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rnelodyy · 2 years ago

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The Owl House And Restorative Justice

At the end of Season 1 of The Owl House, it is revealed that Lilith, the main overarching antagonist of that season, was the one to curse her sister Eda, one of the protagonists, to win a tournament when they were teenagers. This information causes Eda to fly into a screaming rage and attack Lilith, and understandably so.

Eda’s curse is essentially a chronic illness, one that, in Eda’s own words, has ruined her life, being the reason she’s considered a social outcast and why, before meeting King and Luz, she hadn’t gotten close to anyone in years. In season 2, it’s revealed that the curse is why she pushed away her partner Raine to the point that they broke it off with her, and that during a particularly bad flareup, she accidentally maimed her own father, leaving him half blind and with permanent nerve damage to his hands, making him unable to continue working as a Palisman carver. The curse has ruled Eda’s life for decades now, so to Eda, this is the ultimate betrayal.

In the first episode of Season 2, Lilith has defected from the Emperor’s Coven, split the curse between Eda and herself to mitigate the symptoms for her sister, and has moved in with Eda at the Owl House. While Lilith herself still feels guilty and feels she has to make it up to Eda, everyone else, Eda included, has seemingly either forgiven her or chosen to look past it. Eda even makes fun of her for feeling bad about cursing her, and Lilith’s guilt is seemingly absent for the rest of the series.

The response to this was… Less than stellar, shall we say. A lot of people were angry, saying Lilith got away with her crimes without even a slap on the wrist, and that Eda’s forgiveness of her was far too sudden.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this kind of critique. Amity spent years bullying Willow after her parents forced her to break off their friendship, and when she began trying to mend that relationship, the response from fans was that Willow should have been a lot more angry at Amity, and that they went back to being besties far too soon. I’ve even seen this criticism leveled at Hunter for the things he did while working for Belos, at Vee for impersonating Luz for months to trick her mother, and at Luz for hiding the fact that she helped Philip find the Collector from her friends. And it does seem strange for the show to keep tripping on this same point again and again.

Except, it’s not really. Because I think that, when viewing this show from a different angle, those supposed flaws are actually symptoms of something very important to understand – The Owl House operates on a system of crime and punishment that is very different from our world’s.

More specifically, our world mostly utilizes retributive justice. The world of The Owl House utilizes restorative justice.

So first, what do those terms mean? Broadly, they’re two different forms of handling interpersonal disputes, or dealing with crime.

Retributive justice is the one our current justice system uses, where the focus is primarily on punishing the perpetrator. Retributive justice can mean detention, suspension, expulsion, jail time, monetary fines, some kinds of community service, exile, or in more severe cases, corporal punishment or the death penalty. It’s the lens most people view the world through, where if someone hurts you, hurting them back is the correct response.

Restorative justice is a very different approach, where you instead focus on helping the victim recover from what happened, and rehabilitating the perpetrator to prevent this from happening again. Restorative justice can look like verbal or written apologies, monetary compensation for costs and trauma, therapy for both victim and perpetrator, education for the perpetrator, mediation between victim and perpetrator, a restraining order, etc.

When viewed through a retributive lens, The Owl House lets its characters get away with a lot of shit. Lilith cursing Eda, Hunter rounding up Palismen knowing they’ll be killed, Amity tormenting Willow for years, it’s all stuff that, in a retributive environment, they should be punished for, and they’re just not. Eda is only genuinely angry at Lilith for two scenes, Amity and Willow fix their relationship very quickly once Amity starts making amends, and Hunter isn’t punished at all.

However, I believe the story of The Owl House is best viewed not through a retributive lens, but through a restorative lens.

Let’s look at the Lilith-example again. Lilith’s offense was cursing Eda, which she did because she wanted to win a spot in the Emperor’s Coven. Knowing Eda was better than her, she cast a curse on her, thinking it would only last for a day. But when the time came, Eda forfeited the match, soon after which she transformed into the Owl Beast and was pelted with rocks until she ran. The curse turned out to be very permanent, and Lilith spent the next 20 years trying to fix her mistake by working for Belos to try to capture Eda, since he promised to heal her curse.

However, when she finally succeeded, Belos went back on his promise. Instead of healing Eda, he ordered her to be publicly executed. When Lilith protested, Belos essentially told her to shut up, that it was the Titan’s will, and left her there.

So, having realized her method of fixing her mistake has gone real bad, Lilith sneaks down to the Conformatorium to free Eda herself, but arrives too late and finds Luz instead. After a brief fight they end up teaming up, and Lilith leads Luz to the elevator, but they are captured by Belos and Lilith is thrown into the cage with Eda. There, she restores Eda’s partially petrified body, and after fleeing with her, Luz and King, uses a spell to split Eda’s curse evenly between their two bodies.

From a restorative justice point of view, Lilith has done pretty much everything she reasonably could do to fix things. She’s denounced the Emperor’s Coven, returned Owlbert to Luz, helped Luz find the elevator to the execution platform, saved Eda from petrification, apologized to Eda, and while there’s no way for her to cure Eda’s curse entirely, she took on half of the curse at great expense to her own health, in order to ease Eda’s symptoms.

Eda isn’t angry anymore because in her eyes, Lilith has already fixed things with her. Punishing her more at this point is pointless. What more could Lilith do, really? What other lessons could she learn? The only thing that punishment would bring at this point would be more suffering.

Let’s look at another example: Amity and Willow.

Amity’s offense was breaking off her friendship with Willow because she was a late-bloomer, bullying her for years, and allowing her friends to do so too. Willow is left with horrible self-esteem issues because of this, and combined with her failing grades, turned her into a horribly shy and withdrawn wallflower (no pun intended). After she’s moved to the plant track she starts actually getting better, but Amity and Boscha especially continue to torment her. While Amity’s bullying of Willow does peter out over time, Willow is clearly still extremely resentful of her. In an attempt to make Willow forget their friendship, Amity accidentally sets most of Willow’s memories on fire, leaving her confused, amnesiac, and unable to grasp basic concepts like that chairs are for sitting in.

Luz pushed Amity into fixing Willow’s brain by going into her mind together and piecing her memories back together. There, the Inner Willow revealed what happened to Luz and the audience.

At this point, Amity shows her that her parents were actually the ones who forced her to end the friendship because they didn’t think Willow was a suitably powerful or influential friend, threatening to make sure Willow would never get accepted into Hexside if Amity didn’t force her to leave. Amity then apologizes to Willow for going along with it, and for the bullying, and vows to make sure her friends never mess with Willow again.

Willow accepts her apology, but also makes it clear that, while it’s a start, she’s not yet ready to accept Amity in her life again. Restorative justice has not been fully attained, because to Willow, Amity hasn’t fixed everything – Boscha and her squad are still bullying her, and still consider Amity one of them. This changes two episodes later, when Amity tells Boscha to grow the fuck up when she starts bullying Willow again, and joins her and Luz’s Grudgby team despite her personal issues to get Boscha to back off. Willow doesn’t make a grand gesture of forgiveness in this episode, but it is after this point where the two become comfortable around eachother again.

Did Willow forgive Amity too quickly for years of trauma? Maybe. If she had chosen to continue keeping Amity at a distance I certainly wouldn’t have blamed her. But in the end, Amity fixed the mess she caused as best she could, and has proven herself to want to be a better person, to want to be Willow’s friend again. She worked hard to prove herself to be a person worth trusting, and Willow decided to give that trust a chance again.

And while they did become friends again, that friendship was clearly still affected by what happened, which led to bumps that the two of them had to work through. Like in Labyrinth Runners, where Amity’s overprotectiveness over Willow makes Willow feel like Amity thinks she’s incompetent, and still only sees her as the helpless person she used to be.

Willow continuing to be mad at Amity and punishing her for what she did wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction, but it wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would certainly have an impact on Amity, seeing her former best friend rejecting her attempts to make up for what she did, but the hurt on both sides would have continued festering, because deep down, Willow missed Amity too.

In Hunter’s case, there’s the question of whether he can even be held responsible for his actions. The Palisman-kidnapping in specific was explicitly done under duress – if he failed he would face verbal and physical abuse, and be threatened with his nightmare scenario: getting thrown out of the Emperor’s Coven.

And that’s not an empty threat either. Hunter has no magic, and Belos has drilled it into him that witches without magic have no future. Without the Emperor’s Coven, his only future prospects would be starving to death on the streets or wasting away in prison. Either way, Hunter would be alone, without family or friends, without a job or job prospects, without anyone to turn to for help. Any child would be terrified of that. Hunter wasn’t always acting on direct orders – in fact he defied direct orders to stay in his room in Eclipse Lake to go look for Titan’s Blood, and then again in Hollow Mind to arrest the rebels. But he made those choices based on the idea that Belos wouldn’t want him if he was a failure, and that he needed a chance to prove that he could still be useful.

And contrary to popular belief, Hunter does know right from wrong. He has a very strong moral compass, he’s just been forced to ignore it in favor of doing whatever the Emperor wants. To shut up that little voice telling him he’s doing the wrong thing, he uses what’s called a thought-terminating cliche, a statement that feels so fundamentally true that the argument need not continue. In Hunter’s case, that statement is “It’s for the greater good.” Sure, kidnapping his new friends and abducting Palismen to feed to the Emperor and threatening someone who’s been nothing but kind to him to take the portal key from her girlfriend and justifying terrorism makes his stomach feel like he swallowed a cactus and saying it out loud makes him sound like a horrible person – but it’s for the greater good. He’s doing it to serve Belos, and Belos knows what’s best.

So by the time Hunter is out of active danger and able to rest and recover from what happened to him… what would further punishment accomplish? He already knows that he did fucked up shit while working for the EC, and he’s proven time and time again that while he’s not fighting for Belos’s approval, he’s actually a genuinely kind-hearted kid. Punishing him now would likely cause him to react very poorly, because he’s been at the wrong end of that stick so often that he’s developed severe PTSD because of it.

And if you think restorative justice is still in order – Hunter is currently hyperfixated on making sure Belos can never hurt anyone again, and for the long term, he has expressed that he wants to become a Palisman carver when he grows up. While it won’t bring back the Palismen that were killed, it will help the current Palisman population recover and reintroduce Palismen to witches who may have had to give up theirs.

When viewed through this lens, the writing of The Owl House starts to make more sense. As a show, it is extremely forgiving towards its characters – they’re still held accountable for their actions, but as long as they’re willing to grow and learn and fix the damage they caused, they are very quickly forgiven.

However, I do understand why these writing choices can be… controversial, so to say. Because it doesn’t feel very satisfying, does it? When someone hurts you on purpose, your first impulse would be to try to hurt them back, that’s just how people work.

That’s the hardest thing to come to terms with when you become an advocate for prison abolition for example – you’re not just arguing for freeing a guy who got 5 years because a cop found weed in his pockets, you’re arguing for the release, and most importantly, the humanity of some of the most vile, disgusting people this planet has ever produced. Even now, when someone commits a truly awful crime and gets sent to prison for life, my first thought is “Good, I hope they rot in there.” But that’s not justice. That’s just revenge. And revenge is not something we as a society should want to build our justice system on.

It’s not satisfying to see Lilith go from using Luz as a human shield in her fight against Eda to sleeping on the couch in Eda’s house within 2 episodes. It’s not satisfying to see Willow let Amity back into her life when Amity has hurt her so badly before, or to see Hunter become romantically involved with Willow after he literally abducted her the first time they met. But that satisfaction isn’t really the point. Revenge is satisfying in the moment, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and if someone shows a genuine willingness to change, it’s often better to give them a chance to.

However, my final point is about what happens when this approach fails. Because not everyone is willing to change. Some people, when faced with the consequences of their actions, decide to dig their heels in and refuse to admit fault, or blame the victim(s), or use those same thought-terminating cliches that Hunter used to justify their actions, “I was just following orders” being a big one.

And thus, we come to Belos.

If Belos showed a willingness to change, a genuine one, not an attempt at manipulation, should he be given the chance to? That vengeful part of me is VERY empathetically saying no. But logically, reasonably, he should be given that chance, if only because he’s a human being and no human being deserves to be mistreated. That doesn’t mean his victims are obligated to forgive him or be around him again, in fact I think that, for the sake of Hunter’s mental health, Belos should stay as far away from him as humanly possible. But he should be given the chance to start over, to truly better himself and do something good with the rest of his life.

But Belos isn’t willing to change.

Belos is a product of a bad environment and grew up with a cult-like mentality and hatred for witches that he had to adopt for his own safety. It’s hard to break out of that mentality, but not impossible. Case in point: Caleb. The tragedy of Belos’s character to me is that he had so many chances to change, so many people to help him make that leap, but all of the people who offered him that help ended up dead by his hands because he couldn’t handle the idea that he may have been wrong.

At this point, Belos is stuck. Changing would mean not only giving up on his life’s work, but acknowledging to himself that everything he’s done, mutilating his body, killing his brother, slaughtering thousands and installing himself as God-Emperor of a population he despises more than anything in order to facilitate a genocide, was completely pointless.

He can’t admit that to himself. Especially the thing about Caleb’s death. He’s sunk-cost-fallacied himself so far into a corner that all he can really do when faced with opposing viewpoints is dig his heels in even deeper and lash out in a rage at anyone who challenges him. Even now, when his body is literally falling apart at the seams, he’s still trying to commit witch-genocide, because it’s all he has.

Restorative justice doesn’t work in this case, because the perpetrator needs to be receptive to it. Logically you would assume the show would default to retributive justice, and characters like Willow and Camila do take a very vengeful glee in imagining themselves beating the snot out of Belos. But right now, the primary motivation of the Hexsquad and Hunter in particular when it comes to Belos is to end the threat he poses. As long as Belos is alive and free, he will continue to hurt and kill people, and if he can’t be talked down, he needs to be either contained or killed to prevent him from causing more harm.

The Owl House provides, in my opinion, a very nuanced take on restorative justice. It shows how it works in action, how different situations impact what it looks like, and what happens when it’s simply not an option. It’s not the most satisfying story to tell your audience, because when someone hurts our babies we want them to suffer, no matter how sorry they say they are. But in this case, I think that sacrificing that bit of audience comfort is worth it to tell the story like this.

#the owl house #the owl house meta #toh meta #toh lilith #toh amity #toh hunter #toh belos

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thewertsearch · 6 months ago

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TC: it rots you. TC: RUSTS YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN THINK PAN. TC: and the floor all stares up back at you through the motherfuckin hole. TC: BUT THERE IS NO HOLE NOW. TC: only under motherfuckin standing of who all i was made out to be all along. TC: ONLY UNDER MOTHERFUCKING STANDING OF WHO ALL I WAS MADE OUT TO MOTHERFUCKING BE ALL A MOTHERFUCKING LONG.

This doesn't look like lucidity to me. He's barely conversing with Karkat, instead repeating his own phrases and musing about his mental state. His quirk makes it seem like he's alternating between a whisper and a scream, and I don't think that's too far from the truth.

He's certainly more… focused than he was before, but he still doesn't seem entirely coherent. Withdrawal symptoms, perhaps?

TC: i've been kicking the wicked ignorance on this shit. TC: BEEN MOTHERFUCKIN SLAUGHTERING THE WICKED IGNORANCE, BRO. TC: all up in lifelong denial about my calling. TC: AS A DESCENDANT OF THE HIGH MOTHERFUCKIN SUBJUGGLATORS. TC: we are higher than you, brother. TC: WE ARE HIGHER THAN MOTHERFUCKIN EVERYBODY.

Oh, this is exactly what we don’t need right now.

The guy’s been awake for five minutes, and he’s already gone full hemospectrum. He is between Equius and Eridan on the blood chart, after all, and he seems to have embraced the former's prejudice and the latter's violence.

I don't know where they came from - whether he picked them up offscreen, or if they've always been innate to his personality - but if they're asserting themselves this quickly, they're clearly as deeply-ingrained in him now as they are in Eridan. That guy just murdered two of the most benevolent trolls we have - and I'm getting the sinking feeling that Gamzee is more dangerous than he is.

Is this the next crisis, then? A newly-reborn Gamzee is going to take charge of the session himself, and enforce the hemospectrum's hierarchy on the surviving trolls?

TC: and now. TC: AND MOTHERFUCKING NOW. TC: i am going to motherfuckin kill all you motherfuckers. [...] TC: and paint the wicked pictures with your motherfuckin blood.

....evidently not.

He's in some sort of frenzy, then. This is highblood violence in its purest form - violence that's been repressed for years, but is now being released all at once, in a torrent of blood.

TC: FROM YOUR VEINS WILL DRIP MY MIRACLES. TC: your crushed bones will make my special stardust. TC: WELCOME TO THE DARK CARNIVAL, BROTHER.

Blood.

That blood. From earlier.

He wasn’t the one getting attacked, was he?

What the hell does it mean that this Gamzee is the most important character in Homestuck? What the hell is he going to do?

You have never been so scared in your entire life.

Correct - and neither has Karkat.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s120 #3358

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magicbystarlight · 1 year ago

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Before I Knew You - Part Ten

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Thank you for reading, I love seeing the comments and appreciation for this story ❤️

Summary: You’ve spent years training under Madam Pomfrey in the hopes that you would join the Healers at St. Mungo’s at graduation. But in the aftermath of the death of Albus Dumbledore, you chose to join the Order instead. When you’re forced into hiding, you find yourself alone with Bill Weasley and his new wolfish tendencies.

Word Count: 4,037

Warnings: 18+, typical canon warnings, sprinkle in some miscommunication, age gap, questionable ethics from a medical professional. Minors DNI.

The ocean was louder than you remembered. Colder too.

Wet sand sank under your feet with each step, waves erasing the prints you left behind. The paper that morning had read August 30th. A month since the wedding. Six weeks since the farm. A little more than two months since the Death Eaters’ attack on Hogwarts. Eight months since you'd last seen your parents. A year since you’d kissed Cillian goodbye thinking there was a future together. Somehow that seemed too short a time for everything that had happened. All that'd you'd lost.

It had been easy to compartmentalize. Push it away and focus on anything else. But the holes were there. You missed the Cillian you'd known. You missed your parents and their excited, encouraging smiles. You missed Madam Pomfrey's complete trust in you and your abilities. You missed the days when you thought you had any control of tomorrow.

Three years working the Hospital Wing, two more being its frequent volunteer. All in hopes of a job at St. Mungos. You’d gotten it. A spot in the Janus Thickey Ward working with patients with spell damaged minds. The decision to walk away from it had been easy. You were no longer safe, yes, but that wasn’t why.

You could still remember his blood on your hands. The panic in Madam Pomfrey’s usually calm movements. His eyes finally opening, blue in a sea of red, and his hand gripping your wrist. He’d mumbled something. Impossible to understand. But he was alive and there was hope. He would live. Scarred and straddled with symptoms of an unknown severity, but there had been hope he could live his life mostly as he always had. Then Fleur had fled.

All he'd gotten was a letter. All you'd given Cillian was a letter. She’d sent back a ring, you’d sent back a bracelet. Maybe not the same, but they were kindred sentiments. And it was devastating to destroy something that in another time would have been forever.

The sand shifted as you sat. No wonder Bill hated the idea of you leaving. No wonder you had such a hard time actually wanting to leave. It was ironic how well matched you were. Poetic even. You his stand in for Fleur and he yours for Cillian. He could make you stay and you could stay. He wanted to protect people and you wanted to heal them.

But he wasn't Cillian and you weren't Fleur and this wasn't a relationship. This was two traumatized people trapped together in a war trying to keep each other alive.

High tide came while you watched the moon's reflection ripple in the water. The ocean couldn't combat the forces of the moon. How could you?

—

Bill sat, head in his hands, at the table when you returned to the cottage. Waiting.

"Thought you went to bed."

He looked up. Gods it wasn’t fair when he looked at you like that. Like he was relieved to see you. "Yeah, yeah I did, but I heard the door and I thought…”

He didn’t finish the thought. You had to look away. His sad eyes were for someone else. “I needed some air.” Had you looked like that when he left? Maybe the first night. Much worse the other three. "I wouldn't walk out on you." Not like he did.

"Right," was all he had to say.

Maybe you should have left.

"I'm off to bed then." You hadn't made it two steps before he pleaded for you to wait.

"Can we talk?"

It was too much. Your emotions were still raw, bleeding and blistering from the scab you’d picked away. It hurt. You were hurting. And he only cared because he thought you were going to leave. Gods, why did that make it worse?

"I don't fucking know Bill, can we? Cause I’ve tried. But every time you leave. Or we say ‘tomorrow’. But there’s never been a tomorrow, has there?” You couldn't look at him. If you did, you'd break. "I'm exhausted with this back and forth. Trying to manage being your Healer who understands how difficult this has been for you and being your friend who doesn't understand why you won't let me help you." You could hear him move, but you kept your gaze fixed on the stairs. "I can't keep doing this, having this same conversation with you. I know it's a lot, I get it, I do, but I'm terrfied I'm going to watch you die in this fucking cottage because your ego is too fucking big to let someone take care of you." He was standing right behind you. You could step back, let his arms wrap around you.

"I had nightmares." It was a fragile confession. An admission he didn't want to give. "Every night after that first one in the Hospital Wing. They always changed, but it was mostly just Greyback and Death Eaters coming after the people I cared about. Every night. Except the night Mad-Eye died. I thought maybe it was because I lived it that night, because they came back. And then we came here and it was so…peaceful. I just slept. Until I fucked everything up and left. The only night since then that I haven't dreamed of death and blood is the night I came back."

"You should have told me."

"What was I supposed to say? Sleep with me so I don't have bad dreams?"

You spun, shoving your finger into his chest. "And there's that fucking ego, Bill." "Ego? You think this has all been about my ego?"

"I know tonight was."

He started to say something, reconsidered, and said instead, "Alright you got me there. But, but, wait, please," he grabbed your hand as you'd begun to turn away again. "Think about this from my perspective, yeah? You’ve made it abundantly clear that you would do whatever it takes to make me feel even an ounce of relief.”

“Of course I would.”

“And don’t you see the problem with that? If I’d told you in the beginning that I needed to sleep with you and needed to fuck you, you’d have done it.”

“It would've taken me a bit to come around to it," maybe not as long as you'd like to admit, "but yeah. Yeah, I would have.”

“But not because you would have wanted to.”

He was wrong, but it only made you feel worse. “Do you realize how unethical it is for me to want to fuck you, Bill? It goes against everything I’m supposed to be as your Healer. You don’t have control over what’s happening to you, how your body’s reacting, and I’m supposed to be helping you through it, not taking advantage of you.”

“Taking advantage of me? I’ve got almost ten years on you. These last few months have been hell for you and now—now you depend on me for almost everything. What I want is depraved." He still held your hand, now clutching it against his chest. "I'm supposed to keep you safe and instead all I can think about half the time is…Merlin, you don't need to know. And maybe, maybe I can't help that, but I never had to drag you into it." Like you knew you would, you broke. Reaching up, you cupped his face. His scruff scratched at your palm as he leaned into the touch. "You didn't drag me into anything."

"I did, didn't I? Bringing you here? I should've taken you somewhere else with someone else."

"I think you're forgetting if it wasn't for you and Remus, I'd be dead. And if you hadn't been so quick at the wedding, I'd either been caught by Death Eaters or Cillian." His grip tightened on your hand, eyes clenched shut. "We've made the best choices we can, Bill. The ones that've kept us alive."

"It doesn't feel like there's been any choices."

"Well we have a choice now. We can figure out another living situation for me, with someone else and hope that alleviates some of your symptoms. Let me finish," you said as he opened his mouth. "We can do that. Or we can ignore how complicated and unethical it is for me to stay and we do what we need to do for each other. What we want to do to each other. But only, only if let me take care of you."

"So you do want me?" "Bill Weasley, did you hear any other words I said?"

His hand took hold of your waist, pulling you closer. "Every one of 'em. I'll let you run any test, answer any question, poke and prod whatever you need, follow every instruction you give. Promise. Just stay with me."

"I'm not doing this again. I won't have this conversation a third—" you paused and corrected, "a fourth time. If you can't—"

"We won't." His grip tightened, forehead pressing against yours. "We'll do it your way."

"Okay. Good." He felt so warm. "Maybe we should get to bed?"

“Yeah.”

“Together, right?”

“I do need you to keep away the bad dreams,” he mused before sweeping you into his arms. His amused chuckle as you questioned how he kept picking you up so effortlessly left you feeling breathless. “You’re light as a feather, love.”

It was only a few minutes later that he was breathing evenly beneath you in the small bed upstairs, an arm draped around your waist. He wasn't Cillian. You weren't Fleur. This wasn't a relationship. For now though, this was enough. One day it wouldn't be, but you closed your eyes and slept.

—

Nothing could have made you leave bed. It smelled too good, felt too warm. After weeks of terrible sleep, it was heaven. From Bill's steady breath against your hair, it seemed he wouldn't crawl out of bed anytime soon either.

Almost nothing could have made you leave bed.

Nothing but a loud pop, followed closely by another.

You were jinxed. You had to be. It was the only explanation for a Weasley horde popping into existence so early in the morning with Bill still wrapped around you in bed. Bill's wide-eyed terror mirrored your own as the shrill voice of Molly shrieked at the familiar laughter of Fred, George, and Ginny.

"...to Diagon Alley! Alone! To think I trusted you boys with her!"

"It was a quick stop," one of the twins insisted as you both fell out of bed and scrambled down the stairs. "Needed to grab something from the shop," said the other.

"And no one even saw me!” Ginny added.

“But what if they had! Don’t you think it would have raised a very dangerous question of exactly how you’d appeared there when no one saw you leave the Burrow? Hmm? They think they're watching our every move! We cannot have them question that!”

Five heads of fiery red hair came into view of the windows causing your own to whip around the house in case anything screamed, “We had sex last night!” Bill seemed to do the same. He dove for something on the floor that you couldn’t see from the table. He managed to straighten up just before the door burst open.

Fred—you knew it was him because he had both his ears—was the first of the brood to come through with George and Ginny close on his heels. “Mornin’ Bill! Mornin’ Gorgeous!”

“Merlin, Fred! Have no manners stuck in that head of yours?” Molly gripped as she followed. She turned from her son and fixed you with a softer, apologetic look. “Sorry dear. We didn’t mean to burst in."

"Oh, we most certainly did," Fred countered as he made his way to you and threw an arm around your shoulders. George added, mirroring his twin, “We were hoping to catch you two doing something naughty.”

"That's it! Both of you, back to the Burrow!"

Whining shouts of protests came from the three younger Weasley siblings as you were released. “It was a joke!” “Can’t anyone have a good laugh these days?” "But it's my last day!"All you could do was hope that nothing in your face gave away the very naughty things they'd have caught you doing if they'd come by the night before.

As the argument continued, Arthur took the opportunity to break away. He approached Bill, his expression markedly more subdued than the others. He whispered something into his son's ear. Bill's gaze flitted to you—in worry? Horror? Embarrassment? Oh gods, did Arthur know? Did they all know? An uncomfortable bubbling in your stomach grew as the two disappeared into the bedroom Kingsley had occupied the day before.

“One more toe out of line and I will send you back, do you hear me?”

Your gaze snapped back to the others. No. They didn’t know. Fred and George would certainly never let you live it down if they’d known. Molly would not be looking at you with any kindness if she thought you’d taken advantage of her son. And Ginny… you didn’t want to know what she would do. You’d seen the aftermath of her hexes.

"Now outside. The three of you."

Ginny gave you a small wave as she followed her brothers outside. Definitely didn’t know.

"Again, very sorry dear," Molly said kindly. “It was just supposed to be Arthur popping over, but Ginny overheard and well, she heads off to Hogwarts tomorrow and she’s been wanting to come.”

“Of course, yeah—yeah. I think Bill mentioned he wanted to have everyone over. Before, you know, Kingsley and all that. Something about fighting chickens?”

“Chicken Fight. The kids do love that game.”

“Right, yeah. So, um, has something happened?” Your fingers picked at your lip as you nodded towards the bedroom. “You know, since Arthur was coming by.”

Molly hesitated before giving a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just normal Order business. Nothing to fret about.”

When you'd gone off to the farm, you hadn't really thought about bringing along a swimsuit. Molly, the ever prepared mother, had brought along an extra one-size-fits-all swimsuit for you. So you spent hours on the sand and in the water with the Weasleys doing your best to act like everything was completely and utterly fine.

Like you weren’t worried about what had happened between you and Bill the night before, or worried for his health, or worried about what that horrified look meant, or worried about Ginny going to Hogwarts the next day, or worried if Kingsley was alright, or worried if someone else was going to show up on the verge of death again.

You were fine.

Completely and utterly fine.

“You alright?” Fred asked as he sat next to you on one of the towels. His hair still dripped, his siblings continuing to toss around a Quaffle in the water.

You gave your best attempt at a smile as you pulled your knees tighter against your chest. “Yeah, of course.” You'd never been good at acting.

“Really?”he asked with a raised brow and skeptical tone. "Cause I don't think I've seen you crack a smile at all today."

Resting your chin on your arm, you watched Bill get tackled and dragged down into the waves by Ginny and George. Arthur was passed out a few feet away turning a shade that would rival his hair and Molly was sitting peacefully under an umbrella reading. Bill and Arthur had come out of the room like nothing had happened. Joking, playing, teasing with their family with an uncomfortable force. They wanted everyone distracted for the day.

"Maybe not alright. I'm worried about Ginny and all the other kids going off to a castle crawling with Death Eaters," you conceded. A half-truth. It would be Madam Pomfrey's first time completely alone in the Hospital Wing after three years of your help. She didn't need you, of course, she was more than capable of doing her job before you'd even been thought into existence. But you could imagine this year would be more of a strain than any other she'd experienced.

More than the year He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hid behind the turban of Qurrial.

More than the year the Chamber of Secrets opened and petrified Muggleborns.

More than the year dementors roamed the grounds.

More than the year of the Triwizard Tournament.

More than the year Dolores Umbridge tortured kids in detention.

Even more than the last year that ended with Death Eaters storming the castle.

“We’re all worried,” he said, shielding his face from his siblings to hide his frown. “I—I tried to talk her out of going. Told her we wouldn’t mind going into hiding. But she’s stubborn.”

“Stubborn is a famous Weasley trait, isn't it?” It was meant as a joke, but it came out too dry. If there was anything you knew it was how stubborn a Weasley could be.

“Suppose it is.” He laughed softly as his sister ramed her shoulder into George's side, sending him toppling into the water. "Can you do me a favor?"

You side eyed him, knowing not to trust anything he asked of you. You'd seen plenty of people in the Hospital Wing after doing favors for him and George.

"Forget about it all for a few hours. Try to enjoy what's left of today." You looked back to the water. George and Ginny squabbled over the Quaffle. Bill was standing to the side, his face turned towards where you sat at the beach. "If not for yourself, then for Ginny."

Fred stood then, sand sticking to his trunks. Extending his hand, he smiled expectantly. "Let's go challenge Ginny and George to a chicken fight, yeah?"

Your response was automatic. "George is not cleared to have that sort of pressure on his ear."

"He's totally fine though!"

You scoffed, finally taking his hand to stand. "He is not! He has a hole where his ear should be."

"Oh, come on, love," he said, watching as you dusted sand off yourself, "can't we be a bit ear-responsible today?"

A smile fought to take hold of your lips and you had to look away from his triumphant gleam. "No George. But Bill did promise me a game."

"Oh, Ginny'll be stoked about that." He took your hand again, dragging you into the cold water. "Oy, you lot! Time for a good ole' game of chicken fight, yeah?" George cheered. "Not you though, Georgie Boy. Our little healer says you've got to sit this one out." George booed.

"She's with me," Bill said, nodding at you.

Fred tugged you closer, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "Fat chance on that, mate!"

"Does no one want me as their partner?" Ginny pouted. She didn't seem very serious, but it was enough for Bill to concede. It wasn't enough, however, to keep him from warning his brother that one inappropriate joke would end up with him sent back to the Burrow. Fred's promise of good behavior did little to soften the eldest's irritation.

He was jealous.

Ridiculously jealous.

Ginny suffered for it. What should have been an easy win for her, turned into a struggle with Bill constantly losing balance in the waves sending them both crashing down with the slightest push. Ginny still managed to bring you down a few times, but Fred was steady on his feet. It was Ginny, pushing hair and water out of her face as she stood back up again, who suggested a partner change.

Fred was reluctant to let you go. Didn't the two of you make an excellent team, after all? But you worried Bill might snap, the blue in his eyes barely visible with how wide his pupils had grown.

"It's just a game," you reminded him lowly before he knelt down in shallow water to let you climb on. He gave no response beyond a content hum when your thighs pressed against his face. This time it was Bill who suffered. More so than Ginny had. How, exactly, were you supposed to focus on a game when his hands were on you?

Fred took the wins with all the modesty of a Gryffindor. His boasting you could handle, but his attention focusing on you, trying to flirt like he always would was detrimental to Bill’s health. And his.

It was Molly’s fretting over George getting sand in his ear that gave a perfect excuse to ease the tension. Physicals. Everyone needed one. See how George's ear had been healing, check no one had come under the Imperius Curse. It’s what you were supposed to do in the morning with Bill, anyways. One by one you examined the Weasley's in the room you'd occupied upstairs. Molly was the first, voicing her concerns over each of the others. Arthur came next. He was silent, only answering questions asked. Then it was Ginny. She cried. She'd tried not to, but she was sixteen and the world had fallen apart around her. A small drop of Essence of Dittany cleared up the redness in her eyes before she returned to her family. Fred and George were together, amusing themselves with their banter.

And last was Bill. The door hadn't been shut more than a second before you were pressed against it.

"It's all in my head." His kiss was soft, but desperate. "It's all in my head," he repeated against your lips. Your fingers brushed a strand of his hair back into place. "It's just Fred being Fred. He doesn't know."

"Maybe we should tell him."

You chuckled, but he didn't. "Bill."

His response was to trail kisses along your jaw.

"Bill," you said firmer, pushing lightly against his chest. "We're not telling him. Or anyone."

"Why not?"

"Because how do we explain…this?"

"We don't have to explain. We tell them we're together and that's all."

Your heart clenched. It was one thing for you to know that you were filling the voids left by the war, but for the world to see that? No one would believe you were together for anything beyond convenience and desperation. It would be easier to explain the truth. "I'm not going to lie to everyone about what this is."

He pulled back, turning away and running a hand through his hair. "Right." He plopped on the bed. "You're right. You're not going to lie to anyone that we're together when we're not. I'll keep my emotions in check."

"It's not like we're going to have people here often. We'll be alone again in a few hours."

He nodded, blinking up at you in a neutral expression. "You're right. We should get on with the physical. It's part of the deal for you staying, isn't it?"

“Fine.” You went through the motions, checking him over. He was fine, a little better than normal even. His heart rate was accelerated, but considering his day that wasn’t much of a surprise. His mood has somewhat recovered before you returned to his family, thanking you with a searing kiss.

An extra chair had been transfigured from some old driftwood to add a seventh seat at the table for dinner. Fred and George had tried to take the side with three chairs, hoping to trap someone between them. But Molly was far too used to their antics and sent them to the other side to sit by themselves. Ginny was a buffer between you and Bill, his father beside him and Molly next to you at the ends. Ginny kept you talking throughout most of the meal Molly had made, asking as discreetly as she could about healing spells.

“It was so nice to come here today,” Molly said, dabbing a napkin under her eyes. “I’m so glad you suggested it, Ginny.”

“It was lucky dad needed to come today.”

George asked, mouth full. “Why did you need to come today?” Fred, needing to be part of the conversation too, asked, “Yeah, what’d ya have to tell Bill?”

You were going to let it be a family squabble, but Arthur made the mistake of looking at you and averting his gaze too quickly. “Bill?”

“I don’t think now is the appropriate time to discuss it,” Arthur said.

Bill disagreed. “Cillian went to his office. Asking questions about you.”

Comments and reblogs make my day!

Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @voiddylanobrosey @kyla-hale-blog @pearlsofme @minstens @sofrian @sheeple @alldaysdreamers @hotleaf-juice @elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @itshardbeingamultistan @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter @cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable @psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian @pink-hufflepuff @queen-of-elves @bountydroid @solkee @m-rae23 @queenofbeingdepressed @smolmexicangirl @manzanosstuff @hungrhay @mae-foster @seb-buckybarnes @idga-fudgeicle

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc @bluegiraffeplushie e @pancakefancake

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x you #bill weasley #bill weasley x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #before i knew you

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justkidneying · 2 months ago

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Why the Spleen Sucks

The spleen is a really shittily placed organ, making it prone to injury. This injury is usually severe and can lead to death if not properly managed. We're going to look at the function of the spleen, what happens when it is damaged, and how to write about.

Where is the spleen? It's in the upper left quadrant of the abdominal cavity, nestled right against the ribs (typically 9-11) at the midaxillary line. It's behind the stomach and is considered intraperitoneal. The main thing is that the spleen is very vulnerable. It is literally right up against the ribs without much protecting it. It's shaped like a little bean and is purple in humans. It is fed by the splenic artery, which comes off of the celiac trunk (which sticks off of the abdominal aorta).

What does the spleen do? Its main job is to filter out old and malformed red blood cells. It also holds immune cells. Certain diseases can cause the spleen to enlarge, including cirrhosis of the liver (it's connected to the hepatic portal system), sickle cell anemia (RBCs are stuck in it), and autoimmune disorders. The spleen also holds about 250 mL of RBCs in reserve in case you need them.

What happens when it is injured? The spleen can be ruptured and lacerated kinda easily. Blunt trauma to the ribs can cause it to rupture, and this is seen in contact sports and car accidents mostly. Because of those giant gaps between the ribs, it's also prone to injury from knife attacks. Gunshot wounds are another common cause, as well as broken ribs penetrating it (broken ribs are very sharp, like way sharper than you imagine). Rupture is more likely when someone has splenomegaly.

When the spleen is damaged, you're going to get a lot of intraperitoneal hemorrhaging. The spleen filters a lot of blood and has blood in it, so there's going to be a lot of blood in the abdomen (obviously). This will lead to distention, guarding (abs are tense), and hypovolemia. The left upper quadrant will be painful, and there can also be referred pain to the left shoulder (Kehr's sign).

If the patient has a small laceration, the symptoms aren't always as dramatic. Sometimes they'll just have low hemoglobin (which is on RBCs), maybe some thrombocytopenia (lots of platelets in the blood).

How do you fix this? If the injury is small and the patient is hemodynamically stable, they can usually be given a blood transfusion and the spleen can heal itself. Sometimes surgery is also performed to clamp a vessel or repair the outer layer of the spleen.

If the injury is major, then surgery will be performed. If the patient is less critical, they may go in and try to fix the problem. If it can't be fixed, they may do a splenectomy (remove the spleen). In a critical patient, they might forgo the nice pretty incision on the left side, and instead just split the patient down the middle. In these situations (in my experience), there isn't a lot of time to waste. One thing that we aren't going to waste time on is anesthesia, for example. This is with a lot of very critical surgeries, at least from what I have seen. Like the surgeon will start cutting as they are working on knocking out the patient, but usually they are in so much pain that they don't even register it.

If you remove the spleen, the patient is more at risk for infections, but with modern medicine and vaccinations, it's not as much of a big deal as it used to be. The patient will probably be fine.

Writing tips: (new section idea, hope you guys like it, lol) As with any injury, you have to make sure that you are giving them an acceptable mechanism of injury. With the spleen, this is either blunt trauma or penetration/laceration. Getting tackled, getting stabbed, getting shot, all great MOIs.

Second thing, present the appropriate signs and symptoms. A sign would be like bruising, hypotension, tachycardia, etc. A symptom would be LUQ pain, Kehr's sign, etc.

Next, figure out what you're going to do and where you're going to do it. In the field, there probably isn't much you can do. The most would probably be a laparotomy and clamping the splenic artery, but I mean, when I was an EMT, we were not doing this. There's a lot of stuff you can theoretically do, but never gets done. But I mean you can write it. If the patient makes it to the hospital, I think it would be more fun to do emergency surgery and just split them right down the middle. There's going to be a lot of blood in the greater omentum, very high stakes and exciting.

Anyways, hope you guys liked this, please let me know if I got anything wrong. I wrote this off of my personal experience and a few good textbooks, but there can always been mistakes in things.

#medicine #med student #medical school #biology #med school #med studyblr #whump writing #anatomy #spleen #hospital whump #surgery #emergency medicine #medical writing #writing reference #injury

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matan4il · 9 months ago

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Daily update post:

The Wall Street Journal is reporting that a message from Yahya Sinwar (the Hamas leader inside Gaza) was passed to Hamas leaders who live outside of it, and the essence of that is not to worry, because Sinwar believes they have Israel exactly where they want it. In other words, when Hamas is estimated by Israel to have at least 12,000 of its terrorists killed, and despite the fact that they could stop the death of Gazans by releasing the Israeli hostages and surrendering, Sinwar doesn't see any issues with where the war is at. I think the most important part is this: "According to the report, Sinwar also told the Hamas officials that the terror group is prepared for Israel’s expected operation in Rafah, the Gaza Strip’s southernmost city, and is relying on the high civilian death toll reported by the Hamas-run health ministry to cause enough global outcry that Israel is forced to withdraw" (my emphasis). At what point do people realize that they are serving the interests of Hamas' mass murderers, kidnappers and rapists?

A few days ago, I wrote about the attempt to allow aid trucks into northern Gaza directly from Israel, instead of bringing it to the south, and waiting for Gaza-based elements to deliver it to the north. This means an escort of Israeli soldiers is accompanying the trucks. This is the route the aid trucks cross:

Today, these aid trucks were stormed by a huge crowd, and according to the IDF, many people died from pushing and trampling (at the link you can see aerial video footage of the stampede), not an unheard of phenomenon when a huge herd of people all rush in at the same time. On top of that, some Gazans were also advancing at the soldiers securing the aid trucks. The soldiers felt undr threat, and they opened fire at those charging at them, but according to their estimate, this accounts for only 10 of the dead. Still, you can count on the anti-Israel crowd to adopt a narrative that, immediately and without investigation, calls this a massacre and blames every single death on Israel, not on Hamas, which started the war that made even aid supply into a dangerous and complicated situation.

Here's a reminder that even in the middle of the war, when no one is paying attention to it, Israel continues to demolish illegal homes built by Jews. But you're never gonna hear about it, not even during more normal times, because it doesn't fit the anti-Israel narrative, so anti-Israel sources will only ever tell you about it, when Israeli demolishes illegal homes built by Arabs.

As threats to British Members of Parliament (MPs) are rising due to threats from the anti-Israel crowd, the UK has allocated bodyguards to some of them, along with 31 million pounds designated for the security of British democracy. If some of the most powerful people in Britain are that scared, what do you think Jews there are going through? Indeed, today we heard that 72 million pounds are meant to help secure Jewish centers and institutions in the UK. The problem is that until the root of the problem will be tackled, this is just taking care of the symptoms, instead of curing the disease.

Israeli security forces have stopped two Palestinian cousins, one 17 years old and the other 29 years old, from carrying out an independent terrorist attack. I refer to such attacks as independent in order to point out that they're not a part of some greater plot, unlike every single terrorist attack on Oct 7, which were all interconnected, and rocket attacks since, which are launched as a part of the war that Hamas started waging against Israel. However, some of these attacks ARE connected to Hamas. Apparently, these two cousins contacted Hamas in Gaza to get help in committing their intended crime.

This is 59 years old Michel Nissenbaum.

He made alyiah on his own from Brazil when he was 13 years old. Friends say that coming to Israel saved him. He worked in hi-tech, as well as a tour guide, and volunteered with Bedouin kids. Here he is with one such group:

On Oct 7, Michel heard that the Re'im IDF base was under attack from Hamas terrorists. Knowing that his granddaughter was there, visiting her dad, Michel decided to go there and get her out. While he was making his way to the base, he stopped responding to messages. His granddaughter was rescued from the place hours later, but Michel himself had disappeared. He's believed to be kidnapped in Gaza, but his family is scared, because he wasn't spotted in any of the pics or vids released by Hamas.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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howlsofbloodhounds · 2 days ago

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I need to see more content of Color matching Killer's freak, and not just in terms of suggestive themes.

Obviously he's not direct or loud about it, obviously it's not easy reading that off of a person like him, but I imagine Killer would pick up early that Color's a bit of a freak cause why the hell else would he be trying to help him so much? Freak recognizes freak. Freakception. It's just kind freak on fire vs knife freak, that's what this has become.

Color is the subtle kind of freak. There is always a 50/50 chance that if Killer's got an urge, Color's gonna indulge it and act like he always does in the process. He is a "go with the flow" kind of guy on the surface until he decides to rip off that facade. His friends already know how freakish he is to a certain extent but it's people like Killer, Epic, and Delta that truly do vibe with it in their own ways.

Killer would want more of it and look for ways to encourage Color's "dark side", Delta would compete with it, and Epic would think of any punchline to add to how hilarious he finds it.

This is a group of equally as unhinged men.

The signs of Color's freak would be evident to Killer long before he decides to take up Color's offer in leaving Nightmare behind. He would pick up those signs and use them against him, specifically during arguments or fights where Killer accuses him of having crude ulterior motives.

And Color giving him little to no reactions on that basis would not only infuriate Killer but also fascinate him even more than he already was. Cause he can't always tell whether or not a comment set something off in Color's mind, or if there really was nnothing.

And then as time continues to pass, that is when Killer's observations start to make sense. He and Color are a lot more alike than he previously thought, well beyond the "we both used to be Sans and got fucked over by the same stupid kid" commonality.

They both have deeply-rooted trauma from two of the same fucking child. While Color was eventually provided with the resources to start healing, Killer was routinely denied those resources.

Perhaps Color has one of those warped bouts of hyena-like laughter too, except while Killer has it casually, it's a red flag coming from Color as it's indicative of a panic attack, complete breakdown, or weak attempt at stress relief following either of those things.

They both struggle at showing vulnerability because of their trauma. Killer hides that in multiple shitty ways while Color has had several years of therapy and a solid support system and because of that developed a stable "fake it till you make it" mask for only the worst case scenarios where he can't catch a break soon enough. (He's had to use that mask A LOT in dealing with Killer before he left Nightmare)

Think Stage 3 doesn't have enough reasons to regard Color as a source of safety? They've both got distinct animalistic traits and behaviors, and Color dedicated the patience and time to let Stage 3 learn that at its own pace. Stage 3 finds a mutual understanding with Color that it can't with anyone else BECAUSE of the effort and comfort Color provided.

And what about the fact that they've both lost their sense of identity and since gaining freedom had to gradually make a new one with the shards they managed to salvage? They both aim to keep some aspects of "Sans", but can never truly be "Sans" again. They've both grown past the point of ever being the exact same as they were decades, perhaps hundreds of years before.

In various ways both before and after escaping their traumas, they are both in constant physical, mental, and emotional pain. Some conditions simply have no cure, no medication to soothe their symptoms.

They are so similar yet so different. So of course Color would match Killer's freak. Under calm and casual circumstances he'd agree with (Stage 2) Killer's accusation of him being a masochist and Killer would be caught off guard because he was aiming to make Color angry. But instead Color gives him that simple admission with no strings attached.

Like golly gee fuck, Killer, it's almost like he has to be one in order to cope with the amount of agony he deals with every day. Speak for yourself, motherfucker.

Unhinged freaky old men is where it’s at.

People look at the chromatic crew and think Color’s the odd one out, that he’s the hinged one, but definitely not.

Bro probably finds it comforting and reassuring when killer licks away his tears 💀. Mans would be so willing to indulge nearly anything killer wants to try or do, and he’d likely enjoy most of it.

Need more of Color matching Killer’s freak and rolling with it. Wonder if Color ever surprises Killer sometimes.

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anameistoohard · 9 months ago

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Oh boy, lets open that can of worms

There's a LOT of discourse with endo vs anti-endo stuff (endogenic system=plural system not formed by trauma if you don't know 🙂). Like, death threats coming from both sides kinda thing. We try to stay out of it. But it's easy to accidentally stumble into it if you're not familiar with some of the nuance. So we want to share some observations as like, a crash course. (And apparently we had a lot to say lol.)

This post isn't really to debate how plurality forms. Just to give some context as to why so much hate is flying between these two groups.

Basically, you have 2 extremes. (And everyone in between obviously)

On one side you have people making up extra rules on top of the diagnostic criteria to exclude and gatekeep anyone who doesn't meet "their level" of disordered. (I've literally heard people say "you can't be a system, you're not as traumatized as me"). A lot of accusations of faking come from this bunch. Too much internal communication? Faker. Too many non-human alters? Faker. Too many or not enough alters? Faker. You can't win with them even if you have a diagnosis.

We've noticed a lot of parallels between this group and transmeds. You need to have x level of dysphoria to ride this ride. You can't be trans if you don't want xyz treatment. You need to reach my arbitrary bar of "trans enough". Enbys and everyone else are fakers. That kind of bs.

But on this side you also have a lot of people who just want to be taken seriously. They want to be validated by their diagnosis and feel hurt when people say or do things that they think will compromise that validity. They, at least initially, come from a place of sincerity not malice. But they fall into the trap of trying to be "one of the good ones".

On the other extreme you have the wild west. Things people treat as fact aren't codified with the same scrutiny as the DSM-5 or ICD-11. This breeds its own confusion and misinformation. We've seen people conflate plurality with things like maladaptive day dreaming, lucid dreaming, adhd, and (applying it to other people with ferocity to the point of harassment) metaphors of all things.

They have a spaghetti at the wall approach that reminds me of a less extreme MOGII (an attempt to define just about every possible form of gender and sexuality). It's a messy patchwork of ideas. We've seen 8 different labels that all mean the same thing and are being used by exactly no one. Redundancy and hyperspcificity, that's the name of the game. But frankly we like this if for no other reason than we want to see what sticks, what becomes mainstream.

We've seen people from this group attack people as badly as the anti-endo group. Openly mocking people for having trauma or saying vile shit like "traumagenics kys". They feel threatened by the exclusionary nature of diagnoses. But instead of taking their frustration out on the systems of power they take them out on normal people. After all if you're diagnosed, you "represent the system"... I guess. Equally bull shit.

But this is also where the edge cases go, the exclusions, those that don't fit into a neat little box. The DSM excludes people whose plurality is accepted as part of their culture or religion. These people don't suddenly stop being systems just because they're accepted, but they're distinctly not disordered. They don't meet the clinical definition of DID or OSDD. Same goes for someone whose symptoms are mild enough to not cause "clinically significant distress". You also have people who don't want to be pathologized or have been failed by the medical system.

So lastly, a warning: When dealing with plural stuff, it's very easy to go stumbling into a mine field.

Tldr: I would always rather land on the side of letting too many people in than exclude people who needed the support. However, no matter your in-group, some people take things too far. Like, ffs don't attack people.

-Taylor & Mark

#not giving this any proper tags cause I don't want a fucking maelstrom of hate coming at us lol #long post #this might be a bad idea

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pienhime · 3 months ago

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im gonna say something ppl say is problematic:

a dress saying it can make u look 5kg slimmer faster than you can get surgery to actually become 5kg slimmer isnt "fatphobic" or "pro-ana". its a tongue in cheek over-exaggerated way of saying the dress is very flattering and creates the illusion of a slimmer body. wanting a slimmer body isnt always (or even usually) indicative of having an eating disorder. most people want to wear clothes that flatter them! but the words "plastic surgery" and "diet" have triggered kneejerk "omg so problematic!!!" reactions.

also, even *if* it were ED related, being mad a jirai influencer made something related to a mental disorder and not in an "uwu ur so valid but also just stop having symptoms and unhealthy behaviors bc thats problematic and ur mental illness will spread" way is sooooo braindead. "i get some jirais want to protect the lifestyle but-" wrong, the people in the jirai kei subculture want to keep people who judge and shit on the culture of jirai kei (mental illness community thats neither pro nor anti recovery, even indicates in its name that it may be toxic or unhealthy) while wearing the styles we commonly wear but calling them all "jirai kei fashion" instead of their OG names bc the tag is more popular and claiming it makes them a part of our culture OUT of our subculture. because its already gotten bad enough that ppl who do use the OG names for things get attacked, and jirai girls are looked down on and called weird and problematic by the people who want to call themselves one of us while treating jirai subculture as a costume. fuck off and leave us alone people, the name of the subculture says its toxic!! idk what influencer lied to u ab that being "just a stereotype" and not the core of the subculture, or that jirai kei is the name of a spwcific new fashion and "the lifestyle" is separate, but you should be mad at them, not us.

#my post #vent #jirai kei #ziraichan #ank rouge #tw weight mention #jirai girl #landmine type #landmine girl #jfashion #jiraiblr #pienblr

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ghostybaby000 · 7 months ago

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He found you. Again. | Part 2

part 1 part 3

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: He had found you and now you had seconds to react. Continuation to part one!

Warnings: 18+, stalker, symptoms of panic, knives, blood, violence

Word count: 2.2k

(Not fully edited, apologies for an incorrect information!)

You lurched forward trying your hardest to slam the door. He stepped forward just before you had and was pushing his way inside, he was far stronger than you had hoped. Your body weight pressed against the door pushing as hard as you could against the wooden floor, barely gaining any traction.

In that moment you wished you had gotten yourself a dog, or a roommate, any sort of protection against this ever happening. You’re now pushing with every bit of force you can quickly straining the muscles in your legs and back, when you see the rectangular table next to the door- there’s keys in a dish on the table with a few other things scattered around a lamp.

If you could just reach it, maybe you had a chance.

It was too late for all this noise, what was going on?

The hall had never been this loud before at this hour, there were grunts coming from the hall, along with what sounded like distant slamming. This however was different, and aggressive at that-there were bursts of heaving weight on a door along with, sobs?

He couldn’t be hearing this correctly, there weren’t any other men that lived on this floor that were comparable to his size or stature, that he knew. He also hadn’t seen you on the floor with anyone before, let alone with a boyfriend which he is confident he would remember. You were the only one that was down that way of the hall which was practically abandoned besides the two of you and a few other older residents.

Ghost hadn’t been sleeping much not that he ever did, but felt he had been laying in bed listening for about a minute when he sat up straight, now a small concern slowly growing when he heard glass breaking and a shriek that didn’t sound good in any way. Suddenly he was masked up and lacing his boots, listening on the other side of his own door intensely.

He was gaining traction. You couldn’t think with the sweat beading down your face and the millions of thoughts flying through your head, not to mention the ache you were feeling through your entire body. You couldn’t manage to even think of the pain when you realized he was winning the efforts to push, you look back at the table then to the keys and the lamp.

You could grab the keys and attempt to stab him or maybe gouge at his eyes, but considering how tall he was it wasn’t likely; you would probably get grabbed and then who knows what could happen. The lamp. The taller but dense-based lamp that your mother had gotten for you as a moving-in gift, a gift you had never even considered would be used in this way but now you had no choice.

The table was about a foot out of your reach, and you knew you’d have to be quick. You give one final good push to the door before stepping out of the way to reach for the lamp allowing all of your body weight to disappear from behind the door. Your attacker hadn’t expected this and instead expected to slowly make progress to getting inside, now fumbling in the room after using both hands to push into the door.

You push your legs on the floor as fast as you can reaching the small table and ripping the lamp from the outlet you swing as hard as you can as you spin around, crashing the base of the lamp over the top of his back. You let the lamp fall after its broken over him creating a horrible crashing noise, along with his howl out in pain.

You try to think of where your phone could be while sprinting to the nearest room, the bathroom. Forget your phone there wasn’t any time and you knew it wasn’t worth the risk you begin ripping things from drawers or cabinets looking for anything you could use. And then you hear it, the door to the apartment shuts and locks as you hear his boots make their way across the house, thankfully in the other direction, for now.

Ghost had just started to make his way out of his out of his now cracked door when he saw what was happening and hesitated. The door was slightly cracked, only enough so that you could see out but it was too dark inside for anyone else to see in. A large man, probably around the 6 foot range, in dark clothes and boots coming out of your apartment with looked to be blood trailing down his neck and back. Ghost watched as the man peered down both halls for a few moments before making his way inside and locking the door, something wasn’t right.

Ghost collected a few things to get the lock picked and then a weapons of his own volition, a short blade that he carried often if not everywhere. He slipped the tools in his pocket and made his way down the hall, rushing ever so slightly and pressing his ear to the door he heard the man.

‘You really thought you could of stopped me?’ a small laugh rang out and it sounded now as if a table was being pushed against the other side of the door.

Now he was confident this person was not meant to be here, which meant he needed to get inside. For a moment he considered just calling the police and having them deal with it yet some feeling told him that they wouldn’t make it in on time, and that he would regret not trying to help.

‘I’ll find you, I’ve searched for far too long to let you slip away now.’ The voice was growing dimmer, getting deeper into the apartment. Without a moment of hesitation he began picking the lock to the door, not that it was very hard as the building manager preferred cheaper over safer. With a small click the lock was undone, the door was able to be opened but not yet, the door opened outwards and he would need a time gap to move what he thought was a table and make his own way inside.

You were now tip toeing through your narrow bathroom, taking a small stool that had once held toiletries trying to lodge it between the door and the cabinet attempting to keep it shut, no luck it was too big. Instead you grabbed a hot iron, hoping the cord would be enough if he got in the bathroom wrapping it around your small hands, although it was starting to feel more like when he would and not if. You silently made your way into the tub, now trying to steady your breathing and preparing yourself to jump on an attacker.

You shuttered as you heard his voice, now filled with a horrifying calamity began echoing through your small apartment.

‘Oh come out, please I won’t hurt you- I would never hurt you Y/N’

You heard a table clang to the ground, then the room down the hall to the bathroom opened, your room. He had thought you went in there, you had a few more minutes of precious time and immediately your eyes began to scan the small space. There was a window, but it was far too small and being on the fourth floor didn’t help if you wanted to get out that way. You could scream, call out for help and hope your bathroom handle lock would hold out until the police arrived-you shake your head to almost rid of the bad idea as you knew it wouldn’t work. You make your way slowly out of the tub and begin to look under the cabinets again glancing towards the back of the sink and that’s when you see the wrench.

This wrench had been here for a while once left by a water company who looked over the pipes and toilet that had been long forgotten since by them and you until now. You reach down and slowly pick it up making your way back to the tub. You now had a choice, try to strangle the man with the cord, or try hitting the man over the head again this time being sure to go back for seconds. You chose the wrench this way you didn’t have to get close, and you could at least throw it at him if he entered the room-

What If he does get in? You’re entirely cornered in this tiny bathroom with no way out and no where to run. Your breathing picked up and you felt lightheaded. You wouldn’t let yourself go down, and you certainly weren’t going to pass out now, no way was he getting it that easily.

You heard him going through the closet in your room, pushing things out of the way and knocking things over all the while. You hear him reappear and again the panic fills you, adrenaline and shock both fighting to take over your body.

You hear him now almost in front of the bathroom door, his boots scuffing against the floor as he moves, each time making you feel your stomach sinking farther. Then he stops, right outside the door. For what felt like an eternity you waited with your breath held tightly clamping the red and rusting wrench in your hands when he finally saunters off towards the office room at the opposite end of the hall.

‘I come all this way to not even get a hello from you? Well that isn’t very inviting of you Y/N. You should know that when a guest comes over its polite to say hello and maybe even ask if they want something to drink.’ He lets out a soft chuckle, which sounds father away as if he’s fully inside the office now.

‘You know, I missed you when you left…You LEFT me to go to school and then when you got back into town you leave me again I don’t understand why you keep leaving me.’ His tone begins to harshen as he swipes items off the desk in your office.

You squeeze your eyes shut trying to think of what you could do, do you sprint for the door and hope to make it out? Do you try and make it to the kitchen for a better weapon? Do you try to get back into your bedroom quietly and hide hoping he doesn’t re-check? You had decided.

You get out of the tub as slowly as possible, making sure to avoid the places on the floor you knew would creak after spending so much time here. You press your ear to the door hearing him still mumbling in the other room about you and hoping that you missed him.

Your hand that was now clammy with sweat gripped the doorknob, ready to lurch it open at the right time.

Ghost had now opened the door slightly, peering inside long enough to see the layout of the house, but couldn’t see the man. He didn’t try to move the table as he wanted to be as stealthy as possible, waiting to move it and instead getting to see the apartments layout. He can only see the kitchen and the start to the dining room on his left, a wall covering the rest of his vision on the right. He assumed the layout was similar to that of his own apartment and that a long hallway would be on the other side that led to the bathroom, bedroom, and storage space.

Upon hearing the man continue to slam items down that very hallway, he slowly shut the door again listening, waiting for the man to be in a better position to attack, he didn’t want to be ambushed in a close corner environment.

You finally heard the man go through the larger closet in the room and decided it was now or never.

You allowed yourself to slowly open the door with your breath held you opened the door fully and began to step out. You made it down the hall and towards the kitchen, when you heard a loud creaking. The floor. You had forgotten to mind your step in trying to make distance quickly and stepped in a loud spot on this horrible, horrible wooden floor. Your eyes immediately sprang open, practically choking on your heartbeat, your hands shaking worse than ever you hear him.

‘There she is…Ah yes, my Y/N you’ve finally decided to say hello.’ His footsteps slow as he makes his way down the hall towards you. You think you panic you try to do whatever imaginable to make the situation stop, but there was no time.

When he comes out, he sees you, only the thin couch and coffee table now separating you and your attacker. You stop for a second to see how tall and built he is, only making your hands and breathing shake worse.

‘You look so beautiful, as you always have. Finally I get the chance to be here with you, so so close to you.’ He begins to make his way around the couch and towards you.

‘Y-You stay away from me you monster!’ You wished in this moment your voice would sound more courageous and fear-evoking, although you knew that it would do no such thing.

‘You leave me alone- just LEAVE PLEASE leave’ You feel the sting of tears in your eyes as your voice begins to break more, now gripping the wrench so hard it made your hands cramp, you didn’t feel the pain though as the only thing in your mind was fear.

‘Now, I’ve come all this way just to see you why would I just leave? I can’t leave no-no. I cant leave you, y-you’ll be here, with me. I won’t leave, NO I won’t leave because if I do YOU will leave me again and we don’t want that.’ His hands and his pace both moving quickly, pacing the room his hands going through his hair which you now took time to notice had streaks of blood in it.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #call of duty fanart #ghost mw2 #cod fanfic #books #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n

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dreaming-of-mossballs · 8 months ago

Text

Porridge for— you guessed it— A Bashful Captain (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: After hearing the shocking news that Gepard is sick, Serval entrusts you with the task of making sure he doesn’t burn himself out while no one is watching. Good luck with that.

▸ Genre(s): fluff

▸ Word Count: 5k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions

A/N: I’ve been struggling to get my posts to show in the tags, so let me know if you want to be taglisted! It’s really demotivating seeing my work get demolished by the algorithm.

MASTERLIST

How nice it was to have a moment of respite after a long and arduous campaign.

At least, that’s what the captain wished he could say.

Every muscle in his body seemed to be screaming at him to stay in bed after he woke up that morning. His throat felt like it had been scraped with steel wool and then some. Plus, his body felt chilled, even after piling far more than the usual number of blankets on his bed.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” Serval had said. Aeons, she was right.

Gepard vaguely registered the fact that this combination of symptoms spelled disaster, but nevertheless, he had to get up. He drew in a deep breath in an attempt to gather the strength to hoist himself out of bed, but the air seemed to have invisible barbed wire that scoured his already painful lungs. He broke into a hacking cough that echoed throughout the estate and immediately sat up to cover his mouth with his elbow.

A knock on the door drew him out of his misgivings.

“Young master Gepard?” A concerned voice— which belonged to one of the maids— called.

Although the captain felt like his stomach was churning like butter, he shifted the blankets aside and treaded towards the door. Even the estate felt dreary that morning as the sunlight reaching through the window was weak and scattered (Due to a thick cloud covering, indicating an impending snowstorm.) The expensive plush carpet on the floor of the room did little to ease his newfound dislike of standing upright.

How silly he felt, a man who trudged through waist-deep snow on the daily, was now reduced to a sniveling mess in his family home. Gepard, still rubbing his nose, opened the wooden door slightly.

The shock on the maid’s face was evident as she caught her first glimpse of him. He really did look worse for wear, his golden hair was unkempt, his complexion was pale, and he had to lean on the doorframe to keep the room from swaying and bending inwards and—

“Um— young master. I heard you coughing,” she blurted out, eyeing his drooping eyelids. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water?”

Gepard raised his voice to respond but instead let out a ghastly wheeze followed by coughing that sounded like thunder. He turned his head away so as not to catch her in the blast.

“Y-yes, please,” He resumed looking at her. “That would be much appreciated,”

His voice was uncomfortably hoarse. She glanced up at him. “Would you like it with lemon or without?”

The young man didn’t get a chance to respond. His calloused hand slid down the doorframe, his vision went fuzzy—

—and then everything went dark.

The maid’s shriek echoed off the walls, causing the sparrows that perched on the windowsills to take to the sky.

Her voice turned heads, both maids and butlers alike, all throughout the manor.

(It is said that they still speak about it to this day, much to her chagrin.)

❆ — ❆ — ❆

You were convinced that work was going to give you a heart attack.

With the Solwarm festival upcoming, flower sales practically exploded. Your job as a florist was a source of many joys, but even you had your limits. Your hands were permanently stained with a mix of red and orange from all the Solarflowers you’d been handling. It looked like brilliant flames adorned your arms, but it lost its novelty after you realized you couldn’t wash it off, even with industrial strength soap.

And you had a catch-up with Gepard in three days. Just great.

He’d sent the invitation through a surprise letter a week before he came home. He said he’d be busy for a bit with mission debriefings and yada yada, but he’d like to meet at Serval’s for lunch once he got the chance.

Couldn’t he have just texted me? You snorted when you opened it. Those nobles. (You betted that he’d never gone on a date that was anything other than a fancy matchmaking dinner.)

But then you realized that was dumber than dumb. He wasn’t allowed to have his cell phone on military expeditions. You nearly smacked yourself with the first edition copy of the Gardener’s Almanac in shame.

You cast a mournful, longing glance through the paned glass windows and out at Qlipoth fort. Of course Gepard had ten thousand meetings to attend to after getting home.

A pang of pity reverberated throughout your chest. Didn’t he at least deserve a short break? He was like a herding dog that never got a day off.

You looked up from where your head was resting on the counter, feeling the warmth of a Solarflower bouquet spread across your face almost like a blush. Handing the customer’s change across the counter whilst simultaneously stifling a heartbroken sigh wasn’t much, but it was one of the hardest things you’d done all day.

I am so. Friggin. Tired. You groaned. The overcast weather was really getting to your mood.

A clatter came from the back, which caused you to prick your ears.

“Hey, (Y/N)? The plumbing in the upstairs sink broke. We’re missing the right kind of wrench. Would you mind going out and grabbing it?” Meg spoke.

“Sure,” you perked your eyebrows, eager to escape your thoughts for a split second. “What kind is it?”

Your boss handed you a paper with the details, and you swung your florist’s bag over your shoulder with newfound gusto. A trip to Serval’s workshop was exactly what you needed.

The breeze outside the shop was stagnant. It made you shudder. You couldn’t control the weather, but you could sure as hell skip to the shop to spite the bad hand you’d been dealt recently.

The bronze shop bell dinged to announce your entry. And Serval, the owner of the Neverwinter Workshop, was fast asleep on a pile of papers.

That can’t be comfortable,

“Hey, Serv—,”

She shot up from her desk faster than you could blink.

“Welcome to Neverwinter Workshop! What can I— Oh! (Y/N)! Sorry about that, I just uh… dozed off for a bit,”

You chuckled. “Not a problem. I just came by for an 18x18mm wrench. Would you happen to have one of those?”

Molly, the assistant, peeked her head in from the back. “Only a few hundred of them,”

You stared back, flabbergasted. “Why so many?”

“Miss Serval put an extra zero on the order form,” she said with a shrug.

Serval looked at you sheepishly, her blue eyes filled to the brim with embarrassment. You shot her a glance loaded with concern.

“Have you been getting enough rest?” You inquired.

“Yeah, totally! Well… The band and I have been pretty busy with rehearsal lately. Y’know, with the Solwarm festival coming up and all—,” She waved a hand in the air dismissively. “—anyways, the person who’s case you should REALLY be on is Gepard’s,”

You lifted an eyebrow at her attempt to deflect the blame. “Yeah? And why is that?”

She paused, not paying you the slightest crumb of attention before she let out an planet-shaking yawn.

“Huh? Oh, he’s sick. Real nasty case. He got it from Pela,”

“Jeez. Seriously?” You exclaimed. “That sucks. I hope he gets better soon,”

She blinked slowly and tiredly. “Yeah, yeah. We do too. He actually passed out this morning,”

Your eyes went wide.

“He WHAT???”

“Ah, well, he passed—,”

“Nope, nope, nope. I got it,” you said, rubbing your temples while staring at the floor. “Holy crap. It must be really bad then. Did he have to go to the hospital?”

Serval shook her head. “Nope, thank Qlipoth. Lynx has had to crash here so she doesn’t catch it,”

You glanced around the workshop. “She has? Where is she?”

Your friend pointed at a stack of cardboard boxes stacked beside a shelf.

“Right there,”

And clear as day, you spotted the white tufts of fur from Lynx’s hat sticking out of her sleeping bag.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

“Okay… So, let me get this straight. Gepard returned home and promptly passed out,” You gripped the edge of the reception desk so hard you thought it might splinter. “Is anyone keeping him from going to the meetings or… anything?”

“Well, yeah. He knows well enough not to spread his sickness around. What I can’t say for sure though is that he’s not forcing himself to do paperwork… and stuff,” Serval hummed to herself, sorting through another stack of papers that had been rearranged from her catnap.

You let out a withering sigh. “Someone’s gotta stop him,”

Picking up your phone, you hurriedly dialed his number. After far too many seconds, you flopped helplessly onto the desk. No answer.

“Ugh. Can’t we like… call Dunn or the household or something?” You said weakly.

“I thiiink you may be blowing this one out of proportion,” she grinned, showing her pointy canines. “Why don’t you stop by if you miss him so much? You can knock some sense into him or whatever,”

She smirked as she saw embarrassment seep into your face.

Aha! So you DO miss him,

“Yeah, if warp trotters fly, maybe,” you tried to hide your expression by running a palm over your face. “I can’t just show up unannounced,”

“You sure can! I do it all the time,” she said cheerfully. “Usually when the man of the house isn’t there, though,” A look of distaste flashed in her eyes.

“The head butler has a good memory. He should remember you. Say I sent you—,” she perked up. “Oh! Here, I’ll write you a note,”

The blonde-haired woman yanked open a wooden drawer with an ear-piercing screech and lifted a notepad and pen out from its confines. She scrawled something out quickly.

“This should do,”

You squinted at the note skeptically.

I hereby authorize (Y/N), a friend of Gepard’s, to check up on him and make sure he isn’t working himself to death,

Signed,

Serval

[A strange doodle of a smiling face holding up a peace sign]

“Now go!” She shouted, practically pushing you out the door. “Go, go, go! You got this!”

“What—? Serval, I can’t—,”

“Yes you can! Call me if they don’t let you in. Rock on!”

She dropped you unceremoniously on the stone steps outside and slammed the door.

“Cheers!” Her muffled voice called.

I really should become a matchmaker, she snickered to herself.

You looked at the note once more and wilted.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Gepard’s residence was… exactly the same all the other times you had gone, maids and all.

It was still plenty overwhelming though. You brushed the wrinkles out of your tunic as you waited for someone to answer the door. It wasted no time swinging open with a force that could’ve flattened someone, had they been standing behind it.

You nearly squawked in fear. Didn’t these people know how to open a door normally?

While gripping your messenger bag, filled with a few things you had brought from home, you requested entry from the broad-shouldered man that answered. You had no trouble keeping your voice steady but your chest felt like it was being crushed under a metal boot as you faced him.

“Ah, yes. Anything for a friend of the young master!” The butler smiled warmly at you. He didn’t show any sign that he had picked up on your nervousness. Hah, you didn’t think you’d ever get over all these pairs of eyes on you each time you came.

But wait— a friend? Hadn’t you told them each and every visit that you were a gardener he hired?

You bit the edge of your lip but kept your mouth shut.

He motioned you inside. “He’s been resting. Please, let us walk you up!”

You kept your eyes trained on the velvet carpet draped on the stairs as you followed him up. The floorboards squeaked softly under your soles.

When you got upstairs, the curly-haired man stopped in front of a particular door. “Just go on in,” he instructed.

You thanked him and rapped on the door lightly.

“Gepard?”

He looked up from his paperwork hurriedly from where it was bent over the desk to the source of your voice.

“It’s me. Serval sent me over to check if you were doing alright,” you said, leaning your head closer to the wood.

Gepard’s brows knitted together.

If she really wanted to, she could have busted my door down like last time.

He switched off the lamp and got out of his chair.

You heard a croak that sounded like “coming” and winced away from the door. Eek. He must be in really bad shape.

The door opened, causing a breeze to hit your face. After not seeing his face for a month, this wasn’t how you expected your first meeting to go.

By Qlipoth’s grace—, you clapped your hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from saying it out loud.

Gepard’s hair was messy and his cheeks were crimson. Locks of his golden hair covered his eyes, which were puffy and red. Better yet, he was wearing a matching set of blue and white striped pajamas. You nearly gawked. At least he wasn’t wearing his uniform if he wasn’t working.

He took in a quick breath to greet you but a harsh bout of coughing cut him off. Turning away from the door, he hacked into his elbow and tried to shut it.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you wedged your buckled boot into the space between the door and the frame. That swift action shocked him out of his coughing fit.

“A-apologies, I wasn’t expecting a visit. Please step away before I give you my illness,”

“Oh! That’s why you shut the door,” Your mouth went wide. “I thought you knew the real reason why I came!”

His eyes went wide as you used your forearm to force the door open wider, a vaguely threatening gesture.

What real reason?

“Forget what I just said,” you grinned while sauntering into the room. “Anyways, my immune system is great! I used to eat dirt when food was scarce in the Underworld. It’ll take a lot more than a cold to kill me,”

“Oh my. Is— is that so?” Gepard cleared his throat, forming a fist over his mouth. He followed a few steps behind you as you went about the room.

“Yessir. I came to say hi! Nothing more. Definitely not,” You chirped, looking around his quarters (not at all suspiciously, by the way.) “How are you feeling?”

Wait, didn’t you say Serval—?

He didn’t get to finish that thought.

“Well— all right, I suppose. A little lightheaded and feverish,” his eyes trailed your form moving about. “I took some medicine earlier, and my condition has improved some. Nothing a little rest won’t fix,”

You nodded, not sparing him a glance. “Yes. Rest. Glad to see we’re on the same page here, Gepard. Hey— you moved your bamboo plant in here!” You spotted a joyful little green plant in a pot on top of his desk.

He gave you a puzzled look. Your behavior was…strange, to say the least.

“Ah, yes. I moved it because—,”

—it reminded me of you, he narrowly stopped himself from saying.

“—I read that bamboo didn’t need as much light as I was giving it, so, I figured it would be fine if I transferred it,”

You bent your knees a little to take a closer look at it. “I see. The soil looks nice. Mind if I turn on the light to take a closer look?”

“Be my guest,”

You rotated the little key that controlled the lamplight. It flicked on, spreading a warm glow onto the books and papers on the desk. A glint reflected off a dollop of ink resting on a half-written paper.

You froze. That ink is fresh.

Bristling indignantly, you whisked your head towards him. He picked up the change in mood immediately and blanched.

“I thought you said you’d been resting,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I have,” He paused, confused. “Well—,”

“AHA!” You shouted. “I gotcha! This ink is fresh, Captain. Don’t think you can fool me,” You said triumphantly, placing your hands on your hips.

“Serval— she did send you, didn’t she?!” He sputtered. The usual stoic captain was nowhere to be seen as he rubbed the back of his neck in shame.

“Yes. She did. But also I would’ve come either way to make sure you weren’t wearing yourself out,” you snorted playfully. “She said it was highly likely you were doing paperwork. And paperwork IS. NOT. REST.” You shook a finger at him accusingly.

Gepard flinched slightly. “I’m not exerting myself physically, so there’s no need to worry, (Y/N). Really,”

The air around you seemed to grow dark. You cracked your knuckles, staring him straight in the face.

“Sit down. Now,”

He obliged, choosing to plunk down on his bed.

“I know it feels like you’re wasting time doing nothing, but your mind needs to recover too,” you shook your head disapprovingly while giving him an exaggerated sigh. “You should know that,”

You pulled up a chair in front of him and took a seat, facing the window so he was looking at your side profile.

“I don’t care if you’re the most capable man on Jarilo-VI—,”

—and it was pretty likely that he was,

“You need time to rest, just like everyone else,” you lectured, opening one eye to peer at him teasingly.

“Right,” Gepard replied, defeated. He had nothing against you.

“Did you even wear the scarf I gave you out there?”

“I did, but I didn’t want to dirty it,” he replied. You gave him a snort, which quickly turned into laughter.

“Aww. That’s thoughtful of you,” you flashed him a smile. “I made it knowing I might have to make you another one though. Or three. Just let me know if it gets too damaged to wear, okay?”

Gepard looked down at his striped pajama pants, a small smile crossing his features. “Thank you. I appreciate it,”

His chest almost hurt with all the things he wanted to say trying to fight their way out.

“No problem. If anything, you deserve it,” you sang. “On the other hand, have you eaten anything today?”

“I haven’t,” he rested his head on his chin. “I don’t seem to have an appetite, unfortunately,”

“I see. You should get something in ya though. Natasha told me your body could use the energy,” you stated knowledgeably.

He tried in vain to stamp down the feelings in his chest that sprouted from seeing your concerned expression.

For him. You cared about him.

Aeons, he didn’t deserve this.

“You can ask the cooks to make you some porridge or something,” you suggested. “I have some instant stuff, but it might not be to your liking,”

“I’m sure yours will be fine,” he rebutted quickly. “I’d be happy to eat it,”

You looked at him disbelievingly. I’ve never seen someone so determined to eat instant porridge,

His face stayed just how it was, his eyebrows weighing heavily on his eyes, just like twin anvils.

“Yeah, ok,” you let up. “Do you have a kettle or anything close by?”

“I believe there is one in the kitchen that they use for tea. You can ask the maids to retrieve it for you,” he motioned to the left.

You shook your head and got up. What use was it to call a maid for a trip that merely entailed going up and down the stairs? (Well, there were a stupid number of stairs, but that’s a whole other issue).

Kettle, bowl, spoon, and cloth napkin in hand, you bolted back upstairs to your patient. You plugged the kettle in and set it down on a towel so the heat didn’t damage the furniture.

Tapping your feet while you waited for the kettle to boil, you took a quick glance around the room. It told you a lot you needed to know about Gepard.

Firstly, he was relatively neat. Of course the areas of high traffic, like the bookshelves and the desk, were messier, but they hadn’t more than a few specks of dust on them. His uniform was hanging off of a dark oak armoire, and his military medals were pinned on a cork board attached to its door.

Secondly, there were quite a few pictures hanging on the walls. There were a few of him at awards ceremonies, at various ages. And one of him as a cadet— and wow— he was pretty short back then. He stood almost a whole head shorter than the other guards. You almost squealed with delight.

You turned back to him, noticing his eyes were glued to where you were staring. Oops.

You hurriedly apologized for staring so conspicuously at the photographs, but he shook his head at the statement. Photos were meant to be looked at, after all.

This quickly led to a slew of questions he wasn’t expecting, such as “How old were you when you joined the Guards?” And “Did Serval ever threaten to bench press you?”.

He almost laughed at that one. Probably. His nose wrinkled a little. Or whatever. You figured he’d finally laugh for real once the moons collided with Jarilo-VI.

The kettle began to whistle.

“Ah, water’s boiling,” you said, turning towards the outlet where it was plugged in.

Gepard had since settled down in bed, pulling the covers over his waist. You poured the piping hot water into the bowl carefully, the steam forming curls in the air, and covered it with a lid.

After a few minutes had passed, you set the bowl on a library book from your bag (Eek. Bad idea.) as a makeshift tray and stuck a spoon in it.

“Voilà. Enjoy!” You flung your arms in the air ostentatiously as he looked onward.

Gepard took a spoonful and blew on it gingerly. You watched him with an expectant look on your face. Although whether you were expecting something good or bad, you didn’t quite know.

He lifted it to his mouth and you zeroed in on him even harder.

“It’s delicious,” he said with conviction, meeting your eyes. You squinted at him.

“Um. Gepard, I think the fever is messing with your brain. Are you sure you can taste right now?”

“I’m sure,” he responded.

“No way!” You exclaimed, slapping your forehead. “Let me try— actually, wait. That’s a bad idea,” you sighed. “I’ll just have to believe you,”

The captain nodded affirmatively. He brought another spoonful up to his mouth and relished it, feeling the warmth spread across his tongue. You swore as you watched him savor it contentedly that you’d buy some on your way home to try for yourself.

While Gepard polished off the contents of his bowl, you yammered on about various events that had happened in Belobog while he was away. You had been saving them for when you got together for real, but you figured now was just as good a time as any.

Once he had finished, he rested the spoon on the side of the ceramic bowl.

“Thank you for coming to visit me, (Y/N),” he said gently.

“Someone had to,” you laughed while kicking your feet up. “When I heard you’d been bumbling about all day, I nearly had a heart attack!”

He ran a palm over his face, closing his blue eyes. “Yes— and I’m sorry for that,”

“I didn’t want to believe her, but you guys both have a tendency to push yourself way too hard, you know?”

“By her, you mean Serval?”

You pursed your lips at him.

“That’s how the Landaus are,” he exhaled heavily, letting out a small cough he quickly covered. “It’s… our duty to bring glory to our name, after all,”

You folded your arms. “Maybe by fighting valiantly or repairing automatons, but crawling through paperwork?? I don’t think so. Secretaries that want to help you are a dime a dozen. It’s a lot easier than risking your life in the Snow Plains,” you chortled.

“You’ve probably filled your glory quota for the next two centuries, Gepard,” you glowed. “Bronya and Pela know just how hard you work. You can always ask for help,”

Gepard sighed again. (He did that a lot.) You made a good point.

“I’m sure I’ll recover in no time, thanks to all of you,” he said sincerely. You imitated the sound of an explosion while opening your fist.

“Boom. Magic porridge,”

To your surprise, this elicited a short chuff from Gepard; This caused your breath to get lost somewhere in your throat.

It felt strange seeing him so unguarded in his bedroom with his hair unkempt, in contrast to the well-polished emblem of strength shown on the recruitment posters everywhere in the Administrative District.

You folded your hands over your lap contentedly, silently thanking Serval for clueing you in today. Out of the blue, Gepard spoke up.

“When I recover, would you like to go to the Belobog History and Culture Museum with me?”

That startled you. “Really? I have been wanting to go,” you gnawed on your thumbnail hesitantly. “But are you sure? With all the stuff you have on your plate?”

“Positively,” he replied, his blue eyes capturing all of your attention. You quickly averted your eyes before your circuits overheated. “Volunteers can bring in one guest for free. I… know we haven’t had too many chances to spend time together because we’re both busy, but I figured I’d make an offer anyhow,”

You didn’t catch the last half of that sentence over the sound of a train whistling in your ears.

This should be illegal.

Is he even hearing himself right now?? To— to spend time together?? If I wasn’t super-duper ultra perceptive, I’d think he—,

You clamped your hands on your cheeks (internally, of course) to still yourself, while the rest of you stared straight ahead.

Oh dear,

“Sure!” You blurted out, stiff as a statue.

Smooth, (Y/N).

Fortunately for you, an alert from your phone jostled you out of your internal minefield. You flipped it open while trying to expel far too many thoughts from your mind at once.

It was Serval. You popped into your messages app to see what she had sent— and in true Serval fashion— she had sent the most mind-boggling, disorienting message possible.

From: Serval at 13:44

S: how’s he doing? did u get there alright?

S: ahh you’re probably busy.

S: tuck him in for me, will u?

You nearly spit out your drink. Gepard blinked at you.

You— you can’t just SAY something like that, you cried internally. Not when my feelings are all messed up! I should get out of here before this gets any worse,

“Is something the matter?”

You sighed, long and heavy. “There’s always something, isn’t there?”

He made no move to make any inquiries.

“Anywho, I guess I should take my leave now,” you spoke, reaching down to pick up your messenger bag off the floor and rising from your seat. “before I keep you up any longer. Take it easy, okay?”

“Ah— yes,” he replied, not letting the disappointment leak into his voice. He wondered about the sudden change in mood, but he didn’t want to pry if it would cause you discomfort.

“I’ll… keep that in mind,”

You smiled warmly at him.

“Good,”

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Even though you had left with the reasoning that you didn’t want to keep him awake, Gepard was anything but tired.

His strict internal clock as a soldier was probably to blame. A sigh echoed throughout the room. It was way too quiet now. And the velvet curtains absorbed any sound too weak to escape them.

He had to do something to keep his mind active. Maybe reading, perhaps? But the only books he had on his bookshelf were on war strategy and history. Both of which were related to his job.

How about drawing?

Now, that didn’t sound too bad.

He got out of bed and picked up a pencil, a spare piece of paper, and the floriography manual you lent him, off of his desk to use as a hard surface. As he settled into his mattress, he peered out the window one last time. He spotted a familiar green beret against the tan limestone bouncing way faster than necessary down the steps leading to the plaza.

A chuckle escaped his lips.

Well, time to get started,

❆ — ❆ — ❆

You sat in the break room of the florist’s, reading the latest edition of Automatons Weekly while waiting patiently for the porridge you had bought from the grocers to finish absorbing the water.

Vaska sat across from you, drinking floral tea while flipping through Tales 2. You’d prepared a bowl of porridge for her as well, just a different flavor. Hers had flecks of green and black in it, and it smelled quite good. Rather savory, in your opinion. The one you had gotten Gepard was the plain kind.

They had a surprising amount of flavors of porridge specifically at the grocers, like cinnamon, coconut, banana, whatever. It was honestly overwhelming. The fact they spent so much time curating the porridge aisle was weird, considering they didn’t have anything worth buying from the Underworld. But nonetheless.

After lifting the lids and seeing that the grains were sufficiently cooked, you both dipped your spoons in and shoveled them in your mouth.

“Blech!” Vaska said, coughing her mouthful into a napkin. “It tastes like soap,” You looked at her wordlessly as you swallowed yours.

You pondered for a moment.

“You know… I think I’ve had dirt more flavorful,” you said, bursting into loud laughter. “And how exactly do you know what soap tastes like?”

Vaska gave you a look loaded with venom.

“Whatever. You up for some cookies?” You shrugged.

She snickered, cracking open the door to the sweets cabinet in response, and fished out a jar of Meg’s famous chocolate brownie cookies.

Well, so much for that plan.

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

💙 THANKS FOR READINF I LOVE YOU 💙

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yuukei-yikes · 14 days ago

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is it ever explained anywhere in the kagepro media what is Haruka's condition? tried to look into the kagepro fanwiki what it was but it just says "[...] implied to be cardiovascular". You got any clue?

SORRY FOR THE SUPER LATE ANSWER i have been Crazy busy and Crazy going through it. hope it's still helpful!

anyway!!! neither haruka or takane's conditions are outright stated, and are only mentioned as a heart disease and a sleeping disorder. even haruka and takane themselves don't know much about each other's diagnosis, and seem to know the basics of it. i always liked this detail because it's like they didn't want to ask each other too much about it, since they know what it's like to be constantly interrogated about it.

yaaay ill talk about takane even if u didnt ask but i promise its to make a point

with takane, the general consensus is that she's got specifically narcolepsy, because her symptoms are described with enough details that narrow it down to what it could be. she randomly falls asleep, and is extremely tired/sleepy all the time. when she dies... supposedly kenjirou had... poisoned her? but that's not stated anywhere im pretty sure it was just a popular headcanon (im so lazy to go check gang sorry. but i am pretty sure it's not mentioned also when tf would he have done that) however takane was extremely accelerated from running and her epiphany, and as soon as she falls she says "no way im having an episode rn" like she immediately knew what was happening, so it seems like cataplexy is also something she experiences. basically narcolepsy is... like spot on described and shown.

instead, for haruka its much less clear. like you said, he's only described to have a heart disease that's very serious and sends him into cardiac arrest erm kind of often, and it's also genetic because his mom had it and died from it. that's... it! there's never been popular headcanons on what it could be. unlike a sleeping disorder, a heart disease can be caused by a million different things and still have the same result (heart attacks). meanwhile sleeping disorders are a little bit more specific so takane's is easier to deduce.

haruka's illness could be many things, but my personal headcanon has always been arrhythmia. to be honest i decided on this hc as a teen bc it was the only heart disease i knew at the time so i kinda ran with it LOL but ive done some more reading later on (not extensive studies of it... just random google searches) and ive still landed on arrhythmia being my headcanon because it's also genetic, and there are different types of arrythmia, some being really really scary... not that arrhythmia in itself isnt scary tbh. its the irregular beating of the heart, so a heart attack can literally happen any moment!! scary as hell. but that's also why i think it's fitting, like even a sneeze could make haruka jumpcut scene to an ambulance.

these are some old hcs of mine but a more recent one is haruka getting treatments and surgeries post str. despite awakening eyes keeps haruka alive, it doesn't Cure him, but makes him strong enough to stand these treatments he wasnt suitable for before, increasing his lifespan. so even if awakening eyes doesnt cure him, it definitely helps him live.

so post str haruka is still very much a regular patient to the hospital and both him and takane continue to be medicated for life

#ask tag #headcanons #haruka kokonose #takane enomoto

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pikatrainer99 · 6 months ago

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Branch from Trolls has PTSD, paranoia, depression, and anxiety and you can't change my mind! (Part 1: Trolls) (SPOILERS FOR A MOVIE THAT CAME OUT 8 YEARS AGO BUT JUST IN CASE 😅)

(This entire three-part analysis was SUPPOSED to be completed in its entirety by the end of May since it's for mental health awareness month, buuuut...I couldn't finish it in time (had to take a break and take care of myself because my PTSD has relapsed lately...AGAIN... I've been getting triggered really easily by just about anything and I hate it so much 😑), but at least the FIRST part is ready in time...so here we go!

Branch is my favorite character in DreamWorks' Trolls franchise, and for many reasons. One of them being that he is very relatable. As someone with PTSD, paranoia, depression, and anxiety myself, I find it easy to put myself in Branch's tiny Troll feet and feel how he feels. (I also headcanon him as autistic, which I also am, but that's a post for another day). With this series of posts I will be analyzing his character journey and how his mental struggles affect him and his life. I will only be going over the three theatrical films in the franchise in these analysis posts, because, while his mental struggles are ABSOLUTELY present in the TV shows, I haven't seen every episode of the TV shows and I have a lot to discuss with just the three movies because I love Branch and relate to him so much.

So, to start this analysis, let's take a look at the first Trolls film. When Branch is first introduced, he is a grumpy, depressed, pessimistic gray Troll, and the only Troll in the village who doesn't sing, dance, hug, or party.

He instead chooses to spend all his time working on gathering supplies and rations for his, as he says "highly camouflaged, heavily fortified, Bergen-proof survival bunker." He lives in the bunker and has enough provisions to last him ten years…eleven if he's willing to store and drink his own sweat…which he is (gross).

Branch always feels the need to be crazy over-prepared for everything (so do I), no matter how crazy it drives the others (same here). The other Trolls all say that he ruins everything by interrupting their fun and panicking that "The Bergens are coming!" when in reality there's no Bergen in sight and there hasn't been for 20 years by that point and he's just paranoid. To them, he's basically like the boy who cried wolf…or in this case, the Troll who cried Bergen.

When Poppy invites Branch to her party, Branch immediately declines, saying that he "wouldn't be caught dead at her party" before adding that all the others "will be caught and dead" because of how big, loud, and crazy it's going to be. Branch frustratedly declares that Poppy's party is just gonna lead the Bergens right to the Trolls, and they all just brush his warning off because they haven't had to worry about Bergens in 20 years. That night, during the party, Branch is out collecting more provisions and he looks at the party from afar, scoffing at the others and their carefree attitudes before retreating back to his bunker. Before he knows it though, Poppy is banging on his door because a Bergen attacked the party and took all her friends. Branch, in his paranoia and anxiety, drags Poppy inside the bunker with him and sets up all his traps as they sit and wait in silence before Poppy tells him the Bergen is gone.

Branch, still paranoid, doesn't believe her and says that it could still be out there "watching…waiting…listening…" He clearly feels like he can never let his guard down, always on hyper-alert, checking for any danger. This is a common symptom of PTSD - hyper-vigilance (I have this symptom myself), and it can contribute to paranoia, making it even worse (it definitely does for me, and it looks like it's the same for Branch).

When Poppy asks him to go to Bergen Town with her to save everyone, Branch, with no hesitation, says no, that they're not his friends, they're Poppy's friends, and that he's staying in his bunker because his bunker is safe. He takes her down to the lower levels of the bunker, and this is where we see some obvious evidence of his mental state. There is frantic fear writing ALL OVER THE WALLS, and it says things like, "Run", "Danger", "Bergens eat us", "Teeth in the night", among many other things that are hastily scribbled and illegible (though Branch has bad writing in general, so it's already hard to read, but my point stands). He's even got multiple papers with horrifying drawings of the Bergens hung up on that wall as well. I have never really seen anyone else in this fandom talk about the writing all over Branch's walls, so I'm gonna talk about it myself. It makes it look like the poor guy spiraled, lost control, and had a manic episode…or eleven.

(Seriously, just LOOK at all this!!! This man is NOT okay!!!)

He's clearly TERRIFIED of Bergens, and wants to do everything in his power to avoid ever encountering one (which, fair, they do wanna EAT the Trolls, so that's a valid fear). Branch's fear of Bergens though, is not a normal fear, it seems to be a phobia, which would explain the paranoia. Obviously there's something going on inside his head involving Bergens that will definitely be revealed later. (foreshadowing)

Poppy completely disrespects Branch's needs, wishes, and privacy by letting all the other Trolls into the bunker while she goes to save her friends that got taken. This kinda made me upset because Branch clearly didn't give her permission to invade his personal space like that and make his own home suddenly feel unsafe with everyone there going through his stuff all at once. He freaks out when it's "Hug Time" because he doesn't want to be touched, especially not by all these Trolls he doesn't trust, so he packs a backpack and goes after Poppy, saving her from some spiders.

(This is honestly really upsetting to watch, she totally disrespects and ignores his boundaries here and it hurts to see him freak out over Hug Time because I also hate being touched, which means I also dislike hugs as a result of that...I only willingly hug my grandparents, that's it, no one else, not even my own parents.)

The whole way to Bergen Town, Branch is gloomy, brooding, and irritable. He tells Poppy that the world isn't all "cupcakes and rainbows" when she asks what happened to him to make him the way he is.

Poppy and her constant singing get on his nerves, the worst instance of this being when she starts singing at night when he's trying to sleep, making him angry enough to throw her ukulele into the campfire, burning it.

(This scene always gets a laugh out of me, the way it's animated is just perfect comedy XD)

Singing is clearly triggering for him, which we find out why later on when he adamantly refuses to sing with the others when they're trying to help Bridget get a date with King Gristle by giving her a makeover. Poppy asks him why he won't sing and he responds with (probably) the most iconic line in the entire film (and not one that people seem to be able to take seriously…but I take it as seriously as can be): "BECAUSE SINGING KILLED MY GRANDMA, OKAY?!"

(His facial expressions here as he tells the story of what happened to his grandma are just...DreamWorks nailed it, and also the knee hugging pose...he's just like me for real 🥺)

We then see a flashback of a young Branch, happy and colorful, singing his heart out, but the Chef Bergen comes for him and he's so lost in song he doesn't notice, or hear his grandma warning him.

This causes his grandma to push him out of the way, and get taken instead.

Branch is so distraught by his grandma's sacrifice, that he loses all his happiness and becomes depressed, turning gray in the process, and vowing to never sing again.

(This poor child had to witness his grandma meet her untimely demise...and he blames himself for it...that's really depressing in my opinion, I seriously don't understand why people find this scene funny, it triggered my own PTSD really BAD the first time I watched it...I'm used to it now so I don't have my PTSD triggered by it anymore but it still hurts to watch.)

Now the bigger picture is clear. He's got PTSD and paranoia involving the Bergens because of what happened with his grandma as a child. His grandma's sacrifice also started his severe depressive state, as evidenced by him turning gray immediately after she got taken. When the flashback ends, Branch is staring silently and sadly out the window, looking like he's trying not to cry, his depression getting a hold of him once again.

(Again, DreamWorks really nailed the facial expressions here...he looks so broken 🥺)

I understand how he's feeling in that scene, my grandma is my LIFELINE, the person I feel the safest with…seriously I confide in her and tell her more things than I tell my own mom because I trust my grandma more…I even stayed at her house for a while a few years back during my worst mental crisis ever just so I could have the feeling of constant safety and less nightmares…so if something ever happened to her I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Singing is a trigger for him, and so are Bergens in general…which makes me upset at the others, AGAIN, when they sing the song that Branch was singing during that time…my thoughts were like, "Come ON guys, that song is probably the most triggering song for him…" As you can probably tell, I get upset with the others quite a few times whenever I watch this film, because of how they treat Branch. Eventually the entirety of Troll Village is thrown in a pot, ready to be served for Trollstice, and it's here where Branch's character development really becomes apparent. Poppy turns gray, quickly followed by all the other Trolls, and Branch looks around at everyone turning gray, like him, and, desperate to do something about it and help the girl he's now grown to love, he finally breaks his 20-year-long "no singing" vow as he begins to sing "True Colors" in what is probably the most beautiful scene in the entire film (I know it's my personal favorite scene).

(There they all go...turning gray...and Branch is just looking around at everyone, clearly upset by this.)

(His expressions here...you can tell he's thinking, "I've gotta do something!" And he does, and it's beautiful 🥺)

Thanks to Branch, Poppy and the other Trolls are able to regain their colors, and thanks to Poppy, Branch FINALLY regains his colors after 20 years!

(He's getting his colors back! I always feel so happy when I watch the True Colors scene, it's just so beautiful and satisfying 😌👍)

(They're so cute, look at them dance together 🥺! Broppy is best Trolls ship and no one can convince me otherwise, these two are PERFECT for each other 😌)

He thanks Poppy for showing him how to be happy, stating that "happiness is inside of all of us, sometimes you just need someone to help you find it", quoting one of Poppy's lines from earlier in the film. Branch now feels comfortable singing and dancing with Poppy and the other Trolls as they teach the Bergens that same lesson by singing "Can't Stop The Feeling", which helps the Trolls finally make peace with the Bergens after many many years of fearing being eaten by them.

Poppy is crowned queen, Branch finally asks for (and gets) a hug from her even though it's not Hug Time, and the movie ends.

(They are so adorable I can't take it!)

This is not the end of Branch's journey though, there's still two more movies to cover! I'll be covering the second movie hopefully soon, so I hope you look forward to that, and I hope you enjoyed this character analysis on Branch in the first movie! If I missed anything please feel free to let me know in the comments! I sometimes miss things especially with relatable characters because sometimes there are aspects that trigger me so I try to forget about those aspects, and sometimes the character as a whole just hits too close to home and writing analyses on them is too overwhelming because of that (Branch is one of those characters, so it took me ages to write this and gather all the GIFs and images...and also this entire analysis was written ENTIRELY from my memory of the events in the first movie, so there's that part too). Also please excuse the potato quality images and GIFs...I tried my best to find good ones but most of them I found are just REALLY bad quality so...sorry about that 😅

Okay, that's about it for this post! I'll see you guys next time for another Branch analysis, this time for Trolls World Tour! Catch ya later! 👋

#dreamworks trolls #trolls branch #character analysis #branch character analysis #this little troll is so relatable #seriously he's just like me for real #right down to the mental health issues i headcanon him to have #because i have the exact same ones #also let's not forget his autism coding...but i will probably cover that after i'm done with the mental health analysis #this was supposed to be fully completed for mental health awareness month but i couldn't finish it in time 😅#i hope you like it regardless #long post #pika's headcanons #pika talks

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