#i mean i never did it myself but other people sure did!

[twistedastrology]

- The most painful Chiron placements -

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

in my opinion-

to preface, all chiron placements are inherently painful, but these to me are the ones i have the most respect for in a way??

everyone knows chiron as the wounded healer, it represents our soul level wound that, once healed, is our greatest superpower.

so here are a handful of the chiron placements that to me are the most intense.

- Chiron in Aries/1st -

chiron in aries is absolutely terrifying to me and i have the utmost respect for people with this placement because this is a core wound of the self.

they go through life forever trying to find who they are and feeling like the world holds no space for them- ive said like a billion times that my biggest fear is losing myself, and that's the wound that chiron in aries has to deal with.

they might struggle with finding what they're willed to do and might feel like a mosaic of everything else around them instead of a real person and that is so scary to me.

once they manage to heal that wound though, they are fucking unstoppable and inspire others to find themselves just as they did.

- Chiron in Sagittarius -

this one is intense to me because it often has a lot of potential to remain unhealed- this is a wound that relates to spirituality entirely-

i dont know many ppl with this placement at all but i imagine they're scared or intimidated by spirituality as a whole to some degree-

these people don't know what the purpose of life is, they don't know what they believe in or If they believe in anything- the subject of belief and purpose in life is very sore for them.

when healed, this chiron placement bestows an intense sense of belonging and meaning in life, and it has a lot of potential to remain unhealed because spirituality at the very least helps you to find a true meaning in life, without adhering to a strict religion that makes one up.

- Chiron in Aquarius/11th -

im a little biased for this one because i have this placement but i can 100% speak from experience because of that.

this placement is easily the most agonizing one in my entire chart- for the longest time i felt like i would never find true friends, and sometimes that feeling will creep up again and it makes me absolutely crumble.

chiron in aries and chiron in aquarius are very similar to some extent because they both feel like the world won't give them somewhere to feel at home, just for different reasons.

chiron in aquarius makes you feel like you will never have anyone who truly understands you and that even if you do, they won't stick around like you want them to.

for some people, this can make them try to conform to somewhere they don't belong. thankfully i don't have that aspect, but it has crossed my mind multiple times in life.

this placement, when it's triggered by something, makes me immediately consider every possibility upon meeting someone new and forces me to give up my hopes until im proven otherwise.

im pretty sure it's the reason i have an avoidant attachment style as well as trust issues 😮‍💨

when healed though, these people have the ability to bring people together without snuffing anyone's individuality. they always respect people for who they are and the friends they do manage to find respect them for who they are.

much shorter post this time but ive been super tired all day and ofc had a chiron trigger so ive been a little cranky to say the least- but i wanted to write something for some reason so i figured what better than what i struggled with today 😮‍💨

if you have any of these chiron placements or just generally know your chiron fucking hurts really bad when it's triggered, i get it- but it won't be like that forever. the more we manage to heal, the more that wound is transformed into the most stable part of our charts.

if in general you're not doing well rn, again, i get it, but it will never be like that forever. that's not how life works. you won't be happy forever either, but if you were, there would be no value to it.

like the song i named this blog after says, "a lonely life where no one understands you, but don't give up because the music do"

- 🖤 -

[marivoid]

Entry 32

Day 227

The worst way to earn a good reputation in a city has to be, by far, grabbing somebody's prosthetic and harming them.

That being said, GUESS WHO TICKED OFF A GUARD OF COMPARATOR CITY.

Yep. I had done the absolute impossible and somehow managed to mistake a prosthetic for a loose piece of rubble or scrap. Whoop de fucking do.

I promise I can explain! When I left Mumbo's place and got into the city, I was met with this huge wall! And I'm talking at least 10 meters? If not more! And there was a ladder and what I thought was maybe a really big kite tail dangling down-

One thing led to another and... Well. I learned very quickly that some kite tails can, in fact, talk. And they can feel pain!

Specifically if a kite tail is attached to a very pissed off Guard's spine.

Yeah... I fucked up. Big time.

But thankfully the guard didn't stay mad at me too long! Just... Dangled me over the open air while making sure I remembered to never grab his prosthetic again! Yep! That seems absolutely fair.

When I had eventually gotten on solid ground (ish? Does a wall count as ground?) I managed to properly introduce myself to the man. (With about one million apologies for grabbing said prosthetic.)

"You have one hell of an odd way of greeting people." The Guard had chastised as he returned to his duty of observing the ground below us (One heck of an experience!) "Didn't your parents ever teach you to not grab things you have no clue about?"

"Well- Where I'm from not many people have... Prosthetics like yours. It's one of the more unique ones- And the ones on your ears! I've seen glowing ears, but finned ones..."

"Scare tactic. Makes a loud buzzing noise if you vibrate them fast enough. Acts like a Roach's wings." He had told me off handedly.

"Roach? You mean the bug?" I'll be the first to admit, I laughed at that time! I found it hilarious that somebody would want to always hear a cockroach's wings flying against your ear. But boy did that guard have me singing a different tune.

"No. I mean the super human Stragglers that can kill you and me in the blink of an eye. The noise can be amplified to chase away any normal Stragglers or Stalkers. Keeps the city safe."

The way he said it earlier... I can still feel my hands shaking a bit at the idea alone. Sure there are plenty of things that can kill somebody, but in an instant? And to have the sounds of them be enough to deter other enemies... I hopefully won't get a visual of what these "Roaches" look like. I think I'd like to keep this journal free of anything that horrid.

"Well... I'm... Kinda looking for a way inside this city. I need to meet with the Demon? He's apparently somebody that can help me."

"The Demon? He's long gone, bud."

"Well there went that hope."

"But."

"... But?"

"The Angel." He had told me. "The Angel is still in town. Should be near the Broadcasting Station. Probably bugging the Radio Master. He always knows where the Demon is."

And from there he sent out a couple messages for me, asked a few other guards (They're called Wall Warriors. Bit on the nose but I can see where the name comes from.) and sent me on my way. Before I left, I managed to ask him for his name.

"And why should I tell you?"

"For... Future reference...?"

"... Alright, I'll bite. xB. Lowercase X, uppercase B."

"I have a feeling I won't know why it's like that?"

"I don't tell that information to tail grabbers."

"... Fair enough I suppose."

I did manage to snag his blip number from another guard. Sent him a message a few minutes ago, actually. And he responded! He's warming up to me! Success.

That's all I got for today. I have a new prerogative. Find the Angel and whatever the Broadcasting Station is. (Does the broadcasting station actually WORK?? Could I have music to keep me sane?)

Questions to figure out tomorrow.

-MLW

-G.U.I.D.E. 67

[canthelpit0]

American

Pairing: matt x poc!reader

Wordcount: 2.2K +

Summary: reader is a third culture kid. Her parents are immigrants, and she hates it. She wants to be everything she is not.

Warnings: angst, crying, hating your own culture, racism, internalized racism, middle eastern!reader, reader discerned as average, established relationship, pet names, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, no oc; reader described to have curly hair, brown eyes and hair.

(A/N: not me reflecting lmao. asks and req are open <3 feedback is appreciated!)

I hate my culture. I hate my frizzy hair, I hate the fact that my eyes are a plain brown. I hate the fact that I’m not white. I hate that when someone asks me where I’m from and I say America, they go “no where are you actually from?”. I hate my brain. I hate the way I think. I hate the way I wish I was someone else. I hate myself, and I hate the way I hate myself.

I was never considerably pretty. Well not really. Sure the facial harmony, the potential is there. But I’m just not good enough.

I wish my hair was straight.

I hate the way I hate my own culture. I really do. But I literally can’t fit into the American beauty Standards , but I can’t fit into the middle eastern ones either.

My home country is America. I was born and raised here. But both of my parents are immigrants from turkey. -Wich means we’re not very wealthy.

I hate it when people ask me where I’m from because I look ‘exotic’.

I wouldn’t consider turkey my home country. I hate it there. And I don’t know if it’s just my internalized hatred or whatever, but I do.

Even in the country itself I’m not considered Turkish enough. In the US I’m not American enough…

I’m never enough.

Not to my parents, not to my siblings, not to my boyfriend. Not to myself. I’m not good enough.

we go to turkey for vacation every year and I’m sick of it.

I speak the language enough to communicate. I hate half the food because I’m a picky eater. It hurts even more because I’m not even considered properly Turkish.

I hate the way all my cousins, except for one, live In turkey. I hate the way they’re so close to each other. And despite being in the cousins group chat, they’ll always send in pictures of them all together. Pictures that I’ll never be in, simply because I’m halfway across the world.

Years ago, whenever we visited, it didn’t matter, the fact that I live so far away, but now they were judgy.

Besides I don’t trust anything there. Sure the stuff there is cheaper, but you could literally put me in an official Nike store and I would still tell you the shoes are fake, even tho they obviously aren’t.

I did an internship at a disposition and shipping company. I know that those shoes come from the same warehouse. I just don’t trust anything Turkish.

Growing up with so many myths that my parents taught me to live by, until I realized it’s just a bunch of bullshit, made me believe that nothing purchased in turkey is of any quality.

And it’s not even to hate on the nation or anything, it’s probably my own fault.

I hate the way all the other middle easternerns are so confident in where they’re from, flexing the fact that they naturally know more languages than Americans.

But I just wish I was one of those stupid Americans. Oblivious to the rest of the world and all the flaws in human nature. I wish I was a skinny white woman born into an upper middle class American family.

But instead I have to be what I am.

I hate it when I hear people talk in my ‘native’ language. Even tho that’s the only language we speak at home.

Sometimes I feel great knowing that I have culture and just naturally great genetics, and potential and resources to be better than those stuck in a village in my ‘home’ town.

But then it dawns on me that I’m not American, even if I was born and raised here it’s not my home country. And as much as I feel like it should be and is, it’s not.

It dawns on me that I’m not white. I’m not one of them. And I never will be.

And that makes me question why Matt is even dating me.

There is so much internal self hatred and racism going on in me, yet still he chose me over those white girls.

And I don’t get it.

Every time I look at myself in the mirror I sigh. Let’s ignore the fact that I’m not white like that and will never be. Even being middle eastern, or whatever the hell turks are considered, I don’t look like that either.

I fit literally nowhere. Sure I have dark brown hair and brown eyes, I look pretty average. But I still don’t look Turkish, I don’t have that straight hair or painfully skinny body.

I let out a heavy sigh without even noticing. These thoughts were getting loud again.

I hate how strict and conservative my parents are. I hate the painful lack of empathy they show, because I always have to be perfect, when I’m oh so confused of what type of perfect.

I don’t know if they want me to be a cheerleader and prom queen and top of my class like they never could. Or if they want me to be conservative or something.

Probably the latter, but-

“What are you thinking about?” Matt’s voice suddenly snaps me out of my daze. We literally had laid down to sleep and all I could do is pity myself.

I feel a lump in my throat and only now realize how i feel like I’m going to break into sobs.

Matt must’ve heard my uneven, shaky breaths.

Matt was spooning me, his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close to him. He rubs my sides gently, tracing shapes on my skin.

I sigh in response. I feel like I haven’t used my voice in so long. I feel like if I speak now, I’ll break into sobs.

“Baby?” He whispers softly. I feel him pull away slightly until he turns me around to face him.

“Talk to me sweetheart.”

Matt is such a kind soul. I literally didn’t tell my parents we were dating until we were already dating for 7 months, just because I was that scared. I wasn’t allowed to date or do anything intimate. As if it wasn’t normal for a teenager to want to.

“Why do you like me Matt?” I blurt out before I can think.

“First off, I don’t like you, I love you. And second where is this coming from?” He asks sweetly his eyes having a tinge of concern to them. He looks so sweet and caring.

“Why tho?” I inquire. My voice low. I know my eyes are glassy, I’m quite literally holding back tears.

Matt licks his lips and sits up. He turns the bedside table lamp on. The dim yellow light aluminates the room slightly, just enough so that I can see his prominent features even better.

“What do you mean?” He asks again now sitting up fully. He has his legs Chris-cross, looking down at me while I still lay on my side.

I sigh trying to gather my thoughts. I purse my lips lying back on my back. I stare at the ceiling for a moment.

“Why do you love me?” I purse my lips. I blink furiously trying to hold back tears.

The way he looks at me is sweet and caring. I sit up just like him. Both of us now sitting across each other, Chris-cross.

Matt and I have been together for a long while, so he knows me. But I never openly talked about it.

“I love you because you’re kind, and caring. I love you because you could talk for hours about things you are passionate about. I love your voice, I love your face, I love the way you’re so delicate with everything. I love the way you touch me. I love you because even when we were just friends you were so kind to me and everyone around. I love you because you’re you.”

By the end of his rant I was crying. Tears streaming down my face while i try to hold in gut wrenching sobs.

Matt’s eyes soften even further. He shifts again so his back is against the head-bored. He grabs me gently and sets me down on his lap facing him.

I cry. Feeling vulnerable I burry my face in the side of his neck. I try not to sob too loud, but I can’t hold it in. With my sobs my body shakes as I try to breathe through it.

“Shh you’re okay baby.” He comforts, gently rubbing circles into my back.

I let out shaky breaths and sobs as I try to calm down. I feel like I’m overreacting. Sure I feel shitty about myself, but then again I can’t do anything to change who I am, so what’s the point in crying about it.

I don’t know for how long I cry, I just know that after a while I couldn’t anymore. I cried so much I ran out of tears.

“You want to talk about it?” Matt asks softly under his breath.

I let out a shaky sigh and shift slightly. I look him in the eyes for a second before letting my head fall forward closing my eyes. I know my eyes are probably red and puffy.

“I just..” I trail off, thinking of a way to describe this to Matt.

“I hate being an immigrant’s daughter..” I say slowly trying to figure out a way to understandably say this without sounding crazy or overly sensitive.

I feel Matt’s hand ghost over my cheek caressing my face gently. He picks up my head slowly so I’m looking at him. My eyes meet his as I try not to cry anymore.

“Talk to me, honey.” He says oh so sweetly.

“I just wish I was American.” I sob. Without even realizing tears were rolling down my face again.

Matt doesn’t say anything waiting for me to continue. He wipes away my tears gently, his eyes full of concern.

“I hate myself and everything I stand for.” I breathe out under my breath as if I’m terrified by that fact. And I am. I hate that I hate myself.

“Baby..” Matt whispers softly. He looks at me like I am everything. He looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters and me saying that I hate myself tears him apart.

“I don’t have a culture. I mean I do, but I’m a third culture kid, I’m not enough for either culture.” I sob. I can physically feel my bottom lip trembling.

“Baby, I love you for you.” Matt says again softly. He wipes away my tears.

“But I hate myself Matt. I hate the fact that I exist.” I breathe out. I close my eyes tightly, because after all, I could barely see anything through my tears anyway.

Matt, being the empath he is, was on the verge of crying too.

No American ever pronounces my name right, but the actual right way just sounds wrong at this point.

I will never find my name on those keychains. And while today, I don’t care about it, back when I was younger and everyone had those, I just couldn’t find one.

“Don’t say that” Matt breaths out. He was still actively wiping away my tears while trying not to cry himself.

“You don’t get it Matt. I’m the problem.” I breathe out harshly. “I feel like I always act like such a brat about it. But my parents had dreams too.” I breathe out.

I see a tear roll down Matt’s cheek and it feels like a slap across my face. I feel my stomach drop. I hurriedly put my hands on his face wiping away the tear while crying myself. Matt’s hands go to my waist holding me.

“Don’t say that.” He breathes out. “You’re allowed to feel things.”

Another wave of sadness washes over me. But before I can break out into sobs again he pulls me into him.

Matt cradles my head into his chest hugging me tightly. I feel safe in his arms. I know Matt loves me for me, but sometimes it still felt like a cruel joke.

Like when I was asked out in middle school as a joke. But we’ve been dating for almost a year now.

“I love your hair, I love your eyes, I love your face, I love your culture, I love your humor. I love you.” Matt assures me. He rubs my scalp gently as I continues to let out small sobs that shake my body.

“I love everything about you. I love you the way you are, and you know that.” He uses his other hand to rub my back comfortingly.

I continue to cry in his arms listening to the sweet nothings and the praises Matt whispers to me.

It hurts knowing I hurt him. And I really want to believe him, and I do. But I don’t agree.

After a while of crying I calm down again.

This is a topic I’ll never be able to talk about without crying. It’s a deep rooted pain.

Being how I am, I hate it.

After a while we move back to a laying down position. “We’ll talk about this later.” Matt assures firmly yet he was still looking at me kindly.

I simply nod. Matt turns the bedside lamp off. He pulls me closer to him. He cradles my head to his chest and I hug him back. I cling to him like my life depends on it.

I know it’s not going to be easy, but it’s exhausting to hate myself this much. I wish I didn’t. I really do.

Masterlist

A/N: All of us third culture kids have probably at some point have experienced some type of internalized racism. I wrote this in a fit of sadness after realising that my dreams are just dreams. I cried so many times while writing this. I hope you guys liked it 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo

[mira-s-bookclub]

Beneath a Veil of Shadows Part 2

Azriel x Reader

Note: I know one whole week is a lot of time to wait, but have in mind that I am exceptional at over working myself and getting the fattest writing block in history :(. So it is to regulate myself.

Warnings: Mature language, fighting, injury and blood, captivity, mention of torture?

Word Count: 1,9k

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

I wake in a cell; seemingly underground should the smell give any indicator. My head is pulsating with hurt and when I try to stand up, my vision whites out. “I swear to the Mother...!” I breathe out.

A figure comes forth from the darkness across from me. Hoping he comes close enough for me to- I jump forwards. Yanked back by the chains biting into my wrists, I whimper. They had locked me up.

A dark voice chuckles from across me and I look up again. The male had wings and I could bet my soul it was the man I went up against. The man, who disappeared without anything else, would be marked for an earlier death than he thought, either by me or Azriel.

“They are soldiers.”

“What?” I jerk at the voice in the dark cell, my voice breathy. “Azriel did you know this would happen? Is this some means to get inside intel?” The last part came out harsher than I intended, at once regretting ever asking. I did not think he would set me up. Himself? Probably, if Rhysand did not interfere.

“Stop it.” He hisses at me. I cannot see him, but I feel his eyes on me, nonetheless. “I had heard talk of loyalties being changed in Hewn City, people getting ready for a new, great power rising to take the throne.” I hear Azriel at ground level, most likely sitting against the wall, a soft rattling in his chains. “I did not intent for us to approach either problem, but I should have informed you, however.” His voice sounds resigned, apologetic, even. Though he is faulty of nothing. “I would never have asked Rhysand to take you if I knew, know that.”

My heart misses a beat. “You were the reason I was sent here? You asked for me?”

“I missed you.” His voice was almost too soft to hear. “Even before,” he pauses, “our falling-out. I missed something I had not even experienced with you, a closeness that never would be enough. It did not help when I create space between us, but it was easier to pretend the further away from you I was.”

“Azriel- “

“I never would have taken you, Y/n. Never. Not if I had known.” His breathing is uneven, and I can hear him ruffling his wings.

“I do not blame you, Azriel. There was no way you could have known, even if you had informed me, I would not have done anything differently.”

He snorts. “You always stick to a plan, no matter the consequences.”

“I thought that was a desired skill?”

“Not for you.” My own breathing almost faltered. “Abort the mission, Y/n, if you see the result ending up captive or dead.”

I did not know what to say to that. I did not have it in me to leave others behind. If it were not the Inner Circle fighting, then it was someone who chose to fight with me, and I could not disappoint. But if it were the Inner Circle, if it were Azriel, there would be nothing on my mind except the knowing that they must, at all costs, come out of it alive.

I shift, my chains clinking at the movement. If I think of the chains for too long; I was sure panic would cloud my judgment, making me reckless and rash.

Leaning back against the wall, I contemplate our situation. A routine check, Azriel had said, turned traitors and wars. Stuck behind enemy lines, I did not know whether to cry or laugh. I chose the latter.

“I did not know captivity could spark such a light in you, Y/n.” Azriel’s dark voice sent a shiver down my back. Sliding down the wall to the ground, I sniff. Not noticing my tears until they had made their way down my cheeks.

“I have plans with Feyre tonight.”

Azriel was quiet for a time. “I think you might have to reschedule.”

Neither of us spoke for a while after that, the seriousness of the situation weighing down on us. Azriel had estimated for this mission to take a couple of days, and it was uncertain how much time Rhysand was willing to give before tapping into resources to find us. Azriel did not enlighten me to his thoughts, but I knew what clouded my own mind; it would take days before someone would come.

The last hours had been calm and quiet, safe for the irritating drops of water falling from the ceiling. The small space was humid and dark.

At times when panic seemed to seep through my bones, I closed my eyes and wished back to the past. I have memorized the way the sun used to hit my face, how the sand felt between my toes. I am smart enough to know that the brain remembers only the selected few, happy, memories. But Mother was it happy. Thinking back, I could remember snippets of a ship route where my sleeping quarters did not look too far from this.

Right after leaving Cretea, the emissary had told me the cost of taking care of two people would result in far treacherous travels, he had been right. I might have never stepped foot on a ship before, but I sure as hell would not have been ready for that travel, even if I had. We had spent days loading cargo, sleeping in small cots, I had never really dried up during those days. But as I think back to a different time, I wonder if I would have traded places with a younger me.

I look towards Azriel, who is standing again. From the sounds of it he had looked around the cell, probably for anything of use in this situation.

“Azriel?” My voice pierces the silence, and I internally wince.

“Mhm.”

I take a deep breath. “You are more strategically inclined than me, anything on the situation?”

“Do not talk your skills down.” His voice is near, and I hear him sit by me again. I wait for a genuine answer from him, not advice I surely will not take.

“Our last council, not with Prythian, but only The Night Court, was about the ongoing threat of war. Our world is on the verge of destruction, a problem bigger than Rhysand and Amren have thought, even bigger than Elain have foreseen from her position as The Day Courts Seer.” Azriel seems to take a breath, letting the thought sink that they must go to war again, so close to the last. Resources and relocation of people would bring a whole other crisis. “This... situation only confirms my speculations that they are rearming, and that fast.

My confusion swirls again. “Who?”

Heavy steps outside our cell silence us. I can feel my heart quicken and sweat begin to form on my forehead.

“Do not say a thing,” he whispers.

I nod but feel stupid when I remember Azriel cannot see me. My chains feel cold as I caress them, trying to find out if they will unclasp with force, I find nothing.

The door opens, revealing the same male I stood up against, his wings tight against his back. The shining light coming from his torch creates a stark difference between the darkness cloaking this cell. Blinking against the light, his eyes find mine, his lips pulling into a smirk.

“Shadow-singer,” The Illyrian turns to greet Azriel, who says nothing in return, making him focus his attention back to me. “And you, I do not know the name of. Enlighten me.”

I stare at him, knowing Azriel wants me to stay quiet, though everything in me wants to question him. His motifs, his goals, who he works for, though I have my speculations.

He looks gruesome in the flickering light, and as his face consorts in anger at my silence, I know deep down we are fucked.

“Do you not know who I am, Little Raven?” His voice soft, so different from his exterior.

The only sound I hear is my heartbeat, pounding in my ears, and I think it might drown out the next thing he says, I think I might hope it does.

“I am Commander Denholm, of High King Koschei the Deathless’ armies.”

And I think I might die a little bit.

“Get your hands off her!” Azriel’s chains rattle and screech. My own chains pulled by the Gods forsaken male in front of me, hard enough to send me to my knees a second time. I seethe up at him, my anger unmatched. Separating us would mean interrogation, and I reckon this man does not do that civilized. I will not let this man get his hands on Azriel.

I balk as his hands come down to grip my chin and Azriel growls.

“Resist and your friend here die; it is not ideal, but one source of information is all I need.”

That shuts me up pretty quick. I look back at Azriel, who, based on my expression, tugs harder at his chains, knowing I’m yielding. I memorize his face, his expression desperate and full of despair. “Please.” He pleads with Denholm.

I stand on shaking legs, my mind catching up to what this means, playing every scenario to what an interrogation entail. Looking back to Denholm I raise my head a fraction. I will not go lightly, nor will I yield the information he wants, needs.

Tugging on my chains he walks me out of the damp cell; the hallway is made of dark stone, where no light would have made its way down here would it not be for the torches littering the walls. We turn a corner, and doors line every side of us. I try to picture what type of person, or creature, must be behind some of them. Were they innocent, sent here only by mistake? Or were they mad, locked in a battle of the mind, bloodthirsty and cruel?

We continue around another corner and up a set of stairs, at the end of the hallway lay another set of stairs, but he took a right corner, and I followed.

I knew we were close by the expression on his face; cold satisfaction reeked from him. At the end lay a big iron door, heavy enough that even the Commander had to push it open, I am sure it is thick enough to be soundproof.

A small sound escapes my lips, not going unnoticed by Denholm. He threads my chains through a hook in the ceiling and pulls me up just so that my toes reach the cold ground.

He has turned his back to me, ravaging through a table holding different objects I am sure Azriel could name. Reminded of the fact that Azriel does this for a living, I wonder if this is how his victims must feel. If he thinks what is happening right now is right, considering he does this too.

 My breath comes quicker, and quicker, until I’m sure I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. The walls are moving, and they are moving inwards, closing in on me. My heart is like a finch’s. I cannot breathe, and tears roll down my face as the Commander turns around to meet my gaze. His wings ruffling and rearranging, as I have seen Azriel’s and Cassian’s do when excited.

And in his hand, appearing from his side to give me a good view, is a whip.

And a sob escapes me.

Tag List: @tele86 @lilah-asteria @mariahoedt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @tenshis-cake @mybestfriendmademe

[stopscammingartists]

glip made another long cohost post that is extremely hypocritical wrt the scenes they do to tear people apart

They sure did.

I don't disagree with Glip here. I myself am a very private person and prefer to not talk about myself. The issue is, as you said, the person who is saying this, also put in place the Test and Scene system which spits in the very face of this idea:

A system where if you "hurt" someone, you must be brutally honest about anything and everything that comes up during the "test" with not only the person you supposedly hurt, but multiple people in the group!

So, I have a lot of feelings about this. I don't think most victims want to "punish" Glip. Rina's zine mentioned Glip by name but it was obscured, and Iz was given the alias 'the predator' to obscure them. Rina would have done something besides create that zine if her goal wasn't to process their feelings and heal. Jolly approached me to talk about what they went through and publish their story to help them heal and accept that they were wronged. Boo also just wanted to share what the Floraverse community did to them, similar to Bryn who explicitly also wanted to warn others of how the community is dangerous.

And to be clear, Glip is talking about people like Rina here based on recent language they used in the server about her:

So Glip in one breath is saying it's bad to "punish" your abuser, likely referring to people like Rina, Jolly, Boo and Bryn who mostly just wanted to explore and process their respective trauma...But in the next sentence says it's important to process these feelings and get them out, like uh, what Rina, Jolly, Boo and Bryn did.

I think the ultimate conclusion that can be derived from this is that Glip is setting up a false dichotomy where if you decide to process your trauma in a way that hurts the person who traumatized you, by say, talking about it publicly, then that must mean your goal is to punish your abuser and that of course "will never stop the abuse".

This is of course, nonsense. Made worse by the fact Glip is presenting what is ultimately "shut the fuck up and fuck off" as the only way to heal, because hey, talking about your trauma "punishing the abuser" never works.

There's more nuance to these situations then victims you abused looking to get even. This blog, and floraverseisacult.com do not exist to hurt Glip or "punish them". I have healed, recovered and moved on from what pmd-e has done to me as a kid, and a majority of people behind the website have done the same with what Glip has done to them. So why does this massive call-out blog and call-out website exist if it's not to punish Glip?

I returned to being active on this blog because I read Rina's zine and learned that Glip never changed. The same holds true for the people behind the website. We all healed and moved the fuck on until we learned that the abuse machine is still in operation.

Some people hold out hope, but a majority now realize that Glip is, for whatever reason, fundamentally incapable of not enabling abuse and not abusing others. We understand that the abuse machine will only be turned off when Glip is incapable of managing a community for whatever reason.

So, if we can't turn off the abuse machine, then why does this blog and that site exist? Because we can use the knowledge we gained from what Glip did to us that we healed from and broadcast it to make the abuse machine run slower, make it need more repairs, give it less people to run on for fuel.

If you are aware that something bad is likely to happen to you in a certain environment, you avoid that environment. We don't want Glip to continue hurting people, but we understand Glip will never stop. So we work at it from the other side of the abuse and try to prevent victims from getting close to Glip for it to happen in the first place. This is not done out of hate or malice, but sadness and empathy for the people Glip abused, and anger that the abuse still happens. By it's nature, part of the goal here is to support the people who Glip has traumatized who often feel they do not have a voice.

Does this hurt or in a way "punish" Glip? Sure. Having your reputation tarnished because people talk about the awful things you have done and are still doing is definitely, in a way "hurtful".

But hurting Glip was never the goal. It's a cost to be paid for preventing more people from falling victim to them. It's not a cost I enjoy paying, but I and others simply feel that doing nothing is objectively worse then paying that cost.

[underwhelmingalchemist]

Kids these days and using their AI voices making people sing songs they’ve never sung before. Back in my day, we ripped audio clips from shows and pieced them into utaloid software to make anime characters sing Happy Synthesizer. Uphill! In the snow! Both ways!

[running-in-the-dark]

sooooo

I'm 32 now

when can I expect to finally grow out of getting obsessed with men people stuff? I'm waiting....

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[campingwiththecharmings]

one thing i hate about online friendships is the lack of closure you have when someone leaves.

[angeltism]

out of the shower , feeling slightly less shit about myself (and way less like saying uncalled for immature mean things) however still dealing with the realization that I am possibly the most replaceable person in the world

[bigendershadowthehedghog]

I hate having like wants and needs and shit why can't I just be low maintenance. like a succulent

[deus-ex-mona]

felt nostalgic, so take this pic that encompasses my entire school life lmao

[rattusn0rvegicus]

It's always funny to me when people are like "Oh yeah I worked full time and did school full time and did all these extracurriculars" and I'm like "wow that's awesome! I worked part time and did school part time, I have no idea how you could have pulled off a workload like that" and they Always respond like "Good on you for taking care of your mental health! I was such a mess during that time" Like... ha

Hahaha.

You thought I didn't do as much work as you to *take care of my mental health*, not because I was literally at my absolute limit of stress with that workload and personal life stuff? Buddy pal I was actively suicidal and delusional and self harming idk where this "good mental health" was that you're talking about but I certainly didn't have it. Can I have some of this mythical mental health you speak of because I must have it since I'm unable to be as productive as you?

[yoohyeontual]

I’M NOT SEEING MY AUNT ON CHRISTMAS !!! 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

[jrueships]

thots on jimmy and tyler herro??? jimmy is obsessed with that weird white boy

tyler herro is so fucking fuck fugly and i cannot CANNOT get behind him (both literally and figuratively) or i will DISintergrate and everything he does against ME and MY teams should be registered OFFENSES !!!!!!!

but i let him live because he is keldon's boyfriend. Who is also .. Jimmy's boyfriend 😭 but jimmy is NOT keldon's boyfriend!!!!!!!! let's make that VERY clear ‼️

in all seriousness tho... i think he is ugly NOno im kidding i mean . im not 😐 but i am 🧍🏿. BUT FRFR i think the jimmy tyler dynamic is VERY interesting in the way that all it took to take down commitment fearing sexy mink butler was one white boy goated with the sauce (and not even rlly ... jimmy just deludes himself that Tyler is an ethereal being. He lukafies him. And for what reason???? Tyler does the bare minimum and suddenly he's got Jimmy humping his arm shouting glory to the gods above like LEAVE THIS MAN ALONE???? you could literally find another one who looks and acts exactly the same buying a hot pickel at a gas station. Why is Tyler the chosen one..) it's very interesting to see the pickiest man in the world desire a salt lick for dinner. When bam is RIGHT there ?!??? it's INSANE !!! .... it's Jimmy. i'm afraid..

[johndonneswife]

I just wanted to tell you that your post about families and wedding stuff was relatable and I’m sorry you’re dealing with all of that. I can’t relate 100% since I am not getting married, but I’ve also never thought about it too much, since I have this fear that people who accept me now won’t accept me if I tell them I’m marrying a woman one day. I dunno, I think straight people are weird when it comes to weddings, like they didn’t think you were serious before that? Like it was a phase? (cont.)