miss cybergirl 2094

i HATE self-censorship for a lot of reasons, but being in crisis work makes it even more frustrating. who are you censoring for? like i am being so fr, WHO are you censoring for? have you even thought it through? people who have been raped know that they have been raped. if someone attempts suicide or is grieving someone who did, saying "sewer slide" isn't going to protect them from any of the feelings. a murder victim's family isn't going to feel better bc you said "unalived" instead of murdered. if anything, it's just extremely invalidating and othering. it's saying "what happened to you is so bad that i won't even say the word," which is NOT trauma-informed care. you are not protecting survivors/victims when you self-censor. the ONLY things you protect when you self-censor are the puritanical ideologies that are being encouraged by rich fascists who want your money and obedience

Rainbow Dash hangs around in a deckchair.

Hera and Iris

“The statue of Hera is seated on a throne; it is huge, made of gold and ivory, and is a work of Polycleitus. She is wearing a crown with Graces and Seasons worked upon it, and in one hand she carries a pomegranate and in the other a sceptre. About the pomegranate I must say nothing, for its story is somewhat of a holy mystery. The presence of a cuckoo seated on the sceptre they explain by the story that when Zeus was in love with Hera in her maidenhood he changed himself into this bird, and she caught it to be her pet. This tale and similar legends about the gods I relate without believing them, but I relate them nevertheless.”

Pausanias, Description of Greece 2. 17. 4

“So she (Iris) spake and seated her beside the golden throne, even as a hunting hound of Artemis which, when it hath ceased from the swift chase, sitteth by her feet, and its ears are erect, ever ready to receive the call of the goddess. Like thereto the daughter of Thaumas sat beside her throne. And she never forgetteth her seat, not even when sleep lays upon her his forgetful wing, but here by the edge of the great throne with head a little bent aslant she sleeps. Never does she unloose her girdle or her swift hunting-boots lest her mistress give her some sudden command.”

The Judgment of Paris