“Hi, I’m looking for a book with adventure, but no graphic violence.”
“I’m interested in a thriller that doesn’t have any rape scenes.”
“I want a gay main character but I don’t want it to be a coming-out story. And no anti-gay violence.”
“Oh, no, murder’s fine, but no animal cruelty.”
All separate reader’s advisory questions that I’ve answered, and successfully. I don’t know why any of these people asked for those specific parameters, and I didn’t ask, because it’s not my fucking business. And it’s no one else’s business, either–up to and including the government.
Librarians don’t make you reveal your trauma in order to justify what you read or write. You may be confusing us with, uh… *checks notes* …fandom.
We are literally trained not to ask. Any halfway decent reference professor nails it into you. Even if it would help you answer a question, you never ask a patron why they need something.
Tomorrow night is All Hallows’ Eve. Here in Budapest there is a wonderful masquerade ball.
so the thing that fucks me up about elves is like, of course they’re great archers. they live several hundred years. you’d be good at anything if you could do it for several hundred years. but what really fucks me up is thinking about how elves go to war with humans and they’re like, looking at these dudes across the field and they nudge their elf friend and are like ‘oh my god Ch’adrick those dudes are like, twenty. they’re twenty Chad’rick. why are we fighting a bunch of babies’ and then they die because the babies can shoot arrows too. NOT GOOD, BUT THEY CAN.
#it’s like you feel bad for fighting a toddler?#but then the toddler has a sword#that’s fucked up
Bag of Chance
An item that looks and functions like a bag of holding, except in one way.
Players must keep a list of all items in the bag and what order they were put in. If the characters try to pull something out without using the magic word “please,” they roll a dn (where n=the number of items in the bag) and whichever item on the list corresponds to the item rolled is what the player pulls out.
Additionally, if there is only one item in the bag, the players pull out a tree branch that is 1d4 feet long instead.
If the players say “please” when they reach into the bag, they can pull out whatever item they need, no problem.
Executive dysfunction gothic
– You have to shower. You cannot shower. You are standing right in front of the shower. You want to shower. You cannot shower.
– The meeting begins. “Did everyone see the email?” There is a chorus of nodding heads. You nod, too. You think you may possibly have checked an email account before, on one single occasion, at some unknown time, probably in a past life.
– You are hungry. You have been hungry for three days now. The hunger has not spontaneously resolved itself. How inconvenient, you think. How rude.
– You depend on your planner/calendar. You loathe your planner/calendar. You can’t function without it. You live in constant fear of it. It’s an unhealthy relationship. You think you both should start seeing other people.
– There is a pile on your floor. It is a treasure trove, the Room of Requirement. It has everything. You look for something specific. It has nothing. There was never any pile.
– There’s been a change of plans, they say. You don’t understand. They repeat: “there’s been a change of plans.” You don’t understand. The mere suggestion causes a buzzing in your head that drowns out everything else. You don’t understand.
– You’re in class and you don’t understand the lecture. You look back at your past notes. You look at a calendar. You have not been to class in two weeks. You have no memory of this supposed time. Where did it go? Why did it leave?
– “Organizational tips for success: Keep a planner! Write it down! Stick to a schedule! Make a list!” You are torn between deranged laughter and ugly crying. You choose both.
backup blog in case tumblr explodes 