it might not be the shield you think it is. Omegas need space to breathe too." His words hung heavy, unspoken tension thickening between them.

 

Cooper shuffled down the corridor, his platform boots echoing softly against the polished metal floor.

 

He paused near a mural of swirling synth-waves, tilting his head beneath his bucket hat. "Hey," he perked up, his voice still scratchy from exhaustion though. "Where's D? He was right there before i fell asleep."

 

Essence's hand tightened gently on his arm. "Your brother is handling some royal duties," she said smoothly, her lavender scent wrapping him like velvet. "He'll visit you soon." Cooper blinked slowly, accepting her words with a soft hum, though his fingers traced the star pattern on his pajama sleeve absently.

 

He thought for a moment before turning to Essence, "Does mom know?" Cooper asked softly, his fingers plucked nervously at a loose thread on his star-patterned pajama sleeve. "About... about the heat being so bad?"

 

Essence paused mid-stride, her layered gown whispering against the polished floor. She gently turned Cooper to face her, her cool hands framing his cheeks. Her diamond necklace glittered as she leaned close, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead where the glitter-kiss mark had faded. "Yes," she murmured against his skin, her lavender scent deepening with maternal warmth. "I sent someone to get her the moment your fever broke." She brushed a stray dreadlock from his eyes. "She had to go back to get some more of your items from Pop Village, but she'll be back later."

 

Cooper nodded, his shoulders relaxing beneath the star-patterned pajamas. He shuffled forward again, leaning slightly into Essence's steadying arm.

 

Back in his nest room, the lavender-and-vanilla scent wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Cooper kicked off his chunky boots clumsily, letting them thud onto the plush rug beside his nest. He crawled over the quilt Blues had retrieved earlier, fingers tracing the familiar softness. Essence tucked the edges around him, her cool hand brushing his forehead. "Rest now," she murmured, taking his hat gently and placing it on the nightstand.

 

Outside the doorway, Quincy stood silhouetted against the corridor light, his broad frame tense. Essence joined him, closing the door until only a sliver remained open.

 

"He doesn't like it," Quincy murmured, his deep voice barely audible. He rubbed his temples, the gold rings on his fingers glinting dully. "Lownote thinks we're suffocating Cooper with this protection."

 

Essence watched the sliver of light from Cooper's door cut across the corridor floor. Her layered gown rustled as she straightened, the diamond necklace cold against her throat. "Lownote worries about freedom," she countered softly, her cool tone belying the tension in her shoulders. "But Cooper nearly *burned* through suppressants in only a week. Until we know what triggered that heat..." She trailed off, the unspoken danger hanging between them. Her lavender scent sharpened with resolve. "We need Harper."

 

Quincy sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. He ran a hand over his blue beard, gold rings catching the low light. "Then we will have to wait for her to return. Harper understands Cooper's needs better than any us." His gaze drifted back toward the sliver of Cooper's doorway.

 

Inside the nest, Cooper shifted beneath the quilt. He pulled Essence’s discarded shawl closer, burying his nose in the soft fabric saturated with her calming lavender scent. The communicator on his wrist pulsed gently, casting faint blue glyphs across the ceiling.

 

He fumbled for the device, tapping the screen clumsily. Poppy’s cheerful icon flashed—a pink flower with glittering eyes. Cooper hesitated, thumb hovering. He *wanted* call Harper, tell her about the scary heat, the weird scanner, the way his parents watched him like cracked glass. But heat-talk with Mom meant soft questions and worried glances, and his cheeks burned hotter just thinking about it. Poppy was one of the close omegas he usually talks to about this stuff. He sighed, letting his arm flop back onto the quilt.

 

He raised it again, squinting at Poppy’s icon. Poppy wouldn’t do the soft-voice thing. Poppy it not a quiet troll by any means which is why Cooper and her (as his family would call it) *vibe* so well together.

 

Cooper tapped the icon. The communicator chimed softly, projecting a holographic ring above his wrist. It pulsed once, twice—then Poppy’s face shimmered into view, pink and grinning, her hair a cascade of magenta curls. "Cooper!" she chirped, her voice tinny but bright. "You okay? Your mom said you passed out!"

 

Cooper wiggled deeper into his nest, pulling Essence’s shawl up to his chin. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Heat hit me weird. Like… *bam!* then i don't remember anything after that." Poppy’s holographic face scrunched up, leaning closer until her nose almost phased through the projection. "Oh my gosh! you had your first heat?!Do they know why it was so bad?"

 

Cooper shrugged, fingers tracing the communicator’s smooth metal band. "Yeaa not as magical as everyone said it would be.Lownote scanned me. Said nothing’s broken inside." He hesitated, glancing toward the sliver of light at the door.

 

Poppy leaned closer, hologram shimmering. "Okay, but—did something *happen* before? Like, weird smells? Stress?"

 

Cooper blinked. "Uh... not really? we were just talking" His brow furrowed beneath his bucket hat.

 

Poppy’s hologram bounced impatiently. "About *what*? Details!"

 

Cooper scrunched his nose beneath his bucket hat. "Just... Pop Village stuff! like your party."

 

Poppy's hologram flickered violently, her magenta curls vibrating like agitated snakes. "My party?! Cooper, you *collapsed* after talking about my party?!" Her voice sharpened to a near-squeal. "Oh my gosh did the thought of planning it stress you out?!"

 

Cooper blinked slowly, adjusting his bucket hat. "Nah, Poppyseed," he mumbled, nestling deeper into Essence's lavender-scented shawl. "I was...chill" he had to think still trying to get used to vibe city slang.

 

Poppy's hologram flickered, her magenta curls freezing mid-vibrate as Cooper's words landed. "Chill?" she repeated slowly, her glitter-painted eyebrows knitting together.

 

Cooper nodded, his eyelids already drooping as the communicator's soft pulse synced with his heartbeat. "Totally chill," he murmured, nestling deeper into Essence's shawl. "Just... talking 'bout your party... and the bass... felt warm... then i guess i just fell."

 

Poppy's hologram softened, her magenta curls settling as she leaned closer. "Coop," she said gently, her voice losing its tinny edge. "You look like really tired still. Like, *really* tired." She mimed drooping eyelids with her fingers. "Maybe... sleep?"

 

Cooper hummed agreement, already half-buried in Essence's shawl. "Yeah," he mumbled, eyes drifting shut. "G'night, Poppyseed." The communicator flickered as he tapped it clumsily, Poppy's worried smile dissolving into blue static before winking out entirely. Silence swallowed the nest, thick and lavender-scented, broken only by Cooper's deepening breaths and the communicator's rhythmic pulse.

Apparantley Cooper was more tired than what he had thought because he only woke up hours later to a the doorbell ringing lightly. Cooper blinked slowly, rubbing his eyes beneath his bucket hat. The communicator on his wrist pulsed steadily, casting soft blue glyphs across Essence’s shawl still draped over his shoulders. Outside the nest, Quincy’s silhouette filled the doorway, his broad frame softened by the corridor’s low light. "Hey, kiddo," Quincy rumbled, his deep voice deliberately gentle. He stepped inside, the gold rings on his fingers catching the glow. "Feeling strong enough to join us for dinner?" He paused, studying Cooper’s bleary expression.

 

Cooper pushed himself upright, the quilt pooling around his waist. "Yeah," he mumbled, rubbing his cheek where Essence’s sparkly lipstick kisses had dried. "Kinda hungry." Quincy’s beard twitched in a hidden smile as he offered a hand. Cooper took it, his fingers dwarfed by Quincy’s calloused grip.

 

Downstairs, the dining hall smelled of roasted root vegetables and smoked fish—Essence’s favorite comfort meal. Quincy led him to the seat near his twin, Prince Darnell, who was silently shredding a napkin into confetti-thin strips. "Hey," Cooper mumbled, sliding onto the cushioned bench. His brother smiled at him "Hey C, sorry i didnt get to see you before your nap" Darnell’s fingers stilled, the shredded napkin forgotten as he pushed a steaming bowl of spiced broth toward Cooper.

 

The heavy  doors slid open without warning. Essence glided in, her layered gown whispering against the polished floor like wind through dry grass. Beside her walked Harper who quickly ran over to Cooper, her turquoise hands already sketching frantic arcs in the air. "Cooper! cupcake! Your mom was explaining to me what happened—how are you feeling? Any dizziness?" Her mismatched eyes scanned him with unnerving precision. Cooper was so happy to see her "Mom!" Cooper’s grin widened beneath his bucket hat. "I’m okay! Just sleepy." He gestured vaguely at his wrist communicator. "uncle Lownote hooked me up with this thingy." Harper’s fingers paused mid-air, her gaze locking onto the device’s pulsing glyphs. "Huh," she smirked happily and turned to the king and queen who had taken their seats "You guys have everything under control i see."

 

Quincy chuckled, swirling his spiced broth. "yeah some of this tech keeps surprising even me." He nodded toward Harper. "Sit, sit! Essence insisted we wait for you two."

 

Harper slid onto the the chair beside Cooper, its funk-troll dimensions swallowing her small frame making the table go just below her chest. Cooper giggled, pointing at her with a spoon. "Mom, you look like a kid playing grown-up dinner!" Harper grinned, adjusting her cream dress. "Well, cupcake, your grandparents built this table for giants," she said.

 

Prince D paused cutting into his fish, "What's a cupcake?" He asked Harper, tilting his head until his gold earring caught the light. Harper blinked her mismatched eyes—red and green like traffic signals—before bursting into laughter. "Oh! It's a Pop Village dessert! Tiny cakes Cooper loved as a hatchling." She ruffled Cooper's bucket hat affectionately. "i call him that because once he-"

 

Cooper's spoon clattered onto the table. "Mom!" he hissed, cheeks flushing neon-pink beneath his hat brim. He frantically waved his hands as if swatting invisible bees. "Don't tell that story! Seriously!" Harper paused, her paintbrush-textured hair quivering with amusement. Cooper leaned across the table, whispering urgently, "Not the cupcake story. Please?" His eyes darted toward Prince D, whose curiosity had sharpened into a predator's focus.

 

The teal omega burst out laughing, paintbrush-hair bouncing. "Okay, okay! Your secret cupcake shame stays for now." She smiled at Cooper, who slumped in relief, bucket hat sliding sideways. But Harper's gaze flickered toward Essence—just for a heartbeat—and her lips curved in a silent promise the queen acknowledged with an almost imperceptible nod. Cooper, busy wrestling his spoon from the broth bowl, missed the entire exchange.

 

Prince D nudged Cooper's elbow. "Seriously," he murmured, gold earring glinting. "What happened with the cupcake?" Cooper groaned, cheeks flushing beneath his fur. "Later," he hissed.

 

---

After dinner both twins were quick to excuse themselves to their rooms, Cooper claiming exhaustion while Darnell said something about his hover board. Essence waited until their footsteps faded down the corridor before turning to Harper, standing as her layered gown pooling like spilled ink around her chair legs. "Harper," she began, her voice smooth as cooled lava, "might Quincy and I borrow you for a moment? in our room so we can talk privately." She didn't wait for an answer, already rising. Quincy followed, his heavy tread echoing Harper's smaller, quicker steps across the polished floor.

 

They sat in the small sitting room before their actual bedroom, not wanting to overwhelm the omega with their scents, Harper perched on a low velvet ottoman. Essence settled onto a chaise lounge, arranging her gown with deliberate calm, while Quincy sat next to her.

 

"Harper," Essence began, her voice low and measured, "Cooper's heat came violently and without warning. We've ruled out physiological causes. This was externally triggered." She paused, her glitter-ringed eyes locking onto Harper's mismatched gaze. "You know Cooper's rhythms better than anyone. His routines, his habits in Pop Village. What changed?"

 

Harper leaned forward, elbows digging into her knees. "He'd been buzzing about Poppy's party for weeks," she said, fingers unconsciously sketching arcs in the air. "But Cooper thrives on excitement. Stress doesn't knot him up—it unwinds him."

 

Quincy shifted, his rings clicking against the chaise's armrest. "Harper," he began, voice a low bassline beneath Essence's melody, "we're considering... a permanent arrangement." Essence's fingers tightened imperceptibly on her gown's tinsel trim. "Cooper would live aboard the ship. Full-time."

 

The air thickened Harper's pupils dilated—sudden, ink-blot spills swallowing her mismatched irises. That look Quincy had seen before: the primal flare of a mother convinced her pup was being stolen. Harper's knuckles whitened around her skirt hem. "Cooper's sixteen," she said, too evenly. "He picks his nests." Her voice didn't shake, but the paintbrush-strands of her hair trembled. "Im his mother too, he imprinted on me im not going to let him go into distress away from me."

 

Essence lifted a calming hand, the blue sparkle of her nail polish catching the low light like fractured ice. "Harper," she murmured, her voice velvet-wrapped steel, "we would never take a trolling from their omega." She leaned forward, the diamond necklace swinging gently. "We hoped *you* might move aboard too. Cooper’s been away from Pop Village for long stretches. We think… his distress might stem from being separated from you." She paused, letting the implication settle—a shared nest, shared guardianship. "Your studio could be relocated. We have more than enough space."

 

Harper’s shoulders relaxed marginally, her fingers unclenching from her skirt. "Hes going to be devastated," she whispered, paintbrush-hair shifting like agitated bristles. "Pop Village is his heartbeat."She met Essence’s gaze squarely. "But if Cooper’s safety hinges on proximity…" Her voice trailed off, the unspoken *yes* hanging in the air. "My studio’s portable. I’ll rerender my murals anywhere."

 

Quincy leaned forward, rings catching the low light. "We’ll tell him tomorrow," he rumbled, relief softening his beard’s blue edges. "After breakfast. Let him sleep properly first."

 

Harper nodded, already mentally repacking her portable pigment dispensers. "He’ll need his Pop Village comforts-guess im making another trip to pop village."

 

 

Notes:

Gonna try to finish luciano part 2 after

Chapter 8: Luciano ch 2

They sat in that cage for what felt like hours, the silence broken only by Trollzart's occasional muffled coughs and the distant rumble of Barb's rampage. Essence, noticing Trollzart's hunched posture and the way he kept pressing a hand to his lower abdomen, scooted across the cold metal floor. "Honey, you look like you're carrying the world, you should lay down." she murmured, her funk-infused voice softening.

Trollzart shook his head sharply, beads of sweat catching the dim light on his yellow skin. "No, no beds," he rasped, his voice strained. "The heat... it's already..." He trailed off, gesturing weakly towards the thin mattress pads shoved against the wall. The air hung thick and stifling, radiating off the fortress walls themselves, and Trollzart knew lying down would press his fur directly against that oppressive warmth.

Essence leaned forward, her purple brows furrowed with concern. Her voice, usually commanding, softened noticeably. "Sweetpea, listen," she insisted, her gaze flicking towards Trollzart's tightly clasped hands resting protectively over his abdomen. "You look like your about to collapse. That cold stone floor might be the only cool thing in this wretched place. You need to rest, conserve your strength." She gestured firmly towards the unoccupied patch of floor.

She gently guided him down until he was sprawled on his side, then carefully slid the bag containing the egg against his chest. "There. Keep it against you." Trollzart instinctively curled around the bag, a shudder of relief running through him as the egg's warmth seeped into his aching muscles. Essence settled beside him, she put his head on her lap which was cushioned by her gown then started to rub his back.

Delta Dawn watched Trollzart's breathing slowly even out, her brow furrowed. "Barb's got a plan," she stated flatly, her hooves scraping against the floor. "Separatin' us from our tribes ain't just cruelty. She's isolatin' the symbols. Without us leadin', resistance crumbles faster." Trollex pulsed a dim, worried cyan. "She has our Strings, but... why gather *all* the leaders?" Essence's fingers paused on Trollzart's shoulder. "Because," she whispered, dread coating the word, "the show ain't just for the rock tribe. It's for *us*. She wants us to watch."

Trollzart shifted, a low groan escaping him as the egg pressed uncomfortably against his ribs. Essence gently adjusted the bag. "Easy now," she murmured. "Focus on keeping your little one safe."

Without warning, the cell door exploded inward with a deafening screech of tortured metal. Barb stood silhouetted against the volcanic glare, her mohawk bristling like furious spines. "WHERE IS SHE?" she roared, slamming a fist against the doorframe hard enough to crack the obsidian rock. "That pink pest Poppy! My scouts came back empty-handed AGAIN!" Spittle flew from her fangs as she scanned the cell, her gaze landing venomously on each leader. "You guys know something! Where is she hiding?!"

King Quincy instinctively shifted closer to Essence, shielding her slightly. "We're locked in a cage, Barb," he stated evenly, though his voice held an edge. "How would we know?"

Barb stomped forward, kicking aside a discarded piece of metal plating that clattered harshly. Her eyes narrowed scans across the huddled group. "Don't play dumb! We know her group were in your ship earlier.

Barb stopped dead. Her furious gaze snapped from King Quincy to Trollzart, who lay curled tightly on his side on the dusty floor, Essence's hand resting protectively on his back. Barb tilted her head, confusion momentarily cracking her rage. "Why's he laying on the floor?" she demanded, pointing a sharp-nailed finger at Trollzart.

Essence kept her voice calm and smooth as silk. "He's unwell, Barb. Just needs rest." Trollzart squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face harder against Essence's gown, desperately trying to shield the egg bulge beneath him with his arm. Barb snorted dismissively. "Stuff and nonsense! Trolls don't get sick! Get him UP!" She took a threatening step forward, her boot grinding into the grit.

Her sharp eyes scanned Trollzart's curled form, landing on the worn burlap sack tucked tightly against his chest. "And what's that?" she snapped, pointing accusingly. "All your stuff was confiscated! What're you hiding?"

Essence's hand tightened subtly on Trollzart's shoulder, her voice maintaining its soothing cadence. "A small comfort, Barb. Just something to ease his rest." Trollzart pressed his face harder into her gown, his entire body rigid with tension.

Barb's eyes narrowed to crimson slits. "Comfort?" she spat, kicking a stray bolt across the cell. "We don't *do* comfort in Rock Territory!" She lunged forward, her clawed hand darting toward the suspicious bulge beneath Trollzart's arm. "Hand it over!"

Essence reacted instantly. Her arm shot out, blocking Barb's wrist with surprising strength. "He's fragile!" she hissed, the calm facade cracking. Barb recoiled, snarling, but Essence's intervention bought a crucial second. Trollzart scrambled backward, pressing himself against the cold metal wall, clutching the sack desperately to his chest. Barb whirled, snapping her fingers sharply. Two Rock Troll guards flanked her instantly, their jagged guitars raised like weapons, strings humming with menace. The air crackled with the threat of discordant shredding. "Last chance," Barb growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Give. It. Up."

Trollzart trembled, the heat of the cell suddenly unbearable against his skin. He saw the guards' fingers poised over the strings, ready to unleash a sonic blast. The thought of that raw, violent noise hitting the precious, fragile life curled within the burlap—the tiny heartbeat he felt faintly through the rough fabric—filled him with pure terror. It wasn't fear for himself. It was a primal, desperate urge to shield the egg. With a choked gasp, he thrust the sack forward, his voice a ragged whisper lost under the guards' amplified humming. "Take it! Just… don't play." His eyes, wide with anguish, locked onto Barb's. "Please. The music… it could shatter it."

Barb snatched the sack roughly, her initial fury momentarily replaced by sharp confusion. "Shatter *what*?" She tore open the sack, expecting contraband, maybe a weapon, perhaps a pathetic Troll comfort trinket. Instead, the smooth, yellow glittery surface of the egg caught the dim light, its faint, rhythmic glow pulsing softly against her greyish-red fingers. Her aggressive stance faltered. The guards exchanged uneasy glances, their fingers instinctively lifting from the guitar strings. The aggressive hum died abruptly, leaving an echoing silence thick with shock. Barb stared, her harsh expression slackening. "An… egg?" Disbelief warred with something else—a flicker of stunned realization.

Without a word, Barb snapped her gaze towards Essence and Quincy. Her eyes, usually burning with rock fury, held a sharp, silent command. She tilted her head sharply towards the cell door. Essence understood instantly, her own protective instincts screaming. She subtly shifted her weight, nudging Delta Dawn and Trollex back with a gentle press of her arm against theirs, clearing a path. Barb didn'tt wait for confirmation. She gestured sharply with her chin towards Trollzart, still trembling against the wall. Two guards, their aggression replaced by bewildered caution, moved forward. They didn't grab Trollzart roughly; instead, they moved with surprising care, each taking an elbow with deliberate gentleness, lifting him away from the hot stone. Barb watched, her usual sneer absent, replaced by a tight-lipped scrutiny as they guided Trollzart out of the stifling cell.

Barb led the way, her boots echoing sharply against the volcanic rock. The guards followed, with trollzart walking between them. Thye seemed to be going deeper underground. Yet, despite plunging further beneath the volcano's fiery heart, the corridors remained unnervingly busy. They passed cavernous chambers carved into the rock, some echoing with the chaotic clang of blacksmiths forging guitars, others packed with Rock Trolls practicing deafening riffs or arguing loudly. The sheer density of Barb's tribe was overwhelming—every niche seemed occupied, every shadow held movement.

Trollzart stumbled slightly as they turned a corner. His mind felt sluggish, thick with exhaustion and the lingering panic for his egg. But a new confusion pierced through the fog. "But..." he murmured, his voice raspy, "I thought Rock Trolls preferred heat? Like... lava-level heat?" He gestured weakly at the bustling activity around them. "Why so many rooms... down here?"

Barb didn't turn, her pace unwavering. "Metal," she stated flatly, the word echoing sharply off the volcanic walls. Ahead, the corridor opened into a vast, dimly lit cavern. Compared to the oppressive heat above, the air here held a distinct chill. "My Metal Trolls," Barb continued, her tone clipped but lacking its usual aggression, "they forge the axes, the guitars, the gear. They *like* the cooler." She gestured with a jerk of her chin towards the cavern floor below. "Keeps their heads clear, stops the metal from warping mid-bend. Down here's where they temper the steel."

Trollzart blinked, his bleary gaze focusing past Barb’s shoulder. The cavern wasn't empty. Instead of roaring furnaces and clanging hammers, he saw clusters of small, partitioned alcoves carved into the rock walls. Inside each alcove, shielded from the corridor's main path by thick, dark curtains partially drawn back, Trollzart glimpsed figures – Trolls from different tribes. Several Classical Trolls sat on simple beds, their expressions weary but unharmed. A Funk Troll gently rocked a tiny bundle wrapped in soft fabric. Near them, a Techno Troll hummed softly, her pixelated fins glowing softly in the gloom as she patted the back of a fussing hatchling. The air carried a quiet murmur of whispers and soothing sounds, not music. These weren't prisoners like the leaders; these were caregivers, protectors, huddled protectively over eggs and newborns.

Barb didn’t slow, but her voice lowered, almost conversational amidst the cavern's quiet hum. "Yeah," she grunted, nodding towards the alcoves. "Your tribe’s egg-carriers. Funk’s. Techno’s. Even a few Country stragglers." She shot him a sideways glance, her usual sneer softened by something pragmatic. "Couldn’t have ‘em upstairs. Too hot. Too loud. Too... chaotic." She gestured vaguely upwards where the relentless drumming still vibrated faintly through the stone floor.

They descended a narrow staircase carved from the rock itself, emerging onto a quieter landing. Barb stopped before a heavy iron door, its surface scarred but functional. She fumbled with a large, crude key from her belt loop. "This one's empty," she grunted, pushing the door open with a metallic groan. Inside, the air was still and cool, smelling faintly of damp stone and old iron. The room was small, functional: a sturdy stone slab bed topped with a thin, soft-looking grey blanket, a chunky wooden dresser missing a drawer, and a single, unlit iron sconce on the wall. Barb stepped aside, her usual swagger replaced by an awkward stiffness. "It's... cooler," she stated, her gaze fixed somewhere near Trollzart's feet. "For... you know."

The conductor shuffled past Barb, feeling the immediate relief of the cooler air on his skin. He sank onto the edge of the stone bed, the rough surface a stark contrast to the blanket's surprising softness. Barb lingered in the doorway, her jaw working silently as she watched him cradle the egg. "Right," she finally rasped, turning abruptly. "Guard stays outside. Don't try anything stupid." She slammed the door shut with unnecessary force, the clang echoing sharply in the small space before the heavy lock clicked into place.

Outside, Barb leaned against the cold iron door, the chaotic rhythm from distant forges suddenly grating. She scrubbed a hand over her face, the phantom weight of Trollzart's egg unnerving her. "Carol!" she barked down the corridor. Her drummer materialized almost instantly, drumsticks twirling idly. "Yeah?"

"Get one of the nurses to sit with him," Barb growled, drumming her fingers against the doorframe.

Carol blinked slowly, stretching her arms overhead until her knuckles popped. "Right-o, Boss," she mumbled, shuffling down the corridor with all the urgency of a snail on vacation.

Barb stormed back toward the fortress's upper levels, the air thickening with heat and the dissonant clang of half-tuned guitars. She shoved past a group of Rock Trolls practicing synchronized headbanging, ignoring their startled yelps.

The main stage cavern buzzed with frantic energy. Scaffolding groaned under Trolls tightening bolts on towering speaker stacks, while others wrestled cables across the volcanic rock floor. Barb scanned the chaos, her gaze sharp as obsidian shards. There—Riff balanced precariously on a metal beam high above, adjusting a cluster of blinding spotlights. "Riff!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the din like a power chord. "Down here. Now!"

He slid down the scaffolding pole, landing lightly beside her. "What's up,?" Riff asked, wiping grease from his hands onto his torn pants.

Barb didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on a distant point where the tunnel curved into darkness. "That egg," she muttered, the word sharp against the backdrop of clanging metal. "Why wasn't Trollzart searched properly? Why was he even *allowed* that bag?" Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous rasp.

Riff froze mid-step, drumsticks dangling from his limp fingers. "Egg?" The word felt alien on his tongue.

Barbs head turned quickly, her eyer drilling into him. "He had it hidden. In that sack *you* let him keep." Her voice scraped like gravel over stone. "You didn't check it." Jabbing her finger pointedly.

Riff jumped slightly and felt the drumsticks slip from his fingers. They clattered against the scaffold's metal frame, echoing sharply in the sudden silence that fell around them. Rock Trolls nearby paused their welding and hammering, eyes flicking nervously between Barb and her right-hand troll. The cold knot in Riff's stomach tightened. He remembered Trollzart's frantic clutch at the sack, the way he'd hunched protectively over it. He'd chalked it up to Classical Troll fussiness. A stupid assumption. "Boss, I... it looked like junk," he stammered, scrambling for an excuse. "Just Trollzart's weird little trinkets!"

Barb didn't shout. Her voice was a low, grinding tremor that vibrated through the scaffold beneath Riff's boots. "Junk?" She leaned closer, the jagged edge of her earring catching a stray spark from a nearby welder. "That 'junk' is a *life*, Riff. An egg. Vulnerable. Unprotected." Trolls started backing away slowly before they became targets. "Because you didn't *look*."

Her hand shot out, clamping onto Riff's forearm like a vice. He yelped as she hauled him bodily off the scaffold. They crashed onto the main cavern floor, scattering a group of trolls tuning guitars. Barb didn't pause, dragging him stumbling past roaring forges and stacks of amplifiers. "Home," she snarled, ignoring his frantic apologies. "Now."

Barb’s personal cavern wasn't the molten heart of the fortress. Deeper still, past the clanging metalworks, lay a narrow tunnel lined with jagged obsidian. It opened into a surprisingly quiet space. Walls were smoothed rock, hung with faded band posters and a single, dented wall plates. A worn drum kit sat in one corner, a sagging couch piled with leather jackets in the other. The air smelled faintly of stale beer and weed.

She shoved Riff inside. He stumbled, catching himself against the couch arm. "Barb, listen—" he started, voice tight. Barb slammed the heavy wooden door shut. The thud echoed sharply in the confined space. She didn’t turn around immediately. Her shoulders rose and fell with a slow, deliberate breath. When she finally faced him, her eyes weren’t blazing. They were cold. Focused. "You had *one* job," she stated, each word clipped. "Pat down the prisoners. Find anything they hid. That egg wasn’t tucked under his jacket, Riff. It was *in* the sack. Right there."

Riff swallowed hard. "It was dark! And messy! Trollzart was panicking—" Barb cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Excuses," she hissed. "That egg changes everything. Rock Trolls don’t mess with hatchlings. Ever. Not even *my* trolls." She paced away, running a hand over her mohawk. "Carol’s setting up Trollzart’s new cell. Cool stone. Quiet. But if that egg gets hurt? Because *you* were careless?" She spun back to him. "The other leaders already think we’re monsters. This? It makes us look like *animals*."

He flinched at her tone. "Barb, I—" "Save it," she snapped. Her voice dropped lower, almost weary. "You’re my right hand. My drummer. But right now? You’re a liability." She jabbed a finger toward the door. "Go. Guard Trollzart’s cell personally. Don’t let *anyone* near him except medical staff." Her eyes narrowed. "Fail me again, and I’ll bench you for the apocalypse concert."

He nodded and quickly scampered off.

Down in the cool, dim corridor outside Trollzart’s cell, Carol leaned against the stone wall, polishing her leopard-patterned elbow pads. Her expression was characteristically lazy, but her eyes tracked Riff’s approach. "He’s quiet," she murmured. "Keeps humming to it. Classic." Riff peered through the open door. Trollzart sat cross-legged on the bed, one hand resting protectively over his egg, eyes closed in concentration.

Inside, Riff shuffled awkwardly, the heavy door clanging shut behind him. Trollzart didn’t flinch—just kept humming a soft, pulsing rhythm that seemed to vibrate through the damp air. "Uh," Riff began, drumsticks twisting in his grip. He cleared his throat. "Hi."

Trollzart’s eyes blinked open, calm and assessing. "Riff." His voice was steady, almost warm. He remembered the quick, subtle nod Riff had given him earlier in the corridor—a tiny spark of defiance when Barb wasn’t looking.

Riff scuffed his boot against the stone floor, drumsticks tapping nervously against his thigh. "Look, I... I’m sorry, Trollzart. Really." He glanced at Carol through the barred window, who raised an eyebrow before turning away to inspect her gloves. "If I’d known about the egg—" His voice cracked. "I would’ve brought you straight down here."

Trollzart shifted slightly, his hand still resting protectively over the egg’s faint glow beneath his fur. "You weren’t cruel," he murmured, his voice low and resonant. "you were just trying to comfort me and i appreciate that."

Carol’s shadow fell across the threshold as she pushed the heavy iron door shut with a dull thud, sealing them in. The latch clicked like a final punctuation mark.

Riff sank into the crude metal chair opposite Trollzart, its legs scraping against the stone floor. His beanie slipped slightly, revealing a sliver of anxious blue eye. "Im surprised your even willing to talk to me," he muttered, drumming his gloved fingers nervously on his knee. "After... well, everything."

The Classical leader's gaze remained steady, though exhaustion etched lines around his eyes. "Oh trust me im furious at what you and your tribe are doing," he admitted, fingers tracing slow circles over his hidden egg. "But anger requires energy I'm conserving for *this*." Gesturing towards his egg.

Riff leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Look... Barb's methods? Brutal. No denying that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But she's not *evil*. She genuinely believes forcing everyone to rock out together will... I dunno, fuse the tribes back into one big family again. Like before pop split us."

Trollzart's brow furrowed, the faint melody he'd been humming to his egg fading entirely. "Family?" His deep voice resonated with quiet disbelief. "Barb tears tribes apart, imprisons leaders... and speaks of *family*?" He paused, his hand pressing more firmly over the egg's soft luminescence beneath his fur. "How is this different from what Pop did centuries ago? They also demanded conformity. They silenced voices that didn't fit their tune." His gaze locked onto Riff, sharp and probing. "Barb seeks unity through domination, just as Pop did. Where is the harmony in that?"

Riff shifted uncomfortably, his drumsticks tracing nervous patterns on the cool stone floor. "Barb... she thinks rock's the only real music now," he mumbled, avoiding Trollzart's eyes. "She saw how scattered everyone was after Pop's reign. She thinks... she thinks forcing everyone into one loud, powerful beat is the only way to make trolls strong again." He swallowed hard, the earnestness in his voice battling his obvious discomfort.

Trollzart looked up again. "Strength?" His voice was low, resonant, cutting through Riff’s nervous energy. "Rock screams hatred for Pop’s old ways, for silencing voices. Yet here you stand, silencing *every* voice that isn’t rock. Barb destroys lands, imprisons trolls, steals strings... just to replace one song with another." He leaned forward slightly, the glow from his egg pulsing softly against his chest. "You condemn Pop for demanding conformity while forcing conformity yourselves. Where is the difference?"

Riff shifted his weight, the drumsticks in his hands suddenly heavy. "Barb... she thinks harmony comes from everyone *being* rock. Strong. Unified. No weak notes." He sounded less certain now, avoiding Trollzart’s piercing gaze. "It’s messy, yeah, but... she’s trying to fix what Pop broke."

Trollzart’s low hum vibrated through the cool air, a counterpoint to Riff’s faltering defense. "Fix?" The Techno King’s voice was dangerously soft, fingers tracing the pixelated shell beneath his vest. "By extinguishing every other rhythm? By silencing the symphony? True harmony isn't a single note played louder than all others—it thrives on difference." He paused, letting the pulsing glow from his egg illuminate the stubborn set of Riff’s jaw. "Your Queen mistakes domination for unity."

Riff shuffled his boots on the rough stone floor, the drumsticks tapping a nervous rhythm against his thigh. "Look, I just... I follow orders. Barb sees the big picture." He glanced at Carol, who leaned against the cell door with her usual stoic detachment, peeling a scorching-hot silver berry she’d produced from somewhere. "She’s got a plan. It’s... intense, but it’s gonna work." His voice lacked conviction, echoing faintly in the cramped space.

Trollzart just shook his head, his neon fins rippling softly in the cool air. "People 'just following orders' is how Pop tried taking over," he murmured, his deep voice surprisingly calm. He rested a hand protectively over the faint, warm pulse beneath his leaf-woven sling. "They silenced voices, buried rhythms they didn't understand. Said it was for harmony." His gaze locked onto Riff’s shadowed eyes beneath the beanie. "Sound familiar?"

After that the two trolls sat there in silence. The only sounds was there breathing and the sounds of others walking by the room.

Chapter 9: Poppy x Barb x Gia-warm cuddles

Poppy shuffled out of her room first thing in the morning, rubbing her arms as she stepped into the main area of her pod. "Brrrrrrrr!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

Gia sat curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, shivering visibly. Her usual glossy pink gem earrings seemed dull in the dim light of early morning. "It's freezing," she muttered through chattering teeth. The cold had crept into every corner of the pod overnight, turning their breath into misty clouds with every exhale.

Poppy bounded over to the thermostat, her pink lion tail flicking with irritation. She twisted the dial with both hands, leaning in as if sheer willpower could coax warmth back into their home. Nothing. The display flickered stubbornly at 30°F and stayed there.

Gia groaned, rubbing her arms. "Of *course* it's broken today," she muttered. The normally radiant Glitter Troll looked like a wilted flower—her rose gold skin had taken on an ashen hue, and her ribbon drooped limply around her waist. "Should we ask Branch if he can fix it?"

Poppy hesitated, biting her lip. A flash of Branch—buried in blankets, nose red, curled miserably in his bunker with Hickory fussing over him—flitted through her mind. She could practically hear his congested grumbles already. "No," she said, shaking her head briskly. "He just got over that fever last week, and you *know* how Hickory gets if someone tries to other him when he's recovering. Remember the glitter incident?"

Gia shuddered, pulling her headband lower over her ears. "Never again."

Poppy plopped onto the couch beside her, bouncing slightly on the cushion before curling her legs under herself. Her pink lion tail flicked once, then coiled around Gia's waist like an impromptu scarf. "Okay, new plan," she announced, already scooting closer until their shoulders pressed together. "We're gonna *share body heat*."

Gia blinked—then snorted, nudging Poppy with her elbow. "Wow. That's your big solution?" But she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in, her chilled rose-gold skin pressing flush against Poppy's warmer pink. The contact sent a shudder through both of them, but not entirely from the cold. There was something oddly comforting about the way Poppy's freckled nose bumped against her shoulder, breath ghosting warm along her collarbone.

Poppy wiggled closer, her tail tightening around Gia's waist with playful insistence. "Uh-huh! Best idea *ever*, right? Cuddle power is *literally* science." She punctuated this by flopping half on top of Gia, her dress rustling against the couch cushions. The fabric smelled faintly of sugar and yesterday's impromptu dance party—stale confetti clung to the hem, crunching under Gia's fingers when she absently brushed it away.

Gia exhaled a laugh, but the sound trembled at the edges. Poppy's warmth was a slow-burning ember against her side, seeping through the thin material of her dress. She could feel the exact moment Poppy's heartbeat synced with hers—steady and a little too fast, like they'd both been running. The rhythm pulsed where Poppy's freckled cheek pressed against her shoulder, where their legs tangled under Poppy's twitching tail.

"Still kinda cold," Gia admitted, flexing her fingers. The cold had seeped into her joints, leaving them stiff. She glanced at Poppy's hands—usually so animated—now curled into loose fists against her own thighs. The rosy flush had faded from Poppy's knuckles, leaving them pale. Gia hesitated, then caught one of Poppy's hands between both of hers. Poppy's fingers were icy. "Oh, wow. How are you *this* cold and still talking?"

Poppy grinned, breath puffing white between them. "Optimism keeps me warm!" She squeezed Gia's hands back, but her grip was sluggish. Their combined body heat wasn't doing much—just turning the biting cold into something duller, bearable but still insistent.

Gia exhaled sharply through her nose and made a decision. She twisted, sliding both arms around Poppy's waist and hauling her sideways until Poppy yelped and landed half in her lap. The sudden movement knocked Poppy's headband askew; the blue flowers tickled Gia's cheek as she tucked Poppy's chin over her shoulder.

"Better?" Gia muttered into Poppy's hair—which, despite everything, still smelled like strawberries and something sweetly chemical, like melted candy floss. Poppy made a muffled noise against her neck, nodding so vigorously that Gia felt the motion more than saw it. The weight of her was oddly grounding.

They stayed like that, tangled together in a shivering knot, until the front door creaked open with a violence that sent a draft curling around their ankles. Barb stood in the doorway, her mohawk tousled from the wind outside, fingers drumming against the doorframe. She took in the scene—Poppy half-sprawled in Gia's lap, their limbs woven together like vines—and snorted. "Damn. Dont you two look comfy."

Poppy's head jerked up, her tail tightening instinctively around Gia's waist before loosening again. "Barb! Get in here!" She stretched out an arm, already shifting to make space—until her gaze landed on Barb's bare hands, the raw red knuckles, the way her fingers curled stiffly against her sides. Even Barb's ears, usually flushed with warmth, had taken on a grayish tinge at the tips. "Wait—where's your scarf and gloves?!"

Barb shrugged, kicking the door shut behind her with a careless boot. "Hm? Oh. " She flexed her fingers dismissively, but Poppy didn't miss the wince. "Yeah, nah. Only wore 'em 'cause you guys gave them to me." Her grin was all teeth, walls. "I dont really *need* them anyway."

Poppy scrambled upright so fast her headband slid sideways—and Gia barely stifled a whine at the sudden loss of warmth. Before Gia could protest, Poppy was across the pod in two bounding strides and wrapping her arms around Barb's middle with enough force to make her fiance wheeze.

"You're *so warm*!" Poppy gasped, pressing her face into the torn fabric of Barb's tank top. Beneath the leather and metal studs, Barb radiated heat like a furnace left running—her skin practically sizzled against Poppy's chilled fingers. "Oh my *gosh*, why didn't you *lead* with this?!"

Barb rolled her eyes, but didn't pull away—just dug her boots into the floorboards to steady herself against Poppy's full-body koala grip. "'I thought you already knew that part, Pinky,"

Poppy blinked up at her, the realization dawning like slow syrup. "Ohhh," she breathed, pressing her cold nose into Barb's collarbone. A memory surfaced—last summer, when they'd all sprawled in the shade after a village dance-off, and Barb had been the only one not panting. Poppy had chalked it up to rock troll stamina back then. "You're like... a walking campfire!"

Barb scoffed, but her arms twitched—halfway between shoving Poppy off and pulling her closer. "Yeah, well. Side effect of growing up next to lava geysers." Her voice was gruff, but her fingers flexed against Poppy's back, instinctively spreading warmth where they touched.

Poppy gasped, pulling back just enough to beam up at her. "Oh my gosh! So all this time, you could've been our personal *heater*?" She swiveled her head toward Gia, who was watching them with narrowed, calculating eyes—already scooting to the edge of the couch, blanket half-raised like a net. "Gia! We've been cuddling *wrong*!"

Barb laughed again before speaking, "And do i get a say in this?" Barb asked, rubbing her face tiredly. She let out a yawn before continuing, "Look, i'll cuddle or whatever but we gotta go back to bed. I was up all night dealing with some bullshit."

Gia groaned as she stretched, "Fine, but i'm not letting Poppy steal all your body heat." She stood up, wobbling slightly as she walked over to them, draping herself over Barb's back like a particularly clingy cape. "Ohhh, you *are* warm," she murmured, nuzzling into the back of Barb's neck.

Barb rolled her eyes so hard it probably strained something, but the corner of her mouth twitched as she adjusted her stance to bear the weight of both trolls hanging off her. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she grunted, but the way she shifted to let Gia tuck icy fingers under her tank top betrayed her. She started walking—more of a lumbering shuffle really, given the two trolls clinging to her—toward the hallway. "Just don't whine when I accidentally smother you in your sleep."

Poppy giggled, her legs swinging midair where they hooked around Barb's waist. She nearly lost her grip when Barb abruptly hoisted her higher with one arm, the other looping under Gia's knees as she went full bridal carry on instinct. "Ooooh, *strong*," Poppy cooed, patting Barb's bicep appreciatively. The rock troll's skin was deliciously warm beneath her palm, radiating heat like sunbaked stone. Gia made a noise of protest as Barb jostled them both, but then immediately burrowed closer when the movement sent another draft curling up from the floor.

Barb snorted and adjusted her grip, theyre weight felt like nothing to her as she strode down the hallway toward the bedroom—Poppy's tail flicking against her ribs with every step, Gia's cold legs digging into her forearm. The floorboards groaned under her boots, a familiar protest she'd long since learned to ignore. She shouldered the bedroom door open. The room wasn't much warmer—frost curled along the windowpanes in delicate spiderwebs—but at least the bed was piled high with almost every blanket in the pod.

Poppy squirmed free first, launching herself toward the mattress with a triumphant "Cannonball!" that ended muffled as she belly-flopped into the quilt nest. Fabric puffed around her in a cloud of glitter and loose threads. Gia—ever the graceful one—twisted mid-air to land on her knees before crawling after Poppy, shivering violently as her bare feet left Barb's warmth.

Barb watched them for a heartbeat, arms crossed. Then she kicked off her boots—they hit the wall with twin *thunks*—and stalked over to the bed, yanking the blankets aside with one hand. "Move," she grunted, already flopping down between them.

The mattress groaned. Poppy yelped as she was unceremoniously rolled against Barb's side, her cold nose squashing into the other queens chest. Gia fared no better—Barb hooked an ankle around her waist and dragged a single tug.

Barb exhaled loudly through her nose, stretching her arms wide before letting them collapse heavily onto Poppy and Gia. "There," she mumbled into Poppy's hair. "Body heat distributors installed. Now shut up and sleep."

Poppy wriggled, her chilled toes seeking out the space between Barb's calves where heat radiated like coals. "But we haven't even—" A calloused hand clamped over her mouth.

"Sleep," Barb growled, her voice already thick. Poppy blinked—then grinned against Barb's palm as she felt the rock troll's breathing deepen almost instantly, her chest rising and falling in steady waves beneath Poppy's cheek. The weight of Barb's arm across her ribs was like a furnace, seeping warmth straight through her dress.

Gia huffed a laugh from Barb's other side, her fingers already curling into the hem of Barb's tank top, stealing heat shamelessly. "Wow. She really *was* tired," Gia whispered, her paw stirring the red strands of Barb's mohawk. The rock troll didn't stir—just snored once, sharp and guttural, before her face slackened completely.

Poppy bit her lip to keep from giggling, her own exhaustion creeping in now that the cold wasn't gnawing at her bones. She shifted just enough to tuck her tail over Gia's shins, the pink fur trapping what little warmth they'd managed to scavenge. Outside, the wind howled against the pod's walls, rattling the frost-laced windows. But here—sandwiched between Barb's furnace-like body and Gia's slowly warming limbs—Poppy could almost pretend it was summer. The thought made her eyelids heavy.

Gia's breath evened out first, her nose buried in the crook of Barb's neck where the rock troll's pulse thudded slow and steady. Poppy watched through half-lidded eyes as Gia's fingers finally unclenched from Barb's shirt, her whole body going lax in a way that spoke of deep, unguarded trust. It was rare to see the usually poised glitter troll so unraveled—hairband crooked, gem earrings askew, one leg hooked possessively over Barb's thigh like she was afraid the heat would vanish if she didn't anchor it down.

Poppy stifled a yawn against Barb's collarbone, her own limbs growing heavier by the second. The rhythmic rise and fall of Barb's chest beneath her cheek was hypnotic, the scent of leather and something faintly smoky clinging to her skin. She wiggled her toes experimentally—still cold, but no longer numb—and smiled when Barb grunted in her sleep, instinctively curling an arm tighter around her waist in response.