Unproductively Productive Weekends

I did have several posts I planned to make over the weekend, but a friend came by on Friday.  He chained me up, blindfolded me, locked me in the basement, then fucked me senseless.

Productivity has thus been rescheduled for Monday.  Hope everyone else had a great weekend too 😉

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Patreon

I now have a Patreon account.  I can hear you all asking now, ‘Venavis, why should we pay you?  We know you are a masochist who will keep posting shit whether we pay you or not.’.  And, you are absolutely right.

However, if you do head over to my Patreon and decide to support me, you will get some bonus content.  Sneak previews, the occasional short story that will NOT be posted to my blog, and Pathfinder/Starfinder stat sheets for some of the stuff I create in my stories.

As you can see, I am in the process of building a science fiction universe with multiple inhabited star systems.  If you do decide to support my Patreon page (that sounds a lot better than ‘to patronize me’ doesn’t it?) you can use those worlds in your own gaming.

How to get slapped (in French)

As some of you know, I’ve been taking French lessons and using duolingo to practice.  I am currently sitting at 56% fluency, which to me just means their fluency algorithm really needs to be re-calibrated.  Netflix has a sad lack of titles both dubbed and subtitled in French, so I’ve been watching the Santa Clarita Diet.  As long as France gets invaded by zombies and I need to hide bodies and eat people while I am there, everything will be fine.  France, do not let me down.

Duolingo has this lovely little add-on lesson on how to flirt in French.

Vous me plaisez

Tu me plais

Both mean ‘I like you’, but the top one is the formal and polite way to say it, while the bottom one is how you’d say it to someone you are already friends with.  And if someone you are already friends with doesn’t know you like them, you might be doing it wrong.  Anyway…

It contains your basics, such as:

Vous venez ici souvent?  Do you come here often?

On va chez toi ou chez moi?  Your place or mine?

Je peux vous offrir un verre Can I buy you a drink?

It also has some true gems.

Tu es mannequin?  Are you a model?

Je ne suis pas saoul, je suis juste ivre de vousI’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.

Tues si chaude, que j’en attrape un coup de solielYou are so hot you are giving me a sunburn

Il fait chaude ici, ou bien c’est vousIs it hot in here, or is it just you?

It is good to know obnoxious pick-up lines know no language barriers.

France, je suis désolé.

Canine Conundrums

My dog was laying in the floor, and the human told him he was a good dog. He immediately started wagging hit tail. His tail whacked him in the face. So, naturally, he decided that tail needed to be taught a lesson and went on the attack.

After a brief and intense chase throughout the house, he lost sight of it. He came back down to lay beside my chair, and there, out of nowhere, that sneaky tail hit him in the face again. But this time, this time he would be clever. Patient. He waited, and waited, until the tail lay down and relaxed, unwary of what was in store. He lunged…

His plan paid off! He caught that tail!. Immediately, he sank his teeth in, intent on destroying his enemy once and for all.

And that horrid, evil, vicious tail responded by biting him in the ass! He yelped and began running, the tail chasing him. It’s wounds showed no signs of slowing it down. It swayed from side to side, splattering drops of blood with every swing. The cats looked on in sympathetic horror….

Finally, the human came in to the rescue, tackling both dog and tail. The dog was assured he was a good boy, and the tail was placed in bandages and restraints. The dog once again lay down next to the human’s chair. The human reached down to pat him. And then that wicked tail whacked him in the face again….

For Sale: Two Cats, Cheap

I went outside this morning and watered my garden. In doing so, I got my shoes wet. When I came in, instead of putting my shoes back in the closet I set them near the door so they could dry out, and left the wet socks atop them.
First cat got up and went to do her normal morning judgmental stares at the neighbors walking their dog. She saw items that seemed vaguely familiar to her, but in an unexpected location. After careful consideration, she went and got the other cat for a second opinion on this strange situation. The other cat came over to investigate. Other cat took one look at my shoes, decided they were invading alien monsters, and decided to have a complete mental breakdown that involved climbing up the curtains to hide in an elevated location.
The first cat, being a supportive and loving sister, decided that she wasn’t going to let the other cat go to crazy town alone. Immediately, she decided that the socks must die, and attacked. Her initial attack ripped thread out of the sock. She would have been content with that victory, only the thread tangled around her a little. Thus, when she started to walk away, the sock followed.
Not just followed. The clearly carnivorous sock chased after her with evil intent as she tried in vain to flee. Despite her panic, she knew the only possible thing to do in a situation like this is to start knocking over plants until that human they permit to live in their house saves her.
The curtains have been wounded and were in need of stitches. The sock did not survive. Neither did the newly potted spider plant. They will be mourned.

Medications in Stories

Alright, I know we should all suspend our disbelief and all that, but uh…

If you are going to go out of your way to actually name the drug being used, please do a little research and make sure the drug in question actually does what you claim.    Cocaine?  Not a sedative.  Yes, it was used historically for pain killing and soothing tonics.  It is still not a sedative.

Chloroform?  Very dangerous and doesn’t work at all like it’s advertised on TV.  For starters, the average person can hold their breath for at least thirty seconds, so a chemical that has to be breathed in is not your best choice for knocking someone out fast.  I hate to break this to you, but there is no wonder drug that will knock people out fast that doesn’t have to be very carefully calibrated to an individual.  That’s why anesthesiologists get paid large amounts of money.

Some artistic license can be forgiven.  I’ve done the bash over the head with no long term consequences thing a few times in my stories.  In real life, the amount of force needed to knock somebody out and the amount needed to kill them overlap considerably, to the point its almost random chance that decides which one is going to occur.

Chemical restraints to exist (we’ve all heard of roofies) but they aren’t instant things and they can and will make a person very ill.  They can also kill, particularly if a person is already on medication.  At best, they still take about three minutes to work and can take much longer.  You will also occasionally find people upon whom they don’t work at all or they have a counter effect.   Benadryl is commonly given as a mild sedative, yet on some people it actually works as a stimulant.  That could even make for a good story twist for you – your professional kidnapper/assassin doses someone, only to end up with a hyperactive squirrel rather than a compliant sloth.

On Respect

I remember seeing this tumblr post.  And I remember thinking, yeah, that’s it exactly.  That sums it up.

When I was six years old, the Supreme Court upheld a ruling that being me is against the law.  I was thirteen when the state I was living in at the time passed a law saying otherwise.  I was twenty three when the supreme court reversed their decision, and decided being someone like me is in fact legal in every state in the US.

I was twenty four years old when a cop started hitting me with a nightstick for ‘resisting arrest’ because I dared to cite that Supreme Court  cause when he was writing me a citation for being who I am.  I questioned his ‘authority’.  I didn’t ‘comply’.  I didn’t treat him with ‘respect’.  So I was beaten, thrown into the back of a squad car, and got to spend two days in jail before getting medical attention.  Other things happened in those two days.  Some at the hands of cops.  Some simply due to the actions of those cops.  I was told I was lucky.  That I could have been killed.

And the people who told me that are right.  I was lucky.  I could have been killed.  And the cops would not have suffered any consequences for either killing me or letting me die in their custody.  Because I questioned their authority.  Because I ‘resisted’ being arrested for something that was no longer a crime.

I was left with medical expenses and court fines, plus I lost my job due to not being able to show up for work or call in those two days.  The cops suffered no consequences for those events.  I was told I would suffer consequences if I tried to file a complaint.  I had learned my lesson the first time.  I shut up.  I complied, so I wouldn’t die.

I’ve gone to many protests in my life.  I’ve seen cops seize any perceived disrespect as an excuse to engage in violence.  And when no such opportunity was afforded them, I’ve seen cops arrange the opportunity by pushing and shoving and threatening until finally someone snapped.  And when even that failed to happen, I’ve seen cops call in plain clothes to start the altercations so they had the excuse to swarm in.  Then it’s the same story on the news.  We deserved what happened to us, and we were lucky because it would have been okay to kill us.  We weren’t ‘complying’.  So we deserved to die and we should just be grateful.

I’d like to say there are good cops.  I wish I could say there are good cops.  But as Lieutenant General David Morrison stated: “The standard you walk past is the standard you accept”.

Deescalation and Violence

There is a lot of violence in my stories.  This has led some people to think that I myself am okay with violence.  I would like to point out there are also a lot of werewolves in my stories.  I assure you, I very rarely howl at the moon.

I am not a pacifist.  From time to time, violence is necessary.  However, you will find I have absolutely nothing but contempt for those who utilize it as a first resort.  I don’t ‘respect the blue line’ or have unquestioning reverence for our military.  There are cops and soldiers I respect, and I respect those who joined to put their lives on the line to defend others.

But I’ll be blunt here.  I think way too many folks in uniform have a fetish for violence.  And thus, yeah, you’ll find me saying a lot of disrespectful things about police officers these days.

Why?

Look, if I can take a knife away from a mentally impaired individual off medication while they are in the middle of a full meltdown and do so without either myself or that person getting hurt….

Please explain to me exactly why I should have any sort of fucking respect for a group of people that can’t handle a ten year old kid without body-slamming or shooting them?

I see more action in a given week than most cops do in their entire careers, and it is extremely rare for me to actually have to resort to actual violence.  I don’t ever have to put anyone in a choke hold.  I’ve been attacked over a hundred times already this year and on only one of those occasions did I have to take someone to the ground.

Why?

Because deescalation tactics actually work.  I know.  I use them every single time I go to work.  Nine times out of ten, I can keep the situation from getting physical at all, and the rest of the time I can stop things with little more than holding onto someone’s arm.

And I work with people who are already off the streets because they are a danger to themselves and others.

So the real ‘why’ question here is why, exactly, do we expect so little from these people we are apparently supposed to ‘respect’?

On what is and isn’t kink shaming

I try, very hard, not to kink shame.   As long as everyone involved has given genuine consent, go for it.

But let’s be clear.  My not wanting to participate in your kink is not kink-shaming.  You’ve got your thing.  I’ve got mine.  There are boundaries.  There are things I do not do.  To give a not kink at all example, I hate the taste of coffee.  But I’m never going to judge you for liking coffee.   I’m okay with you having coffee when I’m around.  I even keep some coffee on hand and a coffee pot for my friends who like it.

I am, however, going to eventually get pissed when you keep bringing me cups of coffee and insisting I try this one or that one.  I’m not going to drink it just because you made is special for me.  Don’t try to guilt trip me by telling me you spent money bringing it for me when you already know I don’t like it, and sure as hell don’t ask me to reimburse you when you knew I hate coffee.  Don’t try to trick me into drinking it by not telling me what it is or by giving it to me in a different form like coffee flavored cake or candy.

And that’s not intolerance.  That’s not kink-shaming.  That’s not me being the bad guy.

You’re not the one being disrespected in that scenario.

You’re the asshole.

Now let us be blunt, and take this from the kitchen to the dungeon.  You may think your kink is the best thing ever.   But it’s not what we agreed to when we started playing.   Pointing that out to you is NOT kink-shaming.  Telling you to stop is NOT kink-shaming.

Throwing you out of the scene when you don’t stop is also NOT kink-shaming.

You’re not the one being disrespected in that scenario.

You’re the asshole.