IF NOTHING ELSE I am glad for Buzz x Jessie in Toy Story 5

Also I'm no expert at drawing kisses, so sorry if it doesn't look the best :/

Wrote an accompanying fic to go with this, too! Below the cut :3

Summary: Following the car crash during the Central Park chase, Octavius re-awakens

A/N: Taking place in NATM 1, of course. Second part will be similar to this chapter but more from Jed's perspective; more under the cut

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Octavius groaned.

He felt heavy, like his limbs were made of lead, and it took great effort to move them.

There was an acrid scent in the air, like something was burning. The smell was rank, and Octavius coughed, the effort of doing so making his chest hurt.

Slowly, his eyes blinked open.

He couldn’t quite see anything at first, his vision blurry and unfocused. But a few blinks later, and he could start to make out his surroundings.

It wasn’t Rome, that much was clear. There were no columns and paveways of his home city. There was a blanket of darkness above him, and cold, icy snow underneath him.

He shivered, both from the frigid landscape and the uncertainty of what he was awakening to.

It was an accident, obviously. And a part of him told him that he hadn’t endured it alone.

But who was it? Who had been his companion?

He wracked his brain to think, adjusting the helmet that was sitting askew on his head and correcting its placement. When he couldn’t draw up a name, he looked around for clues in the snow. A helmet, a sword, anything.

He found nothing of the sort, though. What he did spot was a hat. A black stetson.

And that’s when it came back to him.

All of it. The car chase, the Central Park woodlands, the crash.

And most importantly, Jedediah.

Octavius hurriedly scrambled to his feet, a little too quickly maybe, with the rush of motion causing him to sway unsteadily for a moment. He caught himself before he could fall, though, and hastily stumbled his way to the stetson, picking it up.

The hat was in good condition still, a little charred, but nothing too damaged.

But where was…

“JEDEDIAH!” Octavius called, concern laced in his voice. Surely the cowboy couldn’t be too far, could he? The crash had ejected Octavius only a few feet away from the site of the burning vehicle. Jed was probably the same distance away.

Only, he couldn’t spot him.

“Jedediah!” he called again. He tried to gulp down his panic. Octavius had armor, and had fared the crash well enough, as he was protected by breastplates and helmets and such. But the cowboy didn’t have any of that. He could very well be in a much worse state.

Octavius clutched the stetson tightly.

Jupiter, help me find him.

Just then, as he was stepping forward to start another cycle of rounds by the crashsite, he felt his foot hit something that was jutting out of the ground, and he fell forward with a yelp. Octavius cursed under his breath, feeling a slight pain shoot through his leg from the impact. But he froze and forgot all about it when he saw what it was that he tripped on.

It was no rock, or stick as he had initially believed when it happened. It was a boot, sticking out of the snow.

Octavius gasped when he saw that it wasn't just a boot, but a boot attached to the very cowboy he was looking for, submerged in the snow.

"Jedediah!" he cried, wasting no time in brushing the snow off the man.

Summary: There's a reason Octavius doesn't drive...

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"YAHOOOOO!"

Jed hollered in time with the scream Octavius let out.

"AHHHH! Jedediah!"

Octavius squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to see if they would make it or not. Why he had agreed to this was beyond him. If it were up to him, they would be taking a leisurely drive around the museum, as they had done before. Not sitting in the car, hoping against hope that they'd be able to successfully complete the crazy leap off a ramp and over ten crates!

He gave a startled yelp when he felt the car land roughly, finding that, by some miracle, they were able to land on the ramp that was on the other side.

Jed skid the car to a stop, a big grin on his face.

"We made it!" he cheered, pumping a fist in the air. "YEEHAW! Now that was somethin', right partner?"

"Indeed... something I shall never do again!" Octavius huffed, making quickly to undo his seatbelt and thrust the car door open so he could escape.

Jed glanced at him, bewildered. "Woah, woah there, Oct! Slow it down! Where you off to in such a hurry?"

The cowboy caught up to him and grabbed his arm. The Roman whirled around.

"Jedediah, I shall not partake in activities that are bound to have us killed!"

"Aw, c'mon, Oct! You ain't gotta worry 'bout that, we were perfectly safe! Live a little, will ya?"

"I do plan to live," Octavius quipped, "which is the reason for my refusal to partake in such activities!"

Jed frowned a little, but at the same time, he didn't want to upset him. True, he had been, as of late, daring to get more and more adventurous with what he could do with the car, having obstacles set up - sometimes with the help of Larry, sometimes with the help of his and Octavius's own men, or the other exhibits - so they could ride them. Maybe, he mused, it was time to tone it down a little.

"All right, look," Jed sighed. "We don't gotta go off stuntin' if it really makes ya that uncomfortable. It's just 'sposed to be all in good fun, but I won't do it if you ain't havin' any. You got my word on that, 'kay partner?" He gave a light playful punch on the other man’s arm and grinned, showing he meant no harm.

Octavius also sighed. "I shall take your word on it," he said. "However... I do wish to maneuver the vehicle the next time."

Jed raised a brow at him. "Uh... you sure 'bout that, pal?"

Summary: With the tablet remaining in London, Octavius is faced with the fact that he may never be able to see Jedediah again; Taking place in NATM 3 Secret of the Tomb

A/N: Hi!! I'm new to this fandom (even though I have been lurking for almost a year now, lmao) writer and artist here ✋ Anyway I'm posting this fic as part of the Exhibit of the Week event that @natmarchivist is running, this week Octavius is being highlighted. This is a 2 part fic, 2nd part will be posted when it's Jed's week :)

And yes I know there's tons of versions of this scene/scenario written, but here's my take on it anyway

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"Well. I'm guessin' this is where we go off partin' ways, partner." 

Octavius peered over at Jed. 

Larry had just left the two of them, and they were the only ones left in the Hall of Miniatures. Well, the only ones alive. 

With the tablet having been brought out of the Natural history museum by the time nightfall had hit, nobody else had come alive except those who’d traveled with it. Of them included a handful of exhibits – Teddy, Sacajawea, Atilla, Laa. 

And of course, each other. 

Looking around now, Octavius thought again about what Jed had said a few short moments ago to Larry. About how it was quiet. It was a preview of what it would be like from now on at the museum. Because the tablet had stayed behind at the British Museum in London, along with Ahkmenrah. 

Which now meant that everyone else would no longer come to life. 

It was a hard pill to swallow, and a reality that Octavius partly wished he wasn’t in. But it was as it was. Everyone had made the decision together. But a part of the Roman couldn’t help but be the smallest bit selfish... "We do not have to, you know," he said in response to Jed. The cowboy looked at him. "What?" Octavius scuffed the floor with his sandal. "We could simply stay as we are, here. Together. We could even, well... remain in embrace or something similar..." He ducked his head down shyly after he suggested it. After all, like Jed said once, they were men. And in being men they typically didn't go off showcasing emotion like this with one another. They usually just roughed it together, sharing laughs and things. But this was a serious moment, the way he saw it. When he managed to peer up at Jed, the other man actually looked like he might have been considering what Octavius was saying. There was a gleam in his eye that made the whole somber mood of the moment uplift just a little. But the next moment that uplifty feeling disappeared as Jed shook his head. "Naw, Octy. As much as I like the way it sounds, we can't go off doin' that. You remember what we told Larry, right? We're museum exhibits. Folks n' their youngins'll look at us and learn a lil something." Octavius nodded somberly, knowing he was right. They had a responsibility. Still, though, he wished things were different... Jed was looking at him now with a smile that had a sort of sadness behind it, and he gave the Roman a playful little nudge with his shoulder. "Gonna miss me, ain't ya?" It's meant to sound a bit teasing, the way Jed always was with him, but Octavius can't find himself replying with his own usual sarcastic reply. If he did, he probably would've blatantly denied the cowboy, saying something like "Miss you? Hardly," and scoff. This time, he just nodded again. "Yes," he says, in a low, soft voice. "I shall. And... very much so..." He knows he's sounding watery there towards the end of his words, but he doesn't care. This is the type of emotion that this moment was stirring in him. That Jed was stirring in him. And Jed doesn't respond in his usual way, either, which would be a tease that Octavius got the "waterworks goin'." He instead opens his arms and murmurs a gentle "C'mere." He's looking the same way he had when he was bidding Larry a goodbye, and while before it made Octavius sort of roll his eyes (I mean, it wasn't completely possible for a miniature to hug a full grown person, after all) right now it's exactly what he needs. Octavius chuckles, that chuckle morphing into a light sob as he connects the two, wrapping his arms wholly and heartily around the cowboy. 

He hears Jed sigh, alternating between patting his back and rubbing it in soothing motions, which Octavius reciprocates. Honestly, he could stay in that moment forever. Letting go of the man and not knowing when he’ll be able to see him again was a thought that made those stray tears slip out of his eyes as he lightly wept.

“I’m gonna be missin’ you too, boy,” Jed whispered into his ear. “More than you can imagine.” Octavius heard a sniffle a second later, followed by a chuckle. “Shoot. Makin’ me go all leaky, Octy.” 

They parted, and Jed took the opportunity to wipe at his own eyes, that sorrowful smile still on his face. 

When he got himself recomposed, he locked his eyes on Octavius, and cowboy and Roman gaze at each other - blue on brown, and brown on blue - like they’re trying to drink in every detail, to emblazon it into memory before the inevitable sunrise came. 

And then Octavius took a chance. He reached down, finding Jed’s hand and taking it in his. Part of him thinks maybe Jed will resist. After all, the cowboy hadn’t wanted to hold his hand when they’d gotten stuck in the heating vents. And even though he’d done so on the rooftop over in London, it was when they were thinking they were about to die. 

But Jed doesn’t resist. The cowboy looked down and easily interlaced their fingers together, grasping tight as he looked back up at Octavius, who goes forth with the most difficult part of all this. "Farewell, Jedediah," he murmured softly. 

But Jed shook his head. "Don't go off sayin' that, kemosabe.” 

Octavius furrowed his brow a little, confused, until Jed spoke up again. 

“It ain't a goodbye. It's a ‘til next next time.’" 

It only worked to somber Octavius’ mood a little more. It really was wishful thinking, the way he saw it. "But... there may not be a next time..." the Roman pointed out. He wasn’t keen on bursting Jed’s bubble, but the reality check was necessary. 

But Jed only shrugged, with a hopeful glint in his blue eyes. "I'm havin' a feelin' there will be." 

Octavius didn’t know why, but he almost felt like he believed him. Sure, he’s still wondering what would prompt the tablet to make its return to their museum, but he didn’t give it much thought, instead using those last precious moments to just live in the few moments left with Jed. "Very well, then," Octavius said, lightly squeezing the cowboy's hand and smiling gently at him. 

"Until we meet again, Jedediah."

***To be continued***

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A/N: Cross-posted on AO3 as well!

Yes, here it is! :D

Surprise (a Trolls fanfic)

“Hey, Branch? It’s almost showtime, I was just thinking that maybe we could…”

The Pop Queen cut off her own question with an enormous gasp.

“WHHHHHAAAAAAT?!?!”

It was simply impossible for her to believe the sight in front of her. Granted, she knew some of what she would find when she ventured backstage to find her boyfriend. She knew of his brothers, and of how they were the sensational boyband known as BroZone. But what she did not at all anticipate were the four other Trolls who made up the other insanely popular boyband that there had been back in the day. 

And, recalling that that band had had five members - and seeing that her boyfriend was costumed to the same chic style they were wearing at that moment - it suddenly all made sense in a whirlwind of revelation.

“Kismet?” she exclaimed in a squeak, pointing a shaky hand at Branch. “You were in BroZone AND Kismet? And you… didn’t… tell me?!” She shot her gaze at the brothers. “Guys, did you know about this?”

They hurriedly denied.

“I’m just as surprised as you are, Pops,” John Dory admitted.

“Not a clue,” Bruce answered.

“Nope,” Clay said, putting his hands up and taking a couple steps back, while Floyd replied with a mystified “Uh-uh,” and a small shake of his head.

At this point, Poppy wasn’t even sure how she was still able to keep standing there - she was trembling so much from the excitement building up inside of her, she was just about ready to collapse!

Branch himself shrugged, keeping collected. “Surprise,” he chuckled.

Poppy couldn’t help herself anymore. Forgetting about everything but being filled with happiness - and not being able to coherently form any other sentences - she rushed forward and threw her arms around Branch’s neck, screaming in delight. Then, she rushed to hug each of his friends, taking Hype, Ablaze, Boom, and Trickee off guard with her uncontained enthusiasm and bone-crushing embrace. And then still, she leapt over towards JD, Bruce, Clay, and Floyd, hugging them for good measure, too!

Hype shook his blue head with a smirk. "Well, that's some girl you got there, Branch!" he exclaimed.

"And this is some sneaky secret-keeping boyband-extraordinaire boyfriend I've got!!" Poppy shouted, finding her voice again and nearly dizzying all nine men with all her jumping up-and-down on the spot. And now that she was speaking again, she couldn’t seem to stop! The words tumbled out of her a hundred miles a minute.

“This is incredible! I really really REALLY can’t believe this! I’m so excited I could SCREAM! I think I will scream! AAAIIYYIII!!! Okay, okay, I’m done now. No, just kidding, I’m actually not. AHGHGH! I’m not gonna be over this for, like, a SUPER long time! I, like, REALLY need all of your autographs, too. Ooo! And a picture! Well, more like a dozen pictures with you guys. And then I’m gonna need copies! And then copies of the copies!! And… and… would it be weird if I fainted right now? Because I totally feel like I’m gonna faint right now, hehe!”

And she did. Expended, she keeled over with that ear-to-ear smile still plastered on her face. Branch caught her right before she fell to the ground, and carried her in his arms.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he said to his friends and brothers, smirking at the Pop Queen. “I’m gonna get her situated in the front row. Then we can get this show rolling, alright?”

And that’s just what he did, leaving Kismet and BroZone to themselves.

Both boybands looked at each other awkwardly, not sure what to say to each other. At least, until Floyd broke the ice, smiling politely.

Summary: Poppy and Branch are out, seeking peace, quiet, and each other. Though, with four not-so-discreet snoopers around, that may not be so much of a possibility

A/N: Welcome to the next oneshot collection I've planned for TBT, "Brodacious!" (Also found on AO3, Wattpad, and Fanfiction.net under the same name) Can't wait to write for the Main 7, but of course, going to kick things off with a little Broppy ;) Think of this first one as a new edition (haha) of my oneshot from Trolls 3.0 "Setting the Mood" (ch 11) Rated G!

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Being a queen was a lot of work.

Branch knew this about Poppy, even before she had officially placed the crown on her head and received the title. Seeing King Peppy run Pop village, and then Poppy succeeding him, he could tell that the duties eventually took their toll on the two Trolls.

But, in turn, that’s what made quiet moments more appreciated. The times where she’d have a break to share alongside Branch for just the two of them to do as they pleased were always cherished, even if it was something simple like staying in his bunker, cuddled on the couch,eating cupcakes and other sweets while whispering silly but sweet things to one another. Or whether it was something a little more planned, like the picnic date he’d taken her out for that evening.

Twilight had fallen, and the sky was painted a beautiful gradient shade of orange and purple. Stars began to dot the sky, and the glow bugs began to flutter out, adding beauty to the scene around them. Though to Branch, nothing was more beautiful than the sight of the pretty pink-haired Troll that he was proud to call his girlfriend, even if she had a little bit of frosting stuck to her cheek from the cupcake she was eating. But it was not to worry. That’s why she had him. He was her partner, the metaphorical king to her queen, and the cupcake-frosting-wiper to her cupcake-frosting-mess.

He chuckled, scooting a little closer and setting his own cupcake down on the picnic blanket so that he could reach up and dab at her cheek with a napkin. She giggled in spite of herself and not being more cautious to not make such a mess eating, and then looked up gratefully into his deep, blue eyes. Branch felt himself entranced by her fuchsia gaze as well, and his hand lingered on her cheek, using his thumb to caress the skin where her cute freckles were. The moment was so perfect – why, it even sounded like there was sweet music going off in his head just from looking at her so.

But… maybe it wasn’t just in his head. Poppy blinked, coming out of her trance, and perked an ear. Branch did too, glancing around but not seeing anyone around just yet. Then he heard the voices a little more clearly – four very distinct and recognizable voices - and some rustling in the nearby bushes as an indicator of where it was coming from.

“Oh, oh-oh-oh, yeaheahah, come on, come on

Oh, oh-oh-oh, Sha-la-lala-la, la-lala, mmm-hmmm…”

Not making a whole lot of effort to hide themselves much, Branch and Poppy could see the heads of John Dory, Clay, and Floyd peeking out from behind the bushes, harmonizing a melody, while Bruce took on the main vocals.

“There, you see her,

Sitting there across the way,

She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her...

And you don’t know why but you’re dying to try

You wanna, kiss the girl…”

Branch rolled his eyes as his other brothers added their own voices.

“Yeah, you want her,

Look at her you know you do,

It’s possible she wants you to,

But there’s one way to ask her

One way to ask her

One way to ask her…

Boy, you better do it soon,

No time would be better,

And it don't take a word, not a single word,

Go on, and kiss the girl, kiss the girl…”

Poppy giggled a little at their antics, but then grimaced a little upon seeing the rather annoyed look on Branch’s face. She knew that Branch definitely didn’t like this. She gently patted his hand. “Hey,” she said softly, “we can move somewhere else, you know.”

Branch glanced at her a bit deadpanned, but then a slight smirk tugged the corner of his lip. “Actually, I’d rather take the advice.”

And before Poppy could question what was going on, she was promptly tugged towards his face, his lips enveloping hers. Poppy sighed gratefully and returned the kiss as an eruption of wolf-whistles and jeering came from the other side of the bush.

“Woo-hoo! Way to go Branch the Heartthrob 2.0!” Bruce called out.

“Cool as ice but with all the spice!” John Dory riffed.

Clay in the meantime elbowed his brothers and gestured out wildly towards the pair. “See? SEE? Serious Boy Clay still has a couple of old tricks up his sleeve!”

“Way to go, Bromeo!” Floyd shouted to Branch encouragingly, clapping his hands.

But Poppy and Branch remained deaf to the brothers, their only focus being on the passion that they ignited between each other.

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A/N: I don't know about you, but when I watched 2023 Little Mermaid earlier this year, my brain kept distracting me by saying "Yo, Sebastian is just Spruce with a Jamaican accent" lmaooo

Summary: A month after his imprisonment, Veneer is paid a visit from someone he didn’t think he’d ever see again

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“Aw, no…”

Veneer moaned to himself, slumping down on his cot and facepalming in dismay. He was so not in the mood for this. He never was. And today it was hitting especially hard. Maybe because it had been exactly a month since his incarceration. Maybe because his attempt to speak to his sister had resulted in the throbbing pain that plagued his left cheek. Or maybe because of the haranguing speech that he knew awaited him once he left his cell.

He peeked a glance at the guard awaiting him, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as if to say “Well? Are you coming or not? You may have all day, but not everybody else does!” They were usually stoic, poker-faced, and unsympathetic towards inmates’ desires. Rightly so. Much of the prisoners were delinquents who, if shown even an ounce of freedom, would take it to the extreme. His own sister had learned the hard way when her request to have the ankle chain removed from her leg was surprisingly granted.  The teen was quick to make a run for it, but even quicker to have been thwarted by the security. Veneer hadn't really seen Velvet around since, but from what he heard, she was taken into solitary confinement.

That was why he had made it his mission to be on his very best behavior. He'd speak when spoken to, eat the entire tray of slop that they called “food,” and hit the hay as soon as lights out was called. He never looked for fights or started any, and mostly kept to himself. So maybe, just maaaybe, if he asked really nicely, he could get out of this.

“Say, you know what? I'm not really sure if I can do this. You think maybe we could pick some other time?” Veneer grinned, hoping he looked and sounded polite.

But the guard was unmoved. "NO.”

“But… I'm really not feeling well!” It was a little true. Veneer's stomach was churning at the thought of leaving his cell for what was intended for him. In a desperate attempt, he clasped his hands together, stuck his bottom lip out in a pout and made his eyes big. “Pretty pleeeease?”

The guard had an unreadable expression for a moment, before he raised his walkie talkie up to his mouth to speak. “Increase the prison sentence for inmate number 8231978.”

Veneer dropped and act and gasped. “What? No! Okay, alright, I'll come!”

The guard humphed, unlocking the cell door so the teen could exit. With cuffs secured to his hands and an ankle chain to his left leg, the guard guided Veneer down the hallway.

The former Pop-star suppressed a groan and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. This was one of the parts he hated about this. The ‘Walk of Shame.’ The glares he'd receive. The jeers sent his way. Veneer wished he could burrow himself in the ground if it meant he didn't have to see the dirty looks being cast at him. And if looks could kill… Veneer shuddered to think that he'd probably be dead many times over.

Among other treacherous felonies, it seemed Mount Rageons truly despised frauds. Veneer supposed he understood why. It broke a golden value that was very challenging to win back - trust. He needn't look any further for an example of that, not only with what he and his sister had done, but also for his own sentiments towards her now. The resentment over Velvet’s manipulation… and the painful sorrow he felt in his heart at her stubbornness in refusing to ever speak to him again.

He focused on the sound of the clinking chain rather than the colorful words of the other inmates, and felt only a fraction of relief once he was out of that hallway and brought into the next room over. Veneer stared at the familiar tile flooring beneath his feet. It was perhaps slightly more welcoming in sight than the cell units, for its brighter lights and fresher smell. But that's where the welcome wore out. So far, this room hadn't been a place of positivity for him.

Veneer lifted his head slightly to assess the scene today. The booths were not as busy as it could be, which he was silently grateful for. The less folks to see him, the better. Inmates, all donning the same shabby orange jumpsuit he had on, were seated at them and already engaged in their own conversations with the recipients on the other end of the glass that separated them. He heard snippets of the chatting as he passed by.

“Six more months in the brig, can you believe it? Six months! I'll be old and wrinkled by then - “

“ - and you can't even tell the difference between the chicken and the broccoli sometimes. Ugh, it's awful! How can that even be allowed? That should be a crime!”

“Friends? In prison? Pfft, come on, dude! This isn't gradeschool - “

Veneer attempted to swallow down the lump in his throat, and thought about who his visitor would be this time around. Maybe it was a Mount Rageon, reminding him of how they used to be a fan of his music until he turned out to be a phony, while he sat, quietly mumbling an “I'm sorry” that fell deaf upon their ears. Or, they could whisper about how they still liked him, and believed that the whole Troll-talent thing was an elaborate hoax to spice up the drama. Veneer hated that scenario more than the first, and he would get frustrated in explaining that his jail-time was deserved. Or maybe still, it could be his parents, there to chew him out and express their disappointment in him and his sister. The first time they'd come, Veneer had easily taken the verbal beating, but Velvet only had her anger spiked. He shuddered remembering the way she'd spewed a string of obscenities so foul, even a sailor would be put to shame.

Veneer didn’t dare look up to see who it was at the booth when the guard told him to be seated. He just picked up the phone, and tried to sound somewhat alive as he mumbled into it.

“Hello?”

“It isn't as hip as your old pad, but at least it's something, huh?”

Veneer gasped, recognizing the serene voice at once, and whipped his head up. “Floyd?”

Sure enough, it was the teal Troll speaking into the phone’s receiver. When Floyd offered a gentle smile, Veneer couldn’t help grinning back. Floyd had that effect on folks, it seemed, one of shining positivity even in the darkest times. But that grin disappeared when he caught sight of the Troll’s hair, a rich sweep of magenta… save for the significant white streaks that ran through it. Ones that had been caused by Veneer’s own doing. The guilt bit at him, and the teen suddenly didn’t feel comfort in his unexpected presence. “Floyd, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I came to see you,” he answered simply.

“Why?” Veneer asked, flailing his arms in a baffled manner. “If I were you, I’d be the last person I’d wanna see!” It was only when the guard standing at the far end of the room had shot him a warning look that Veneer realized his outburst had been too loud, and he toned it down.

“That’s not true, Veneer,” Floyd said, and then he smirked. “I’d say your sister wins in that category, wouldn’t you?”

Veneer had to chuckle at that. “Yeah, you are so not wrong there.”

Floyd laughed a little, too, and then spoke again. “But even then, I’m still gonna try to talk to her at some point, too.”

“Good luck with that,” the former Pop-star scoffed. “Anytime I’ve tried to talk to her, it just ends like this.” He turned his face to the side a little so Floyd could see the ugly purplish bruise that was his left cheek.

The Troll winced. “Ouch.”

“Ouch is right,” Veneer whimpered, gently touching the injury in hopes that perhaps it didn’t throb as much. Nope. Still did. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave an exasperated groan, unable to contain it in him anymore. “So much for my sister not treating me like garbage. This has literally been the worst month of my life! Vel’s never gonna talk to me again. This uniform stinks! And you can only chop so many rocks before it starts to get to your head…” He huffed and heaved a sigh. “You’re SO lucky you don’t ever have to go through something like this. You’ve probably never done one bad thing in your life!”

Veneer expected him to agree right away, but became curious at Floyd’s silence, and the shamed look accompanying it. “Don’t be so sure.”

The teen cocked his head. “Wha?”

The Troll nodded. “I did something twenty years ago that I regret to this very day.”

“Geez,” Veneer said, considering the amount of time. He was hardly twenty years of age himself! “What happened?”

“I abandoned my baby brother. I promised I’d come back, but I never did…” Floyd’s voice got quieter as he continued to explain. “Turned out he wasn’t as well off as I thought he’d be. Our Grandma died, and there wasn’t anybody else to take care of him.”

Veneer winced. “Oof. Sounds rough.”

“Believe me, he let me know,” Floyd confirmed. “He was pretty upset. But then do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“He forgave me. Sure, it’s gonna take some time to heal the hurt of the past, but we know we can do it. And I'm confident that you and Velvet can do it, too.”

But Veneer disagreed. “How can you say that?” he blurted. “You’ve seen Vel. You’ll have better luck talking to a brick wall! It’s hopeless!”

Floyd paused for a moment, considering his next words. “You know, I felt pretty hopeless inside that diamond. You seemed pretty in love with all that fame and money, and whatever other ‘bling-a-ding’ you had…”

“Don’t remind me,” the teen whimpered, embarrassed for the selfish behavior he’d exhibited.

“And yet, you listened to me… didn’t you?”

“Yeah…” he replied warily.

“Then I trust Velvet can with you.”

“But you don’t understand!” Veneer cried. “Vel and I aren’t the same! Well… not entirely,” he amended, recalling how he and she hadn't been so different when it came to their desires for fame and fortune. “Just because I listened doesn’t mean Velvet will. That part of her that would listen has been long gone.”

Floyd cocked his head. “What part?” he pressed.

“Oh, you know,” Veneer went on, “the part that liked to make up bad dances, and didn’t care if we sang off key, as long as we were having fun.”

“Ohh,” The Troll said, nodding in understanding. “But you never know. That part of her could still exist.”

Veneer gave a dry laugh. “Yeah right.”

“I’m serious,” Floyd said. “She’s still there. You just gotta help her find it again.”

The teen eyed the Troll. “You really, truly think that’s possible?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

“Let’s hope not,” Veneer said, feeling a shudder go down his spine as he remembered the way the Troll had gone transparent and nearly succumbed to death. But then he thought about what the magenta Troll said. Velvet being that sister she once was? It would be wonderful. “I guess she's been a diva for so long, I never thought it'd be possible for her to change…”

“It is,” Floyd assured with a smile. “It really is.”

Suddenly, a ping resounded, and he looked down at the bracelet on his wrist and gasped. “Oh! I promised my brothers I’d be only fifteen minutes. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have even let me come. They’re outside waiting for me. I’m sorry.”

Veneer nodded. “It’s all right, I understand. You don’t have to apologize.”

“Thanks. It was nice talking to you,” Floyd said sincerely. “Ooo, and make sure you check the mail! The letter I sent should have arrived today.”

Veneer nodded again. “Oh! Okay, I will. And it was nice talking to you, too!”

Floyd smiled, and was about to head off, when Veneer stopped him. “Wait! I, um… do you have a quick second? I've been working on something… I was kinda hoping you might wanna hear it?”

As Floyd glanced at him expectantly, Veneer cleared his throat, suddenly second-guessing himself. What if he sounded awful? What if Floyd laughed at him? Regardless, he’d already stopped him, so he had to follow through. The song flowed out of him softly at first, his voice cracking a couple of times and making him inwardly cringe. But soon his voice became stronger, the notes rich and beautiful. When Veneer was done, he was met not only by applause from Floyd, but from the other inmates and recipients at the booths as well! He blushed as Floyd offered his compliments.

“That was great!”

“And I swear it was all me,” Veneer hurriedly explained. “No talent-stealing here!”

Floyd chuckled. “That’s good. You really do have some real talent.”

Veneer shrugged. “Guess I just had to work hard at it.”

Floyd gave him a thumbs up. “Right.” Then he turned to go. “I’ll see you around, Veneer.”

The Troll waved, and he waved back. A sense of uplifting filled Veneer. He was in slightly better spirits than he had anticipated himself to feel, and was glad for it. On his way back to the cell, he questioned the guard on any mail delivery for him, and true to Floyd’s word, one letter, sealed with the BroZone lightning emblem, was awaiting him.

Veneer didn’t waste a minute as he tore open the envelope and began to read:

Veneer,

It’s amazing how time passes by so quickly. I can hardly believe it’s already been a month’s time since the incident, of which I don’t believe you need me to mention for you to know what I’m talking about. But, I AM going to mention it anyhow, as it was an experience which has produced great effect. I also see this as an opportunity to debunk or confirm any assumptions you may have regarding me on the matter.

Spending two months encased within a small, and rather uncomfortable diamond imprisonment was, to put it bluntly, an awful experience for me to have undergone, as I’m sure you can imagine. I can’t lie there, or try to sugarcoat anything. Matters were not helped when you were under the impression that this was a necessary thing to do. But shortcuts can sometimes be more ‘cut’ than ‘short,’ as came to be you and your sister’s case. But this is not to say that cuts can’t heal. With time and learning they can, and from there, things are bound to get better.

In the same manner that everyone deserves to be treated kindly, everyone also deserves a second chance. I can’t say that the first impression you left of me was a good one, but have an inkling that my sentiments will change in the near future. Know that you are forgiven for your actions, so long as you understand where your mistakes were, and so long as you have learned from it. I know I can’t make you heed to any advice that I or anybody else may give you, though I strongly recommend taking it, for your own benefit.

I have been on my way to recovery from everything, and am living with my brothers. If you are interested, I can speak to the prison management team and see if we could get you work release at my older brother’s cantina. It’s on a beautiful little island that I think you will find quite becoming (plus, it has a karaoke stage!)

By this point, I would imagine that we would have already spoken to each other, and, should the conversation have gone the way I envisioned, I believe that we can likely look forward to speaking again.

Your friend,

Floyd

P.S. If you choose to respond to this letter, send it out attached with the postcard in the envelope. Trust me, it will get there :)

Veneer wondered what he meant by that last part, and soon understood when he pulled out the said postcard - with no return address or sender information. But, he shrugged it off. If Floyd had said it would get there, then surely it would get there! And so, Veneer got to work composing a return letter, finishing it with just a few seconds to spare before lights out. The letter looked something like this:

Floyd,

It was unexpected seeing you today. If I was in your place, I would have just moved on with my life and not looked back - especially at the guys who captured me. I want you to know that I am very, VERY sorry for what I did to you and regret it very much. You can take my word that I will never do something like that again to anybody. I was too afraid to say anything about it to my sister before, but now she knows where I stand on this. I hope you’re right and that she will come around one day…

I’m glad to hear that you are recovering and hope that you continue to regain your health. I think that work release idea sounds great! (Although, I’ve never been to an island before… do you mind telling me a little bit about what it’s like?)

I was afraid to talk to you at first, but I actually did like the turnout of it and, if you have any time to spare in the future, I really would like for us to talk again!

Sincerely,

Veneer

P.S. Gonna try and have the full version of that song ready by the time you come back :)

I think it perhaps would have played out a little something like this 🙂:

Between a Rock and a Hard Place (a Trolls fanfic)

“AAAHHHHHHH!”

The scream startled Branch and Poppy, the pair of them taken aback by the sight of their friend, Biggie, frantically scurrying through the crowd of Trolls in the Village’s clearing. The cause of his fear was made apparent when the Trolls noticed a fuzzy, bat-like creature zipping along right behind him, flapping its leathery, black wings persistently, her bugged red eyes fixed unwaveringly on him.

“Help!” Biggie cried out in desperation. “I’m being harangued by a monster!”

Giving up trying to outrun it, the big blue Troll crouched down and put his hands over his head, hoping it would perhaps go away. But, it didn’t. The creature beat its wings against him and made angry hissing sounds.

“Someone stop it!” he whimpered helplessly.

Luckily, as he’d wished, it was right at that moment that a shock of magenta hair whipped out and snatched the creature from the air. Relief passed through the Trolls, until they realized that it was not the Pop Queen who had grabbed the critter. In fact, it was nobody that the village knew.

But - standing there in the clearing donning black shorts with a large belt buckle, and a simple, black, pearl earring - the Troll seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“Gotcha! Okay, shhh, shh… Now calm down,... who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl…”

The batty creature struggled in the newcomer’s grasp for a second, not appreciating being held steadfast, but quickly was soothed as the Troll rubbed its furry little belly and spoke hushedly. Pretty soon, its flapping had stopped entirely and purred, the vibration rumbling against his teal hand.

Once the others could sense no more imminent danger, they began to gather a little closer, whispering among themselves.

“Who is that?” Legsly asked, pointing at the new Troll. “And what is that thing he’s holding?” she added, referring to the critter.

“It’s creepy!” Cooper shuddered, shielding his eyes from the creature.

“It’s scary!” Satin and Chenille chimed at the same time.

“And… naAaAAasty,” Guy Diamond yelped in his techno-like voice.

“Hold me, Daddy!” Tiny Diamond whimpered in his deep voice, letting his father clutch him close for protection.

Suddenly realizing that all the attention had gone to him, the newcomer shrunk under everybody’s gaze, bashfully tucking his head down between his shoulders and allowing his magenta bangs to fall over his face, so that it shielded his left eye.

Branch’s eyes narrowed at him, though he could feel that his gaze was not as intense as he would’ve liked for it to be. Reason being, there was something strangely familiar about this Troll. What it was, though, he couldn’t pinpoint right away. That hair, that voice… he could’ve sworn he’d seen and heard it, if long ago in his memory.

As it turned out, it wasn’t a much different situation for the new Troll, either. He looked at him curiously, mirroring Branch by slightly tilting his head and narrowing his eyes, as if there too was something he was trying to figure out. It was only when he shifted his gaze down to the leafy green vest Branch was wearing that things clicked. Recognition seemed to flash across his face in an instant, the magenta-haired Troll lifting his eyes to meet Branch’s and looking as though he were about to say something. But before he could…

“‘To Queen Poppy’?” Poppy read aloud from a scroll that the creature had dropped on the ground. She was confused to see her name written on it, and continued to read. “’Barb, Queen of Rock, announces her One Nation of Trolls Under Rock World Tour. Bring your string to the biggest party in the world has ever seen.’” Poppy beamed. “Oh, don’t worry everyone. It’s an invitation!”

The Trolls chattered excitedly. A party? With games and presents and glitter galore? That sounded like fun!

“But why does she need our string?” Cooper questioned.

“And what does ‘Queen of Rock’ mean? Who is she?” Poppy asked aloud.

“You don’t wanna know.”

Poppy whirled around to face the newcomer, his silence having her almost forget entirely that he was even there. “Trust me,” he said again, “you don’t.”

The Pop Queen was startled to hear such a thing. “But… it’s a party!” she exclaimed.

“Not the kind you wanna go to,” the Troll replied without hesitation. “Not with what the Hard Rockers have planned…”

Poppy shook her head. “But who are they?”

“Nobody!” King Peppy shouted, hurrying into the crowd of Trolls, sidling up to his daughter’s side and tearing the invitation from her hand. He proceeded to crumble it in a frenzy, all while crying out hysterically. “Nobody saw anything! Nothing to see here!” He then turned to the magenta-haired Troll and began to shove him away. “Young man, go back to where you came from! Now, please!”

“Whoa, whoa, Dad!” Poppy called, touching her father on the shoulder. He yelped, jolting and looking at her wildly. Popy was baffled. Her Dad was kicking out a Troll? What in the world for? She took his hands in hers in and spoke soothingly to calm him. “Dad, what’s going on?”

King Peppy gazed deeply into her eyes for a moment, peering between her and the new Troll, and then sighed.

“Oh, Poppy,” he moaned, “I’ve long feared this day would come. I was hoping to protect you from this.”

Poppy raised an eyebrow. “Protect me?” she asked. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Dad. I’m the queen now.”

“You’re right,” King Peppy agreed, nodding slowly. “The truth is… we are not alone in this world…”

Mr. Dinkles made a spooky sound to accompany King Peppy’s explanation. Biggie stuck a finger in his pet form’s round mouth.

“Shhh!” Biggie said to his little friend.

“You see, there are other kinds of Trolls,” King Peppy told everyone. The Trolls around him were silent for a moment, taking this in. Other Trolls? What did King Peppy mean?”

“Wow, really?” Poppy said enthusiastically. “Dad, that’s great! The more Trolls, the merrier!”

The newcomer scoffed. “If only it were that easy,” he mumbled.

King Peppy cut his eyes to him, frowning. “Young man, this conversation does not involve you. I’ve asked you to leave once… don’t make me have to call security!” He jerked a thumb over to where Smidge was standing, the little Troll cracking her knuckles in anticipation of a potential scuffle.

The Troll gulped at the sight, and quickly stammered an explanation. “N-no! Please, I’m not here to cause trouble. I came here to help you guys.”

But when Peppy did not relax, and Poppy began to show signs of discomfort at the confrontation, Branch stepped in to enforce the matter.

“You heard him,” he stated simply, but with a hardness to his voice that spoke more volumes alongside the clenched fists at his side.

“I know,” he replied. “But I can’t just leave you guys in danger, Branch.”

“We’re more than capable of taking care of our - Wait, what?” Branch blinked, surprised to hear this stranger call him by name. How did he know who he was?

The Troll offered a gentle smile. “It’s been a while, bro.”

The blue Troll gasped, realizing exactly who this was and being unable to believe it. All the years he waited and waited, until he couldn't anymore, and now he was back? He could almost feel tears pooling in his eyes as a mix of conflicting emotions assaulted him.

Poppy saw the strong reaction coming from her friend, and cautiously spoke to the newcomer.

“I’m sorry... Who did you say you were, again?”

The newcomer let out a breath he was holding, tucked the bat creature under one arm and extended his other to Poppy to properly introduce himself.

“Forgive me for not doing this sooner. My name is Floyd,” he said, “and I’m Branch’s brother.”

__________________________________________

With the manner in which the Trolls in the clearing had erupted into a cacophony of noise - a mix of questions about the Troll-turned-sibling, panic-stricken worries over the idea of the existence of other strange Trolls, and even outright screaming - it came as no surprise that Peppy had ordered for them to break into a smaller group, to allow for a little more privacy.

It was here in the beautiful secluded grotto in the company of just Floyd, Poppy,  Branch, and the Snack Pack that King Peppy wove a tale unlike any other that had been heard. A story of six Tribes of Trolls, each uniquely defined by their special taste in music - Techno, Funk, Classical, Country, Rock, and Pop - and how harmony had been created as a result of it. The harmony, however, was not meant to last. Intolerance sprouted like weeds, leading to discord, leading to the ultimate separation of each tribe. But perhaps the most striking part of the tale was the revelation of their own string - the Pop string, a gorgeous pink in color and producing an equally gorgeous sound, housing the very lifeforce that made them them - the toe-tapping, finger-snapping, rump-shaking Trolls they were.

“Ohh, I get it,” Poppy murmured, “Queen Barb wants to reunite the strings so that the Trolls Kingdom can be one big party again!” The Pop Queen grinned a little. She liked the sound of that!

But Floyd shook his head. “Um, no,” he disagreed gently. “Barb has no interest whatsoever in uniting the world. She wants to destroy it. And she’s going to do it one tribe at a time until there’s none left!” He picked up the invite from where it lay (a little wrinkled, but still legible) next to the ancient scroll that King Peppy had used to depict the tale. “These invitations were just the first step. A deception. And anyone who doesn’t give up their string is going to have it taken by force.” He looked at the bat critter in his hands and sighed. “I tried to stop the invite from even reaching you guys, but I guess I wasn’t fast enough to keep up with Debbie here…”

Poppy was stunned. “B-but… why would another queen use her power for evil? Didn’t anyone try to stop her?”

“The Hard Rockers are all on board,” Floyd explained. “She managed to convince everyone that this was the best thing to do for her people. They all believed her. Well, um… except for me. But then again, I was never a true Rock Troll from the start…”

Poppy snapped her fingers. “That’s riiiight… and that’s something else I’m not understanding…” She turned on her friend. “Branch! How come you never told me you have a secret brother?!”

The blue Troll frowned. “What’s there to tell? I have no brothers.”

Floyd was confused. “Branch, what are you talking about? Just take a look at us…”

It was true. Even by sight, there was a very distinct similarity between the two of them, from their teal skin, purple noses, round face shapes, and even slight downward curve of their ears.

But Branch crossed his arms defiantly. “I have no brothers,” he said again, emphasizing each syllable, “because the day you walked out on me, you lost the chance to ever call me that again.” 

“Branch, please, believe me, I was going to come back, it’s just - “

“Just what?” Branch cut in, scoffing. “You’re a liar. You never followed through with your promise.”

Floyd fiddled with his fingers. “Well, um, I mean, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Uh-huh… twenty years TOO LATE!” Branch turned to the others in the grotto. “Why should we believe someone like this? For all we know, he could be a spy for these ‘Hard Rock’ Trolls!” He searched his friends’ faces. Silently taking it all in, Biggie, Smidge, Cooper, Guy Diamond, and Legsly were a mixture of uncertainty and concern, not sure what to make of it.

King Peppy spoke up for them. “Branch,” he said gently, “I certainly see where you’re coming from. But… are you willing to put our tribe in danger because of it?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it’s a risk I’m not willing to take.” He then waved to the Trolls. “Hurry now! We must prepare before Barb arrives! We’ve got no time to lose!”

“Dad, wait!” Poppy cried, trying to stop her him and her friends as they shuffled off. “Guys, come on! Just because they’re different doesn’t mean that the solution is fighting! Branch, help me out here, say something!”

Branch marched right by her. “Wait for me!” he called out. But as he scurried by, he was grabbed by the arm.

“Branch, wait,” Floyd pleaded. Then he turned to Poppy. “Could you, uh… give us a minute?” he asked politely.

Branch wanted to protest, but he groaned, and did not put up a fight. “I’ll meet you in a second, Poppy,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh! Um, okay…” She trudged off, sparing one last glance at them before heading off in the direction her father had gone. The two boys were left there in an awkward, tense silence.

Floyd broke it first, clearing his throat. “Wow… you’ve really grown into that vest of mine. You’re… a man now.”

Branch kept his back turned to him as he answered tersely. “Just goes to show how long it’s been.”

Floyd sighed. “Look, Branch, I know that nothing I can say is a valid enough excuse for what happened. I guess I just got so caught up with my solo career once the Rock Trolls took me in. But I swear that there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about you.” He chuckled for a second. “Remember how we used to make up songs and dances? It was a lot of fun.”

It was, Branch recalled, almost wanting to smile, but he composed himself. “That’s all in the past,” he said coldly, turning to look him right in the eye. “And besides, actions speak louder than words. And the fact is that you never came back.”

Branch felt a tug at his heart when Floyd winced, hurt by his words. But then again, they were words of truth.

“You’re right,” Floyd said, “Actions do speak louder than words. And here I am now, trying to save my little brother from something that I know for sure is going to harm him. Because I want him to be safe. It was a mistake to leave him the first time. And I don’t want to lose him again.”

Branch felt himself loosening. He wanted to keep up the wall of ice he built around himself should any of his brothers try to come back into his life. But not even those walls were immune to the warmth of Floyd’s kindness. “I really want to believe you, Floyd,” he whispered, “I just don’t know if I can…”

“Then let's just take things one step at a time, okay?” And when Branch nodded, Floyd took the opportunity to extend his arms out, allowing Branch to decide whether he wanted to make a move or not.

It didn’t take long to come to that decision, though. Branch embraced Floyd in a replica of that very same night that he had left him. He squeezed tightly, wanting to confirm his physical presence, and afraid to let go should he have been a mirage this entire time.

“Awww…”

The pair broke apart, finding Poppy cooing at the scene. She grinned sheepishly upon realizing she’d intruded on the private moment.

“Oh! I’m sorry…”

“It’s all right, Poppy,” Branch assured. “We’re just about done here.”

“Oh, good,” she breathed in relief. “Well, I mean, because, I wanted to talk to you guys about Barb. We’ve gotta stop her!”

“Can’t say I disagree with the endgoal here, but the trouble comes in the ‘how,’” Floyd pointed out.

“Well, we can think about it as we get everyone safely hidden away in the bunker,” Branch said, waving them to follow.

“Bunker?” Floyd asked, coming up alongside his brother.

“Oh, it’s the coolest thing ever!” Poppy gushed. “It’s underground, and it’s got all these tunnels and rooms, and trapdoors, and… and so much cool stuff!”

Floyd beamed. “Wow, so you built the hideout, huh? I’m proud of you, Branch.”

“Hideout?” The Pop Queen echoed, curious.

There was a hint of a bashful blush in the blue Troll’s cheeks as he shrugged in reply. “Heh, well, it’s not that big of a deal…”

“Of course it is,” Floyd countered, bumping his elbow against his. “Did you even add the ten-story waterslide?”

Poppy gasped. “A waterslide in the bunker? That sounds amazing!”

But Branch shook his head. “Nah.”

“But then, how do you shower?”