#gristle junior

[razzle-zazzle]

Brothers

9650 Words; Between AU, pre-canon

TW for death

AO3 ver

Gristle Junior was seven months and eleven days old on the day of his first Trollstice.

Or rather, he was seven months and eleven days old on what would have been his first Trollstice, were it not for the lack of trolls. And the day had started so well, too, anticipation electric in his veins as he bounced around his father’s room. He had been so ready to taste true happiness!

But the Trolls were gone, fleeing underground despite the best efforts of Chef’s underlings. Not a single Troll had been recovered, Gristle had been told, and from what little he had been able to see of the commotion—from the swinging shovels and pickaxes he had glimpsed in the plaza as he was being shuffled away from the action—supported that notion. Surely, if Trolls were being found, then surely there would be much less frustration.

But the day passed without a single Troll eaten. Gristle’s father, for who he had been named, had taken him aside to calmly explain that with no Trolls, Gristle would never be happy. Not ever. Nothing else could possibly work.

To a Bergen less than a year old, such words were absolute. And why should Gristle doubt his father? The King had lived for decades, an extent of time which felt like an eternity to Gristle Junior. Surely, if there was anyone who could know everything, it would be the King.

Gristle was seven months and eleven days old on the last chance he would ever have to know true happiness. The date clung to his mind, the damnation of eternal misery heavy in his chest. To a Bergen so young and inexperienced with the world, there could be nothing worse.

Chef was disgraced. Not a single Troll recovered, in all of that mess? Her exile was quick and loud—Gristle watched from the castle door with his father as Chef was bodily thrown through the gates, shouting curses he strained to hear. With a sigh, Gristle moved to turn away from the door, prepared to ready himself for bed.

“Your Majesty!” Two Bergens hailed down his father, bowing the moment the King’s eyes were on them. “We found…” The Bergen on the left had his hands cupped together oddly, perfectly concealing whatever would be inside. With a nudge from his partner, he bowed again, holding out whatever it was to the King. “We found this at the tree’s edge.”

Gristle Junior turned back towards the door, pressing against his father’s legs to peer at what was so urgent it couldn’t wait for daylight. The air was thick with anticipation as the Bergen’s fingers slowly parted, revealing what was delicately clasped in his hands.

It was a Troll.

Gristle’s eyes widened. His father inhaled sharply, peering down at the tiny shape curled in the palm.

The Troll stared up at them with wide eyes, curled in on itself and shaking. It was so small. How did creatures that small even exist?

The King hummed, leaning in further. Gristle Junior was quick to imitate, peering at the tiny Troll even more intently. This brought to light a detail that had been previously overlooked—a detail that seven month and eleven day old Gristle had no filter against pointing out.

“It’s gray.” Gristle said, peering down at the thing. Tiny, too. Could something so little really bring him happiness? “Is it sick?” He poked at the Troll, and it flinched back with a hiss, tail clutched in its paws.

“Inedible.” Gristle Senior growled out. He turned bared teeth to the pair before them. “Your effort is appreciated.” He said, “But there’s no use for a Troll that’s gone bad.” The King sighed, moving to reenter the castle. “Do as you wish with it.” He dismissed. “My son and I…”

Gristle Junior reached for the Troll. “It’s so small.” He whispered, staring down at it. Small and gray and baring blunted teeth in an approximation of a snarl… He looked up at the pair, eyes wide. “Can I have it?”

The Bergen holding the Troll hesitated, before tilting his hands towards Gristle. The Troll squeaked as Gristle scooped it up, voice tiny. Gristle squealed, clutching the Troll and running back inside, the rest of the world forgotten.

The Troll turned bewildered eyes up to Gristle. It trembled, shouting as Gristle turned a corner, but Gristle paid no heed to anything but the sheer novelty of his idea. His very own Troll! There was hardly much of a plan in the toddler’s head, but a simple idea was all Gristle really needed at his age.

Gristle bounced into his bedroom, Troll in hand. He moved to set the Troll down on the desk—

“Son!” Gristle Senior’s voice was seldom so loud—but when it was, it commanded attention from everyone in the area. And indeed, Gristle Junior turned his attention to his father, the Troll still squirming in his hand. “What are you doing?” Gristle had never heard his father at such a loss.

“Keeping it.” Gristle Junior said.

Gristle Senior walked across the room and peered down at the Troll on the desk, trapped between Gristle Junior’s hands. “A pet is a lot of responsibility, son.” He pointed out.

“You say the same about being Prince.” Gristle Junior responded.

Gristle Senior jolted slightly, taken aback. “That… is true.” He conceded. “But it’s a Troll.” He poked the Troll in question, sending it stumbling backwards onto the ground. “It will just get eaten.”

“But you said gray Trolls are inebidable!” Gristle Junior lifted the Troll—his Troll, up with cradled hands, pressing it against his chest. “That they’ve got no use, which means that eating them can’t do anything!”

“Inedible.” Gristle Senior corrected gently. He lowered down, to be closer to his son’s eye level. “Son, be realistic. The kingdom just lost all of its Trolls. Trollstice has been a tradition for more than a century. The shock of no more Trollstices will make the people desperate.”

The Troll stared up from Gristle Junior’s hands with wide eyes. Tiny claws too small to do any damage dug into Gristle Junior’s hand.

Gristle Junior huffed. “But they gotta listen to you, Daddy. You’re the King.” The people had listened when the King declared Chef exiled; Gristle had witnessed just that less than an hour ago. “If you say that my Troll is inedidible then nobody will eat it!”

The King sighed, tired and heavy. “You’ll need something to keep it in.” He advised. As his son cheered, he turned to the door, and made his way across the room. Once Gristle Senior reached the doorframe, he turned back to his son one more time.

“If I wake up tomorrow and find that thing is running around the castle, I will feed it to Barnabus.” He threatened. His face immediately lightened, and he left the room with a single, cheery, “Goodnight, son!”

Gristle Junior nodded at the closed door with the utmost seriousness. He turned back to his Troll, who he set on the desk gently. “Hear that?” He asked. “You stay in here, or else.” With that, Gristle propped his face up in his hands, leaning forwards. “My name’s Gristle. Yours?”

The Troll crossed tiny Troll arms and glared up at him. “I’m not telling.” It said, in a voice that reminded Gristle of the mice Barnabus ate.

“Then I’ll just give you one!” Gristle chirped. “How about… Trolly!”

“No.”

Gristle frowned. “You’re getting a name, no matter what.” He huffed, poking his Troll in the side. The Troll stumbled a bit, but remained standing. “You’re so grumpy.” Gristle noticed. “Just like… a Bergen…” He trailed off, something approaching realization creeping up his throat.

The Troll snarled. “Not a Bergen!” It insisted, tail smacking the desk.

Gristle stared. “You…” His eyes lit up. “You and I are gonna be best friends.” Gristle decided, poking his Troll again.

The Troll’s response was simple. Gristle yelped, yanking his hand back. The Troll fell over, rubbing at its mouth with tiny paws, and Gristle stared at the tiny teeth marks on his finger.

The Troll glared mutinously, as if daring Gristle to come within biting range again.

Gristle nodded. “Yep! Best friends!”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was nine months and two days old when he learned the Troll’s name. He had been poring through a pet care magazine, oo-ing and ah-ing over the different kinds of pets that Bergens kept. From alligator-dogs like Barnabus to even frog-crows!

He had hit the section for small pets, though none of the kinds commonly kept by Bergens were as small as a Troll. He looked over at the custom cage his father had had commissioned for his Troll, from the pod taken from the abandoned Troll Tree to the sandy substrate in the basin. As usual, his Troll was down on the substrate, pressed into the corner while it worked its way through safflower seeds.

“Look!” Gristle held the magazine right up against the cage bars, pointing at the circled bird perch. “How does a swing sound? I bet you’d have a lot of fun with it, Trolly.” He didn’t expect a response—the Troll rarely ever spoke back, content with glaring and darting away when Gristle reached into the cage.

Which meant it surprised him all the more when the tiny creature spoke. “Branch.”

Gristle opened his mouth to continue speaking—stopped. “What?”

“Branch.” The Troll repeated. “My name is Branch.” Its eyes were locked resolutely on the sandy substrate, shoulders hunched and tail thwap-thwap-thwapping against the corner.

Gristle gasped. “Oh!” He’d never thought—he—Branch—

“That’s a weird name.” Gristle finally decided, leaning in. “Are all Trolls named like that?” He couldn’t quite read well enough to digest all the books he’d found about Trolls (or that had Trolls on the covers), so his only real source of information was what former Troll-handlers Chad and Todd (or was it Todd and Chad?) could tell him, when he saw them. Which wasn’t often.

Branch gave Gristle a deer in headlights look, a helpless sort of “how-would-I-know” conveyed through body language alone. Paws clenched and unclenched against the seed held between them.

Gristle shrugged, and went back to the magazine. “So,” He said, “You never said if you wanted a swing.”

“Don’t bother.” Branch huffed. “I won’t use it.”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was five years old when his father led him into his study for the first time. The younger marveled at the book-filled shelves and neatly organized desk, at the candle holders set into the wall and the banners hanging down—this room was his future.

“My son,” Gristle Senior began. “What you will be starting today is a time-honored tradition of Bergen Royalty.” His voice had a practiced lilt, a deep timbre made of years of self-assurance. “For no Monarch rules Bergentown alone—it is the duty of Princes and Princesses to run the kingdom in concert with the reigning monarch.”

“Whoaaa…” Gristle Junior hopped up and down to see atop the desk. “I’m a Prince!” He realized, whirling around to face his father. “So I have to help you run!”

Gristle Senior chuffed. When he spoke, there was pride in his voice. “And that is exactly what you will start learning today.” He lifted his son with one arm, sitting down behind the desk and settling Gristle Junior in his lap. “Now,” He pushed a stack of books from the edge of the desk to the center. “Here are the best volumes to start with…”

The lesson continued on throughout the rest of the morning. After lunch with his father, Gristle Junior returned to his room with the stack of books he had been given, ready and willing to learn. He pushed open the door, and made his way over to the desk right next to his bed.

“There’s so many books I need to read!” Gristle lamented. “How am I ever going to learn it all?” He’d have to, though, to be a proper Prince of Bergentown. And he would! Bergens were tough, and royal Bergens were said to be the toughest of all! So Gristle would be the best Prince! No book could defeat someone as tough as him!

He was starting with history. But there was so much! He held out the book to Branch’s cage, showing off just how thick it was—and it was all pre-Trollstice, too!

Branch squinted at the tome, then returned to his digging. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. Which was weird, because Trolls were supposed to live in trees—every book Gristle had read on them said so. But the pod in Branch’s cage—taken directly from the Troll Tree, no less—remained just as empty as it always had. There was even dust building up along the top!

“I mean, how in the world am I ever going to remember all this?” Gristle slammed the book down on his desk, prying it open. He was glad for Branch—the Troll was a good listener, in the five year old’s eyes.

The Troll in question poked his head back up, ears twitching. “Are you going to read it, or are you just gonna complain?” He asked, before going back to the hole.

“Right.” Gristle turned his attention back to the book. Slowly, he began, sounding out the words as best he could.

“The first re-cor-did history of Bergenkind dates back to… three… fow-sand years ago.” He began. “When Fow-ler the First wrote the… the first ever Law.” He continued reading, stumbling over words while Branch continued digging. Gristle let the history wash over him, entranced in the task set before him. Hours passed, and Gristle found himself being called down to dinner before he even registered that so much time had passed.

Three days later, Gristle found himself staring at a worksheet in frustration. He was supposed to fill it out without looking at his books, and he was struggling.

“UGH!” Gristle threw his head back, clutching at his hair as he seethed. “How can I remember the name of the first Bergen to write a law but not when?!” He smacked his head against the desk, groaning in frustration. The urge to go to his shelf and pull out the relevant book itched down his spine—but he had to hold strong! A good Prince knew how to look things up, but a great Prince could recall whatever detail was needed when it was needed.

Oh, how was Gristle ever supposed to be a great Prince?

“The first recorded history of Bergenkind dates back to three thousand years ago.” Branch said, casually breaking the frustrated silence. “That’s what your book said.”

Gristle looked at Branch’s cage, where the Troll was busy jotting stuff down on a scrap of paper. Gristle then looked over to the book on his shelf. Slowly, he pushed out his chair and went over to the shelf, opening the book to the first page.

“That’s…” He turned back to Branch. “You’ve got a good memory.” He said, returning the book to the shelf.

Branch muttered something that Gristle didn’t quite catch. Gristle shrugged, and went back to his worksheet. He’d have to read aloud to Branch more often, if Branch could remember stuff so well.

With a hum, Gristle continued on with the worksheet. It probably wasn’t in the spirit of the challenge to have a friend who could remember a lot of words, but Gristle wasn’t concerned at all with that notion.

He continued to talk to Branch as he worked, something light in his chest with the knowledge that Branch really was listening.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was six years old, and he and Branch were having a real good row. The kind of row that, had they been proper siblings, would have only been able to be settled by some proper Bergen roughhousing, with weapons and property destruction. A real riot-causing dispute.

It was hardly their first disagreement—Gristle had the faint bite scars all over his fingers to prove it. But it was certainly frustrating, born from weeks of buildup over a simple fact.

“It’s not healthy! Trolls are supposed to sing!” Gristle gestured to the book in his hand, which was way more useful than all the cookbooks he’d found. It actually went a bit into Troll health and growth, detailing all the ways and times that Trolls could become inedible. As Branch was, and had always been gray—or at least, as long as Gristle had known him—the book in question proved very useful.

“Well I don’t!” And that was the crux of the situation, the simple fact from which all of this had spawned. “And I never will!” Branch’s stand was resolute, unshakeable, even in the face of all of Gristle’s Princely Rage.

“But you have to!” Gristle insisted, gesturing again to the page he had the book opened to. “Trolls that don’t sing—this book isn’t very nice about them!” He was fumbling, he knew, but he didn’t know how else to say it. The book said that gray Trolls were to be removed from the Troll Tree and disposed of immediately. It didn’t say why, and Gristle was still a child—he didn’t question the words presented as fact. As far as he could tell, a Troll that had gone gray was just… it wasn’t right!

“You’re supposed to be happy.” Gristle pushed. “You’re supposed to sing, like a regular Troll.”

“Never gonna happen.” Branch insisted. “I’ll stay unhappy, just you watch!” He crossed his arms with a huff, tail twitching angrily.

“That’s not good!” Gristle responded. “You have to get your color back eventually!” The book said nothing about whether Trolls could regain their color after losing it. But it wasn’t right, for a creature so intertwined with music to never make a single note. And if the book said to get rid of gray Trolls…

Gristle cared about Branch, more than he could feasibly admit. The castle staff were fine, and his father was his father, but Branch—Branch was a friend. Someone Gristle could talk to who would actually listen, no matter what it was.

The book said it wasn’t healthy for a Troll to go gray. Gristle was going to be King someday, in the far distant future, and he’d be responsible for all of Bergentown. Even sooner, he would be a fully fledged Prince, responsible for helping his father with Bergentown. If Gristle couldn’t even take care of one tiny troll, then what were his chances of ever being good at what he was literally meant to do?

“And then what?” Branch gripped the bars of his cage, rage in every inch of his body. “You’ll eat me?”

“Of course not!” Gristle could never! Branch was… Branch was his friend! Inedible by Royal Decree! Gristle would sooner eat Barnabus!

“You’re lying!” Branch yelled back. “The moment I become edible you or some other Bergen will be serving me up on a silver platter!” His tail lashed about wildly, tears bubbling up at the corners of his eyes. “Because that’s all Trolls are to you!”

Gristle flinched back. He… he refused to admit it, but Branch had a point. Trolls were the only way that Bergens could ever be happy, and they had spent generations with a holiday dedicated to that very thing. But…

“You’re different.” Gristle insisted. Branch was his friend. “You’re not… you never sing and you’re always unhappy.” He huffed. “It’s like you’re barely a Troll at all!”

This time it was Branch’s turn to flinch, tail falling flat against the ground. “Maybe you’re right.” He said quietly, turning away from the bars.

“Branch, I—” Gristle reached out, only for his hand to fall back down when Branch glared at him.

“Fine, then.” Gristle grumbled. “We’ll just be unhappy together.” Between the two of them, Branch was the only one who had even a chance to ever be happy—Gristle would never get to eat a Troll with all of them gone, but Branch… Branch was a Troll. If anyone would ever get to be happy, it would be the creature who was quite literally made of the stuff.

“Fine!” Branch sat down hard on the substrate, arms crossed and turned away from Gristle. “Unhappy together!”

It felt like a promise, like a finality.

It felt like Gristle was failing hard at this whole “taking care of others” thing.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was seven years old with a form in his hand. He stood before Branch’s cage, expanded over the years to include deeper substrate and a small climbing tree. The… well, it felt weird to call him a Troll, when he was nothing like Gristle’s books, but what else could he be called?

A Bergen. At least, that was what he’d be if Gristle’s idea went through.

“I’ve been learning about law.” Gristle began, with no real preamble. Branch looked up from his orange slice, ears twitching, but made no comment. “And I found out something interesting.” He took a deep breath, and glanced at the memo in his hand. “Adoption Laws, Section Two. In the case of a non-Bergen being adopted by a Bergen or other being of Bergen citizenry…” Gristle hurriedly looked at the memo again, “They are considered, in all aspects of the law, a Bergen, with all of the rights and restrictions that such a designation entails.” He let the memo flutter down to the floor and looked down at Branch, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

Branch clenched and unclenched his paws against the half-eaten orange slice in his lap, tail flicking behind him. “...what.”

“Listen.” Gristle leaned in close, holding up the form in his other hand. “If I adopt you, then you wouldn’t be in any more danger of being eaten!”

Branch squinted. “Aren’t you a little young to be a parent?” He asked, orange slice seemingly forgotten in his lap. “And I’m older than you.” He pointed out, somewhat bitterly.

“Ew! No! Not as a son!” Gristle waved his arms wildly, then pressed the form against the bars again. “As a brother.” He clarified. “Because… you’re more of a friend than a pet,” Gristle explained, “And it’s not fair to keep treating you like one. A pet.” He carefully gaged Branch’s expressions, watching as his face flickered through a series of emotions. “All you’d need to do is sign on this line…”

“It can’t be that easy.” Branch groused, tail flicking faster. “Bergens don’t do ‘easy’.”

“Well,” Gristle rubbed at the back of his neck, “We would have to get approval from Dad for it to go through.” He rallied, clenching his free hand in a fist. “But that’s easy! I mean, he let me keep you!”

“As a pet.” Branch stressed. He set the orange slice aside, brushing off his paws as he stood. “That’s totally different.”

“And that’s why I want to do this!” Gristle unlatched the cage door, not bothering to reach in—he had long since learned that Branch hated being picked up unexpectedly. Better to let Branch come out of the cage on his own terms. “Because what kind of Prince treats his friend like a pet?”

Branch’s expression fell, his shoulders hunching. His paws clenched and unclenched in the rhythmic way they often did, his tail flicking. Carefully, slowly, Branch clambered out of the cage, climbing down the flipped out door to settle on the smooth wood of the shelf. Gristle held out his hand, palm up, and Branch hopped onto it, letting himself be lifted over to the desk.

Gristle laid out the form. He’d double-checked every word to make sure it was exactly what he needed, and all that was left was to sign it and have it approved. Gristle had already signed it, his name penned in only slightly messy ink. Penmanship win!

Branch pulled a tiny quill from his hair, hopping up to gently dab it in the inkwell on the desk. As Gristle watched, Branch kneeled down in front of his line, and carefully signed his name.

“Think that’ll be enough?” Gristle asked.

Branch hummed. “Maybe…” He tucked the quill away and went back to the inkwell, hopping up and leaning so far in that for a moment Gristle feared he’d fall in. Branch kicked the side and lifted himself back and out, clambering over to the form and slapping right next to his name with his paws.

Two inky paw prints, right next to his name. “That should do it.” Branch decided, satisfied.

Gristle nodded, offering his hand again. As Branch hopped onto his palm and clambered up Gristle’s arm to his shoulder, Gristle grabbed the form carefully, blowing a bit to make the ink dry faster.

“Let’s get this done!” Gristle declared, running off to go find his father. It wasn’t the first time Branch had left Gristle’s room, nor the first time that Branch had ridden on Gristle’s shoulder. But it was the first time since the belled harness had been made that Branch had left the room without the jingle of bells signaling his every movement. Gristle realized it was weird, actually, to feel the weight on his shoulder and not hear the sound of bells he’d come to associate with that weight. But the harness was from when Branch was still a pet in everyone’s eyes—it wouldn’t do to make Branch wear it now.

And really, Branch was like a Bergen, in a lot of ways. He never sang or danced, he was disagreeable—even the gray of his short fur was similar to the average Bergen’s dull tones. Whenever he had something to work on, be it the den he’d dug or even old worksheets Gristle tried to downsize for him, he took to working on it just like a Bergen: with a grumble and the focused spirit that allowed Bergens to create sturdy walls and buildings. And he had interesting insights, too—Bergens disliked great heights, so even the castle couldn’t get very tall, but it was Branch who gave Gristle the idea to suggest subterranean expansion when the King presented the age-old issue of expansion logistics. Which was just funny, because Trolls lived in trees—yet Branch never once touched the dusty pod hanging in his cage.

Branch settled down on Gristle Junior’s shoulder, tucked just below Gristle’s ear. Gristle found a sudden bounce in his step, a mix of anticipation and excitement in his veins. Yeah, this whole adoption thing was a great idea! Maybe even the best Gristle had ever had!

Finding the King was easy—it was just before lunch, so King Gristle Senior would be just finishing up with the final petitioners in the biweekly levee. Normally, Gristle Junior would be sitting in his own princely throne beside his father, to listen and watch and get a general idea of how a levee worked—but he had… kinda skipped it, what with how eager he was to try out the adoption idea. Not that that was a major issue—Gristle Junior wasn’t meant to fully step into his duties as Prince until he was ten.

Still…

“Ah, there you are.” King Gristle Senior groused, shifting slightly in his throne. “Care to explain why you missed today’s levee?”

Gristle Junior stopped short, nodding his head in a bow. “My apologies, Father.” He kept his tone careful, regal, like he’d been taught. “I found something that needed attending to.” He explained, head still down.

Gristle Senior snorted. “Well, out with it, then.” He waved his hand encouragingly as his son looked up. “What grand idea did you come up with this time?”

Gristle Junior’s mouth pulled back in an odd way, and he fought the strange expression off of his face. With a simple flourish, he drew out the form, holding it out towards his father. “This.”

Gristle Senior took the form, glancing it over. His expression remained neutr—his eyes widened, as the contents of the form properly registered. The King’s expression scrunched, turning thunderous, before going down to mere annoyance. He turned that annoyance upon his son, and all but sputtered out, “What in the name of Berg is the meaning of this?!”

“It’s an adoption form.” Gristle Junior explained, pressing his hands together. He felt Branch shift slightly on his shoulder, and he held out a palm. Branch took the offer, sliding down Gristle’s arm to stand upon his hand, small and gray and steady.

“I can… see that.” Gristle Senior hissed through ground teeth. “But…” His expression became just as lost as the night that Gristle Junior had first met Branch. With a deep sigh, Gristle Senior looked down at his son and the Troll.

“Letting you keep a Troll as a pet is one thing,” The King began, “But adoption? Of a Troll? Are you insane?”

Gristle Junior felt oddly gobsmacked. “It makes sense.” He tried, unable to keep childish uncertainty from his voice. “Branch is the most unTroll Troll ever, he’s just like a Bergen and I think it’d be best if he was called as such, because then nobody would even think to eat him!”

Gristle Senior sighed, heavy and tired. “That’s not a good enough reason.” He started. “Son, do you have any idea what would happen if that… thing were to become your brother?”

“It’d be a serious crime to eat him.” Gristle Junior responded easily.

Gristle Senior brought up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, grumbling too low for Gristle Junior to make out the words. “...of all the—” With a rumbling groan, Gristle Senior regarded his son with a firm—but not wholly uncaring—expression. “You’re a Prince, my son. You can’t just go adopting every creature you see fit.”

“It’s just Branch.” Gristle Junior pushed back, “He’s already close enough to a Bergen, what’s adding the legal distinction going to do?” He shook his head. “This will all work out, Dad, I know it. I just need you to trust me.”

“Son, be realistic.” The King groused. “If that thing becomes your brother, then that makes it a Prince. There’s no way a Troll could be a Bergen Prince! Trolls are all about loud parties and sugar and silly games—they’re simply unsuited to laws and regulations and the hard work required to run a kingdom!”

Gristle Junior’s mouth opened—to say what, he wasn’t sure, but air was being forced up from his lungs and defiance was roaring in his heart, ready to burst out what would surely be a useful and clever retort—

“I can do it.”

As one, Gristle Junior and Senior turned to look at Branch. Branch took the combined attention with hunched shoulders, his tail clasped in his paws. “You want me to learn how to help run a kingdom? Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll learn.” He dropped his tail and crossed his arms, expression firm.

“I don’t want you doing anything of the sort.” Gristle Senior growled, but Gristle Junior was already rallying.

“He can! Branch is smart, Dad, he’s where I got the idea for underground expansions from! He remembers all the stuff I read, and he listens, and he’d make a good Prince!” All of his reasons were true and proven—which meant a lot, for seven year old Gristle Junior.

“Preposterous!” Gristle Senior began—

“If you think it’s so preposterous,” Branch’s voice cut through the room like alligator-dog teeth through mice. “Then why not bet on it?”

Those three words echoed in the sudden silence of the room, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling and tangling up in the eaves. If there was one thing Gristle Junior knew his father could not resist, it was a wager.

Indeed, Gristle Senior’s face had turned contemplative, his hands steepled before him. “A bet, you say?” Something like satisfaction slithered its way onto his face. “Hmm, I think I see what you mean. A trial period, of sorts, is that it? To find out if you could even come close to being a Prince?”

Branch nodded.

“Yeah!” Gristle Junior agreed. “If Branch can prove himself then you have to let the adoption go through!”

Gristle Senior snorted. “Sure, fine.” He waved his hand dismissively, before turning his attention to Branch. “But when that little creature fails to keep up the pace, I’m burning that form and you’re going to put any wild ideas of adopting Trolls out of your head for good.” He glared down at the pair, lips curled in a derisive snarl.

“You have three weeks.” Gristle Senior declared. “Better get started.”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was seven years old when he became a brother.

The wager had been… not as hard as Gristle expected. Branch had thrown himself into the challenge with a fervor that was only seen with master artisans undergoing hefty commissions. It had taken a lot of work, in those three weeks, but at the end of it all—

The cage had to be redone, renovated into a proper bedroom. The castle staff found itself expanded by two—Bernice and Groth, who had been hired to aid in the fiddly and sometimes frustrating art of turning tiny, Troll-sized writings into something that could be read by the average Bergen. Branch needed new clothes, and a proper bed, and a shelf for all of the Troll-sized copies he’d made and was making of the various books on Law and history and regulations, and had to attend meals and levees and lessons with Gristle, and—

It was so much. Gristle had known, when he had drafted that first attempt at an adoption form in the castle library, that things would change—but he had never quite imagined the sheer scope of it all. Suddenly, his brother was accompanying him everywhere, riding on Gristle’s shoulder or flinging himself through the halls with his hair. Gristle had heard some of the staff discussing pathways for Branch, where he’d be safe from being stepped on—

There was so much.

But…

Gristle had never had a brother. He had had a friend, in Branch, but it had taken so long for them to really get there. And now, despite how it had felt like the world was ending on that fateful failed Trollstice, all those years ago—

Gristle couldn’t imagine that day going any other way. He didn’t want to imagine a world in which he never met Branch, who was surely a Bergen in Troll skin. Branch was his friend—no, his brother.

“Hey, Branch?” Gristle rolled over and looked at the shelf that Branch’s things currently resided on, at the cage hurriedly covered with a sheet in an approximation of a proper room with real privacy. Late at night, in his unlit room, it barely looked like a cage at all. “Do you ever think about the day we met?”

Branch’s voice filtered down from the shelf. “Not really.” He admitted. “Why should I?” There was something oddly bitter in his voice. “It’s the day I was left behind. Again.”

Gristle Junior wasn’t sure how to unpack that. Or if he ever should. “I won’t leave you behind.” He promised, “‘Cause brothers stick together.” It felt like such a simple truth, to the seven year old Bergen.

There was silence from the shelf. It stretched on, almost uncomfortably so, feeding into the static of the darkness filling the room.

Gristle huffed. “You really are just like a Bergen.” He commented, “Always miserable.” He chuffed, something light in his chest that he didn’t fully register. “And that’s why you know we’ll always stick together.” He said, staring up at the darkness clinging to the ceiling.

“Unhappy together, then.” There was something soft in Branch’s voice—he must have been tired after such a long day.

Gristle sighed. Unhappy together. It sounded like a promise, like a finality.

It sounded like he was finally getting the hang of this whole “taking care of people” thing.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was ten years old when he was properly crowned Prince.

The day had been rife with tradition, from a breakfast banquet stocked with imported delicacies to the event itself out in the plaza. The old Troll Tree, withered from its abandonment, stood tall in the center of the space, dominating the whole scene no matter how Gristle Junior tried to look at it.

He fiddled with the clasp on his cape—his Princely cape, paired with his new crown to signify the change in status. The festivities weren’t exactly celebratory—the whole ceremony amounted to more of a town meeting, but with the best catering the royal kitchens could provide. Bergens of all kinds wandered about the plaza, taking advantage of the free food while Gristle Junior—Prince Gristle Junior watched on from his father’s side.

Branch—no, it was Prince Branch, now—stood to Gristle’s side, on a small platform made entirely for the occasion. His own blue cape and silver crown had to be custom-made, instead of passed down, but neither of the brothers were bothered by that fact.

“I still don’t understand how Glixry managed such tiny details.” Gristle commented, focusing in on the silver metal of Branch’s crown. “It even has tiny metal leaves!”

Branch reached up, touching the edges delicately. “It feels so weird.” He decided. “But… not bad.”

“Of course not! You’re a Prince now!” Gristle assured him. “Stand tall and proud, like a proper Bergen.” Gristle commanded, repeating the words he had heard so many times.

“Yeah…” Branch let his paws fall back to his sides, almost hidden under the edges of his cape—but Gristle didn’t miss the way they clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

Branch was older than Gristle, true. But the fact remained that he had started learning later, so it had been decided to crown them both when Gristle came of age, and not a moment sooner. So here they were, brothers crowned together, all of Bergentown around them.

There would be so many more responsibilities, now—Princes helped the reigning monarch run the kingdom, after all. They’d still have to learn as they went, but—

Gristle breathed in deeply. The Bergens—his people—they were all miserable. But they were hardworking and honest, and Gristle would do his best to be the Prince they deserved.

Gristle turned to look back at his brother, who was fiddling with his own cape clasp. Glixry had repurposed one of the bells from Branch’s old harness for the clasp, and even now it still faintly rung as Branch slowly paced around his little platform.

There was an odd expression on Branch’s face, satisfaction and an oddly melancholy contemplation firming his brow. Gristle huffed, snapping his little-big brother from whatever thoughts he was lost in. Gristle offered his hand, and Branch rolled his eyes before hopping onto Gristle’s palm.

As Gristle lifted his brother high above his head, something proud surged in his chest, light and electric in his veins. His face twitched in that odd way it sometimes did, but Gristle ignored the feeling in favor of looking out over his people once more.

He was going to be the best Prince Bergentown had ever seen! He and his brother both!

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was eleven years old when Branch finally pupated.

His book on Troll growth said that Trolls pupated when they were twelve or thirteen. It also went on about how Trolls were utterly inedible in this state, wrapped in their cocoons as their bodies changed and matured.

That Branch’s pupation had come late according to the books was worrying. That it had come at all was a stark reminder of the fact that, for all of his Bergen-like traits, Branch was in some small way still a Troll.

Gristle peered at the dark gray hair cocoon for the umpteenth time. None of his books said anything about whether Trolls could still hear in there, or even what really happened to them outside of “maturation”—all the book really cared to go over was how to identify a pupation cocoon, and that they couldn’t be eaten.

“Even if you can’t hear me,” Gristle began, settling back down with an interesting book he’d found—some kind of romance novel where none of the characters actually got together in the end. He’d heard the librarian going on about how it was a contemplative piece about the nature of connections, so he’d picked it up to go through. “But if you can’t then I’ll just read this book to you all over again when you’re out.”

The cocoon gave no discernible response. Gristle decided that that was fine, and began to read. He made it through a chapter and a half before being summoned for dinner with his father, and he gave the cocoon one final glance as he left the room.

“I see your… brother isn’t joining us again tonight.” Gristle Senior commented, as the first course was brought out.

“I told you, Dad, he’s pupating.” Gristle Junior huffed, licking sticky roe off of his fingers.

“Yes,” Gristle Senior nodded. “Trolls do do that, I’ve heard.” He went silent as the second course arrived, digging in with royal fervor. A few moments later, and he spoke again. “Hopefully this whole thing doesn’t set him too far back.” He commented airily, dabbing at his face with a napkin.

Gristle Junior scowled over his plate as a servant exchanged it for the bowl of soup acting as the third course. “Branch always keeps up.” He asserted. “And we won that bet fair and square, so you can’t go back on your end no matter what.” He sipped from his spoon with a pointedly royal slurp.

“And I have no intentions of backing out.” Gristle Senior slurped just a little harder. “I’m just curious.” And with that, the conversation was over.

Gristle stared down at his soup. Branch would keep up. He would. He always did.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle was eleven years old, and he was getting concerned.

Nineteen days. The books said that Trolls only pupated for a week, tops. But it had been nineteen days since Branch had disappeared into the spun cocoon, eyes glassy and unfocused. Nineteen days of a silent cocoon.

Gristle had long since finished that first romance novel, and the book on fence safety regulations, and was almost halfway into a book on the history of anchovy farming. And the cocoon still remained!

The worry was starting to affect his Princely duties, too. Maybe it was because he was used to working alongside Branch, and the absence was getting to him, but there was no denying it: Gristle was concerned. But what if trying to crack the cocoon open early ruined everything? What if he was supposed to crack it open, and he’d missed the deadline? What if being gray really was bad, and Branch…

Gristle didn’t want to think about it. He really, really didn’t.

The sun had long gone down when Gristle finally put his books away and retired to his bed. He glanced at the cocoon one last time before extinguishing the lights, worry like a rock in his gut.

The night passed. The sun rose again, creeping into Gristle’s bedroom through the window until it smacked against his eyes. With a groan, the eleven year old sat up, shading his eyes with a hand. He glared at the offending celestial body. “Every day.” He muttered. “Every day, you do this.” He was about to continue—

“Are you yelling at the sun again? Really?”

Gristle yelped, jolting hard enough to fall off of his bed entirely. He flailed wildly, scrambling to clamber back to his feet, frenetic energy in every inch of his suddenly-impossibly-awkward limbs.

“Branch!” Gristle leaned up against the shelf, examining the shredded remains of the cocoon through the door of his brother’s room. His little-big brother stood beside it, already having pulled on some pants. “You’re okay! You were in there for really long!”

Branch shrugged, walking over to his wardrobe. “Well, I’m here, so you can quit your whining.” There was a fondness in his voice that had Gristle rolling his eyes.

“Your tail’s still gone.” Gristle noticed. A lump settled in his gut, hard and heavy. “Branch…”

Branch turned around, twisting to look and confirm Gristle’s words. “Eh.” He shrugged, and turned his attention back to his wardrobe. “‘S not like it matters.” He decided, picking out a shirt to wear under his cape. “Bergens aren’t supposed to have tails anyway.”

Gristle winced. It was true, Bergens were tailless—but if they had tails, they certainly wouldn’t—

Gristle shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that. “Sooo,” He started, as Branch was securing the belled clasp of his cape. “How do you feel?”

Branch carefully placed his crown back upon his head, then walked in a small circle. “I don’t know, stronger?” He tried, holding his paws out in front of himself and examining them. “I think my balance is better, actually.” He noted. As if to illustrate the point, he did a twirl, his cape flaring slightly with the motion. “My face feels kinda… hm.” Branch pressed at his jaw with his paws, before shrugging it off. “Whatever. Are you gonna get ready, or am I doing all your work for you today?”

“Oh!” Gristle whipped back around, running for his own wardrobe. “Right!” As he shrugged on his own cape, clicking the clasp into place, he turned back to glance at the shelf holding his brother’s room.

Gristle sighed, all of his worries abated. Why would he ever worry? His family was just fine, and would be for a long, long time.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was thirteen years old when he finally had to admit it.

He’d always hoped he’d get his father’s height, that he’d be able to stand as tall as the average Bergen in his adult years. But it had become clear that he would always be half average height, always doomed to needing steps to get onto the taller chairs.

It wasn’t the end of the world; Bergens could come in a range of shapes and sizes. That Gristle was so short wasn’t that big of an issue.

But Berg, did it feel like it! Gristle had spent his whole life looking up to his father—metaphorically and literally! And he was probably going to be stuck looking up forever!

“What are you moping about now?” And there was Gristle’s little-big brother, padding along one of the many paths set into the castle walls. The masons and carpenters had done good work with those paths—when Branch wasn’t running along them, they looked like simple wall decoration. It was real classy.

“I’m never gonna be tall.” Gristle grumbled, allowing himself a moment to lean against the wall in despair. Then he remembered who he was talking to, and hurriedly pulled away, flailing his hands as he tried to recover. “I mean—not that being short is a bad thing—”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Branch groused, holding out a paw. “Because from where I’m standing, you are not short.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him.

“I am, though.” Gristle lamented. “Most Bergens are twice my size. I mean, just look at Dad!”

Branch rolled his eyes. “At least you’re not Troll-sized.” He hopped down from the path along the wall to land atop Gristle’s head, just next to the crown. “Gotta count your blessings there.”

“I dunno,” Gristle started, swiping at his brother as the tiny Bergen pattered about on his head and ruffled his hair, “Maybe being Troll-sized would be nice. I could ride Barnabus around the halls with you.” He didn’t fully mean it—being the size of a Troll in a castle made for Bergens constantly forced Branch to find workarounds to even the simplest of things. But if anyone could manage it, it’d be Branch.

And Gristle had to admit: the idea of being able to ride on an alligator-dog, even one as old as Barnabus, was really cool. But Gristle was too big for that, and too big for his old trikes—all while being too small in so many other ways. It was like he was caught between, stuck at a size that would annoy him forever.

Branch dodged away from Gristle’s hand easily, chuffing when Gristle accidentally sent his own crown flying down the hall. Gristle growled, running after it, shaking his head in an attempt to throw Branch off. But his brother held on easily, always infuriatingly good at roughhousing despite his size.

It just wasn’t fair.

But, as Gristle replaced his crown on his head, and as Branch slid down to settle on Gristle’s shoulder, Gristle brushed away the annoyance.

It wasn’t the end of the world. Not by a long shot.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when the unthinkable happened.

His father, King Gristle Senior, who had always been an unshakeable force, strong and proud in a kingdom full of strong and proud Bergens—

Gristle Junior couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. It just—it wasn’t supposed to happen like this!

But there was nothing that could be done. His father had fallen ill three months ago, and, despite every effort from every doctor in Bergentown, despite all of the King’s strength—

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his father passed from illness, gone overnight like a snuffed candle flame. Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when the title of King passed onto him, far too soon—he should have remained a Prince until he was a proper adult, until he was married with children who would become the Princes and Princesses that would help him run the kingdom—

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his world shattered for the second time. The funeral was held out in the plaza, barely a week after his father’s passing. The same plaza as Gristle’s first and final Trollstice, as his and Branch’s official crowning as Princes. It felt as though every major life-changing event in Gristle’s life happened here, the caged tree looming over it all like a shadow.

It still… it just couldn’t be possible. His father couldn’t just be… gone.

Gristle returned to the castle in a daze. Some distant part of him knew that he would have no choice but to take up his father’s crown, and soon, but—

The rest of him was sinking slowly, the grief thick in his throat and veins and head. The fog was all-consuming, pulling Gristle into depths of unhappiness he’d never thought possible.

Gristle had believed his first and last Trollstice, the day where he lost any chance to ever be happy, would be the worst day of his life. Oh, how wrong he was.

Gristle didn’t know how long he laid like that, staring up at the ceiling of his room without seeing anything at all. It was as though the world around him had well and truly shattered, and now the pieces had all fallen away out of his reach. Gristle floated on the nothing for what felt like an eternity and now time at all, the mire in his head growing thicker with every passing second.

“Hey.”

Gristle rolled over on his bed, pressing his face into the comforter to block out the rest of the world.

“Hey.”

What was the point? Gristle was never supposed to be King at fifteen. He’d probably mess it up, bungle the whole thing, and then all of Bergentown would be just as dead as his father.

“Hey!”

Gristle groaned, shoving his face into the comforter. He didn’t have the time or patience for this, his whole world was falling apart, why couldn’t he have a good cry about it in peace—

Something small landed inches away from Gristle’s head. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was—only his little-big brother could land so lightly.

“Hey, idiot.” Branch pushed at Gristle’s chin, lifting the Bergen’s head off the bed by a few inches. “Chin up.” He demanded, baring his teeth.

Gristle forced his head back down onto the comforter. “Leave me alone.” He growled.

“Mm, nope.” Branch declared, moving around to pull at Gristle’s ear. “You’ve been in here long enough,” he sniffed, “And you need a shower. C’mon.” He pulled, and Gristle had to put effort into staying in place.

“No.” Gristle grumbled. “Just let me rot.” Every inch of his body ached with the grief clinging to his bones, and the very thought of getting up and doing anything made him want to vomit. The whole world made him want to vomit.

“Can’t let you,” Branch said, his voice edging into genuine worry. “C’mon, at least eat something?” He tugged at Gristle’s ear again, darting away as Gristle irritably swiped at him.

“I said,” Gristle pushed himself up ever so slightly, just so he could look Branch in the eye, “leave me alone!”

Branch shook his head, paws clenching and unclenching. “You’ve been alone.” He said. “I can’t leave you. Brothers stick together.” There was something heavy in his words, some deeper meaning than a childhood promise.

“And how are you supposed to help?” Gristle asked, sitting up fully. “What could you possibly do to make this better?”

“Not let you smell like a rotting carcass, for one.” Branch snarked. His expression immediately softened. “You need to take better care of yourself.” He urged. “Letting yourself rot only makes it hurt worse. Please.”

“And what would you know?” Gristle accused. “You and Dad barely even liked each other!”

“You think I don’t know what grief feels like?” Branch spread his arms wide, tears beginning to bubble up in his eyes. “My Grandmother was eaten on Trollstice before you were even born! DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO GRIEVE!”

Gristle flinched back. All of his vitriol drained as Branch panted. “You…” Branch never talked about that, about those four years he’d spent in the Troll Tree. Gristle’s throat tightened as a wave of emotion hit him anew, his eyes beginning to sting.

“It hurts.” He sobbed, for lack of anything better to say.

Branch’s anger melted away. “I know.” He said, sitting down. “It hurts, and you want so badly to just curl into a ball and wish the world away—”

“But you have to pick yourself back up.” Gristle finished. “Because people are counting on you.”

“Because nobody else will.” Branch added softly.

Gristle sobbed, breathy and uneven. “I miss him so much, Branch.”

Branch nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not ready to be King!” Gristle’s face was wet, now, hot and sticky with snot and tears.

Branch nodded again. “I know.”

Gristle sobbed again, his whole body shaking with the motion. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

“It’s not okay,” Branch offered into the silence, scooting forwards, “And that’s okay.”

“It hurts.” Gristle whispered.

Branch nodded. No more words came, and Gristle continued to cry. All of his misery poured out, raw and real and painful, and Branch remained right in front of him the entire time. When Gristle finally ran out of tears to cry, he flopped back down onto the bed, and two paws pressed against his cheek.

The silence stretched.

Slowly, Gristle breathed. In, and out. His chest was still strung taut and raw, his face was cold and sticky, and his throat stung from the effort of crying so much. He had never felt so low. He knew the grief was far from over.

As Gristle breathed, Branch clambered up onto his chest. He kneeled down, and held out a paw.

“Unhappy together.” Branch offered. “Shit sucks, but it sucks less when we work together.”

Gristle inhaled, his breath choppy and uneven. “Unhappy together.” He agreed, offering his finger for Branch to shake. He sobbed again, and Branch wrapped his arms around as much of Gristle’s hand as he could manage.

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his father died. And it sucked, and hurt, and Gristle wasn’t sure he’d ever really stop grieving.

But, at the very least, he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t much, but that simple fact helped.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was twenty years old when Chef returned.

The day started as any other, really. Wake up, get cleaned and dressed, find his brother already awake and poring over details from the latest construction updates in the new quarter. Have breakfast, Branch darting about to steal off of his plate as he stole from Branch’s, like proper brothers would do. Go through the castle halls greeting everyone, Branch walking along the various small walkways lining the walls and arching up across hallways like tiny bridges. Prepare for the biweekly levee in the throne room.

It was as the final petitioner was leaving that it happened. A Bergen that Gristle only vaguely recognized emerged from behind a potted plant, swishing her cloak ominously as she all but marched towards the throne.

And then Gristle recognized her. The chef’s hat, the lavender tint, the wicked gleam in her eyes. He glanced to the throne beside his, and anxiety germinated in his chest at the sight of Branch still as a statue, eyes wide and locked onto Chef.

“Were you behind that plant the whole time?” Gristle asked, for lack of anything else to say. He realized immediately how stupid that sounded—but Branch made no comment on it, which was so unlike him that Gristle’s uncertainty ratcheted up another notch.

Chef grinned as she reached for the zipper on her fannypack. Slowly, she opened it, and a sweet harmony emerged from within.

Gristle gasped, the rest of the world forgotten. If Branch had any reaction, Gristle didn’t notice it, too entranced with the sight before him.

For in Chef’s fannypack was a handful of Trolls, bright and colorful and singing.

This… this could change everything.

No—this would change everything. For all of Bergentown! Finally, Gristle Junior could live up to his title, could be the King that brought happiness back to his people!

If he had bothered to look back at the thrones, he would have seen Chef glaring daggers into his back.

More importantly, he would have seen the look of utter uncertainty on Branch’s face.

#dreamworks trolls #gristle junior #branch trolls #king gristle jr #zaz writes #between au #death #themes of dehumanization (depersonization?) #WHY. WHY IS THIS SO L O N G #9K WORDS????? #N I N E T H O U S A N D W O R D S ?????????? #anyway. here's the between au for anyone who was wondering #i wish this was smaller and easier to digest #but i jsut. kept adding scenes #EVEN AS I REMOVED THE TAIL SCENE AND SKIMPED OVER THE ADOPTION AND DIDN'T WRITE ANY SCENES BETWEEN GRISTLE SR'S DEATH AND CHEF SHOWING UP #anyway. branch is four years older than gristle (jr) in my mind #and also trolls are like bugs to me. hence the pupation #i have fish in a birdcage playing on loop rn and i think my brain is melting #it's a good song for this au tho ngl

[kittyball23]

Hi kittyball, did you read the trolls band together junior novelization? Does it include deleted scenes from the movie? I heard there was a scene cut with velvet and veneer buying yachts 😆 and another scene with velvet spraying veneer with troll without warning him.

Hi, I sure did! I do remember that there were scenes and/or little details that differentiated from what was seen in the actual movie, and I’d be happy to share them:

John Dory in the beginning was being a little more critical of Clay’s dance moves

“C’mon, Clay,” John Dory said. “They’re Funderdrawers! Underwear, but seventy-six percent more fun! Now let’s see those dance moves!”

“Fine,” Clay said with a sigh. He did a quick series of dance steps, naming them while executing them perfectly. “Rusty robot into a wiggle worm, and end on caliente puppet.”

“Not bad,” John Dory said, stroking his chin. “But your robot could be rustier. And your worm wigglier.”

Clay looked annoyed. “Don’t you want my puppet caliente-er?”

“I wasn’t going to say it,” John Dory said, “but yeah. Definitely.”

‘Bro-Time’ happened in both the beginning and the end, each brother doing a hands-in-the-middle thing

Beginning:

“If we can’t hit the Perfect Family Harmony, we aren’t perfect,” John Dory insisted. “And if we aren’t perfect, we’re NOTHING! Being nothing is definitely not an option. So just follow my lead.” He stuck his hand out, palm down. “Let’s do this!”

Each of his brothers piled their hands on top of his. Together, John Dory, Spruce, Clay, Floyd, and Baby Branch shouted, “IT’S BRO TIME!”

End:

Smiling wistfully, Floyd said, “I can’t believe we almost missed out on all this.” It had been a long time.

“We shouldn’t have let our differences break up our family,” Clay put in, joining them.

John Dory walked up. “That’s right. Because we don’t have to be perfect to be in harmony. We just have to be together.”

Branch started to point out that he had told them exactly that, but he changed his mind. “You’re right,” he said. “Good point, bro.”

Standing in a circle, the brothers each put a hand in. “On three,” Branch said. “One… two… three!”

“IT’S BRO TIME!” they all said in unison, lifting their hands.

Baby Branch was supposed to make his entrance suspended on a wire

“And making his first live appearance, the Baby!” Glitter burst over the stage, revealing Branch suspended on a wire.

“Awwww!” the whole audience said, charmed by the adorable sight.

BroZone rolled right into their first song. Cool, calm, and collected, John Dory danced up a storm. Spruce blew another kiss, and the fans went wild. Clay added a little goofy touches to the dance steps, getting lots of laughs. Floyd shed a single tear as he sang. And Branch flipped down off his wire, sticking the landing perfectly, nailing every move and every note as the five brothers came together.

As the Family Harmony started to happen, glass broke and a lightbulb shattered

The five brothers hit a chord and held it. Offstage, a water glass broke. KSHHH! Overhead, a light bulb shattered. SHHINK! The brothers looked at each other. It was happening! They were achieving the PERFECT FAMILY HARMONY!

Smead, Gristle’s Aunt, was supposed to be the officiate instead of Miss Maxine for Bridget and Gristle’s wedding

Gristle’s Aunt Smead, a tall Bergen with goggles and hair that stood straight up, was in charge of leading the happy couple through their wedding vows. She leaned over and joked, “Hey, Bridget, you still have time to run for it!”

Poppy and JD went through with the whole hug, fist-bump, and wave thing she suggested when meeting him

Poppy rushed over and introduced herself to John Dory. “Oh my gosh, I was being so rude! I’ve never met anyone from Branch’s family before. I’m Poppy. Branch’s girlfriend. Should we hug? Fist-bump? Smile and wave for now and see where the night takes us?”

“All of the above!” John Dory said, hugging her, bumping her fist with his and waving and smiling.

Crimp was supposed to be shown cleaning up the chair before Velvet and Veneer made their entrance on the Mount Rageous show ‘The Bop on Top’

In a TV studio, the pop duo’s put-upon assistant Crimp swept off a chair, making sure it was immaculate before one of her bosses sat on it. Crimp resembled the head of a straw broom, with green eyes, white glasses, and a purple hair bow scrunching a bun of papery hair on top of her head. She was much shorter than Velvet and Veneer, but was still at least three times the size of the average Troll.

Ignoring their assistant, Velvet launched herself onto the chair, squashing Crimp. FWUNK! “So,” Velvet said to Kid Ritz, “what do you wanna know? I’m an open book.”

You are correct, Velvet did spray Floyd’s essence at Veneer without him expecting it lol

Grabbing the perfume bottle, she squeezed the bulb, giving herself a big spray of Troll talent. SHHFFT! Floyd groaned as the energy was sucked out of him. Velvet tested the results, opening her mouth to sing. She let loose an impressive cascade of notes. Satisfied, she smiled and aimed the bottle’s nozzle at her brother’s mouth. SSSHHFFT! “Your turn, Veneer.”

Veneer coughed. “Ack! You’re supposed to say it before you spray it, remember?”

There’s a quick moment where Floyd sympathizes with Crimp

Rolling her eyes, Velvet said, “Ugh. I’m exhausted by this drama. Do you wanna go buy a yacht?”

“Oh, good idea!” Veneer said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s buy matching yachts!” They left the dressing room without another word.

"Can I come out of the corner yet?” Crimp asked.

Floyd looked at her with pity in his big violet eyes. “Girl, you need a new job. I should be the saddest one in this room.”

A small moment where Bruce and JD hug

Seeing an opportunity, Poppy decided to give Bruce a little encouragement. “Prove it. Prove it,” she started chanting. Bruce’s kids all joined in, balling their fists and pumping their arms in time with the chant. “PROVE IT! PROVE IT!”

Bruce took up the challenge. “Oh, I’ll prove it,” he said confidently. “I’ll prove it right now.” He took a deep breath and let it out. Then he hopped up onto the stage and stood next to John Dory.

“Yes!” John Dory cheered. “Bring it in, brother!” They hugged.

More of Velvet being a jerk

A stage manager popped her head through the dressing room door. “Knock, knock, knock – it’s ‘we’re ready for you’ o’clock!”

Velvet faked a super-sweet manner. “Look at you, making your job fun. Good for you! Just give us five minutes. We’re still working on our routine. Okay, doll?” She closed the door and muttered, “Loser.” Then she picked up Floyd’s bottle, planning to take in another spray of his Troll talent before the day’s singing began.

Veneer making a reference to a meme

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Floyd cried, holding his hands up against the inside of the diamond bottle. “Come on, it’s just dress rehearsal. You don’t need me for a dress rehearsal!”

Ignoring his protests, Velvet grabbed the golden spray bulb between her fingers and pointed the nozzle at her mouth, ready to spritz her vocal cords. Her brother spoke up. “Wait. Maybe he’s got a point. Do we even need a dress rehearsal?”

“Obviously,” Velvet said, making a face. “That’s why we’re getting dressed.”

“I’m just saying he doesn’t look so great,” Veneer pointed out. “He has, like, sad Troll face.”

Velvet shrugged it off. “He’s fine.”

Velvet’s suggestions for how to make Floyd better

But Velvet wasn’t overly concerned about Floyd’s see-through hand and overall paleness. “Oh, he just needs some blush,” she suggested. “Or is there a mini tanning bed we can jam into the bottle with him?”

More back and forth with Velvet and Veneer

Veneer paced the dressing room floor, clutching his head. “What are we going to do? We obviously can’t even rely on the Troll to get us through this dress rehearsal, let alone the Rage Dome show!”

Looking annoyed, Velvet said, “How come I always have to come up with something?”

“Because you’re the mean one!” Veneer told her.

“I’m not mean – I’m ambitious!”

Floyd having been conscious while Velvet was shaking the bottle

Picking up Floyd’s diamond prison, she said, “Maybe we should just try shaking the bottle.” She shook it. Floyd ricocheted around inside, banging against the hard surface.

“Ow! Ouch! Ooh, my knee! My other knee!” he cried.

Lonely People having been sung later on in the movie, after Floyd makes a ‘philosophical’ statement

Floyd looked at his body, becoming more see-through by the minute. “Well,” he said philosophically. “I lived, I loved, I lost.”

To the accompaniment of gentle ukulele music, he sang quietly to himself. He looked and saw that it was Crimp who was playing the ukulele.

Bruce’s response to learning about Velvet and Veneer’s song

On an empty road that night, Bruce steered Rhonda, listening to Velvet and Veneer sing one of their pop hits on the radio. “My kids love these guys!” he said. “We’re a total Veneer household.”

“They’re the ones who are holding Floyd prisoner,” John Dory called from the back of the van.

Bruce looked shocked. “Wow, everyone’s getting canceled these days.”

A little more Clay and Viva friendship displayed

Viva put an arm around Clay’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’m the face of the operation, and Mr. Clay takes care of the boring stuff!”

“Guilty!” Clay admitted. He and Viva tapped elbows and laughed. 

Branch and Poppy having a short exchange after leaving Putt Putt Village

Heartbroken, Poppy watched as the gate closed. She leaned her scrapbook against it for Viva. Branch ran up behind her. “You were right, Branch,” Poppy said. “Family is… complicated.”

Velvet and Veneer having labeled bottles for the rest of the brothers

In Velvet and Veneer’s Rage Dome dressing room, Floyd’s diamond bottle sat on a shelf next to four empty bottles labeled Heartthrob, Fun Boy, Old One, and Baby. Floyd’s bottle was now labeled Almost Dead One.

Branch’s line about the diaper slightly differing

They tried singing one of their old songs, but John Dory soon cut them off. “Stop! Stop! Time-out. Let’s take it from the top. Spruce, I want some smolder in those eyes. Clay, you’re being too stiff. We need some sillier robot moves. Branch, maybe a smaller diaper.”

“Or some clothes not from the toddler section,” Branch grumbled.

Clay’s line about his CPA position replaced with this:

Bruce got right in his brother’s face. “This isn’t going to work if you keep being the same old John Dory.”

“Yeah,” Clay agreed. “We’ve all changed. Bruce settled down. Branch is slightly taller with zero glasses. And I’m not the guy who shoots milk out his nose and smiles through the burn!”

“Yup,” Poppy said to herself, remembering past milk blasts through her nose. “Been there.”

Crimp also confronting Velvet and Veneer when Poppy and Branch do on the red carpet

“You’re stealing BroZone’s talent because you have none of your own, you big PHONIES!” Poppy said, pointing her own accusing finger at them.

Crimp popped up out of the van. “They’re MEAN!” she shouted. “And I was their assistant, so I KNOW!”

The fans, listening to this exchange, started whispering to each other. Could what the little Trolls and the papery mop with glasses were saying possibly be true?

An extra line JD said when the talent was being sucked out of the four brothers

Velvet lowered herself back down through the sunroof and punched a button on the car’s dashboard. The roof folded back, clearing the way for a metal arm to rise out of the car, holding an entire round stage. Velvet and Veneer both hit the buttons on their shoulder pads and inhaled big whiffs of Troll talent. The four brothers winced in pain.

“Floyd, why didn’t you warn us about how uncomfortable that is?” John Dory asked.

Slightly different lines when Poppy, Branch, and Viva arrived at the yacht

When she saw Branch, Poppy, and Viva on the deck of the boat, Velvet wasn’t dismayed. On the contrary, she was delighted! “More Trolls!” she exclaimed happily. “This will last us a lifetime!”

Velvet trying to sing after she and Veneer came out of the river that they had fallen into, and Crimp calling the two out again

The yacht came to a stop, wedged diagonally across a narrow passage in the river. Velvet climbed out of the water, turned the camera on herself, and tried to sing.

She sounded awful.

The crowd gasped. “Hey, what happened to your voice?” a fan shouted.

Veneer decided it was time to come clean. “Okay, fine,” he said. “Listen up, Mount Rageous. We are FRAUDS! And we’ve been literally torturing little Trolls!”

The fans were horrified. One yelled, “My illusion of celebrity has been shattered!”

Crimp stepped in front of the pop duo. “It’s true,” she confirmed. And they’re mean. Not ambitious, but just plain MEAN!”

Veneer having put the handcuffs on Velvet instead of Crimp

“Oh, give it up, sis,” Veneer told her. He faced the cameras. “We just wanted to be famous. Honestly, my sister wanted to be famous, and truly, I was too afraid to stand up to her.”

Disgusted by her brother’s admission, Velvet said, “It’s like I don’t even know who you are.”

“Yeah, you do,” Veneer said firmly. “And you asked me to change anyway. Which isn’t okay, family or not.” He snapped a pair of handcuffs onto her slender wrists. She held them up, asking, “Veneer, what have you done?” Then she admired the shiny cuffs, saying, “Oooh, are these real silver?”

And the ending scene, in which Kismet is not mentioned, and Branch and Poppy have one last exchange

Over the loudspeaker, Crimp announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, you know ‘em, you love ‘em – give it up for the Trolls Kingdom’s very own… BROZONE!” She opened the curtains revealing the five brothers in sparkling new costumes. The crowd went wild!

In the front row, Poppy cheered along with them. Branch offered her his hand. “Poppy,” he said. “I have a small proposal. Will you – “

“Join the band?” she interrupted, bursting with excitement. “Of COURSE, I will! I thought you’d never ask!”

“You know me too well,” Branch said, grinning. “Now get up here and sing with us!”

“AAAAHH!” she squealed, leaping onto the stage. She extended a hand to her sister in the front row. “Viva! Viva, get up here! We’re in the band!”

“This is my dream life!” Viva cried, joining her and whipping out a pair of castanets.

The seven Trolls joyfully sang and danced together, and the audience absolutely loved it. The concert turned into an epic dance party. Fireworks exploded, lighting up the night sky.

Poppy turned to Branch. “I love you, Branch!”

“And I love you, Poppy!” Branch told her.

“Would it be weird if I fainted?” Poppy said. “Oh, I’m gonna faint right now.”

And she did. But Branch caught her. He would always be there to catch her when she fell, and she would do the same for him, no matter what.

Those were a majority of the main differences I could find in the junior novel. I think most of it stayed true to the movie, but some little details I would’ve liked to have made the final cut (the Cliva friendship stuff, the extra Broppy exchange and, while I understand the purpose of NSYNC’s cameo, I think the movie would’ve worked just fine without it)

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch trolls #poppy trolls #velvet and veneer #velvet trolls #veneer trolls #floyd trolls #crimp trolls #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #dreamworks #thanks for the ask! #kittyball answers #100+

[thematchmakeramethyst]

Trolls Band Together: The Junior Novelization Summarize and *Thoughts

This post may contain spoilers….

Warning, you are about to be spoiled.

This is your last chance, if you wish to turn back or take in the risk.

Here it is…Enjoy, Ame Gems.

*The book mentioned the day when Brozone separated happened before the Bergens captured the Pop Trolls. That’s hard to believe because it wouldn’t explain why John Dory was bossy to his brothers. His authoritarian nature is because of Brozone's parents' death at the hands of the Bergens. The death of their parents changed John Dory to try to act like an adult, and the pressure of looking after his brothers made him what he was. And his craving for perfection, maybe his thought of what parents wanted for their children. It also explains why the brothers would fight a lot; they try to hide their sorrow of losing their parents through rage. John Dory was the cause of their breaking up.

Brozone prepares for their concert while John Dory directs his brothers to follow his lead. Their Perfect Family Harmony was so powerful that it made them create mistakes, thus ending their concert in tragedy. JD, Spruce, and Clay begin to fight before they leave. Floyd decided to go for a solo career but said he’d come back. And, of course, it cuts to when Branch and Poppy get ready for Bridget and King Gristle’s wedding.

*Miss Maxine may be the justice of the peace despite her name being Aunt Smead.

John Dory arrived as soon as the wedding started. He’s happy to see Branch again before introducing himself as his brother.

*It was funny how Poppy referred to John Dory as the Old One. (considering him the eldest of Brozone)

John Dory mentioned he got a letter from Floyd, who was captured by Velvet and Veneer in Mount Rageous. He went there and found Floyd in a diamond prison. Seeing the Perfect Harmony will be able to break him free, JD searches to find the brothers. With Poppy and Branch coming along, JD summons Rhonda, his armadillo-like van. But before they left, Bridget and Gristle quickly married and started their honeymoon on a motorcycle. Meanwhile, at Mount Rageous, the evil Velvet and her follower brother, Veneer, are being interviewed on the Bop on Tp by Kid Ritz.

*Mention how they are overnight superstars. They must’ve kidnapped Floyd during the time they started their career. And how did they find him? Floyd may have visited Mount Rageous during his solo career to perform there. And that’s when they saw him. Velvet and Veneer are known as Rageons….Yeah, another way to say the Mommy LongLegs tribe ☹️

Their assistant, Crimp, is like the head of the straw boom but three times the size of the average Troll. She’s mistreated by Velvet the most, analyzing how self-centered she is for the spotlight and fame. She knows how to hide her true evil nature with her face. Veneer follows Velvet like a minion despite feeling guilty for what he’s doing to Floyd. He even looked sorry for him.

*FloydxVeneer?

It turns out that Velvet sent John Dory the letter to have all of Brozone. Crimp is highly unaware that the stealing talent Diamond perfume bottle is sucking the life out of Floyd. Back on Rhonda, Tiny Diamond somehow joined in the party.

*JD accepted Poppy as Branch’s girlfriend…Brotherly approved: the 1st one is checked

 John Dory got a postcard from Spruce with no signature or return address. And as if on cue, the sunset was on the horizon. JD takes the wheel, so they fall into the sea, and they reach Vacay Island. While going through the Rock Climbing Jungle, they meet the locals, giant water balloon puppets creatures, and Beach Ball Birds.

*I call them the Vacays.

Anyway, the adult Spruce, now known as Bruce, is surfing the wave before going to his cantina(Bruce & Sons & One Daughter) without knowing they are following him. Upon seeing them, he ignores John Dory, happily tosses Branch, and gives him a wet willy.

*His grudge against his older brother is deep. And Branch, even if you are an adult, your brothers babying you is their job.

We soon meet Brandi, Bruce’s wife, and their 13 children. Hearing how Floyd was captured, Bruce suggests calling the authorities, until hearing about him being in a diamond prison, the perfect family harmony it is to save Floyd.

*It’s clear that Bruce and Branch are brothers since they were both pressured by Poppy and Bruce’s children to sing. FYI, the children got some pink eye.

With Brandi in charge of the restaurant and the children, Bruce takes off with his two brothers, Poppy and Tiny Diamond. Back at Mount Rageous, Velvet and Veneer will do a dress rehearsal. Of course, Velvet wants a spritz of Floyd's talent, which Floyd and Veneer stopped. Her brother even notices that Floyd is looking transparent.

*Veneer is too concerned about Floyd…Hmmm?

Veneer suggests practicing for the Rage Dome show, but Velvet is a lazy bum who wants the easy way. Back with the heroes, Bruce mentioned how his kids love to listen to Veneer.

*Yeah, it's better for him to be loved than Velvet.

The radio mentioned Velvet and Veneer performing at the Rage Dome for their Lifer Award tomorrow night. Without any time to spare, Rhonda goes into Hustle Mood while following the smell of Funderdrawers. They arrive at Putt-Putt Village, the old Bergen Hole in Fun. The Putt Putt Trolls have a vast hatred for Bergens. Soon, Clay came, saying he co-run the place with Viva.

*He cutely touches Branch’s face…Maybe to squeeze his cheeks.

Viva soon realizes that Poppy is her long-lost younger sister, and they begin to hang out together. However, Viva wants Poppy to stay forever because of her issues with Bergens. So she tries to trap them in Putt-Putt Village, but they escape. At Velvet and Veneer’s Rage Dome dressing room, they are preparing themselves for the show. Crimp created the Diamond outfits so they could steal Brozone's talent. Now, knowing what will happen to Floyd, Velvet locks Crimp in the closet. Floyd tries to fake death. Thinking his death was confirmed, they tried to flush Floyd down a toilet. Veneer says that his favorite thing about Floyd is how he made him famous

*As if they were flushing down a dead pet fish, cruel.

But Floyd takes this chance to try and escape. Once Veneer catches him, they have a heart-to-heart talk. Veneer takes his words but is still controlled by Velvet. Back with heroes, the four brothers and Poppy try to practice, but it doesn't go well. It ends up with John Dory, Bruce, and Clay fighting each other. John Dory mentions he can’t be responsible as the leader and eldest brother.

*Maybe he says he can’t take it as a parent leader. He’s still suffering from his parents' death.

Branch gets in between and mentions about Floyd’s life. But when John Dory said about everyone going back their separate ways, Branch snapped at how he wanted his family back together. With Tiny stopping Rhonda, Branch continues to rant about his troubles after his brothers are gone and how they treat him like a baby. He throws away his bunker map to reveal that he made his bunker for himself and his brothers while he went to save Floyd by himself. John Dory, Bruce, and Clay begin to look guilty as Poppy and Tiny follow Branch.

*I bet it's going to hit hard on the movie screen.

Meanwhile, Gristle and Bridget stumble upon Putt Putt Village, where they get captured. Mission impossible time once the three arrived at Mount Rageous as they went and found Floyd. But he warned about Velvet and Veener’s plan. Once they showed up, the heroes hid and found Rhonda in the twins' arms with JD, Bruce, and Clay trapped in the shoulder pads. With Rhonda in the closet, Floyd is placed in Velvet’s suit. With Crimp and Rhonda on the three heroes' side, they go after the villains to save Branch’s Brothers. Back with Gristle and Bridget, they’re pulled to their doom by the chomping clown. But Viva came in and stopped knowing about Bridget from Poppy. Back out on Mount Rageous, Velvet and Veneer are confronted by the group led by Branch. The car chase starts with Velvet and Veneer performing on their vehicle and goes to their yacht. But Viva, Gristle, and Bridget made it in time to help the heroes. By taking John Dory, Bruce, and Clay out, the evil twins go onto the tower of their yacht to do an encore, Velvet’s idea, but Veneer is worried about Floyd’s life. With Crimp cutting off the sound of the yacht, Branch, his three eldest brothers sing with Poppy and Viva. With the cameras on them, the Rageons loved Brozone over Velvet and Veneer as Bridget and Gristle get on the yacht. The magic of the Family Harmony made the Trolls, even Floyd’s prison, float out from Velvet’s costume. But while trying to get it back, it was intense. With Floyd singing along, the Family Harmony was so strong that it caused an explosion of magical musical energy to break the brothers’ prisons and make the evil pair fall into the rivers. With Floyd all transparent, his brothers gathered around him to see if they were too late. But he returned with his colors, well by 90%, with his hair slightly white.

*the Family Harmony was so powerful that his musical talents returned.

Velvet tries to sing but sounds horrible when the twins come out of the river. Veneer, having enough of her nonsense, confesses their crimes to their people. Putting her sister in handcuffs, standing up for himself for the first time.

*I knew he would redeem himself.

But Crimp puts him in handcuffs cause he is still corporated with Velvet’s plans. So, the twins were both arrested.

*I’m glad Veneer decided to pay for his crimes. I think once he’s out of prison, he’ll become an honest singer and maybe have a decent friendship with Floyd. ;-)

Then Broppy kiss on the lips, with everyone going to Vacay Island for Brozone to perform. Poppy and Viva join in their performance.

*Branch proposed to Poppy to join in the band….That’s a relief because I wasn’t ready for a Broppy marriage. I hope Clay x Viva will happen, even Floyd x Veneer, in the future. But I prefer Brozone being just the main five guys, with Poppy and Viva featuring. I’m sure Viva met Peppy, and he thought she was dead during the escape.

DREAMWORKS, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RELEASE THE MOVIE ON NOV 17!?!?!?!? IT’S YOUR FAULT I HAVE TO DO THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was right about the cause of John Dory's bossy nature. Check it out, Ame Gems. https://dreamworks.fandom.com/wiki/Trolls_Band_Together

#trolls #trolls 3 #trollsbandtogether #trolls band together #trollstopia #trolls world tour #trolls dreamworks #brozone

[chefboyar-zeee]

Round Table: Trolls

In what ways does the film’s score situate the story with its narrative context?

Since music is a central theme in the "Trolls" film, the score incorporates various musical styles and motifs that complement the storyline. This includes original songs written for the film, as well as musical references to popular songs from different genres and eras. By integrating these musical elements into the score, the film's music reinforces its thematic focus on the power of music to bring people together and uplift spirits.

The score may also reflect the personalities of the characters and the different worlds they inhabit. For instance, the music associated with the Trolls may be bright and catchy, while the music associated with the Bergens, the film's antagonists, may be more ominous or somber. These musical distinctions help to differentiate between the various characters and settings in the film.

Some Examples:

After Branch demonstrates a poor nighttime routine when sleeping with Polly, she tries to match his energy singing even if he doesn’t enjoy the singing itself. So she sings “The Sound of Silence” by Disturbed, with her own Polly twist. Ultimately, he rejects it by throwing her ukulele away in the fire.

When the audience doesn’t know much about the Bridget character, the audiences is introduced to her through song expressing her longing for King Gristle.

How do songs use character performance to push cultural authenticity in the film’s diegesis?

Poppy sings “Move Your Feet” by Junior Senior, when talking about the huge troll celebration that everyone is excited for. It’s a very reaffirming and fun song to get the people ready to party together. Every song is full of the entire troll community, showing their love and connection with each other. They sing of everybody being united, which is quickly shown to not be the case.

Although Armstrong is writing in conversation with Disney and cultured groups, and I am analyzing a fantasy film involving Trolls, what she has to say about fantastical themes and epic performances still applies. The music in fantasy films tends to have epic themes that evoke a sense of adventure, heroism, and magic. The use of sweeping melodies, dramatic crescendos, and majestic motifs helps to transport the audience into the fantastical realms depicted on screen (Armstrong, 2018).

In what ways does the film use musical “framing” to structure the score within familiarized styles?

By framing unfamiliar sounds within a familiar musical context, filmmakers can create contrast and emphasis on specific moments or themes in the film. The juxtaposition of different musical styles can highlight key emotional beats, character developments, or narrative shifts, enhancing the overall impact of the storytelling.

The songs come in when characters are having moments of extreme hope or need to inspire one another

The songs are meant to hype up the characters to execute some form of difficult task (I Will Bet Back Up Again)

Because of Poppy’s character, a significant portion of the film, specifically recalled plans or imaginative ideas, are shown in storybook (scrapbooking) which immerses you more into the fantastical world of Trolls.

#oxyfilmmusical #animatedmusical @theuncannyprofessoro

#Youtube

[hostilemuppet]

does gristle junior have any role in tdau or is he purely background?

right now hes just a background character, we dont have any plans for him. he is content being bridgets husband who worships the ground she walks on

#ask #tdau

[riseofthecommonwoodpile]

Second to last round, so close to the end, and some ace shit this time (along with a lot of meh and two of my least favorites of the entire project). If you like experimental music please, please listen to Vanessa Rossetto's you & i are earth. One of the best discoveries I've had in this project, and one that I have never seen talked about outside exactly one EAI / field recording-focused website.

Arca- Stretch 1 (8.5/10)

Aril Brikha- Deeparture In Time (8.5/10)

Babyfather- Platinum Tears (7.5/10)

Car Bomb- Centralia (8.5/10)

Crass- Yes Sir, I Will (7.5/10)

D/P/I- "IN ALL LANGUAGES" MIXTAPE (6.5/10, deleted from library)

Darius Ciuta- L-C (Loop Coil) (8.0/10)

Dean Blunt Meets James Ferraro- Watch the Throne 2 (7.0/10)

Derek Bailey- Pieces for Guitar (8.0/10)

Drexciya- Harnessed the Storm (8.5/10)

Fushitsusha- The Caution Appears (7.0/10)

Garnegy & Maties- Sport Music (8.0/10)

Godflesh- Decline & Fall (7.5/10)

Graham Lambkin- Poem (For Voice & Tape) (7.0/10)

Hanatarash- Hanatarashi (9.0/10)

Henry Cow- Concerts (9.0/10)

Hush Arbors- Hush Arbors (7.0/10)

Ice Nine- Discography 1993-96 (8.5/10)

Incapacitants- Quietus (7.0/10, might delete later, it's fine but just not one of their best)

Inga Copeland- Higher Powers (8.5/10)

James Ferraro- Neurogeist (8.5/10)

Jason Crumer- Let There Be Crumer (8.5/10)

Junior Kimbrough- Sad Days, Lonely Nights (8.0/10)

Larry Norman- Only Visiting This Planet (7.0/10)

Lawrence- The Absence Of Blight (8.0/10)

LX Sweat- City of Sweat (8.5/10)

Mater Suspiria Vision- Second Coming (6.5/10, deleted from library)

The Mekons- The Quality of Mercy Is Not Strnen (7.5/10)

Michael Pisaro- Close Constellations and a Drum on the Ground (9.0/10)

Modest Mouse- Baron Von Bullshit Rides Again (7.0/10)

No Trend- A Dozen Dead Roses (4.0/10, deleted from library)

Nocturnus- The Key (8.5/10)

Peter Evans & Nate Wooley- High Society (9.0/10)

Peter Sotos- Waitress (2.5/10, deleted from library)

Phoenix #2772- You Are Already Dead (5.5/10, deleted from library)

Radu Malfatti- Wechseljahre Einer Hyane (8.0/10)

Rosanne Cash- The River & the Thread (8.0/10)

t e l e p a t h テレパシー能力者- 一緒に別の夜 (8.5/10)

Throbbing Gristle- Journey Through A Body (8.0/10)

Transient Environmental Feedback- Symptomatic Harbinger (9.5/10)

Ultrademon- Pirate Utopias (7.5/10)

Vanessa Rossetto- you & i are earth (10/10)

Vortex Machine- Television Dream (8.5/10)

Xylème- Earth Sense (8.5/10)

ショッピングワールドjp- Market World (8.0/10)

人形- Angel (8.0/10)

猫 シ Corp.- 家族. 劳动. 쇼핑. (7.0/10, not deleted but on thin ice)

3D BLAST- Music: Here to Stay (8.5/10)

#music project

[squirrelpatties]

WAIT WAIT GRISTLE JUNIOR AND BRIDGET EXIST??? IS G. JR LIKE. A PUPPET KING CHEF IS CONTROLLING????

i think its kinda like in the movie yknow? Hes still in charge but shes the one whos in CONTROL ykwim?

[trevorbarre]

Triple LPs:         2 of 2

“That rarity in pop, the triple-record set. Once dismissed as one of rock’s most bloated, needlessly over the top formats...(it) simply refuses to die”.

This 2017 Rolling Stone article concerned Bob Dylan’s Triplicate set (of yet more American standards). 37 years earlier, The Clash’s Sandinista! had finally put an end to punk rock’s pretentions of representing only ‘under the top’ productions. In 2014, No Wave gurus Swans put out a triple CD release, To Be Kind, following a series of double CDs that would easily have constituted three vinyl albums worth of material. Punk ideals of brevity and ‘no filler’ had run out of mileage, 100 meter dashes seemingly soon replaced by marathon endurance tests. Woodstock and All Things Must Pass started all this hypertrophied packaging back in 1970; in the mid-70s, we had the peerless Motown triple compilations by such artists as Smokey Robinson and Junior Walker et al; by the late-70s, there were such retrospectives as Neil Young’s Decade and Charles Mingus’ Passions of a Man; by 1979, Metal Box by Public Image represented a postmodern take on the triple 12″.

Compact disc technology meant that vinyl triples could be downsized to double CDs, so the former’s gigantism seemed somewhat scaled down, at least in their apparent heft on record shop shelves.  But in actual fact, CDs allowed artist and record company aspirations to increase in scale and ambition (the mythic John Zorn and Merzbow 50 CD sets, anybody?) I’ll end this by mentioning a release reviewed in this month’s Wire, by an late artist whose family absolutely revels in perpetuating his manic schedule, to exhaust even his most sycophantic fans: Frank Zappa’s Filmore East, June 1971, one of his least inspiring albums, but hyper-extended across 8 CDs, to cover all 4 shows that the Mothers performed, in their entirety. To be frank, this is about as attractive a proposition as listening to the 24-hour Throbbing Gristle endure-athon that Alexis Petridis put himself through in 2003 (The Guardian, Wed. 1st Jan, 2003). This was surely Zappa’s weakest Mothers, with the Flo & Eddie schtick seeming to be wobbly and dodgy even back in the early 70s.

Sometimes too much is too friggin’ much? Who buys this stuff? 40 minutes of the original Filmore East ‘71 was too much for me, so who wants several more hours of it? But someone, somewhere...

[grammarpedant]

For the micro story ask meme: 8 (sunbathing) and 48 (rampage).

A little something from a trpg character of mine who later went on to star in its own short story. 8 - sunbathing, 48 - rampage

-

[audio transmission begins]

SAMOS: What is it doing now? Sunbathing?

JOHNSON: I don't know, but it gives me the creeps. I don't think we've ever seen it this close to the surface before.

SAMOS: No... I wonder if it's related to the tar pit's surface temperature.

slight squelching noises

JOHNSON: Maybe it can just see the sun.

SAMOS: Mm. If we could figure out what sets it off when the drones approach, we could have a chance at taking a surface sample without sending it into a rampage... We could have a chance at sampling from it directly--

JOHNSON: Sure. Hey, you think I could get your junior assistant to be live bait?

SAMOS: What? Well--

JOHNSON: HEY BENIER! JUNIOR ASSISTANT BENIER, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!

distant shouting

SAMOS: [sigh] We should at least get this procedure documented before we begin with... live bait.

JOHNSON: Nah, tape's rolling, it's fine.

SAMOS: ...Wait. WAIT. SHIT, IT'S MOVING--

JOHNSON: Huh--? Fuck, is it coming this way?

distant squelching noises drawing nearer

JOHNSON: Hey, Samos, answer me-- hey! Wait, w-wait, slow down!

SAMOS: [indistinct shouting]

JOHNSON: D-don't leave me here, man, I-- it's catching up! WAIT, WAIT FOR--

eerie roar, undercut by human scream. choked sobs. wet slithering, wet crunching, a gristling sound.

[transcriber's note: the rest of the audio is silent, except for some noises like the tar sucking at the recorder]

[archivist's note: the recorder was found dangling from some foliage later, perfectly clean]

#fireolin #hey! thanks for the ask ^u^ hope ur doing well fireolin #for those who know this is the bit where Little Monster 'hugs' a human- something that Samos later calls #'parasitic infection' and 'eating him alive from the inside out.' Little Monster was pretty miffed about that description btw #once it learned things like 'language' and 'sense of fairness' and 'desire for revenge' anyway #terva hauta #verso writes #verso answers #writing #short story

[starbrightotaku]

New AU idea for Trolls, Trolls World Tour, and Trollstopia.

Princess Poppy has a huge secret. She has magic and a lot of it. On the day that the Bergen Chef finds them, she discovers the one she thought was her father King Peppy was his brother Parker a sorcerer who fell to the sway of the darkest of magic. Poppy gathers her courage and saves her people, exposing Parker's right hand woman Guffin as a traitor, and creating a peace treaty between the Trolls and the Bergen.

Flash forward five months to World Tour. Princess Poppy is making progress in the search for her parents and her poly relationship with Branch, Satin, Chanelle, Cooper, and Creek. Though she knows how much it will hurt them she has Biggie, and Guy Diamond evacuate their people to a sacred temple her paternal grandmother protected. While Creek, Satin, and Chanelle protect the remaining Trolls inside the Troll Tree. As after the events of the first movie King Gristle Junior tore down the building on one side of the tree and removed the cobblestones to create Troll Grove. While a part of the Pop Troll Kingdom is a place for the Troll leader and Bergen king to meet up to discuss their kingdoms. Poppy in the place of sharpened sticks presents Branch with a sword that had been passed down for generations in her mother's family. She declares him her loyal General and Knight Sir Branch the Valiant. First of the new order of the Storming Rose named for his firecracker of a grandma who attempted many escapes. Princess Poppy discovers her father had two wives. One her mother Queen Kari, the other Queen Percosia of the Techno Trolls. Kari cast a spell to ensure the children held an even mix of their DNA. While Poppy looked like a Pop Troll, her twin brother Trollex was a Techno Troll to the core. To keep their son and beloved safe, they had the two flee in the night back to Techno Reef. After the events of the World Tour, Barb says she wants to speak to the King of Pop to apologize for what she did. Poppy comments, she can when the Pop Trolls find him and the Queen. Delta, Quincy, Essence, and Trollzart are shocked. She as Princess ruled and protected her people alone?! Trollex feels ashamed because his newly discovered twin sister was alone in caring for a kingdom he felt responsible for too.

Several months later, Trollstopia is flourishing. Trollex and the other Tribe Leaders visit often. Trollex so he can get to know his sister. Then one day while Hickory, Tresillo, and Branch are on patrol with their unit find Parker's prisoners. To Branch's shock, it's not just Poppy's father and mother's who were held captive. His grandmother and his parents along with a little brother and little sister alive. Many other Trolls who were thought dead were found alive.

Peppy, Kari, and Percosia are shocked to say the least at what Poppy accomplished while they were imprisoned. The trio alternate embarrassing Poppy and Trollex. Trollex is constantly blushing due to his parents causing the embarrassment while Poppy just seems amused and laughs. Branch at first struggles living with his parents, little siblings, and grandma. But slowly learns to handle it.

#king trollex #dreamworks trolls #queen barb #trolls world tour #queen poppy #au #creek trolls #polyam life #polyam dating #badass princess #branch #cooper trolls #satin and chenille #trolls #trollstopia #twt trollex #trolls barb

[kittyball23]

Hi KittyBall! So as I was watching Trolls Band Together in the opening scene where Gristle is getting ready we see cloud guy under him looking absolutely WASTED and Gristle looks rough as well. It had me wondering what actually went down in Gristle and Bridget’s bachelor and bachelorette parties. Maybe drinking games? Speaking of which how wasted do you think the other characters would have gotten in Bridget and Gristles bachelor and bachelorette parties?

LOL yeah, I think that there was definitely drinking involved somewhere in there, at both the bachelor and bachelorette party (but mostly the bachelor one, I'm thinking the girls know how to hold their liquor😂) More than one person probably ended up with a lampshade on their head. Someone probably started telling an embarrassing story about themselves without realizing it was embarrassing.  Someone else probably started to sing very poorly while drunk 😆

The junior novel said that Cloud Guy was sick since he "stuffed himself silly" with food (but I think since those books are usually made for 8 - 12 year olds, they probably had to make it child-friendly, cause he really did look like he had a bad hangover lmaooo)

I know someone once pointed out that the breakfast that Branch describes - the toast with avocado and poached egg - is also cure for a hangover, so I'm thinking he woke up pretty wasted too 🤣

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #cloud guy #branch trolls #king gristle #dreamworks #thanks for the ask! #kittyball answers

[twigstarpikachutroll22]

A small pet peeve I have with junior novelizations is the way the chapters get broken up. A lot of the time, the places they choose to put chapter breaks just seems...wrong? Sometimes they’ll put a chapter break right in the middle of a scene and use it to try and make a suspenseful cliffhanger out a moment that wasn’t actually suspenseful, or just give extra weight to a random moment. And sometimes they DON’T put a chapter break at the end of a scene where it actually feels right. And sometimes, I dunno what it is, it just feels off. 

So y’know what, I’m just gonna use this post to go through where I’d put the chapter breaks in the Trolls junior novelization if I got to decide that. Just for the heck of it. ‘Cause I need a place to pin those thoughts down.

Make the first chapter the whole story of how Trollstice came to be. With no random chapter break in the middle.

The second chapter then starts off with Gristle riding his tricycle through the palace to go wake up his dad on Trollstice morning. It ends with the discovery that the trolls are gone and King Gristle Senior asking where they are.

Third chapter starts with, of course, the trolls running through the escape tunnels. It has that whole scene with the Trolls escaping, and King Gristle Senior subsequently banishing Chef, then telling his son that now there’s no way he’ll ever be happy. It ends with the trolls finding that place in the forest and starting to build Troll Village.

Chapter 4 opens with present-day Poppy reading the story of all this to all those troll kids. It contains her whole scene with them, and the description of Move Your Feet/D.A.N.C.E./It’s a Sunshine Day. However, instead of ending with the sarcastic clapping, it ends with Poppy shouting “YEAH!” and breathing hard after all that singing and dancing.

Chapter 5 opens with Branch’s sarcastic clapping. The rest of the chapter is Branch’s full introduction scene. It ends with one of the very few chapter endings the junior novelization actually has that I can fully approve of: the exchange where Creek tells Poppy that Branch just doesn’t want to be happy and she goes “I guess,” and he boops her nose and Poppy’s still unsure what to do about Branch but turns her attention back to the party preparations.

Chapter 6 opens with, well, the party. Contains the whole party scene, Chef seeing the fireworks and crashing in and snatching up the Snack Pack, Poppy resolving to go to Bergen Town to save them...and this chapter ending with her getting the idea to take Branch with her after Peppy tells her she can’t do it alone is another of the very few chapter endings that the book already has that I fully approve of.

Chapter 7 starts out with Branch alone in his bunker looking at Poppy’s invitations. It goes from there, through the whole part where Poppy tries and fails to convince him to come with her until she drops all the other Trolls in his bunker. It ends with Poppy heading back up on the elevator while Branch is panicking as the rest of the trolls close in on him to hug him. 

Chapter 8 starts with Poppy’s scrapbook sequence after that and goes through the whole Get Back Up Again scene, ending when she passes out.

Chapter 9 begins with the spiders going in to eat her, and goes through the whole scene where Branch saves her from them, plus the whole “that’s not a plan, that’s a wish list” scene, ending with Branch’s “There will be no more...” *sprays glitter out of nostril* “...scrapbooking.”

Chapter 10 contains the “Do you have to sing?” scene and the Sound of Silence scene, with one of those page-split mini-break things right between them. Ends after Branch throws Poppy’s guitar in the fire (and, as the junior novelization also adds, Poppy makes the best of things by warming her hands by the fire going “So toasty! :-D”.)

Chapter 11 begins with them arriving at the tunnels, and contains the Cloud Guy scene and the scene where they arrive in Bergen Town and see all the bergens going about their miserable lives. It ends with the “Come on! Let’s go save our friends!” “Your friends.” “Our friends. Don’t fight it.” exchange.

Chapter 12 begins with our boy King Gristle II sitting miserably on his throne then bemoaning that his dad was right and he’ll “never ever never ever NEVER be happy.” Goes through his whole scene with Chef, then the whole scene where Chef’s back in the kitchen giving orders to Bridget and dropping the Snack Pack in a cage and scaring the living cupcakes out of them. Ends with her big dramatic evil laugh with all the thunder and lightning and the crow-thing outside cawing.

To start chapter 13, I think we should REALLY add in the scene where Poppy and Branch are making their way through the castle and have that whole exchange where she misses his obvious sarcasm and then her Hug Time watch goes off and they listen and hear the others’ go off. That’s one of only two big revisions I’m gonna make to the actual content included here, I’m mostly just talking about how to break things up, I’m only adding in things that feel necessary to make it flow better. After that we have, of course, the scene where they find their friends, and Chef seemingly feeds Creek to Gristle. Chapter ends with Poppy and Branch making their way onto Bridget’s apron and riding along with her. (Also, that page-split mini-break thing that was in the middle of the Gristle-apparently-eats-Creek scene? Move that to when Poppy and Branch hear the sounds of the Hug Time watches.)

Chapter 14 starts with them being taken down to Bridget’s room. Goes through the novelization’s cut-down version of the Hello scene, Poppy and Branch getting the Snack Pack out of the cage, Poppy insisting that they save Creek, Bridget waking up and trying to get them back in the cage, Poppy coming up with this whole idea of getting Bridget a date with Gristle if she can get them Creek, and Branch’s backstory reveal. Ending with him saying he’ll help but he still won’t sing, and Poppy’s “All right everybody! Hair we GO!” Yyyyeah, this probably sounds like a lot for one chapter, but the novelization goes through things pretty quickly. The Hello scene and Branch’s backstory recap each take, like, a paragraph or two. If I’d split this into two chapters as I’d like to ideally, I’d end up with one of them being, like, barely two pages, and I’d like to not do too much of that.

Chapter 15 starts with them putting together the Lady Glittersparkles disguise, goes through Bridget strutting through town and finding Gristle in Bibbly Bibbington’s Bibs, and the “I think you look phat” scene. Ends with our two bergens heading out the door for their date, Gristle saying “And I’ll take one of everything please, Bibbly! Things are gonna get messy.”

Chapter 16 is the entire Captain Starfunkles scene, from when the pizza first hits the table, right up to when Bridget runs off leaving her skate behind and Gristle picks it up and spins a wheel and burns his mouth kissing it.

Chapter 17 starts with Bridget arriving back at her room still overjoyed from the date, and goes all the way until the end of the chase scene, the moment when Chef slams that cage down upon the trolls. Ideally I’d have the scene with Bridget and the roller-skate chase scene each be their own chapters, but they each only take up like 3 pages, so, they’ll have to just have to be one chapter, with a page-split mini-break thing dividing them. 

Chapter 18 starts out with the trolls in the cage and goes through the entirety of Creek’s betrayal, then ends with the scene where he lures the rest of the village out of the bunker with Poppy’s cowbell and Chef and some other bergens snatch ‘em up.

Chapter 19 starts with the bergens all lining up going into the castle for the Trollstice feast, and goes through Poppy’s Heroic BSoD, the True Colors scene, and Bridget saving them all. Then we have another of the very few chapter endings that work as is, with Bridget sadly saying goodbye to Poppy and closing that big door. 

Chapter 20--basically what the chapter following the above events already is. King Gristle insisting they wait for Lady Glittersparkles before starting the feast, until Chef convinces him maybe she’s not coming and they should start now. Poppy deciding to go back for Bridget and the rest of the bergens. Bridget almost gets killed or imprisoned, trolls crash in and save her, Poppy teaches them all they don’t need to eat trolls to be happy, Can’t Stop The Feeling scene. Even the page-split mini-break thingies are all in the right place here, it all actually works as is!  I’d like to make ONE more big content edit here though, and say there NEEDS to be more description of the Can’t Stop The Feeling scene. All the dancing, Chef getting hit in the head with a spoon and rolled out the door on a flaming kettle, the trolls and bergens dancing down the street, the rainbow colors spreading across it and the Troll Tree coming back to life. Like, bruh, it does not feel right at ALL giving like one paragraph to the Can’t Stop The Feeling scene that leaves out ALL of that, and then just having the next chapter open with “and so the Troll Tree came back to life”. No. That is way too sudden and rushed and I dunno about you but it leaves me thinking “whOA, wait, stop, how did we jump to this? what??” They skipped a bunch of stuff leading up to that and it shows. And this was such a big scene in the movie that barely got one paragraph in the novelization. Fix that!

Chapter 21. Poppy’s coronation, plus the after-scene with Creek apparently being used by Chef to scrub her pots and pans. Works fine as it is. And, The End.

Phew! That was a lot of rambling on my part. Thanks a lot to anycreature who read all of this. Hope you liked it I guess. Once again, I just had a bunch of thoughts that I needed a place to properly pin down for myself. But if anycreature else in this fandom also felt like the junior novelization wasn’t breaking up the chapters quite right, and would also prefer it this way, then, awesome! 

I...do not know how to conclude this post so I’m just gonna write this sentence here and click “post” now.

#dreamworks trolls #dreamworks trolls spoilers #trolls spoilers #spoiler #spoilers #major trolls spoilers

[thehappyhockeymask]

Sex with Bubba Sawyer

Somebody mentioned wanting this awhile ago, so I thought “hey, why not?”

Sweet Gentle Man

If you need a Domly Dom keep searching, this ain’t your stop, babe

But if you want a Big Bubble Blowin Baby Bubba, do I have an offer for you!

One whole entire, moldable virgin to coddle and train as you please!

You really will have to take the reigns from the start, but if you’re to the point where you’re reading this type of post you already know how it is

Really, you could just show him whatever you want fucked or sucked and he’s gonna go all in, but for your possibly-unlubed-ass’ sake...

Fuck him on your terms. His dick isn’t huge but by god it is yours and it is at your service

I firmly believe Bubba has an average meatstick and you gotta worship the hell outta that thing. You give it one wrong look and he’ll be embarrassed for weeks, so treat Bubba Junior right

Do remember to be gentle, he’s probably pretty sensitive to any stimulus, so the sex may be more vanilla than you prefer. At first, at least

Not to say it’ll be BAD, because his enthusiasm is incredible

You’ll likely be left wondering where all that sexual chutzpah comes from

It’s been said before and I’ll say it once more; he snorts and grunts while eating you out, fact

Don’t expect this good southern man to put out on the first date, but you can probably ride his face by the fifth. Just wipe off the dirt, first

Bubba is a filthy man just doing his best, but please make him scrub up regularly

If you get human gristle in your porthole that’s kinda on you, because we all know he’s gross

Ever fuck in the woods? Well, now you will, because it’s realistically the most privacy you’ll ever get on that property. Unless you’re cool with his whole family hearing you two test the springs, prepare to get real friendly with the local wildlife

Love His Belly

And all the rest of his chub

He’s fat and STRONG

Last but not least, enjoy this devoted, sweet, loving hunk to the fullest, because you can bet your sweet ass he’ll be enjoying you :3

#bubba sawyer #leatherface #tcm #slasher #slashers #headcanons #slasher headcanons #texas chainsaw massacre

[suchatinyinfinity]

For the sensory asks: 2, 8, 9, 10, 13, 18, 19, & 26

Hey, boo, thanks for these! You asked some great ones!

2. Least favorite color(s)? That yucky, dark olive green/brown mixture is an atrocity of a color. I’m not a big fan of any neon color whatsoever, and orange is usually gross unless it’s a burnt orange/cinnamon sort of shade.

8. Favorite instrumental track(s)? I’ve always loved Debussy’s Clair de Lune (it’s very calming, but now it just reminds me of Twilight) but my ultimate favorite, I just discovered, and it’s The Mighty Rio Grande by This Will Destroy You. It’s a little over 11 minutes long, but it’s so worth the listen!

9. Favorite non-musical sound? Rain and rumbling thunder. Perfect warm drink/good book/pensive writing weather!

10. What are you hearing right now? Goofy’s voice on some Disney Junior show. EYE ROLL.

13. Opinion on the smell of burnt-out candles? Burnt-out birthday cake candles I kinda like. Other scented candles, like from Bath & Body Works, no thanks. The burnt smell totally drowns out the scent of the actual candle.

18. Worst thing you’ve ever tasted? Ginger. It’s disgusting. And meat fat, like on a steak, or chicken gristle... if I get the slightest taste of that, I’m done. And it’s not about the texture at all. 

19. Do you enjoy any unusual food combinations that others find unappealing? Cottage cheese with fruit isn’t unusual, but I love the hell out of it and everyone else thinks I’m disgusting for it.

26. Do you ever feel like you have a sixth sense? In what way(s)? Eh, I don’t know, sometimes I get vibes, or feelings (like some kind of intuition, I guess) and those usually end up right. If you mean “sixth sense” like seeing ghosts or sensing a presence, then definitely. And it’s often!

[imustak]

Music in December #iTunes #love #like #happy #vinyl #album #covers #records #CD #アナログ #音楽 #レコード #music #sounds #art #Alternative #Punk #Rock #Electronic #Dance #Experimental #Industrial #NewWave #Pop #Reggae #World #Ambient #Noise #Jazz #NewAge 23 Skidoo Adrian Sherwood Air Liquide Al Maytone Alterations Alternative TV Alva Noto & Ryuichi Sakamoto Amm III Art Bears bcGilbert, gLewis, Russell Mills Biota Blancmange Bob Cobbing Bob Marley Bobby Floyd Bodhi Beat Poets Brother Roy Charlemagne Palestine Chris & Cosey Christof Mignone Clock DVA Dagmar Krause David Cunningham David Toop, Paul Burwell Delroy Butler Deux Filles Dillinger Doof Dubblestandart Edwin Van Der Heide Eyeless In Gaza Faction Five Or Six Foetus Art Terrorism Fovea Hex Fred Frith Fredy Beckmans Friction Gang Of Four Gavin Bryars George Melly Henry Cow Het Hula Hux Brown Group John Foxx John White Junior Byles Keith Poppin Kevin Harrison KMFDM Lee "Scratch" Perry Lee & Jimmy Lindsay Cooper Lol Coxhill / Morgan Fisher Marc Battier Mark Perry Martin Hannett, Steve Hopkins Native Hipsters Nigel Simpkins Nocturnal Emissions Nurse With Wound Pita Psychic TV Rafael Toral Ras Michael & The Sons Of Negus Robert Fripp Robert Haigh Robert Rental Robert Wyatt Ron Geesin Saint Etienne Second Layer Sex Gang Children Soft Machine SPK Stereolab Stinky Winkles Swell Maps Tent Test Dept The Door & The Window The Flying Luttenbachers The Mission The New Blockaders The Pop Group The Unknown Cases The Upsetters The Wildings The Work This Heat Throbbing Gristle Thurston Moore Tim Hodgkinson & Bill Gilonis Tinga Stewart Tony Fearon Trevor Wishart Two Two Daughters U-Roy Will Sergeant Young Dellinger [Sic] Zos Kia ミン＆クリナメン 安妮塔克 伊武雅刀 王立言 許哲珮 原子邦妮 戸川純 徐佳瑩 孫燕姿 大大樂隊 張韶涵 陳昇 程璧 鄭宜農 鄭秀文 二珂 容祖兒 楊丞琳 李佳歡 梁咏琪 梁靜茹 老王樂隊 怕胖团 魏嘉瑩 魏如萱 鄧紫棋 https://www.instagram.com/p/B64BmSinote/?igshid=1mabdo0rgmc3g

#itunes #love #like #happy #vinyl #album #covers #records #cd #アナログ #音楽 #レコード #music #sounds #art #alternative #punk #rock #electronic #dance #experimental #industrial #newwave #pop #reggae #world #ambient #noise #jazz #newage

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 309: Depeche Mode Catching Up With...

I dabbled in industrial/EBM stuff when I first started listening to punk music in the early ‘90s. But the exalted underground pioneers of the scene---Neubauten, SPK, Throbbing Gristle, Nurse With Wound, etc.---were off my radar. My knowledge was limited to then-contemporary stuff like Ministry, Nitzer Ebb, a;GRUMH..., and Depeche Mode. Violator was a big album for me as I was heading into junior high and discovering all these alternatives to Top40 music, and it would be a little disappointing to learn a few years later that Depeche Mode was considered pedestrian and watered-down in the industrial scene.

And sure, “Just Can’t Get Enough” is pretty saccharine compared to, say, Whitehouse. But I also remember watching some Christian television special about the dangers of rock music, and they specifically cited Depeche Mode’s “Blasphemous Rumours” and “Strangelove” as being gateways to Satanism and sadism, so the band seemed subversive to my 12-year-old mind. Now in 2018, Depeche Mode feels like an untouchable institution in the EBM world. Sure, they might be entry-level for their respective scene, but so are Black Sabbath and Sex Pistols.

I think about Depeche Mode when I think about emo in the 21st century. To me, emo is Revolution Summer, Dischord, and the manila envelope 7″ bands of the early ‘90s. I love that stuff, but by the time the ‘00s rolled around, I found nearly anything tagged as emo to be cringeworthy. It’s interesting now to see so many of these new century third-wave emo bands that I considered contempt-worthy---bands like My Chemical Romance, Taking Back Sunday, and Brand New---earning a kind of lasting veneration. 

It makes me feel like the old industrial dude cradling his Cabaret Voltaire records while bitching about Depeche Mode, except I’m holding my Rites of Spring and Current records while grumbling about the Vagrant Records roster from 2003. In conclusion, I’m young enough to think Depeche Mode is great even if the Boyd Rice crowd wants to argue otherwise, but I’m old enough that I think third-wave emo is basically hair metal for millennials.

#depeche mode #everyrecordiown