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simplydannie · 7 days

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Oooh! What if Veneer looks back on the good times he and Velvet had with Floyd like how Merida looked back on a childhood memory of her mom, remembers what Floyd means to him, frees him, and urges him to leave? With the parting being similar to how Poppy and Bridget parted.

Also, with the context of Floyd being V&V's father figure and V&V having known him since they were thirteen, I don't think it would make sense for Veneer to refer to Floyd as a little guy.

No definitely not. But I’d like think the poison of too much Troll essence alters your brain chemistry. Some reality and illusion tend to collide. Veneer would loose those memories of what Floyd really mean to him.

First of all, Brave is one of my all time favorite movies!! And omg yess!! That would be the sweetheart gesture, sweetest moment they could share! The bracelet in this story derives from the my story here :

Let Go

They did it.

Velvet and Veneer had won the Lifer Award. They were at the top, and that’s where Velvet, and their manager, intended for them to stay. But at what cost? Nearly the cost of the life of a little Troll who was once dear to them.

Floyd was on the brink of death…. There was still no sign of Brozone. Veneer surely thought that their performance at the Rage Doom would’ve killed him, but the little Troll had a lot of fight.

All this because Veneer got mad at him, because he grew afraid that Floyd would’ve really left him… so he trapped him. Now here they were, literally sucking the life out of him.

Veneer tossed and turned that night. He couldn’t sleep, as if memories were trying to come back to him. He knew at one point the Troll meant something to him. He’d have dream at night, dream about the small Troll caring for them. But those were just dreams weren’t they? Dreams about something he truly desired…. A family.

Veneer took a deep breath and finally closed his eyes, humming to himself a tune he heard a while ago. As he drifted, the dreams started coming back to him:

In this dream he awoke one morning to find a box slid under his door. He went over, knelt down and opened it. There was a note:

Veneer,

There’s so much I want to give you. So much I’d do for you and your sister, but the means right now won’t allow it. This is a little something from culture I want to pass down to you. I hope it fits. And I hope you love it’s.

Love, Floyd.

Opening the box was a bracelet, a bracelet woven together with bright colors of string and yarn. He couldn’t remember why he was feeling sad, but he felt that sadness go away. Joy came to Veneer as he put the bracelet on. He ran to his drawer and took a paper and pen….

In another dream, it was Veneer crying alone. He came home from school one day and went straight toward his room. He avoided anyone so not to worry them, but the one little person who noticed was Floyd. He silently entered Veneers room, tiptoeing to the closet where he could hear the young Rageouns cry, Veneer was 16 at the time.

“Ven?” Floyd called out.

“I’m fine! My tummy just hearts.” Veneer lied. Floyd didn’t take any chances. He pushed open the closet door. Floyd found Veneer curled up at the corner of his closet, his face hidden between his knees.

“Ven?” The small Troll crawled up on Veneers knees, placing a small hand on his head. “Ven, look at me.” Veneer slowly but surely lifted his head. “Ven! What, what happened?”

His right eye was bruised, lip split open.

“They… I don’t know they all make fun of me… why the other kids my age don’t like me. Am I really that strange? That different?” Veneer sobbed back into his knees.

“No! Don’t you dare think that! People who punish you for being who you are afraid of you. It’s because you’re different that your special.” Floyd declared.

“I just want a friend Floyd….just one friend.”

“It’s better to be surrounded by the few who love you than those who wouldn’t care. You’ll make that friend one day, Ven. I love you for who you and your sister both are.”…….

Veneers eyes bursted wide open.

He sat up on his bed. Throwing the sheets off of him, he marched to his drawer. Something came to his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was a memory, or just a dream. Opening a small compartment, he stuck his hand inside, rummaging around, wondering if he’d find it….. There was nothing. He was about to give up hope until…Veneers hand fell upon something. Pulling it out he saw it…..

The bracelet from his dream…. Only it wasn’t a dream, those were all memories. Floyd really had meant something to them. And not just a mere friend… but family…. A father. Clenching his fists, Veneer took a deep breath and walked out his door.

Floyd laid inside the encased diamond. He wasn’t sure how he survived the Rage Dome show, but he was glad that his brothers weren’t there yet, it meant they were safe somewhere. He heard the door open in whatever room he was in, too weak to look up… Floyd slowly began to except that he breath he took would’ve been his last.

Floyd could feel the diamond be lifted… he opened his eyes to see who it was, but everything was a blur. He was weak, so, so weak. The small Troll could hear a voice, faint, and familiar, but he couldn’t make it out.

Floyd felt the diamond move and shake gently. He body slowly rolled out of the diamond, on to something warm.

“Floyd?” The voice was sad, it seemed like tears were in his eyes. “Floyd. Please move. Please do something.” The small manger to turn his head slightly towards the object in which the voice was coming from.

“…..Veneer….” His words soft, barely audible. Floyd closed his eyes, his breaths becoming slower.

“Please don’t did Floyd! I remember now. I remember everything. I don’t know why I couldn’t, but I do now. Please stay with me. I’m sorry Floyd! I didn’t mean to trap you in the diamond. I was scared of you leaving me. I didn’t want you to leave.” Veneer said through tears.

The Troll made no acknowledgements, no movement, he continued just lie there motionless, breaths becoming slower and slower.

“Floyd please.” He cried again, caressing the small Troll in his hand. “I’m sorry! I-I can’t loose another one…I can’t loose another dad.” He cried, tears slowly rolling down his face. “Velvet is sorry too, I know she is. She just has to remember just like me. And she will. Please….Please dad.”

Floyd slowly opened his eyes. He turned to look at Veneer, his eyes were closed, head resting against his arms as he still held Floyd. He suddenly saw the young 13 year old he met. The curious boy who saved him and brought him in….

“I’m sorry for almost leaving you guys.” Floyd managed to say, his color slowly return to him. Veneer lifted his head, his eyes filled with happiness as the small Troll slowly started to come back. Veneer nuzzled the Troll close to his face.

It felt like old times, they were just missing Velvet… but it occurred to Veneer that Floyd wasn’t safe. No matter if he and Velvet remembered, their manager would find a way to get her hands on the Troll and the rest of his family. Veneer stood up and walked over towards a vent. Taking off the cover, he peered inside… it seemed safe enough for Floyd, they had to lead somewhere.

Sensing a shift in behavior, Floyd gathered the strength to stand.

“Ven?”

“….You have to go….”

“What?” Floyd peered down the vent Veneer motioned too. “No! Not without you. Not without Velvet. We leave together! I learned my lesson. I let you fall into the hands of that evil woman who’s done nothing but abuse and groom you!”

“You have to go. Go find your brothers…. Your family.” Gently wrapping his hand around Floyd, Veneer held him over the vent. The Troll held a firm grasp on his hand, hugging his thumb.

“You guys are my family too! I’m done leaving family behind.” Floyd hugged Veneers thumb tightly, tears going down his face. Veneer smiled softly.

“You have to let go.”

“No!” He held on tighter.

“….Im sorry.” Veneer wrapped his other hand around Floyd gently, pulling his little embrace away. He held him over the vent and let go. Veneer covered the vent so Floyd couldn’t manage using his hair to climb back up. Tears rolled down his face as he heard Floyd call out his name as he went down…

But he was free… Veneer only had to deal with what consequences lay ahead.

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mafiasliege · 10 days

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I dare you to let me go

(This is part 7 of my fic. Enjoy reading!)

Part 6 ↓

AVERY

The next two months may have been the worst time of Avery's life. Poverty, attempts on her life, pressure of the world, nothing compared to this. She threw herself even more into her work, tried not to be in the house that suddenly felt so lonely. Jameson and her didn't spend every waking moment together, even before everything went to hell, but he'd always be there. Making mischief, speeding cars on the track, sunbathing in the solarium or jumping off of his beloved climbing wall. She could feel him being there, and that was a great comfort. Now it felt so empty.

Jameson was still in the UK. He had come home for Christmas and New Year's, though. But the Hawthorne House was big enough for him to never see her.

She had to do something. Just because he told her to go away doesn't mean she'd just obey.

The next day, Alisa was in her office with Gray.

"Alisa. I need you to research every loophole on this."

The next few hours, the for of them discussed every possible outcome regarding her… proposition.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Avery?" Grayson asked her, even though he jumped on board with the idea.

"Yes."

------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Priscilla."

"Oh dear! Get inside, you all."

"That's okay. Is Jameson not home?" That was Xander, peeking in.

"Oh no, sweetie. He's in London. He had been since his mot was here two weeks ago."

Avery frowned. "A mot?"

"The blonde one."

"What's her name?"

"Don't know, girl. Mario tells me she's the Countess of Caithness. Real charmer."

Mario was the security at the front gate. No doubt they'd talked around. Even the media had gotten the hint they weren't together anymore. Their theories only made her feel worse.

Avery tried to mask her disappointment. He was flying around the globe like it was a ball, but he'd only come home for the sake of holidays. Just when she'd tracked him down, he was in London.

She was nervous on the flight there, and Xander tried using his distraction skills to it's best.

"What do you think he's doing in London? You know, other than getting into trouble."

Avery ignored that and voiced her fears thoughts instead, "do you think he's dating someone?"

"Probably." Said Lyra, casually sipping on her Manhattan. "What? It could happen. He's single and a Hawthorne. It could even be that blonde." She shrugged when Grayson glared at her.

-------------------------------------------------

Jameson was not in his apartment, not at the mercy, and not with Simon. Max had stumbled into a famous bookstore. After Avery started panicking again, Lyra tried to redeem herself for her previous taunting, and dragged them to her favourite bar place in the city.

"You need to chill. Come on, the Manhattan on the flight has started losing its effect, anyway."

Inside the club, called The Onyx, Avery realised how fucked up a sense of humour life had, when she saw Jameson… with a girl.

"We did not go through so much trouble with Sheffield Grayson just for you to commit murder yourself," Grayson said, warning Avery, her dagger eyes on Jameson and the pretty blonde sitting together. He proceeded to say something that made them both laugh a lot and she touched his arm. It was his real laugh, which only made her more jealous.

"Gray's right. Max says it's harder to hide bodies in winter." Why Max knew that, no one knew. "Besides, don't you need to, you know, be married to be Countess?"

"Caithness is in Scotland, Xan. Some women there can just inherit the title. As a matter of fact, she's on google. Unmarried." She showed him a Wikipedia page.

While Lyra and Xan kept chattering, Jameson had spotted them. She waved at him. They got up and came toward them.

The blonde put out her hand, "Bridget. Nice to meet you." Avery put aside the most vivid fantasies she had sitting there of pulling the hand that touched him and burn it, and shook it instead. "Avery."

After initial introductions, avery excused herself to the bathroom.

Stay cool, calm, and collected.

"Heiress."

Avery turned around to see Jameson standing there. She turned around slowly to face him. He looked so beautiful, it hurt. His eyes seemed brighter, somehow. And his face and posture looked more relaxed, like when you water a drying plant. She felt equal parts guilty and ashamed that it took him leaving her to feel like himself again.

"I have to tell you something." He just nodded. Her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest.

"I gave up the Hawthorne foundation. It officially belongs to Grayson now." Jameson was shocked. He blinked twice, as if it wasn't real and all in his head.

"How? I thought you couldn't-"

"I told you, I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever. But i had too many expectations from too many people. I had to release some of it. So, I researched every loophole the past couple of months, and made it official, it can't be undone now. And i wouldn't have it any other way." She always knew the Hawthorne foundation was what Grayson really missed about losing the inheritance, and she had her own foundation, her own purpose.

She kept talking, if he wasn't going to.

"So, your girlfriend's nice." The best way to cut out the awkward parts, according to her, was to rip off the bandaid asap.

“I'm not here on a date. Bridget's just a friend,” Jameson said in a small voice.

“Then why…”

"Why did Priscilla say-" his eyes glittered with emotion.

“Because I knew you'd ask her. Because I'm afraid of getting too attached again. I've been fighting against my still-consistent longing for you, and I almost gave in. I don’t…” He inhaled a shuddering breath.

“I’m scared I’ll go back and lose myself again. I’m scared you’ll get comfortable and take back you're words. I can’t go through that a second time, Avery. I can’t.” Avery put her hands on his neck.

"I won't, Jameson. I'll never take us back to that time." She pressed her forehead against his.

“Give us another chance,” she said. “One last chance. I promise I won’t hurt you. I know my promises don’t mean much to you anymore, and that's entirely my own doing, but tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

This time, it was her who waited. Waited for so long, she wasn't sure he'd even heard her. When it became clear he wasn't going to say anything, she turned around.

"Heiress."

She hadn't even turned around halfway before Jameson grabbed her hand to gently pulled her toward him…

And kissed her.

#idytlmg #the inheritance games #the grandest game #tig #tig fanfic #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #avery grambs #jameson hawthorne #javery #jameson x avery #averyjameson #grayson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne

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rosiesramblings · 1 year

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Even If

Fandom: Stranger Things, Steddie

WC: 1.5k

A/N: Dedicated to @veryblushyswitch thank you for motivating me to get off my ass and finish this :) I think the fic kind of jumps around, probably because I wrote it so sporadically, but I still hope you enjoy!

The thing was, Steve knew he was being ridiculous. The logical side of his brain was well aware that his feelings didn’t make sense. But, over on the emotional side of his brain, Steve’s abandonment issues were going into overdrive.

It started with Claudia Henderson, of all people. On a brisk fall day when Steve and Eddie had stopped at Dustin’s house to drive him to the arcade, Mrs. Henderson came bustling out of the house with a small potted plant in her hand.

“Eddie, dear,” she called, “I saw this at the garden center the other day and it made me think of you,” and she thrust the potted plant to Eddie through the van window.

It was obvious to anyone who looked at the weird plant why it reminded her of Eddie - the leaves were spiky and dark green, with bright pink veins running through - the plant’s whole vibe was fuck around and find out. It was altogether about as metal as a plant could get. It made sense that Mrs. Henderson would think of Eddie and only Eddie. Or at least, that’s what Steve tried to tell himself, as a traitorous part of his brain whispered, She didn’t get one for you because she doesn’t think of you as anything but her kid’s babysitter. You’re such an insignificant part of her life that she barely remembers you exist when you aren’t right in front of her.

Steve shook off the voice and turned toward his boyfriend, who was wearing an oddly touched expression on his face. Later, he would tell Steve, “No one has ever seen something and bought it just because it reminded them of me.” And that brought up a whole other insecurity of Steve’s, that he was a shitty boyfriend, and he kicked himself for not buying Eddie things like that himself.

The plant, which Eddie named Bridget after frankly too many days of deliberation, took up residence on the trailer’s kitchen windowsill. It was pretty cute, the way Eddie religiously watered the thing every morning, filling a small mug and gently drizzling it into Bridget’s pot. There was something about the ritual that calmed Eddie, and Steve was happy he found joy in taking care of it.

One day, Eddie came bouncing in the trailer with a library book on botany, grinning adorably. “Guess what, Stevie! Plants grow better when they listen to music! Music, Steve, isn’t that so wild?” He ghosted a hand over Bridget’s leaves and hummed, blowing the plant a gentle kiss.

“That’s cool, Eds,” Steve said, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Did you want to go and get some dinner?” It was date night, and it was Eddie’s turn to pick what they did.

“Actually, Stevie, I was thinking we could stay in tonight? I want to play Bridget this song I’ve been working on.”

The logical side of Steve’s brain knew this was a reasonable request, that Eddie had had a long week and probably just wanted to keep the evening low key. The emotional side, which had been taking the wheel more often than not lately, hissed that this was Eddie’s way of letting Steve down easy, that he didn’t want to spend time with him.

That he would literally rather play music to a non sentient plant than to eat dinner with Steve.

Steve worked to keep his emotions off of his face, but apparently didn’t do enough because Eddie cocked his head at him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Steve shrunk into himself. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Eddie squinted at Steve. “Hmmmm. Nope. Maybe if you were trying to convince one of the less emotionally intelligent brats, but I know you. What’s wrong?”

Steve wrapped his arms around his torso. “It’s stupid.”

“Okay,” Eddie shrugged. “You’re allowed to be upset about stupid things. But if it has anything to do with me I would like to know because despite all the shit I give you, I don’t enjoy making you actually upset.”

Steve sighed, and looked up at the ceiling, trying to find a way to string the feelings inside of him into a coherent sentence. Eddie didn’t rush him, just took a seat on the other end of the couch, and waited.

“I know I’m being ridiculous. Like, part of my brain knows that you’re my boyfriend and you lo… like me enough to keep me around. But I guess… I just wonder when you’ll get bored with me,” Steve trailed off.

Eddie’s face was doing something that Steve didn’t know how to read, so he hurried to explain, “I mean, when are you going to find something like Bridget that you decide you would rather spend your time on? What am I going to do when you inevitably find someone who, like, actually understands the nuances of DnD, or fully appreciates thrash metal, or fucking… doesn’t have capital T trauma from all the Upside Down bullshit?”

Eddie reached out and gently took one of Steve’s hands in one of his own. “Stevie. Baby. I need you to listen to me,” he said, his stare so intense that it made Steve’s insides do flips. Eddie took a deep breath, and gave a soft smile. “You are not a placeholder. You are not someone I keep around just until I find someone… ‘better’ for me, Jesus H. Christ. I don’t want to date some DnD nerd who loves metal and is all untraumatized and boring. I want Steve Harrington, the guy who listens when I talk about DnD and asks questions about my campaigns, the guy who lets me play my metal tapes in the car even though I know there’s probably a thousand other things he’d rather listen to, and one of the only other people on fucking planet earth who knows exactly what I went through during Spring Break. You’re it for me, babe. I’m here until you tell me to go.”

Steve blinked. Swallowed. Blinked again. “Oh.”

Eddie snorted, “Wow, Harrington, I pour my heart and soul out to you and that’s your response?”

“No! I just - I mean - I don’t know what to say,” Steve stammered. “Nobody’s ever… really said something like that to me before.”

Eddie’s smile turned soft again. “Well, I’ll say it however many times it takes for you to believe me.”

“Even if it takes a while?”

“Even then.”

“Even if it takes forever?” Steve asked with a nervous smile.

“Even then.”

“Even if I forget sometimes?” His grin grew, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Jesus, yes, even then,” Eddie said with a good natured eye roll.

“Even if -”

“You know what, smartass? Yes, whatever you’re about to say, even then.”

“But what if -”

“That’s it!” With a feral grin, Eddie pounced, knocking Steve sideways onto the couch. Steve knew that grin, and started giggling nervously before Eddie even touched him.

When Eddie dug his fingers into his underarms, however, Steve’s giggles turned to cackles. Eddie would be the first to admit he wasn’t always the best at reading people, but even he could tell that Steve’s laughter was downright delighted. Eddie thought he might melt at the realization that Steve was absolutely craving this.

That didn’t stop him from protesting though. “Eddie, Eddie, no no no nononono,” he pleaded as Eddie spidered his hands down to Steve’s sides. Eddie smiled as Steve desperately shook his head back and forth, grinning big enough to light up a goddamn castle.

“What’s wrong? Thought you wanted my attention,” Eddie teased. “Is it in the wrong spot? Do you want my attention here?” He wiggled his fingers down into the dips of Steve’s hips. “What about here?” he reached down to squeeze at Steve’s thighs. Steve howled, and Eddie, not wanting to end this so soon, walked his fingers back up to Steve’s tummy. Soft giggles replaced the echoing laughter, and Eddie couldn’t help but coo at him.

But then Steve was reaching toward Eddie’s wrists with a new determination. Instead of pushing Eddie away, however, Steve looked pointedly at the ceiling as he placed Eddie’s hands towards the backs of his ribs.

Eddie was going to die from how cute his boyfriend was.

“Baby,” he cooed, flexing his fingers just once to make Steve arch his back. Eddie drummed his fingers on the backs of Steve’s ribs, and Steve tensed in anticipation. He bit down on his smile when Eddie leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. “You’re too much,” Eddie said, and squeezed.

Steve absolutely shrieked before descending into wild laughter as Eddie scratched at the space between his upper ribs and underarms.

“This better, baby?”

Steve’s ears went pink, but he nodded through his laughter anyway.

Sensing that Steve was near his limit, Eddie slowed his hands until they just rested on Steve’s ribs. Leaning in close, he pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“I think you might be my favorite person,” Steve whispered.

“Oh yeah? You gonna tell me that every day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Even if -”

“Oh god, don’t you start.”

#tickle fic #steddie tickle fic #stranger things tickle fic #tbh i'm glad this is over with and i can write something else #please enjoy #my fic #lee!steve #give me abandonment issues steve every day of the week #ler!eddie munson

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kdinjenzen · 1 year

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on the same topic of "why no werewolf art"- as an artist who'd love to draw more werewolves and the FUN FUN THINGS, the teens breathing down necks to cancel any artist for drawing more than two people snuggling or kissing definetly don't help either, especially when one is a 'beast'

Here’s where I drop the fun-silliness entirely and start talking very seriously.

The idea that there is some sort of need or desire for a puritanical sanitation of art, of queer people, and of society as a whole propelled forward by certain people will ALWAYS be a fact of life.

This, unfortunately, is how so many marginalized groups have become policed in their own spaces.

You can easily see this, almost constantly, with people trying to force arbitrary rules upon queer labels. Labels that we, as queer people, have made for ourselves. And when these things “don’t fit perfectly in a societal box” they are torn apart and people get hurt.

There is no progress gained in these moments of infighting and they only serve to suffocate diversity and marginalized people as a whole.

It’s very much why the idea of “kink at pride” being a bad thing was tossed around and is now propelled forward by some people within the queer community because “if this is here, the cishet people won’t accept us”…

NEWS FLASH MY LOVELY DEARS, DARLINGS, AND DEGENERATES! The people who want to sanitize who you are as a person, and show no sign of learning to be a better human being, will NEVER accept you even IF you decide to bend the knee and give into their suspicious and ugly demands.

So while I said ALL THIS I’m going to also point out my post about “Why Is Bridget (Guilty Gear) SO Popular While Catalyst (Apex Legends) Is NOT” and here’s some VERY SIMILAR reasons as to why that happened:

While Guilty Gear, as a whole, is one of the most average to low selling fighting game franchises of all time. Strive was the first game in the entire series to break 1 million sales across all platforms. Which, if you know anything about game sales, is ABYSMALLY small in sales.

On the other hand Apex Legends has an active “average monthly player” count nearing 65 million, meaning people (by overall numbers) are FAR MORE ENGAGED in the Apex Legends fan base, game, and community.

Which means that Apex is far more popular than Guilty Gear, by sales, by players, and by active users.

Now I have always loved Guilty Gear AND have very much enjoyed my time with Apex Legends. But, again, numbers show Apex is more popular.

So with that said… don’t you think that it FAR more likely that Bridget is more popular than Catalyst because she’s “tiny and cute” and has decades of hyper fetishistic art and culture built around the fact that she was originally billed as “a little boy who cross dresses” until JUST recently and showcases just how much people infantilize trans people as a whole?

Meanwhile Catalyst, at launch compared to Bridget, is an actual adult woman who doesn’t lean into a “cutesy” stereotype or caricature of trans people and is actually portrayed AS TRANS and BY A TRANS PERSON… but is far less talked about or cared about?

Now add in the additional fact that so many white people also love to hyper fetishize AAPI culture and people, especially when it comes to Japanese culture and people? Of which Bridget also falls under because of where and by whom the game and character were originally designed and created by?

SO I ASK AGAIN…

What is stopping people from actively doing things that support queer culture and queer people? What is stopping people from actually supporting the various cultures of BIPOC folks without whitewashing or bastardizing it?

Nothing but self or societal imposed bullshit because “not adhering to the white cishet guidelines” set out in front of the world makes people afraid they will not be accepted.

And thus, marginalized people suffer and feel they cannot BE THEMSELVES while White CisHet folks profit off of the stories and suffering of diverse peoples.

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kittyball23 · 9 months

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Branch Has Feelings (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: As Poppy helps Bridget out with with her wedding outfits, Branch explores his old home, and experiences some emotions…

A/N: I tried giving Trailer 2 a chance to release, but I mean, we’re already about to get into August and there’s still nothing out online… But, like I’m sure a number of us have, I saw it on leak back around the 21st of July, therefore, my oneshots continue :3

Already as I’m sure you know from the new info and stuff that has been released in the past month, some of my theories have already been debunked – the fact that Spruce is married, the fact that Velvet and Veneer do not seem to be Bergens (unless they are a different kind of Bergens), the usage of ‘I Want You Back’ by NSYNC, the fact that the argument seemed to happen because of ONE wrong thing that occurred versus a culmination of stuff over time.

Note that I will not make changes to what I’ve already written, but I may rewrite some stuff as separate oneshots. I feel that making changes to what I’ve already written would kinda mess up the point of this collection of stories, which is, that they are supposed to be predictions and wild guesses before seeing the movie :)

__________________________________________

“We are family!

Get up everybody and sing!”

Troll voices from all six of the musical tribes rose up, loud and strong, mixing in with Bergen voices who were also singing along and causing a lovely melody to fill the air all around Bergen Town. How could anyone not be in a good mood? This was a time to celebrate – it was King Gristle and Bridget’s wedding day! Needless to say, there was much to do, from decorations to food to the seating arrangements and such. But it was not a matter to be worried over. There were more than enough helping hands to go around, and with music to help them groove along, the job was getting done pretty quickly and entertainingly. Attendees of the wedding were dressed down in their fanciest formal attire – tuxes, and gowns, and ribbons, and bows, and glitter were as far as the eye could see! There wasn’t one single individual who was not impressively adorned – at least this is how Queen Poppy of Pop Village saw it.

Poppy herself was looking quite nice that day as well, sporting a lovely green-and-pink glittered dress that had a fluffy, cotton train that ran from the skirt down. Extensions of various colors had been placed in her hair, and she’d even had a light layer of glittery makeup around her eyes. She knew she looked decent, but what made her feel exceptionally pretty was how much Branch had liked it. The way he’d told her she was beautiful, so cute and flustered, was replaying over and over in her head. She of course had immediately told him how handsome he looked, with his iridescent-fishscaled vest and glittery-green shorts. She wished she was looking at him now again, having her pink hand in his larger, warm teal one, but for the time being, the two of them had parted, seeing to different sections of the wedding prep and ensuring that it was coming along. Poppy’s glowbug had helped her fly along towards the castle, where she knew her dear friend Bridget was getting ready. Satin and Chenille were there, too, along with Smidge and Legsly. But all five girls were met with an unexpected sight inside the dressing room.

Rather than a song filling the air here, there was a wail, and that wail was coming from the bride herself!

“Oh my gah!” Smidge squeaked, her hands over her mouth as Bridget sat there, slumped at the vanity in her slip and crying, some of the makeup she had been attempting to apply running down her cheeks in dark streaks.

Poppy sprinted up to the Bergen. “Oh no, Bridget! What’s wrong?”

The twins gasped. “King Gristle didn’t cancel on you – “ Satin started asking.

“- Did he?” Chenille finished.

“Aw, no, that would be awful!” Legsly said, tugging at her orange pigtails in concern.

“You can just leave it to me to talk some sense into him,” Smidge said darkly, her voice deep, a frown on her eyebrows, and her hands busy at cracking her knuckles.

“No,” Bridget sniffled, trying to calm down some. “I… it’s just… I don’t know what to wear!” she blurted out. “This is the most important day of me and Grizzy’s life and… I just want to him to think I look nice!”

Poppy and the girls exchanged a glance of pity among one another. To anyone else it probably wouldn’t seem like a big deal, but in truth it was. They knew just how stressful a wedding could be, as they’d helped out plenty of times before for weddings in Pop Village. To add onto the matter, Poppy knew her friend was probably having doubts with the way she used to be the castle’s scullery maid for such a long time, ignored, with Gristle having been nearly oblivious to her existence. It was obvious to her and the other Trolls that Gristle would not go back to that, but still, her friend probably needed that extra reassurance.

Poppy made her up the vanity and patted Bridget on the arm. “Bridget, King Gristle loves you and thinks you’re beautiful no matter what. He really, really wants to marry you, because you make him happy!”

Bridget looked down at Poppy, like an epiphany had hit her. “I guess I do make him happy, don’t I?” she asked in a soft voice, then blushed.

“Uh, yeah! Totally!” Poppy said. “So even if you go out there with your maiden outfit, he’s still gonna marry you, because he loves you for you!”

The words were getting through to Bridget, and she smiled. Poppy really did know just what to say sometimes!

The twins, however, were having different sentiments. They exchanged a glance with one another and then piped up.

“Uh Poppy, she’s, um, not going to go out there with that outfit though, right?” Satin asked while her sister Chenille peered up worriedly.

“No way!” Bridget and Poppy exclaimed at the same time, and then laughed at the image that it put in their heads.

The twins breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness! It would have been a certain fashion disaster. They turned their attention to the plain, white wedding dress that was laid out on the bed.

“Hmmm,” they both hummed at the same time, mirroring each other with their hands on their chins and sharing the same squinted look at the apparel. “How far can we take this?”

Bridget perked up. “Oh, however far you want! Please! I want everything – ribbons, bows, frills, lace – whatever you wanna do!” She clasped her hands excitedly.

Satin and Chenille liked that answer. They pumped their fists in the air. “All right! Then let’s do this!”

With the help of the four Trolls, Bridget was transformed into a gorgeous diva. The dress was adorned with various colorful bows at the skirt, and was very frilly at the train. Bridget looked at herself in the mirror and gushed, absolutely loving it so far. “Oh, it’s great! But… maybe it needs more.” She paused and thought for a second, and then snapped her fingers. “Ooo! How about flowers!”

The twins gave her a thumbs up. “Flowers – we’re on it!” Soon enough, Bridget’s dress had been modified to include a gorgeous array of colorful flowers, just as vibrant as the bows were, that were stitched onto the blouse portion of the dress.

“Wow!” Legsly said, stretching herself up on her legs to get a better look all around Bridget. “That’s so cool!”

“I know!” Bridget squealed. “Oh! But how about we add little rainbows and glitter and stuff? Oh oh! And can you make my hair bigger?”

Once again, Satin and Chenille hopped in to help. “You got it, girl!” they said, giving her a thumbs up.

Bridget was once more changed, and this time, she looked super extra glamourous!

Well, maybe a little TOO extra glamorous…

Her hair had indeed been puffed up huge with extensions galore – it looked almost big enough to live inside of! Her makeup had been done heavily, with dark, navy-blue eyeshadow, a brilliant scarlet-red lipstick, and deep pink blush coating her cheeks. Her dress indeed had the rainbow designs she wanted – on top of the bows and flowers that were already there. It all was shiny-fied with a layer of glitter, making everything about her glimmer like diamonds. And that was not mentioning the large, hoop earrings that had little gem-like crystals hanging from the ends.

“Oh my gah!” Smidge said again, and this time she recoiled a little.

Bridget gave a little shout of fright when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, also. “AH! Oops… too much, huh?”

Poppy grimaced a little. “Err… maybe juuust a tad,” she admitted. “But you guys keep working on that, alright? You’ll figure something out, and it’s gonna be fabulous!” The Pop Queen gave her friend a reassuring thumbs up and then began to mount on the glowbug that she’d used to ride over to the castle. “I’ll come back in a little bit, I’m gonna just check on a few things in the town!”

“Okay, Poppy!” all five of the girls called back to her.

Poppy shook her head fondly, chuckling as she was brought back to the main town square. Bridget was so excited – so she could only imagine what it would be like to know that you were going to be united with your one true love, to be bound for life in a union that was stronger than the glitter glue that was sold at Sky Toronto’s Fun Factory! Secretly, Poppy hoped to have that experience someday, with the one Troll that had her heart captive, though she wouldn’t admit to him just yet. She knew that said Troll was still probably getting used to the whole idea of even being in a relationship, let alone with the Queen of Pop.

Hmmm… where IS he? she suddenly thought. Poppy flew her bug over to where she saw Prince D and Cooper helping out on the banquet table for the grand feast that was to take place right after the wedding. She grinned, watching the brothers pal around and groove with each other, and, not for the first time, wishing that she, too, had a sibling that she could sing with.

“Hi, Cooper! Hi, D!” she greeted cheerily, waving her hand.

“Hey, Poppy!” Prince D said. “How’s it goin’?”

“Totally amazing!” Poppy replied with a giggle. “Have you guys seen Branch?”

“No, I haven’t,” Prince D said. He then nudged Cooper. “Have you, bro?”

“Uh-huh!” Cooper nodded, helpfully gesturing his long neck over to where the altar was set. “I think I saw him head over for the Troll Tree!”

“Oh!” Poppy said, wondering what her boyfriend was up to. “Well, okay! Thanks!” She gave Cooper a high-five, and Cooper gave his signature goofball laugh as he watched the Pop Queen head off.

“Any time, Poppy!” he called.

__________________________________________

As it turned out, Branch was in fact at the Troll Tree.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d gone up exploring the Pop Trolls’ old home. Many pods were, surprisingly, still as intact as they had been before King Peppy had evacuated the town. He could see the old schoolpod, and the large one that was the one for the royal family. Which made him wonder…

Branch scaled the tree, guiding his glowbug to the right places to go, around certain familiar bends, mushrooms, and vines that were there, until he finally reached the spot, stopping short and gaping. There it was. Still in the same spot that it had always been, as timeless as ever.

His old pod.

Well, it had been his grandmother’s old pod, but it had been his home all the same.

The nostalgia hit him hard as soon as he’d dismounted the bug and set foot inside. Not much had changed, really at all. It was the same old carpet, the same old decorations, the same old walls and halls. He remembered how his grandmother would sing to him and play games out there in their living room, and how they’d both snack on delicious treats of all kinds in the dining area. He remembered his grandmother letting him help out in the kitchen making cookies, and when she’d tuck him into bed at night, planting a sweet kiss on his forehead and always reminding him that he was loved. He remembered being thankful for it, having needed that reminder to keep him planted in reality. But most of all, he remembered something else…

His eyes darted to the gramophone at the farther end of the pod, and he remembered how much his grandmother would love to play music on there. He could remember how she would dance with him, letting him stand atop her feet while she toddled them about, the two of them enjoying themselves thoroughly and laughing. They’d had plenty of music to dance with and plenty of records to show for. Though, of that collection, there had been a significant amount of them had not been played. Those particular records caused too much pain for the two of them, yet, it would have been even more painful to simply discard them, and make pretend that they didn’t exist. That’s why they were always right there, tucked behind the gramophone, where it was an arms distance away, but never dared to be played out loud.

On automatic, Branch felt himself move toward the gramophone. He swallowed hard when he did in fact see records still there, tucked neatly behind it. He itched to reach for them, to see the cover of the albums he had so wanted to forget existed. But he wasn’t so sure.

Get a hold of yourself, Branch scolded himself. You got used to the other song, didn’t you?

That ‘other song,’ as he called it in his head, was in fact Total Eclipse of the Heart, the song he’d so gladly belted out when he was a young boy, singing into his flower microphone…

… Providing the soundtrack to his grandmother’s death.

Branch shook his head. True to how that voice in his head had reminded him, he indeed had learned to accustom himself to the song once again. He wouldn’t willingly go out of his way to play it, but he wouldn’t find himself tearing up and feeling lightheaded after hearing it, either. He had learned to keep those emotions in check. Could he keep these in line, too?

Before he could help himself, he tugged the albums out from behind the gramophone. They were a little dusty, but not too bad to where he couldn’t tell what was on it. Because he most certainly could. They were four faces he still had yet to see again, after over twenty years and still counting. The faces of John Dory, Spruce, Clay, and Floyd. Also known as the hit boyband BroZone.

Also known as his brothers.

Branch felt angry at himself for already starting to feel a pang in his chest. This wasn’t even an actual photo of them! The album covers were just little felt, scrapbook-like figures that looked a little silly in their appearance, each brother identifiable by their bright-colored hair – JD a brilliant turquoise, Spruce a rich purple, Clay a bright yellow, and Floyd a serene magenta. Then there was himself – pictured with his crop of blue hair right there with the rest of them, side by side, together.

If only it had been that way in real life…

Branch frowned. What was the use in dwelling on alternative scenarios? He wouldn’t call himself as much of a pessimist as he was in his gray days, but there were still some bits of mottos and self-advice that he’d acquired then that he still used to that day. One of those was the fact that sometimes, bad things happened, and nothing could be done to change them. His poor grandmother, for example. She had been taken by Bergens, suffering a horrible fate. He couldn’t do anything about it now. There was no time machine to take him back to that moment and fix what had occurred. Just like there wasn’t one to help take him back to that other awful day, one that had happened a few years beforehand, and fix the mistake that had happened…

Branch glared at one of the album covers. A few silly songs were not going to get the better of him. He tugged the record out of the case and placed it on the gramophone, adjusting the needle so that it lay on top of it. The gramophone was old, but worked without so much as a hitch, and, slowly, a tune began to warble its way out of it, a little low at first, but then louder, clear enough so he could hear the song that was playing and clear enough so he could pick out just who was singing what part. Branch felt himself freeze when he recognized what song it was, and inwardly groaned. Of all songs, it had to be this one. The one that they’d done right before everything got decimated. He wanted to tear the record out of the gramophone right there and then, but it was too late. He was being taken back to that memory, still feeling so fresh on his mind even after so long…

__________________________________________

There was a packed house that night.

The five boys could hear the loud whoops and cheers from the Trolls that had gathered there to see the show, impatiently hooting and hollering with uncontained joy. They knew it was so much fun to perform, but they also knew how critical it was to get their performance as perfect as possible. That was, if they wanted to win the award.

It was going to be difficult, but John Dory, the leader of their pack, welcomed it. Finally, a chance to share the stage with the greats – like the Sugar Gals and the Chillin' JillyNs, who had already gone on and performed before them – and outshine them! There had been not one single doubt in John Dory's mind that BroZone was the most band-tastic musical group out there. What more, if they'd managed to pull this off, they'd be the youngest talent to ever have won. John Dory was starry-eyed, already imagining just how many pictures he and his brothers would take with the wonderful trophy. He had already cleared a space in their room on the wall, and also made room on one of their shelves for where the trophy would be placed.

He quickly polished down his goggles and then snapped them on his head carefully, checking in the mirror to make sure that they looked extra fly. His other brothers were also getting ready for their performance – Spruce was sprucin' up with a little bit of hair gel and spray, Clay was warming up with a plié of sorts, and Floyd was clipping on the one pearl earring he liked to wear.

John Dory took a deep breath and clapped his hands together once to garner their attention.

"All right, listen up!" he said. "I don't think you really need me to tell ya how important this night is, but, heh, I still kinda am going to." Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and he placed his hands on his hips in a way that made him look very determined. "We are going to make boy band history tonight..." His voice was deep and serious, and the others could get the gist of how critical everything was. Everything had to be flawless, and, luckily, it all was practiced to perfection, so Spruce, Clay, and Floyd didn't really feel so concerned.

Still, though, there was one bro who wasn't feeling up to that particular level of confidence. John Dory didn't notice, but Floyd did, and he wanted to say something about it.

"Bro," he said, approaching JD's side. "You're making Baby Branch nervous."

John Dory peered over to where Floyd was gesturing at. Their youngest brother of the bunch was a few paces outside of the dressing room, standing near the curtain where just beyond it was the large mushroom stage on which they would be performing on that night in just a few short moments. Branch shuffled from side to side on his small blue feet, and had his eyebrows creased with slight worry.

JD dismissed the matter. “Ah, it’s just the usual pre-performance jitters. He’ll get over it!”

“I don’t know, JD…” Floyd said.

“Want me to go talk to him?”

The magenta Troll glanced at his eldest brother. John Dory meant well, yes, but Floyd noticed that sometimes he could be a little oblivious to how his words affected someone. A pep talk that was good for some teens who’ve already put on several shows before might not be so good for a small baby who’d just barely gotten his singing voice. But Floyd didn’t want to go through the trouble of trying to explain this to JD at that moment. “Maybe I’d better go talk to him,” he said.

JD looked slightly confused for a second, before recovering. “Huh? Well, alright, but make it snappy, ‘kay?”

Floyd gave him a quick thumbs up and then walked over to where their youngest brother still stood, perhaps looking even a smidge more nervous than he had a second or two ago. Floyd felt pity for him. Baby Branch was the smallest one of their group, but he looked even smaller now, with how fearful he was being.

“Hey, bro,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

Branch didn’t turn around just yet. His eyes were still fixed on the curtain. “No,” he responded, his voice small, meek, and of course, babyish in its nature. “I feel like I’m gonna barf.” He turned around to look at Floyd, pressing his little hands together.

“Branch, it’s just another show,” Floyd said, keeping his tone light. “It’s just like our rehearsals.”

“But there’s so many people…” Branch worried. He stole another glance from behind the curtain, and whimpered a little.

“Yeah, there is,” Floyd agreed, “but that’s because they wanna see just how great you are on stage. You, and me, and all our brothers.”

Branch’s eyes lit up some. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Floyd responded, glad to see that his little brother was showing signs of feeling better.

“B-but… what if I mess up?” Branch asked, worry still pricking at him. “They’re gonna be mad…” The blue Trolling peeked over to where John Dory, Spruce, and Clay were at in the dressing room.

“They might be a little disappointed if we don’t win,” Floyd admitted. He knew he would probably feel slightly disappointed, too. “But, hey, remember our motto?”

Branch scrunched his small face as he tried to remember. “A prankster never reveals his tricks?”

“No, I think you’re thinking about Clay’s motto,” Floyd chuckled. “I’m talking about the BroZone motto, the one John Dory came up with?”

Branch thought again and then seemed to get it. “Bros before shows?” he asked, tentatively.

Floyd nodded. “Exactly! And you do know what that means, right?”

Branch squinched up his nose. “I think…”

Floyd kneeled down, and placed a hand on Branch’s shoulder. “It means that being brothers is always gonna be more important than any performance that we do. Okay?”

“Well… okay!” Branch replied chirpily, and then snuggled into Floyd when the magenta-haired Trolling scooped the baby in for a warm hug. Branch was still a little skeptical about their band’s motto. He constantly heard John Dory remind them any time before they performed that that show was “very important.” Oh well, he could get clarification later. At that moment, Floyd had released him and was taking his hand in his.

“Come on, now,” he said, “let’s go back to the others.”

Branch let himself be guided along back into the dressing room, where, sure enough, John Dory huddled the whole team together for one final bout of pep-talking.

“We’re gonna be entering this as band-tastic boys, but we’re gonna be leaving it as bro-dacious superstars!”

The boys cheered, excited and eager, exchanging rounds of high-fives, fist-bumps, and even a playful smack in the rear (specifically John Dory on Baby Branch).

If only the positive attitude had remained with them for the rest of that night.

Because what was once seeming to be a dream come true on that stage rapidly turned into a Nightmare on Elm Tree. With the fall. And then the vines. And then the humiliation. And then the argument…

If they had been puffalo, they would have certainly careened their way back inside the safety of their pod with their tails between their legs. But they were not puffalo, they were Trollings, who all had a variation of negative emotions radiating from them.

Spruce’s cheeks burned red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He stormed into the center of the pod and whirled on his brothers. “My rock-hard abs and I quit!” he growled, making a show of tearing his purple vest from his body and ripping it clean in two.

Clay was quick to second that. “I quit too!” he said, despising the way that folks had laughed at him, and not with him.

Floyd was about to speak up, hoping to turn the heat down, but John Dory didn’t want to bother even hearing what he had to say. In less than a minute, they were already two brothers down in their band. He didn’t see a point – Floyd was probably just going to say that he quit, too! He stormed over to the entrance of the pod. “This bro bro’s goin’ solo… YOLO!” JD called over his shoulder, still trying to bust a rhyme even as he headed off, glaring at his brothers and then departing.

Branch stood on wobbly little legs beside Floyd, barely registering his older brother’s presence, his head in a whirl. He felt tears pooling in his large blue eyes, and a whimper in his throat.

“I ruined everything…”

In his eyes, he really did. If he had just practiced more, if he had just been as great as John Dory, and Spruce, and Clay, and Floyd had wanted him to be, then this wouldn’t have happened. Then he wouldn’t have been standing there, watching his family fall apart before his very eyes, watching the band break up, watching their dream be crushed.

This is all my fault. MINE.

I’m the one to blame. Nobody but me.

I ruined our band. I ruined our family.

I wasn’t good enough.

They hate me.

This is MY fault…

__________________________________________

“Branch?”

The Troll gasped, and he jumped right into action as soon as he’d heard the voice of his girlfriend pipe up from behind him. His fingers flew to the gramophone, and quickly removed the needle from the record. Then he turned around, plastering a large, toothy grin on his face in hopes of remaining inconspicuous.

Poppy was standing tentatively at the doorway of the room, a little uncertain, and some concern shining in her fuchsia eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re crying and smiling at the same time. It kinda looks like it hurts.”

“It does kinda hurt,” Branch admitted, feeling up his face with his hands. Then he sighed, letting the smile drop and hurriedly wiping away the remainder of the tears that had streaked his face.

Poppy approached him. “Branch? Please tell me what’s the matter…”

Branch rubbed his arm. “It’s nothing, really… it’s just that this place brings back a lot of memories, that’s all,” he said, trying not to let his voice waver.

Poppy nodded in understanding. “This was your grandmother’s pod, wasn’t it?” she asked, though she knew the answer already. A small portrait of Grandma Rosiepuff was on one of the walls near the door, and the types of antiques and such that were leftover in the pod also gave her a clue.

“Yes, actually,” Branch said. “This was where I grew up.” He gestured around the space and felt another lump grow in his throat thinking about his beloved grandparent. “I miss her.”

“Oh, sweetie, I know you do,” Poppy cooed, taking it as her cue to bestow a much-needed hug onto him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. Branch returned the hug, extremely grateful for the comfort.

After a moment, Branch allowed himself to speak again. “Grandma and I did lots of stuff here. We loved to sing and listen to music together before, um…” He trailed off, and Poppy already knew what it was that he was getting at, though she did not force him to have to say it out loud.

Instead, the Pop Queen’s gaze drifted to the gramophone, and the albums next to it. She raised an eyebrow curiously. “Can I take a look?” she asked, gently releasing their embrace and peering up at him with question in her eyes.

Branch felt himself go stiff. NO! he wanted to blurt. But he knew his hard refusal over something so trivial would meet Poppy with confusion, and then have her raise suspicion. She’ll wonder what I’m hiding, he thought. He’d managed to keep his secret under wraps for this long, much to his surprise, and he did not want her to put two and two together and figure it out. But if I show her the album, maybe she WILL figure it out! Branch argued with himself. His blue face was plastered on the cover of the album just as prominent as his other brothers. But then again, I was a baby back then, he reasoned. I mean, I’ve grown up since then. I don’t look THAT much the same now than I did back then… do I?

Branch didn’t want to keep going on this back-and-forth, so he found himself slowly nodding to Poppy in reply. Poppy smiled and went right for the albums, carefully picking them up. Her reaction was just as he’d pictured it. Confusion, and then pleasant surprise.

“BroZone?!” she exclaimed. “Oh my gosh… and they’re original records!” Poppy ran her hand over the cover, her fingers grazing over the felted cover and the little figures of the boys that were featured. Poppy gushed some more. “Wow! I can’t believe it! I mean, I had no idea your Grandma was a fan!”

“Yeah… um… I guess they had universal appeal,” Branch said, very carefully choosing his words.

Poppy sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Her pupils dilated, and there was a sudden lovestruck quality to her gaze, one that made Branch feel a twang of jealousy. “They’re my favorite band!” she blurted.

“Oh… really?” Branch asked, maintaining his voice to a calm level.

“Yeah!” Poppy said. “Oh, can I please play one song? Please?”

“Err…” Branch swallowed. He’d just tried to listen to ‘one song,’ believing that after so long of being apart from his disbanded family, it wouldn’t have much of an effect on him. But he’d been wrong – very wrong. Heck, he hadn’t even remembered when he’d started crying!

Poppy saw his hesitance, and quickly added, “I don’t have to, it’s okay, you know…” She was saying the words, but Branch could tell she wasn’t fully ready to take on that option. At least not with the way her fingers twitched excitedly on the record, more than ready to place it in to be played. He didn’t want to disappoint his girlfriend… or have her ask any questions out of suspicion.

“No, no, it’s all right! G-go ahead,” Branch said, coughing afterwards to not have her pay any mind to his brief stutter.

Poppy didn’t pay mind. She squealed happily, bouncing twice on the spot, and then placing the record in. The opening notes to “The Right Stuff” began to play, making her bop her head up and down.

“First time was a great time Second time was a blast Third time I fell in love Now I hope it lasts I can see it in your walk Tell 'em when you talk See it in everything you do Even in your thoughts

You got the right stuff, baby Love the way you turn me on You got the right stuff, baby You're the reason why I sing this song!”

Poppy giggled as she sang along, removing the record when the song was done and looking at Branch. “Ahhh, I just love this song! It’s my favorite! How about you? What’s your favorite song of theirs?”

“Well, you see, um, I don’t actually have a favorite song,” Branch said, in a way telling the truth. He hated hearing the songs now, as they only brought him bad memories.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean! I mean, how can you pick a favorite when they’re all so awesome!” Poppy exclaimed, unaware of his thoughts. Then she paused. “No wait, scratch that, not awesome, but uh, what’s that other word they used… oh! Oh wait, I remember! Bro-dacious!” She snapped her fingers, happy to have recollected correctly. “Yeah! The leader of the band used to say it all the time. Oh, he was sooo cute!”

John Dory! Cute?! Branch frowned. He could think up an hour-long speech with over hundreds of reasons for how NOT ‘cute’ that airhead of a brother of his was, starting with the fact that he abandoned him. But what Poppy said next distracted him.

“Oh who am I kidding – they were all cute! Especially the baby, he was my favorite!”

Branch blinked. “The baby?” he echoed.

“Uh-huh!” Poppy said. “I can’t tell you how many times I wished I coulda pinched his cute little fat cheeks – like this!” She squealed and demonstrated by pinching Branch’s blue cheek between her pink fingers. Now that he had to chuckle at. Boy, if only she knew the irony, Branch thought.

“Oh, but Branch,” she said, suddenly reeling herself back, “None of them are cuter, or sweeter, or more handsome than you are.” She blushed, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I made you think so… I kinda go a little bonkers about BroZone.” Poppy let out a flustered little laugh and looked down at the ground, like a child that had been caught swiping from the cookie jar.

Branch suppressed the sigh that wanted to escape him. He felt bad for feeling jealous before. It wasn’t her fault. Poppy didn’t know. Poppy wouldn’t ever come to know. She was just like much of their fans when the band was in their prime, fangirling and overly ecstatic at the mere mention of BroZone’s name. And part of him really did wish he could tell her. He didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from his girlfriend, the one Troll who loved him and understood him so well. She wouldn’t keep secrets from him. And, she would also understand about his past if he explained it, wouldn’t she? But then again, at the same time it would open the floodgates for a whole bunch of other questions. She would never look at him the same way again, that’s for sure. She wouldn’t see ‘Branch,’ she would see ‘Bitty B,’ the small, diaper-clad youngest performer of BroZone. Not only that, but she would want to know every single little miniscule detail about his brothers. She’d wanna know their whereabouts and how she could get a chance to meet them and get their autographs. Those were things he didn’t have answers to, and even if he did, he most certainly wouldn’t want to tell her so that he’ll have to deal with them again. Was telling her worth it? Was what he’d envisioned happening afterwards something that he really wanted?

No.

Branch had to go with his default answer this time around, despite, deep down, his gut feeling telling him otherwise.

What does it matter! Branch argued with himself. There’s plenty of time to tell her. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen to require the explanation to be given. If there was, he figured, it would have happened by now. If his brothers really and truly cared, if they felt remorse in any way for the wrong that had happened, matters should’ve been resolved by now. Long resolved. If they wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, then he’d do the same – he would go on with the illusion that he had no siblings to speak of. A family didn’t abandon one another, so in a way, it was sort of true. He had no brothers.

Branch’s decision settled, he approached Poppy and gently took her hands. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I still love you, Poppifer,” he cooed, using her fun little nickname that he’d invented even before they’d officially sealed their relationship.

Poppy’s blush of embarrassment turned to one of bashfulness, and a sweet little giggle escaped her at once again hearing that this wonderful Troll loved her. She was still swooning when she heard Branch suddenly gasp, looking down at the watch in his Hug Time bracelet.

“Poppy! We’re gonna be late for the royal wedding!” he cried, grabbing her arm in haste. “Let’s go get married!”

The Pop Queen gasped. “Branch!”

Branch glanced at her in confusion, seeing the shocked look she now wore. “What?” Then it had hit him what he’d said. “OH! I – I mean, let’s get Bridget and Gristle married,” he corrected himself, chuckling awkwardly.

Poppy looked relieved. “Oh, okay! Because that would be weird if we got married.”

Branch quickly agreed. “Yes, very weird. Yeah.”

They awkwardly looked away as they continued to bounce agreement off one another, Branch finalizing the point with a seemingly disgusted “bleh” which Poppy copied. By then, the awkwardness had lifted some, and they were ready to make their way over. But Branch still had a lingering thought in mind.

Would it really be that weird if they got married? They had already reached the status of being boyfriend-and-girlfriend, so, logically, if things went well in their relationship, marriage would be the next step. And Branch couldn’t foresee anything going wrong in their relationship. Sure, they’d had a little tiff back when they had only been best friends, after he’d pointed out that she hadn’t been listening very well and that in turn was making her not be as great of a queen as she’d wanted to be. But even that was resolved fairly easily enough, and their relationship only continued to blossom from there.

Does Poppy really think it’s weird, though? Branch wasn’t sure, but right now, he didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding out. This day was not about him and Poppy – it was about their friends, Bridget and Gristle and their marriage. One day, perhaps, it could be about him and Poppy. And boy did he look forward to that day. By that point though, if they were lucky enough to reach that cherished husband-and-wife status, Branch knew that one thing was for certain, and that one thing was making his stomach churn with foreboding, making him think back to the albums that were in his grandmother’s old pod, the way Poppy had glanced at the Trollings on the cover and then at Branch and having not made the correlation.

There CAN’T be any secrets between us.

__________________________________________

A/N: I had to write this after seeing the way the new trailer started 😭 Bridget's wedding outfits scene was an idea used from the leaked pages of The Art of Trolls Band Together. Song used is "The Right Stuff" by New Kids on the Block

Oh yeah, and I had to include the "let's go get married" bit again, because it is one of my favorite things ^_^

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch trolls #poppy trolls #broppy #fanfiction #dreamworks #kittyball writes

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boleynecklace · 3 months

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Tagged by the lovely @mihrsuri and @leonisandmurex <3

Tag Game: 9 People You'd Like to Get to Know Better

-`♡´- last song:

-`♡´- currently watching: in terms of tv shows i haven't really been watching anything as of lately, however i did check out the 2009 adaptation of wuthering heights just a week ago! and i plan on rewatching the 1992 version soon.

-`♡´- three ships: (i'll jot down my top 3 faves from anything)

the doctor and rose - doctor who

mulder and scully - the x files

jamie and claire - outlander

another three:

elizabeth and robert - history / historical fiction

jesse and celine - before trilogy

katniss and peeta - the hunger games

-`♡´- favorite color: red and black

-`♡´- currently consuming: orange juice lol

-`♡´- first ship: princess mia and nicholas from the princess diaries 2 changed my life as a six year old seeing the film in cinemas

-`♡´- relationship status: as single as bridget jones was

-`♡´- film: the last film i saw was priscilla, as a sofia coppola fan i had to tune in. i'm not very versed in anything elvis or priscilla related or whatsoever but i loved cailee spaeny and jacob elordi's performances and the costumes they wore.

-`♡´- currently working on: well i start my MA dissertation this semester so that's gonna be my main focus for the mean time and for the rest of the months (and i'm really excited and scared to do it because it's gonna be on a topic that is very dear to me!)

tagging: (do it if you want ❤️) @vintagedolce @hyacinths-cottage @outrowingss @elizabethtudorstuff @heather123fan-blog @royalknightwalker @quigroigne @meerawrites @sweetaprilbutterfly

#meme games #tags #maria rambles #personal #Spotify

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chaos-vulpix · 1 year

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Incorrect Legacyverse Quotes 2

PART 1 (New Year, New Incorrect Quotations)

Kai: Nothing in life is free Jay: Love is free! Cole: Adventure is free Zane: Knowledge is free Nya: Everything is free if you take it without paying

Lloyd: Where are you going? Harumi: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Jesse: Wanna play 20 questions? Cole: Sure! Jesse: You first Cole: What's your favourite colour? Jesse: Triangle. My turn: do you like boys?

Kai: I think Nya is mad at you Jay: What makes you say that? Kai: Because she's cleaning up the mess you made and asked me to deliver this to you hands him a note Jay, reading the note: "Dear Jay, I hope this note finds you before I do :)"

Jamie: I want to stop them, but I’m too good to kill anyone Olivia: I’m not. Give me the gun

sharpens knife Harumi: We have ways of making people talk cuts a piece of cake Cole: ...can I have some? Antonia: Cake is for talkers

Nya, reading a fan’s question: How would you describe Kai's mind? Zane: Like an internet browser Kai: What? Cole: 17 tabs are open, 4 of them are frozen Jay: And he has no idea where the music is coming from. Kai: ...

Cole: Did Jesse just tell me he loves me for the first time? Miranda: Yeah Cole: And did I do finger guns back? Miranda: Yeah, you did

Puffer: Fresh lemonade, freshly squeezed~ Bridget: Puffer Puffer: Pour it in a cup~ Bridget: Puffer, stop Puffer: Can't get enough~ Olivia: When you work with a team, you have to speak to them in a polite & professional manner Puffer: Oo- Olivia: Shut the fuck up

Ray: My lower back is killing me~ Maya: And I~ Ray: I must confess, I've lost the kids~ Maya: Lost the ki- You lost the kids!?!?

Zane: What do you think you're going to bring to your team? Olivia: Impending doom. A feeling of impending doom Jamie: We've already got that feeling, so just top it off a bit Harumi: I've got faith in you, I think you're going to turn this around for us Jamie: I don't. I picked her because I love the bare bones of the woman. I absolutely adore you, but we're gonna fuckin' die Olivia: Yeah

Jamie: Are they really gonna beat up Chad? Olivia, recording it on their phone: Yes Jamie: ...Sunni, pass the popcorn

Lloyd: Nothing makes a gamer more nervous than when the game autosaves in a seemingly harmless location Jamie: This is an awfully convenient collection of healing items... Kai: Why is all of this ammo here? Jay: Where did all the enemies go? Cole: This room has a lot of wide, open space in it... Jesse: The music stopped suddenly! Harumi: No, there it is... Olivia: ...That's an awful lot of bass

Lloyd: What happens to all your teen angst when you turn 20? Like, where does it go? Bridget: They diagnose it as anxiety

Jesse: L is for the way you look at me. O is for the only one I see. V is very, very, extraordinary- Miranda: EGG

#ninjago #the ninja legacy whip #legacyverse #incorrect quotes #surprise appearance by the smith parents #maya has the braincell

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luciehercndale · 1 year

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When Life Gives You Onions

I craved more scenes with Will and Tessa and Lucie and Jesse, so that's how this one shot came to be. Bridget prepares onion stew to inadvertently declare her support for Jesse as the future head of the London Institute, an interest of his that he never confessed to anybody. This fic was inspired by several theories about Jesse becoming head of the London Institute after Will decides to retire. Enjoy and also read on A03 💜

It was a day like any other at the London Institute. Tessa, Lucie and Jesse were already seated at the table in the dining room, waiting for Will to arrive. He was always punctual when it concerned food, but that evening, something was delaying him.

“Where’s papa?” Lucie wondered loudly, looking at the door as if her father would appear out of thin air.

“No idea, dear. I saw him a couple of minutes ago and he just told me that we should start eating without him,” she explained. “Maybe he had to look at some documents in the study, but I’m not sure.”

“You deceived me, Bridget,” they heard Will say from the corridor, his voice bitter. “Again! I told you that I don’t like onions.”

“Onion is good for your health,” she replied. “And for the stew. Don’t eat if you don’t want it.”

Will snorted and finally entered the dining room, a frown marring his face.

“What happened, dear?” Tessa asked softly. Everyone could tell Will wasn’t in a good mood and that sometimes only his wife could make it better. “We could hear you from here.”

“Nothing, just Bridget as usual. She prepared onion stew again,” he shook his head. “Lately she's been preparing it at least once a week. I hate onions.”

“We know you do,” Lucie commented, exchanging a quick glance with her mother. Her father was a little picky sometimes.

“I asked her nicely not to prepare it when I’m here, but she still does,” Will rolled his eyes. “I wonder why.”

“Oh, I think I know the reason,” Jesse spoke for the first time. Everyone turned their eyes on him and he smiled awkwardly. “Bridget once approached me to ask which food I liked and I told her that onion bread was delicious. She asked me if I also wanted to try her onion stew and I said yes, and that was it. She didn’t ask me anymore. I do appreciate onion stew though.”

“How long ago was that?” Will asked.

“I believe… one month ago?”

“See, that’s when she started using more onions!” Will exclaimed and rolled his eyes.

Onions are the bane of the blue eyed man resistance But they have pleased the green eyed boy existence I shall then prepare onions for the man’s annoyance Because someday, the boy shall be the one who will give me employance

They heard Bridget sing from the other room, and everyone started to laugh at once, even Will. “Okay, we got it, Bridget,” he hissed, but she continued with another tune.

“She probably really fancies you,” Lucie told Jesse. “And she even thinks you’re going to replace papa someday,” she said giddily.

“It’s true, Jesse. Bridget may antagonize Will a lot but it’s not like she expresses her love for many people either,” Tessa offered him a smile. “And I think her opinion is long sighted.”

“What do you think, papa?”

Will was still frowning, deep in thought. He was about to answer when Bridget arrived with dinner, carrying a tray with a big pot on it. “Dinner is ready,” she declared proudly. “Onion stew, to toast the Blackthorn boy’s future as Mr. Herondale’s replacement.”

“You’re already kicking me to the curb,” Will replied sourly and glared at the woman. “I see now. It’s not fun, Bridget!” The woman didn’t answer. She just turned and went back to the kitchen, leaving them alone to eat. Will smelled the stew and made a face. “She’s just doing it out of spite, by this point.”

“I could tell her not to make it anymore, since she may listen to me” Jesse offered, but Will shook his head.

“It’s a lovely thought, but no,” Will grinned at him. “I dislike a lot of things and I’m very vocal about it but I’m also a grown man, which means sometimes I have to accept that things can’t always go the way I want to.” Tessa patted her husband’s shoulder in agreement and then they started eating, exchanging a few words every now and then, but not a word anymore regarding Bridget’s song.

After dinner was over, Lucie and Jesse retreated to the drawing room, a warm fire already burning in the hearth. “This must’ve been Bridget’s doing,” Lucie said with glee. The temperatures were dropping, and even if it wasn’t that cold, she’d rather not freeze. She took Jesse’s hand and they sat down shoulder to shoulder on two fluffy pillows on the rug. “She’s so smitten with you.”

“Do you think so?” he shrugged. “I believe she’s just nice because I’m a guest.”

“Trust me, she’s rarely this nice with anyone. I mean, she’s always been good to me, Jamie and mam, but she reprimanded me a lot when I used to sneak out and my parents didn’t know and she had to take me somewhere with the carriage,” she sighed when Jesse frowned at her confession. “But she treats you differently. She’s genuinely happy that you live here.”

“I don’t know. I just think she’s treating me like this because I’m a guest,” he insisted.

“You’re not the first person to stay at the Institute,” she reminded him. “And you’re not a guest! You’re going to be family, Jesse,” she took his hands for emphasis and squeezed. “You’re already part of the family. My parents adore you.”

He gave her his sweetest smile. As always, he couldn’t help but blush whenever he heard that word. “It’s nice to hear it,” he caressed her cheek. “Your parents are kind to me, and I’m thankful everyday that I get to live here as a shadowhunter.”

“What do you think about what Bridget suggested?”

“I will be honest with you,” he looked briefly at the fire, then back at her. They were close. “It does interest me. The Institute business, I mean. At first, I just wanted to make myself useful. I didn’t want to stay here and take advantage of your parents’ hospitality, and you know I’m also restless,” they both laughed. “I was fascinated by what you could do in this position. Not only the bureaucracy stuff, but also the diplomacy stuff. It is more than just being a shadowhunter. You build loyalties, you have to see that everything is fine and that the place is taken care of.”

“You are interested in taking father’s position, after all,” Lucie declared with a smirk.

They were silent for a moment, and Lucie rested her head on his shoulder. He dared to hold her, and let his hand linger on her arm and rub the area gently. “I’m curious,” he muttered, “about your thoughts.”

“I’m not surprised that you like what my parents do,” she confessed. “They are amazing. The job is not easy by any means, and I can tell they have to endure so much because there are a lot of people who still have prejudices against their union and their position in our society,” she sighed. “You’ve spent enough time here, you’ve seen how they are and how my father is. He has charisma and he charms people, and I think you possess these qualities as well.”

“Just because Bridget likes me?”

“Come on, Jesse. You know it’s not just Bridget. I think James and Cordelia’s maid Effie is also smitten by you,” she said. “And Esme Hardcastle. Let’s not forget about her.”

“Ah, the family tree girl,” he nodded. “She once asked me if we were going to get married.”

“You affect people positively,” Lucie continued, ignoring the second comment. She was twisting her hands in her lap to find the words. “I’ve seen how people glance at you when we are at events. They wish to be considered by you. People are charmed by you when you answer their awkward and intrusive questions.”

“Some people really don’t know how to mind their own business,” he commented, “but that’s expected. That’s why I sometimes give them ridiculous answers.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she said. “And people seem to buy whatever you say. That’s why I believe you’d do well in papa’s role. Have you ever told him? I’m sure he’d be happy to help you.”

Jesse sighed. “No, not yet. I don’t know how he’d take it. You’ve seen him today, after Bridget sang that song. He’s still young, and it’s early for him to retire. And I’m still young, and I think I still have a lot to learn before I can apply for such a position.”

“Well, papa became head of the Institute at nineteen, Jesse,” she shrugged, and tilted her head so that her eyes would be level with his. “I don’t believe he’s going to retire any time soon, but I don’t believe he’s going to refuse to show you the ropes either. And mam too.”

“So, should I…” he let the question linger in the air.

Lucie nodded and offered him a loving smile. “You definitely should.”

Jesse beamed at her and kissed her hand. She placed her head back on his shoulder and he held her until she said she was too tired to stay there. Jesse agreed that it was time to sleep, and after he wished Lucie goodnight and was about to go to his room, Will appeared in the corridor, as if he had been waiting for him to be alone.

“Jesse,” Will murmured, his voice uncharacteristically low. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied, trying not to sound too alarmed. Alarmed for what, though? It wasn’t like they were doing anything inappropriate in the drawing room.

“Let’s go to my office,” said Will, without adding more. The two of them walked in silence, and this made Jesse expectant. He’d only been in Will’s office once, after he and Tessa returned from Idris where they had been tried with the Mortal Sword. He helped them store the Institute records back into their cabinets safely. Jesse had continued helping them at the Institute after then, but he never crossed the doorway to Will’s office again.

The door was slightly ajar, and the soft light of the oil lamp created a homely atmosphere. There were two upholstered armchairs in front of the mahogany desk, and a couple of books lay half open by the edge. On the main chair, behind the massive desk, sat Tessa. She was reading, and when he and Will closed the door behind them, she glanced up and smiled in acknowledgment.

“Have a seat, dear,” Tessa said, and Jesse occupied the chair on the left, the closest to the window. Will sat on the chair beside him, to his surprise.

When they were all seated, Jesse spoke first. “What’s wrong?” he wondered, shifting in his seat. It wasn’t the first time he had talked to Will or Tessa alone, and he knew they meant well. Still. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“You have something in your hair,” Will said, and Jesse frowned, but he didn’t touch his head. He had probably noticed his uneasiness and wanted to make him comfortable.

“Will,” Tessa reprimanded him, and the two exchanged a quick glance.

“See? He knew it wasn’t true,” he said, and Tessa offered Jesse a sympathetic grin. “Jesse, son,” Will continued, his expression turning serious. “I think I left an answer hanging earlier, and me and Tessa talked about it after dinner.” Jesse, who was still not used to Will calling him son, gaped his mouth open slightly, but didn’t answer. “We know that you like to make yourself useful here, and we’re grateful for all the things you do.”

Jesse swallowed. “You don’t have to thank me. I know I have to earn my keep here.”

“See, I don’t think it’s just that,” Will tilted his head to the side. “We genuinely see that you care about the Institute. Not just because you live here and you believe you have to prove something to us because you intend to marry our daughter someday,” he said, holding his gaze. “You enjoy doing this. If there’s one thing I’ve learned while you’ve lived here, is that if you don’t want to do something, you simply don’t. You don’t do things half-heartedly. If you did not care about this place and it was all just an act, it would’ve ended a long time ago.”

He grinned at Will, not shocked that he knew how to read him. “I do,” Jesse answered honestly. “And I would really like to do more and to learn more from you, if you don’t mind.”

Will looked at Tessa briefly, and she smiled. “That’s all we needed to hear,” he grinned too. “If you want to learn how to take care of the Institute, we will help you, we will teach you. So that someday…” he trailed off, and offered a bigger smile. “Well, to start, first thing tomorrow I have to go run an errand,” he continued, standing up from his chair. He picked up a leather-bound book that looked old and worn from a shelf, and put it on the desk. Jesse realized that it was a romance novel. “Wait for me at ten at the portal downstairs. We’re going to Idris.”

“I really want to learn,” he said with confidence. “For that someday.” He was feeling suddenly refreshed and excited. “I’ll be there.”

Will seemed pleased, and he saw Tessa beam at him too. “Wonderful,” he said, and put a hand over Tessa’s shoulder. She touched his hand affectionately, seemingly happy about this new turn of events. “I’m sure you’ll like what we’re going to do tomorrow. It’s one of my favorite things to do,” he gazed away, lost in his thoughts. “Now, where did I put the newspaper?”

“Alright, I think I’ll go now,” Jesse considered the conversation over, and he stood up, politely wishing them goodnight. Will and Tessa told him to rest well, and Will added that he couldn’t wait to take him to run this errand the day after. He was content that they were so welcoming toward his career goal, and he couldn’t wait either.

Jesse closed the door behind him, brimming over with excitement. He thought of knocking on Lucie’s door to let her know of the developments, which was something against the rules, when he heard Will and Tessa’s voices and decided to linger for a moment to listen. “You know, I’m so glad that Jesse wants to learn how to manage here,” Tessa said. “I did suspect he was interested, but we never talked about it.”

“Yes, I’m relieved that he finally told us. And I hate to say it, but it’s also thanks to Bridget and her onion stew song,” Will agreed, and Jesse could hear footsteps inside. Perhaps he was still looking for the newspaper. “Because when I’m old and I just want to enjoy the rest of my life, at least I know that there will be someone as dedicated as we were to look after our house,” he sighed. “I mean, I know it’s not our house literally, but – you get it.”

“I do,” she replied softly, and he could hear the hint of affection that both had for the London Institute. “I’m happy for him, glad he’s finding his way,” she continued, and a smile appeared on Jesse’s face. “It’s under that pile of books, your newspaper,” Tessa said. “Oh, and Will. Weren’t you going to read this tonight? For our challenge. You promised.”

Will sighed. “I haven’t forgotten, Tess. There it is,” he muttered after a beat. “I’m not in the mood for book romance tonight.” He heard Tessa laugh and then the exchange took a path that he wished to erase from his memory. He fled to his room, hoping to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.