AN: Hiya, guys! As you can see, another one shot of the 'Branch has a child' au, cause I can't stop now! Anyway, just wanted to describe Rosiepuff, cause I suck at drawing. Ok, so, she has pastel yellow skin and coral, specifically peach pink, hair, and her nose is that salmon shade of red. Pastels, as you can see, because who doesn't like pastels?
Anyway, enjoy!
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Crafted bonds
It blew up as fast as it came together. That's probably why it blew up. Branch groaned, reaching out a shaky hand to the back of his head. Great, he thought sarcastically. Just great.
Then a small cough interrupted his thoughts.
His instincts kicked in, and the first thought that crossed his mind was Rosiepuff, his daughter. With the colorful dust still hanging in the air, he swiftly maneuvered through the scattered remnants of his grand gesture, his eyes searching for her familiar face. The bunker, usually a place of calm, was now a canvas of disarray, but all that mattered to Branch was Rosiepuff's safety.
He found her not far from the epicenter of the blast, her wide eyes reflecting the myriad of colors that had painted the place just seconds ago. She was startled, yes, but unharmed, her resilient spirit already turning the shock into curiosity. Seeing her guardian's concerned expression, Rosiepuff reached out, her small hands finding Branch's larger ones, a silent reassurance that all was well. Her smile, a little shaky but genuine, was enough to ease Branch's worry.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he suddenly asked, pulling away from the hug and examining her, his hands moving with practiced ease to inspect for any injuries. "Legs? Arms? Feet? Anything?"
The girl shook her head. "I'm fine, Daddy," she muttered, slightly shaking as she buried her face in the older Troll's chest. Branch sighed in relief. His grip tightened around the smaller finger ever so slightly, careful not to hurt her.
"What are you going to get Aunt Poppy now?" Excellent question. Problem? Branch didn't know. He stood amidst the chaos, his heart sinking as his eyes fell upon the torn remnants of photographs scattered around him. Hands hesitant, they reached for the scattered pieces of pictures around him. They were split, torn, the once-taken-care-of's. Each picture was a captured moment, a memory of the laughter and love he shared with Poppy, now frayed at the edges and split by unintended mishaps. The vibrant colors of their past adventures seemed to fade before his eyes, overshadowed by the gray pall of regret that now hung in the air. He knelt down, gingerly picking up another piece of a photo, the edges rough against his fingertips. It was a snapshot of a picnic they had, with Poppy's radiant smile being the centerpiece of that sunny day. Another piece showed them mid-dance, lost in the music and in each other. Branch felt a lump form in his throat as he put them together.
He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, trying to center himself amidst the storm of emotions. When he opened them again, his resolve had hardened. With careful hands, he began to gather the pieces, laying them out like a tapestry of their time together. Some edges matched, while others did not, but each fragment was precious, as he placed them on the table.
With a determined spark in his eyes, Branch turned to Rosiepuff and declared, "We're going to make a scrapbook, Rosie. A scrapbook for all these memories."
Rosiepuff's face lit up with excitement, her tiny hands clapping in joy. "Scrapbooking with dad!" she squealed, bouncing on her toes. Together, they gathered the torn photographs, the glitter, and even the bits and pieces that were scattered around from the explosion. They laid everything out on the table, a canvas waiting to be transformed.
"Okay, sweetheart, we'll start by placing the photos here," Branch instructed, pointing to the empty pages of the notebook. Rosiepuff nodded eagerly, her fingers already picking up a photo of her and Poppy playing dress-up. "This one is my favorite. Can we add it?" she asked, waiting for permission to place the photo on the page.
Branch smiled. "We'll add whatever we want when we get to it." Another squeal escaped the young girl.
Branch chuckled as he sat next to her. "Now, what do you think we should add?"
Rosiepuff, needles to be told, had already gathered all the colorful papers she could find. She let them land on the table with a soft thud, and dust flew around them for a second. Her eyes beamed with joy. "Will those work?"
"You bet, sweetheart," her father replied with a 'let's get down to business' smile. "Let's start from the beginning."
"The trip to Bergen town?"
"The trip to Bergen town," Branch confirmed, handing her two different shades of purple pieces of paper and a pencil. "Can you draw a spider?"
She looked up at him. "Like the one you chased away with your hair?"
"That one."
"Yes!"
Branch smiled at her enthusiasm. He watched as she picked up her tools, drawing random lines across the paper before she began to draw the main outline. His gaze shifted to the tiny scraps in front of him. 'Branch and Poppy's great adventures' rang in his head. Simple, and beautiful. Perfect.
"Done!" a tiny voice cut through his thoughts, and a crocky drawing of a spider slipped under his face. "What do you think?"
"Amazing, Rosie," he praised. "We'll just have to cut it out and stick it."
And Rosiepuff wasted no second in grabbing the scissors. Which were gently taken from her grip.
"You're not allowed near scissors yet," Branch stated in a matter-of-factly tone. "You can draw something else while I cut it out, how about that?"
The younger pouted. "But Aunt Poppy lets me cut out the figures when we scrapbook together!"
Branch's eyes widened, the scissors' path coming to a halt. "Aunt Poppy does what?!"
Rosiepuff avoided his gaze, and she murmured a soft, "Aunt Poppy lets me hold the scissors…" as her finger traced along the wooden table.
The dull troll looked at her as if she had said she murdered someone. He sighed. "Well, from now on, you're not allowed near anything sharp. Got it?"
"But-"
"No buts, I can't risk you getting injured while I'm not here." He took out another red paper. "You can draw something else while I do the cutting."
She huffed. "Alright…" She picked up her pencil. "What should I draw?"
Branch pondered for a moment. "Hmm… how about… the moment Poppy got crowned?"
"Ay ay, Dad!" And with that, the young girl began her work.
—--
"Stick the rest of the pictures while I decorate the cover, can you do that?"
Rosiepuff sat with a fascinated glint in her eyes, surrounded by a sea of colorful paper, glitter, and more memories waiting to be immortalized in the scrapbook. Branch, with his gentle guidance, showed her how to select the perfect moments that captured the essence of their adventures with Poppy. He taught her the value of each memory, explaining why some moments shone brighter in their hearts. The pastel-yellow girl listened intently, her little hands carefully placing photos, her concentration palpable as she decided where each piece belonged.
"Write a little note," Branch said softly, nodding towards the shot of Poppy and his daughter playing dress-up.
Rosiepuff giggled, a small squeak escaping her lips as she wrote letters Branch couldn't quite make out. Not that his handwriting was any better.
"We're out of glue."
His eyes widened. "What? We still have so much to do!"
His daughter looked at him with an innocent smile. "Want me to borrow some from Aunt Poppy?"
"No, she'll suspect something is up…"
"We can use tape!"
He took the tape from her hand. It won't be as good, but at least it's better than leaving half of the pages empty. And besides, Poppy wouldn't suspect anything if they didn't ask for glue. "Alright, let's see."
Branch watched as her tiny hands reached for the scissors once more, only for him to win the race and have them in his grip again. A proud smile tugged at his lips, while a disappointment pout appeared on her face, as he saw her creativity bloom, despite grumpy. He offered suggestions, but more often than not, he found himself learning from Rosiepuff's uninhibited approach to the scrapbook. She mixed colors with abandon, pairs the unlikeliest of memories, and somehow, it all came together beautifully. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two from her.
"Now, let's add some…" he trailed off, gagging slightly, "glitter around it," he muttered, handing her a jar of glitter. Rosiepuff's face broke into a wide grin as she sprinkled the glitter over the page, turning it into a shimmering masterpiece.
Hours passed, and the scrapbook began to take shape, each page a collage of their lives. There were pages filled with laughter, pages that sparkled with the magic of their world, and pages that simply showed the everyday moments that, when pieced together, told the story of a family.
Finally, as they placed the last photo, Rosiepuff leaned back and admired their work. "It's beautiful, Daddy. Aunt Poppy is going to love it!" she exclaimed, her voice full of pride.
Branch wrapped an arm around Rosiepuff's shoulders, pulling her close. "She will, Rosie. And it's all thanks to you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.