#all the time and i hate this so much and i hate being a burden to the person i love

[endofthelinegang]

third req option: angst, specifically hurt/comfort. maybe reader is struggling with depression and executive dysfunction and just beating self up over it and hides it from matt who can tell something is up but not what but he's super busy between cases and being daredevil so can't actually focus on it. and everntually after like two weeks of this it comes to a head and either reader breaks or matt confronts reader about what's going on

i love you so much and if you are going through this i love you even more

The weight had been pressing on you for weeks now—weeks of feeling like you were suffocating under an invisible blanket of exhaustion, of empty days spent barely moving, of pretending everything was fine. The depression was always there, lurking in the background, but now it was in the foreground, all-consuming. You could hardly keep up with work, barely managed to shower, and even getting out of bed felt like a battle you were losing. Every task, even the simplest ones, seemed insurmountable, like the weight of the world was in your limbs, pulling you down. But you wore a mask, plastering on a smile when Matt came home, answering his questions like everything was okay. You didn’t want to burden him—not him, who already carried so much.

But Matt noticed. Of course, he did. Matt had a way of sensing the world in ways most people couldn’t even imagine. His senses were heightened—his sense of hearing, smell, and touch were all sharper than anything you could comprehend. And lately, he had noticed the changes. The silence that lingered between the two of you after he'd come home from patrol. The way you flinched at his touch, the way your responses were slower, quieter.

You thought you were doing a good job of hiding it, but the guilt gnawed at you every time you felt him pull away, trying not to push you too hard. You knew Matt would never demand anything from you, but that’s what made it worse—you didn’t want to be the reason he couldn’t give his all to the city. He didn’t deserve that.

The worst part was the shame. You hated yourself for not being stronger, for not being able to pull yourself together and be the person you used to be. You would sit there, stuck in your head, beating yourself up about everything. It wasn’t like you were unaware of what was happening. You knew it was depression, you knew about the executive dysfunction that came with it, the inability to get anything done no matter how much you tried to force yourself. But still, that didn’t make it any easier. It felt like a failing, a weakness. And there was no one you could talk to about it. Not even Matt.

Matt came home one night, the familiar sound of his footsteps echoing in the hallway, the soft tap-tap of his cane hitting the floor with each step. His senses had told him you were home, but there was something off. It was the silence, the lack of your usual greeting, the absence of the light chatter that normally accompanied your evenings. It made his stomach tighten in concern.

"Hey, babe?" His voice was warm, calm, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it as he walked into the living room. You sat on the couch, tucked into your favorite blanket, a book resting in your lap, but you weren’t reading. The pages were flipped aimlessly, and you hadn’t even marked the page you left off. Your eyes were distant, staring at nothing in particular.

"Hi," you said softly, not lifting your gaze. Matt stood still for a moment, listening to the slight tremor in your voice. Something wasn’t right. He could hear it in your breath, in the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Matt knew you too well to think it was just a bad day. There was something deeper, darker, that had taken hold of you. The kind of weight that didn’t just come from one bad day—it came from weeks of wearing a mask and pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

He walked over, sitting next to you, his hand brushing lightly against yours. You didn’t pull away, but the stiff tension in your fingers told him everything. You were shutting him out.

“You okay?” Matt asked gently, his tone quiet and concerned. He had no way of knowing exactly what was going on, but he could feel the subtle shifts in the air, the way you were withdrawing from him.

You hesitated. You wanted to say no, but it felt too hard to admit. It was like the moment you said it out loud, it would be real, and you weren’t ready to face that. So instead, you shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, just... tired.”

Matt’s frown deepened. He knew you better than that. Your silence, your withdrawn energy, it all pointed to something more than exhaustion. But before he could press further, you stood up quickly, moving to put the book away, the movement sharp and jerky.

He stood too, a few steps behind you, just close enough to be present, to offer a safety net without crowding you. “You sure? You’ve been off for a while now. You’ve barely touched your coffee in the morning, and you—” He paused. “You don’t talk to me the way you used to. It’s like you’re not here.”

The words hit harder than he meant them to. You flinched, guilt sinking into your stomach, but you didn’t show it. Not yet. Not to Matt. He was too good, too pure.

“I’m just... stressed, Matt,” you said, but the lie fell flat.

He heard it. Of course, he did. His heart sank, knowing there was more, but not being able to place it.

“I’m not buying it, sweetheart.” His voice was low, the edge of concern creeping in. "You can’t keep pretending you’re okay when I can feel it. It’s like you’re... not here, not really."

You turned to face him then, trying to find something to say, anything to deflect. But it was harder than you thought. The tears you’d been holding back for weeks threatened to spill over, and for the first time, you didn’t have the strength to stop them. You couldn’t keep the mask up any longer.

“I’m not okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve been pretending, but I can’t keep it up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Matt. I can’t... I can’t get anything done, I can’t even get out of bed sometimes, and I don’t know why. I feel like I’m failing you, like I’m failing myself.”

Matt’s hand shot out, catching yours gently, and he guided you to the couch. His touch was firm, reassuring, but it didn’t feel like the usual solid, invincible Matt. This time, he was as fragile as you were. “Hey, hey.” His voice was soft, his senses attuned to your every movement. “You’re not failing anyone, least of all me.”

He sat next to you, pulling you into his chest, not caring about the tension between you, not caring that it had been weeks since you’d let yourself lean on him. “You’re allowed to be broken. You’re allowed to have bad days. Hell, you’re allowed to have bad weeks.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’m here. I’m always here. And you don’t have to be anything for me except you.”

You choked on a sob, the floodgates finally breaking open. “I don’t know how to be me anymore. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t have to fix anything,” Matt said, his voice steady, though it was clear how much it cost him to say it. “I’m not here because you’re perfect, (Y/N). I’m here because you’re you. And no matter what’s going on, no matter how hard it gets, you don’t have to face it alone. I’ve got you."

His words felt like the first breath of air after drowning. And, for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of his arms, letting the weight of everything fall away.

You felt Matt’s thumb rubbing across your wrist, his breath warm on your ear as he whispered, “You’re not alone in this. Not now. Not ever.”

[multifamdomfan]

Hold It Together

A/N: Frank is my favorite character in Heroes of Olympus and I feel like his trauma isn't talked about enough so here's a fanfic.

Frank didn’t talk about it.

He couldn’t.

Every time he tried, something in his chest tightened, and his mind scrambled to find a way out. He hated feeling vulnerable, hated admitting that he was broken. But the truth was, every time he looked back at his life, he felt like a patchwork of everything that had gone wrong.

He didn’t need anyone else’s pity. He didn’t need to burden them with the weight of his trauma. He didn’t deserve to burden anyone with it.

He had already watched too many people carry their own burdens. Jason, with the weight of being the leader. Percy, with the memories of Tartarus that never seemed to leave him. Leo, with the grief of never having a family to come home to. Hazel, who had fought for so long to reclaim the life she’d lost. Frank couldn’t complain when he was surrounded by people who had lost so much more.

It didn’t feel fair.

But still, Frank pushed it all away.

His mother.

His mother had died when he was too young to remember her voice, too young to remember anything but the look on his grandmother’s face when she told him the news. Emily Zhang had been fighting in the war, giving her life for a cause she believed in. Frank never got to say goodbye. Never got to tell her he loved her. All those years without her, all those questions that he never got to ask, all the time he missed without even knowing her... It ate at him. He buried it deep.

His house.

Frank had never had much, but what he did have was his home. The house that had been a place of comfort, of safety. He had memories there, ones that no one could take from him. And then the fire had come. He was barely there when it happened, but by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. It was all gone. His grandmother had barely survived the flames, but Frank didn’t get to hold her after. Didn’t get to tell her it was okay, that they would be okay. She left him after the fire, and he never got to say goodbye.

His grandmother’s death had felt like the last piece of the world he could hold onto slipping away. She was the only family he had left, the one who had raised him when his mother couldn’t.

And then there was Mars.

Frank had never known his father. For the longest time, he had wondered if his father had even cared about him. When Mars had finally found him, it wasn’t like he’d imagined it. Frank wasn’t welcomed into the godly fold with open arms. No, Mars had treated him like a possession, a vessel for his two conflicting personalities. He had learned that being Mars’s son meant bearing the weight of both Greek and Roman identities—and those voices, those constant arguments in his head between Ares and Mars, never gave him a moment’s peace.

The migraines started then.

They never stopped.

The firewood.

The curse had been the final nail in the coffin. A piece of eternally burning wood that was tied to his very existence. It wasn’t something he could just get rid of. The burning firewood was a reminder—every second of every day—that he was alive, but only because the gods decided he was. That at any given moment, the fire could burn him out, and his life would be extinguished. He had no control over it, no say in when it would end. It wasn’t just fire—it was a constant, inescapable reminder of his own fragility.

It burned. Always.

And yet, despite all of this—despite everything that Frank had endured—he still kept it together. Because he had to. Because his friends had enough to deal with already, and if he let them see just how broken he really was, how shattered he felt inside, he wasn’t sure they’d be able to handle it.

So Frank pretended.

When Percy would glance at him with a concerned look, Frank would smile, shake his head, and say, “It’s fine. Really. Don’t worry about me.” And Percy would frown, because Percy could always tell when something was wrong, but Frank would dodge the conversation, shifting the topic, focusing on something else.

When Annabeth would ask if he was okay, Frank would chuckle and wave it off. “I’m fine, Annabeth. Just tired. It’s nothing.” And Annabeth would look at him for a beat, those sharp eyes of hers always searching, always finding what others missed—but she would let him go. She would nod, and give him that little smile, and Frank would feel like he had won the battle.

But inside, Frank was falling apart.

The nightmares were the worst.

Every night, Frank would wake up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding, his mind replaying the moments he couldn’t forget—the fire, the screams, the weight of his mother’s absence. His grandmother’s weak hand in his, the realization that she wasn’t going to make it. His father’s cold indifference, his body shuddering from the anger that raged inside of him, the headache from the voices battling in his skull.

He’d lie awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to suppress the tears that were always threatening to come. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he pushed it all down, it always came back.

The pain never left.

And there were times, like now, when he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it together. The voices in his head were louder, the fire burning hotter. It was getting harder to fight.

But Frank couldn’t ask for help.

Because if he did, if he admitted just how much it hurt, just how deeply it cut—he was afraid that his world would collapse. He was afraid that if he let himself break, he wouldn’t be able to fix himself again.

He had to keep it together. For them.

Because they were his family. They were his home.

And Frank was afraid that if he didn’t keep it together, if he let the cracks show, they wouldn’t be able to see him the same way again.

[itspileofgoodthings]

ALSO I am learning how to teach very introverted students, something my natural skillset as a teacher does not help me with.

[gay--dog]

it sucks that so many mental illnesses cause things that result in losing weight. im already suffering enough & youre also gonna make me fucking skinny? do you hate me or something? where is my tummy. i hope you die.

[dramarants]

Wanting more homoeroticism in the tension between the show’s leads as the narrative introduces greater intimacy and higher stakes between them, especially in a landscape that lacks queer representation who isn’t a villain or dies within one or two episodes, but also recognizing that core values/motivation for these characters lie in their relationships with one of two major female characters in an on screen sausage fest where the only other woman is a morally reprehensible femme fatale and erasing and/or vilifying female leads in favor of conventionally attractive males is a common practice observed in fandoms that’s rooted in misogyny and justified under the guise of rejecting heteronormativity, thinly veiled double standards, or claiming the woman is simply not interesting enough and not wanting to bolster that mindset

[onawhimsicot]

it would be so niche and i dont even know what id put in it, but ive finally finished listening to the blazing babe arc of naddpod + the short rests and im so tempted to like write the most terrible romance between mavrus and mac. i just think they could be even more worse for each other, their friendship is so toxic in canon and their romance would be even more so and thats why they should kiss about it imho peace and love on planet earth <333

[scrambledjenny]

Depression, dysphoria, and dysmorphia is going hard tonight.

[team--charlotte]

having an almost comically bad couple days so i'm microdosing on all my fixations by alternating episodes of kids in the hall, night court, h2o just add water, and conan o'brien remotes. just having a normal one

[thewanderingace]

I just found a section on my new job's scheduling app (who knew such a thing existed!) where I can set my preferred availability!? They didn't tell me about that! So I set it up so I'm unavailable/prefer not to work every other weekend. Along with the Tuesdays and Thursdays I cannot work. This way I can pick up a shift those weekends if I want to but I could avoid working every single weekend AND it leaves my WWII reenactment weekends available and I'd only need to put in time off requests for the fridays before. I HOPE THIS WORKS AND THAT I DID IT RIGHT AND IT WON'T UPSET MY NEW BOSSES! I'm still gonna work weekends just hopefully every other one and not every single one.

[mouthofthewolf-eyesofthelamb]

.

[too-much-boobus]

THIS IS NOT FUNNY GUYS how to become hot enough to justify being so so selfish how to not die AHGHHH AGHGGHHH I HATE HOMOSEXUALITY I HATE GAY PEOPLE AGGHHGGH literally my only weakness. can u imagine my power if i werent gay. i would die meaningless and alone but at least id know id been perfect by everyone else. i was not built for this i was built to be worshipped and yet here i am GROVELING like a PATHETIC FAGGOT because im WANTING SOMETHING which lends myself to VULNERABILITY AND GIVES THE POWER TO DESTROY ME TO SOMEONE ELSE. and WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO. KILL MYSELF?1?1!1??1? maybe the problem is having self esteem. id say maybe its ok to be this pathetic as long as it makes them love me but it DOESNT EVEN. ITS ANNOYING AND BURDENSOME. i have to suppress myself if i want any of them at all. FUCK MY BAKA LIFE.and im GRATEFUL for this much but i cant help wanting more to the point the need and denial is interfering with my ability to enjoy anything. maybe buddha was right.........

holy shit i just reached the tag limit. anyways im gonna go take a fat shit and pray to god for a system reset soon plzplzplzplz i neeeed it i neeeed to reforge my identity from a depersonalized perspective chat come on its BEEN SO LONG what do i need to do.. ITS NOT MY FAULT NO ONES BEEN TRAUMATIZING ME LATELY come on now:/ i guess thats a good thing but i didnt know i was gonna turn into such a pissbaby afterward 😭 i hate the concept of regression how about im on top of it forever how about i never feel my emotions and never act my age THIS IS TOO SCARY IM SO BAD AT IT AHGHHHHH i will persevere. i just pictured a locked in chad face as a representation of myself and all my mortal complications have been quelled. Get back to work everypony crash out OVER. 😐🧏

#globs #♡

[matryx7728]

anyone else want to rip they guts out when the tummy has the audacity to gurgle

[thelivingsin]

i am HELPLESS.

i think the reason why i'm literally at my lowest point is because i lack physical activity.

i underwent training once, and i want to do it again, but it costs A LOT and i couldn't even restart my habits myself.

stretching my muscles as a first should be enough.