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ninja-go-to-therapy · 1 day ago

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You Can Relax, My Friend

@badthingshappenbingo

ao3

Prompt: Lotus-Eater Machine

Fandom: Trolls (Dreamworks)

Character: Branch

Trigger Warnings: self hatred, identity crisis

title from Open Arms (epic the musical)

1455 words

“This has been one productive detour,” Poppy said with a giggle, high-fiving Smidge.

It had been a day since they’d landed on the island, and Branch was still in worry-free mode. It was nice to see him relaxing, for once. He deserved it more than anyone.

However, it had been long enough that detour was beginning to turn into totally-not-stranded, and the group was struggling to come up with ideas.

Now that Branch was so worry-free, he’d abandoned the half-built boat entirely. With the wormhole so high in the air, it would take some thinking to get up there.

Not that she wanted to promote paranoid thinking back into her friend, but it would be nice if he could at least get back to work on that boat.

“Hey, Branch?” Poppy called out, finding him lounging on a hammock between palm trees.

Without even opening his eyes, he sing-songedly reminded her: “it’s Frond~”

“Oh, right!” She nodded, smoothing out her dress as she rocked back and forth on her feet. “Right… so anyway, the others and I are working on a way back home. We were hoping you could help us out with that boat…?”

“Home?” He echoed, finally lifting up his sunglasses and fixing her with a vacant, pleasant smile on his face. It was tinted with confusion. “Whatever do you mean, Poppy?”

She laughed awkwardly. “I mean… it’s not like we can stay here forever. We have to go back to the village at some point.”

Branch — er… Frond — sighed wistfully, a million miles away. “Do we really?” He asked, relaxing back into the hammock. “It’s so perfect here…”

“Sure, it’s nice!” She agreed, “for a vacation, maybe. Not like… permanently.”

“But… the island is safe. The island provides, Poppy! Isn’t that so nice? Not having to worry about a thing?”

“I… I guess, yeah, but—”

“It gave you this,” he said, rolling out of his hammock, landing on his feet and taking her hands in his. “It gave you a version of me that you actually like.”

Something about that left her stomach rolling unpleasantly. She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as she searched his eyes for… what, she didn’t know. Something that showed her neurotic stickler of a best friend. She’d been thrilled to see him finally relaxed, but this was beginning to freak her out.

“I like regular old Branch just fine,” she huffed, offended at the judge of her character. “He’s my best friend.”

He scoffed, dropping her hands and turning away. “Yeah, well. You would have gotten tired of him eventually.”

“That’s not true and you know it! Just because you can be a little obsessive sometimes doesn’t mean I love you any less! I love you, Branch, flaws and all.”

“It’s Frond,” he snapped, hands balled into fists at his side. Gently, Poppy reached out a hand to place on his shoulder, but he jerked away, spinning to glare at her. It was the first time since he’d become Frond that he’d been the least bit hostile.

“You don’t need to change your whole identity just to take a vacation,” she said, clasping her paws together. “Why are you so insistent on this?”

“Because I am!” he yelled, fire in his eyes, “Because I have to be! Because Branch is an unloveable depressing freak! But Frond is — he’s actually good enough! He’s exactly what everyone wanted, he’s perfect!”

Her heart ached. She wanted to reach out, to hug him, but she knew he would only shrug her off again. “Is that what you think?” she asked softly.

“It’s what I know,” he sighed, hostility waning. He looked tired, and it was the closest to him that he seemed in the day they’d spent here.

He sat down in the sand, and when he didn’t protest, Poppy joined him.

“Everyone leaves eventually,” he said, staring out to sea. Poppy was focused solely on him.

“I won’t,” she said, the words tumbling out of her of their own volition. “I’d never.”

“Hm.” He was quiet for a moment, the two of them listening to the waves hitting the sand. It would have been peaceful, if Poppy wasn’t so weighed down with concern.

She wished she knew what to say. Usually she considered herself to be pretty good at comforting other trolls, but for once… she was at a loss. She had no idea how to fix this.

A smile tugged at Branch’s face. He huffed out a laugh.

Poppy turned to look at him, hopeful for a moment. Maybe this had all been some elaborate prank to teach her about being careful what you wished for? One thing was for certain, she’d never take her friends for granted ever again. She loved them all exactly as they were.

Unfortunately, that’s not what seemed to be happening right now.

Branch began to really laugh, a sound somehow unnatural.

This was getting past the point of unnerving. She’d even classify this as scaring her, by now. “B—Frond?” she prodded carefully. “What…?”

He almost doubled over, tears beginning to come from his eyes as he laughed. “I’m finally perfect,” he gasped through his cackling, “I’m finally — finally perfect and — and it still doesn’t matter because I ruined everything!” he cried, clutching his sides.

He took a few calming breaths as he leaned towards her, hands cupping her face. For whatever reason, there was a warmth tingling in her cheeks that almost reminded her of how she used to feel around Creek. The way he was looking at her felt intimate. It felt sacred.

“Don’t you get it?” He asked softly, tears streaming from his eyes. There was a thinly hidden devastation there, just below a layer of false humor. She’d never been able to say that a fellow troll laughing felt wrong to her, before. “This island… it’s perfect. Something about this place — it makes us better. Wasn’t that what you wanted? For me to be a better troll?”

Yes, but not like this. She just wanted him to grow. She wanted him to open up. To blossom like a flower. An adorably paranoid flower.

He let go of her face to gesture to himself, a massive grin across his face. “See! I did it! I’m finally normal! This island fixed me!” He stood up, and Poppy nearly tripped over herself to keep up. “We can stay here,” he was saying, “we’ve got each other, and our friends, and there’s plenty of food! And nothing is going to hurt us. Nothing is trying to eat us, or kill us, no one can leave me again!”

Poppy finally began to clock what it was about him smiling that had her so on edge. He looked manic.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he admitted quietly. She wished she could share the sentiment. “I mean, look around. It’s a beautiful place. We can build shelter if you really want — not that we need it. But every day can be singing, and dancing, and hugging! Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

It might have, at some point. Under any other circumstance. If her best friend wasn’t sobbing and laughing at the same time, maybe.

“Poppy?” Called DJ from a bit further down the beach, startling the queen out of her spiraling, confusing thoughts. “Did you fix Branch, yet?”

And something about that just sent him right back into a laughing fit. “Why would you want him?” He asked, “that obsessive freak? He’s just like him!” He screamed his laughter, and the tears were returning. Poppy didn’t know what to do. “Insisting on controlling every little thing. God, I hate him so much!”

DJ, who wasn’t all that close to the pair, stopped in her approach. “Kay, I’m just gonna… oh, what’s that Smidge?” She took off back in the other direction.

Great.

“Who do you…?” She could hardly bring herself to say the words. Trolls didn’t really do hate. At least not when it came to other trolls. Things had to be… seriously extreme for that word to be thrown around.

“I hate him,” he repeated, cackling, “he was supposed to be better and all he turned out to be was a freakish little clone.”

He was usually the one grounding her. She didn’t know how to go about grounding him! This was all wrong and — and she wished they’d never found this cursed island in the first place! She wanted her best friend back! She wanted him to stop crying! How could he cry when she didn’t know how to fix it?

“Guys!” Came a frantic shout from where DJ had previously retreated. This time it was Smidge running up the dune. “Oh my guh, there’s a huge storm coming in! We need to leave ASAP!”

Oh, no.

#reblog #trolls #dw trolls

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ninja-go-to-therapy · 1 day ago

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I Work Hard to Make This Treehouse a Treehome

kinda crack but kinda angst idk ive had this in the drafts for 7 months and just finished it rn so

ao3

Summary: Branch and Archer get high and bond over their complicated relationships with their shitty brothers.

2125 words

The adrenaline was leaving his system.

The last three days had been nonstop insanity, from the very moment John Dory crashed the wedding. Even before that, preparations for said wedding had been an intense affair.

Branch was exhausted, and the adrenaline couldn’t keep him going anymore.

It couldn’t keep him pumped up anymore, either.

For a good portion of the adventure, Branch had almost been excited. His brothers were finally back in his life, and he actually wanted them there. He wanted to be a family again, and he was actually getting his wish.

He thought it was what he wanted. But now things had calmed down, and his brothers were in the bunker, and he felt like there were fire ants under his skin.

He thought he wanted them here. Nothing had happened to make him change his mind, but he just… he just couldn’t handle this.

He couldn’t handle Bruce casually making a pot of coffee. He couldn’t handle Clay’s appreciation of his home. He couldn’t handle Floyd’s exhausted smiles, and he sure as hell couldn’t handle John Dory’s… everything.

Everything they did only irritated him further. Every kind word, every appreciative hum. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw a tantrum like he was a trolling again, rolling on the floor and lashing out at anyone who got in the way.

Of course, that would only further their teasing of him. As much as Branch reminded them that he was a grown up (because they’d missed his childhood, they’d abandoned him and they’d missed it, and they couldn’t just come back and pretend he was the same little kid they’d left), they didn’t stop. Not really. Floyd was the only one who didn’t particularly tease him, and somehow that frustrated him too.

Everything they did. Everything they didn’t do. He didn’t know why, but his wire was fraying, and he was terrified that he would snap at any second.

He couldn’t handle this.

He wanted them out. He wanted them to leave again, to go back to their stupid lives without him, he wanted them to hate themselves forever for what they’d done.

He wanted to hate them.

It was all too much, it was all so confusing. He didn’t know how to handle all of this.

His first thought: talk to Poppy. His second: no, she’d only tell him to work things out by communicating. He didn’t want to communicate. He wanted to rot somewhere where nobody would question him, or tease him, or do nothing but exist and still manage to get him wound up.

He loved Poppy more than anything, but he was worried that if he saw her right now, he’d only blow up at her, too. He needed to get out. He needed to distance himself from all of this until he could clear his head.

But the bunker was his only safe space. He couldn’t go to any of his friends — they meant well, but he worried they’d be too much for him right now, too. Not to mention that his friends were Poppy’s friends, and they’d never be able to lie to her.

He didn’t want to lie to her. He just… needed some time alone.

Where could he go that she wouldn’t immediately find him? Where could he go that he wouldn’t be questioned or judged?

It wasn’t like anyone else in the village could possibly understand something like this.

He mulled that over for a moment, because actually… there just might be someone.

It only took a minute or two after knocking on the door of Archer Pastry’s house — built in the base of a tree trunk — for it to swing open. He was wearing his usual spiked vest, which looked a little less intimidating with the pins and patches that the village had gifted him after he'd officially become a citizen. He was fairly certain at least half of them were from Poppy.

“Uh… hey?” Archer offered, giving him a confused look. Branch couldn’t blame him. While they were friends, they weren’t really the… hang out one-on-one, seek each other out specifically kind of friends. Archer, much like Branch, preferred to take things at his own speed, more the type to lurk at the edge of a party than join in on the dance floor.

He was probably the only person Branch could handle seeing right now that wouldn’t make him snap completely.

“Hey,” he parroted, awkwardly waving. He was starting to regret this already. It was weird to show up like this! They weren’t that close! And yet his feet were rooted to the forest floor. He wasn’t going anywhere. He certainly wasn’t going back to the bunker. “Can I um… can I come in?”

Archer’s body blocked the doorway, but he moved back, stiffly granting Branch access to his home. He’d never actually been here. Archer, though an honorary troll, was a bit similar to him. They both valued their privacy quite a bit.

“So is everything… okay?” Archer asked, not quite making eye contact, which was perfectly fine with him.

“I just…” he sighed. “I needed somewhere to go for — I dunno. Maybe a few hours or a few…” his chest seized. “I needed somewhere to go.”

“And you came to me instead of Poppy?” He asked, one eyebrow raised as he led his impromptu guest to the couch.

Branch shrugged helplessly.

“Eh, okay. I mean, I didn’t really have any plans today other than like… lazing around, so. Er… did you wanna, like… talk about it?” He looked uncomfortable at the idea, his face wrinkled in distaste.

He shook his head, and Archer sighed in relief. “Oh, good. I’m not really good with all this… mushy gushy stuff you trolls are so fond of.”

Branch chuckled somewhat. “You and me both. That’s… kind of why I’m here? Poppy would just tell me it’s okay to have feelings or something. Which, you know, is great and all, but not really what I’m looking for right now.”

His host nodded. “Yeah, that girl can be a lot.” A beat passed. “So, anyway… bathroom is that door there, and uh… help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen? Except the brownies. Don’t — don’t touch the brownies.” He slapped his knees, standing up. “Cool, well… I’m gonna go back to bed. If you need anything just… guess.”

“Guess?” he asked, a bit put off by the idea of looking through another person’s home.

“‘s not like I have any personal shit,” he shrugged. “I’ll wake back up in an hour or two… probably. Goodnight.”

It was quite definitely not nighttime, but Branch wasn’t in a position to judge. In fact, being all alone in a nice, quiet place was exactly what he needed right about now.

He got comfortable on the couch, closing his eyes and taking a few deep, calming breaths. He was starting to relax already.

About two hours later, Archer had woken up, and offered some of those brownies he’d mentioned before. Apparently they had some weird party crasher drug kind of like the weed trolls had, but Branch was curious enough to try one. They had been a bit stronger than he was anticipating.

“If your brother came back,” Branch said, gripping onto the side of the couch, as if he was unbalanced, “would you like… let him?”

Archer’s previously relaxed expression wrinkled into one of sour distaste. “Ugh, no way. I hate that guy… you know he helped me pick the name Kaboom, and then he wouldn’t even use it?”

“That is so older brother of him,” he grumbled, glaring at the floor. “Mine pretty much exclusively call me some variation of Bitty B.”

Archer blinked at him. “I didn’t know you had brothers.”

He fell to the side, wrapping himself around the arm-rest he was already clinging onto. “I didn’t,” he said, miserable and glassy-eyed. “They left me when I was a baby.” He sniffled, hugging the couch like it could possibly hug back.

Archer considered this for a moment before snapping lazily, pointing to his friend. “Kill them.”

Branch hiccuped a dry sob. “Can’t… just went on a life-endangering adventure to keep one of them from dying…”

“Oh, is that where you and Poppy disappeared to last week?”

He nodded, cheek scraping against the couch. “Floyd is the only one who said he’d come back,” he said miserably, “he swore he would. Twenty years later and I only see him again because someone else ropes me into a rescue mission for him. At least the others didn’t lie! I hate him but he just died — literally died in my arms — so I should just forgive him, right? That’s what the others would say…”

“I say this with all the love in my bitter little heart… the pop trolls have a bit of a toxic positivity problem sometimes.”

Branch looked at him in surprise.

“I mean, it could be worse. Then again, the several months I spent in that… “fungeon” made me want to rip my hair out. I don’t even have hair. Do you ever think about that? Like, how jealous would you be if other species could literally manipulate their hair and you don’t even have any…” he trailed off, seemingly remembering who he was talking to. “Oh, yeah. Anyways, just cause some guy died doesn’t mean you have to be nice to him.”

“He’s not just some guy,” he clarified, “he’s my brother.”

Archer stared at him in silence. “You have brothers?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

He thought for a moment. “I think you did… sorry, when I get high I’m kinda… you know.”

Branch nodded. “The floor is moving.”

“Sure bud. So your brothers suck, welcome to the club I guess.”

“I mean, they do. But they’re better, I think. I don’t know… I want them back in my life, I just… I want to scream when I look at them.”

Archer tipped his head back, resting on the edge of the couch. “Let it out, bro. What’s the damage?”

He couldn’t help himself from opening up. He explained the entire history of Brozone, and even his grandma and her death. Archer didn’t particularly react, and if Branch didn’t know any better, he’d almost think he was asleep. But every few minutes, he would nod, or make a little noise of acknowledgement without interrupting. It was nice.

“They don’t even want to be here,” he said once he’d finished explaining the Mount Rageous situation. “That whole argument… they all want to go back to their lives. Without me. But I threw a fit, and now they’re here. I think… I don’t think they would have done all of this if it had been me instead of Floyd.” he sniffled, tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks. “I hate them so much. But at the same time I just want — I just want my family back.”

“I really hope you’re not expecting me to have any advice, because we did literally… blow up my brother. So…”

“I wish I could blow up mine.”

“Do it,” he agreed with a flippant wave. “Super therapeutic.”

Branch groaned. “I can’t. I just want to punch them all in their stupid faces — but then they’ll leave. I want them gone, but I also really don’t. I hate this.”

“Have you tried yelling at them a bunch?”

“About what?”

“I dunno. Your feelings. If you can’t punch them with fists, punch them with guilt for ruining your life and not even coming back for you. At least they would probably feel bad about it.”

“Still can’t believe Bash had no remorse.”

“Bitch, you’re telling me! Lemme tell you about this one time…”

They sat there for a long time, exchanging stories back and forth. Branch didn’t even realize just how long they’d been talking until he glanced out the window, surprised to find it dark outside. He’d spent almost the whole day here!

“I should get home,” he said, standing from the couch and stretching, his back popping.

“Right,” Archer agreed, joining him on his feet and shuffling over to the door, swinging it open. Before Branch could leave, though, he stopped him one more time. “If you wanna like… come over again sometime… or something. That could be. Nice?” He looked away. “Sorry, I’m not really good at this whole… friends thing.”

Branch found himself actually smiling, which was a massive improvement from his mood this morning. “Well, from one loner to another, I think you’re doing pretty well for yourself. See you later?”

As he walked home, he knew that his issues with his brothers wouldn’t magically be resolved. But… he did feel a little lighter. And for now, that was enough.

#reblog #trolls #dw trolls

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ninja-go-to-therapy · 2 days ago