TTBGO/TrollsTopia: The Tales of Broppy

Blossoms in Harmony

Poppy and Branch go to a field of flower to have a romantic picnic date and they end up laying in the field together and picking beautiful flowers for each other.

The sun had barely risen, casting a warm golden hue across the treetops of Pop Village, when Poppy tiptoed through her cottage, humming softly to herself. The day was finally here. She'd planned it down to the tiniest sparkle—today would be her and Branch’s first official "no-savesies, no-disasters, just-us" picnic date.

Her basket was packed with the most colorful spread: soft rainbow cupcakes with whipped cloudberry frosting, sweet-and-salty bug chips, crisp pop petals dusted with sugar shimmer, and even two fizzy bottles of glitterberry soda chilled in dew-drops overnight. She tucked in two hand-woven napkins—one blue, one pink—and two tiny flower crowns she’d made at dawn, one with wild azalea and the other with a single daisy in the middle. She blushed just thinking about putting it on Branch.

Meanwhile, at the edge of the meadow, Branch was already pacing beside a neatly folded checkered blanket. He wore his usual vest, but Poppy had convinced him to wear a little floral pin today—something subtle, but meaningful. He’d grumbled at first, but now he caught himself adjusting it every few seconds, strangely nervous.

When he spotted her crossing the stepping-stones over the brook, the sunlight caught in her hair like rose gold, her basket swinging at her side. He froze. She always looked bright, but this time? She looked like spring.

“Hey,” he said, voice cracking slightly.

Poppy grinned. “Hi! I brought snacks. And an extra flower crown. But if you brought one too, we can trade and wear each other’s—”

“You brought a flower crown?” he asked, squinting as she pulled it out.

“Yep!” she said cheerily. “And it matches your eyes!”

She reached up and gently settled it on his head, adjusting it just so. Branch stood very still, letting her fingers brush through his hair. He looked away quickly, ears twitching.

“...It doesn’t look silly, right?” he mumbled.

“You look adorable,” she replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Like a brooding little blossom.”

He rolled his eyes, but his cheeks glowed a soft shade of purple. “Well, you look like a cupcake exploded in a flower shop.”

Poppy laughed. “Aww, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

They spread out the blanket beneath a wide pink blossom tree, its petals falling like soft confetti in the breeze. The grass was lush and warm, sprinkled with wildflowers that seemed to hum lightly with the natural music of the world. Birds chirped a mellow harmony in the distance.

As they ate, Poppy scooted closer to him with every passing story—until their shoulders touched. Branch pretended not to notice, but eventually, when she leaned her head against him mid-laugh, he let it stay there, steady and quiet.

After their feast, Poppy flopped back onto the grass and sighed, “We should make this our thing. Picnics. Petals. Peace.”

“Hard to argue with that,” Branch said, lying down beside her. “No chaos. No screaming. Just flowers and you.”

Poppy tilted her head toward him. “You like quiet more than most Trolls. But… do you like quiet with me?”

Branch turned his eyes toward hers—calm, serious. “Especially with you.”

The world slowed down after that. They didn’t talk for a while. Instead, they picked flowers for each other: Poppy found a tiny white bloom and tucked it into Branch’s crown, saying it reminded her of his thoughtful heart. Branch chose a sky-blue daisy and slipped it behind her ear. “It’s soft. But still strong. Like you.”

They even made a silly game of it—trying to find the “most Poppy flower” and the “most Branch flower.” Poppy’s choice for him? A dark green bud that didn’t open until it was warmed by touch. Branch’s choice for her? A fiery pink trumpet flower that made a soft sound when blown into.

“Looks like it sings,” Poppy said, grinning. She blew into it, and it gave off a playful little “toot!”

Branch smirked. “Just like you. Loud, funny, and full of surprises.”

At one point, she leaned over to brush a petal off his cheek and didn’t pull back right away. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the breeze, the birds, the soft rustle of grass—all of it went quiet.

“Branch?” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“I really like... this. Not just the flowers or the picnic.” She paused, then leaned in a bit closer. “I like us.”

His fingers grazed hers, then slowly wrapped around them. “Me too.”

She smiled, then playfully pounced into a nearby patch of golden blooms, laughing. “Race you to the fluff-drops!”

Branch groaned but chased after her, grinning despite himself. They ended up tumbling into the soft flowers together, tangled in petals and laughter. Poppy landed half on top of him, her hair full of blossoms, her cheeks pink.

“Oops!” she said with mock innocence.

“You planned that,” he muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Maybe,” she whispered, before snuggling into his side again. “But I’d call it… a successful accident.”

They lay there for what felt like hours, picking blossoms and watching the clouds drift lazily by. Every so often, Poppy would sing a tiny melody, and Branch would hum along under his breath. Their rhythms were different, but together… they just fit.