#trolls wolf!branch

[echosong-87]

Shadow Beast/Weretroll Branch

Hope ya like this design art work!!

I even made some earlier concept ideas

[sidegly]

Just watched trolls for the first time since 2016 with my friend and Branch is actually SO Theo Raeken coded?

[ruffruffrats]

[Breek] A wolf and bunny, one predator one prey~

[shipping-world1994]

Peter:We are really different.

Chris: So different.

Peter: Completely out of harmony.

Chris: Completely.

Peter: I don't even know why we're friends!

Chris: Neither do I!

[Chris starts to walk away, then hesitates]

Chris: [sadly] So... why do I care about you more than anybody else in the world? Weird, right?

[alishad123]

When Raven realized that Panna was in love with him but she didn't want to admit it.

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Fun fact: Panna and Raven's love story was inspired by my favorite anime from my childhood called Inuyasha and they were also inspired by Kovu and Kiara from The Lion King 2.

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Scene Reference by:

[3kk0-0]

RECENT ART DUMP

Troll sona redesign!!

Winx oc! I actually love him

Art for an oc I’m writing a fic for on my secret tumblr account (I don’t think it’s actually secret but that was fun to say\write-) PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT THEM PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[empressgeekt]

Chapter 2 is up! Hummm I wonder what that secret present was.

[and555trollsespecial]

This draw it was supposed to submitted in Valentine’s Day but I was occupied with my college stuff, however I had the chance to draw it the last end-weekend. Here’s a little compilation of my favorite couple characters (The 4th draw is a creation mine)

[clayzfaav]

kataow x trolls au 😜

Poppy is Kipo

Branch is Wolf

Cooper and Prince D are Asher and Dahlia

(also Wolf’s former pack is Brozone + Rosiepuff in this au)

[thetrollslover]

What if branch and mr wolf get along?

Now that I'm thinking about it, they probably would get along really well. That would make an awesome crossover too

[echosong-87]

Ok! This is a hitman!john dory themed design but with my own twist.

I watched puss in boots last wish… XD

JD is Death!! XD

This was inspired by the Death character and of course the hitman!john dory au.

But I’ll keep it as Bounty Hunter John Dory or JD.

He goes by many names:

The Boss.

The Grim Reaper.

Death.

And The Soul Taker.

In the AU… after leaving the troll tree… but JD did sorta helped Spruce/Bruce out of the tree even tho he and Bruce were angry at each other…. It was still the last nicest thing he could do for Bruce… and it’s a sorta “I’m sorry” touch from KD to Bruce… but both kiddos are stubborn and angry to notice.

I am the eldest out of three… even tho I get into fights with my siblings I still have to watch out for them… for that is my job/responsibility… plus I loved them enough to help them no matter how much they anger/annoy me off.

JD found work after roaming around the everglade mountains/forests… and became a natural survivalist.

He took in work as a bounty hunter… and thought it was an honest job/work because even tho he fought his little brothers he was still wanting a way to provide for them while staying from afar.

But after a while of working with this shady empolyer and found out that he wasn’t DOING good… but bad!

John did tried to leave there and was caught… badly wounded he lived but was now at a race against time to find his little brothers before his former tyrant could… if he doesn’t they be all killed.

[lamafuntrolls]

This is seaweed,the aqua tasu king,I tried doing him for the first time whit my new eye style,I could also practice the mermaid tails(I love how the tail turned out)

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Estrella Damm: don't drink and run

Contents: general dumbassery, cursing, slight sexual language, violence, lots of cursing, wrote this high so idk if this even makes sense, I'll reread it and let you know whether its bs lol

It’s the same scene again. 

Three guys are circling you, laughing so irritatingly, and you’re just sitting there, doing your very best to shrug them off. The park is empty, it usually is at 3pm and especially these days with the nippy weather. Whenever Gojo strolls along the place to get to campus, he sees you resting on a bench, watching the tree branches sway above the pond. 

You’re hard to miss. 

A mass of black like an omen amongst the peace of nature, a blob of ink on a Monet, and he sees you everywhere. It’s funny, he thinks, how prior to the announcement of the engagement during the summer, he had never seen you on campus before. 

He can’t fathom how it was possible that he missed you. You stand out so badly, all eyes are on you everywhere you go. What with your lace frocks, thick platform boots, and terrifying piercings. 

You’re rolling your eyes at the lanky guy in front of you, thin lips curling over yellow teeth to snarl insipid insults that the other two chortle at. You just wanted a peaceful break in between your lectures, to take in the fresh autumn air, and watch people pass. But then again the universe has never really liked you. That became abundantly clear when your parents threw the news at you.

Was Nietzsche right?

So now you’re stuck watching disgusting idiots pick up a layer of your dress, mocking the fabric as if it’s something cheap. Little do they know.

“Where’s the funeral, hot stuff?”

You cringe. It’s the repulsive roll of his tongue, the way he flashes you a grin as if he’s such a catch and you should be happy he’s giving you any kind of attention. He probably thinks of himself as something akin to a wolf, wild and feral in the sexiest way, but from where you’re sitting, he more closely resembles a rabid hyena, slobbering all over itself. 

His breath surely smells like it too. 

Exasperated, you stand, snatching your dress from their grimy hands and sneer, “Don’t touch me, you ugly trolls.”

They don’t like that. 

Just as you’re stepping away, someone grabs your hair with a harsh pull and you gasp, tears brimming in your eyes from the burn on your scalp. Whoever has your hair drags you back to him, his face too close to yours, and you can see every pore, every hair, and you resist the urge to gag at the feeling of his breath skimming your skin. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you prissy little pri—“ 

Before he can finish his sentence, a hand is gripping his wrist, wrestling it back at an awkward angle, forcing his body to follow suit. He yelps and you stumble back on the bench, rubbing at your head. 

Your heartbeat is galloping like crazy, air robbed from your lungs and you’re rearing back to see a white-haired man looming over all of you with a menacing grin.

Gojo looks terrifying. 

A shiver claws up your spine, fear prickling your skin, and it feels as if the park had just become colder, dropping into the negatives. There’s something devoid of light in his eyes and it knocks you off balance. You’re dazed and his withering look full of disdain and contempt isn’t even targeted towards you.

"You guys again?"

The sheer revulsion, the abhorrence and loathing seeping through his words creates a flurry of shame through you all. You see it in the flush that reddens one’s guys face, and in the deep gulp the second one makes. It’s as if you’ve committed a fundamental wrong, like the whole affair was an abomination that he had happened to stumble upon.

He’s still twisting the guy’s arm back and ignoring the broken moans coming from him, choosing instead to direct his ice cold stare at the other two guys. They stand uneasily, glancing between each other as if deciding what to do. Seeing the resolve in the newcomer’s eyes, and the promise of pain, they grab at their friend and hastily walk away, not sparing a glance back. 

Not even at you, like you were never there to begin with. 

Huffing, you stand up, brushing imaginary dirt from the skirt of your dress and muttering a reluctant ‘thanks’ to Gojo. He’s studying you, sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge so he can look at you over them. 

What kind of idiot wears sunglasses when there's no sun?

He doesn’t say a word and you begin to feel uncertain. 

The man before you is a mystery. You don’t know what he’s thinking. One minute he hates you and has declared you public enemy number one and the next he’s defending you from slimy perverts.

What is wrong with him?

Sure, you’re glad he didn’t just leave you to fend for yourself but you also wish he just left as soon as he came so you wouldn't have to deal with the awkward aftermath. Now, you’re left staring at him waiting for a stupid comment to come. 

But it doesn’t. 

“Got something to say?”

Your voice is snarky, but wavers just ever so slightly, the effects of the shock still coursing your veins. Gojo doesn’t flinch, he just shrugs and gives you one final look over, before he’s stalking off, long legs carrying him away like he was just strolling past to begin with. 

One step for him is like three for you. 

You begin walking too. And you scowl when he looks back at you over his shoulder, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, swinging his crazy long legs like a giraffe.

Why does he walk like that?

“You following me?” 

His tone is so disgustingly arrogant you feel a sudden urge to whack him over the head with your boots. But you don’t. Because your boots are limited edition and much too pretty to scuff up with his ugly face.

Not to mention your parents would kill you, and so would his, probably. And maybe even the entire campus. 

Because according to the 'Bulletin' and this so called ‘List’ Gojo introduced you to, your fiancé is apparently the most beloved man in EdenU. Known for being friendly, approachable, charitable and charismatic, everyone either wants to be friends with Gojo, date Gojo or be Gojo. 

Having read every single piece written by some girl with poor tastes in men, clearly, you realise that there must be something wrong with the entire student population-- and even the staff, if the blushing some lecturers do when he passes is anything to go by. There are direct quotes from people detailing first-hand experiences with Gojo’s ‘kindness’, with how he took the time out of his day to give directions, helped an old lady cross the street, claps at the end of lectures as an expression of gratitude.

Classic bourgeoisie propaganda.

How could anyone consider him as a) a good guy, and b) a hot one?

That question has been bothering you for about a week now. And it continues to do so as he looks at you like you're bothering him.

You speed walk, pumping your legs as hard as you can so you can glide by him. Who’s following who now?

It’s petty, you know that. But for whatever reason, the guy just brings out that bitter child inside of you, the one that wants to be mean, to spit back as good as you get, and to put him in his place. 

Because clearly, the campus gossip has gotten to his head. 

You hear him scoff before he starts speed-walking beside you. It looks effortless on him. What a prick. 

His jacket brushes against you and you recoil, aghast that his bacteria touched you. With a new wave of determination, you begin jogging. It’s the most exercise you’ve gotten in years but it’s so worth it to see him jog as well. 

“Give it up, I’m way faster than you.”

Wordlessly, you jog a little faster every time he does.

“Surprised to see you sober enough to walk in a park,” you voiced with a taunting tone.

Gojo retorts, just as quick, “And I’m surprised you’re out in broad daylight.”

Dodging fallen branches and puddles, you leap and clutch your dress, lifting the thick skirt so your legs can push and push. There is no way you'll lose to the likes of him. You just need to reach the park edge, where grass meets concrete, and once you pass it, you'll claim victory.

Huffing, you barb, “I’m sure you like the weather just fine, right, Periwinkle?”

He snorts. “That must make you Vidia.”

“She’s hot so I’ll take that.”

Throwing you a side glance, he rolls his eyes and maintained, with a singsong voice, “Silvermist is hotter.”

Eventually, you’re both running through the park, overtaking each other in a give and take, and you grin every time you get the best of him by cutting corners. You know this park like the back of your hand. The cool wind doesn’t even register on your skin, adrenaline urging you forward, winding along the path and dodging bystanders who look on with half confusion and half amusement. 

This is probably the most excitement this park has seen in years.

Gojo doesn’t seem the least bit embarrassed. 

"Move, you're in my way, Eric Draven," he jab, not even slightly breath.

You sneer.

"No, you're in my way, Johnny Bravo."

You screech when a sudden force knocks you into a hedge. Sharp twigs poke at you, you struggle to gain footing against the mud, and you flail your arms. Your hair is caught, so is the lace of your dress, like a moth trapped in a spiderweb.

The motherfucker shoved you.

He actually shoved you.

Gojo's staring, with his mouth gaping, at his hand and then at you and then back to his hand, like he didn't mean to push you, like his body just moved on its own. And you see him take a step, hands stretching out to reach for you.

The fucking dick is so childish you don’t feel any guilt when you grab him by his jacket and yank. He falls with laugh like he had been anticipating your revenge, a light and airy sort of chortle, so childlike and youthful it almost makes you smile. Almost, because then you're both going quiet when he lands on top of you. 

That wasn't very well thought out.

You’re both angled slightly back on the thick hedge, so out of breath, the tiny branches prick at you both, leaves no doubt catching on your dress. Gojo’s holding his body weight, trying to find his footing on the wet grass but struggling to press his hands on anywhere concrete. Your legs are tangled, hips pinned to each other, and your hands are clinging to his jacket so you don’t fall deeper. 

“Woah,” he breathes out, panting slightly, “you want me this badly?”

Your frown deepens until you’re sure your lips will stay stuck in that position. He really just can’t help himself. It’s like it’s in his DNA to say something stupidly arrogant just to avoid the silence. With a grunt, you try to push him off you, feet kicking. The fucker is heavy. And he doesn’t even look like he’s trying. 

Gojo smells clean and you hate it. He smells like fresh laundry and sea salt and fluffy clouds. With every movement you make against each other, you become more aware of his broad shoulders and narrow hips. It’s like he’s got a sleeper build. His chest is firm beneath your palms and  your face is buried in his neck, feeling his Adam’s apple bob. 

“Move, fat ass,” you say through gritted teeth. 

He makes a sound of indignation, “Fat ass? Me? How dare you! I don't calorie count for nothing.”

Always fucking joking, the little shit.

You shove at his chest. “Move, Gojo, I swear to God.”

"Yeah, yeah. I'm trying," he huffs and puffs, clambering away, and then he adds, like he just cannot fucking help himself, "Siouxsie Sioux."

With awkward shuffles and uncomfortable twists and turns, you both manage to free yourselves. There’s a blush on both of your faces, yours is certainly from anger, raging at the sudden turn of events and the sheer humiliation at falling, and ashamed that you had stooped to his level and raced him, like a toddler. 

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You were raised better. For goodness sake, your mother would keel over and die if she saw you sprinting in a park, almost pushing an old lady out of the way just to beat your fiancé. God, you hate calling him that.

And you hate to admit even more that you might have actually enjoyed it.

Catharsis, that’s all it was.

Just a physical and mental need to let out the pressure building up from months of the most restrictive schedule, with the frequent dinners with stuffy guests, the constant handshaking and ass kissing, the indignity of it all.

Sometimes you wished you could be Murakami's Ice Man, maybe then you could rise above these petty emotions and let nothing bother you. But you aren’t free of your past. You’re defined by it.

Gojo isn’t meeting your eyes. He’s settled on adjusting his clothes and sunglasses, plucking leaves from his jacket, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something. But you don’t let him. You dash past and ignore his existence, like you should have done from the beginning, and head to your lecture. 

Your hands are clenching and unclenching, neck creaking as you try to relieve the tension wound so tightly in your body you’re afraid you might combust. Everything about this is wrong. 

An engagement with Gojo is one thing, but to like the feel of his body on you, is a whole other thing. It’s stupid and it’s dangerous. Just like your mother said, emotions have no place in a marriage. You only need respect, and sometimes not even that. And as much as you hate her Machiavellian attitudes to life, you understand. You need a husband who'll mind his own business. Gojo is not that kind of man.

The guy refused to be friends, despite the many opportunities and chances you had granted him, so you won't do yourself the disservice of seeking a friendship.

You will not let the ‘hottest guy on campus’ sway you. His charming grins and arrogant comebacks will not warm your chest, and his muscular frame will definitely not haunt your dreams. There’s too much riding on this arrangement, on you. You cannot be distracted.

Man might be condemned to be free, but that doesn't apply to women. Not women like you, anyways. Thanks for nothing, Sartre.

Those are the thoughts you come away with from the encounter. 

Gojo, on the other hand, is still standing where you left him, hand rubbing his chest whilst lost in thought. His head is tilted, sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge again as he watches your retreating figure. 

It’s kinda hard to see your features through the pile of black clothing and accessories, but having been close enough to rub noses, he realised, you’re pretty. The kind of pretty that would inspire art, not that he knows much about that.

He licks his lips and he swears he can taste the sweetness of your scent lingering, and when he looks down on his chest, he also swears he felt the unmistakable sensation of small metal balls scraping at him through his thin jacket. 

A Cheshire grin pulls at the corners of his mouth. He stuffs his hands in his pockets once more and carries on walking at a leisurely pace, a slight pep in his steps gained from a victory over a game he didn’t even realise he was playing. He strolls to class with just one thought filling his mind. 

My future wifey’s got nipple piercings.

[queenie17]

Feral Kismet and Feral Branch AU HCs

* All five of them are grey have been since they were kids.

* They were in a orphanage together

* When they escaped the troll tree the caretaker of the orphanage made sure they would get left behind once out of the tunnel.

* All five of them suffered from memory issues

* They all have tails and claws

* Ablaze, Trickee, and Branch have thick fur

* Since Boom and Hype are glitter trolls they have no fur at all so they have to wear jackets made out of leaves.

* They play fight like lion cubs always pouncing on each other

* Ablaze is in charge

* Trickee is second in command

* Branch is the youngest

* If the play fighting gets bad Ablaze will pick on of them up by the scuff of the neck and separate them

* He has to do this to Branch a lot

* They all sleep curled up together

* They are rarely separated from each other

* They are covered in scars

* They basically have like a wolf pack dynamic

[alishad123]

Souvenir Comic

[whencyclopedia]

Norse-Viking Symbols & Meanings

A symbol is an image or object which represents an abstract concept, often having to do with one's religious beliefs. Every civilization, from the most ancient to the present, has made use of symbols to make the abstract concrete and visible and to provide assurance that a higher power was interested in, and sympathetic towards, the struggles of human beings.

The symbols used in Norse mythology had to do not only with supernatural entities but also with the challenges of everyday life and the mystery of what awaited after death. Some of these symbols can definitely be dated to the Viking Age (c. 790 - c. 1100 CE) but were no doubt in use much earlier. Other symbols seem to have developed later (between c. 1100 - c. 1300) after Christianity had established itself in Scandinavia.

There were many powerful symbols from the Norse-Viking period ranging from the wolf (for protection), to the horse (protection in travel), the troll cross (an amulet that protected one from trolls), the image of the Vegvisir ('way guide', a late Icelandic symbol which helped one find one's way) and the Web of Wyrd (web of fate), as well as the runes which were thought to evoke mystical powers. Generally, however, ten symbols were the most popular; these appear most often in stories, images, and as amulets:

Yggdrasil – the World Tree

The Valknut – Odin's Knot

The Swastika/Sun-Wheel

The Aegishjalmur – Helm of Awe

Mjolnir – Thor's Hammer

The Sventhorn – Sleep Thorn

Gungnir – Odin's Spear

The Ship

Huginn and Muninn – Odin's Ravens

The Triskelion – Odin's Horns

These symbols sometimes are found in the form of amulets (such as Thor's hammer), sometimes in depictions of the afterlife (as with the ship) and often in images concerning the journey of life (the swastika/sun-wheel and ship). In whatever context they appear, it is clear they were considered important evocations of powerful supernatural elements.

The Norse religion was non-exclusive and so it is common to find Christian symbols such as the cross paired with a popular pagan symbol such as Thor's hammer. Jesus Christ was initially considered just another god one could count on for protection and direction in life and remained so until Christianity became the dominant faith and the old beliefs died out.

Yggdrasil

The image of the World Tree appears in the mythology of many ancient cultures as a symbol of connection between all things and the cyclical nature of life: nothing ever finally dies, everything is constantly in a state of unending – and natural – transformation. According to scholar H. R. Ellis Davidson, Yggdrasil is "one of the most powerful symbols in Norse mythology, said to stand at the centre of the worlds of gods and men" (Myths and Symbols, 23). The nine realms of existence – all the seen and unseen worlds – were nestled in its roots including Jotunheim, the giants' realm, where Mimir's Well of Wisdom lay.

Although there remains much debate on the issue, it is generally agreed that Yggdrasil was an ash tree and that its name means "Odin's Horse" as in the tree to which the highest god's horse is bound but could also mean "tree of terror" as it is the tree on which Odin hung when he sacrificed himself to himself in his quest for wisdom (Simek, 375). The death-dragon Nidhoggr gnaws at the tree's roots while the eagle of discord nests in its upper branches and a squirrel named Ratatoskr runs up the trunk and back down delivering messages between the two. The dragon, eagle, and squirrel are all symbols of change as not even Yggdrasil will last forever. In the final battle of Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods and end of the world, Yggdrasil will be destroyed along with everything else but will be reborn afterwards in a new world.

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