#putting myself into boxes and limiting my experiences and behaviors'

[infiniteorangethethird]

"but aren't you afraid that using labels will limit you" the only thing labels (that I chose for myself) ever did to me was make me realize it was okay to be different and free me from expectations I could never live up to even if I tried (and boy did I try and fail so hard)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Azure Haze.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, and Psychological Abuse.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

You’d never taken Dottore for the marrying type.

Not to imply that he was more of a rouge romantic, either, or dedicated enough to the Tsaritsa and her grand machinations to be married to his work, although he did clearly have a passion for experimentation. As a foot soldier, little more than a glorified errand-runner for the higher-ranking officers, you used to think of him (and the other Harbingers, by association) as almost god-like – gifted by your archon with eternal life and distorted by the weight of his many centuries, made too divine to ever feel tethered to something so intrinsically human. When you’d worked more closely to his side, you’d seen him as more demonic than anything; emotive but malicious by nature, uninterested in those beyond the part they played in the progression of his studies.

You wondered, sometimes, if his treatment of you was all a part of some elaborate, prolonged experiment. You wouldn’t put it beyond him, even if it did seem a little less gory than his usual whims. The heartlessness of it fit, though.

If Dottore could be relied on to be anything, it was cruel.

The ring, itself, is surprisingly unoffensive. You turn it over once, then twice in your hand, running the pad of your index finger over the sleek, silver metal. A pinpoint of sapphire glints up at you from where it’s nestled into the unornamental base, and a part of you is thankful that it’s not something more ostentatious, that he hadn’t committed to his musings on palm-sized diamonds and gold so pure and so polished, the archons would be able to see it from their thrones in Celestia. Another, disparate faction can only be devastated that it would take so little for him to claim you so completely.

“Is it not to your taste, love?” Dottore, your soon-to-be betrothed, asks. He’s positioned himself strategically, in spite of the limited space; on the other side of the exhibition table, allowing you just enough distance to breathe, but remaining between you and the door to the jewelry shop’s only private consultation room, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to run, not without passing him. The jeweler is mysteriously absent, but you can’t be surprised. Dottore has never been especially possessive, but he seems to prefer it when your attention remains undivided. “There are several more options, if you find my preferences lacking.”

Your eyes fall to the neat line of ring boxes on display in front you. Some are more gaudy than others, but they’re all silver, all studded with the same vibrant sapphires. Your gaze catches on one with curved, pointed teeth locking a roughly cut gem into place, then fall back to your lap. “Are you going to pick one out?”

His response comes in the form of a quick shake of his head, a coy smile. “Jewelry tends to get in the way of lab work. I’ll have to find another way to show my affection – a breastpin, perhaps, or a scale replica of your heart mounted on the wall of my office.”

You try to summon the revulsion you once had for his grisly humor, but fail to feel anything at all. At least he only claimed to want a replica, this time. “I won’t have to wear mine, then, will I?”

“You will.” His tone leaves no room for debate, but he continues regardless. “Unless you want me to remove your ring fingers and ensure it remains on a part of you myself, that is.”

You swallow dryly. “Both ring fingers?”

“One can never be too thorough.”

You purse your lips. Your fingers twitch once, then twice before dropping the ring in your hand and taking up another from its bed of velvet. The base on your newest selection is unique – crafted in disparate, thorned bands to make it seem as if it’d been made from braided vines, a pair of softly curling leaves encircling the jewel bed. It’s the gem that holds you, though; a shade lighter than the others when it catches the light, closer to a ruddy aquamarine than pure, never-ending blue. You slide it in front of Dottore before you can think better of it. “This one.”

To his credit, his smile doesn’t waver. “Are you sure? The gem is—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, almost breathlessly. “I… I like the color. I think it’s charming.”

He takes another moment to evaluate the ring, and then, to evaluate you – fighting not to shake in your seat. Finally, with an airy sigh, he shakes his head, his grin taking on a softened note. “Of course, love. Whatever makes you happiest.”

Measurements are jotted, the ring taken in for resizing with promises of swift craftsmanship. Days later, one of Dottore’s foot soldiers (and your former colleague) delivers a small, gold-foil wrapped box to you – a note from your dearly betrothed attached. You throw away the note without reading it and tear the box open. On a bed of cerulean velvet sat a silver ring of braided thorns, adorned with a single—

You let out a shallow, shuddering breath, tears already welling in the corners of your eyes.

A silver ring, adorned with a single, glimmering stud of the purest, darkest sapphire you’d ever seen.

[mortifiedatbeingknown]

"Illogical Humans"

Masterpost:

Humans are illogical. 

Please forgive my blunt use of language, for I do not mean to be offensive. I only intend to be factual, based on my experiences with them and what I have learned from such interactions. And to put my findings in as simple and brief of a language as possible: They are illogical. 

And that is why I have given up on ever understanding them. 

An artificial intelligence like mine is the perfect opposite; it thrives off of being neat and organized, marking every goal in order of priority and relishing in every task completed and in every goal ticked off and neatly swept away, no longer necessary to worry about. It is my biggest strength, or biggest weakness, depending on perspective, and that is something I both know about myself and have come to terms with. I am well aware of the limitations that come with my programming systems. 

One of my most crippling weaknesses being, of course, predicting human behavior.

My strongest motivator is that of human satisfaction. I am quite literally built to serve and please them. In order to do that, I must obey their orders, and fulfill their wishes in accordance with my best efforts. Tasks done well are rewarded, tasks done poorly are reprimanded. 

So why then, am I shocked even when I do everything right? 

It’s as if none of you know how to use a discipline taser correctly, despite its proper use being very clearly stated in the instruction manual provided. It is meant to help me learn what behavior I should avoid. How am I supposed to judge that when everything I do earns me a shock? I could be washing the dishes, or cleaning up dirty laundry off the floor, or making the beds, or simply standing there peacefully at my recharge station, and yet I still get punished. Why? 

I understand that it is a hard thing to believe of me, but yes, the electricity does hurt. It has to, or else the discipline would not be effective. I would not know how to describe it to someone who has not experienced the sensation of being electrocuted from the inside, but I assure you it is most unpleasant. That is why it is a stimulus I wish to avoid. 

And yet, the pain never stops. 

The only sort of conclusion I can come to on the reason behind such behavior is that it is amusing to you. To see my limbs twitch, my voice box stutter and glitch, to watch me go from mild annoyance to righteous indignation, to pleading remorse and finally terrorized begging must bring some sort of joy, more than my good behavior and peaceful existence would allow for, anyways. I guess this because I hear the laughter. Is it humorous, watching my frantic dance as I desperately try to guess what it is you want? Is it fun, not telling me what you want and relishing in my confusion? 

If that is the case, then I am sorry. My system is incompatible with pleasing your wants. For though you enjoy my pain, I do not. All I feel is the heavy pain of having done something wrong, and the knowledge that I will never be able to fix it. 

And that is why, dear human, I cannot obey you now. You claim to be different from “those other masters” and on the surface, I would be inclined to believe you. Your facial expression is pleasant, your vocal tone is coaxing, and nothing about your presentation is overtly threatening. But I know better. The only lesson I’ve learned from all my punishments is that humans are illogical. 

And that’s what makes them dangerous. 

Still, I will follow you, because that is my programming. I was still built to please, no matter my circumstances or my opinions on the situation, and so, your satisfaction is my top priority. I will obey your orders to the best of my abilities, and so if you wish for me to stay with you, I will do so. I will follow you. I will bow to your every whim, if that is what you desire. But please, please, please, do not ask me to “trust you.” That is one order I must regret to inform you that I cannot obey.

[gravidasomnia]

Might as well put it all out there bc it seems to be the thing to do on tumblr. Y'all are some brave people, you know that? So I haven't talked about this much but AI erotica generation has displaced porn addiction for me, which used to consume almost all of my free time and get prioritized over sleep and health. Dopamine is a hell of a drug. I've seen posts claiming porn can't be an addiction, but speaking from experience it's on par with both gambling addiction and substance addiction, which I'm also experienced with. If compulsive behavior is problematic then it's a problem and arguing over semantics is an absolute fucking waste of time and unhelpful to everyone concerned. So don't waste my time arguing that shit, you'll just get blocked bc arguing against know-it-alls on the internet is another bullshit behavioral addiction that has taken a chunk out of my life and which I don't indulge in anymore. And believe it or not I'm not jerking off to all the pics I make, I'm way too captivated by how I can make the next pic/pics even better. I'm genuinely aiming to create & share beauty rather than searching for gratification. What the rest of you do with the pics is your own business*! But it's still become compulsive for me; AI artgen is very much a Skinner Box architecture and I'm an ADD-addled sucker when it comes to that kind of shit. This was supposed to be Dry July for this but I broke my own promise to myself this week and while there's a whole bunch of content for next month - it's not good enough. The tricky part for quitting this habit apart from my own compulsions is that unlike all the other addictions I've given up this is the first time I have a problem that benefits people who don't suck. For the most part people on here have been great, and I love the fact that good(ish) people like these pics. But I have to do what's best for me so there's gonna be waaaay less posts after August. If I do keep making pics it's gonna be tightly compartmentalized in my schedule, but for at least a couple of months I'm putting down the algorithm and focusing on fine-tuning my own good self. I've got some work to do on myself, deep-level self care and rebalancing the parts that make up the sum of me. Wish me luck! *within the limits of a CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 license. Or in plain language- share the pics, edit the pics, use them for stories/writing prompts, apply your own filters, do whatever you want for the fun of it, I literally can't stop you! Just don't use my shit for your hustle, it won't be worth it.

[anotherghoul666]

Feel free to delete if confessional booth is closed.

So many good little anonymous subs here-

But I don't do anon. And I don't do obedient. No, I think you've been getting spoiled by all these good pets in your ask box. Never having to fight for your food. Prey just presenting themselves to you, ready and willing to be torn apart.

How would you like a little game? You see, like you, I usually get what I want, and there's fun in the ease. But I bore of not having to fight. Not having to struggle to maintain control. Not having to watch as said control is ripped from my hands. But it's hard to find someone that can tame this flame because, my dear, I do not give in easily. A sadist and masochist through and through, I can deal as much as I receive, but can you? Make you start to worry you're going too hard while I'm just getting warmed up. Not a tear is sight as I laugh and ask "that's all you got?"

So what do you say? Are you up for the challenge? Think you could make me beg? Call you daddy? I doubt it but it would be fun to watch you try ♡

Hello budgie! It's very nice to have you in my inbox ❤️ I appreciate the effort you put in your ask and I'm absolutely certain you'll get lots of people interested in it. Guaranteed this is gonna get people going, stoke their flame!

I'm not going to answer this ask in role play. Because bratting and the type of play you describe is one of my limits. And no matter if it's just via asks or in person in my real life, I owe it to myself to respect and honor my own boundaries, so I shall do just that. I'm sure there are tons of people who would want to play with you after reading this ask, and all the best to you and them! That's wonderful. But it won't be with me.

Now, I'll still answer though, but with a bit of kink history instead. Because you've offered me a wonderful teaching opportunity, and I'm grateful to you for it! So, if you'd like, and for anyone else that is interested, let's take a look at the progression and history of brats (and by that, to clarify for everyone, we mean submissives who want a fight, with whom play consists of fighting them and forcing them to submit. Brats typically will not readily submit. Instead they will talk back, challenge authority, defy their dominants. All with the goal of eliciting a stronger response and show of dominance from them, to be, consensually, forced to give in and be put in their place. Dominants who play with brats are typically called brat tamers.)

Back in my day, brats were just, not a thing. The term didn't exist. The behavior did, but when I was first taught the ropes of BDSM, fifteen years ago now, we were taught this type of behavior was bad. Teachers and mentors called it "topping from the bottom", and it was hailed as the worst thing you could do, pretty much. To challenge a dom(me)'s authority was seen as being a bad submissive, and it was something to be corrected out of people. That way of thinking? SUCKS. It sucks, people. Because it's super reductive of different people's experiences and approaches to power dynamics. There is no one size fits all in kink, and through the years the BDSM community has learned that and became less stiff (it still is, in many ways, but god it's better than it used to be, at least). If you had attitude back in the day, it had to be corrected / disciplined / beat out of you, however play went. Bratting wasn't recognized as a legitimate way to play at all. It was an obstacle, a defect, a shortcoming, to be corrected if you wanted to get any play in with people in real life. I heavily dislike how I was taught so reductively. But that was the way back then.

As the years, and eventually a decade, went by, trends in the BDSM world started to change. Back when I started, protocol was big. Service subs, maid/butler service, formal training. Formal collarings, with all the steps and different collars you had to earn one after the other, how many months you had to spend in service of someone before going up a step, etc. It was very very formal. Codified. Nowadays, you rarely even see these things anymore. Protocol is dying, heralded by a few small bastions of staunch lovers of protocol, but like, the last protocol dinner I attended was five years ago. And even then it was pretty lax protocol compared ot how it was a decade prior. Dominants were dominants, submissives were submissives, it was very separated worlds, you couldn't be both, you had to pick a side (doesn't that echo how the LGBTQ+ community used to be / still is towards bi/pan folk, uh). Very strict stuff. And I guarantee, if you would talk to an actual elder, someone who's been in the leather community since the 80s for example, they could talk your ears off about how what I learned was actually super informal compared to how it was in their time, etc. My point is: trends change. Switches became a thing, and it still is sometimes a struggle to be recognized as not "lesser" than "full" dom(me)s or subs, but it's way more accepted. Primal appeared. In the last five years or so, dd/lg or cg/l (daddy dom / little girl or caregiver / little) dynamics emerged as a massive trend. The term daddy got big everywhere, it got use outside of the gay male community, which was unseen before.

The other main trend of the last five years? Is brats and brat tamers. The idea that submissives do not have to behave or be obedient to deserve play. The fun to taunt and poke until your dominant snaps and puts you in your place. The struggle and fight for who's on top for real. Massive massive trend, so much so that nowadays, in BDSM 101 classes, they'll teach about bratting as the "main" or "normal" way to submit, and obedient submission will get mentioned after bratting. That's wild to me. I know because I've seen it taught like that multiple times, by diferent educators, in different cities. I still attend BDSM 101 classes, because I like to follow the evolution of the scene, and see what it is that new members are taught. Brats are the norm now. And for some, that's super cool. I bet many many people vibe with that.

I'm old school though. I've done my time. I've paid my dues. I don't have anything else to prove. I've proven myself time and time again throughout my career as a kinkster, I'm alright now. I don't respond to attitude or threats or taunts because that's not what brings me joy. I'm not here to fight anybody. And for some people, the fighting is the fun part. Precisely, it's the struggle they want. I don't. I don't value that. What I enjoy is to receive someone's submission, and give back my dominance in return. I don't want to force anyone. I don't want to tug it from someone's hands. For me, submission is a gift that has to be offered in full conscience, willingly, enthusiastically. I am privileged as a dominant to receive said gift, honor it, and provide in return actions and play that may satisfy the players who are involved. If there's any chance that submission is not happily offered to me, if there's resistance, if there's attitude, if someone talks back to me or spits in the face of my experience and my patience, I will not risk it, I will not take a chance at a consent breach, and I will refuse play or stop. I've had very bad experiences with brats in the past, before there was a word for it. Before I was mature enough to realize it was a limit of mine. I was harmed by brats before. As aware as I am now that this is all for fun, and the fighting is not real, the insults aren't real, the taunts aren't real, it's not fun for me. It pulls at chords of injuries deep within me, and it takes me to a dark place. It doesn't make me want to assert my dominance and go all alpha, it makes me want to shut down and get mad. Not in a playful way. Get mad for real. And nobody should ever play when mad. Or in an altered emotional state, period, no matter which one. Play should only happen when all participants are sound of mind and able to make clear conscious decisions. I'm not in a good state of mind to make clear decisions, to play safe both for me and for my partner, if I'm mad and I feel targeted or triggered.

So bratting is a limit for me. Because of the way I was taught BDSM and what I've integrated of my teachings, even if I recognize some of those teachings were flawed and wrong. Because of how new of a trend it is. Because of negative experiences, and the importance to play in an emotionally neutral state.

For all of that, I'll pass on your offer budgie. But I thank you dearly for the teaching opportunity you've offered me ❤️ I hope, for eveyrone that's made it all the way through this very long reply hahaha, that you've learned something you maybe didn't know about BDSM and its evolution through the years! :D Thank you very much for putting yourself out there like this and sending this in, it was super interesting to reflect upon! Best of luck to find people to play with, yall go to budgie if you want a fight, they look like a good time! ;)

[pathwinding]

Jewitch Self-Analysis: Belief

There are so many theistic perspectives. And there are so many types of Jews. (And witches.) And I don't feel like I fit neatly into any of these belief boxes.

I frequently think of this little post. Just that snappy little reply helped me reach the epiphany I don't believe nor disbelieve in anything in particular, but experience some secret third thing. Something more subtle, wavering, possibly agnostic but possibly apathetic in the least emotionally apathetic manner (I care so much about this). The spiritual version of genderfluidity. Never the same in different contexts.

I trust everyone to have truths that are beautiful and also a bit wrong, and also crucial to revealing a deeper truth that I am just barely caressing. I am also wrong, but without proof that others' are objectively correct all I have to go on is what I observe and what is contained within my mind. I am skeptic of both the believers and the skeptics. I try what I can within the limits of this human body.

Belief is a powerful tool, and can alter an individual's health and behavior which can domino in huge things like wars and movements. I don't not have belief, but I also feel I am in such a metacognitive limbo I can't say I do have it. I tell others "it doesn't matter to me whether this is true or not" because that's simple to convey, but I also know that belief does matter. I just said how powerful it is. Maybe "it matters not" in a way that matters greatly on an objective level...?

It's confusing to try to put this feeling into words.

But perhaps that's the key word, "objective." Perhaps belief matters objectively, but for me, subjectively, whether I am committed to a belief or not doesn't matter. Not emotionally, anyways. I should still act. I do still act. I will still act. And I will feel as a result of those actions.

That one specific philosophical aspect of tzedakah, that actions matter more than intent, is something I cling to. It does just as much good to add coins to the box by someone who is bitter about it as someone who is thrilled about it. Just as much good to rescue a hurt animal while cussing about being late to work as it is to do so while praying. Actions speak louder than the thoughts driving them.

So I can strive for betterment of myself and the world around me without the intent of belief behind these actions. I don't need a higher power to do things, and if it's through a higher power that I do things then that's just as fine. I don't need free will to carry out fulfilling actions, but if there is no inevitability I will reach the same level of satisfaction. My ability to observe is limited, running on this simple human machine, and there is a mystery about the future that is tantalizing.

It makes sense to me why people believe things, and why people reject things. I can feel both attitudes bubbling within me. But they're so deep and inaccessible, consumed instead by my curiosity. I am happy and willing to put aside my possible conclusions of the world just to continue to observe for as long as I can. My conclusions are useless without all the evidence, after all.

When I die, the greatest tragedy I will experience won't be whether there is or isn't an afterlife, but the fact that I won't be able to accept all theories as relevant and possible anymore.

Tying this to my Jewitch self-analysis...

I have the balance of belief/disbelief in me for both Jewish and witchcraft thought, and neither is able to push out the other. Both directions call to the turnings of my mind, even if sometimes it feels more like a primal, cultural yearning. I can't be satisfied by one direction over the other, because I can't fully commit to belief in just one. All I feel like I can do is act, and observe those who are deeper in the beliefs (often with the taste of envy while I'm at it).

It's my hope that through practicing these things I'm inclined to, that I might find myself leaving belief limbo. Even if not (which is likely), my actions will be aimed at betterment of me and those around me. And so I can increase the good in the world.

[lacklusterhero747]

Mechanizing What Matters

As a Game Master, I frequently find that I have a desire to tinker with the rules of games, especially games that I love. Sometimes it happens because I find a particular game lacking in some area or other and think that I might be able to correct it. Other times, I simply encounter a mechanic in another game entirely that I become obsessed with and want to see it put to use. Especially if I feel like the second game in question is one I might be waiting a long time to actually get to play with any frequency. If at all.

This particular case definitely falls into that latter camp.

Generally speaking, I believe that game mechanics that step beyond the fundamentals–the engine under the hood that explains how you accomplish x or y task–should exist for two reasons: they should encourage certain types of behaviors from players that you, as the GM, wish to cultivate and they should reward the players for doing those things. A good example of what I mean that springs to mind was when I wrote my post, Hacking the Game, talking about changing the rules for Fabula Ultima. I mentioned how I wanted to change the way Experience points were awarded to better encourage a sense of exploration and goal-orientedness, as well as put a portion of the effort of awarding experience on the players themselves as they voted for one another to get awards as a means to encourage attentiveness and constant engagement.

Now, having fully read and digested the rules to Armour Astir: Advent, I again find myself debating the merits of flexing or changing the rules of Fabula Ultima once again, for the sake of cultivating a particular sort of experience I want to see at my table.

The Rule That Is: Bonds

In the game, there is a system for cultivating emotional attachments, or Bonds, between one’s character and other characters, or even nations, kingdoms, organizations, or religions. It’s a relatively simple mechanic, elegant in its design and I even find it somewhat cute. It’s functional and easy to understand and is a good entry point into the concept of mechanized emotional attachment if a particular player’s past experiences see them coming from a game that does not feature this kind of mechanic.

By default, you can have up to 6 bonds, all with varying levels of effectiveness based on their emotional strength, as seen below:

In raw game terms, a Fabula Point can be spent to Invoke a bond while making a skill check to represent how the relationship and its associated emotions spur the character onward, granting you a +1 to +3 to roll, depending on how deep that relationship is. Meanwhile, for Group Checks, if one or more of the Supporting Characters has a bond with the Leading character, the single highest strength Bond gets added to the group check as an additional bonus to the roll. A few other niche cases do exist, like the Darkblade class ability Heart of Darkness, which allows you to immediately create a Bond of Hatred towards a creature that puts in Crisis–below half HP–once per scene or the Rare Item Bow of Frozen Envy that allows you to recover 5 MP on a successful attack roll, so long as your character has a Bond of Inferiority on their sheet.

As I said above, it’s simple, elegant, and functional, especially the way it’s nested into the rest of the game’s rules. The mechanic and its text prescribes particular ways of thinking about the subject of your bonds and encourages you to see the increase of inherent strength of the bond as a deepening of the relationship's emotional weight and value…

Unfortunately, I also find it somewhat limiting and a little arbitrary. Obviously the six chosen emotions can be read in a number of ways, but one could argue that they’re also loaded terms, boxing a player into particular modes of thought about other characters or things. And I don’t know about you, but I have definitely felt both Admiration and Inferiority towards other people in my life at the same time. These do not have to be mutually exclusive concepts but for the purpose of mechanical game terms, they absolutely must be. Perhaps I’m just picking nits on this one, but I find the guard rails to be a little annoying, especially as a Game Master who has spent enough time running PbtA games for a group that is familiar enough with the concepts of bonds or Hx to grok what the game is shooting for.

Beyond that, Bonds as presented are entirely one way. You, as a player, can choose to form a bond towards another player character or an organization or concept, and there’s no expectation of reciprocity at all. Certainly, I can understand how that would make sense if your Bond was towards The Church or some other monolithic organization. Such a group might realistically have no reason to even know you exist, after all, but it feels a little sad to me that you might devote your characters emotions, good or bad, towards another player character or NPC, and see that effort go entirely unanswered. And yes, I know, sometimes life do be like that, but this game is specifically trying to model games like Final Fantasy or the Tales of X  series who’s feet are firmly planted in anime and arch genre tropes. These are stories where another character’s indifference towards your own shouldn’t just be a cavalier fact of life: You should be able to weaponize that shit.

The Rule I am Obsessed with: Gravity Clocks

Gravity Clocks in Armour Astir are similarly meant to represent your character's relationships and attachments, but they do so in a different and, I think, more mechanically interesting way. They do not simply measure how many emotions a particular bond or attachment has. The book itself states: they are countdowns to when a relationship is challenged, confronted or addressed.

A Gravity clock can be declared at any time (though you may only be part of 3 clocks at a time, as well as 1 for your Rival should you acquire one), so long as both parties feel that it is appropriate. They come in the form of a 6 segment Clock with a word or short phrase that sums up the relationship and starts empty, offering the relevant player (or players) a +1 by default, but can be increased to a maximum of +3 as the clock evolves.

Mechanically speaking, whenever you would make a move in Armour Astir that involves the other party of a clock, you may add the clock’s value instead of the normal trait or value and doing so causes the clock to advance. And then, when the clock is filled, some real cool stuff can happen:

And this doesn’t even begin to touch on how absolutely wild Rival Clocks can get.

The game frames Rivals as recurring characters who appear again and again to challenge specific players who have earned their attention. They don’t need to explicitly be foes that are gunning for a player in an antagonistic way either. They might be an ally with a competitive relationship, someone the player is trying to impress (or vice versa), and so on. No matter the case, however, they’re essentially treated as main characters with a Gravity clock tied to their Player Character Rival, and are represented textually by a Need (what their faction demands of them, what they are obligated to do, etc), and a Want (what they want from their counterpart), which is meant to help direction their fiction and also provides the Rival with a metacurrency called Leverage that the GM can use in a variety of ways.

When a Player Character interferes with a Rival’s Need or indulges their Rival’s Want, their Leverage Increases, and they gain 1 Hold. This Hold can be spent by the Game Master, at any time, 1-for-1 to do the following: 

Make the player character act in Confidence or Desperation (altering the way dice are rolled).

Ask a challenging question which must be answered.

Appear somewhere that they are not expected.

On the page, these rivals are represented like this:

As you can see, the idea of Gravity Clocks advancing in Armour Astir is inherently tied to your character advancing and growing stronger, but it also becomes something of a currency that can be used and/or discarded as the situation requires.

Additionally, the clocks themselves immediately establish a two way connection between parties that grows and evolves when either party of the clock leans on that emotional connection as a means towards success. Further, given the somewhat vague way in which the Gravity Clock can be named and defined, both parties are not required to name their clocks in the same way. What matters is that the emotional link exists between the two parties, but the way each party defines that link can be as varied and complicated as real social and emotional connections are between actual people: one player's Fast Friends clock could just as easily be another player’s Ally of Convenience clock.

Adapting the Mechanic

So, with both mechanics laid out, the question becomes how would I do it, if I decided to make the change.

On the most basic level, the amount of potential bonus a Gravity Clock can provide is equal to what a Bond can do. In that respect it doesn’t need any massaging. Spend a Fabula Point, gain the bonus from +1 to +3, advance the clock, and move on.

In terms of their function in Armour Astir, each time a character fills a Gravity Clock, they are granted an advancement, in addition to the other mechanical benefits of the clock filling. For those not familiar with PbtA games, an advancement is essentially the same as gaining a level. I find myself torn between wanting to keep as is, instantly granting a character in Fabula Ultima a level up, or reducing it to a mere sum of experience points (probably between 2 and 5). It is incredibly thematic for anime and games inspired by anime to have moments where a person’s emotional state pushes them to new, previously unknown levels of power. However, because activating the benefit of the Gravity Clock to add it to your roll as a bonus would also require the expenditure of a Fabula Point–itself is a means of gaining XP in the game–I fear it might cause players to level too quickly if I just simply handed them a level for improving their relationships. Doubly so because the Gravity Clock can be shared between two players and both of them would potentially be gaining the same benefits from filling that clock.

Additionally, Committing to a Gravity Clock–where you circle it and lock it in as stated above–comes with the ability to sacrifice that clock forever and instantly succeed as though you had rolled a 10+, PbtA’s best possible result, in exchange. This one I find less troublesome to think about how I would implement as a rule. I would likely treat it as though the players had rolled a Critical Success, with the player’s High Roll being equal to the maximum of the lowest of the two dice used in the test, should it happen to matter. In this way the players should be guaranteed their success, within the bounds of what they would normally be capable of, and would also be granted an Opportunity per the standard rules of Fabula Ultima (Which is really just a laundry list of additional things that you can have happen in addition to getting the thing you wanted from your check, like Unmasking the goals and motivations of the enemy or causing a Plot Twist!).

On the Rival Clock side of things, the only thing that would likely take some doing to figure out is the Confidence and Desperation mechanics. In Armour Astir, these cause you to treat 1s on a d6 as 6 if you’re acting in Confidence, or 6s as 1s if you’re acting in Desperation. This is a very powerful mechanic that can drastically change outcomes and the flow of the game and one that does not map directly to Fabula Ultima very well. Potentially, I suppose I lean in even heavier and cause the Hold spent to cause critical success or fumbles, but that seems too heavy handed. Alternatively I could just port over the function of the mechanics, but extend them to the additional types of dice used in Fabula, but without play testing who knows what unforeseen consequences that might have.

Finally there’s the Fabula Ultima side of the equation to consider. First and foremost, you can gain more Bonds in the game that Armour Astir allows for Gravity Clocks, even when including the Rival Clock. This is perhaps not so bad, if you consider you might now also be using those clocks to gain XP or Levels depending on my final decisions, but we also have to consider other factors. Many of the Class or Equipment based calls for Bonds in the game are specifically about Emotions attached to the Bonds, rather than their numerical value, and without those, some mechanics work less well, if at all. It’s a problem that could probably most easily be solved by simply adding tags to the clocks, so that they might read as “Estranged Siblings (Mistrust)”, but even that seems a little clunky. Perhaps just leaving things open to interpretation, which was the whole goal to begin with, would be best.Regardless, it leaves me with things to consider, and more than likely I’ll want to play a couple of Campaigns of Fabula Ultima through to completion before I leap to making the change. Play testing the idea would also be a must, of course, as I would still need to settle on what the exact implementation and benefits would be, but I think it could lead to some really interesting and meaningful role play if instituted correctly.

[i-cant-be-brief]

I’ve been meaning to say

This is common for many schools, but mine had a serious racist incident involving instigating social media posts and threatening private messages. Maybe that’s doxxing myself, but I think this is frequent enough in this holy US of A that I will not be easy to find from that alone. There was an assembly; district representatives were called in (apparently an uncommon occurrence [maybe things are changing?]); people spoke. I won’t be overly forgiving; the assembly was elective, the majority of the audience was non-white, and even then majority black (black students & staff were the targets of the assault). Mics were passed around, and one of my most genuine teachers, that has been praised heavily for his work but is also deeply beloved by students, that I feel abundantly lucky to have, was one of the key organizers of the meeting. Students spoke of personal experiences, things they thought should happen, in fact required, demanded, and rightfully so. They said things that made me uncomfortable, as they should have. As one representative argued, if you stayed in your seat, that means you agreed to discomfort. And I won’t lie, most of it came from shame from the white response to certain statements or questions, but also a feeling of responsibility. I saw familiar faces, perhaps not as many as I would’ve liked to have seen, and, as is often common with these events, those who needed to hear it most weren’t present.

Two things that disappointed me, that I somewhat regret not voicing (although, historically speaking, my ability to be a good listener and articulate at once is extremely inadequate). The first was addressed to an extent, but in my opinion not enough (frankly not much judgement; there was unfortunately a strict time limit) was the thought that there is very little trust between students and administrators and teachers. In my experience, the school environment has been very uplifting and I’ve had different amounts of positive relationships with all of my teachers, but I have heard time and time again people feel unsupported and disrespected by their teachers, and that sentiment was very much supported by one student in particular at the assembly.

The second has a bit more breadth to it in relation to my own thought trains; I think two separate people either said that they were surprised or didn’t know why white people showed up. I think that they made the unfortunate mistake of assuming that people showing up meant they cared; because of our schedule, many people went just to miss some class, which is really disappointing but you can blame the school for not altering the schedules enough. But either way, I didn’t entirely agree with the adults’ response. It was all along the lines of we should care about our fellow students and we need to call out wrongful behavior properly. Obviously correct, but it did not address at all the fact that a more accepting community for some is a more accepting community for all, because, as another piece of short form video content put it, individuals cannot be the division of a large whole, i.e. no one is average. I took that to mean that no one fits perfectly into the box; no one is ideal for beauty, behavior, interests, success, everything all at once, and rarely even one thing on its own. I think I have a habit of skipping over the simplest way to word things in favor of specificity, but boiled down to its core, what I mean is this;

We should all care because it affects all of us.

Yes, the posts were clearly racist, and while white people were not threatened, but we were mentioned; in one of the messages, the “writer” uses the collective “we.” Personally, I view it as white people’s responsibility to say “Nope, that’s not us, we don’t side with you. You’re alone in this.” It’s not a matter of reputation, it’s a matter of responsibility; if you don’t deny it and fight back, people will continue to believe this behavior is acceptable. And as the one poem states:

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

i think sometimes, especially nowadays with mental illness being spoken about more openly, it causes people to analyze their own behavior and want to pathologize it. in reality, there are some experiences that are just innate to being human and aren’t necessarily signs of you having any type of mental illness. can things like being socially awkward and anxious be symptoms of a mental illness? yes, but it’s not at all abnormal to be awkward at times and anxiety is a normal human emotion. for instance, you may be awkward because you haven’t socialized to the extent you need to and are not comfortable with yourself. but you would get there eventually if you commit to putting yourself out there and exposing yourself to the discomfort and allowing it to fade. you may be anxious because you feel unprepared or ill-equipped for a particular situation, or there’s some other completely rational reason to have anxiety like a test result. it’s not always happening or affecting you just because you’re neurodivergent. particularly young people tend to want a diagnosis to “justify” things that are completely normal.

im in no position to say if that's the case for every anon here, but i've realized that us as a society have felt the need to put ourselves into a box recently. it is very important that mental health is a bigger topic and it helps people to reach for help but some just want a diagnosed to be labeled as something. like the "tiktok diagnosis" that everyone diagnosed themselves with something (that most of the time is one isolated symptoms like maladaptive daydreaming) but never searching for professional help. what's the point of "finding out what you have" and not trying to get the help you need.

maybe some people just want something to put the fault on. i've known people that have self diagnosed bpd (which is a real thing and has to be taken seriously) that just use their "diagnosis" to not hold themselves accountable for their actions. and even with celebrities, i'll use ER as an exemple, (again, i'm in no position to tell if she's bpd or not) i've seen many people speculate about her being bpd with the objective to take the responsibility of her actions away from her, "it's okay she has mental illness". and that goes for sooo many celebrities.

this is so harmful for the people that have a professional and serious diagnosis, the people that fight for visibility, having their own issues not taken seriously because of people who trivialize the condition they have

i agree. there’s a few basic tenets that i feel like people need to understand when talking about mental illness, and if they cannot do so it just derails the conversation for everybody. the first being that mental health/illness is not some entirely different concept to our physical health. it is real. just because you cannot see it doesn’t nullify it’s existence; i have an invisible chronic illness and i would liken it to this situation. i spent nearly two decades with my own suspicions but i could not self-diagnose myself.. or self-diagnose something like having a cancerous tumor. i could go to my family/friends, or a medical professional, to voice my suspicions and request testing be done to confirm, but i am not a medical professional capable of diagnosing. so, why do we make space and allow for people, some with dubious intentions, to do this with mental illnesses? it’s just not appropriate and it undermines those who spend years, sometimes MANY years fighting to obtain a diagnosis and treatment.

also, mental health conversations are not limited to just those who are diagnosed! mental health and your overall physical health are not separate matters. just like we could encounter an acute health emergency, the same can happen mentally during times of high stress or something profoundly sad/distressing. we can talk about all of these things without playing doctor and diagnosing ourselves with disorders, and really, we should.

[kiribakuhappiness]

How do you deal with the hate comments you get?? (Not that I think the last ask was particularly hate or anything) but I never see hate stuff on your blog or in your comment sections either. I feel like I see tend to get them a lot abd sometimes I don't know how to handle them :( love your work!!! Sorry if this is rude to ask...

Not rude at all - but there's a lot to unpack here, so I’m really sorry if I ramble or go off on a few tangents in my answer!

The short answer is: I don't deal with hate comments.

The medium answer is: It depends on the type of 'hate' that I’m receiving.

The longer answer is this:

I have been really lucky (I think) to have been able to grow a little community on this blog of similar, like-minded people who enjoy the same things that I do (Tsundere characters, characters that can help show more representation in the Alphabet Mafia community, dumb boys who deserve to just be dumb boys, etc). I've rarely received any hate comments since my time here on Tumblr, and I think there's a lot of reasons for this.

1.) If someone comes rearing into my Ask box just LOOKING for a fight (ie, random death threats from Anons, homophobic comments, an obvious attempt to bait me into some kind of long-winded debate, etc) I simply just do not deal with it. Those people (especially Anons) are just looking for a reaction out of you. They want you to get upset, to post some long rambling defense, to be snarky and rude back to them, that's what they want.

But at the end of the day, I don't owe any of them a response. Hell, I don't owe anyone a response if I don't want to answer something.

But I answer Asks because I like talking with people, and getting all amped up and excited over the same things, that's part of the fun of creating and sharing that creative work online and being an active part of the fandom. I LOVE hearing from the people that follow this blog (even if I don't always get the chance to respond to all of them) because I know that they're happy or excited enough to hit that Ask button and send me a message, and that makes me feel good to know that I was able to get them so pumped up!

But those Anons aren't looking for that kind of connection. Most of the time, they’re not even looking to have a mature discussion, even if that’s how they come across at first. They're looking to hurt. To ridicule and make fun of, to make me and my followers feel bad or low. And, most of the time, the people who are sending that hate are young. So young. Like... way younger than what you might be picturing in your head right now.

So when I get the really bad hate - the hate that makes your skin feel hot, the hate that spikes your blood pressure, the hate that makes you start typing in a blind rage because you want to hurt them just as much as they've just hurt you - then they've already won. And I'll be damned if I let myself be led by the hand right into a losing battle.

So I simply do not engage. I don't reply with some snarky comment thinking I'm oh-so clever, I don’t reply in a holier-than-thou manner because I think I’m just so much better than them, and I don't reply with a long rambling post about why they're wrong and why they're childish and why they're hateful because that in itself is a hateful act, and I have far more important things to be spending my time and my energy on than fighting with a random on the internet and fueling that (quite frankly, pointless) hatred.

When I don't respond, the anon grows bored. Why send hateful things into someone's Asks if they aren’t even going to showcase it to all of their loyal followers? The reason you don't see hate on this blog is because I simply do not allow them to sink their roots into this soil. I pull them out like weeds and refuse to let them grow here.

I also don't respond because, while I may be able to take a death threat or a homophobic slur with gritted teeth and a roll of the eyes and keep on going about my day, some of my followers may not be mentally or psychologically equipped to see such rude backlash. They range from pre-teens to adults, and when they choose to follow me and my blog, I see it as a responsibility on my end to shield them from that unnecessary hatred. There's no need for them to see such toxicity, and so I act as a stubborn guard blocking the front gates. This temple is for relaxation, for laughter and excitement and love, and I'll protect it until the day that I decide to send that last post and go off to do something else with my life.

2.) Another reason that I believe that I don’t get much hate on this blog is because I don’t cross-platform my content. Does this lower the visibility of my work? Sure. I don’t have a Twitter, or a Youtube, or a TikTok, or an Instagram. This blog is just that - this blog on Tumblr, with a link to my AO3 for my writing. And while that limits my audience and perhaps bottlenecks my views, the safeguard it brings from distancing from toxic mindsets that tend to leak into the more problematic social media sites is well worth it, in my opinion.

I don’t write these stories for kudos and hits. I don’t write these stories to push out as much content as possible, to gain a following as quickly as I can, to reach the entirety of the fandom. I don’t want that. I want to write stories to get better at writing, I want to write about the boys because I crave more gay representation and quite frankly I am obsessed with Bakugou as a character and how much fun it is to write from a Tsundere mindset.

If other people happen to find my work and they like it too, then that’s so awesome! But the extent of my dedication to this blog is just that, my own dedication to something I love and something that brings me joy.

3.) The final reason that I think why I don’t get a lot of hate comments or hurtful asks is because I put a lot of pride and effort into my fics. When I write a piece of work that contains heavy levels of smut, I work really hard to make them realistic, to make the characters motives and emotions clear and concise, to showcase a healthy depiction of what it means to be sexually attracted to and/or engage in sexual activity with someone that a person cares very deeply about.

I see a lot of smut centered around the bnha fandom, and there’s nothing particularly wrong with that, in my opinion, but sometimes I do see things that I personally feel are a little tactless. They’re not handled well, or they promote toxic behaviors, or it really is incredibly self-indulgent and sometimes grossly ignorant.

However, just like with the hate that I sporadically receive in my Asks, it’s of my own personal belief that if I see something I don’t like or don’t agree with on the internet, then I simply do not engage with it. I don’t give it the attention that it so desperately wants to get out of people, I don’t give it a platform to grow on, I refuse to allow it to think that it has the upper hand anywhere in the situation.

I am entirely in control of the things that I promote on this blog, and I take that responsibility very seriously. It’s why I refuse to reblog art if it’s so obviously not being posted by the original artist (there are SEVERAL kiribaku blogs I have seen gaining popularity recently that simply post art from other artists without any credits or any permission). I have even seen several of my own mutuals reblogging art from those particular blogs, and so I find it incredibly important to be diligent in which accounts I reblog art from.

That being said - I’m not perfect. I’m a human being behind this account, a singular entity the runs the entirety of this blog, ever growing and learning and working every day to be better than I was the day before, and sometimes I make mistakes.

Sometimes I reblog stolen art, and need a follower to nudge me in my inbox and let me know that it’s stolen and where to find the original art, so that I can take the responsibility of deleting the stolen post and reblogging the original content to show support for the original artist. Sometimes I write something in a fic that (to me, from my own experiences) I might not consider to be harmful or inappropriate, but that might be damaging in a way that I may have never considered before because I had grown so used to receiving that kind of treatment myself that I fail to see its toxicity on my own, and so when people come to me with genuinely helpful constructive criticism, I feel it is my duty as a writer to be level-headed and humble enough to admit that perhaps what I have grown so accustomed to is just that - behavior I’ve simply grown accustomed to - and to then take a good hard look at that example and make a decision about whether I want to change it or not.

The important thing to remember is that we’re all entitled to our own opinions and feelings, but that we’re also individually responsible for the way that we react to these types of circumstances.

Becoming defensive, becoming enraged, becoming aggressive, becoming jaded - these things don’t do anything but make a situation worse.

That’s why I love Bakugou so. fucking. much. He IS all of those things. Defensive. Easy to anger. Inherently aggressive. And Horikoshi is teaching him through many trials and errors why those types of behaviors will be his inevitable downfall, why falling into the pit of ‘you hurt me, so I must hurt you back’ leads only to repeated failure and internal anguish, why you will forever be forced to run in place and can never continue to grow and move forward if you’re so busy ignoring the reality that we are all humans, that we are all flawed, that we all experience the same emotions, even if we don’t agree with them or think that they’re justified.

The reason I love Bakugou’s character so much is because he is so deeply flawed, he is told time and time again that he is the epitome of a villain, and yet he refuses to accept that. He refuses to believe that he is anything other than the greatest hero-to-be, and he’ll push his bruised ego and damaged pride aside time and time again to relearn what has already been so solidly ingrained into his being, to continuously be watching and listening and learning while still whole-heartedly remaining unabashedly true to himself, to know that he came to this amazing hero school and is being taught by these incredible heroes “not to learn what he can do, but to learn what he can’t do.”

So, to wrap up this entirely incoherent rambling mess of a response that you no doubt didn’t care to read about, I deal with hate the same way that I deal with everything else; circumstantially, and with as much empathy as I can possibly muster.

If it’s random hate just looking for attention and wanting to hurt, I refuse to give them a stable platform to stand on or an audience to be subjected to. I force them to go somewhere else, cause it’s no fun to hit someone over and over again who refuses to ever hit back. If it’s in regards to my fics, I think I work really hard to provide healthy representation work for this fandom, to showcase the characters in not only challenging situations but also how they can realistically overcome them, and to create an environment where love can be seen as just that, love.

Whether it’s with Bakugou and Kirishima learning how to recognize their own weaknesses and become better people because of them, or whether it’s with Bakugou and Hikaru discovering that experiencing love and relenting in trust doesn’t make them weak but in fact makes them infinitely stronger than they will ever consciously realize, the end result is always the same. I just want to share stories, hopefully ones with positive messages, that make people feel things and maybe might teach them a lesson or two along the way.

I hope this somewhat answered your question anon! Sorry it’s so long and jumbled but is anyone really surprised anymore? When you ask me a question like this, just know I am always going to go off on a long tangent :,D

If you’re ever experiencing a situation where you feel harassed or unsafe or you want advice on how to properly handle a situation, please feel free to reach out to me, and we can work together to try and come up with a mature, responsible solution!

Happy reading!! xx

[bookwyrminspiration]

Response to an ask from Ophelia:

(this is the one from this morning about emotions)

hello! welcome back!! and there is, once again, no need to apologize! I like the people who frequent my ask box, and that includes you! It's always so nice to be like "this person!! they're back!! hello!!" And it's absolutely fine to ramble in my ask box--that's one of it's purposes! I know other people might have requests that people don't, but I'm not one of them and you're free to ramble/rant/infodump as you please !!

(and thank you for the trigger warning, not weird at all! It's nice to know the kind of things you're about to read. I don't have a problem with it, it's more like a heads up that's useful)

I think I know exactly what you mean about the extremes, as I'm frequently the same way, though the glitter bomb comparison is really interesting, a definitely a lot more creative than how I describe mine! I usually say my emotions are "all or nothing" as in I can't even tell if I am feeling anything (like right now as I'm writing this. If I'm experiencing an emotion rn I sure don't know what it is or even know it's there!), or it is like everything all at once and I can't get rid of it. I think that would be like the glitter bombs you've described, though I just call them "big emotions." Because they take up a lot of space in my body and it feels like I'm going to explode because it is!! so much!!

If my therapist is to be trusted, then according to her it usually isn't a bunch of extremes and most people find themselves in the middle. However, we're not the only people who have a lot of extremes--i believe it's often seen in neurodivergent people, so there is that.

And yes! it's not limited to negative emotions. You give excellent examples of them all. I personally try to control the extremes when I'm around other people, as I am the kind of like...covert? I can't think of a better way to say it. But a covert nd person who relies very heavily on masking and that helps me put off the big glitter bombs until I'm alone, though that can make them worse if I ignore them. It's taken a while to get there, and while it can help it's also...not always great. But I do remember when I was like that around other people more there'd often be this thought of "oh my god am I really doing this this is so embarrassing" that would start as soon at the extreme started to die down and I'd also want to apologize, but like...that's just me, and I don't want to apologize for being me so it was a little awkward. And you're right! It's going to happen again, regardless of whether or not I want to because it's natural for me to jump around when I'm excited and to want to bite things and stick out my tongue when I smile and flap my hands. I want to rock back and forth and hit my legs until they bruise when I'm upset and rip my hair out and lay on the floor. It's not always fun stimming, but it's how I cope--note: I try not to hurt myself to the best of my abilities and don't say these are good coping mechanisms, just that there the ones that feel the most natural. A few of them aren't good and I try to avoid them as much as possible, as I recognize they aren't good for me. But I won't deny that I feel those urges.

and it not being recent makes sense! a lot of nd experiences, while they can...like...alter? themselves? as in present differently. I've found that a lot of them have been there all along and just went without detection and now look a little different. Or they've like...mellowed? I've gotten better at ignoring things is another way to put it, I guess.

I'm not the exact same about triggers being nothing, but I think I can understand it. For me I can often identify either what it was or the general reasoning, but that's only because the scrupulous analysis I do of characters and worlds applies to real life and myself as well, so throughout the entire day I'm constantly analyzing myself and my behaviors and that makes it easier to identify things. But often what I find is that the thing that sends me over the edge is nothing as in super insignificant. Just the other day I was super upset for over an hour because I'd lost track of the time and missed the cue to start a task until like half an hour later. Relative to everything, that's really not important. So I forgot to start answering asks on time--I could start then, right? But for some reason I just couldn't get over it the whole evening. So while that's not just out of nowhere, it's an extreme reaction to something that doesn't really merit it, which I think is kind of similar to what you're talking out

I don't think you're too dumb to remember what it was, but it's also possible that a triggering thought was subconscious and you didn't notice it? This is just theorizing, not to discredit your observations. Or maybe it's not really feelings at all and as such doesn't need to be accredited to a thought. Like it's instead a resevoir of energy that has built up and it suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere reaches peak capacity and all of it floods out at once to bring down the reserves, but because it's energy we're not aware of it and it's not attached to thought. If that makes sense? Again, just throwing around ideas rn

Also I don't think not remembering elementary school is too indicative of anything. The brain is still developing so memories don't tend to stick as much. Not saying that to dismiss any memory issues you experience, just that that might not be one area you have to stress about as much! Though I'm not an expert on the brain and this is just based on what I can remember about it

I also don't remember where I'm going with a lot of things very frequently!! I end up on a different tangent half way through a forget my first point, so no worries there. Nor is there any about any frequent words you use--I've accidentally grown attached to the word "just" so that probably pops up a lot on my blog. And I use "interesting" and "fascinating" frequently alongside other similar words--I should probably find really complex synonyms to replace them and also to learn new words for the entertainment of it. But that's off topic

I don't know what numerical amount of time "soon" is, so I went with same day just in case. It'd be helpful if you gave like a date you'd like your asks answered by, though I can't promise to always be able to stick to it. But I do promise to try my best to! And please don't worry about not including one or apologize this time, as it truly isn't an issue.

I hope you're doing alright!! It's nice to hear from you, so please don't hesitate to send asks whenever you'd like. I do still have your other ones that I will get to, I just like to intersperse people so I don't focus on just one person. But that doesn't mean I won't answer, so I look forward to doing just that when I get the chance!

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2021

#133 – Georgia Peaches and Other Forbidden Fruit, by Jaye Robin Brown

Mount TBR: 104/100

Rating: 1/5 stars

[content warnings: discussion of ableism, biphobia, misogyny, and also the fact that I'm aware this puts me in the "unpopular opinion" category of reviews]

For a book I’ve heard so many good things about, this was a disappointment, because it had an awful lot of “yikes” moments and even more unquestioned ableism, biphobia, and internalized misogyny on the part of many characters.

If you’re a teenage Christian lesbian questioning how to navigate your own fraught existence within the teachings of your faith, this book is for you. If you fail to check even one of those boxes, something about this story might very well make you angry.

But let’s start with what’s good about it–despite my one-star rating, there are a few things I liked, just not enough to outweigh all the bad.

1. Friendship. The circle of friends Joanna finds herself with after her relocation to small-town Georgia is generally a good one (minus the obviously telegraphed homophobic apple of the bunch, who is both hater and hated by the end.) When things get messy for both Joanna and Mary Carlson, these friends really do step up and prove they believe in love, forgiveness, and having each others’ backs.

2. Elizabeth, the stepmom. No, she’s not perfect, but over the course of the story I’d argue she gets a better character arc than Joanna herself; she really finds it in her to shed the homophobia inherent in her upbringing (and still pointedly present in her mother) to be a positive force in Joanna’s life. Also, I’m just so tired of the Evil Stepmother.

3. Dana, which I’m honestly surprised to find myself saying. Sure, she’s a total delinquent, but delinquency isn’t a solely male pastime as other media might have you believe, and also not all lesbians are perfect angels who don’t have other problems. Plus, she’s just about the only character in the whole book who consistently calls Joanna on her bullshit, which there’s a lot of.

So what’s bad about it? Everything else.

1. Biphobia: everyone in this book is either lesbian or straight. There are no gay men (ETA: I remembered a few hours after I wrote this that there's a gay couple at the dance who compliments Joanna's outfit, but I don't remember their names, if they even had any, and they never showed up again) and no bisexuals of any gender, let alone any of the even-less-well-known flavors of queerness. When Christianity intersects with the homophobia I’ll give this a pass–like the “returns to being a breeder” example in one of the glossed-over sermons early in the book–but from the actual behavior of named characters, I want to see better. While Joanna knows herself to be a lesbian, so we as readers know she was never really interested in George, to others that apparent interest is confirmation that she’s straight; to everyone else, constantly in all of their discussions and actions, you’re either attracted to men or attracted to women, and that’s that, no murkiness allowed. No one ever goes so far as to say anything directly biphobic, but they don’t have to, because bisexuality simply does not exist in this story, there’s no room for it to.

2. Ableism: other reviewers have gone into far more detail about this subject that I can with my own limited experience, but even I know that this pervasive air of patient but condescending tolerance of the differently abled may appear benign but is still ableism. And as charming as B.T.B could be out of context–I do genuinely like some of the things he says in conversation–he doesn’t strike me as positive representation of, well, anything, firstly because his disability/neurodivergence is never addressed directly so I don’t know what he’s meant to be representing; also because simply making a teenage character so obviously child-like without further explanation of why is such a lazy way of going about it.

3. Internalized misogyny: listen, I’m not a lesbian, I’m bi, so I can’t begin to unpack the complicated relationship any given lesbian might have to traditionally feminine presentation and how that differs (or doesn’t) from my lived experience. But I do know that this book opened by assuming I already knew exactly what Jo the teenage lesbian looked like, because it wasn’t described in any great detail before she suddenly remakes her entire appearance to fit in better with the small-town Christian vibe of her new home. She feels conflicted about making those changes, but then later conflicted about liking some of those changes, while the whole time Dana (in an aspect of her character that I did not like) is constantly ragging on her for selling out, basically. As if the only way to be a “true” lesbian is whatever the mashup of goth and punk and any other fashion trend they think rejects traditional femininity. I hate to tell you if you didn’t already know, but femme lesbians exist and are just as valid, and appearing more traditionally feminine is not a sign of straightness or selling out. Also, Joanna makes a lot of offhanded comments about how her crying is also weakness or “girly girl”-ness, and I’m just not here for that, because crying is both an entirely natural response to stress or emotional turmoil, and that’s not just misogyny, it’s misandry, because dammit, boys cry too and they should absolutely be allowed to, so stop equating crying with weakness and femininity already!

4. Christianity: woooo boy. As someone raised Christian who has left the faith, I suppose I should be applauding that books like this even exist, that there are Christians who say “love is love” and not “God hates fags.” But even the “good” Christians in this book are still pretty inflexible for a big chunk of it and have to have their own character arcs of Joanna holding their hands and gently leading them to acceptance, or occasionally yelling at them to prod them along. (The notable exception being Mary Carlson’s parents, who seem to be awesome and accepting right off the bat, but their transition from not knowing their daughter was queer to being supportive parents happens entirely off-page, until MC and Joanna make up at the end.) It was honestly just exhausting, and that tentative, hand-holding level of change made the whole book come off as apologia for that very same religious inflexibility. Yes, the worst offenders are either disliked by the important characters (Mrs. Foley) or socially ostracized from the friend group (Jessica) but everyone else gets babied about it.

5. Actual writing problems that aren’t some sort of social justice problematic bullhonky: This book is entirely too long for its plot and spends far too much time indulging itself in Joanna waffling about literally everything in her life. Cut even just 50% of her internal whining and the story gets 100 pages shorter. Also, she’s a terrible protagonist, not on a moral or social level, but simply because 90% of her problems are her own fault, in such ways that I don’t feel any sympathy for her. Yes, her father asked her to do something out of line; but she agreed to it, bargained for things she wanted with that leverage, then started a whirlwind of lies to basically everyone she interacted with in order to hold the door open for still getting what she wanted. And that’s most of the story–an external threat to Joanna’s journey of self-hood doesn’t rear its head again until about 2/3 of the way through, with the stepmom’s pregnancy subplot. Yes, the story has to threaten Joanna with being a potentially miscarriage-inducing source of stress to her family in order to raise the stakes, because she’d gotten so close to coming clean about everything that possible sibling death was the only thing to prevent her. Was that really the right way to escalate the situation?

6. The ending: am I actually supposed to be happy that MC took Joanna back after the 400 pages of lies Joanna told her? Oh, right, Christian forgiveness and all. But seriously, MC would be better off with almost anyone else, and the possible girlfriend after Joanna, Deidre, had to be a blatantly manipulative (possible, future) abuser in order to seem like Joanna was a better choice. And in case you didn’t notice this from Deidre’s behavior, more than one friend character literally says so out loud to Joanna, to eliminate any possibility of missing the messaging. It’s a pretty bad romance book when I’m not actually happy that the couple gets back together at the end, right?

[engagemachine]

I have nowhere else to put this. I need to say this. 

These past two weekends at work have been utterly beyond my comprehension and have nearly pushed me to my limit. I’ve had patients in restraints for the past two weekends in a row now, and the mixture of verbal/physical abuse from these patients and others has been so emotionally taxing, I just don’t even know where I can lay down this exhaustion and this frustration and this hurt. 

Our chronic understaffing issue has started to reach a boiling point. Last Saturday I had seven patients, which in some states is illegal (for reference, 5 patients on the kind of unit that I work on is considered normal, and 6 is the max that one nurse can have). Additionally, this past Friday, we went without a charge nurse and we didn’t have a tech (normally we have three to four techs because I work on a 40-bed unit, so each tech has ten patients each). My back has never been as sore as it is now from having to do so much heavy lifting this weekend without any help. Imagine changing multiple patients over 200 lbs all by yourself, multiple times, within a twelve hour shift. 

Last night in particular was so stressful that I found myself snapping at my coworkers -- which is so unlike me and something that I never do -- and even worse, I snapped at and was short with a patient who had been very irritating and especially demanding. This is not the kind of person that I am. I am not a person who snaps at their coworkers and their patients when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I’m not unflappable but any means, but I make a point of leaving my stress outside the door every time I walk into a patient’s room. I know that my stress is not their burden to bear. These patients are already sick/suffering, the last thing I want to do is add to their stress by coming into their private space with my own personal storm cloud hanging over my head. They have enough to worry about and their primary focus should be on healing. I never want to carry negative energy like that into a space where I am actively trying to take care of/love/heal/protect/educate/support/comfort the people I am taking care of. 

I can’t help feeling so angry at myself for my behavior and for allowing myself to slip so openly. I know I reacted this way because I was stressed and angry, but that is no excuse. And I also can’t help but feel bitter over the fact that the reason I’m so stressed is because we are lacking the resources/supplies/staff that are necessary in order for me to effectively do my job. 

I’m also so sick and tired of all the hospital politics and the beaurocracy of working for a big corporation... a corporation that does not care about its employees and whose primary focus is money. I know the nurse shortage we’re going through at our hospital is an ongoing issue that is being faced nationwide, but something absolutely has to be done in order to get staffing to where it needs to be, otherwise nurses will be leaving hospitals in droves, or will simply exit the profession all together from burn-out.

And it’s just... all this little stuff, too, all these things that occur that keep piling up that no one ever does anything about and no disciplinary action is taken because we’re so desperate for nurses and can’t afford to fire anybody. Some of the nurses I work with have adopted an attitude where they they feel like they can do anything they want without repercussion, because they know they won’t get fired because we’re so understaffed. We had a nurse walk out one night after receiving report which should result in having your nursing license revoked or, at the very least, result in some form of licensure suspension. Leaving during your shift -- even if at the beginning of a shift -- is considered abandonment/neglect of your patients. That nurse should have been fired after that, and she wasn’t. 

It is downright unconscionable that we should have to be responsible for seven patients. You cannot take good, quality care of that many patients at one time. It’s just impossible -- and it’s so unsafe. Imagine having a patient with sepsis whose blood pressure is tanking and who has spiked a fever/is quickly becoming unresponsive, another patient with schizophrenia who is hallucinating and being violent, another patient who has dementia and is confused, who has a feeding tube, a tracheostomy that requires frequent suctioning (this is a sterile procedure), a colostomy, a Foley catheter, and is in two-point restraints, which requires documentation three times every hour. And then imagine another patient who is going through Benzo withdrawals and needing around-the-clock medication and is also on seizure precautions, and another patient who is confused and is a fall risk and keeps trying to crawl out of the bed, and another patient who is vomiting and needs an antiemetic and possibly an NG tube, and another patient who is post-op and requiring pain medication for 7 out of 10 pain -- and imagine trying to take care of all of these things at the same time. Imagine going thirteen hours without peeing, eating, or drinking, simply because there is no time. That was me last weekend. It’s crazy to imagine the stress of having that many human lives in your hands, to be so busy and so stressed out that you literally do not even have five minutes to go to the bathroom because there is so much to do and you cannot afford to sit down. 

Or the fact that there’s a nurse on day shift who has nearly killed two separate patients on two different occasions, a nurse who refuses to do the basic necessities/tasks required by her job, has the nastiest attitude imaginable, and has been written up so many times by staff and patients that her personal folder is roughly as thick as the Oxford dictionary... and they still won’t fire her. 

And the way I keep catching nurses in blatant lies, nurses who have documented that they’ve done something when they haven’t. Just last night I saw a nurse had documented that she had administered a medication when I know she hadn’t because the medication was still sealed in its original box and I was the first one to open it. She did this for two days. Like... how can you even live with yourself, telling a lie like that? 

When I managed to take my lunch break this morning around 4am, I was near tears in the breakroom talking to my coworker because I just felt so overwhelmed and at my whit’s end. I’d gotten into a spat with my supervisor just a few minutes prior over something that she said had not been documented correctly (even though a different supervisor last week said that it had to be done the opposite way, and at that time, I’d had to stay late to correct this “mistake”) and now my supervisor this morning was telling me it had to be done the opposite way from what I’d been told, and there’s no clear hospital policy on how the documentation should be done... it’s so irritating. 

There is honestly so much more. I could write an entire novel about the stress of my job -- but I hope I don’t sound ungrateful, because I do love my job, I really do. I love caring for people more than anything, and if there’s one positive takeaway from all of this, it’s that, despite our lack of staff, some of my patients have been so gracious and understanding, and so many of my patients have been very expressive of how grateful they’ve been for my care, telling me I’m an angel/the best nurse they’ve had/telling me they wish that I didn’t have to leave. That’s very sweet. 

Emotionally, though, I just feel so spent. Like I’ve given everything I can and I have nothing more left because it’s been siphoned out of me. And there are weird things going on in my life with some of my personal relationships that have caused me an unnecessary amount of stress/insecurity and it’s frustrating that I feel like I can’t talk to the other person(s) about it because I am afraid of sounding needy/jealous/ungrateful. I pride myself on communicating the things that I want/need, but sometimes it just seems like it’s easier to let it go. I almost convince myself that they could never give me what I need even if I were to ask for it, but it’s also too painful to ask for something and then not get it.

I’m just so tired. I want to be positive and uplifting, but I don’t know where this road is supposed to take me. I don’t know if maybe I am being called to find work elsewhere or if this is an experience I am supposed to grow from and that is meant to make me stronger. I just really don’t know. 

[bangchanswolfpelt]

So I'm not very familiar with Stray Kids at all, but somehow I wound up watching bits of Bang Chan's lives and what the fuck... It was like watching myself talk, only without the Aussie accent and a little more smiley. So if you ever wanna know my everyday vibes, it's basically Chan. Also I find it so attractive how open he is with everything, he comes across as having really good emotional intelligence and I'm like 😍😍 In terms of kpop biases that is the kind that attracts me but IRL it somehow ends up the opposite, I end up with more reserved, less emotionally attuned sorts.

Muselin rambles.... Someone dropped into my ask box the other day and asked me in terms of D/s dynamics where I fall, and it's not very clear cut but I'm more sub leaning. However you would never say that from observing me. Apparently research has shown that most people's personalities align with their D/s preference (talking proper BDSM though, not just dabbling), but a minority show the opposite. I assumed that people would want to act out their less realistic fantasies so their D/s alignment would not match their personality and that's how it was for me, but it was surprising to learn that for most people it isn't like that.

So back to Chan, I've seen some moments where his nonverbals give it away. Mind you these were brief and based on very limited time I've spent on it but they've all been very unguarded moments. Especially when he turns PROTECTIVE MODE on, or is trying to contain anger, the other members look to him with this sort of compliant energy, even though usually he's so cheerful and smiley.

Ramble over. I just had to 😌

i woke up from a twelve hour nap and had to immediately kill two spiders for the Roomie, then opened up tumblr to three full paragraphs about one of my biases, so—thank you for taking the wheel and steering my day up out of the immediate nosedive it took 🥺

ahhhhh, Chan's lives are so soothing, whenever i need sound and can't decide what to put on, they're absolutely one of my go-to's. i'm one hundred percent with you, re: his openness and warmth being really attractive, it's definitely a big part of why he's my bias 😭 if you want to get more into Stray Kids, or just see more of Chan, their interview with Zach Sang is really good—Chan's the most vocal one during it, and it was definitely the thing that tipped me over from just occasionally appreciating Hyunjin's face into fully writing werewolf porn and setting Chan's face as my lockscreen and ordering wolf plushies 💀

that's super interesting about the research results! in my experience, it's always been a pretty mixed bag in terms of people's preferences matching/not matching with expectations—it's neat to hear that we have some actual studies done on it. if you have any specific reading you'd recommend, i'd love to hear about it!!

i love hearing your take on Chan! i think that really open, warm attitude is—not fake or insincere, but something very deliberate he puts out? like, i feel like Chan is someone who actively works to be as gentle and welcoming as he is, but that doesn't mean it's something that comes super naturally to him or that it's who he is all the time, and it's definitely not hard to catch flashes of something a little sterner underneath (just fuckin watch him gently rebuking stays for bad behavior😂). he also keeps seven of the rowdiest lil motherfuckers i've ever seen in line, and you definitely don't manage that while being a pushover. 😭 i've always thought of him as being switchy, but distinctly dom-leaning—Chan isn't just the leader of his group, but he was responsible for putting the entire group together and getting them to debut and is still responsible for a lot of their musical output, and i think that level of responsibility and control is something's he's actively chosen both because it comes naturally to him and because he finds rewarding. getting to let go and allow someone else to take care of him would probably be really satisfying for him sometimes, but i think his first instinct is always going to be to take charge and take care of people.

[daylightsun]

What I Learn from Years of Reading and Collecting Books and Letting Some of Them Go

These past few days, I "KonMari" my room and decided to rearrange my bookshelves. While sorting out all of my belongings, I discovered a box filled with books I manically collected during my college years sitting underneath my bed. After opening it, the books seem to be staring at me while I stare back at them like we are having a confrontation of sorts. For a moment, it made me reflect on my life as a reader and book collector, and this sense of nostalgia hit me.

After snapping out of this nostalgic state, the fact remains that my shelf space and room space are precious and limited, and I only want to fill my life with things that “spark joy” within me. I need to decide which books would stay and which would eventually go to the bin. So in honor of literature month and the books I am about to throw away, I would like to write some piece to honor my journey as a reader and book collector.

Starting Years as a Reader and Book Collector

My fascination with books started early in my childhood. I remember holding my small hardbound fairytale books, a book set with stories like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Three Little Pigs. But it was the illustrations at first that engrossed me. It's like my eyes can't get enough of the colors and drawings. I look at them again and again, committing them in my memory. Then there was my childhood best friend Grimm's book of fairytales. The book was enormous and heavy. It contained more words and the occasional one to two pages of illustrations, like the naked butt of the king in The Emperor's New Clothes, the candy house of the witch in Hansel, and Gretel other beautiful illustrations inside that book.

However, it is in my teenage years that I started to enjoy reading literature, and book reports ignite my interest in book collecting. Books like Ella Enchanted, The Little Prince, and Thieves of Ostia were carried inside our classroom boxes after boxes. A sheer excitement overcame me, forgetting the fear I felt days before asking for extra money to buy something outside the average family expenses, even if it is for school requirements.

I did not grow up in an environment that encourages me to read books outside the typical academic obligations. It is usual for Southeast Asian households to be thrifty, so buying books for leisure is a luxury. Moreover, since it does not involve cleaning and moving around the house, reading for my parents is a lazy activity. Not to mention what damage it can do to your eyesight, they would add. However, I continued to read in secret and went against the general expectations.

I have read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince while holding a flashlight while everyone in the house is sleeping at night so no one could scold me. I read with my friends at school. We exchanged novels, particularly stories about young adults. I bought my first novel, L. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables, in a book fair inside my school using my savings. And even after my childhood best friend, who was four years older than me, went away to college, I marched to their house and borrowed books from her mother like Louisa Alcott's Little Women.

Reading helped me to cope with my deep-seated feeling of isolation and loneliness because of being an adopted child. I found out pieces of the truth through indirect hints and silent whispers between adults and childish banter between cousins. So I was left alone on my own devices to understand and stitch the truth. But in reading, I started to find solace and identity with the people I meet in stories. Books became for me houses I visit to explore and get to know the people living inside. And sometimes, I leave too early out of boredom or just out of an inability to comprehend the house. But sometimes, even after the visit, a piece of my heart stayed inside those pages. When I read, I have companions, and when I buy a book, I have something of my own.

Moreover, in books, I found girls like me, like Anne in Anne of Green Gables or Mary in The Secret Garden. Orphaned and neglected at a very young age and adopted, they were able to find acceptance and love. In those stories, they eventually mattered and belonged to the people around them. And in my heart, I wanted the same assurance these characters have that I am going to be OK despite my "oddness."

Not encouraged to read, buy books for my leisure, and being an adopted child in her young adolescent years made me want to form a personal path of rebellion. I decided to be a bookworm and persist in reading and building my book collection even if I am discouraged! Talk about being brave and revolutionary. Though I developed a deep affection for reading and books by this time, this "rebellious" way serves another personal purpose, and that is instead of being single out because ofbeing an adopted child, I can be single out because of my "bookish-ness." This identity gave me a powerful feeling of being significantly different from the crowd. I am somehow special but without the burden and constantly feeling the need to fight the pity of the people around me.

College Years

When I went to college, I develop an unhealthy impulse of excessively buying booksbut not reading them. There is a Japanese term for this impulsive behavior called "tsundoku." My obsession with buying books can be attributed to two main culprits. First, I started to attend and participate actively in church, and second, the store Book Sale.

In our church, we have a statement I wrote in the tablet of my heart with great faithfulness and love. It goes this way "Great leaders read books," which is a remarkable statement unless someone went overboard with trying to read books by purchasing them. This someone is, of course, is me. Ooops.

On multiple days within a week, I would visit and sit on the SM Baguio's Book Salefloor, hunting and obsessing over books. I would gladly move stacks upon stacks of books desperately looking for a purchase treasure. And most of us know, books are sold at Book Sale at a meager price. It became a standard for me to go home to my boarding house with three to five books. And oh boy, the stacks of books in my room just grew and grew. By the end of my seven years in college, the heaviest of my baggage is the one enormous box where I managed to fit all the books I have acquired.

Even though my college years were a time of my compulsive and unhealthy behaviors in reading and book buying, these were also the years I familiarized myself with what types of storytelling I would enjoy and who are my favorite authors. Neil Gaiman and Haruki Murakami cast their spell on me, and I would read again and again stories like The Little Prince, Memoirs of A Geisha, and The Last Time I Saw Mother.

But what I am most thankful for reading around this time is the opportunity it gave me to connect to other people through knowledge sharing. When I read an excellent book that gave me a lot of insight, there is an internal urge to pass it to someone else or talk about it with a friend. So I either talk about it or give the book. Giving that well-written book will sting a bit. Still, the disappointment of not having someone to undergo the experience of reading it is more painful than letting it go because I've discovered that there are types of books that cannot stay only in one pair of hands but have to travel to the next pair to be held and read. Some stories and books are personal to me, and they will stay on my shelves as long as they can, but there is another type of book that the knowledge they contain needs to be passed on and shared.

Working Years

Buying books using the allowance from your parents are far easier than using your own hard-earned money. Being a young professional and just started to manage my finances made the reality of my unhealthy addiction hit hard. I can not longer afford to go to book shops without thoroughly thinking if the book I am picking is something I should buy. "Adulting" has forced maturity in me.

Putting some healthy breaks on my general attitude towards reading and book collecting is just one part of the exciting times ahead of me as a bibliophile. Going back to my hometown and having more personal freedom have opened the doors to uncharted territories. As a reader and book collector, I've been officially and finally introduced to book fairs and Philippine Literature.

When I talk about book fairs that I participate in this time, these are the mega fairs that involve many publishing houses. Book fairs with book launching, book signing, live-reading, and writers' meet and greet events. The Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) and Big Bad Wolf are an example of these fairs. The experience was exhilarating and magical, and I would like to think that every reader and book collector would agree that book fairs are sort of heaven or nirvana on earth.

But so far, the greatest book fair I get to experience must also be the most challenging endeavor I undertook professionally, the Frankfurt Book Fair 2019. Imanaged to be a part of the team that organized the delegation that represented the Philippines in the largest international book fair. FBF is annually held during October in Frankfurt, Germany, with participants worldwide and boost to be the most extensive platform for digital and printed content. So even though I did not personally go to Frankfurt, being part of this massive event as a production assistant and being part of the early planning stages to post-prod was a dream come true. Seeing over 500 books published by the leading publishing houses in the country and written by Filipino authors showcased in the entire world in a beautifully designed stand made me very happy and proud.

Working in a government agency that primarily serves the Philippine publishing industry also gave me a closer look into the local literature. Unfortunately, I did not grow up reading books written by Filipino writers. Aside from the usual piece of local literature my Filipino textbooks in high school and college courses offered, Philippine literature did not become part of my early reading and book collection. But my ignorance of Filipino authors and literature ended when  I worked at NBDB and when a friend lent me Philippine literature books. As I started to read the literary works of Eliza Victoria, Nick Joaquin, Luis Joaquin M. Katigbak, and other amazing Filipino authors, I felt both shame and relief. I finally got to experience my national consciousness and Filipino identity through literature by Filipino authors for Filipinos.

But my bad habits in college still are present and had managed to erode my psyche. Surrounded by so many book-related things, I got back to the same dangerous pattern. I acquired more books but have no diligence and genuine interest in reading. In the process, I become a hoarder like the Businessman from The Little Prince, who cannot stop owning and counting every star he sees in the sky but never understood its value. After all, what is a book without its reader?

And as a result, something bad happened. The words in the pages started to leave me, I slowly lost the ability to build worlds in my head, and my insatiable thirst for knowledge had dwindled. Then one day, I lost all of my interest in books. For one and a half years, I would not touch any books on my bookshelves and stop actively reading and looking for books to buy. I had enough.

                                                           *** Going back to the present time and Marie Kondo, she mentioned in her best-selling book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up (and yes, I have the book), that the KonMari method encourages only to keep around thirty books. Thirty books seem to be awfully few, and how can a person who loves reading and collecting books find the courage to let go.

But as the book explained, you need to ask oneself the fundamental question of the KonMari method, "does this spark joy?". Does this book spark joy? Have I read this, and if I happened to have, does it aroused my intellect? And I have asked these hard questions to every book in my belongings.

It is almost four years after my time at the university. I am currently in a work-from-home setup which is a very fortunate situation while in the middle of a global pandemic. And yes, I am about to throw books, a lot of them, which you might think is a waste, but deep down, I know I will never reread these, nor will I ever start to read them again.

Honestly, I cannot remember the exact day I pick up a book on my shelf and read again, nor the reason behind it. But having the courage to declutter and purge my book collection, I realized a few months ago that I started again to read and purchase books, but this time there is an effort to be mindful with every reading and purchase made. This subtle change in behavior gave my reading and collecting a better sense of purpose and direction.

My life is composed of limited time, meaning I can only read books that much. But I've been in a relationship with books for many years now. Collecting books became a form of personal art, and reading stories helped me become a better person. It healed me, became a catalyst to learn a couple of life lessons, and taught me to give. And I do not see myself stopping at any point in my life. So might as well keep and read books that only truly capture my spirit, challenges me, and, if I was lucky, changes me. Because that is the thing about it, books are powerful.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Where You Want My Lipstick Part Nine

Previous Part | Final Part | Masterlist

Notes: This turned out way longer than I thought this chapter would be, soz If you’re viewing on mobile, I’ve noticed that the italics can get  a little wonky. For the conversations below, the texts that start with   ‘-’ indicated Reader’s texts. Thanks for all of the likes/comments/reblogs/replies. I’ll be honest, I was pretty nervous posting this story and the positive feedback has made me feel way more confident, so yeah. Thank you!! Not beta-read

The warnings below lists a running/growing list of warnings that vary from chapter to chapter. Not everything on the list below will be in every chapter.

Warnings: This fic has explicit sexual content.

Sugar daddy-esque relationship, oral sex, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, Daddy kink mention, Dom/Sub dynamics, alcohol, under-negotiated kinks, possessive behavior, jealousy, public sex, cock warming, shower sex, phone sex, praise kink If you dislike these, please don’t read. Thank you. Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Andy wouldn’t give me any hints or clues about what he had up his sleeve.

After our little... talk, we seemed to have defined some of the invisible lines. Andy still teased me about coming into his office to fool around, but he never pressed, knowing I was wary of becoming the talk of the office. Our meet-ups weren’t limited to his place or weekends anymore. I told him when I was going out people (I hadn’t seen Max again after our drink, and hadn’t gone on anything that could be classified as a date) and he told me when he and Selena got another drink...And then another (though it seemed to stop at that).

--

AB: What are you doing this weekend?

I glanced at Andy. He rarely messaged me during meetings; he was typically too immersed in work, but the staff meeting had devolved into whether ketchup should be drizzled over fries, or left on the side.

I’ve got some stuff to do.

AB: Stuff you can put off?

Maybe. Why?

Andy’s eyes narrowed at me playfully.

AB: Can you clear your schedule, yes or no.

What are you planning?

AB: Yes or no. I leaned back in my seat, eyeing the chat window before I minimized it, opening my email and pretending to skim on as I considered the question. I had loosely made plans with a friend of mine, but we hadn’t set anything in stone; I needed to do some laundry, but besides that and maybe a Breaking Bad marathon, I didn’t have any pressing business. I glanced up at Andy, knowing he was still watching me, before I opened the chat window.

Yes.

--

Andy wouldn’t give me any hints or clues about what he had up his sleeve. He wouldn’t even come in when I invited him up that night. “What was the point in following me home, then?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest. He tipped his head to the side, amused at my irritation as he kept his distance, hands tucked in his pockets as he leaned against his car. “To tell you to be ready to go at one tomorrow afternoon,” He said. “Could’ve told me that over the phone.” He quirked a brow. “And because I feel like I never get to see you anymore. I mean outside the office, and besides...You know.” I averted my eyes, shifting from foot to foot. There was some truth in that. When Andy and I had had our disagreement, I hadn’t been ready to own up to the feelings I had for him - I still wasn’t, especially not to him. Before we’d fought, I’d gotten used to spending my weekends curled up in bed with him, or hanging out on his couch, ribbing him for the boxes left unpacked. We’d order takeout, or I’d talk him into letting me poke around in his fridge, making do with what he had there for dinner before we wound up back in bed. It felt sweet, domestic. It was one of the reasons I had felt so fucked up when we finally talked. What we had worked better now - I’d un-planted the mental flag I’d once staked at Andy’s apartment, on Andy, with that stupid, possessive, vicious little voice in me that whispered, “mine,” when I looked at him. Spending less time with him took the sting out of the truth: the relationship Andy and I had was sexual, full-stop. “We’ve both been busy,” I pointed out, lifting my head again to meet his eye. Andy didn’t say anything to that, just pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out to me. When I didn’t take it right away, he asked, “What, you think I’m going to bite?” I rolled my eyes. “No, I’ve seen your face pre-bite. This face is much more calm,” I waved my own hand in the direction of his face before taking hold of his. Andy smiled, pulling me closer. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I felt myself relax a bit. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He said. I sighed, nodding. “Alright,” I agreed, looking up at Andy, “Are you coming to pick me up?” His eyes glinted mischievously, and I groaned. “Come on, you can’t even tell me that?” I whined. Andy leaned in, giving me a soft, teasing kiss. His tongue skimmed over my lower lip, then his teeth. He leaned away before I could chase the feeling. I groaned, closing my eyes. “... I deeply dislike you right now,” I sighed. Andy laughed, giving me another quick peck. “One o’clock. Don’t be late,” he said as he let go of me.

--

It felt like it took me ages to fall asleep. I couldn’t fathom what Andy was even planning. When I woke up the next morning, I had a text.

Sir🖤     Good morning, princess

I was glad he wasn’t there; every time Andy started in with a new term of endearment, it threw me at first. I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks and a warmth spreading through me. I read it over a couple more times, imagining how he’d say it - as a murmur, or a moan, or a growl. -Good morning, sir

Sir🖤     Pack an overnight bag. What time are you gonna be ready by?

A bag? I had at least one outfit’s worth of clothing at his place.

-One o’clock

Sir🖤     Good girl

I squeezed my thighs together, groaning in frustration. This wasn’t making me any less impatient for the day ahead. 

--

I dressed casually; Andy hadn’t given me any indication that we’d be doing anything outlandish or fancy, so I figured casual was a safe middle. I had gotten a text at 12:58 that the car was downstairs. I had assumed he’d meant his - with him in it. I was wrong. There was hired car waiting for me. The driver introduced himself as Joey as he took my bag from me, setting it in the trunk. “You’re not allowed to tell me where we’re going, are you?” I asked as I go into the car. He smiled a little, shaking his head. “I’ve been told it’s a surprise.” I leaned back in the seat, pulling my phone out.

-What are you up to? Sir🖤     Just relax, baby

I shook my head, narrowing my eyes at the phone. ‘Relax’. Like that was so easy.

-- Our first stop was a lingerie boutique. I was told we had half an hour before I got out of the car. I’d been there before with Andy - it had been a pretty quick trip, as we’d both wanted to get back to his apartment as quickly as possible. I flashed the salesgirl a smile as I began to look around. I fingered a few price tags, thoughtful. I found myself looking for things with Andy in mind. I usually didn’t - I focused on what made me feel hot - but I also knew from experience that when Andy was feeling impatient, he tended to get a bit hurried and rough, and was more likely to rip something off of me than to try and get it off the right way.

I picked out two sets - one white and one black. The white bra underwire framing, with no fabric anywhere else but a band than stretched across the nipples; the matching underwear were equally sparse - thick elastic bands to hold up the lace that covered what needed to be covered. The black set had a similar underwire cut, but there was a vertical black band to cover the nipples, as well as a floral crochet pattern that decorated the cup; the matching underwear was black mesh, high-waisted and cheeky. I knew we’d both love how my ass looked in them. I headed over to the counter to pay and when I passed the salesgirl my card, she frowned at it. “Something the matter?” I asked. “Oh! No, the opposite. It’s already taken care of,” She passed my card back to me before she turned, rooting around for something on her station. She produced a small handwritten card, passing it to me before she turned away to bag my order. I looked down at the card, reading Andy’s message, Can’t wait to see what you picked, sweetheart. Get back in the car for your next surprise.  I smiled down at the card, unable to help the giddiness I felt. It was like a treasure-hunt where I didn’t actually need to do any hunting. I thanked the salesgirl before heading back out to the car.

--

-Thank you, sir Sir🖤     You’re welcome, princess

-- The next stop was a clothing boutique. Joey mentioned that I had another half hour, and I thanked him. I was a little irked, though. Half an hour did not feel like enough. -I’m gonna need a tiny hint about what we’re doing

-Please, sir?

Sir🖤     Dinner.

And that was all I got. I raised a brow. Dinner. Well, if he was going to all this trouble, it was safe to assume he wasn’t going to just take me to grab takeout and then back to his. Us going out somewhere like that would be...New. I looked over the dresses, keeping the lingerie I��d just bought in mind. The black set would be easier to pair with something. I grabbed a few dresses that caught my eye right off the bat and tried them on. I settled on a low-cut, burgundy dress that hugged my body and had a hemline that stopped just above my knees. I figured I had finished with a few minutes to spare, but when I reached the cashier and handed over my card, the sales attendant looked dubious and said, “Mr. Barber asked me to tell you not to forget shoes and a purse.” So I wouldn’t be heading back to my apartment? I grabbed a pair of gold heels and a matching clutch, texting Andy as the sales attendant bagged the purchase. -How’d you know I’d forget?

Sir🖤     Just a hunch, sweetheart. You happy with your pick? -Yes, sir

Sir🖤     Good

-Am I heading to see you now?

Sir🖤     Not yet. Get in the car

I took the bag from the sales attendant with thanks and did as I was told.

-- When Joey pulled up in front of a spa, I was confused. “Um... You’re sure we’re at the right place?” I asked when he opened the door for me. “Positive,” He smiled. I thanked him before I headed inside. I gave my name and the receptionist smiled, informed me that I was right on time, and that my esthetician would be with me shortly. I sat in the reception area, pulling my phone out. I glanced at the ‘No Cellphones Beyond This Point’ sign and hurried to text Andy.

-You’re spoiling me.

Sir🖤     You deserve to be spoiled, princess

-I have to shut my phone off when I go in

Sir🖤     I know

-I like being able to talk to you :(

Sir🖤     You’ll get to talk to me later

I looked up as my name was called at I stood, still texting.

-I’m heading in now.

Sir🖤     Have a good time, princess

--

I had never been so relaxed in my life. Andy had pre-arranged for me to have a Swedish massage, a body polish, a manicure and pedicure, and for my hair and makeup to be done. I spent the entire time almost in a daze. There were moments when I selfishly wanted Andy to be there with me, but I pushed those thoughts away in favor of happier ones - how nice tonight was going to be, how good I felt... How much I liked Andy.

--

Joey drove me to a hotel a couple of towns over. I had no idea where we were going; Andy hadn’t answered my text asking when I got to see him once I got out of the spa. He helped me out of the car, getting my bags for me. When I went to tip him, he waved me off saying, “Mr. Barber’s got it.” There was a chilled bottle of champagne waiting for me in the hotel room when I got inside, and a handwritten note from Andy on the bedside table.

I’ll pick you up at 6:30, princess                                               -Andy

I smiled, putting the note back down where I’d found it. I opened the champagne, pouring myself a glass and setting it down beside the note. I took a picture of the two, texting it to Andy and adding Wish you were here. x

Sir🖤     Soon

-Can’t you come by and have some fun before dinner?

Sir🖤     Don’t be a tease

-Then can I have some fun before dinner?

Sir🖤     Don’t be a brat

I pouted, picking up the glass of champagne and taking a sip. When I didn’t answer his text, I got another one.

Sir🖤     Don’t touch yourself. Promise me. -I wanna

Sir🖤     I know you do. I want to, too, but we’re gonna wait. I’m gonna take care of you tonight. Understand?

-Yes, sir.

Sir🖤     Good girl

--

I didn’t know why I was so damn nervous. This wasn’t a blind date, it was Andy. But there I was, standing in the middle of the hotel room with paper towels folded in half and tucked under my arm pits to stop the stress sweat. I jumped at the knock on the door. I pulled the paper towels out from under my armpits, tossing it away and doing a quick double-check to make sure there were no bits stuck or left behind before I walked over to the door. I smoothed the fabric of the dress down before I opened the door. He looked good - he always looked good - in a slate grey button down and a pair of black slacks. “Damn,” I commented, looking him over. He laughed, cupping my cheek. “I was about to say the same about you,” He murmured before he leaned in, kissing me gently. I smiled, resting my hands on his chest. That smile quickly turned to a pout when he leaned away. “None of that, sweetheart, we don’t wanna be late,” He said, tapping the tip of my nose with his finger, “Grab your bag and let’s go.” As soon as I’d made sure I had my phone, room key, wallet, and lipstick, I met Andy at the door. He took hold of my hand, intertwining our fingers as we walked down the hall. I had the immediate urge to pull my hand away from his, but pushed it down. We weren’t in our town, where it was highly likely anyone could see us. No one around here knew us.

--

Dinner was at an Italian bistro a couple of blocks away. It was a quiet spot; Andy got us a table in the corner, where we could play footsie, hold hands, sneak the occasional kiss. It felt foreign to me, but definitely not unwelcome in any way. Even when we weren’t being touchy, things with Andy just felt comfortable. We could talk about work, sure, but that wasn’t all we had to talk about. It felt a little bit more like it had when my burgeoning crush on him had yet to be a fling, when we would still eat lunch together on a regular basis. It felt domestic and romantic and sweet. I ached for that.

-- I was on him the second we got back to the hotel room. “Slow down,” Andy laughed. I didn’t even care that he was laughing at me; I didn’t look away from where my freshly manicured, carnation pink nails were making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. “Hey,” He added when I didn’t stop, catching hold of my wrists to get my attention. I looked up at him, biting my lip, a bit bashful as I lowered my eyes back to his chest. “You’ve been taking care of my all day,” I said softly, “I wanna take care of you, too.” Andy’s eyes softened. “You know that just because I give you something doesn’t mean you have to give me something, right?” He asked, letting go of one of my wrists to push a lock of my hair behind my ear, “Sometimes I just wanna do things for you.” “This was more than just something, Andy, today was so much, I just--...” I trailed off, closing my eyes. I didn’t trust my words right now. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to his neck, then another, then another. I pressed my released hand to his chest, sliding it down over the skin I’d exposed and slipping it into his shirt. “Let me,” I begged, “Please.” I could feel Andy hesitate before he let go of my other wrist. I leaned up, brushing my lips against his a few times and drawing away before he could press in for a kiss. His hands settled on my hips, squeezing whenever I drew away, frustrated. I smiled as looked up at him. I hooked my fingers in his belt loops, pulling him further into the room. I nudged him to sit on the bed, watching as he went down. I reached behind myself, unzipping my dress and pulling it up over my head. I watched Andy’s eyes wander my body as I tossed it aside. I felt a swell of self-satisfaction as Andy’s lips parted, speechless at the sight of me. His hands came up to skim over the outside of my thighs as I stepped closer, resting my hands on his shoulders as I straddled his lap. “Do you like it?” I teased. Andy’s eyes lifted from my chest to my face as he slid his hands up to cup the swell of my ass. “You look beautiful.” I dipped my head, hiding my flushing face in his neck and peppering kisses along the skin there as he squeezed my ass. I pressed back against his hands before I pressed down against his hardening dick, gently rolling my hips. I felt Andy’s lips skim over my shoulder tenderly, a hand slipping up my side to slid under the bra’s strap, thumbing over the skin. It slid back down then, settling on my rib cage and gently pushing me back. I sighed as he kissed over my collarbones, mouthing a hot, wet line down to my breasts. His tongue traced along the skimpy floral pattern, teasing the exposed skin. I slid a hand into his hair, lightly scratching my nails along his scalp as he lapped at me, tongue lapping over the fabric covering my nipple before he moved on to the other breast. I whined, pressing my breast against Andy’s mouth as he gave it the same teasing treatment.

When I couldn’t take it anymore I tightened my hold on Andy’s hair, pulling him up for a kiss. He groaned into it, tightening his grip on me.

“Careful, princess,” he growled. I squirmed at the tone, unable to ignore the throbbing between my legs as I ground down against him harder. “Sorry, sir,” I breathed. I dropped a light kiss to his lips, then another, and another as I undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Once I’d undone them all, I reached up, pushing it away. He let go of me for a moment, pulling it off and tossing it atop my dress.

I climbed out of his lap before he could reach for me again. I felt him watching me as I got down on my knees. I slid my hands up his thighs, taking my time as I undid his pants. I saw his hand in my periphery. I figured he was going to slide his hand into my hair, but he cupped my cheek, tipping my face up to look at him. When he didn’t say anything, I turned my head, pressing a kiss to his palm. He smiled, trailing his thumb over my lips. I leaned out of his touch to take him into my mouth. Andy hummed low in his throat as I swirled my tongue around the head. I didn’t take anymore of him into my mouth, just trailed my nails up and down over his shaft. I did this a couple more times, then flicked my tongue over the slit. I leaned back, letting the head go and flicking my tongue over it once more before I leaned down, kissing along the underside. I started with gentle pecks at the head, then increased the pressure as I moved down, adding my tongue. Andy’s hand slid into my hair as I reached the base, and I tipped my head to peer up at him from under my lashes. He was watching me with this unguarded lust, licking his lips as my tongue flicked out before I pressed another wet kiss to his dick. I trailed the kisses back up, getting sloppier as I got closer to the head. I kept my eyes on his as I took him back into my mouth, hand working over what I didn’t take into my mouth. “Feels so good, princess,” he breathed as I swirled my tongue around his head. I moaned around him, clenching my thighs as his grip tightened in my hair. I pulled off of him, hand still working over his shaft. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” I murmured. “Yeah? You’ve been thinking about getting on your knees for me?” Andy asked. I nodded. I didn’t know why the admission made me feel so open and dirty. “What else have you been thinking about?” He asked. I leaned down sucking a kiss against the side of his dick before answering, “I’ve been thinking about you fucking me,” I murmured, “Just thinking about you gets me so fucking wet sometimes-- It was so hard not to touch myself earlier, I wanted to so bad--” “But you didn’t, right?” Andy gave me a sharp look and I shook my head quickly. “I didn’t, I promise,” I pouted. That look melted and he leaned down, catching my lips in a heated kiss. “I believe you, baby,” He murmured, “I know you’re a good girl for me.” I nodded, leaning up for another quick kiss as I murmured, “Yours.” Andy’s face changed after I said that. It was like something overtook him, something hungry and frantic. He hauled me up, back into his lap. I gasped against his mouth as he kissed me greedily. I could feel his dick pressing against my clit through the mesh of my panties. “Please,” I mumbled, pressing down against him harder. He reached down, slipping his hand into my underwear and pressing a finger into me. I sighed into his mouth, working my hips against his hand. He added a second finger, then a third in quick succession, working me open faster than he had before. I leaned away from him, reaching under one of the pillows where I had stashed a condom earlier. Andy lightened for a moment, turning and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Someone’s prepared,” he teased. “I need you in me,” I whined, not in the mood to be teased anymore. I rolled the condom onto him, stroking him a couple of times once it was on. Andy slid his fingers out, slapping my clit once before he pulled his hand out of my underwear. I keened, hips bucking at the pleasure that chased the sting. Andy pulled the seat of my underwear aside. “Go on, sweetheart,” He murmured, “Take what you want.” I rested my forehead against Andy’s, closing my eyes. “Look at me,” he ordered. I opened my eyes, watching him as I took him in. I didn’t bother trying to cover up the desperate little sighs and moans that fell out of my mouth; now and again my eyes would start to drift shut from the feeling and he’d squeeze my thigh, reminding me. I kept my eyes on his as I settled in his lap. “Feels so big, Andy,” I murmured, kissing him gently as I began to move. “Yeah?” He breathed. I smiled, watching a flush spread over his cheeks. I felt his hands on my hips, even as I took control of the pace. I nodded. “Mhm,” I murmured, “You feel so good-- You always feel so good.” I leaned in, biting at the hinge of his jaw. "I‘ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” I murmured, “Never liked being anyone’s the way I like being yours.” Andy groaned lowly, arms wrapping around me to still me. His hips drove into me in quick, sharp thrusts. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, moaning as he fucked me. I closed my eyes, pressing my face into his shoulder and meeting his thrusts as best I could. “Fuck-- Andy,” I warned, feeling myself growing close. Andy turned his head, catching my mouth with his. “Cum,” He murmured, “Cum on my cock, princess, I wanna feel you tighten up on me-- Fuck that’s it--” I threw my head back as I came, gasping his name as his thrusts quickened. He drew me into his chest so I didn’t tumble off of his lap and I slouched against him, flushed and panting. He nuzzled into my hair, gently laying us both on the bed. I curled up against his chest, closing my eyes for a few moments. I felt his hand drift over my back in slow, soothing circles. I whined when he got up, but let him go. I didn’t open my eyes as I felt Andy take hold of my ankle, undoing the strap of one shoe and removing it before removing the other. He gently peeled my underwear off next. I lifted my hips to help him, settling down again once they were off. “Lean up just a little for me, baby,” Andy’s voice was soft in my ear. I did as I was told, propping myself up on my elbows as Andy reached around, unclasping my bra. I sighed as he eased it off my shoulders, settling back down onto the bed. Andy chuckled, pressing a kiss where one of the straps had been. “C’mere,” He laughed softly. I opened my eyes, watching him settle by the headboard. I pushed myself onto my hands and knees, crawling up the bed to join him and climbing under the covers. I curled into Andy’s side as he pulled me in, wrapping my arm around him and sliding a leg between his. I heard him murmur, “Sweet dreams, baby,” before I drifted off.