#talk of mental health issues

[vixen-angel]

purposely putting yourself in danger, or being visibly sad so maybe someone might ask if youre doin alright.. but then nobody bats an eye.

[rowrowronnie]

it would be quite funny if the blu medic was also their collective therapist

[foolishlovers]

daydreaming about longhaired crowley in s3 is free therapy to me btw

[mediumgayitalian]

At around half past one, Nico gets a Feeling.

He gets feelings a lot. Nothing he can quantify, just something telling him that something is up, somethings wrong. Or something’s about to be. At this point, he’s learned to trust his intuition, based purely on the number of times it has saved his life; a number he’s long since given up counting. (He’s only ignored his gut feelings three times in his life: when Bianca went on her quest, when his father promised not to hurt Percy before the Titan War, and when he went looking for the Doors. He has learned his lesson.)

So when something at the bottom of his stomach tells him to get up, to check things out — he does.

He knows it could be nothing. (The last time he had a Feeling, it turned out that he had placed a book precariously on the edge of his desk, and it had been about to fall. Not exactly world-saving stuff.) But regardless, he steps out of bed, shoves his feet into his shoes, and creeps out of his cabin.

Camp is kind of beautiful at night.

There’s an eerie calmness to it without so many human disasters running about, and the quiet reflects that. All Nico can really hear is the hooting of owls in the distance, the chittering of nocturnal animals and monsters alike, the distant screeches of curfew harpies, and the pleasant crashing of the waves. The air is clean, when he inhales, and he takes the time to hold it in his lungs for a bit, imagining the sweet breath is healing his burned lungs, turning the scar tissue back to something flexible and normal. Whether or not it actually works, he doesn’t know, but it feels nice.

Under the light of the brightly shining new moon and billions of stars, he starts his patrol. Around his own cabin first — there’s nothing, as he expected, the warning doesn’t seem overwhelming like threats tend to be — and then he makes his way around the circuit, checking behind gardens and shrines and inside braziers. He hums quietly as he walks, something preppy and bright the Apollo kids have been hollering for days, and waves to Lady Hestia, sword heavy at his waist.

“Come sit,” she calls, patting the seat next to her.

Nico does.

“Haven’t seen you out at night in a while.”

He hums, toneless this time, leaning back on his hands and mirroring her gaze at the sky.

“Been sleeping, for once.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiles, knowing that she means it. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she picks up his sword, sliding it from his belt loop, and uses it to stoke the flames. She doesn’t seem afraid of it, or wary. To her it’s just a stick of metal. It’s nice.

“You have you been, my Lady?”

She pokes at the embers a few more times, scooping a few to balance at the tip of the blade for a while. It glows with the heat, and he knows he’ll have to sharpen it tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe he can do it while Will is in the archery range. It’ll give him an excuse to be at the armoury at the same time, anyway.

“I’ve been well.” She breathes deeply, small smile pulling at her face. “It’s calmer, and more people wave to me. I like it.”

“Good.”

She dismisses him a few minutes later, sending him off with a promise to chat again soon. She doesn’t need to worry about him promising — he makes a point to sit with her at least once a week — but it’s nice to know someone wants his company, so he appreciates it. He leaves with a wave, walking towards the eastern half of the cabins.

Nothing’s amiss. He can hear campers snoring, and see the odd reading light. Malcolm catches his eye as he walks past the Athena cabin and winks, sending a cheeky salute when he sees the sword held loosely in his hands. So far, everything seems fine. He’s beginning to think the Feeling might have simply been about Lady Hestia, so he decides to do one last check around the Big House and then head back.

Of course, that’s where the issue is.

The infirmary lights are always on. They’re dimmer in the night, more of a glow than anything, but there’s an extra brightness streaming out from the windows, and when Nico peeks inside, he sees Will, standing with his back turned at the nurse’s station.

He takes a moment to check his strength, making sure he has the energy for it — dinner last night was pho and he had three bowls, he most definitely does — and sinks into the shadows by the door. He materializes back in the little alcove by the bandage & wraps cabinet, lurking silently while he blinks the dizziness away.

The first thing he registers is soft singing.

He’s facing Will, now, and can see the glow coming from his hands, enveloping a bowl of some kind. He has both hands coated in some dusky pink substance, massaging and gently pounding it against the sides of the bowl, working it through with great care. As his voice gets higher, the glow gets brighter, fading as he dips lower. He sings something about hills and meadows and the breeze, about wing-song, about the sound of flower stems bending in the wind. For a while Nico stands, listening to the melodious ancient Greek, swaying with every pitch and hold. It’s captivating.

Will is almost haunting when he heals.

There’s a divinity in him — in all of them — but he glows when he sings. Not just his hands, and sometimes his head if he puts enough power in his words, but there’s an almost shimmer to the air around him, a shining warp. His skin gets clearer, and his hair goes more metallic, almost, like spun gold rather than blonde. His freckles make his skin into an inverse replica of the night sky, dark specks surrounded by bright empty between them. His long fingers pluck through bright strands of light like a harpist strums their chords; lightly, carefully, skillfully; like a braider weaves their hair. There’s an undeniable age to his magic, a practice that’s visibly replicated millions of times over thousands of years, as if every healer who has come before him links their arms with his, breathes their strength in his lungs. Sometimes, when he does something truly unbelievable, amazingly beyond reason, he flickers — his orange camp shirt fades into a white chiton, or long robes, or a white coat, or a blue tunic. Watching him heal is like watching the sunrise — breathtaking and unique, every time, but powerful in its cyclic archaism.

It takes Nico a long time to realise Will is swaying.

Snapped out of his trance, he begins to notice Will’s long, slow blinks, the unsteady way he stands, the weight he has leaned on the counter. Even his face looks plainly exhausted under the glow, face pillow-creased and eyes bruised, hair mussed, limbs leaden. Footsteps as silent as he can manage, Nico creeps over to the schedule posted by the door, scanning through the scrawled pen ink.

He curses quietly. Will is not supposed to be awake.

There are really only three people who can work the infirmary to its fully capacity, barring Chiron. Kayla, Austin, and Will are the only ones who can magically heal, as much as the volunteers are imperative, so when the camp is in full swing one of them must be stationed at all times. That’s how Will sets it up. A bit of a waste of time, he acknowledges, but Nico knows he has memorized every time a camper who should have been saved. He carries far too much guilt to ever let it happen again, as inconvenient as his rules may be.

Night shift, though, is a need-be basis. If the infirmary is as empty as it is right now, then there truly is no need to keep one of the three of them awake outside their circadian rhythm, staring at nothing. Instead, they take shifts in the on-call room — asleep, but prepared should anything go wrong, should a monster chase a new camper at an odd hour. It’s Will’s turn for on-call. It’s two in the morning. He should be asleep.

And, yet.

Nico recognizes the look in his eyes. There’s a — frailty, to them, a deep-seated, animalistic fear, one he recognises from the hours after his own night terrors. A single-minded panic that cannot be unseated in any logical way, cannot be comforted with any gentle hands.

Nico handles his fear with slashing swords and bruised knuckles. Will, he knows, handles his fear with obsessive, endless preparation.

Knowing full well nothing is going to drag him away from his focus bar actual cardiac arrest, Nico walks right by him. Will doesn’t move. He settles behind him in the old, creaky leather office chair, curling his legs under him and resting his head on the soft arm. He watches Will, watches the almost machine-like movement to his kneading arms, and falls back asleep to his humming.

———

“…Nico?”

He wakes up warm and a little cramped, in the same position he fell asleep. Sun is streaming on from the many issues, blocked from burning his eyes by Will’s hunched frame, facing towards him now, hands and shoulders shaking with equal violence.

“What time is it?”

His voice is croaky and wrecked from hours of singing. Nico is willing to bet his throat is burned as badly as his hands, cooked from non-stop, sun-borne glowing. The divinity that had emanated from him before has abandoned him and he looks young, lost.

“Early,” Nico says softly. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching slightly — gods, he is going to ache today — and wraps a slow, careful hand around Will’s wrists. “Probably around six, if I have to guess.”

“I don’t remember waking up.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s okay.”

His breathing is heavy, laboured.

“I don’t —”

Nico squeezes gently. “It’s okay, Will.”

Will swallows and says nothing.

“Come on.”

Carefully, letting Will’s stiff joints set the pace, Nico guides him out of the infirmary. The sun shines brighter as soon as he steps outside, but he doesn’t seem to notice bar a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch at the change in lighting. Nico switches from holding his wrists to laying a hand on the small of his back, half-worried he’s going to fall over.

Luckily, he makes it to the Apollo Cabin upright, although the stairs take them a while. The hinges of the old screen door creak as Nico pushes it open, and he sees both Kayla and Austin, up and dressed, jump.

“…Will?” Kayla asks softly, eyebrows creased in concern. She walks over to him when he doesn’t answer, frozen still, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Will leans — almost hesitantly — into the touch. The same blankness from before clouds his eyes, although this time there’s less of the fear.

“Hey.” Nico walks over to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eyes. In the minutes it takes, he hears Austin pad over, standing opposite to Kayla, hands clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide what to do with them. “You think you can sleep?”

Will doesn’t answer verbally, but drifts after a moment to his bed. Nico follows, helping him out of his shoes and shirt. After a beat of hesitation, Austin hurries over, turning down Will’s sheets and helping him crawl in. Soft guitar music begins to play, and when Nico looks over Kayla is fiddling with the CD player, turning the dials carefully. Without much fanfare, Will’s eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows to something deep and even. His twitching fingers still.

“I don’t think today’s an activity day,” Nico murmurs. “I checked up on him a while after midnight; he’d been at it for hours. He didn’t stop ‘til sunrise.”

Kayla rubs harshly at her eyes. “Fuck.”

“He’ll be okay,” Austin whispers. He runs a gentle knuckle over Will’s forehead, then turns his careful, imploring gaze to Nico. “You kept an eye on him?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Nico inclines his head. “Had a feeling.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kayla admits. “He was —” She trails off, staring at something in the left half of the cabin — the empty half. “He was like this after the Titan War, too. I think he spoke maybe two words for the entirety of September.”

Nico almost can’t imagine it. The very thought of it makes something twinge in his chest, clench in his stomach.

“We’ll figure it out.” He nods, to convince himself as much as Kayla and Austin, who look to him with way more trust than he deserves. “We won’t let it — it won’t get that bad. We’ll help, and if we can’t figure it out we’ll get help. It won’t be as hard as last time.”

It won’t be as hard as last time because there won’t be twelve shrouds, Nico doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to. Both Kayla and Austin nod, looking at their sleeping brother with firm resolution.

“This time, we’ll be there.”

[ghosts-cyphera]

hi everyone !!

things are still really rough but I just wanted to say that I haven’t forgotten about any of you. if we’ve ever talked, or if you’ve ever reblogged or commented on my posts or sent me an ask or a message—I consider you my friend. and if I consider you my friend, chances are that you’ve crossed my mind in the past few weeks.

I love you all so very endlessly, and hope that the rest of this year will treat you with the love and kindness you all deserve.

sending you all the love 💗 !!

[wyrdle]

One small thing in the F&C finale that was very augh for me was just ... what Simon needed. I mean, yes, therapy good, but I dislike the line of thought that it's some cure all— where is Simon's entire support system??? Marceline, Finn...? Even the old wizards, Gunther etc would've been incredibly relevant to mesh into that final quick cut montage of him healing. Just one little scene of him talking to Marceline, tearing up and getting a hug/comforted, would have tied up that bit in Episode 2 where he feels like he doesn't have anyone/feel needed.

[tin-can-iron-man]

I'm just gonna say it again real quick:

Yes!! Iron Man is a tragedy! It has and always has been since the very first appearance in 1963 which describes itself, Tony's life, and legacy, as such.

Tony causes most of his issues himself, he is his biggest villain, a majority of his rogues gallery are caricatures of the worst versions of himself brought to life (when they're not just being racist cuz...60s...). The worst thing about being Tony Stark is that he can't stop being Tony Stark (he tried!!) That is the point.

The majority of pain Tony goes through, is pain he inflicts on himself, whether intentionally or inadvertently. That is the point.

He is not A villain (at least. Not usually. There are...some rough moments and arcs that are. Not great. As there is with any character as old as he is). But he is his own main antagonist.

[happyk44]

Annabeth breaking up with Percy after HoO because the Misery thing freaked her out and after the war she finally had the time to look back on it and process how scared she was and her panic is just "get away get away" and she just needs a break to get past it and Sally having Estelle and clearly she loves Percy still but she also has Paul and a new kid now and she seemed painfully resigned to Percy being cast into another war and so he's just clawing at Grover, begging loudly and near violently for him not to leave him like everyone else, on the verge of suicide, and Grover promising he won't but Percy doesn't believe him even as he calms down because people leave, they leave, they leave, they leave, he's broken and horrible and disgusting and they leave and Grover has Juniper and Lord of the Wild duties and he'll leave just like everyone else and what's the point of life anymore if everyone he loves is just going to leave?

[utilitycaster]

I genuinely believe the fact that so many popular Imogen/Laudna fics are no-powers AU is, if not the main cause, at least a factor in why so many people resist or even are hostile towards any interpretation of Imogen that isn't largely sweet and harmless. Like, write the fic you want, but Imogen in particular is someone so fundamentally shaped by her powers that to write a no powers AU is to write what is essentially a completely original character who happens to share her name.

I think it's made even more obviously a factor because many of those fics try to reconstruct aspects of Imogen's personality by giving her anxiety or agoraphobia (or both) but the problem is that those are purely mental illnesses, rather than something that both gives her powers and penalties (again, the X-Men problem). Some real-world mental illnesses cover the symptoms of Imogen's abilities, but none cover the abilities themselves. It's quite literally a removal of agency: they take away what she can (and frequently does) do with her powers, leaving only the negative effects on her behind while eliminating the negative effects she can have on others. No wonder there's this overwhelming push to woobify her from that corner; they've utterly defanged her and are now crying that other people who can still see her fangs (and even like them) are talking about them.

And the thing is, for all I can be negative about fanon, it is, ultimately, fine - so long one can either keep it separate in one's mind from canon or else remain in a particular fanon sandbox. But unfortunately people leave the sandbox, and when other people respond to the canon Imogen, who as of episode 81 (RIP CRStats) has voluntarily used Detect Thoughts/Open Mind 60 times and has openly stated her intent to use it specifically to know what her party members are doing in advance and theoretically prevent it, the fanfic crowd is utterly unable to react to this intelligently. The idea of Imogen they have is sweet girl with severe anxiety and a goth girlfriend. The problem is this construct exists only in their favorite fanfic writers' domestic fluff modern AU no powers setting. And frankly, I'm not interested in talking about that warped mirror version of her when I could have all the fascination, complexity, glory, and agency of the real thing.

[dead-core]

craving validation from exactly the wrong person. slay

[emsgoodthinkin]

As long as I’m with You

Steve Harrington x You (short)

Summary: Steve wakes up to another bad night you’ve had this week

Warnings: hurt/comfort, talks of poor physical and mental health, doctors, suicidal ideation, medication use, drug use, chronic health issues, BPD if you squint, disabilities, use of the word “girl” x times, negative self talk, mentions of sex, angst, fluff~~

This is based off my own experiences and inspired by my pal Morgan’s version; feel free to check hers out

Tick tick tick

The clock strikes 12 and then 1, 3, 5am in the morning, no sleep no rest it’s an every day cycle. The same shitty cycle.

It’s a new year, but not a new you.

Sitting in your walker in front of the excruciatingly bright television screen, high as a kite, everything in existence running through your mind 100 mph, sometimes the weed helps the pain. Sometimes it induces it or even makes it worse. Right now it’s doing nothing for you. Looking over at your loved one sound asleep. You don’t want to bother him with your whines or crying. So you just sit there silence, tears rolling down your cheeks; while you watch some bullshit on YouTube.

Sniff Sniff

“Baby?”

Shit.

“..yea?” you say in a whispered tone

“Are you ok? what’s wrong?”

“Ah, you already know”, you’ve used that line probably over a million times

Steve comes along your side expecting a few dried tears, but his eyes widen when he’s sees the collar around your shirt bitten, snot dribbling down your mouth and throat, crouching down, he lies his head onto your thigh looking up at you, “Talk to me sweetheart”

“No.”

“Hey, I know you’re hurting”—

“GOOD FOR YOU! Congratulations you know I’m hurting, you know I’ve been hurting for fucking years. I’m glad you’ve acknowledged it unlike some people”you sniffle getting up in a hurry to take a piss as he follows with sad eyes leaning against the door frame

“I’m fucking tired, I’m so goddamn exhausted nobody will ever know what I’m dealing with!”, you say wiping your ass not bothering to wash your hands, “I can’t do anything I can’t run, I can’t jump, can’t go to the stupid, fucking grocery store without one of those motorized carts.. my back hurts, my fucking knees are throbbing, stupid fucking nerves won’t calm down FUCK! It’s not like I can get in the bathtub to calm my muscles down. Nothing is helping! No medication, no PT, no injections, no nothing! Why?? am I just resistant to any source of help or treatment? I-I can’t even lay in the goddamn bed to sleep. That’s all I have left is rest!! What is rest!? I don’t know what the hell that even is”

“I know baby I know”—

“NO YOU DONT STEVE, all you know is what you see. I wouldn’t wish on our worst enemy, my worst enemy to feel what I feel. That’s how bad it all hurts. The most evil, sick and twisted person in this world, I would never wish this upon. I just..”, getting dizzy you collapse on the bed sobbing into your own hands, then eventually into Steve’s shoulder as he rocks you, tears spilling from his own eyes—

“Nobody cares, nobody wants to help me. nobody cares unless I’m rich and can afford to give them any and ALL the things off my back, but I can’t. Even with the money you make it will never be enough to help the poor girl who’s too young to have any kind of issue. It’s “all in my head” I’m just fucking crazy. I could break my own neck and still be told it’s only from anxiety. Nobody cares just”—

“I care” he exhales

“It doesn’t matter if you care, all your care is useless, all your help is worthless to me because it gets me nowhere. Nobody’s love and care gets me nowhere. It’s nothing all but fucking false hope. Don’t you get that? None of you still to this day seems understand that. Stop praying for me to get better. It’s never going to happen. I can’t take it anymore.. I just wanna die! All I wish for is to die but, I can’t even have that. It’s like all of you want me here, to live and suffer for the rest of my life for y’all, it’s not fair, fuck that”, your trembling, body in fight or flight

“Don’t say that, you know I’d do anything to take your pain away”

“It doesn’t matter what you’d do because you’re not a doctor. You’re not a professional, you can’t help me get better.. sucks to hear but it’s the truth Steve..fuck”—

Steve’s really trying not to beat himself up over your words, he knows you’re in pain, it comes from a place of anger, frustration and fear

“I have all these pain medications I could easily take all at once, so I’ll never have to wake up in this position ever again. Why can’t I do it huh? I could end right here right now you never have to suffer again, but I just d-don’t; If anything, I’m the most selfless person for staying alive for YOU just so I can be alive but in pain all over again for YOU!”, your tone getting higher and higher in pitch

“I-I’m sorry.. I wish I knew the right words to say baby”, he’s trying his best to stay strong for you

“You’ve got to be sick of me, tired of me. All I do is cause more money to come out of your pockets, more exhaustion, more burdening, more crying, more everything bad for you. You already deal with your own shit. I do nothing but make your own mentality worse, hell you’re making your own self worse being with a person like me. A broken and useless excuse of a human being. You deserve somebody who can go hiking with you, go to the beach, travel with, who can do the bare minimum. Can’t even fuck you properly—

“STOP! Stop that right now” he shouts

You freeze because he’s never raised his voice at you, atleast not on purpose at such a vulnerable time

“I hate it too. You know it hurts me to know that you hurt and I’m sorry that I can’t take the pain away from you. My sweet, sweet girl I’m so sorry that nobody has given you the chance to hear your voice, to help heal you..but I’m gonna make you the same promise I make you almost every single night. As long as I’m with you, I will try my best with all my power to make it a little bit more bearable for you to be here, and I am so grateful that you are still here and choose to be here with me for us to be together. I know you hurt, but as long as you’re with me, I’m going to do my best to put a smile on your pretty face, beautiful sunshine of a smile because you’re my sunshine.. y-your smile gives me life did you know that?”

You nod. He tells you all the time

“I- I’m tired for wishing to feel ok for my birthdays, every Christmas. All the shirts and posters you got me for Christmas? I haven’t even touched them yet, you know why? Because the selfish person in me doesn’t give a fuck about none of it. The only thing I care about and want and NEED is pain relief and that’s too much to ask for isn’t it? Apparently wanting to be better in the world it’s too much to ask for”

“You deserve to feel better”, he says while his hand travels up your back to rub your tense neck, “You deserve to be free from all of this and I can’t give that to you. You’re not selfish baby you’re hurting. I love you for you. I knew what I was signing up for, and if I didn’t want that I wouldn’t be here right now with you. I know the sacrifices Ill have to make, the tears I’ll have to shed, the strength it’ll take me to pick you up when you’re down, but I fell in love with you, how you are, and who you are”

“Who are you kidding Steve, you don’t even know who I am. The real me. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I wish you met me when I wasn’t sick then maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed out a-and.. and,” you start sobbing again, it’s all too overwhelming

“Hey, hey look at me, no. I met you at the right time. You need me just as much as I need you. You may not think you’re worth nothing but you’re worth everything to me. Yeah you have a good and bad days..—

“I’ve had nothing but bad days for the past few months Steve”-

“I know, I see it, I hear it and I witness it, I may not can feel it, but at the end of it all, you still love me. You’re still here. You still want to cook for me. You still get up to brush your teeth and I’m so proud of you for still trying to care for yourself. That’s the biggest job you’ll ever have, and it’s been a very hard job hasn’t it?

You nod, as he nods with you

“Yeah, it has, but you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I want to provide for you. I want to take care of you. You’re my girl, you deserve so much and as long as I’m with you, I will try every day, every hour, every second or minute, to make sure you know how loved, how great and how amazing you are. How great and amazing you’re doing for yourself and for me. How strong you are”—

—“im tired of having being strong all the time”, interrupting him

“I know you are. You are so strong for being on this earth, even when you don’t want to be. I wouldn’t ask for anybody else, you’re it for me always. Will you continue to let me try to make it better for you every day? To take care of you?”, he squats in front of you, cupping your wet cheeks, kissing your forehead

“But Stevie.. you know you’re getting your own hopes up because nothing you do helps either and I feel like a piece of shit for saying that because”—

“I know what you mean, you don’t have to be sorry. I understand you may not have hope but I do. All my Hope goes towards you and it always will. You are the most important thing in my life. I’m not gonna give up on you, on me or on us, ok sunshine?”

..”okay”, you repeat rubbing your temples

“Head hurt, darling?”

“yes”

“From crying too hard?”

You nod, looking away in shame, “It’s okay, I’ll get your Migrane cap from the freezer and i’ll set your pillows up how you like, just sit tight”, he says it standing then pausing at the doorway, looking over his shoulder, “I love you”

“luv you—

“Hmm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you” he exclaims

“I said love you gosh.. shut up”, you barely crack a smile

That was enough to get him through the rest of the night.

[bisexualcherdegre]

D:BH Rarepairsweek 7 | @dbhrarepairs

Day 3: Hank/Markus After the revolution, Markus and Hank are both trying to deal with the new situation they've been handed. Their paths cross.

[fablexdreams]

Do yall think that John was hurt and jealous when he found out that Dutch and Hosea went fishing with Arthur at the start of chapter 3 but didn't bring him? Idk, the mission just felt...wrong without him, y'know? Maybe I'm projecting, but I'd feel so left out and alone if I was John lmao. Everyone always thinks and says that John is Dutch's favorite, that he's the 'golden boy', but he is left out of things and pushed aside an awful lot for being so golden. Even with the random stories we get about the 'old days' from the gang sometimes, it hardly ever feels like John has any of them. John has always given me lonely vibes, and i know a lot of people argue that its just his lone wolf personality, but I can't help but wonder if it's by choice or not. If that's how John wanted it to be, or if it was just what he had always known. I just wish we could have gotten more moments of Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and John all together. It all started, and ended, with them after all.

[pikatrainer99]

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! 👋

[transwolvie]

some of the really well-meaning posts on here seem to not understand that there's nothing mental illness hates quite like a lecture. you could have the best intentions and couch it so nicely and everything but if someone is in a deep, deep depression, all they're going to hear is "this is all you're fault because you're not doing something." depression makes you literally helpless. depression makes you look at the solution, which IS that you have to deal with your own problems, somehow (if it's this severe probably through therapy), and think "the only person who can help me is me? guess I'm fucked then," and you lie there and feel useless because everyone lecturing you is right, you guess, but that just means that you're a fuck-up failure because you can't just Do The Thing. doesn't matter that the person didn't actually say that. doesn't matter that the statement was "you need to eat healthier, you'll feel better" (true) or "you have to schedule an appointment with a therapist even if it's hard" (true), because when you're in the trenches of absolutely hating yourself, those things are nigh impossible. you might as well be telling someone that all they have to do to feel better is peel all their skin off. like. yeah. thanks for the advice. I'll get right on it. sorry for being apparently too weak and feeble to do what the obvious solution is.

lecturing doesn't fucking work. some of you need to get out of the text post or your friend's DMs and instead of trying to lecture them, regardless of how right you might be, try offering something. try "I can order some food for you" or "I can find a therapist that's open to e-mail communication instead of phone calls."

DO something. something physical. material. something more than telling someone who chemically cannot produce what they need to love and nurture themselves that they need to love and nurture themselves.

[eerrratt]

Wooaah, no one expected that I would post something today :0

(Not even me)

anyway, here's a redraw of a scene from SL (chapter 4? 5? I don't remember)

(please don't look for the original drawing it's horrible lmao)