#charlis vents

[averagepinkprincess]

break ups suck

my girlfriend broke up with me. They found out that they're aroace, and they decided that's it's best if we didn't continue with our relationship.

On one hand, I'm glad that they came out to me and didn't continue to be in a relationship they didn't want to be in. I wouldn't want to make them feel like they had to be with me.

but on the other hand....it hurts. it hurts a lot. this was my first real relationship, and i really trusted them. they go to a different school than me, so I don't have to see them again if I don't want to, but I do want to. I want them to hug me and tell me it'll be alright.

I want to see them again, but it might be too soon. I think it's best if we don't talk until i get over my feelings.

life will have to go on.

[ellydrawsstuff]

"Please just stay here with me"

[a-leg-without-fear]

Fucked Up Leg

Wanted to throw my hat in the proverbial ring and try out writing about St. Matthew Murdock. This fic is a little dark as it deals with what I go through with my chronic pain. This is why I am Leg and leg is Me.

Ship: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 1,733

Warnings: cursing, depressive thoughts, talk of doctor visits, talk of dealing with medical issues, an extremely comforting and loving matt murdock

It was half past 9pm when your leg started aching. You sat on the leather couch with a book in your hands and a blanket over your lap. The billboard across the street shined blinding yellows and blues in through the windows, shadows chasing each other along the edges of your vision. The scent of the dinner you’d shared with Matt, fettuccine alfredo with roasted chicken, floated through the air and settled around you. You could hear commotion in the apartment below you. You assumed there were some new neighbors moving in with how much foot traffic there was, but you weren’t quite sure. You, of course, didn’t have Matt’s senses. 

At first, the pain was just a slight twinge, a dull ache. A deep rooted uncomfortableness that seeped from your hip socket and spread throughout your upper thigh. Knowing this was only the start of a quickly worsening night, you retreated to your and Matt's bedroom in an attempt to keep weight off your leg.

Matt was out on his nightly patrols. He had left at around 8, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead and promising to be back before 2am. At the time, the firm deadline appeared a blessing. Usually you would be left in the dark as to how late Matt would be out. Hearing him give you a set time made you breathe a sigh of relief. Now, however, you thought of how far away that curfew seemed as you settled into your shared bed, bracing for the pain to get worse.

You laid on your right side, gingerly placing a thin pillow between your thighs. The little bit of separation between your legs tended to help relieve some of the pressure on your hip socket. You let your knees bend naturally as you tried to get comfortable. The lights from the billboard were less bright in the bedroom. Partially due to the angle of the beacon in the night, but also due to the paper you’d taped to the windows in an attempt to block out any and all light. You could feel the silk sheets slide against your bare legs as your shorts hiked up beneath the covers. You plugged your phone into your, thankfully, long cord that stretched long enough for you to use it on your side. 

You faced the bedroom door, the right side of the bed empty. Not intentionally, as you’d keep off your left leg anyway, but because Matt would lay on the side of the bed between you and any danger. He was sweet like that, always putting himself in harm’s way for you and others. You chuckled to yourself as you began scrolling aimlessly through your phone. You knew for a fact that if Matt could take your reoccurring pain and put it in his leg to give you relief, he would. He would in a heartbeat. Sacrifice his own fighting ability to give you a chance of being able to dance again.

God, you missed dancing. You used to go to dance classes every week, sometimes multiple nights in a row. Letting yourself flow to the music as you followed choreography, bouncing from foot to foot, swaying your hips, laughing when you would mess up. For years that’s how you kept active, kept busy, kept happy.

Until your leg decided to say “fuck you,” that is. The doctors assumed it was “just too much dancing” that did your leg in. What started as a tear in the cartilage in your hip joint spread throughout your thigh as other problems arose. Stress fracture in your femur, a worn ACL, torn muscles under your kneecap. A seemingly never ending list of problems made you debilitated, forcing you to use a cane and, in extreme circumstances, a wheelchair. The doctors tried physical therapy, medication, and even surgery. But the problems kept reappearing. You would have fine mobility and limited aches for a good few months, maybe even a year. But sooner or later that dull ache would find itself rooted in your hip. And you’d just have to strap in for a long ride.

About 10 minutes after you’d laid down the pain got worse. The ache turned into a sharp jab, like someone had stabbed you in the hip and kept the knife there, sliding and slicing to create waves of pain that lasted for minutes at a time. You clenched your jaw as you tried to remain focused on your phone. This wasn’t anything you hadn’t been through before. You could handle this. Of course it felt like a hot poker was stuck in your hip socket, but that was just a regular Tuesday for you.

Then the muscle above your knee twinged. A redhot spark of pain you could feel in your teeth. The pulsing shocks permeated throughout your entire leg, not just your knee. Stacked with the ache in your thigh it was beginning to be unbearable. 

Your phone fell from your hands as your eyes squeezed shut. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering and wincing. Nausea began to build in your stomach and your head began to spin. The muscles beneath your skin started to jump and twitch. You blew a sharp gust of air out of your nose.

“Fuck me,” you whispered. Why? Why, when things are going great, your leg practically lights itself on fire? Just last week you’d helped Matt take out a handful of bank robbers, dodging blows and landing punches like Black Widow herself. Matt had even been impressed at how well you maneuvered yourself. You kicked and squatted and jumped like there was no tomorrow. And not a muscle was out of place the next morning.

Laying in bed, arms wrapped around your trembling body, leg having a tantrum. All you could do was resign yourself to this neverending feeling of hopelessness. Will it ever get better? Is there some magical cure you just haven’t found yet? What are you doing wrong? You could feel yourself spiral in your depression, the minutes and hours blending together to become an ongoing existence of pain. It felt like a rock had sunk itself to the bottom of your stomach. Your heart was racing, anxiety coursing through your veins. Was this what would become of your life? You would be reduced to nothing, just a leg on fire attached to a motionless husk? Would you ever be able to dance again?

“Sweetheart?” a voice rang out from the living room. A familiar, tentative tone laced with concern. Your eyes snapped open to see Matt. Standing just beyond the doorway, all dressed in black, cloth mask in hand, chocolate eyes looking in your general direction. His dark hair was matted to his forehead from the exertion of his nightly outings.

You cleared the edge of pain from your throat, then said, “Yeah?”

Matt was kneeling in front of you on the bed before you could blink. His brow was so tightly furrowed you had the briefest thought it’d stay that way. Warm, large hands began flitting across your body.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Was someone here?” he asked in a flurry of questions. One of his hands landed on your jaw, fingers trailing across where your pulse flowed strongest. The other ended up tangled with your own as you tried to quiet him.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m okay,” you breathed. You brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his bruised knuckles. Matt’s fingers held your hand tighter as he let his eyes fall closed, his breathing slowing. You knew this was what he did when he sent his senses out, listening and smelling and tasting and feeling your body better than you could. His awareness diving deep beneath your skin to seek out anything abnormal.

When his eyes fluttered open, his gaze landed on your chin and a frown settled across his lips.

“It’s your leg again, isn’t it,” Matt said, not posing the phrase as a question. He already knew the answer.

All you could do was nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You could feel the grief of decades of pain and sorrow build along the walls of your throat. Your breathing grew ragged as the tears broke free and slid their way down your flushed cheeks. What if he grew tired of you? Grew tired of constantly needing to take care of you, tired of dealing with the bursts of pain you needlessly endured. A man of his skill, his charisma, his fighting ability. Surely he wouldn’t want to stay with someone as encumbered as you.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Matt gingerly slid his arm beneath your head, letting you cuddle against his chest, as his other arm pulled your torso close to him. His body curled around yours, as if the pain you were feeling was an outside source and he was the shield that protected you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and breathed his comforting scent, cinnamon and smoke, in. Hot tears trailed their way from your eyes and stained his shirt.

“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, lips pressed to the shell of your ear, saying exactly what you needed to hear as if he knew. He slid one of his legs between your thighs, replacing the pillow that was there originally. At first the movement was a shock to your already agonized body. Then, the extra bit of space between your legs lifted some of the pressure on your hip joint. You sighed shakily against Matt’s neck.

The two of you remained that way, Matt’s leg between your thighs, his arm beneath your head, your face tucked against his neck, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into your side. He whispered sweet words of reassurance every now and then. Saying he loved you, he wasn’t going anywhere, he’d help you find a way to fix your leg. 

You knew that soon he’d have to get up to go to work. You knew he’d unwind his limbs from yours, would give you the softest kiss you’ve ever felt, and promise to be back with your favorite foods.

But until then, you would stay tucked in against your Devil. Your guiding light. Your comfort when things were dark. Your relief from a fucked up leg.

[jonnymarzetti]

the end, no safety or surprise, the end, i'll never look into your eyes again

[nicheguides]

How to Distract Yourself from your Quest for Purpose

looking for purpose is hard! harder than you realized… maybe give it a break, just for a bit~

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

vaggie leaves for the afternoon and comes back to find

charlie- covered in notes written in permanent marker

the walls - covered graph paper

the floor - also covered in graph paper

the graph paper - covered in even more sticky notes

angel dust - lounging on a couch enjoying a drink

Vaggie: "I thought you said you'd watch her."

Angel Dust: "And I AM watchin' her." (sips drink loudly through a party straw) "Your girlfriend's a mess when you're not here, by the way."

Charlie: "VAGGIE YOU'RE BACK oh thank fuck I've had SO many thoughts while you gone and I've tried SO MANY different ways not to forget them before I've told them to you!!!" (grabs vaggie's hand and drags her over) "Look, see? If we start on the bottom left corner of the room and follow my train of thought up the nearest bookshelf-"

[iamhereonlytobeanunstableshipper]

Projecting on fictional characters is not enough anymore i need to be loved

[3447]

[ennard-is-near]

Pizzeria Sim has wild implications why are all the animatronics ignoring each other just to harass Michael? Literally hilarious.

[deus-sema]

The discourse surrounding Sauron and Galadriel about love and obsession has been rather interesting to catch up with so far. After going through the perspectives of both those who like this pairing and those who don’t, I think both sides can unite in agreement over this one fact, if nothing else: obsession, without any shred of doubt, exists between them. It exists on both sides for she has been obsessed with him long before he was with her. Yes, it was motivated by unadulterated hatred and a desire for vengeance, but he occupied her thoughts for the better or worse. Now, she has planted herself in his mind too.

Then comes the question of whether whatever there is between them can be considered romantic or not. Is it appropriate to label it as love or not? Here it is a matter of preference which differs from person to person. What will be interpreted as romantic by one may not be so by another and vice versa. It is completely understandable why many will be uncomfortable with the notion of obsession being associated with love. Obsession – over anything and anyone – is usually an unhealthy emotion. Unwanted and unpredictable, it can prove detrimental to both the individual experiencing it as well as the people around them. In the real world, it needs to be recognized for what it is and addressed for the betterment of everyone.

But, herein lies the difference between the world we exist in and fictional worlds. Every work of fiction, regardless of genre, exists on a different plane whose happenings have no bearing on our reality. Fiction is a realm of infinite possibilities which is the reason why people use it for wish fulfillment. People can’t fly or use magic for real but they can do so in a make-believe world. People can cheat death and turn over a new leaf. Foes can become friends and overcome their grievances. They can live happily ever after without any worries about betrayal or loss. It is a place where ideal and unconditional love is allowed to thrive. Simultaneously, it is also where love can exist in flawed, twisted and, even, perverse forms. It can be greedy, possessive, selfish, and warped while still retaining its essence. That is probably the reason why many, myself included, are fascinated with the idea of stories with obsessive love. With the idea of an all-consuming desire and yearning on one character’s part for another that can go on to be destructive. With the concept of evil beings experiencing love. It is why obsession fueled by love, whether executed properly or not, is an integral component of many dark romances. Within stories, it is permitted to be what it is most certainly not in reality. In real life, no emotion – not even what we believe to be love – should override our individual well being or anyone else’s. This is why fiction is a safe space to explore fantasies. Even the most incredulous ones of all.

Now, about how I interpret Sauron and Galadriel, specifically, within the context of this show: It is love. They developed feelings for each other when their paths crossed unexpectedly and they forged an unlikely bond because of the circumstances they faced together. Simple. Unintentionally, Galadriel began to care for her greatest enemy and believed him to be her friend. She is still obsessed with defeating him but whatever she felt for Halbrand now exists alongside her hatred for Sauron. Meanwhile, Sauron is still pretty much evil. He is working to further his own interests or,rather,what he thinks to best for Middle Earth. But, at the same time, he desires Galadriel. Both were visibly attracted to one another in the first season. Even though no words were said, Charlie and Morfydd, being the phenomenally talented and intelligent actors that they are, conveyed it beautifully through their expressions and body language. I don’t think it is a betrayal to the characters either for the show, more or less, took Sauron’s canonical obsession with Galadriel and her persistent defiance against him and added to it a layer of romance which is doomed because of who they are. I don’t claim to know what the show plans on doing with them in future and it is not in my hands. We can only speculate, engage in wishful thinking and write fanfics and AUs if things don’t go the way we want them to.

RoP is a show I’m enjoying so far in all its aspects and I’m not exaggerating when I say that its fandom is one of the most chilled-out and relaxing ones I’ve engaged with in recent times. I’ve gotten to interact with many amazing posts. However I’m well aware that where there is more than one person, there are differences in opinions. Where there are differences, there will be disagreements. Where there are disagreements, there will be clashes. Clashes will lead to fanwars. Fanwars have high chances of turning toxic. I know the drill for I have undergone it in many fandoms. I’ve been carried away by the toxicity and have made my fair share of mistakes too. Those experiences have taught me some important lessons. One mistake I made, rather repeatedly, during my…..enthusiastic….stanning phase was to engage in fights with people whose opinions on a certain topic or fictional character differed from mine. All factions believe their interpretation of whichever nonexistent character they like in whatever made-up story they are into, is the correct one and many a times they can substantiate their claims with reasons. Sometimes, these contrasting opinions lead to some riveting and respectful discussions between people which, to be honest, is the entire point behind a public platform. Sometimes, they result in nasty fights.

Ideally, the feelings of real people should be prioritized over seemingly trivial issues like different preferences in fiction. But if we were capable of that we would all be perfect but, as we all know, perfection exists only in Valinor. Fictional works are dearer to us than some random stranger on the internet. So, when we encounter a radically different opinion about something we are passionate about, the first reaction is usually one of annoyance. Depending on whether it is mild or severe, this annoyance can make us petty. We crave the satisfaction of one-upping those who disagree with us, of validating our perspective over their’s and, as a result, we don’t realize if someone’s feelings get hurt in the process. Or even if we do, the euphoria of ‘winning’ in the discourse makes it easier to sweep the adverse effects under the rug. I don’t believe we need to withhold our opinions to make others happy. We are not bound to understand each other's opinions, much less agree every time. But we do owe it to each other to be civil if not anything else. As for me, what I’m going to try and do is to ignore the takes I disagree with and mind my own business. If it gets too much then I am going to press the block button. I advise those who dislike my opinions and takes to do the same. It’s nothing personal and we all deserve to enjoy in our own spaces while choosing what content we wish to see and engage with without suppressing our thoughts. We deserve to vent as well for it is healthy. I cannot guarantee that I’ll be successful right away for there are still instances when I end up behaving in a manner that is plain immature. But, to paraphrase the late Diarmid who once tried to counsel Sauron (Eru bless his soul), I simply have to keep trying until it becomes a habit.

So, take care everyone, and I hope you all are doing well wherever you are.

[averagepinkprincess]

I think my friend might have an ED.

[jamespotterandcharliespringkin]

[yoshipupz]

why is bro sad….

Why. Why is he crodeing. Why is he cried.. why is he cryding on the Charlie plush.

cough . I made this drawing cuz I was down in the dumps so I wanted to draw something sad and this is what I came up with. I guess art really is therapy since halfway through drawing this I changed my sad playlist to my happy playlist awww yeah

also I have no specific interpretation or story behind this drawing, I just drew whatever I felt like drawing in the moment, so if anyone has any interpretations of what this piece could be about then lmk in the comments - or tags if u decide to reblog this - cuz I’d like to hear them c:

[anonymouscheeses]

Tw: themes of sa and alot of blood (Angel blood but still)

(Vent)

They won't believe me. I didn't even understand what it was. I was so young and uncomfortable but I still didn't understand what was happening. I could have stopped it, they were in the next room, I could have told them. But it's long past me and the fact I just figured out what happened, I keep telling myself it doesn't count. I'm lying to myself. It didn't happen the same way here, but God i wish I was lucky enough to have someone to tell. And now it's happening all over again. With another family member. And I can't say anything because no one would believe me. It's not the same as before but he's my dad, my fucking dad. I see him everyday. And it's when he's drunk, he wouldn't even remember. I wish he would stop looking at my body like that. I'm his daughter. I wish he didn't touch me. I want it to be over. I want to go home. I am home. But I never feel like I am and I can't take it anymore. I want God to take me to heaven already.

[enixamyram]

Okay, I don't know how many people here listens to Epic The Musical about Odysseus. (Fantastic songs, can't stop listening to them myself.)

But I'm kind of flabbergasted by the TikTok videos I keep seeing where people are more pissed about Eurylochus opening the bag than Odysseus sacrificing six men???

One was admittedly a really stupid move and Eurylochus should be held accountable even if it was an accident but Odysseus literally picked six people to die without them even knowing. Like, if we're gonna compare situations then Eurylochus' mistake is better matched with Odysseus telling the Cyclops his name (another stupid mistake). Why are people comparing a dumb mistake with literal murder??? And why are people saying Odysseus is the better choice in it?!?!

Like, am I the crazy on here???

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

For vaggie that spear is her support animal/therapist

For charlie, it's a rival she'd like to throw in lava but can't cause, it's vaggies support 'animal'

silly headcanon plot twist- Charlie's jealously at the spear ISN'T silly or irrational at all, it's a subconscious manifestation of Charlie's desperation for her girlfriend to actually open up emotionally to HER instead of to a WEAPON, confide fears and problems in CHARLIE, and a very frustrated, very also-emotionally-constipated-in-her-own-way Charlie doesn't wanna pin that frustration on Vaggie directly so she deflects all her anger to the spear, which as an inanimate objects, can't get any hurt feelings over this or decide Charlie is too much and dump her

we've done it. we've cracked the silly headcanon and found the angst waiting underneath XD XD XD

or maybe the above is all just what the hazbin crew speculates together, in their weekly "there's no way those two idiots don't have shit going on in their relationship" chaggie hotel gossip meet-ups