also here is a whole website that not only has a shit ton of adventures and such but lets you search for any item or npc or whatever and see their stats and info at your fingertips
Three friends traveling to the city stop off at a hunters camp to purchase a vampire for one of them to research at the university he will be attending. They purchase something a little different instead.
note: I've taken great liberties with this little german mythological creature. its physical appearance is about ninety percent human in this story. Its name and m.o. are borrowed from folklore
Three friends traveling to the city stop off at a hunters camp to purchase a vampire for one of them to research at the university he will be attending. They purchase something a little different instead.
note: I've taken great liberties with this little german mythological creature. its physical appearance is about ninety percent human in this story. Its name and m.o. are borrowed from folklore
What would you do if you were scrolling through recommended tumblr posts and one was from someone you don't know and it was just a picture of your dad captioned "fucking hate this guy" and it had hundreds of notes
The vampire huntersâ guild was an unassuming brick building with no signs. Oliver went up the stairs to the entrance and pushed the door open. The lobby was spotlessly clean but worn, and there was a big wooden desk with neatly stacked paperwork. No one was sitting at the desk, but there was a bell with a âRing for Serviceâ sign. He thought he could hear some people talking down the hallway, but otherwise, there was no sign of any occupants. He tapped the bell and waited.
He wasnât prepared for a man to come bolting down the hall at top speed. He was tall with broad shoulders, wearing a sturdy shirt and slacks, and his face was flushed. âWelcome to the guild!â he said, holding out his hand to shake. âAre you interested in the noble profession of vampire hunting?â
Oliver shook his hand, his fingers slightly crushed by the hunterâs grip. âIâm interested in consulting with a vampire hunter,â he explained.
âI see,â he said, looking a bit deflated that Oliver didnât want to rush out and slay vampires. âMy name is Benjamin, and Iâd be happy to consult with you about your problem. Right this way, please.â
Benjaminâs office was unnaturally neat, so much so that it didnât look as though it were in use. It was primarily occupied by a large desk and a number of filing cabinets, although there was also a trunk, several swords in a holder, and a crossbow hanging off the wall. Bulbs of garlic were strung up over the door and window. The hunter sat down behind the desk and pulled a legal pad and mechanical pencil from a drawer, poised to take notes. âTell me, what seems to be your trouble?â
Oliver had decided to keep the parts of the story about Alexander vague. Despite Sueâs words, he still didnât feel comfortable putting Alexander in the crosshairs of a hunter, not after heâd gone through the trouble to try and warn him. âOne of my patrons warned me that thereâs an important vampire auction happening soon, and that he thought I might be a target. He advised me to lock myself into my apartment at night,â he said. âAnd that very same night, I heard someone or something break into my shop and rattle the door to my apartment. Iâm afraid there might be a vampire after me, one willing to go through considerable trouble to capture me and place me on an auction block."
âThat sounds serious.â Benjaminâs eyes were wide. âWe suspected that there was a large auction imminent, as vampire activity and human disappearances have both been common this week. My colleague was monitoring one of their clubs last night, and she reported that it was packed to the gills with vampires dressed in their best. That usually means that the old and powerful vampires have been stirred up by something.â
âSo there really is an auction this week?â
âMost likely,â said Benjamin, as he stood up and began pacing. His strides were large enough and the office was small enough that he could only take two or three paces before needing to turn around. âItâs a ghastly event. Vampires kidnap innocent humans off the street to serve as merchandise. Itâs said that the most desirable humans are sold for thousands of dollars, maybe as much as ten thousand.â
âTen thousand dollars to buy a person? What makes any person worth that much to them?â
âNo one knows exactly what traits a vampire finds important or why. It most likely has something to do with blood quality, properties that only a vampire can sense. They also target people who are alone and less likely to be missed, as well as people who respond easily to their mesmeric techniques.â
Oliver swallowed hard. He certainly fit the bill of a person who was entirely alone and not likely to be missed. If a vampire kidnapped him and locked up the shop afterwards, his absence might go unnoticed indefinitely. And as for responding to mesmeric techniques⊠whatever Alexander had done to him yesterday had put him in a daze right away. Alexander certainly seemed to think that Oliver was an enticing target for a vampire, and he might know from personal experience.
âSuppose I am one of those people that the vampires want to sell at auction, for whatever reason. What would happen to me?â
âYou must never allow them to capture you!â Benjamin said, slamming his palms on the desk. âWe have a good idea of what the auctions are like, thanks to the scattered memories of recovered thralls. They keep people in cages, as though theyâre cattle. One by one, the people are taken away, and their minds are worked over to be permanently obedient to vampires.â
âThey can do that?â
âTheyâve done it to countless people,â said Benjamin with a grimace. âOnce theyâve put all of the humans under their hypnotic trance, they dress them up as if going to a ball â both men and women in fancy dresses and jewels â and sell them to some rich vampire, never to see the light of day again.â
âWhat happens to the people who are sold?â
âThey become a servant of a vampire, mindlessly loyal and obedient, and of course happy to offer up their blood. Theyâll be trapped like that forever unless their vile master is killed by a hunter.â
Oliver could picture himself all too vividly, his intelligence taken from him, kneeling at some vampireâs feet with a vacant smile plastered on his face. âHow can I stop them?â asked Oliver desperately. âIf Iâm really worth that much money to them, they wonât give up easily.â
âThereâs only one possible solution!â said Benjamin, punctuating his words by slapping the desk again. âWe must slay the vile monster tonight!â
âI suppose that would solve the problem.â Oliver wasnât expecting the hunter to be quite this enthusiastic about the prospect, even though it was his job. âUm, I donât have a lot of money. What would I need to payâŠ?â
âPay? Of course you arenât going to have to pay. Protecting the innocent from vampires is my sworn duty. The only pay I require is the satisfaction of a job well done,â said Benjamin very seriously. âThat, and whatever valuable trinkets the vampire may have been carrying. Unfortunately, the satisfaction of a job well done does not pay for rent and food.â
âIf youâre really okay with that⊠I would appreciate your help.â
Benjamin had a terrifyingly intense look on his face. âAnd I appreciate you leading me to one of the vampires who has been rounding up people for their hideous auction. Iâll stop at nothing until every last one of them is dust.â
Oliver was glad he hadnât mentioned too much about Alexander. âWhat do I need to do?â
âTake me to your home. Iâll set up a watch outside as the sun sets, and wait for your vampire stalker to arrive. Once they do, weâll do glorious battle!â He pulled a stake from a drawer, twirling it in his fingers. âBy the time the sun rises, only I will remain.â He picked up a leather belt from a hook on the wall, one with several attached pouches, and slipped the stake into a holder. The stake was followed by a silver knife, and once that was all secured, he put on a leather vest and took the crossbow off the wall. Oliver watched all of this, fascinated. Benjamin certainly seemed like the real deal.
âBefore we go,â he said, rummaging around in the trunk for something, âwho is this patron you mentioned, who knew about the auction house? Are you sure they arenât a vampire themselves?â
Oliver squirmed. He thought he had gotten away with being vague. âHeâs one of my best patrons, and⊠I donât know if heâs a vampire or not,â he admitted. âHe doesnât seem to be a threat to me. I donât think you need to, you know. Slay him.â
Benjamin leaned in too close to Oliverâs personal space, his eyes even more frighteningly intense up close. âIs he unusually pale or cold? Does he have out of the ordinary interests? Do his eyes seem particularly captivating?â
âHe is very pale, and he buys all of my rare books concerning the supernatural, but thatâs hardly proof ââ
âHas he ever manipulated you, or put you under his spell?â Benjamin demanded. âIt only takes a moment with some powerful vampires, and you might not even remember being hypnotized. Have you ever felt especially good around him? Looked forward to his visits? Had an urge to be of service to him? Responded automatically to his commands without thinking?â
Oliver tensed, thinking of how heâd fallen into a trance while talking to Alexander the night before, agreeing to close down his shop early. It had felt so nice to listen to his voice, as though heâd be perfectly happy to listen to Alexander read the dictionary. Benjaminâs other questions were also making him uncomfortable. He definitely had looked forward to Alexanderâs visits, and he was always so eager to help him with any of his requests. Oliver thought it was natural, because Alexander had bottomless pockets and Oliver was always in need of the money, but perhaps it had been something more.
âI⊠may have been hypnotized by Alexander, at least once,â Oliver admitted reluctantly. âIf it was only briefly, and for a benign purpose, then was it really that dangerous?â
Benjamin looked as though Oliver had just confessed to a murder. âYou say that your vampire patron hypnotized you?â
âI donât know if he was a vampire!â Oliver protested. âHe does fit part of your description, and he may have hypnotized me, but ââ
"Let me see your neck." Benjamin grasped his shirt and was unbuttoning it.
"What on earth are you --"
"I'm checking for vampire bites. They're usually on the neck, but can also be on the wrist or other places." He pushed aside Oliver's collar, examining his neck and shoulders as if he were a doctor, as Oliver did his best to not flinch away. Just as he seemed to be finished, he undid Oliver's cuffs and pushed his sleeves up to the elbow, running his fingers along Oliver's arms. âWait here.â Benjamin was out of the room like a shot fired, leaving Oliver standing there, bewildered, buttoning up his shirt again.
He hoped he didnât regret bringing up Alexander. Oliver really had grown fond of him as a patron, apart from his money, and the thought of getting him killed made him ill, even if he was a vampire. On the other hand, what if Alexander really was hypnotizing him all this time? If vampires were real and after him, if they really had the power to mesmerize a human and erase their memories of it, how could he even be sure that his mind was his own?
Benjamin returned with a glass of what seemed to be juice in his hands, oddly enough. "Drink all of this," he said, pushing the glass into Oliver's hands.
"What is it?"
"Grapefruit juice. Citrus is ideal for waking up the mind and lifting hypnotic trance."
"If you say so," said Oliver skeptically. The juice did smell and look like ordinary grapefruit juice, so he tentatively took a sip, grimacing at how sour it was.
Benjamin was staring at him intently as he drank. "So? Do you feel any different?"
"Not especially," said Oliver.
"It's a treatment that only works for light vampiric influence. If you've truly been under this vampire's sway⊠how long has he been visiting your shop?"
"Quite some time. Years, at least. I haven't kept track."
"âŠYears. How odd that he should only bring up the auction now," said Benjamin thoughtfully.
"Maybe he's not a --"
"Oh, no, your description makes it clear that this Alexander must be a creature of the night. But you needn't worry -- if he is, I will dispatch him as easily as I will any other vampire who threatens your person," he said, puffed up with confidence.
"I don't want you to kill Alexander," said Oliver, alarmed. "He hasn't done anything to me."
"If he isn't a vampire, I won't harm a hair on his head," said Benjamin. "But if he is⊠then he must be slain. All vampires are dangerous predators, even those that can put on a facade of courtesy. In fact, the vampires that can put on a facade are the most threatening monsters of all." He laid a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "It's likely that you only feel so strongly about this because you've been put under his spell. Once he's dusted, the residual hypnosis will gradually lift from your mind, and you'll see him for what he is."
Oliver felt uncomfortable with Benjamin's strong hand on his shoulder, but worried that he might be right. Now that he knew that vampires were real, it was hard to deny that Alexander had many suspicious characteristics. And Oliver did feel strangely drawn to him in a way that he hadn't felt towards any of his other patrons.
What if Benjamin was right? What if his favorite patron really was a vampire trying to slowly enthrall him? A possibility which would have seemed utterly insane just a few nights ago now felt terrifyingly plausible.
"You promise that you'll only kill him if he's definitely a vampire, right?" asked Oliver with a twinge of desperation.
"You have my word. I would never intentionally harm any human," said Benjamin seriously.
"All right, then," said Oliver, still uneasy, worrying that he was condemning a harmless person to death, one that Oliver might even consider a friend.
Previous > Masterlist
Benjamin is actually one of my favorites and the future protagonist of the sequel... I love my uptight blorbos.
My favorite hobby is making whumpeeâs highly experienced rescuers traumatized and horrified.
Consider:
Youâve done this for basically your entire life, a veteran at your job? Too bad, whumpeeâs state when you find them will haunt you for the rest of it.
Youâve been trained for things âlike thisâ? Yeah, no, whatever whumpeeâs been through is so much worse than that, that your training is useless.
Youâve âseen some thingsâ? Better make room on your list. Because whumpee is at the top.
I respect an "I can fix him" villainfucker 50x more than a "he didn't do anything wrong, he's just misunderstood!" villainfucker. like yeah they both get the cute domestic happily ever after, but man the first guy has depth they have nuance and most importantly they are actually aware they're a villainfucker
but the guy i respect MOST is the unapologetic villainfucker. "yeah he did that shit and it was sexy" fuckers. "was the wanton murder fun babe it looked fun" fuckers. these guys know where it's at
I think an interesting au for bookseller would be one where Oliver was just slightly faster, and got to the apartment in time. (Assuming vampires can't just enthrall the human into inviting them in. Wouldn't be much of a barrier if they could.)
So Oliver is never taken to the auction house, and now knows that vampires exist and may even suspect Lex of being one. He'd probably also be better equipped to avoid them than the average person, considering how well-read he is on the supernatural.
I think the story would likely see Oliver looking for ways to avoid capture, knowing he only escaped from luck, while Lex is determined to acquire the thrall he sees as his (paranoia woooo). Maybe he even encounters another witch as some form of help.
I'd like to return to posting more regularly and writing up some Rare Bookseller AUs and side stories! This one turned into a three-parter that introduces some of the other characters in this setting who didn't make it into the main story (but might figure in the sequel).
tw: discussion of mind control and human auction, snake being fed live prey
September 1925
âCome on, you need to eat.â Sue was watching a tiny mouse scurry around her pythonâs enclosure. Ribbon Candy was draped across a branch, tongue flickering, stubbornly ignoring her meal. âItâs a perfectly good mouse. You like those. Just eat it.â It wasnât at all unusual for Ribbon Candy to be picky about her food, and it wasnât unusual for her to go a month or more without eating, but it had been well more than that, and Sue was starting to worry. She wiped off her hands and pulled a well-worn spellbook out from under her shop counter, Reliable Magicks for Loyal Familiars, and flipped to the chapter on health and well-being. She was just about to check if she had the ingredients for a a ritual to improve digestive health when the bell above her door rang.
âIâm in the back. Feel free to look around,â she called, not able to see who had entered. Her shop was packed full of haphazard shelves, cabinets and curios, each one stuffed to the brim with whatever useful reagents, charms, trinkets, books, and curiosities she could get her hands on. The front of the shop was mostly the weak and non-magical items intended for tourists â inert crystals, basic protection charms, that sort of harmless thing. The back of the store held her drawers of actual spell components, as well as locked curios and safes with real magical items and spellbooks. There were few witches in the city these days, and few people capable of real magic. The vast majority of her patrons were happy with a shiny bauble and a few words of encouragement, not requiring any sort of spellwork.
A weedy intellectual came stumbling between her bookshelves, looking up at them in awe. âI never knew this shop was here,â he said. âIs this a true copy of The Secret Rituals of Atlantis, an Account by One Who Lived Among the Merfolk? Iâve been looking for this book for ages. Even if it is a hoax, it sounds fascinating. Is it something youâre willing to part with?â
Sue was surprised. Sheâd never seen this man in her life, and while he had a faint aura of magic around him, he didnât seem to be a practiced witch. Yet he immediately honed in on one of the most interesting and rare books in her collection, instead of the many trinkets she put out to distract. âThatâs the only copy Iâve ever found, so Iâm not willing to part with it except for a truly dear sum,â she said honestly.
âI doubt I have that sort of money,â he said, chuckling sheepishly. âAnd I may require the money I have for a much more pressing matter.â
âOh? And what brings you here?â
âI, umâŠmy name is Oliver Pines, and I saw your ad in the city directory, under âmagicâ, and it said that you do consultations,â he said awkwardly. âI fear I may need a consultation about the supernatural.â
Sue raised an eyebrow. âThe supernatural?â
âThis might sound insane, but I swear I'm not prone to delusions and I have a good reason to believe this," he said defensively. "I think Iâm being stalked by vampires.â
âAh.â Perhaps this customer wouldnât need her real expertise after all. The vampires in the city were very real, of course, but most of them had no need to stalk anyone. They simply took what they wanted. Usually, when a customer complained of being stalked by the supernatural, it was really some jilted lover or petty thief. Still, she valued her ability to help people with their problems, whether magical or mundane. Business was quiet today, anyway. âWhy donât you have a seat, then, and tell me about it?â She gestured to a stool in front of the store counter.
Oliver dutifully sat down, and then shouted and nearly topped the stool in his haste to jump off, as the stool was right next to Ribbon Candyâs enclosure. Sue laughed. âShe wonât hurt you. Sheâs not even interested in eating a mouse, much less an entire human.â
âI see,â he said. âSheâs very⊠large. And impressive.â He sat down again, shooting glances at the python warily.
âJust try to relax and tell me about your vampire stalkers,â she said, sitting herself down and picking up her knitting.
âWell⊠I run a bookshop on the other side of town. I deal in antique books and rarities especially.â
Sue nodded. That explained his familiarity with The Secret Rituals of Atlantis, despite his apparent lack of magic.
âOne of my best patrons is named Alexander, a very wealthy and unusual man. Heâs always requesting that I track down the most interesting books dealing with the supernatural, and he always pays a generous price for them. Sometimes, Alexanderâs niche interests are the only reason I can afford groceries.â Oliver took off his glasses and cleaned them nervously. âLast night, just after sunset, he came into my shop with a warning.â
âA warning?â
âHe told me that there was a large and prestigious auction this week, and that I would be a target for it. I asked him what he meant, and he refused to elaborate.â
Sue leaned forward. This was certainly different from her usual âvampire stalkingâ cases. The auction house was real, and sheâd sensed an increase in vampire activity in the city lately. The oldest and wealthiest vampires in the city gearing up for a ghastly human auction was entirely in the realm of possibility. âAnd then what?â
âItâs going to sound strange, but he seemed to put me under a kind of a spell with his voice. He told me to close my shop early, and I felt compelled to do that. So as soon as he left, I closed my shop right away, retreated up to my apartment, and locked the door.â
âThat was probably smart,â she said. This patron of Olivers did sound like an actual vampire. Mesmerism was one of their more common abilities, one they used to get humans under their control and take them as thralls. But why would a vampire warn a human about one of their auctions? âDo you have any idea why he was warning you? Are you close?â
âNot especially, although I do always look forward to his visits. He implied I would be a prime target for this auction.â
âYou might have desirable blood. I donât know how vampires determine these things.â Sue thought it might be that faint aura of magic that she sensed that attracted vampires, but she didnât want to alarm him.
âAnd then, when I was sitting in my apartment, trying to make sense of what had just happened, I heard something from downstairs. There shouldnât have been anyone down there, because I had locked up, but I definitely heard someone walking around down there. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then my doorknob rattled. I was sure someone was going to break into my apartment, but instead, they turned and walked away after a few minutes.â Oliver shuddered. âI know this must all sound crazyâŠâ
âActually, it doesnât.â Sue was now genuinely worried for the bookseller. Apart from the strangeness of a vampire actually warning him, this was all frighteningly plausible. Vampires seeking out and capturing desirable humans for an upcoming auction -- it was an all too frequent happening in this city, and Sue knew that many people who lived on the fringes of society had been spirited away just like that.
âSo⊠vampires are real?â he asked nervously, and Sue wasnât sure if he was more scared of her saying yes or her saying no.
âUnfortunately, vampires are real,â Sue confirmed. âThereâs a sizable population of vampires in this city, including some very old and powerful vampires. They have their own society, their own businesses⊠including an auction house well outside of the city, where they sell humans for their blood.â
Oliver had gone pale. âItâs all true?â
âIt is. Youâre lucky you were up in your apartment. Vampires canât get in without being invited. But if you really are valuable to them, I doubt theyâll give up that easily.â
âWhat can I do? Can you help?â
âI do have a potion that might help,â she said, retrieving a bottle from under the counter and taking a swig before handing it to Oliver.
He took it and sniffed at it. âThis smells like rum.â
âIt is rum. I thought you could use a stiff drink.â
âThatâs illegal,â said Oliver, handing the bottle back.
Sue sighed. âWhat, are you a cop?â Truthfully, witchcraft didnât always pay that much. These days, she got much of her money from the stills hidden in the basement.
âNo, no,â said Oliver. âI just need more help than uh -- liquid courage.â
âWell, I could give you a vampire warding charm, or some pastilles that help with resisting enthrallment. I could also put protective wards on your shop.â
âYou could do that?â said Oliver eagerly.
âYes, but those are mostly precautionary, intended to keep vampires at a distance and make you less tempting a target. If a vampire has already set their sights on you enough to break into your shop, I doubt any of the wards I provide will discourage them for long. It wonât be safe for you to leave your apartment at night, and maybe not even during the day.â
âThe vampires could come for me during the day?â
âNot the vampires themselves, but their thralls â the humans they have under their control. A clever vampire could send thralls to kidnap you from your shop in broad daylight. Uh, not to alarm you.â She took another swig of rum.
âThat is extremely alarming! Are you saying Iâll never be safe?â
âNo, Iâm saying that this situation is out of my area of expertise,â she said, standing up. âWhat you need is a proper vampire hunter.â
âA vampire hunter? Those are also real?â
âThey donât advertise in the city directory,â said Sue. âI donât always see eye-to-eye with the guild, but I can take you to their headquarters. It isnât far.â
Oliver fell into step behind Sue as she wound her way through the bookcases and curios. âAnd the hunters will kill the vampire that broke into my shop?â
âThatâs the idea.â
âAnd what about Alexander?â
âWhat about Alexander?â
âIâm worried that he must be a vampire too,â said Oliver. âBut I donât want to get Alexander killed. Heâs always been kind to me, and he even tried to warn me.â
âMany vampires are good at being kind. They rely on being able to draw people in. Alexander may have been a good patron, but that doesnât mean he has your best interests at heart. He probably only warned you because he wants to take you himself.â
âI donât think he would do that. I donât want him to die,â said Oliver. âBut⊠I donât want to be kidnapped and sold for my blood, either, so itâs probably a good idea for me to talk to these hunters.â
Sue glanced around warily before locking up her shop and directing Oliver down the street. As a witch, she was also a juicy target for vampires, and while she knew how to protect herself, she would rather not run into any thralls sent to capture Oliver.
Truthfully, she wasnât even sure the huntersâ guild could save this poor man. It had been all but wiped out completely twenty years ago, thanks to one very powerful vampire that swept through the entire group, and it was still very undermanned.
Vampire hunting was a harsh and thankless profession. Successful hunters were paid mostly in the loot they gained from raiding vampiresâ lairs, and while the rewards could be rich, the risks were high. Few vampire hunters were fortunate enough to retire. Most ended up either killed or enthralled, living out their lives serving the very vampires they used to destroy. The training was grueling, and recruiting was difficult. The guild had been slow to rebuild after the catastrophe, and Sue knew that vampires did whatever they pleased in the night in this city, even running popular clubs nearly in the open.
They arrived at the huntersâ guild, an ordinary brick building that wasnât marked in any way. âHere you are. Go ahead and knock. Theyâll hear you out, at least.â
âThank you for bringing me here,â said Oliver. âDo I owe you for the consultation?â
Sue waved it off. âIt was hardly a consultation. I couldnât even do much of anything for you. Donât worry about it. But if youâre ever in the market for magic books or items, keep my shop in mind, wonât you?â
âOf course! Iâd love to come back to your shop under better circumstances. Take care!â
Sue watched him wave as she walked away. She hoped heâd get the chance to return to her shop. There was a distressingly high chance that heâd end up the servant of some cruel vampire, his mind under a spell of obedience, trained to offer his blood. She shuddered at the thought. It was better that she didnât get involved in this any further. She didnât want to end up at risk for the same fate.
other side stories
Thanks for reading! I hope to get posting more regularly.
Your reblog with the addition of tags specifically calling that out? One could argue youâre making the case that such content is not an exception to the blanket rule you are proposing.
your worldview is dependent on personal disgust which is why this post went over your head and also why youâre unable to identify early warning signs of fascism. because youâre too busy accusing consenting adults of being yucky
As long as there is some category in your head of UnPersons, of people whose suffering is not merely neutral, but good, moral, required, there is a bypass in your soul for committing atrocities. One of the goals of fascists is to first, create and name this group. They'll pick Jews, they'll pick gays, they'll pick sex-offenders or communists or furries, immigrants or heretics - whoever is convenient. Whoever they think will work.
Then, once it has become established that their Target Group has no rights, that there is no cruelty they do not deserve, no sadism too perverse, they will begin trying to lump their real targets in with them.
So you see that it starts with signs that say Throw Your Local Pedophile Into A Woodchipper. You laugh. Pedophiles are monsters. Who is going to defend a monster? Why not throw them into woodchippers? Fuck em'. But then the default accusation of the fascists becomes accusing all their enemies of being pedophiles. They start going, you know, I think those trannies are only making all this fuss about being allowed to use the bathroom because they want to peep on little girls. Maybe those gays that want to talk about LGBT history are just trying to groom little boys. Maybe everyone that I hate is secretly evil and I am allowed to do anything that I want to them. How wonderful. How convenient. And wouldn't you know it, the woodchipper is already warm.
@jesuistropfatiguee712, this is what Miseria is pointing out. That your obsession with finding someone that you're allowed to hate is bypassing your normal moral compass. It is! Look at yourself! When you had a disagreement, you immediately decided that the person you were arguing with was a pervert, then jumped into a fantasy where you, what, hoped she got caught raping someone just so you could have the satisfaction of seeing her castrated? And then, as if you were on some level aware of how repulsive that was, you had to throw in another dig about how gross perverts are. So gross! So gross that it's okay to fantasize about them getting castrated! So gross that it's okay to fantasize about hurting them! You're not deranged! They're just sooooooo grossssssssssss.
My wife is a survivor of CSA. It's hard for her. It's hard for me. I feel like I spent the second and third year of our relationship in a therapy office lobby. I was there when she told her siblings what her dad was. I was there when she told her mom what her husband was. I held her together as best I could in that time. It felt like trying to hold a grenade together by squeezing it with my bare hands. It was awful. I don't know how to write about how awful it was so I mosty just don't write about it. It was more awful for her, but it was awful for me, and I only had one friend I could talk to about it, because everyone else would go on these unhinged rants about how they wanted to throw her dad in a woodchipper and dance in his guts, or how they hoped he went to prison and got beat to death by other inmates, or, better, yet raped. And it made me sick. And the one friend that I had that could talk about it and sit with me in a way that did not make me feel sick to my stomach was a victim of CSA himself. He just wanted to feel safe again, he just wanted to learn how to trust people again, he just wanted his rapist to go to jail, where he wouldn't hurt anyone else ever again, but he didn't have elaborate torture fantasies. He didn't want to hear them from others. He could sit with me, and cry with me, and the gratitude that I feel for him is unspeakable. I owe him so much. He would puke to hear the note of hope in your comment, your hope that your opponent rapes someone just so you could be maximally vindicated in your rage.
There is a sickness here that I cannot make words for. Please change.
âRegarding setting, the court held that both works taking place in Alaska high schools was not protectable because Alaska is a public place and setting a teen novel in a high school is a common genre convention.â
Edited to add: Since a lot of people are reblogging this original post, I'm adding the updated version I did that incorporates the intersex circle...
I know intersex people are still getting excluded in a lot of LGBTQIA+ spaces (let alone wider society) and I think it's crucial to show this group is included in the statement that we all deserve equal rights.
for a while, my husband worked as a call handler for the ambulance service. during his training, they had a talk from someone wanting to introduce new policy and he wanted to use my husband's group as a tester group. fun, right?
well, the talk was about how saying suicide was triggering. if a caller says theyre suicidal, the handlers should say "unalive" instead, because saying the word might actually trigger the suicidal person.
if the caller says they were raped and need help, the handler should say "S A" instead, because rape is triggering.
I don't know about you, but if I phoned up the ambulance service to ask for help because I want to die, I wouldn't want them using tiktok speak and trivialising the issue. I think that would make me less likely to ever ask for help. SAY THE WORDS. how are we supposed to address the problem if we can't even name the fucking problem.
luckily, my husbands main instructor literally said "well, that's fucking stupid" to the man wanting to introduce this policy and it hasn't been implemented. but it might. we are watching language be erased. NAME. THE. PROBLEM.
I wish I were making this up, I wish I could say I was exaggerating. I'm not.
So fun fact, people who are trained in helping to deescalate suicidal people will always say to put it bluntly.
âDo you want to kill yourself?â
A, it has the benefit of making sure everyone is on the same page. Self-harm and attempting suicide are two different things. You can want to harm yourself without wanting to kill yourself. It can also let you know if the person is passively suicidal or if theyâre in the process of killing themselves.
B, stigmatizing suicide leads to more suicides.
C, you will not cause someone to kill themselves by saying the word suicide. It is not a magic word that speaking the name of will cause someone to jump off a roof.
Also, speaking to causation on this trend (separate from issues of censorship), lay people need to learn what "triggering" actually means.
Because way too many people do not understand the difference between "This word is an activating reminder for something traumatic in my brain and it has a rapid and deeply negative impact on my mental health which may result in dissociation, flashbacks, spiraling, panic attacks, or similarly serious reactions" and "ewww that word makes me UNCOMFYYYYY."
When I was working on breaking my self-harm habit, one of the most COMFORTING things was discussing it frankly and openly with a professional. Saying out loud, âIâm doing X to myselfâ and seeing her just nod like it was no big deal and proceed business as usual with her questions was AMAZING for making myself less shameful im talking about it. The idea that I wasnât revolting, that my problem was not uncommon, that it was actually a pretty normal response to stress and trauma, made it easier to talk about it and eventually stop doing it.
On the other hand, the WORST therapy session I ever had was with a young man who I presume to have been relatively new and inexperienced in the field because, after confessing I was experiencing symptoms of PTSD related to childhood abuse, instead of asking outright, âwere you physically abused?â or âwhat were typical punishments in your house?â, THIS GUY sort of fumbled over his words to ask, âWere you everâŠâ, before flicking his hand in a âstriking someone with a beltâ gesture in my general direction.
And because HE wasnât comfortable using frank and open language, *I* got to deal with being triggered by that! Because GUESS WHAT: SOMEONE PRETENDING THEYâRE HITTING YOU CAN BE UPSETTING TO PHYSICAL ABUSE SURVIVORS
So yeah. Obviously everyone has different triggers and different things that help or make things worse.
But for the love of god, WE HAVE WORDS FOR A REASON
he lost his mind again @latenightcupsofcoffee - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
