#they of their own volition chose to enter

[gingermintpepper]

I can't quite remember where it was I read the statement but this reminds me very much of the whole "a lot of people who do greek myth retellings either treat it like christian text or are working out previous religious feelings in their work" argument I've seen with respect to trying to get to the bottom of the obsession with not only deposing Zeus but making him an unceremonious tyrant.

There is a very real and very prevalent belief that pagan gods can never be 'good' because they do not adhere to that Christian principle of 'a supreme god must always act in the interest of humanity' that just absolutely poisons any kind of potentially interesting portrayal of Zeus and the gods that could exist in something like Kaos. Combined with the staunch cultural belief that oligarchies are always evil and corrupt and that only humans could ever know what's best for humanity (aka free will >>>> determinism which like, fundamentally goes against one of the pillars of what we know about ancient greek theology) and you just end up with a lot of people who feel like they 'know better' than the gods and as such are completely uninterested in engaging with the material in an even superficially good faith perspective.

It's extremely frustrating all around -.-

What's so frustrating with so many/most(?) modern adaptations of Greek myth, whether they're doing some original story (like Kaos) or retellings, is the way they go with the gods being villains, killing/deposing Zeus and/or the gods in general, etc and so on

And like

I'm not INTO Greek myth for you to kill the gods in general or Zeus in specific/deposing him (who are you putting in his place and why are we supposing that individual would be any better?), etc and so on.

I'm here for the gods, and them being exactly where/as they are in the internal world of the myths and the story! If all you can come up to do with them is making them villains and removing them, what good are you???

[neoyorzapoteca]

"Ambivalence about responsibility for our own freedom does not mean we are stupid, self-destructive, incapable, or desirous of harm. It means we are human. And part of being human is not always wanting every moment of our lives to be a step on a long march toward emancipation and enlightenment. It also means contending with desires to circle or enter dark rooms.

Alcoholic or no, most who drink do so in part to ease the terrible burden of our volition; we drink in part because it can be delightful and exciting as much as scary and awful to “let things happen,” to find yourself in places and with people your sober self might not have sought, or might have outright rejected. This can be especially so for those of us socialized to be fearful. I was a pretty fearful kid, raised in the shadow of the sexualized murder of my aunt, and the teenage troubles of my wayward older sister. I thus found no small measure of euphoria and relief in tossing my drunken, twentysomething body upon the whims of late-night New York City, stumbling home regularly at 3:00 a.m. with a wad of waitressing cash stuffed in my bra or shoe. The problem, of course, is that the very substance that allows you to feel this freedom is the self-same substance that inhibits your capacity to remove or protect yourself if a situation becomes unwanted or dangerous. There is no magic cure for this dilemma; it is a knot with which each of us must grapple. Only we can know when we’ve had enough of the kind of wonky judgment that comes with combining sex and substance; it took me until I was thirty-three to have had enough. Some of my times were good and some were bad (none, thankfully, was catastrophically bad). But they were my times—I chose them, until I chose another way. I know—if and when you’re under the sway of a substance, it might not feel like you’re choosing anything. But one revelation of sobriety is that you actually can choose another way, even if this choice depends, paradoxically, on surrendering your illusion of control, and tiring of the particular brand of freedom that the substance has to offer."

Maggie Nelson, On Freedom: Four Songs of Care and Constraint

[ranpazz]

𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆.

cw: fem!reader, food play, aphrodisiacs, Ranpo is a little mean, cunnilingous, slight fingering, nipple play, throat-fucking, A little degradation, praise kink (Ranpo), multiple rounds implied(i got lazy), not proofread, etc.. —HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR SWEET BOY. (I didn't make this last minute idk what ur saying.)

Having a boyfriend who's childish is one thing, but when it's his birthday and he demands to be spoiled rotten is a whole different issue. You've been tending to his every need out of your own volition, feeding him, carrying him, and spoiling him whenever he desired. Now, you were a patient woman, especially with your boyfriend, but you think he was going a bit overboard with demands.

Moreover, you believed it was becoming somewhat unfair with how much Ranpo was bossing you around. This was nothing new, but the sheer amount of demands flying out of his mouth became enough. Which is exactly why you decided to take matters into your own hands. Since he enjoys having you feed him so much, you chose to give him aphrodisiac chocolates. A part of you believed he would see right through it, yet he didn't reject nor show any signs of knowing about the sweets. But you knew better.

Which, inevitably so, leads you to now. And for once, he wasn't lazy about something. The birthday boy himself was on his knees, stuffing his face between your legs out of desperation for some sort of relief— which he was denied of. "Mmpffh– you're doing so good… about time, Ranpo." The noirnette in question whined, flicking his tongue repeatedly over your clit before dipping back into your hole.

"Fuck– good boy… -" You breathed out. Meanwhile, Ranpo keened from your praise, using your words as another reason to pull yet another orgasm from you— and perhaps more praise. He kept your legs spread, brows furrowed as he stuffed his face impossibly further into your sweet pussy.

"Feels s'good, keep going- shit. M'gonna cum-" You whined, and just when you thought the pleasure couldn't get anymore overwhelming, Ranpo decided to slip two fingers inside your sopping cunt. He immediately found that gummy spot inside of you, curling his fingers with precision. Your jaw fell slack, moans spilling from your mouth faster than you can register them.

"Fuck! Cumming, Ranpo!" And not even a full second later, you felt the rope in your tummy snap, white hot pleasure overtaking your senses as Ranpo's tongue pushed you into overstimulation as he lapped up your release like a starved man. It became too much, resulting in you tugging him away from your sloppy pussy by his hair.

For a moment you swore you could cum again just by the look on his face. Those gorgeous green eyes were half-lidded, his hair was disheveled, your juices drenching his chin, and he was panting like a dog. Unfortunately, you didn't get to admire the moment for too long. Ranpo pushed you back onto the bed, climbing atop your body and planting himself on your waist.

"I think it's my turn to have my fun, doncha think, sweetheart?" He grinned, and you knew that smile all too well. A familiar flash of mischief, and he was definitely going to use it against you eventually. You watched as he snatched the can of whipped cream off the nightstand— the same one he was eating before you forced the man on his knees the moment you entered the bedroom.

"You're not seriously going too- Ah!" You were cut off by your own gasp, the coldness of the sweet topping enveloping your breasts. "Oh but I am. After all, I'm still the birthday boy." He grinned after he had applied a generous amount to his liking, he tossing the can aside on the mattress before he practically buried his face in your mounds.

A whine left your lips as he swirled his tongue around your areola, teasing you for the earlier treatment. The whipped cream was smeared across your chest—he was a messy eater after all. His free hand reached for your other breast, groping it before rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he was making you feel good in such a way. As you bit your lip in an attempt to muffle the noises that threatened to spill from your lips, the birthday boy wasn't having it. She pinned your wrist above for head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Tsk tsk. That's no fair is it? I moaned for you, its only natural you do the same in return."

That was your only warning before two fingers were plunged into your warmth, tearing a moan from your throat. Ranpo seemed pleased with himself, pumping his fingers inside of you before removing his slick-coated fingers from your pussy. You whined at the loss, only to be shut up once he slipped his fingers in your mouth. The first thing you noticed was that your juices weren't the only thing you're tasting.

Ranpo had dipped his fingers in the whipped cream before he forced them into your mouth. He held back a groan from the sight, waiting until his fingers were sucked clean before pulling them from your mouth. "I think you sound much better than me with your mouth shut."

He chuckled before taking your nipple into his mouth, warm tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. "Ah-! Fuck, Ranpo-" You choked out, straining against his grasp on your wrists as you arched up slightly. Ranpo didn't relent, instead focusing on your other nipple as he licked your breasts clean.

"Mmhph-." That was all you got in response, him being too busy stuffing his face to give you a proper reply. The heat that pooled in your tummy was becoming hard to ignore, yet that was another story once Ranpo pulled away from your tits after what seemed like hours. "Y'know, I've been dealing with this for a while, baby. Wanna help me out?"

It took you a moment to figure out what he was talking about, that was until you felt something hard poke your thigh. Ranpo smirked as he released your wrists, tugging down his sweatpants just enough to reveal his hard cock. His tip was flushed an angry red, precum seeping from his slit. You were shocked to say the least, you'd never seen him this worked up before. The power of aphrodisiacs, you guessed.

He crawled forward, his cock practically taunting you as it stood against his pale stomach. It had more girth than length, a perfect mix that pleased you on multiple occasions.

"Well? Open up, pretty. M'gonna shut that filthy mouth of yours." He mused, cupping your chin with his free hand before forcing his thumb into your mouth. Once you finally parted your lips, he wasted no time in shoving his length down your throat.

"Mmffph!"

You couldn't get a word in. Literally. Your mouth was stuffed full of his dick, gagging and choking around his length. He sighed before shaking his head, reaching for the whipped cream that was once forgotten on the bed. "Were you so busy moaning like a slut to even spare some spit? I can't even move like this, baby."

The audacity of this man. He still scolded you when it was his cock in your mouth. His ego was far too high to ever come down, and you couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

He pulled out of your mouth, giving you the rare chance to breathe before spurting the whipped topping into your mouth. It was somewhat melted, but it aided the dryness in your throat. "There we go. Now stay just like that…fuck!"

He slid his cock back into your mouth, the whipped cream surrounding him and the warmth of your tongue pressing flat against a vein along his shaft drove him insane. He began thrusting into your mouth, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat each time, causing your eyes to brim with tears.

"Haah– fuck. This is a perfect use for that…ngh pretty mouth of yours." He ranted, entangling his hand in your hair and forcing you to take more of him. You snapped out of your trance, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him off. Your tongue swirled around his tip, teasing his slit just how he liked. The taste of his precum lingered, the saltiness a stark contrast to the sweet flavor of the whipped cream

"Yeah, good girl– keep going just like that…damn." His hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth, his trimmed pubes tickling your nose with each thrust. It wasn't long before his grunts and whines became more breathy, a telltale he was close. You brought a hand to lightly squeeze his balls, pushing him closer towards the edge. The action tore a throaty whine from his throat, tossing his head back as he neared his climax.

"Just a little more… please, I'm so close, 'm g'nna cum-" You could feel your lungs screaming at you, desperate for the oxygen that he denied you of. After a couple more thrusts, he released his warm load down you throat to which you swallowed every last drop. He pulled out of you mouth not long after, leaving you gasping for air.

"You're so dramatic, y'know that, baby?" He teased, shifting off your trembling body and adjusting his sweatpants before leaving the room. He then returned with a glass of water— that you graciously accepted. You sat up straight, downing the water like a lifeline.

Once you finished off the liquid, you set the glass aside on the nightstand. "You're mean, Ranpo." You grumbled, pouting at the man. However, you couldn't use his own tricks against him.

"You're the mean one. Feeding me aphrodisiac chocolates knowing I can't resist snacks!" He retorted, climbing onto the bed with you before kissing your cheek. His words shocked you. So he was aware the entire time? Then how come-

"Feel grateful. The greatest detective in the world felt bad for bossing you around, so I ate your stupid candy." Despite his words being a bit egocentric and whiney, you still appreciated his little 'sacrifice' to please you. With a smile, you snaked your arms around his neck and pulled him down beside you. "Thank you, baby. I love you."

"I love you too, sugar."

.

.

.

"I'm still horny. Wanna another round?"

"Ranpo!"

[siriusremusblack]

(Yes I'm sending another ask) I heard someone say that the Malfoys were the best parents, what are your thoughts on this? And could you make a rank from the best parents to the worst?

Hm, the Malfoy’s did genuinely love their son and shower him with affection, so they are definitely up at the top of the list I’d say! Now I won’t make this list very long only a couple will be ranked-

Best to worst Harry Potter Parents:

Up at number one we have Aragog and his wife. Alright, alright- hear me out- yes, I know they were spiders- Aragog kept his children in a cave. Safe and away from any threats. He would get them food, and if anyone or thing entered their cave by their own volition- he allowed his children to have a snack. Aragog the spider always seemed to put his children above all else, intruders? Well. Now they’re food, no longer can they be a possible threat to their nest-

At number two we got Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy! Both of them shower Draco with love and affection. They genuinely love and care for him, while they are DE’s they still put their child before Voldemort’s plan as seen with Narcissa lying to him for her son!

In third place we have Neville’s grandma. Neville’s grandma, while harsh and scary to Neville, she did genuinely cared for her grandson. She took care of him while his parents were.. unable to. She was harsh and strict because she cared, she was scared he’d end up like his parents. We don’t see much of her though so we can’t say for certain how good of parent she was, but I think she was pretty ok so she takes spot number three on this list.

Fourth place goes to the Weasley’s. They did genuinely love all their children- but at times it did seem they chose favorites. They didn’t have a lot of money while having a big family, but that was because of their beliefs in muggles and muggleborns. They were not pureblood supremacists but they were pureblooded. They taught their children to do the right thing and to stand up for what they believe in. That is some good parenting but the favoritism and seeming to care more about outsiders than your own children- that’s what brings them down in this list. I’m not saying they were necessarily bad- they stuck to their beliefs and brought up their children to do the same.. they were genuinely caring but sometimes it showed more through outsiders than through their own children.

Fifth place goes to the Dursley’s. Their parenting methods were pretty bad. For both Harry and Dudley. Dudley basically got helicopter parenting, making him full of himself and arrogant. He was rarely ever told no or reprimanded. That doesn’t help a child grow up maturity wise. Harry on the other hand, while not being their child was still in their care. They absolutely despised him- because of him being a wizard- yet they wouldn’t tell him the reasons he was so hated or why things would happen on their own. They left him in the dark, they often abused him emotionally and verbally- and let Dudley bully him. So they’re pretty low on the list.

At the absolute worst parents award on this list goes to the Prince’s. Snape’s parents. Tobias Snape was abusive and neglectful. He lost all their money causing the family to be poor and live in a run down neighborhood. Eileen, while better than Tobias, was still pretty neglectful. While she didn’t outright physically or mentally abuse Snape, Neglect is counted as a form of abuse. Childhood Emotional Neglect or CEN can be the cause of disorders- (but I won’t get into that right now). Because of how they treated their only child who had done nothing but existed by their doing- it puts them at the very bottom.

[myloveismineallmine]

Part 4!

back to claire and carmy. and this one is.... very funny to me actually

Song: Vega Tables - Brian Wilson

On fak walking in on sugar in the bathroom:

I tried to kick the ball but my tenny flew right off I'm red as a beet 'cause I'm so embarassed

fak walks in on nat, an embarrassing situation, fitting lyric here.

fak walks away, camera focuses on carmy serving claire & co, carmy tells claire she looks great:

(Mom and Daddy says)

Sleep a lot eat a lot brush em like crazy Run a lot do a lot never be lazy (boy)

carm walks over to sugar and asks if their mom came, and then asks why she's covered in water:

Sleep a lot eat a lot brush em like crazy Run a lot do a lot never be lazy (boy)

carmy hallucinates his previous boss:

(Wordless Vocals)

the song then fades away as carmen re-enters the kitchen.

so, yeah, that's it.

on the surface, this is a weird song choice. the only super fitting lyric is the one that's on fak about being "red as a beet." but considering how on the nose a lot of the music is, it would be strange for them to choose this song for that one singular line. like, this song isn't even popular enough to justify it being randomly played in the restaurant.

so, we gotta really use our brains and think about the context here.

plot recap time:

richie tells carmy that claire is on 31 and that he needs to say hi. carmy is like "Uhhh... eventually." richie insists he does it right away, carmy tells him no, they argue a bit, and eventually richie backs off.

some time passes....

carmy says he needs hands for table 31. syd is like "yeah, that's claire." (this bitch ALREADY forgot where his gf was) carmy's immediate reaction is "fuck, yeah, that's right. uh...."

he reluctantly says he'll do it, syd is like "is now the best time for that?"

he pulls THIS FUCKING FACE:

which he keeps on the whole walk out, like, this man is clearly terrified.

now let's look at the context of the song:

brian wilson was kind of a health nut, so the song is about how eating vegetables is good for you. while he actually enjoyed vegetables, the song is more satirical, and more about doing things your parents tell you to do (such as eating your vegetables.)

this is especially apparent with the lines on carmy and claire:

(Mom and Daddy says)

Sleep a lot eat a lot brush em like crazy Run a lot do a lot never be lazy (boy)

sleep, brush your teeth, exercise and work hard like your parents tell you to.

this in conjunction with richie telling carmy to go see claire, along with him, mikey and fak continuously telling him to pursue claire, really makes me think this song was chosen to reinforce that carmy feels obligated to be with claire because of expectations of others rather than out of his own volition.

like, think about it. a song about how you should listen to your parents and brush your teeth? while a character is supposed to be serving his girlfriend a nice dinner? for what reason???

i made a whole post about how carmy and claire's dates are literally just things that are technically chores. coincidently, doing chores is another thing, like eating vegetables, your parents will make you do.

the whole theme with claire seems to be doing things you don't really want to do, but others do want to see you do. which is ironic, because it completely contradicts carmy claiming that being with claire is for "fun and amusement."

i feel like carmen is just plagued with... doing everything everyone else wants him to do. he thinks claire is fun and amusing because people are telling him that she is good for him. he is literally panicking so many times he's confronted with her, but people say he needs a girlfriend, so he thinks they must be right.

on a happier note. the writers/editors were probably giggling and kicking their feet when they chose this song. like, oh the dumb song about eating your vegetables? by the beach boys? and we're gonna use it to represent how carmy doesn't feel happy with claire? hehehe the viewers won't get it but it'll be funny for us. i'm onto you guys, i see you...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

[dextixer]

The hypocritical Woobification of Raven Branwen

I dont think it is a secret to anyone who has followed any RWBY discourse, that female characters are treated VERY differently from male ones in the wider fandom, especially in regards to the morality of their actions. I dare anyone who wishes to enter the words like "Raven" "Ironwood" "Adam" "Cinder: and the like into the search bar of websites like twitter and even Reddit to some extent. What you will find more often than not, besides fan-art and porn are discussions about these characters.

After browsing through these discussions one can quickly notice a pattern. Ironwood and Adam are either demonized or have complicated discussions surrounding them. While characters like Raven and Cinder, while having their detractors mostly have discussions focused on shipping or on justifying/excusing their actions.

Raven Branwen is of course, the most iconic example of this.

Raven Branwen in Canon

In the canon of RWBY, Raven Branwen and her brother Qrow both hail from a bandit tribe. They were sent to Beacon to learn how to kill hunters where they learn the values of family and friendship, with team STRQ becoming close. Raven even marries Tai, her teammate and has a kid with him, then ditches him with the child and leaves Summer to come into the picture while Qrow remains an eternal bachelor.

It is revealed to us that Ozpins tendency to keep secrets is what lead Raven to losing trust and leaving the side of good. That, and feat of Salem who she knows is immortal and thus cannot be killed directly.

She returns to her bandit tribe and becomes a bandit queen, killing entire villages for loot and plunder. One of which we can see in the show.

Her becoming a bandit is not something that was thrust upon her, she was not forced to do it or anything of the sort. She chose to do it under her own volition.

Her only "redeeming" point is not being allied to Salem and having a "I will save you once" rule with those she knows and nothing more.

And yet...

Raven Branwen in Fanon

If we were to follow the most common discussions of Fanon then Raven is a tragic lesbian who could never be with Summer, a mother who understood her limits and wanted her daughter to have a better life than with her and who was forced into the position of providing for her tribe and had absolutely no choice but to raid villages for survival of her poor tribe.

If people arent thirsting over Raven herself and or her "romance" with Summer then one can always find many excuses and people calling her a "tragic" and "understandable" figure. They will say that "Shes not perfect" and things like that when in reality, Raven Branwen is just a straight up evil person in the story. Complicated? Yes. Evil? Also yes.

Her only saving grace is that most of the time she is not an antagonist. And she is not related to Salem and in fact would oppose her if she wasnt a coward. And yet, her actions, her being a literal murderous bandit seem to be ignored by a lot of the fandom.

The same fandom that will give shit to Ironwood for bringing 3 airships to Vale and calling it a "military occupation" and Adam wanting to blow up a train (with its crew) will then turn around and pretend that Raven killing innocent villages for shits and giggles on her own volition never happened.

They will cry about how Ironwood and Adam never deserved redemption! How they are deeply evil and have always been deeply evil people, while convincing everyone that Raven is perfect for redemption and was just "forced" to be a bandit queen.

The hypocricy of the RWBY FNDM is staggering, but not news.

What is worse however is how Raven is seemingly receiving the same if not even faster way of redemption that Emerald has. By now most people have probably seen both the RWBY:Beyond first episode and of course the ending animatic. And who else is there in Vacuo if not Raven. Shes just there. Like she just belongs amongst the heroes despite being a literal BANDIT QUEEN.

Despite Ironwood and Adam turning evil they had a good cause at the end of the day. A cause they wanted to fight for.

And instead the people praise and want the redeption of a terrorist who worked for Salem and a literal bandit queen, both of whom did the things they did out of selfish needs? Seriously?

Whats worse is that it seems that CRWBY is more than okay with that. It seems that this is at least currently one of their goals. Which to me is just staggering.

Conclussion i guess

Sorry for the ranty nature of this post. I know that im preaching to the choir but i just needed to get this out of my chest after seeing 10000000000000 posts about Raven and Summer fucking on twitter. Because yeah, THATS Ravens most identifying feature, being a girlkisser. After fucking years of being called a fascist and a bootliker for simply saying that Ironwoods heel turn was shittily done and that SOME of his plans were good it fucking maddens me to see people simp for a literal BANDIT QUEEN without push-back.

[medlarmeadows]

Sparknotes version of qBads lore?

(us Ghosties have multiple thousand pages documents trying to put shit together soooo we don't know EVERYTHING about qBad but we know some backstory so I'll just give you the basics)

qBad was an angel, what type of rank we have no idea, however at some point a couple millennia ago he fell from Grace and became a fallen angel, aka, a demon, just not a hellborn one like qMrouse.

At some point after his fall he took on a job position as a Grim Reaper after training for centuries with one of many other Grim reapers

He's dropped tons of random lore bits about his life throughout time but they're not really relevant

I'm talking, shit like; he knew Darwin, he and Foolish were both in Pompeii when Vesuvius erupted (he was on vacation, he has no idea why Foolish was there), he witnessed the extinction of the dinosaurs when he was in heaven and had a hand in it, etc.

THEN he decided to take a vacation on Quesadilla Island of his own volition to take a temporary break from his Grim Reaper responsibilities since he hadn't had a break in centuries

Although he obviously got stuck on the island and oddly enough, he still didn't even manage to escape his responsibilities having canonically been the one to help Trump, Tilin, Juana, Bobby and Max cross over the river, to guide them into the spiritual plane.

Lore on the island wise, it's mostly a lot of little things but the I'll summarize the current storyline

When the eggs disappeared qBad began torturing himself with soul vultures, having them eat at him, which caused his soul to leak out of his body and decay.

During the nuke at the end of Purgatory qBad shielded Dapper with his body, tanking a nuke hit to the back since neither of them made it onto the boat on time.

This radiation rapidly increased qBads physical decay and for MONTHS Bad was walking around practically dead but was forcing himself to keep it together because he was still needed but eventually his physical body just gave out on him.

Because of this, qBad recently died and returned to the place he visits every time his physical body dies. Although this time he was given a chance to re-enter the heavens after millennia as a demon, however he chose to return to the mortal plane because he couldn't bear to leave 'the little ones' (all the eggs) alone.

As a high ranking demon qBad is able to die and come back without physical issues but every reincarnation he has to recollect his memories.

Also, fun fact, when he dies to something he comes back immune to the thing that killed him! qBad is canonically immune to decapitation (French revolution), being burnt at the stake (Salem witch trials), being drowned with his feet in cement (the mob), falling down stairs (we don't ask) and now the soul decay+radiation poisoning combo!

His current reincarnation remembers absolutely nothing of the past year, but he does have memories.

He remembers him and Foolish in somewhere similar to Egypt (the summer home), he also recognizes qPhil although hasn't specified how and remembers qCellbit from the Hunger Games which canonically happened 10 years before the island so he has memories but they're not up to date.

BADBOYHALO LORE!!!! THANK YOU ANON (also are we canonically married bcos im a tubbling? hehe)

roughly i was aware about q!bad's immortality plus the losing of memories when he came back, but ohohoho this gives me so much more depth

fallen angel bad? what an interesting tidbit of information. and the fact that this immortal being became so attached to the eggs that he chose to stay on the mortal plane for them

funniest bit i know is bad trying to get foolish involved in immortals lore and foolish just avoiding it like his life depends on it KEK

wait does this mean q!bad as the grim reaper saw when q!tubbo died? does it count i can't remember if q!tubbo has a soul because of Creation and all that

[maddiebiscuits]

Poor Scotch, he wanted to say hello and sniff Smokey but Smokey was too scared…nobody care him…

Do not worry! Obviouslg I am supervising them both, but Smokey and Scotch actually get along well, Smokey is a naturally skittish cat. He chose to enter the room of his own volition seeing Scotch inside, and leave when Scotch hopped over for sniffing - Smokey’s not stressed, and Scotch is safe…just dejected…

[rillils]

yeah ok but like what if crowley enters the church, walks in front of the altar, bottle of wine in his hand, goes on his knees and prays?

and if he begs for aziraphale to come back and azi could hear him but cant do anything about it? if it burns crowley to just be in that church but to pray on his knees for aziraphale, just to be ignored?

what then?

SO YOU CHOSE VIOLENCE TODAY HUH

legit i can't even bring myself to consider this, it's too painful 😭

crowley still nursing the tiniest glimmer of hope in his heart, and going back to church over and over again, no matter how much it burns to kneel down.

picking a different church each time because you never know, maybe in the previous one the acoustics just weren't right, or the ground not hallowed enough, and his whispered words of prayer didn't carry far enough for aziraphale to hear them. a guy-shaped being can hope, right? even though that hope keeps shrinking and shriking until he can barely feel its warmth in his heart anymore.

i just. no okay, just, just let me, just for a second, 'kay, 'cause i love angst as much as the next person but i can only handle it IF.

aziraphale can't respond, right? can't do anything, can't just slink down to earth and scoop crowley in his arms and say it's all right, i hear you, i love you, i always have and i always will, i can't imagine living for the rest of eternity without you by my side. but. but but but but butt butt.

maybe the next time crowley enters a church, and stares into the baptismal font for a bit too long, crushed and heartbroken and lost, the surface of the holy water starts to gently ripple without anyone touching it - and a flicker of blue eyes and white curls startles him out of his reverie.

maybe the next time he's on his knees, and he whispers aziraphale's name in the solemn silence of the church, so soft that his breath doesn't even stir the dust motes dancing in this sunbeam, all the candles suddenly flicker to life of their own volition, their little flames trembling just like crowley knows he's trembling - so tiny and so fragile, yet so fucking stubborn.

maybe the next time he goes to walk into a church, the door gently opens for him, without him wishing it to, inviting him in from the cold.

maybe... just maybe, you know? maybe his hope doesn't have to die, not just yet.

[decadentpandawasteland]

Hi, here is the next part of my Revenge Series. Please feel free to leave any and all feedback, and as always, thanks for reading :)

---------------------------------------------------

Everything was dark. Everything hurt. It felt like he'd been run over by a caravan.

“What… what happened?” Nicolas thought to himself. He opened his eyes only to be met with the exact same darkness as when they were closed. He could tell he was on a bed. Nicolas moved his arms and legs. They weren't shackled, but they hurt a lot. The last thing he remembered was, what? Arguing with Master Quin. Following that pull that took him…

Nicolas shot up in bed. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he immediately regretted the sudden motion. Ragnar. The chalice. The pulses. Suddenly a ring of light appeared around him, rushing out on all sides of him. It created a wave of light, giving him a few precious seconds to take in his surroundings. He was in an old section of whatever place the pull had taken him to, maybe a dungeon that had been converted into living quarters?

Nicolas tried to send out another pulse of light. It came and went more quickly than the last one. He tried again and again, each time slowly getting pieces of the puzzle together. A thought occurred to him. The ring of light always came out through his torso, spreading outward in all directions. Instead of pushing it through, he tried to hold the light in place. To his utter astonishment, it had worked.

“Good…” an ominous voice called in his mind. It was deep and gravely, like how a mountain would sound if it could speak. It was an alien thought.

“Who are you?” Nicolas asked out loud. His voice was so harsh it almost didn't sound human. The voice gave no reply. The only door in the room opened, someone drawn to the noise.

A man entered the room. He was dressed in crimson robes with a long hat that almost caught the on the door frame. There was a familiar crest on his robes. A black dragon with a person in one claw and grains of wheat in the other. The Brood.

“Finally, you've awoken,” the man said through red stained lips. Ragnar.

“What did you do to me?” Nicolas asked. He remembered pieces of it, but couldn't put them together. It was as if the memories themselves had been cut and mixed together.

“Me? I did nothing to you child. You chose of your own volition to partake in the drinking of the holy relic. A gift for us mortals by our Great One,” Ragnar said simply.

“And what exactly was this holy relic?” Nicolas asked, frustration in his voice. It reminded him of Master Quin. Always beating around the bush. Always hedging or even just flat out ignoring him. He wanted the power to make them listen. No, he needed it.

Power. That's right. That's what he had been searching for.

“Child, it is a gift for us. From hi-” Ragnar was cut off. The light encircling Nicolas shot outward, passing through Ragnar. Suddenly, Nicolas could feel it. A feeling that he had only felt within himself before, but thanks to his study of astral magic he knew exactly what this was, Ragnar's soul.

“The soul is like water. It takes the shape of whatever vessel it is housed in. The concentration of where the soul mostly resides will tell you your magic affinity. In theory, if the soul takes on a human form, pieces may be torn from the whole…” Nicolas remembered from his studies.

“So you're going to do this too?” He asked, suddenly seething. “You're all the same, thinking only about yourselves, never daning to teach, just barking orders and expecting me to follow. No. Not anymore,” he said, lifting his arm up, palm towards Ragnar.

“Do it. Strike back against those who hold you back. They are afraid of you. They will stop at nothing to keep you from your goal,” the Voice said. It was stoking the flames of violence.

“I'll make them all listen,” he thought. He closed his hand into a tight fist. He could feel it now, Ragnar's soul. It was old and tainted, almost feeling greasy. Nicolas pulled hard, feeling the tension of Ragnar's soul attempting to stay attached to his left arm.

“Do it.”

He pulled harder, his muscles felt shredded, his joints filled with glass. He didn't care.

“Take what's yours.”

Niclas used his other hand now, too. Pulling desperately as Ragnar screamed.

“Make them suffer.”

Nicolas felt part of Ragnar's soul rip. An inhuman screech filled the dank dungeon, echoing off of the stone walls. It was something so horrendous it would stay within the stone walls until the end of time.

Grunting with effort and through clenched teeth, Nicolas grunted out the words.

“You! Will! Listen!”

Just like that the soul residing within Ragnar's left arm was torn away at the shoulder. Nicolas was screaming. Ragnar was screaming. The Voice roared. Something within Nicolas came forth. A carnal hunger for power. He felt the presence greedily devour the segment of soul, savoring it. The pain within his body lessened. He could feel it now. Power flowed through him, an unstoppable wave rushing through his very existence.

Nicolas stood and walked over to the whimpering man who laid on the ground. Nicolas created light again and was surprised. He could move it now from his torso to his left hand. Nicolas could only see part of Ragnar's left hand. It was shriveled and blackened.

“Now I'm going to ask again. What did I drink?”

[m4gp13]

I know I joke about how Ethan would have loved Mitski but some of her songs do fit so well for him, particularly Working For The Knife.

"I always knew the world moves on I just didn't know it would go without me" he wanted to make a change in the world and lived his life under the belief that he would be the one to make a difference, he would bring balance to the unstable order of the universe. He did everything he could to achieve this but he ended up as just a footnote in someone else's story. When he died, he was only remembered by a handful of people and the world carried on hardly any different to how it was when he entered it.

"I used to think I'd be done by twenty Now at twenty-nine, the road ahead appears the same Though, maybe at thirty, I'll see a way to change That I'm living for the knife" Ethan was quite young when he got his mission from Nemesis and, like most children, probably really underestimated how long it would take. The years dragged on and he joined and the army and everything was happening but he still appeared no closer to his goal. But he stayed put and kept his head down and kept working, probably hopeful that by the end of the war it would all be worth it. By the end, he might finally have something to show for all his work and he might finally be able to live for himself because Nemesis will have no further need of him.

"I always thought the choice was mine and I was right but I just chose wrong." His mother asked him to but he still joined the war of his volition. He did it to get respect for the minor deities and their children but near the end of the war he realised achieving that goal on Kronos' side was impossible because Kronos had no plans for that and was just using Ethan and those like him for his own ends. Ethan spent the war backing the wrong horse.

"I start the day lying and end with the truth that I'm dying for the knife" the dawning realisation that his mother's balance will take a lot more than his eye and he's wasting a year working and dying for Kronos, the very thing that will spell his doom and get him killed.

[tenjikyu]

𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 - 𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘬𝘪

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ angst/comfort , male!reader throughout the entire series , reader is 2 years younger then the boys. reader is 20 whilst the brothers are 22 .

PART II • GENSHIN M.LIST

being diluc’s biological younger brother is defiantly a hassle.

a mischievous soul as a dear child he was, and he got you and your dear brother caught up in ALL of it. from terrible haircuts that ended in tears to hiding from crepus after diluc knocked over a wine barrel, life at the ragnvinder household was never peaceful, and i guess i’m a sense, that never changed. you loved your brothers and they loved you.

until they didn’t .

“DILUC!!” you cried out, screaming as you held your beloved fathers late body in your arms, heart aching like it had been ripped from your very being. your head was spinning, vision blurring with the rainy skies as the sounds of pure betrayal fall upon your ears. your brothers were screaming at eachother, but all you could hear was sound.

only the sounds of diluc’s weapon against kaeya could be heard.

“DILUC NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! PLEASE STOP IM BEGGING YOU” your voice was loosing itself.

“HE’S A TRAITOR, HE DOESN’T DESERVE PITY” diluc’s voice peaks, his vocal cords slowly dissolving into his throat, his heart shattering in his chest.

you couldn’t bear to hear it, you wouldn’t believe that your ever so timid and loving brother could ever want to hurt your family. HIS family.

and then, diluc attempts to strike.

and you strike back.

like adrenaline itself shot through your body, you picked yourself and chucked your body over kaeya, protecting him from diluc’s clash.

then, like another blessing from the gods, a blue vision gleams brightly in front of the both of you and creates a force field around you both.

like a familial instinct had overcome him, kaeya’s hands gripped tightly around your waist and brought you into his chest in one last attempt to protect you, gripping his new cryo vision close to the both of you.

the glare in diluc’s eyes broke your heart. to him, you chose kaeya.

the prayers in kaeyas eyes broke your soul. he prayed that diluc could forgive you for this.

the scars on your body broke your two brothers bond. they should have never allowed you to enter their dispute.

the funeral was a difficult one, to say the least. you said not a word to either of them, and neither had made any attempt to speak to you. diluc was livid that you had tried protecting kaeya. kaeya was fearful to talk to you in case it would cause diluc’s seething rage to rise and you didn’t talk to either of them, still in shock of what had just happened.

not talking to you that day was a grave mistake.

you were changing, and it wasn’t for the better.

by your 18th birthday, you barley felt like yourself anymore. your brother diluc was missing in action, your other brother kaeya was almost too busy to check in on you, as well as being too fearful of what diluc would do to you if he found out that you both reconnected whilst he was gone.

you became a lot more reserved since the passing of your family, a constant scowl on your face. the maids and workers around the winery did their very best to aid you, but they became more irritating then helpful in your every day life.

you hated almost everything around you. you missed your old life, your dear brothers and with their absence, a void in your core had formed and was slowly enveloping your body.

you ran away multiple times after diluc had left, each time you were gone for days before being caught by jean herself the majority of the time. (kaeya begged her to help him find you, too much of a coward to face his little brother despite hurt how much you needed him)

the only time you came home by yourself was not entirely of your own volition, but you had been convinced to return to the ever so worried maids.

that man would soon become your dimly light candle in the overwhelming depressive state you just barley survive every day.

the guy was a slim fellow, and appeared to be around the same age as your brothers, just a bit shorter in height. he wore two twin blue braids loosely hung by his rather long hair, his green cape blew with the wind, almost in sync with eachother. he adorned an anemo vision and a soft tune seemed to follow him wherever he went. it was almost like a melody hummed in the wind and trailed behind him as he goes about his day.

he was the only one left in this world you felt as though you could relax yourself around. after all, he was the one there when you gained your electro vision.

you were scared, running away from a lawachurl that you could absolutely not defend yourself from. you had only very basic defense training that kaeya had once taught you and you did not bring a weapon with you before you had run away.

you didn’t have a chance at survival at this rate.

and you were running of of space to run.

your heart was pounding, realising all that was in front of you was a waterfall and only the moonlight and the stars above you were the only things illuminating your way. you had two options : jump into the lake below, or turn around and pray to the archons that the lawachurl would not harm you so badly you might not make it.

i’m a sense, both had occurred.

deciding on the former, you jump.

you’re falling.

and then you’re struck by lightning.

well, not literally. in a way you were. i’m reality, your prayers had seems to reach celestia’s ears and had given you a second chance at life by providing you with a vision to call your own, as well as an archon to aid your way.

lord barbatos himself held you gently in his arms, his pure white wings wrapped around you as you clutched your newfound vision in your hand, the electro still swirling around your figure but is seemingly harmless to the godly being before you.

“are you okay? i saw a beam of light flash from awhiles away and came to see if anything was wrong�� his soothing voice sung into your ears, your eyes gaping at him in pure awe.

he was GLOWING.

THE lord barbatos, the seemingly absent god of mondstadt held you comfortingly in his arms and was soothing your racing adolescent mind.

and so, as any normal 18 year old teenager would after running away from his crippling home life, you burst into tears.

sobbing into the gods chest, barbatos rested onto the ground and held you in his lap, your face nuzzling his neck in a comforting way. this form of comfort has become foreign ever since your brothers had abandoned you and left you to your lonesome, as if pretending that you don’t exist.

you missed your big brothers, and the lord of anemo could sense it. he had been watching you ever since the dispute had broken up your family, and had secretly kept you from harm on all of your previous escape attempts.

but just because barbatos had come forth to you now, does not mean that everything will magically solve itself. after all,

your brothers hurt you just as much as they had hurt eachother, and their negligence on it would cause a strain of hatred and betrayal to flow through your veins and into your head. not only had you been betrayed by kaeya, diluc had essentially abandoned you with neither of them updating you on how they’re doing. your mind could not properly process what had happened to you and therefore you ended up reacting to all your issues with immense anger and sadness, having it boil and overflow into your body.

if they truly cared so little about you, why should you give them any mind? they never bothered beforehand, so even if they come crawling back to you for forgiveness, should you really give it to them?

[capricious-and-caprine]

23 April, fatuousness

I forget what I have to look forward to. These days are dismal, depressing, and dilatory. This is the calm before the storm. The anticipation is like a vacuum sucking away the warm moist air.

I will be entering the workforce. My biggest concern is not the inevitably rude customers or annoying co-workers who wish to engage in small talk. How good of an employee can I be with my history of truancy? Money is not a compelling incentive to me: I have incurred the cost of a repeated year. Though this is of my own volition, this does not simplify things for me. If I wanted attention, I would tell you my real name. I would not redact personal details that reveal who I am. I no longer self-mutilate because I cannot trust myself to hide it well enough.

The other day, the 22nd, I WAS VERY CLOSE. I stockpiled the pills weeks before! My (half-arsed) will was written. I will no longer censor myself to assuage others' disquietude. I WILL FUCKING CALL 111 instead. They can find out I am in hospital later.

'Talk to us'. They do not want you to talk to them unless you progress positively because you're 'making it too hard to help you.' You cannot regress in front of a community. I am tired of the allegations that I do this when I do not get my way, like a child throwing a tantrum in a supermarket.

I am tired of people telling me to get over things because they happened a long time ago - benign intentions are just that: benign intentions. They do not negate the way I change my behaviour.

The onus is on me because I chose to hold onto the anger. Another classic case of 'the axe forgets, but the tree remembers.' I think it's a method of absolving one's behaviour.

When I'm asked, 'What was the trigger?' I list possible factors that could contribute. But like in science, they are contributions - not the sole reason because nature does not work that way. These reasons are often trivial, like an argument with my friends, or the stress of university. I will tell the more comprehensive truth today: it's because I wanted to. Yes, it is impulsivity. Each of the reasons accelerates my impulse, but in the end, they are snap-shot decisions. THAT IS WHY I PREPARE! So I have the tools to do it when I please! When people want to leave me there is nothing left! Therefore I will go! Life is rendered futile!

I no longer care if things are said behind my back as long as I can hear them. I can then decide if there is merit to anything said. I no longer care if people cancel on me: I'm unreliable too. I no longer care for people infantilising me to emphasise points to me like I'm a child. I no longer care for people ranting that 'you should have said it sooner': I only care if it is said eventually. When other people care about these things, it confuses me.

[honorhearted]

"Not always..."

The defeat in her voice crushed him beneath the weight of her sorrow, and clinging more tightly to her smaller frame, Benjamin chose to merely listen while she spoke. There was a raw kernel of truth to her words -- she was right that some were forever scarred or mangled, and could never fully recover from their wounds. But Emma...did she truly believe herself so far beyond repair? Emma, the camp's one true beacon that shone as brightly as both the sun and moon?

"You're right," he finally allowed, his voice hoarse. "I should know better, given how my own men are walking, breathing testaments to such pain and sacrifice... We may boldly enter these horrors of our own volition, but that doesn't mean we always return completely whole. But with the proper love and support..." Trailing off, he tamped his lips shut, not wanting to flat-out confess he knew that she was the one of which she spoke.

Emma lifted her head and mercifully, he saw the first break of dawn amidst the clouds in her gaze, alerting him to the fact she was all right -- she was safe -- and then her arms were around him, holding tight and fiercely as she whispered her thanks. Closing his eyes, Benjamin fondly nudged his cheek into her hair. He couldn't speak, for fear of shattering her delicate resolve, so instead he merely held her, content with their closeness and relishing in the realization that she trusted him. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve such an honor, but some way, somehow, she did. And he treasured that more than he cared to admit.

After a moment, Emma slowly lowered to her proper height and wiped at her eyes, attempting to disguise any prior emotion. "Hey... in a slight change of topic... Still speaking of past experiences... Doesn't it... bother you that I have them?"

Benjamin blinked at her, genuinely baffled. "Why would it bother me?" he pressed. "That's the thing about experiences...we all have them."

Wincing, she clarified, "You know I'm... you know. But you seemed to be comfortable asking me about that sort of thing, and... I've come to learn that while men in my kingdom aren't exactly thrilled by... experienced women, men here and in some other countries are generally against it."

The gravity of her allusion finally dawned on him, and for once finding it in himself not to blush, Benjamin offered a soft smile and a shake of the head. "No," he replied, surprised by the conviction of his own sincerity. "If I'd been bothered, I never would've lain with you in the first place. Do I wish that we'd both been untouched, and thus, had nothing to compare it to?" He shrugged, sheepish while he nodded. "Of course. But it doesn't bother me that you've loved, because to love is the greatest gift God allows. Each love is a blessing, and not lesser than just because it hasn't been sanctified by marriage." With a weak, flustered laugh, he added, "My father would kill me for saying that, but I don't know... Out here, surrounded by war and death and loss, I've realized you need to love where you can -- when you can. And I don't regret giving myself to you. Not even for a moment."

Reaching for her hands, Benjamin gave them a fond squeeze. "So yes, Emma. We're more than 'good.' The only thing I'm truly bothered by is your assumption that I wouldn't be."

"Brewster won't ever push..."

Oh, that sweetheart. In that moment, it killed her that she couldn't find the will to speak up, that she couldn't open up. But the pain behind that locked door was far too much, opening it would just lead to the whole wall coming down. And yet. He was going along with it, letting her choose what to say, how to say it, and there was something unbelievably protective in his willingness to let her lead.

She let out a small sigh when he decided to give her a kiss instead, holding her to him. Why couldn't she just be normal again? Why couldn't she be like any other woman who, yes, may have had a heartbreak or two in their past, but could speak of it and didn't need such hand-holding? Why couldn't she give him that? "Not always..." she murmured, her voice smaller, "Sometimes there is no healing. Sometimes you lose an arm... or a leg in battle, and you just... go on with a limp. But..." But he had just allowed her to lean against him, so she could limp her way out of it, and she didn't know how to express the overwhelmed gratitude. She tilted her head up to look at him in the eyes, opening and closing her mouth when words didn't come, and instead let herself soften into a smile, her hand letting go of his wrist to brush his already perfect hair back.

"Thank you," she whispered, finally relaxing and realizing just how rigid she had been until then; it felt as if she had run around camp a few times and was shaking after the effort, but without a second thought she stepped forward and simply buried her face against his shoulders, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Just thank you."

She knew she couldn't, but still wished she could have spent the rest of the day in his arms, whether talking or in silence it didn't matter, and that in itself was a nice kind of strange. Even the voice that wanted to beg him not to hurt her was almost quiet, while always there. "Hey... in a slight change of topic..." Emma said after a little, forcing herself to let him go and quickly wiping one eye after the other, but otherwise ignoring the fact that she had been so close to tears. Time to try to move past it. "Still speaking of past experiences... Doesn't it... bother you that I have them? You know I'm... you know. But you seemed to be comfortable asking me about that sort of thing, and... I've come to learn that while men in my kingdom aren't exactly thrilled by... experienced women, men here and in some other countries are generally against it. Well, I guess I'm too old to not have any by now, but still, do you not mind speaking of it? Are we... good?" That felt strange too, when asked to Ben - are we good. That little word to speak of them as if they were a unit, like her parents did. Felt right, though, and was one way to not entirely shut him out while not getting trapped into the previous topic. Because, surprisingly, she did not feel like shutting him out yet.

[romantic-reveries]

I hate this I hate this I hate this. I’m sitting in the bathroom at work trying not to cry because I feel so dumb for not being about to remember everything even though I’m fully aware that this is a shit ton to remember, but I feel so useless just SITTING there. The guy who’s training me is the busiest of like, everyone here, and I don’t want to keep interrupting him. And I keep missing things in my notes that are small details, but they matter.

It’s like, along with the big things to learn (like closing out transactions etc.), I have to also remember the minutiae of like, you have to hit enter in this program for it to work, and tab in this one, whatever.

And then on top of it, I finally had a conversation with Ben last night about what I think happened with us and if he still had any feelings and he still was as ambiguous as ever. He “thinks there will always be feelings” but doesn’t know that it’s something that should be pursued, but he “doesn’t want me to feel like he’s stringing me along”. I said “by… talking to me?” Because we have been talking, more and more normally. And he said “I thought you were speaking romantically, like dating” and I said I was, but I don’t know how he’d string me along if that’s not on the table, and he said “if we talked like and as often as we did before” which I said nothing about. I was like “I don’t imagine we would be if you don’t have feelings for me.”

It feels like he was pretending at feelings. It’s honestly sociopathic the way people can just shut off like that. Nick cutting me off recently because he “had” to, like he’s fine never speaking to me again, simply because he’s “going through something” or whatever the fuck. And Ben tried to explain that he wasn’t cutting me off before, he just doesn’t usually talk to people as much as he did me. Okay. Mmhm. So… you chose to initiate contact with me every single day for two months straight, of your own volition, and then stop talking to me as soon as I spiraled and was like “what are we doing?” Like. Yeah, that was the issue. I assumed that was why you talked to me less, but the ultimate takeaway there is you wanted to talk to me all the time and then you didn’t.

So anyway, he insinuated he’d be open to us talking every single day and flirting and whatever again—which, he’s already been flirting with me again, anyway. I don’t know. Honestly, I didn’t realize how big of a turn off that would be. He’s 33 years old and still has no idea what he wants and he’s willing to lose out on someone great because I live a whole two hours away. I’ve now had feelings for him longer—despite not even talking the whole time—than the length of any relationship he’s had. He mentioned once about how he sometimes hated feeling like, as the man, so much of initiation was left up to him, and yet every serious conversation, and nearly every confession of feelings has been me. Me being blatant about my feelings for him. It’s honestly so dull that men are like that so often. They say that want that and then it’s like “oh, not you, though.”

I’m a fucking catch. And I think it’s taken me a long time to see that, because of my issues, but I am. I’m kind, and I communicate, and I’m very growth-minded, and I’m continually told that I treat people better than anyone else around them. I’m loyal and genuine and a good listener. I’m ambitious and I can be outgoing and I love people and I’m engaging and I’m pretty, damn it. I can cook and I play guitar and I love to dance and be silly and I read and I love so passionately and fiercely and once you have my loyalty, you’ll have it forever. I’m the dream woman, honestly, just to be discarded or unchosen over and over and fucking over again.

Fuck that. I deserve so much better.

[crossroadwellness123]

What to Expect When Entering a Drug and Alcohol Treatment Centre

Written By - Drug rehabilitation centre in pune

Many people who struggle with addiction to drugs or alcohol may be nervous about entering a treatment centre, but it is important to have realistic expectations. Your first impression may not be the most important factor in what kind of environment you will thrive in. Drug and alcohol treatment centres are not perfect environments. They also are not places where people go solely because they are obligated to do so; they are instead places where people seek help on their own volition. That being said, there are some things that you can expect when entering a drug and alcohol treatment centre. Keep reading for more information about what to expect when entering a drug and alcohol treatment centre, as well as some suggestions for how you can make the experience more positive Drug rehabilitation centre in pune.

What to expect when entering a drug and alcohol treatment centre

When people enter a drug and alcohol treatment centre, they are likely nervous about what aspects of the environment they will enjoy and what aspects they will dislike. The first thing that you need to keep in mind is that the people who work in these centres are there because they want to help. They are not trying to sell their own program or push you towards other services. Their job is to help you get through recovery as well as they can, and they want to help as many people as they can succeed. If you are entering a drug and alcohol treatment centre, you are likely there because you want to get better. But you may also be nervous because recovery can be a scary prospect. You may be worried that you will be unable to cope with life without drugs or alcohol. You may also have been told that recovery is impossible for you, or you may have been told that it is not necessary. All of these things can make recovery seem like a frightening prospect, and you may be nervous about entering a drug and alcohol treatment centre. The nice thing about these places is that you are there for yourself. The staff members are not there to judge you, or tell you what you “should” be doing or “shouldn’t” be doing. They are there to help you get better. That being said, some of them may not be as invested in your recovery as they should be. This is something that you need to be aware of, but it is something that you can control.

Staff you encounter will be there to help you succeed

When you are in a drug and alcohol treatment centre, you will be surrounded by people who want nothing more than for you to succeed. This is part of why they chose to go into this field of work; they want to help as many people as they can and they want to see people succeed. You will be in a room with other people who are going through the same thing as you, and so you will have a lot of support if you need it. If you are at a place where people do not seem to care about your success, you may be in an unhealthy environment. The staff members at a drug and alcohol treatment centre are usually chosen for a reason. They have chosen the path of helping people recover from substance use disorders, so they are usually eager to help you succeed.

Some staff members may not be as invested in your recovery as they should be

It is important to remember that not every staff member in a drug and alcohol treatment centre will be there solely to help you succeed. Some people will work in treatment centres for financial reasons or because they want to help people, but they are not actually very good at helping people. If you encounter staff members who do not seem to care very much about your recovery, take this into consideration when deciding whether or not this is the right place for you. Some drug and alcohol treatment centres do have a certain percentage of staff members who are there for other reasons. If you encounter these people, you may want to consider looking elsewhere.

Expectations of the program and environment will vary depending on the facility

Drug and alcohol treatment centres vary in terms of what the expectations are for the program and the environment. Some centres are more lenient and do not enforce a strict schedule as much as others do. Some centres, like residential treatment facilities, are all-encompassing and may try to change your life in every aspect of your life. Other centres, such as outpatient treatment, are more hands-off and are focused on helping you with your addiction. It is important to remember that you are unique and you are more than just your addiction. You are a person who has made some mistakes in her life, and this place is here to help you get better. You are worth more than just what is happening with your addiction.

Keep in mind that you are more than just your addiction

People who struggle with addiction are more than just their addiction. You are a person who made some bad decisions and is trying to fix those mistakes. You are worth more than just your addiction, and you do not have to be there to make it better. Some of the staff members may not understand this concept, but there are others who will be willing to work with you. If you are in a treatment centre where the staff members seem to think that you are just there to get better from your addiction, let them know that you are more than just that. You are worth more than just your addiction, and you do not have to be there to make it better.

Don't forget to have fun while you're there!

One of the biggest things that people tend to forget while they are in a drug and alcohol treatment centre is that they deserve to have fun. When you are in a place where you are expected to make drastic changes to your life and you are often stressed out and feeling overwhelmed, it can be easy to forget that you deserve to have fun. That being said, it is important to make sure that you do not forget that you deserve to have fun while you are in a drug and alcohol treatment centre. When you are in a drug and alcohol treatment centre, you are not supposed to be having as much fun as you would be if you were not in a drug and alcohol treatment centre. That being said, it does not mean that you should not enjoy yourself there. Many people in a drug and alcohol treatment centre do not seem to know when to enjoy themselves and when to be serious. If this is something that you are struggling with, let the staff members know.

Wrapping up

When you first walk into a drug and alcohol treatment centre, you may be nervous about what to expect and what kind of environment you will thrive in. Keep in mind that you are more than just your addiction, and you deserve to have fun while in a drug and alcohol treatment centre. Drugs and alcohol are a part of your life, and they may never go away completely; they will always be a part of you. However, they do not have to control your life. When you are in a drug and alcohol treatment centre, you will be surrounded by people who want nothing more than for you to succeed. If you encounter staff members who do not seem to care very much about your success, take this into consideration when deciding whether or not this is the right place for you. Expectations of the program and environment will vary depending on the facility.

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