#spoiler alert it's what I watched for day 22

[animusrox]

I love it when a horror movie can still make me do this

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

She NEVER disappoints!! MAUREEN CALLAHAN: "I demanded doddery Biden get off his sun lounger and go to Hawaii. But after THAT shambolic visit, I take it all back... The people of Maui have suffered enough."

Biden interrupted his Lake Tahoe vacation on Monday to fly five (5) hours to the island, and insist that the federal government was there for the islanders, despite the announcement of the paltry sum of $700 compensation for each household. 

By Maureen Callahan 22 Aug 2023

We all called for the President last week. Where was he, days after the apocalyptic Maui wildfires?

Actually, we knew where he was: On the beach at his shore home in Delaware. Prepping for his next vacation in Lake Tahoe. Issuing a reptilian ‘no comment’ when asked about the thousand-plus people missing and the Pompeii-like damage and what his plan was.

When was he going to visit?

For what it’s worth, I wrote an impassioned column imploring the president to go.

Now I take it all back. The people of Maui have suffered enough.

Joe Biden finally saw fit to interrupt his second vacation since the wildfires, to don his well-worn mantle as Empathizer-in-Chief, put his feet on the ground in Hawaii and comfort the survivors, 13 days after the fires.

It did not go well.

‘F**k you!’ was the prevailing greeting to his motorcade. Residents held unwelcoming signs: ‘It’s too late’. ‘Actions speak louder than words’.

Right they are.

We all called for the President last week. Where was he, days after the apocalyptic Maui wildfires? I wrote an impassioned column imploring the president to go. Now I take it all back. The people of Maui have suffered enough.

Joe Biden finally saw fit to interrupt his second vacation since the wildfires, to don his well-worn mantle as Empathizer-in-Chief and comfort the survivors, 13 days after the fires. It did not go well. ‘F**k you!’ was the prevailing greeting to his motorcade.

Yet Joe Biden was not humbled. Joe Biden doesn’t know shame. Instead he gave a meandering speech invoking, yet again, his own tragedies, dosed as usual with a soupçon of exaggeration.

‘I don’t want to compare difficulties,’ he said. Spoiler alert: He compared difficulties.

Once upon a time, he and Jill had suffered a kitchen fire while he was off doing a glamorous TV spot on ‘Meet the Press’. He almost lost his classic Corvette! Parked at his waterfront house!

Would the people of Maui, living through the agonies of entire families burned to ashes in their homes, of a 14-year-old boy’s body discovered alone and clutching his dead dog, care to hear those details?

‘It was a sunny Sunday,’ Biden said — oh my God, is there no one in this White House who can keep this president on-message? — ‘and lightning struck at home on a little lake that’s outside of our home — not a lake, a big pond — and hit a wire and came up underneath our home into our heating ducts, the air conditioning ducts.

‘To make a long story short, I almost lost my wife, my ’67 Corvette, and my cat. But all kidding aside’ — there’s a joke in here? — ‘I watched the firefighters, the way they responded… they ran into flames to save my wife and save my family… sometimes smoke is so thick… it was that thick inside the home.’

Not so, said the firefighters who responded. The Biden kitchen fire, according to the Cranston Heights Fire Company, was ‘insignificant’ and put out in just 20 minutes.

But hey — Joe Biden never lets facts get in the way of a good story. And no one’s suffering can ever compare to his own.

His speech to the people of Maui was disgusting. It was all about him. Note this line: 'I give you my word, as a Biden.'

As a Biden? How about as President of the United States?

He had such a low bar to clear: Get on the ground, shake hands and offer hugs, look survivors in the eye and listen to their stories, and offer a clear plan of action.

All he had to do was deliver a brief, locked-and-loaded speech and cede the stage to local heroes — take a page from George W. Bush’s promise on the World Trade Center pile after 9/11.

But he can’t do it. Joe Biden is fundamentally, constitutionally incapable of allowing others their grief. He literally claimed that he had ‘a similar experience’ to the Maui survivors.

Protestors greet Biden with 'f**k you' as he arrives in Maui

He had such a low bar to clear: Get on the ground, shake hands, offer hugs - and a clear plan of action. But he can’t do it. Joe Biden is fundamentally, constitutionally incapable of allowing others their grief. (Pictured: Flames devastate Lahaina, Hawaii, earlier this month).

‘By the way,’ he continued, ‘for 36 years I was listed as the poorest man in Congress, so I didn’t get there based on my income.’

Can you believe that was part of his speech to the survivors? How is it germane? Remotely relevant? Does Biden really want to invoke his family’s suspicious riches?

To quote Barack Obama: ‘Don’t underestimate Joe’s ability to f**k things up.’

Biden went on to perseverate over the loss of his first wife and infant daughter in a car crash — a tragedy he blamed on the other driver, who Biden infamously falsely accused of being drunk.

‘So, I have a little bit of sense of what it’s like.’

No, Mr. President, you do not.

It was the same when he met with Gold Star families whose loved ones died in his botched Afghanistan withdrawal, repeatedly invoking his late son Beau, who he often claims died in Iraq. (Beau died of a brain tumor.)

It was the same when he was caught checking his watch every single time one of those 13 flag-draped caskets were loaded off military planes at Dover.

‘The most disrespectful thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Darin Hoover, father of fallen Marine Staff Sgt. Taylor Hoover. ‘They would release the salute and he looked down at his watch on every last one. All 13, he looked down at his watch.’

So now I know: Joe Biden should have stayed away from Maui. He should have sent thoughts and prayers and far more than a $700 check to each surviving family. He should have begged Barack Obama or another esteemed Hawaiian to go.

The Rock would have done better. Jason Momoa. Hell, anyone but tone-deaf, crusty old Joe.

Looking at a canine rescue and recovery dog with protective paw gear, Biden ‘joked’ to the press: ‘You guys catch the boots out here? That’s some hot ground, man.’

Ugh, that ‘man’. Joe’s such a cool cat, don’t you know, just one of us. Amtrak Joe. Watch out: He might beat you up in the parking lot after fourth period. Remember ‘CornPop’? The gang leader with a razor blade at the community pool back in 1962? The 'bad dude' Joe Biden beat back with a 6ft-long chain?

Joe Biden, pathological fabulist, national embarrassment.

He should have stayed away from Maui. He should have sent thoughts and prayers and far more than a $700 check to each surviving family. He should have begged Barack Obama or another esteemed Hawaiian to go. The Rock would have done better. Hell, anyone but tone-deaf, crusty old Joe. (Pictured: Joe and Jill on the beach in Delaware earlier this month).

Those canines, by the way, have only been able to work in short shifts because the ground in Lahaina remains sizzling hot. That’s cause for alarm, not a comedy bit.

How about that climate crisis, Mr. President?

Speaking of — please, for the love of all that is sacred, stay away from Palm Springs and Los Angeles and any future disaster areas in general. The American people don’t need to see their doddering, likely demented president wandering away from a podium, mouth slack and eyes vacant, needing to be guided, as we witnessed on Monday.

This sad showing is a microcosm of the Biden presidency: No one’s at the wheel. The whole world can see it. Is this who the Dems really want to prop up in 2024?

And where’s Jill Biden in all of this? Most wives would gently take their husband by the hand and say: ‘Time’s up. You did your best, but it’s time to leave.’

Most wives would want to protect what’s left of their husband’s dignity. Legacy.

Not so for the Bidens, now safely ensconced in an $18 million vacation home, out of sight.

Awkward moment gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern as Hawaii Democrat tries to speak to him minutes after giving tone-deaf speech to victims of Maui's killer wildfires

Gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern in Hawaii

By David AverreUpdated 07:30 EDT 22 Aug 2023

Biden had a cringeworthy moment with Democrat Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz

President Joe Biden compounded his disastrous trip to Hawaii in the wake of devastating wildfires with yet another gaffe, blatantly ignoring a Democrat senator before gormlessly shuffling off at the end of an uninspiring speech yesterday.

The 80-year-old had a particularly awkward moment with Democratic Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz when, at the conclusion of a press conference, Schatz offered him a sip of water.

Biden completely blanked the senator and turned his back on him. He then began shuffling off, mouth hanging open and gazing listlessly into the crowd, while his wife Jill and Hawaii Governor Josh Green ushered him away from the lectern.

Furious Hawaiians had already greeted the President with ire, shouting 'f*** you' at his motorcade and brandishing signs telling him to go home as the 80-year-old and his wife toured the island of Maui 13 days after the inferno broke out.

The awkward scene came shortly after Biden had delivered a meandering, tone-deaf speech in which he compared the wildfires - which have killed at least 114 people and left 850 missing - to his experience of a small kitchen fire.

Gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern after speech

Biden had a particularly awkward moment with Democratic Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz when, a t the conclusion of a press conference, Schatz offered a sip of water to Biden and gestured beside the lectern at a bottle of water

The President completely blanked the senator and turned his back on him. He then began shuffling off

His wife Jill and Hawaii Governor Josh Green ushered him away from the lectern

President Biden told Maui the nation 'grieves with you' in his first visit to the island since wildfires ravaged the city of Lahaina and the surrounding community

Biden and first lady Jill Biden look at a burned car with Hawaii Gov. Josh Green and his wife Jaime Green as they visit areas devastated by the Maui wildfires

People watch as the motorcade carrying President Joe Biden to visit areas devastated by the Maui wildfires passes by. One local gives the president a thumbs down

Furious Maui residents slam Biden before tour of Lahaina

Biden rental at Tom Steyer's $18MILLION home may breach housing code

Biden is back in Lake Tahoe mansion after his awkward Hawaii visit

The President and his wife were not greeted warmly by residents of Hawaii yesterday.

As their motorcade drove through Maui, several people lined the streets waving Trump 2024 flags and shouting obscenities at the passing cars.

One person brandished a sign contrasting the money spent on Ukraine with the assistance sent to Hawaii - calculating that each Ukrainian has received over $1,700 since the war broke out in February 2022.

Meanwhile, the White House announced that each affected household in Hawaii will receive $700 - a sum many islanders considered insulting.

Locals' fury mounted on Sunday when Biden, who was asked about the fires as he relaxed on a Delaware beach, simply replied: 'No comment.' 🤡

And last week, he appeared to forget the name of Maui, repeatedly referring to fires blazing on 'the Big Island'.

Biden interrupted his Lake Tahoe vacation on Monday to fly five hours to the island, and insist that the federal government was there for the islanders, despite the announcement of the paltry sum of compensation for each household. 

Even Democrats were demanding to know why the federal aid had been slow to arrive and so meagre, joining their Republican colleagues in questioning Biden's delay in arriving in Maui.

The death toll in Maui has topped 114, with some 850 people still missing feared dead.

But Biden waited 13 days since the outbreak of the fires to visit the island. 

Biden embraced with Hawaii Gov. Josh Green

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Post-Coital Cuddles Masterlist

10,000 emerald pools (ao3) - kay_okay

Summary: “Want you,” he whispers, pressed secretive against Phil’s tongue. “Want you, want you.”

Phil smiles into their kiss, tightens the grip of his thighs. “You have me.”

and they were (not) roommates (ao3) - dakogutin

Summary: dan wakes up in the hufflepuff dorms

cold fingers (ao3) - itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualweeb)

Summary: it all starts because dan stole the blankets

cross your fingers, here we go (ao3) - goldfishsunglasses

Summary: Dan can’t sleep, so he convinces Phil to come see him in the middle of the night, but Phil refuses to spend the night in his much too small uni room. Once they’re back at Phil’s, the late hour causes him to voice some feelings of doubt about their future, but Dan assures him those are silly, and that what they have is strong enough to last.

Do You Know How in Love With You I Am (Please Notice) (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan works at a small paper company, but the brightside to this boring career is that his best friend Phil is just a few feet away at reception. The downside to this is that he's hopelessly, irrevocably in love with said best friend. Oh, and Phil is engaged, too.

in our light of day (ao3) - nqkedbooths

Summary: Post-coital cuddles and Phil is a goner.

It's so good to be home (ao3) - keeplovinanyway

Summary: Phil is so, so happy to be home after tour. He is. It's so nice to be back in his own flat, with privacy and his boyfriend and all the things he likes. He is not stressed that there's still work to do. Of course not.

He is just so happy to be home.

Keeping Warm (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan is always cold, especially when their car breaks down in the middle of winter.

Netflix and Phil (ao3) - Wrockstargirl

Summary: It was just supposed to be watching Netflix and hanging out, but it turned into so much more.

Only Fools Fall (ao3) - sinking_wthatship

Summary: Basically just awkward strangers Dan and Phil with lots of sexual tension but also emotional connection (sort of). SPOILER ALERT There is smut. And Tooth-rotting fluff. Lots of it.

Phil Tries New Things (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Phil has never bottomed before, and he wants to but he's nervous about it. Good thing Dan's there to help him try new things.

Pumpkin Spice (ao3) - ThoughtaThought

Summary: You remember how I left you on the verge of smut in Chapter 3 of Pumpkin Pride? Here ya go, here's that smut.

Winter 2009

Dan: 18

Phil: 22

Snarky Car Bang (ao3) - thatsmistertoyou

Summary: This is pretty self-explanatory: they fuck in a car and it’s hilarious.

Tangled Up (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: It was hard for Dan and Phil to get any time alone while on tour. They were constantly being rushed through meet and greets or shoved to another hotel.

Luckily they could sometimes sneak away to the back of the tour bus and get all tangled up with each other.

the maestro and his muse (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Phil is a professional artist. There are some things he has always wanted to try, and with a motto like Try New Things, it’s understandable that he’ll go through with many of them. Painting on living, breathing, naked human bodies is one of those things.

Unfortunately, he's chosen his good friend, muse, and crush Dan Howell as his subject. What could go wrong?

We need a really big bath (ao3) - evanegg

Summary: Dan just wants to cuddle with Phil in the bath, but the stupid hotel tub is too small. After a little bit of fun they finally get to have the cuddles they wanted.

[evelyne-am]

April 4, 2023

day 22.

Remember when I said that Sir didn’t say a single word after our run through. Even though it was real shit, he just told us to have a good weekend. But I knew in my heart as everyone else did, that there was more to that, and that we found out as soon as we entered in our fourth week. Sir has been in a horrible mood because he hais revealed that that Run broke his heart and now he wants to change everything again. This will be the 5th change, and the third draft. I don’t know who read this but our first draft was so different with multiple first persons, I second draft was one first person and three third person is describing it. Second draft also included switching the protagonist from different ages so somebody would play the young age and somebody would play older. in the third version I did have a small speaking role, the smallest one but I was playing it for the purpose of rehearsal for the past two weeks. But today it is announced that the Messyness of multiple roles and multiple dialogues is getting too much he is cutting it out to be simpler and and the multiple actors for one role is possibly going to be cut. Before the acting and casting things happen, though, Sir changes the entire choreography that we have been working all over the last couple of weeks but actually we were almost getting down. Remember the Burpee‘s thing that’s already gone don’t know if that’s good or bad I was kind of getting fond of it. But God damn do I love it when he changes things. I get to see how his mind works when he adds suctracts and move things around. The intro is now absolutely stunning and lovely and subtle and beautiful. Spoiler alert, the first person you will see on stage is me. As we are doing the entering sequence The director is reminding me without saying anything that there were issues raised when I opted in for the play. Two things were mentioned about me being able to be in the cast; number one my posture, I have absolutely horrible posture something that I’m so ashamed of. 2 number is my pronunciation because Bangla is not my first language, but having said that I have been singing this language my whole life, even though I don’t read and write so fluently I do know how to pronounce words on stage and so I think that part is not the issue. But Sir asked me if I am to be the first person the audience sees walking onto that stage if I can retain my straight posture for the duration of the entire opening sequence which is very long. I of course say yes, and I take it as a challenge to myself to make sure that every moment of the opening sequence anyone stares at me. In fact every moment of that play anyone stares at me they will not know that I am actually hunched in person. I am painfully aware that the new changes means that many of us will be cut from our speaking scenes. The two young girls who are playing the young girl roles are not doing very well today, one of them burst of tears when Sir was point-blank asking her to commit. The other one passed into tears when she was unable to do something that he was repeatedly asking her to do. The problem with that is that Tears are a very natural reaction to biologically female beings however in a work situation it really is not acceptable. So the director was not being able to accept it, but these young girls for the lack of a better world I think this generation, is an able to take Harher commands. What happened was due to the two of them messing up, sir I got angry and said the play will be done by one person per character only. That kind of implies that my small part is also given to the protagonist who will do the play like a monologue. But truthfully as sad as I was to have that in the inevitable reality, watching him change the play so absolutely beautifully is even more thrilling than being sad about me not making a big theatrical debut.

Despite my wondrous ways of looking at this production, some of the girls were feeling very disheartened because the director was really unhappy with the way things are fairing so vibe at rehearsal is very tense right now. A part of me realises that because I have a small role I don’t have a lot of feedback, so maybe I don’t understand what they are going through, but another part of me thinks that This is what I do best, not take work things personally not take fame and fortune personally but value the art value the talent value the creation and value the absolute magic of being able to do something like this. And I feel really blessed, maybe it is because I have achieved other things that another’s eyes have deemed successful, but I don’t feel anything I’ve done is achievement worthy yet I am yet to set my actual stage. I’m still learning. And I think that’s why I can enjoy this life in this career because I know that I’m not at my peak. Wrote my first poem since I started and shared it with M, she seems to really like her. There we are so different we do share that similar passion to give up everything for work. And so we are becoming closer.

Ps this is my front door now.

[coolgirl32]

Being the mother of Nolan from invincible would include Ps I'm using my OC as Nolan's mom so please enjoy also if you have any requests please tell me about them so I can write about it thank you and enjoy also spoilers alert if you haven't watched any of the new episodes of the new season

I think when Jacqulyn was like 21 years old and she was Earth's mightiest hero because she has super powers that protect the Earth for many years but she had to go see other planets to save them but while she was in space she saw viltrum and she caught Nolan's father's eye and he introduced himself to her (also at that time before Nolan was born his dad was 22 years old) at first

Jacqulyn was a bit hesitant towards argall but in time she grew to love him and he grew to love her he didn't see her as a pet because he saw that she was really strong and what her potential was so of course they got married and 9 months later Nolan was born and right after Nolan was born there was a virus that could kill a viltramite but nolan was half earthling like his mom so argall decided that to save his family he told Jacqulyn to take Nolan somewhere safe where she and Nolan could be safe from the virus and it was a good thing too because a few years later Nolan went through the proper age to become a soldier so he took his mom to Earth where she told him all about Earth and and all the greatest things to expect there Nolan didn't understand anything about Earth but he wanted to make his mom happy so at their arrival he saved a woman named Debbie. Years later Debbie and Nolan both got married and had a son named Mark and as the years went by Mark eventually got his superpowers at the right age of 17 Nolan Debbie and Jacqulyn we're very happy for mark a few months went by and it's been very depressing Nolan betrayed Earth and not only Earth but also the ones he loved too like his son his wife and his mother so of course Mark told his grandma and his mom that he has to kill some humans to get the invasion ready for the viltramites to invade Earth they were both horrified at what they heard from Mark but of course Jacqulyn knew this day would come so she created a force field around the Earth like a huge hamster ball that would be so sturdy that not even the viltramites could penetrate it of course everyone got ready for the invasion and prepared for it Mark and his grandmother both saved Nolan from being executed so after Earth was saved and the viltramites never return to Earth ever again but of course some stayed on Earth just to know what Earth is really like and everything turned out all right at the end

I'm sorry if this turned out to be long but I also think that Jacqulyn would be a really awesome grandmother and a really awesome mother-in-law but what do all of you think anyway have a wonderful day

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: Coming Out To You

Date video was published: 06/30/2019 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 398

And Phil! Dropping this on the very last day of pride month with no warning. It was such a surprise at the time for Phil to make this video; the general thought was that the most Phil would likely ever talk about his sexuality would be this tweet in response to Dan’s video. And now he’s so open about it!

0:01 - starting off with the running vase gag and “low-key,” just like he said he would in that tweet

0:08 - I love this opening so much. also if you didn’t know Phil dyed his hair by this point...how

0:18 - dropping that more casually than the dyed hair thing, which I’m sure was the point

0:22 - and the fireworks effect too. he’s incorporating all his usual things

0:29 - god I love Phil so much. I wonder when he thought of this bit. King of comedy. (And I wonder when he decided he was going to make a coming out video in general...if he had planned it earlier while Dan was also planning his, or if he just decided to after Dan posted his video.)

0:49 - the “just feel like you’re not alone” point...he cares about his audience so much

0:58 - Phil laughing at himself a bit in the intro to this

1:13 - the record scratch noise is perfect there! also, the contrast of this to Dan’s story about realizing he liked a guy for the first time...Phil is a very visual person

1:22 - oh Phil

1:29 - and air-quotes! they are never the same twice

1:33 - the “spoiler alert...I did not” is great

1:41 - this is so unscripted and so Phil’s usual style, which I’m so glad he chose to stick with even for this

1:54 - whoever commented that Phil has Captain Holt energy...yes

2:21 - the feeling of missing out and not being able to tell anyone at the same time

2:31 - which he had used as brief stories for videos in the past...without this context of course

2:58 - the editing sound effects throughout this video are great 😂

3:29 - being able to get away from your hometown can definitely be so important

3:54 - I’m so glad that Phil had that safe space

4:04 - lol I’m pretty sure that didn’t even exist at the time. but also aww at that for Phil...not lame just nice 🥺

4:20 - I can’t imagine the dread of realizing what had just happened in that situation

4:49 - Phil picks good friends it seems

4:56 - the *cough* there. 😳 I think I don’t want to know what Phil’s parents might have walked in on

5:08 - I remember being surprised during the first watch of this that Phil had come out to so many people over the years

5:23 - kind of goes along with Dan’s “time changes everything” point

5:55 - more important points from Phil

6:05 - I kind of want more stories from Phil about ways he has had to slide that into various conversations over the years

6:39 - and there’s a bit of boundary drawing from Phil, though he did start talking about some more personal topics in the lead up to and after coming out

7:01 - “I’m gay, it’s great, I’m happy” is probably my favorite bit of this video

7:27 - and the “I think the future is bright" and this whole positive encouraging ending

I love Phil so much. This video is so casual and so very him, but so important. Also the thumbnail with the arrow pointing at him that just says “GAY” is perfect. And the public support from Dan, just like Phil supported Dan’s video. Also the photo he shared the next day is beautiful and still one of my favorite photos of him.

[auliasbookcorner]

Review: Babel, or The Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution by RF Kuang

Book 15 of 2022

Start Reading Time: 22 September 2022

Finish reading Time: 7 October 2022

Page Count: 545 pages

TRIGGER WARNINGS: COLONIZATION, VIOLENCE, DEATH, BLOOD, MURDER, SUICIDE, RACISM, MISOGYNY

This is the spoiler-free part of the review. I will put up a spoiler alert before going into the review that contains spoilers.

Hello there! If you've been reading this blog for a while, you must have already know that I'm a die hard RF Kuang stan, since I seem to be unable to stop babbling (pun intended) on and on about The Poppy War (I'm serious, it seems that I mention TPW in every other book review in this blog). I mean, If there's anything you need to know about me, and if we're meeting for the very first time, I will tell you that:

I love books that make me cry,

RF Kuang is one of my favorite authors of all time, and

The Poppy War is the best trilogy ever written

My obsession with TPW is borderline concerning. I mean, I created a whole ass Spotify playlist for this trilogy, consisting of songs dedicated to each of TPW characters, I had daydreams about the TV series adaptation of it, who would play who, what the soundtracks and theme songs would be, etc. I'm telling you, it's kinda creepy how much I think of this book series, that's how obsessed I was with it, and still am.

I also have to mention that this trilogy is what kick-started my book review career. Because I started chronicling my reactions while reading the 1st book in this series with my Instagram stories. I have all of my breakdowns, highs and lows while reading The Poppy War captured and published on my IG stories, and now it's all been well documented in my IG stories' archive, and I am so glad for that. Because you very rarely get to really re-experience that special moment when you found something or someone so special that will stay with you for the rest of your life (I mean how many people have documented the exact moment they fell in love with the love of their lives? Well maybe the people who go to those reality dating shows, but even The Bachelors and all of its franchises only have so few lasting marriages). But I have those IG stories that have perfectly captured that special moment that I can now visit and relive whenever I want to. And from there, I've been making more book contents, which then turned into book reviews, and book ramblings, which then gave birth to this tumblr blog. And here we are now.

I mean, I have always been a book lover ever since I learned to read, I read all the time, and I feel like I have always been overly dramatic. But it took the amazing RF Kuang to ignite my will to publicize all of that to the internet and make it my whole ass personality in the internet, because TPW is just that freaking awesome AND I NEED EVERYONE TO BE AS OBSESSED WITH IT AS I AM. I have by now influenced a few people to read The Poppy War and got them to be obsessed with it and turned them into raging RF Kuang's stans like myself (you're welcome, guys 😉).

Having stated all of that, for me to say that this review will be unbiased, would be a big fucking lie. And I appreciate you and the time you're taking out of your day to read this review too much to lie to you about it.

I do have some criticisms about this book, but I started reading this book already knowing that I will like it, because it's RF Kuang's book, and it just checks all of the boxes in terms of the things I like to read about. I just simply can NOT make an unbiased review of Babel, when RF Kuang has impacted my life so much in the last 2 years, and I have been waiting for this book since the end of 2020, after I finished The Burning God. I had been digitally stalking RF Kuang, from which I first heard about this book. I saw every one of her Instagram posts, watched almost all of her Instagram lives, read her tweets, listened to every podcast episodes, watched every Youtube videos, and read every blog posts, articles and interviews she had ever been in and/or made herself. Every time she mentions any updates regarding this book before its release date, my anticipation grows bigger, because with every update she gives, the book seems to be getting better and better for me personally, like she just keeps hitting all the right spots for me.

I mean, she teased her readers with updates like: it's a dark academia book (oh my God, I'm obsessed with dark academia), but also a historical-fantasy book (fuck yeah, after TPW, I need more books of this genre from her), it's inspired by The Secret History by Donna Tartt which is also RF Kuang's favorite book (ARE YOU KIDDING ME, I enjoyed the fuck out of that book, even if I hate the ending, but I fucking love the whole dark academia vibes in it, this book is like the poster child of Dark Academia, and just imagine, a The Secret History-inspired historical-fantasy book written by THE RF Kuang??? At this point, my will to live if only just to be able to read this book went 📈📈📈), and finally when the cover design was published (WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT MASTERPIECE OF A COVER!! LOOK AT HOW FREAKING GORGEOUS IT IS!! LOOK AT ITTT!!!! GOOD GOD, I FELL IN LOVE WITH IT AT FIRST SIGHT, IT LITERALLY GAVE ME GOOSEBUMPS WHEN I FIRST SAW IT).

To say that I was so excited to read this book would be an understatement, as my expectation for it to be the next best thing, and my new obsession since the Poppy War (and Beartown trilogy and Stormlight Archive series and Mistborn trilogy, yes I'm obsessed with a lot of book series), continues to grow. But here's the thing with expectation, people say that it's just premeditated resentments, or that it often leads to disappointment. And so, I was also nervous and scared that Ms. Kuang will fail to deliver with this book what's gotten me so freaking hyped these last two years, and/or that she has lost that particular quality in her writing that has gotten me so in love with her works. I mean, I was sure that I would like it no matter what, but there was a little part of me that's scared that I would have to lie and convince myself into liking it, if the book turns out to be bad.

Now, having read this book, I can safely say, THE BOOK IS ACTUALLY SO FREAKING GOOD. RF Kuang has truly gotten better and better with each book she releases. I mean, DAMN, GIRL. I should have never doubted her. But then again, I have trust issues, so that might be why.

I didn't know what I was expecting this book to be like, but whatever it is, this book exceeded it all, and more. I'd forgotten what it feels like reading Rebecca's writing after 2 whole years without reading her books, but this book reminded me of how masterful Rebecca is of her craft and she had improved so much since The Burning God. I mean, the prose is just so freaking good (you'll see from the quotes I include in this review), the magic system is one of the most brilliant I have ever read so far, the thorough research she'd done is obvious, and she efficiently utilized the footnote feature of the book (which I absolutely love, it makes the whole dark academia vibe even more apparent). And what's more, she perfectly captures the ✨Dark Academia vibes✨ and she successfully transported me to 1830's Oxford, and got me to fall madly in love with the awesome foursome that is Robin, Ramy, Victoire and Letty but then broke my heart into million pieces in the latter chapters. Oh, also, let's not forget one of the main reasons why I love Rebecca's writing so freaking much: nobody, and I mean, NOBODY writes rage, angst and fury so raw and beautifully like Rebecca. That shit is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻.

Also, I have not yet read anything to represent my frustrations about racism quite like her writing, she just eloquently puts to words all of these frustrations and desperation and make it into something a lot of people can understand, relate to and sympathize with.

Once again, Rebecca tackles such a heavy, intense and important topic such as the one in this book, with such care and thoughtfulness that I'm sure the readers, like me, will be left deep in thoughts, to question and reevaluate all of the values they have ever held. I'm hopeful that this book will definitely spark important discussions regarding the impacts of colonialism in our education, and our languages, also regarding white privilege and racism in the academic sphere, among other important topics.

And once again, Ms. RF Kuang has given me a new obsession in life, new characters to daydream about and make a new Spotify playlist for, and for that I'm so grateful. My biggest complaint of this book is that it's a standalone book and it's only 545 pages long, and even though I tried to prolong the reading time to make it last longer, I still finished it in only 2 weeks' time, I mean, if you're gonna give us a standalone book this good, couldn't you at least pull a Brandon Sanderson and make it 1000+ pages at least, for God's sake but it's fine, whatever.

Nope, I lied, it is NOT okay. The truth is I WISH THERE WERE MORE OF THIS STORY TO READ, BECAUSE I NEED SO MUCH MORE OF IT. Just give me one more book about Babel and I will die happy. But, you know what, I'm glad that at least her 5th book, Yellowface, will soon be published too, so I don't have to wait so long to read more of her work. One simply does not NOT crave more of RF Kuang's books after having read any of her previous books, it has now become sort of an addiction for me. Even now, I'm still in a sort of book hangover from it. Other readers who had finished reading this book, please tell me how to move on from this book, because it has been a week and I can't even start to read a new book because my mind keeps lingering on Robin, Victoire, Letty, and Ramy (oh my God, Ramy, my dearest, most brilliantly clever and funny and charming Ramy 😭).

That's enough dramatic babbling from me, now let me give you a not so brief synopsis of this book.

In 1829, the plague that later became known as Asiatic Cholera came to Canton, China, and took many lives. A little boy watched his mother die in front of him, while he himself was helpless, unable to help his mother in any way because he also caught the sickness and is in critical condition. He's the only one left alive in his house. Just when he thought he's about to die, a mysterious man he didn't recognize came and kicked down the door to the boy's house and found him lying on the bed beside his mother's lifeless body. The boy thought the man came to reap his soul. But then, the man put a silver bar on the boy's bare chest, and spoke two words: Triacle (French)/Treacle (English). The bar then glows white, and there's an eerie sound from nowhere, like a singing or a ringing. The boy whined and curled to his side, the man told him to bear with it and to swallow what's in his mouth. The boy does as he's told, and says that it tasted so sweet. The man says that it's good and that it's working, and he puts the bar back into his pocket. Seconds later, the boy's breathing steadied, and he could see the man's face clearly. He's a white foreigner man whom the boy has never seen before.

The man has healed the boy with his silver bar and magic. The man asks if there's anyone else still alive, to which the boy says there's no one else, and the man asks if there's anything the boy can't leave behind. The boy wanted to take his mother's body with him, but the man said he couldn't take her body. So, the boy said his books, and the man took the books and the boy, and they left the boy's place.

The man informed the boy that he wants to take the boy as his ward, provides him with a comfortable life in England, and all he asks the boy to do in return is to focus on his study and to study hard, because eventually the boy will be studying languages in the Royal Institute of Translation, in Oxford, where the man teaches. The man is Professor Richard Lovell, an Oxford professor, teaching languages in Babel, with a particular interest in Mandarin. The boy agreed to his proposal, thinking he has no family left in Canton and a life in England seems so much better than living a lonely life as a street urchin in Canton.

Prof. Lovell told him to pick an English name since no one in England will be able to pronounce his Chinese name. Inspired by his favorite book and its author, the boy picks the name Robin Swift.

Robin is bilingual, fluent in English and Mandarin, and his Cantonese is passably good. The boy had received parcels of books written in English twice a year since he turned 4 years old, and an English woman named Miss Elizabeth Slate, whom the boy had called Miss Betty, had lived with his household for as long as he could remember, and she taught him how to read and speak in English. The boy realizes Prof. Lovell was the one who sent the books and hired Miss Betty, though he doesn't know why he did all of that. When the Professor tested him with a silver bar with two engravings on it: one in English and one in Chinese, Robin was able to make the silver bar hum and work its magic on him. He has passed Prof. Lovell's test, and that's why he wanted to take Robin as his ward.

In England, Robin was set up to study Latin with Mr. Felton and Greek with Mr. Chester almost immediately, so he could catch up with his peers. He's also set up to study Mandarin with Prof. Lovell. There's a bookshelf full of books, the kinds that Robin likes. When Prof. Lovell was away for weeks in Oxford, Robin went to London and traveled by himself and read everything, even things he didn't understand. He learns the origins of some words and rhyming components of some of the names and words, he even comes up with some of his own. Mrs. Piper, the housekeeper, cooks him so many delicious foods that he has never eaten before.

He's enjoying his new life in England. But one day, he'd lost track of time while reading the new adventure book that Prof. Lovel bought him, he didn't notice that Mr. Chester had been waiting for 1 hour for him. Prof. Lovell comes home to this and immediately confronts Robin who's startled. Robin was about to go see Mr. Chester when Lovell suddenly punches him on the side of the face, thrusting him down to the ground. The Professor then beats him on the side of his torso with the poker from the fireplace. Robin was too stunned to even cry, and Lovell said that it's good that he didn't cry when he got hit. Lovell threatens to send Robin back to Canton where he doesn't have any family, or know anyone, or have any money to support himself, and that he won't get the same opportunities he had in England, nor go to Oxford. Lovell made Robin choose, whether to study hard as they agreed that day back in Canton, so he can stay in England and go to Oxford, or go back to Canton where he'll live and die alone. Robin chooses to stay. This satisfies Lovell, and he tells Robin to go downstairs to begin his study with Mr. Chester that day. Robin does as he's told, while still reeling from the pain on his face and torso. The next day, Lovell acts as if nothing had happened.

One night, after Robin crashed one of Prof. Lovell's gatherings with some of his friends, one of them had remarked on how Robin looks more like Prof. Lovell than the previous one, which sparked confusion in Robin's mind. Does he really look like the Professor? He always knew that his hair and eye colors were a softer shade of brown than the indigo-black that the rest of his family have, but he never even thought that he might not be full-blooded Chinese. Is the Professor his biological father? But why didn't he claim him as his son, but as a ward instead? However, in the end, Robin decided to never confront the Professor about this, as he's too scared to lose his comfortable life in England and lose his chances to study in Oxford.

Finally, the day came when Robin finally went to Oxford as a proper student. While he's studying there, he will be living in a lodging located in Number 4, Magpie Lane. He said his awkward farewell to Prof. Lovell, and meets his first new friend, a charming young man named Ramiz Rafi Mirza, or Ramy for short. He's a Muslim and is from Calcutta, India, and just like Robin, he came to England as a ward of a rich English man. He had left the rest of his family back in Calcutta. Robin felt an immediate connection to Ramy as they have so many things in common. Robin really likes Ramy, and he realizes that he wants to impress Ramy, and Ramy seems to like him back, as he already lovingly gave Robin a nickname of "Birdie". Robin realizes he will make a life there with Ramy, living close to him, and he thinks it wouldn't be so bad.

Robin and Ramy gleefully explore Oxford together as the classes won't start until a few days later. The night before their first day of classes, Ramy left his important notebook in the Bodleian. Robin offered to get it himself, as Ramy almost got into a fight earlier when a group of drunk racist Oxford students confronted Ramy. Robin suggested Ramy go back to their lodgings ahead and he'll return there as soon as he'd retrieved Ramy's notebook. However, just when Robin was leaving the Bodleian after he found Ramy's notebook, in the middle of Holywell Street, he heard a voice furiously saying something in Mandarin, which attracted Robin's attention. Robin then found out the voice belongs to someone who looks almost identical to himself, and there are also two other people with the guy who looks like him. Robin finally realizes that they're actually thieves, as they were struggling with a trunk filled with silver bars, and they were running away and hiding from the constable, who's looking for those thieves. Robin's doppelgänger begged for him to help them and Robin put his hand on the silver bar and said "Wúxíng", which is the word that his doppelgänger has been trying desperately to say, and then "Invisible". Then, the four of them became invisible, and the constable couldn't see them and went to look somewhere else. Robin then threw the bar away and the four of them re-materialized back into the physical world. The three thieves left hurriedly after gathering the scattered silver bars on the ground, and Robin's doppelgänger tells Robin to find him in The Twisted Root. Robin was so shocked, overwhelmed and confused by the whole thing, he's terrified because he had assisted in the theft of silver bars, which is a very serious criminal offence. Robin didn't tell Ramy about it when he got back to his lodging.

The next day, Robin and Ramy meet the other two people in their class, two girls named Victoire Desgraves and Letitia Price. Victoire is Haitian, she speaks French and Kreyòl, and English with a faint french accent. Letitia, or Letty, is English, born and raised in Brighton, England, she speaks French and German, and is an admiral’s daughter. Robin and Ramy were so shocked that their classmates are girls, and they acted awkwardly at first towards the girls, but the four of them would soon hit it off. An older student named Anthony then came and took them for the tour of Babel, the tower where they'll be studying in for the foreseeable future, and if they work hard and are lucky enough, one day they'll be working in it, too.

After their classes for the day, Robin and Ramy walked the girls back to their lodgings that's located outside of the college area, which is pretty far from the tower, due to the fear of the girls corrupting the boy students. Victoire casually mentions that there's a pub called Twisted Roots near their lodging. Robin remembered that name, as it was the name of the place his doppelganger told him to go to meet him, so he asks her where it is, and Victoire gives him the location of the pub. After Robin and Ramy said goodbye to the girls, Robin lied to Ramy about going to Prof. Lovell's house in Jericho, which is closer to the girls' lodgings, to visit the Professor and Mrs. Piper, and told Ramy to go back first, and Ramy does as requested.

Robin met his doppelgänger in the pub, and demanded information regarding who he is, and why they look alike, and why he's stealing silver bars. What his doppelgänger told him and the proposal he gave Robin that evening lay the foundations for the events that will unfold during Robin's years in Oxford.

Family drama, secret societies, betrayal, power struggle, violence. Babel is the tallest and safest building in England, guarding the knowledge the people working in it has collected from all over the world, and the magic that's keeping the British empire together. But it's going to be brought down by the very people it has enslaved to enrich itself. Revolution looms ahead for the British Empire.

🚨SPOILER ALERT🚨

From this point forward in the review, I will mention spoilers, plot twist and the ending. So, if you don’t wish to be spoiled, you can skip the rest of the review and come back to this review once you’ve finished reading this book.

There are so many things I love in this book, but here are the very best things about it for me:

THE FRIENDSHIP. There are so many things I love about this book, but the one thing I love the most would definitely be the friendship between Robin, Ramy, Victoire and Letty. I don't even know how to even begin to to tell you about my love for their friendship. I feel like I always mention in every book review of the books that have some kind of friendship between the characters in it, that I found the friendship to be the best thing about the book. Because I think that friendships are such a magical thing, and this book, through the bond of friendship of Robin, Ramy, Victoire and Letty, just reminded me how true that is. As Hanya Yanagihara brilliantly wrote in A Little Life, "Wasn’t friendship its own miracle, the finding of another person who made the entire lonely world seem somehow less lonely?” I find one of the most magical things in this book is that these four individuals, who were born and raised in such vastly different cultures, thousands of miles away from each other, could find their ways into each other's lives and become such an irreplaceable part in them. How many people can say, "I would die for you," to you and you believe them 100%? And this person has no legal obligations that bind them to you, nor sexually attracted to you, nor has any genetic relations with you. This is a whole different separate individual who was raised with different values, rules and principles, yet they still choose to love and care for you, and they choose to be in your life, even though they have no obligation to. If that's not magical, I don't know what is.

This friendship that the four of them have, I feel like it's special among any other friendships that I have read and have come to love in other books, because it feels like they're each other's first loves. It might be because they're all each other has in Oxford, so no wonder they clung to each other like they do in the book. They're became a family, and it's like them VS the world. They were the outcasts, as Oxford at that time is reserved for the education of White Men only, and they find that only each other can truly understand them, and they find peace, happiness and solace in each other, by simply being together. I used to think that I understood how much they must love and care for one another, but I really didn't. Because I never really had that kind of friends, as I am lucky enough to have never got to be in their positions. But RF Kuang has written it so brilliantly that I can feel how much they love and care for one another, it exceeded the bounds of friendship, that at times I feel like they're even more than just friends and lovers, and it made it hurt so much more when the betrayal happened.

The one quote by Fredrik Backman (one of my favorite authors of all time) in Us Against You immediately came to mind when I was sobbing while reading THAT betrayal scene, "The best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, and they break our hearts in worse ways." That quote had never resonated with me more than at this exact moment, with these four characters. I remember hearing in a really great episode of an awesome podcast called Dear Sugars, that the heartbreak from the breakup of a friendship is so much worse than the heartbreak from a breakup of a romantic relationship, because people in romantic relationships breakup all the time (there are millions and millions of breakup songs, and thousands of books about marriage and romantic relationships, but how many songs and books about friendship breakups are there in this world?), but we think that friendships are supposed to last forever, and so the pain that comes with that is soul crushing. People cheat in romantic relationships all the time, but when friends do the act of betrayal, I feel like it's so shocking and disorienting because we almost never see it coming.

But these betrayals do happen, and friendships do breakup often in real life, even to the strongest ones that people thought would and should have lasted a lifetime. I love how RF Kuang depicted the conflicts that often happen in friendships, especially friendships between a group of people with such vastly different backgrounds, because conflicts happen all the time even in friendships between people with similar backgrounds. I felt the frustrations that Robin, Ramy and Victoire felt when they explained to Letty about the racism that they face for the millionth times, and Letty still not getting it, to the very end. How could she love them, as they did her, when she didn't even understand the very present racism that they faced? It hurts, but friends do hurt each other, sometimes.

However, while it lasted, before that betrayal happened, their friendship was so beautiful and magical, it was such a joy to read. I remember my school days and the friends I had from those days. There's something very special in that friendship where we get to be present in each other's lives almost everyday, bearing witness to their highs and lows, and then motivating and cheering them on their long and hard days, and the happiness that's multiplied when we're celebrating each other's successes, or even the mundane everyday dialogues and silences, it's all very precious and special to me, now. But the thing is, I took it for granted when it happened, and now I wish I had cherished those moments more, taken more pictures and videos with them, and made more effort to actually keep in touch with them after those school days are over. And so, I love that scene where they took a group picture of themselves, even though Robin, Ramy and Victoire hated the picture, in the end it's the only remaining proof of their happier days in Oxford.

(art by Kimberly McDonald)

To quote Andy Bernard from The Office, I wish there's a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them. Maybe that's why I love reading about friendships in books. Because maybe, in a way, I'm reliving those days through these characters in their stories, maybe it's my way of making those days last longer and cherishing it, like I should have done back then. So yes, I will always have a soft spot for beautiful friendships in books, and Robin, Ramy, Victoire and Letty's friendship has a special place in my heart.

MY PRECIOUS SON, ROBIN. I think it's fair to say that, at this point in my life, I have read many fantasy books, and I have fallen in love many times with the main characters of those books. But the things is, the main characters of those books are often times described to be a powerful brave knight who's also often times a natural born leader, and even though their initial situation may be tragic and incredibly hard, by the middle to end of the book they will have overcame it all and they heroically lead the fight against evil. Some might say, these are Mary Sue characters. Now Robin Swift, is a very unique main character, and by no means a Mary Sue, in my opinion. He is a scholar, and in no way a fighter, at least in 80% of the book. He literally ran away to avoid a fight, and he was so scared that he would lose an opportunity to study and have a good life in England, that he told his own brother to not involve him with anymore of Hermes business, even though he knew it's the only way he could take a stand against this powerful evil institution that is about to go to war with his home country, China (though he would later learn from his mistakes and rejoin The Hermes Society). All of this is to say, Robin is an unconventional fantasy book heroine, and that is so refreshing and that's one of the reasons I love him so much. Don't get me wrong, him being a scholar and not as heroic as other fantasy book heroines doesn't make him any less interesting or boring, quite the contrary actually, it's so interesting to read about him growing and changing over time as the story progresses. It almost feels like he went from one end of the spectrum to the other end, because even though he was so docile and non confrontational by the beginning of the book, he was so furious and hungry for revenge by the end of the book, but it was written in such a brilliant way that it doesn't feel forced or unnatural for him to change so drastically.

True, in the end, Robin took the charge and led the Babel students' strike against the British government, but there's absolutely no way it's his initial choice of action. Because it took many tragic deaths of some of the most important figures in Robin's lives, and the betrayal of one of the people he loved the most in this world, to get him to finally be so unhinged that he chose violence, and blew up an entire tower, and himself, along with some other willing characters. He was pushed so far beyond his limits, that by the end of the book, he was so unhinged, I even think that Rin from TPW would be impressed by the amount of destruction that Robin caused, and it was so hard to read. It definitely gave me flashbacks to the ending of The Burning God, and knowing Rebecca, I knew for sure by then that Robin will die in the end. Because homegirl simply does not write the easy happy endings, no.

Rebecca writes the hard and heartbreaking endings, because they're the right endings to the stories and the characters in it. One thing for sure, RF Kuang is NOT afraid of killing her darlings, and it's the quality that I have come to highly respect and appreciate of hers. Because it must not be easy for her. Fredrik Backman said in his events when asked about how he makes his writing so good to the point that it made so many people cry, he said that people crying while reading his books is the extension of him crying while writing his books, because to write something so profound and poignant that so many people were able to relate and cry to, it took so much out of the author, and that Backman even wrote himself into depression at one point. Now, I don't know if Rebecca agrees to that sentiment, and I don't know if she cried when she was writing this book, but I can definitely imagine her sobbing while writing this book, because I was sobbing while reading it. I don't know how these incredible authors do it, to make people you don't even know cry and be so impacted by the pieces of art you created... It's wizardry. These authors are wizards. I highly appreciate the emotional labor they put into their books.

Anyway, Robin be robbin' my heart in this book. It was such a journey reading his story. My guy has one of the most tragic life stories, but my God, is it inspiring and impactful for me personally. I really love reading his inner turmoil about wanting to stay to study in Oxford and make Prof. Lovell proud of him, but also knowing that what Lovell's done is NOT right and wanting to do something about it. I also love his character arc, his character growth is incredible, heartbreaking though, it was. I felt his heartbreak when he realizes that no matter how hard he tries, he will never ever be seen as a fellow human being by Lovell, let alone be a son he can proudly claim for the world to know, much less be a son he can ever love, all because he's half Chinese. I think, from Robin's story, we can all learn how critical it is for us to take a stand for what is right, in anyway we could, and to not be trapped in the comfort of our everyday lives. To comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable, I think it's one of the most important message this book has. Although, granted, by the end, Robin was so blinded by rage and fury, and he was also so broken from all the tragic deaths of his loved ones, that the actions Robin took in the end is very extreme, that I hope that we would never be put in positions where we have to do anything even remotely close to it. But I think the message is very well delivered. It evokes the question if violence is really necessary to break free from oppressive systems? With all of these reckonings happening all over the world, be it about injustice, oppression, or even global warming, one thing for sure, we should all take a part to help make a good change in this world.

Also, I gotta say, I can relate so much to Robin. I can also see my precious late son Kitay in him, and in a perfect world, these two precious characters never had to die and live long and fulfilling lives, but alas, the world is too rotten for these two angels, and now they're in heavens, where they belong. As I have mentioned before, I would very much like to read more of Babel, and if Rebecca ever graciously decides to make more books about it, if it's a sequel, I hope we get to find out how the British Empire is impacted by the explosion of Babel, and how Robin's legacy is being honored, and about Robin's and Griffin's other half siblings (since in his letter to Robin, he said there are more of them), or if it's a prequel, I hope it's about Griffin and The Hermes Society.

I wish we got to know Robin's real Chinese name.

MY SWEETHEART, RAMY. Ah, so we've arrived at the point where I have to relive the biggest heartbreak I experienced while reading this book. Okay, first let me tell you the reasons why, to me, Ramy's the brightest star of this book:

He's the first muslim character in a fantasy book that I've ever read, and RF Kuang excellently, respectfully and accurately depicts him as a muslim. Because Ramy is so well written, he's multi dimensional and complicated and overall, such a joy to read. And, if you haven't notice even from the hijab I wore in my profile picture, I, myself, am a muslim. I was taken aback when I read about him doing prayers, saying Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi Raji’un when a character dies, and Rebecca even remembers to not make Ramy drink any alcohol, because those are the things that I do too. I feel so close to Ramy due to this, I feel like he could be one of my classmates, except for him being exceptionally bright with an exceptional talent for languages. I had to keep reminding myself that I'm reading a dark academia fantasy book, because it just seems so unbelievable to me to be reading about a muslim character in a book of this genre, but I am so grateful and incredibly ecstatic to have that representation. And yes, I am aware that I need to read more, as there are A LOT of muslim characters in fantasy books already existed before Ramy, especially in the ones written by muslim authors. Trust me, they are now added to my TBR list and I am so excited to read those books.

The book doesn't mention it outright, but I think it did insinuated that Ramy is gay. I mean, tell me you disagree with me after reading this scene:

"‘Why won’t you dance with Letty?’ ‘I’m not looking to start a row.’ ‘No, really.’ ‘Please, Birdie.’ Ramy sighed. ‘You know how it is.’ ‘She wants you,’ Robin said. He’d only just realized this, and now that he said it out loud, it seemed so obvious that he felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. ‘Very badly. So why—’ ‘Don’t you know why?’ Their eyes met. Robin felt a prickle at the back of his neck. The space between them felt very charged, like the moment between lightning and thunder, and Robin had no idea what was going on or what would happen next, only that it all felt very strange and terrifying, like teetering over the edge of a windy, roaring cliff."

RIGHT?!!! Also, I think Robin might also be gay or bi, because it seems that he was having a gay panic in that scene above. Also, take a look at this scene:

"Ramy gesticulated wildly as he spoke. It was clear he wasn’t truly angry, just passionate and clearly brilliant, so invested in the truth he needed the whole world to know. Robin leaned back and watched Ramy’s lovely, agitated face, both amazed and delighted. He could have cried then. He’d been so desperately lonely, and had only now realized it, and now he wasn’t, and this felt so good he didn’t know what to do with himself."

And I love that for them. I mean, this is just my theory though, I don't think that Rebecca has ever commented about the characters' sexual orientations, so this is all just my personal assumption. And so, that makes Ramy a complicated character, since we know from how he's depicted in the book, that he's a pretty devout muslim, and Islam doesn't look kindly upon anything LGBTQIA+, not at all. I can only imagine Ramy having multiple complex inner conflicts about this, and I wish we'd gotten that being explored in this book, because queerness in Islam is a topic not being discussed enough, and to have Ramy be proudly gay and a muslim would have been an important representation to have. Especially for young queer muslims who would've felt represented had it was explored more in the book, instead of just being a subtext. But I understand that Rebecca may think that she's not well equipped to be tackling such complicated topic, since she's not a muslim herself, also the book's setting is in 1830s England, which is not a great time and place for queer people.

Ramy's very sarcastic and funny, and I know he might be using sarcasm and humor as coping mechanisms since he had to deal with the gross racism almost everyday while living in England, and that behind the funny and sarcastic facade is a whole lot of hurt, but that's one of the reasons why I love him, because I can relate. Who among us doesn't use humor and sarcasm as coping mechanisms? Well, not me. I am completely fine, and I don't have nor need any coping mechanism whatsoever.

His background story made me cry more than the others'. Again, it must be because I'm a muslim, but reading about his childhood in Calcutta, his family and his father, oh my God, it just gets to me. When his father was being humiliated by those rotten racists in front of Ramy, his own son. And when his father was saying goodbye to him when he was to board the ship to England. Those remain one of the most heartbreaking scenes in this book.

Okay, now, let's talk about THAT scene. When he was shot and then died, I almost threw my phone across the room (because I was reading the ebook on my phone). That scene fucking broke me, because Ramy was one of the best things about this book, to me. And he was killed??!!!! By Letty, no less. Oh God, I can't even begin to tell you the overwhelming anger, shock, and devastation I felt. Just know that I was ready to throw hands, and sue RF Kuang for emotional damage. I wasn't even in denial, like I usually was when I first read about the sudden deaths of my favorite characters (SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE POPPY WAR, MISTBORN, A LITTLE LIFE AND CROOKED KINGDOM!!) (Altan of TPW, Kelsier of Mistborn, Willem of ALL, Matthias of SoC, etc.), I fucking knew that Ramy was really dead, and that he's not coming back. Because if there's anything I know about Rebecca, it's that she likes to make her readers suffer. While I understand that his death is instrumental in moving the story into its climax, it still hurts, Rebecca. It hurts so much reading about the murder of your favorite character.

MY QUEEN, VICTOIRE. Queen of surviving, or survivor queen(?). I truly hope we get more of her, because I feel like we got so very little of her in the book, but she was actually a fascinating character with a lot of depth, which we only find out in the end of the book. I get that maybe she's more of a quiet type, and I can relate to that, so maybe that is why we don't get more of her in the book. I feel like every friend group has that one quiet friend who would rather be a wallflower to the group's more extroverted friends' lively discussions and shenanigans. Maybe you yourselves have or even have been that one quiet friend. However, it almost feels like I was robbed of more scenes where Victoire and her personality shines before shit hits the fan.

I was so glad that she didn't die. Listen, when Robin was becoming unhinged and I realized that he will have to die by the end of the book, I was TERRIFIED that Rebecca's gonna kill Victoire too, because one of the most heartbreaking thing about The Burning God is that (SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE BURNING GOD!!) Kitay died along with Rin in the end. So, when I had that realization that Robin will die in the end, I was like, OH HELL NOOO!!! I was still reeling from Ramy's death, and while I was already slowly accepting Robin's inevitable death, I was in no way ready for Victoire's death. And that is why I was so happy that in the end, she chose to leave and continue to live. And I truly think that it's such a brave choice for her to make, such a radical one too, in her position.

It's a radical choice because I think people would expect her to die along with Robin, you know, because best friends are supposed to die for one another and be each other's ride or die, which is actually unhealthy. While yes, people in friendship should ideally care about their friends, and in some cases if they're lucky enough maybe those friends even love each other, but we should never expect anyone to die for us. I mean, loving our friends means respecting the fact that they are individuals with their own lives and free will, and they should be able to make choices regarding their own lives. So maybe we should stop this belief that friends should want to die for one another. Call me crazy but you should be able to love your friends without giving them your whole life and death. This applies for romantic partners too, IMO.

Also, because in Robin's case, while yes, he died in an effort to prevent the British Empire from attacking China, and thus, saving many innocent civilian lives, but it's also because he's been so broken that he didn't have the will to live anymore, so he wanted to kill himself, which is, as Ramy and Victoire told him, an escape for him, as it is the easy way out. As Victoire said, the evil and injustice doesn't end with Babel, and there is still so much they have to do to stop the colonization of the British Empire in the world, to accomplish what the Hermes Society was made for. Their fight is so far from being over but they have to be alive to actually fight it. And so, to continue living and continue the fight is actually much harder than dying by blowing up Babel. But Robin said that he couldn't go on, and in the end he chose what he chose. I really love the fact that he respected Victoire's wishes to leave and live on, and so did Victoire towards Robin's final wishes. What's heartbreaking though is that, in the end, she thought she was being selfish, because she really wasn't.

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT LETTY. Do I hate the bitch? Yes. Oh, believe me, yes I really do hate her. But oh God, is she hurting too. It feels like everything she loves, she hurts. She's also suffering, even if it's in a different way than Robin and Victoire are suffering. Imagine having to live with the knowledge that you killed the man you loved, who's also one of your best friends. She must also blame herself for the death of her brother, and then Robin and Victoire's (even though Victoire is actually still alive, but Letty would never know that). These are the people she had loved dearly. I cannot even begin to imagine what a miserable life that is. RF Kuang did a great job making me care for Letty too, even after everything, she really is the queen of writing morally grey characters.

Gosh, I really should have known better because Letty was already exposing herself from the beginning, anytime Robin, Ramy or Victoire show any sign of not being happy with Babel due to its racism, Letty was all, "Why aren't you happy? you should be grateful." Reminds me of somebody (Lovell). But when I was reading it, I brushed it aside, I thought she would come around soon enough, but then she did it again, and I was like "Pooja Letty, what is this behaviour?!!"

But still, I trusted that she will eventually understand and support her friends. I really suck at detecting toxic people, huh? But I was able to sense that something is wrong with her when she wanted to walk around by herself around the Old Library. When she pointed the gun to Robin, Ramy and Victoire, I still thought she was just bluffing. So when she actually shot Ramy, I realized what I was this whole time...

And when we got to the 2nd interlude which was about Letty's back story, I was like NOPE. Not giving you a chance to make me feel sorry for this bitch, Rebecca. But, I was too scared that it would include something important that would be pertinent to the remainder of the story, so I did read her interlude. And now, here we are. Feeling sorry for Letty.

Oh, and that scene when she tried to convince Robin and Victoire to give up before the army attacks them, I hate that I still feel sad for her. I kept reminding myself that she's Ramy's murderer, but I'm too soft, I can't help but feel sorry for her. Maybe being so lonely and full of regrets for killing someone as precious as Ramy and losing amazing friends like Robin and Victoire is punishment enough for her. I can't imagine having to live with such pains.

POOR BRAVE GRIFFIN. Another character that I hoped to get more of in the book, but didn't. I initially didn't trust him, I thought he was just using Robin to sell those silver and use the money himself or other nefarious things, but he didn't, he was actually doing the most for The Hermes Society. He really hated the British Empire and did his darndest best to help bring it down. By the few final chapters I regretted ever not trusting him so much. His life is so tragic, maybe arguably even more tragic than Robin's, although it's not a competition. I wish we get more of his story and the missions he did for the Hermes Society.

THE BEAUTY OF LANGUAGES. I'm so grateful to be bilingual (English is my second language, Bahasa Indonesia is my mother tongue), and I have always been interested in so many other languages. Being a lover of books, I understand the beauty of words and so I have also come to love the languages of the books I loved. Last year I briefly learned Swedish in Duolingo, in an effort to be able to read the third and final book of one of my favorite trilogy of all time, The Winners, of the Beartown trilogy, by Fredrik Backman. The book is originally written in Swedish and it's released in October last year, while the English version has just been released this month in the US. My study of the Swedish language on Duolingo came to an abrupt end when I realized there's no way I would be fluent enough to read and fully understand the book without actually translating every other word with google translate, so I accepted my defeat and waited a whole ass year for the English version of the book. But, when I was only 2 chapters into Babel, it has reignited my will to study Swedish. I'm happy to announce that I will soon resume my study of the Swedish language, not that anyone cares. Who knows, maybe by the time Backman releases a new book in Swedish, I would be fluent enough to actually read and understand it, though I hope it wouldn't take Backman that long to release another book. I love that my whole motivation for studying a whole new language is books.

My whole point is that Babel has that effect on its readers. It really showcases the beauty of languages and the magic that they have. Because languages really are magical, there are literally sayings in one language that can't be properly translated or explained in any other language, but there's so many people who spoke that language and have it as their mother tongue who understands that saying and so it's like some kind of the biggest inside joke ever. Isn't that so magical? Languages open doors to new knowledge, and new treasures that are written in books from all over the world. As Anthony pointed out in the book,

"‘Languages aren’t just made of words. They’re modes of looking at the world. They’re the keys to civilization. And that’s knowledge worth killing for.’"

THE BRILLIANT MAGIC SYSTEM. I think it's so brilliant of RF Kuang to use the translation-based magic, where translation is deconstructed and attached to a magic effect, using silver and a person who has mastered a minimum of two different languages. I think it's so smart and brilliant and unique. I love it so much. Of all things in this world that she can imagine having magical powers to use in her book, she chose translation, and silver. I understand that it must be because Rebecca loves languages and is passionate about translation, but I mean, using it in a fantasy book might be the best thing she ever did, in terms of writing magic systems for her books. I'm so excited to find out what's her next best idea for her books would be.

THE REFRESHING TAKE ON DARK ACADEMIA. It has been known that Dark Academia lacks diversity. In most cases, almost all of the characters in Dark Academia books and movies are all white (The Secret History, Kill Your Darlings, Dead Poet Society, etc.), and if you look up dark academia fashion inspo, it's almost always white people in those pictures, wearing Dark Academia inspired outfits (although now more and more POC make Dark Academia fashion inspo too, via social media, which is awesome). So it feels like Dark Academia is reserved for white people only, and for the longest time I felt guilty for liking it. That is why it feels so refreshing to have 3 of the 4 main characters of the book to be people of colour, and the main conflict of the story to be about racism in the academia world and colonialism. It's like RF Kuang is saying fuck your white dominance in the world of Dark Academia, here's the diversity it has been lacking. She's showing that POC belong in the academic world just as much as everyone else, and it's high time we depict that in our media. What a power move. For that I will always stan this woman.

As much as I love this book, I do have some criticisms…

I find it a little hard to believe that Griffin regains his ability to make silver bars with mandarin engraving works ever since he heard Robin say something in mandarin, because isn't he supposed to be traveling abroad often, why didn't he just go to China and regain that ability back years before he met Robin?

I need to know SO MUCH more about the Hermes Society, I feel like the book should have given us more about it in order to make us root for it more. It's very hard to make people root for something they don't really know about.

I wish we get multiple POVs (Ramy's, Victoire's and Letty's, and even Griffin's and Lovell's) instead of only Robin's. I truly believe it would make this book even better than it already is, since it will undoubtedly give more life to the other 3 main characters, and probably even give them more depth. I'd also like to get more out of these three characters.

THIS BOOK IS WAAAYYYYYYY TOO SHORT FOR ME, I NEED MORE OF THESE DELICIOUSLY AWESOME CAST OF CHARACTERS. I'm thinking of starting a petition for RF Kuang to make more books or novellas with these awesome characters. Give me prequels, sequels, anything, PLEASE.

Here are my favourite moments from the book:

Those first days when Robin and Ramy were exploring Oxford for the first time and they had a picnic just the two of them.

When the four of them were laughing themselves silly in Victoire's room looking for the ripe pears that the stench must be coming from but there's no pears.

When Griffin gave Robin the three-volume set of Oliver Twist because Robin mentioned to Griffin that he likes Dickens.

When Robin impressed that snobby Pendennis and his snobby friends, who were undermining him, at that wine party.

That ball scene in the Babel tower, thrown by Babel students.

That night in the old library when they had dinner, when they were scheming to defy the British empire.

And finally, here are my favorite quotes from the book:

"He felt a sharp ache in his chest as Canton disappeared over the horizon, and then a raw emptiness, as if a grappling hook had yanked his heart out of his body. It had not registered until now that he would not step foot on his native shore again for many years, if ever. He wasn’t sure what to make of this fact. The word loss was inadequate. Loss just meant a lack, meant something was missing, but it did not encompass the totality of this severance, this terrifying un-anchoring from all that he’d ever known."

"He had no right to be resentful. Professor Lovell had promised him everything, and owed him nothing. Robin did not yet fully understand the rules of this world he was about to enter, but he understood the necessity of gratitude. Of deference. One did not spite one’s saviours."

"He quashed his memories too. His life in Canton – his mother, his grandparents, a decade of running about the docks – it all proved surprisingly easy to shed, perhaps because this passage was so jarring, the break so complete. He’d left behind everything he’d known. There was nothing to cling to, nothing to escape back to. His world now was Professor Lovell, Mrs Piper, and the promise of a country on the other side of the ocean. He buried his past life, not because it was so terrible but because abandoning it was the only way to survive. He pulled on his English accent like a new coat, adjusted everything he could about himself to make it fit, and, within weeks, wore it with comfort. In weeks, no one was asking him to speak a few words in Chinese for their entertainment. In weeks, no one seemed to remember he was Chinese at all."

"‘But that’s the beauty of learning a new language. It should feel like an enormous undertaking. It ought to intimidate you. It makes you appreciate the complexity of the ones you know already.’"

"But even then, Robin was not too young to understand there were some truths that could not be uttered, that life as normal was only possible if they were never acknowledged. He had a roof over his head, three guaranteed meals a day, and access to more books than he could read in a lifetime. He did not, he knew, have the right to demand anything more. He made a decision then. He would never question Professor Lovell, never probe at the empty space where the truth belonged. As long as Professor Lovell did not accept him as a son, Robin would not attempt to claim him as a father. A lie was not a lie if it was never uttered; questions that were never asked did not need answers. They would both remain perfectly content to linger in the liminal, endless space between truth and denial."

"Inside, the heady wood-dust smell of freshly printed books was overwhelming. If tobacco smelled like this, Robin thought, he’d huff it every day. He stepped towards the closest shelf, hand lifted tentatively towards the books on display, too afraid to touch them – they seemed so new and crisp; their spines were uncracked, their pages smooth and bright. Robin was used to well-worn, waterlogged tomes; even his Classics grammars were decades old. These shiny, freshly bound things seemed like a different class of object, things to be admired from a distance rather than handled and read. ‘Pick one,’ said Professor Lovell. ‘You ought to know the feeling of acquiring your first book.’ Pick one? Just one, of all these treasures?"

"He cocked his head. ‘Do you wish to return to Canton?’ Robin swallowed. ‘No.’ He meant it. Even after this, even after the miseries of his classes, he could not imagine an alternate future for himself. Canton meant poverty, insignificance, and ignorance. Canton meant the plague. Canton meant no more books. London meant all the material comforts he could ask for. London meant, someday, Oxford."

"‘I’ve always just tried to blend in,’ said Robin. ‘But that’s impossible for me,’ said Ramy. ‘I have to play a part. Back in Calcutta, we all tell the story of Sake Dean Mahomed, the first Muslim from Bengal to become a rich man in England. He has a white Irish wife. He owns property in London. And you know how he did it? He opened a restaurant, which failed; and then he tried to be hired as a butler or valet, which also failed. And then he had the brilliant idea of opening a shampoo house in Brighton.’ Ramy chuckled. ‘Come and get your healing vapours! Be massaged with Indian oils! It cures asthma and rheumatism; it heals paralysis. Of course, we don’t believe that at home. But all Dean Mahomed had to do was give himself some medical credentials, convince the world of this magical Oriental cure, and then he had them eating out of the palm of his hand. So what does that tell you, Birdie? If they’re going to tell stories about you, use it to your advantage. The English are never going to think I’m posh, but if I fit into their fantasy, then they’ll at least think I’m royalty.’"

"They stood looking at each other in silence. There was no question about what had happened. They were both shaken by the sudden realization that they did not belong in this place, that despite their affiliation with the Translation Institute and despite their gowns and pretensions, their bodies were not safe on the streets. They were men at Oxford; they were not Oxford men. But the enormity of this knowledge was so devastating, such a vicious antithesis to the three golden days they’d blindly enjoyed, that neither of them could say it out loud. And they never would say it out loud. It hurt too much to consider the truth. It was so much easier to pretend; to keep spinning the fantasy for as long as they could."

"‘But academics by nature are a solitary, sedentary lot. Travel sounds fun until you realize what you really want is to stay at home with a cup of tea and a stack of books by a warm fire.’"

"‘Translation, from time immemorial, has been the facilitator of peace. Translation makes possible communication, which in turn makes possible the kind of diplomacy, trade, and cooperation between foreign peoples that brings wealth and prosperity to all."

"And then they were laughing again. Soon it became apparent that no topics were off limits. They could talk about anything, share all the indescribable humiliations they felt being in a place they were not supposed to be, all the lurking unease that until now they’d kept to themselves. They offered up everything about themselves because they had, at last, found the only group of people for whom their experiences were not so unique or baffling."

"One thing united them all – without Babel, they had nowhere in this country to go. They’d been chosen for privileges they couldn’t have ever imagined, funded by powerful and wealthy men whose motives they did not fully understand, and they were acutely aware these could be lost at any moment. That precariousness made them simultaneously bold and terrified. They had the keys to the kingdom; they did not want to give them back."

"‘Babel collects foreign languages and foreign talent the same way it hoards silver and uses them to produce translation magic that benefits England and England only. The vast majority of all silver bars in use in the world are in London. The newest, most powerful bars in use rely on Chinese, Sanskrit, and Arabic to work, but you’ll count less than a thousand bars in the countries where those languages are widely spoken, and then only in the homes of the wealthy and powerful. And that’s wrong. That’s predatory. That’s fundamentally unjust.’"

"So you see, translators do not so much deliver a message as they rewrite the original. And herein lies the difficulty – rewriting is still writing, and writing always reflects the author’s ideology and biases. After all, the Latin translatio means “to carry across”. Translation involves a spatial dimension – a literal transportation of texts across conquered territory, words delivered like spices from an alien land. Words mean something quite different when they journey from the palaces of Rome to the tearooms of today’s Britain."

"And he wondered at the contradiction: that he despised them, that he knew they could be up to no good, and that still he wanted to be respected by them enough to be included in their ranks. It was a very strange mix of emotions. He hadn’t the faintest idea how to sort through them."

"Then he blinked, because he’d just registered what this most mundane and extraordinary moment meant – that in the space of several weeks, they had become what he’d never found in Hampstead, what he thought he’d never have again after Canton: a circle of people he loved so fiercely his chest hurt when he thought about them. A family."

"He felt a crush of guilt then for loving them, and Oxford, as much as he did. He adored it here; he really did. For all the daily slights he suffered, walking through campus delighted him. He simply could not maintain, as Griffin did, an attitude of constant suspicion or rebellion; he could not acquire Griffin’s hatred of this place. Yet didn’t he have a right to be happy? He had never felt such warmth in his chest until now, had never looked forward to getting up in the morning as he did now. Babel, his friends, and Oxford – they had unlocked a part of him, a place of sunshine and belonging, that he never thought he’d feel again. The world felt less dark. He was a child starved of affection, which he now had in abundance – and was it so wrong for him to cling to what he had? He was not ready to commit fully to Hermes. But by God, he would have killed for any of his cohort."

"‘Which seems right to you? Do we try our hardest, as translators, to render ourselves invisible? Or do we remind our reader that what they are reading was not written in their native language?’ ‘That’s an impossible question,’ said Victoire. ‘Either you situate the text in its time and place, or you bring it to where you are, here and now. You’re always giving something up.’ ‘Is faithful translation impossible, then?’ Professor Playfair challenged. ‘Can we never communicate with integrity across time, across space?’ ‘I suppose not,’ Victoire said reluctantly. ‘But what is the opposite of fidelity?’ asked Professor Playfair. He was approaching the end of this dialectic; now he needed only to draw it to a close with a punch. ‘Betrayal. Translation means doing violence upon the original, means warping and distorting it for foreign, unintended eyes. So then where does that leave us? How can we conclude, except by acknowledging that an act of translation is then necessarily always an act of betrayal?’"

"‘Languages aren’t just made of words. They’re modes of looking at the world. They’re the keys to civilization. And that’s knowledge worth killing for.’"

"English did not just borrow words from other languages; it was stuffed to the brim with foreign influences, a Frankenstein vernacular. And Robin found it incredible, how this country, whose citizens prided themselves so much on being better than the rest of the world, could not make it through an afternoon tea without borrowed goods."

"'History isn’t a premade tapestry that we’ve got to suffer, a closed world with no exit. We can form it. Make it. We just have to choose to make it.’"

"Come back with me, he almost said when they parted. Come to hall. Come back and have Christmas dinner. But that was impossible. Robin’s life was split into two, and Griffin existed in the shadow world, hidden from sight. Robin could never bring him back to Magpie Lane. Could never introduce him to his friends. Could never, in daylight, call him brother."

"‘You have such a great fear of freedom, brother. It’s shackling you. You’ve identified so hard with the colonizer, you think any threat to them is a threat to you. When are you going to realize you can’t be one of them?’"

"At last, Griffin shook his head and said, ‘You’re lost, brother. You’re a ship adrift, searching for familiar shores. I understand what it is you want. I sought it too. But there is no homeland. It’s gone.’ He paused beside Robin on his way to the door. His fingers landed on Robin’s shoulder, squeezed so hard they hurt. ‘But realize this, brother. You fly no one’s flag. You’re free to seek your own harbour. And you can do so much more than tread water.’"

"A hundred arguments swam through Robin’s head – that he had not requested these privileges of Oxford, had not chosen to be spirited out of Canton at all, that the generosities of the university should not demand his constant, unswerving loyalty to the Crown and its colonial projects, and if it did, then that was a peculiar form of bondage he had never agreed to. That he had not wished for this fate until it was thrust upon him, decided for him. That he didn’t know what life he would have chosen – this one, or a life in which he’d grown up in Canton, among people who looked and spoke like him. But what did it matter? Professor Lovell would hardly sympathize. All that mattered was that Robin was guilty."

"‘You drink the champagne, Robin. You take your allowance. You live in your furnished room on Magpie Lane, you parade down the streets in your robes and tailored clothes, all paid for by the school, and yet you say all this money comes from blood. This does not bother you?’ And that was the heart of it all, wasn’t it? Robin had always been willing, in theory, to give up only some things for a revolution he halfway believed in. He was fine with resistance as long as it didn’t hurt him. And the contradiction was fine, as long as he didn’t think too hard about it, or look too closely. But spelled out like this, in such bleak terms, it seemed inarguable that far from being a revolutionary, Robin, in fact, had no convictions whatsoever."

"Mr Trevelyan turned back to the other guests. ‘Consider this boy and his father. Both of similar ability, both of a similar background and education. The father begins with even more of an advantage, I would say, as his father, I’m told, belonged to a wealthier merchant class. But so fortunes rise and fall. Despite his natural talents, Mr Mirza here can attain no better than a posting as a domestic servant. Don’t you agree, Mr Mirza?’ Ramy saw the most peculiar expression then on his father’s face. He looked as if he were holding something in, as if he’d swallowed a very bitter seed but was unable to spit it out. Suddenly this game did not seem such fun. He felt nervous now for showing off, but couldn’t quite put his finger on why. ‘Come now, Mr Mirza,’ said Mr Trevelyan. ‘You can’t claim that you wanted to be a footman.’ Mr Mirza gave a nervous chuckle. ‘It’s a great honour to serve Sir Horace Wilson.’ ‘Oh, come off it – no need to be polite, we all know how he farts.’ Ramy stared at his father; the man he still thought was as tall as a mountain, the man who had taught him all his scripts: Roman, Arabic, and Nastaliq. The man who taught him salah. The man who taught him the meaning of respect. His hafiz."

"His father stood a little way back, observing his wife and children, blinking hard as if trying to commit everything to memory. At last, when the boarding call sounded, he hugged his son to his chest and whispered, ‘Allah hafiz.* Write to your mother.’ ‘Yes, Abbu.’ ‘Forget not who you are, Ramiz.’ ‘Yes, Abbu.’ Ramy was fourteen then, and old enough to understand the meaning of pride. Ramy intended to do more than remember. For he understood now why his father had smiled that day in the sitting room – not out of weakness or submission, and not out of fear of reprisal. He’d been playing a part. He’d been showing Ramy how it was done. Lie, Ramiz. This was the lesson, the most important lesson he’d ever been taught. Hide, Ramiz. Show the world what they want; contort yourself into the image they want to see, because seizing control of the story is how you in turn control them. Hide your faith, hide your prayers, for Allah will still know your heart."

"‘I’m not a traitor,’ Robin pleaded. ‘I’m just trying to survive.’ ‘Survival’s not that difficult, Birdie.’ Ramy’s eyes were very hard. ‘But you’ve got to maintain some dignity while you’re at it.’"

"‘It’s called yánghuò,’ said Robin. ‘That’s what she called the opium. Yáng means “foreign”, huò means “goods”. Yánghuò means “foreign goods”. That’s how they refer to everything here. Yáng people. Yáng guilds. Yánghuòre – an obsession with foreign goods, with opium. And that’s me. That’s coming from me. I’m yáng.’ They paused over a bridge, beneath which fishermen and sampans went back and forth. The din of it, the cacophony of a language he’d spent so much time away from and now had to focus on to decipher, made Robin want to press his hands against his ears, to block out a soundscape that should have but did not feel like home."

"Robin saw a great spider’s web in his mind then. Cotton from India to Britain, opium from India to China, silver becoming tea and porcelain in China, and everything flowing back to Britain. It sounded so abstract – just categories of use, exchange, and value – until it wasn’t; until you realized the web you lived in and the exploitations your lifestyle demanded, until you saw looming above it all the spectre of colonial labour and colonial pain. ‘It’s sick,’ he whispered. ‘It’s sick, it’s so sick . . .’"

"What he wanted, Robin thought, was for Professor Lovell to admit what he’d done. That it was unnatural, this entire arrangement; that children were not stock to be experimented on, judged for their blood, spirited away from their homeland in service of Crown and country. That Robin was more than a talking dictionary, and that his motherland was more than a fat golden goose. But he knew these were acknowledgments that Professor Lovell would never make. The truth between them was not buried because it was painful, but because it was inconvenient, and because Professor Lovell simply refused to address it. It was so obvious now that he was not, and could never be, a person in his father’s eyes. No, personhood demanded the blood purity of the European man, the racial status that would make him Professor Lovell’s equal. Little Dick and Philippa were persons. Robin Swift was an asset, and assets should be undyingly grateful that they were treated well at all."

"He had become so good at holding two truths in his head at once. That he was an Englishman and not. That Professor Lovell was his father and not. That the Chinese were a stupid, backwards people, and that he was also one of them. That he hated Babel, and wanted to live forever in its embrace. He had danced for years on the razor’s edge of these truths, had remained there as a means of survival, a way to cope, unable to accept either side fully because an unflinching examination of the truth was so frightening that the contradictions threatened to break him. But he could not go on like this. He could not exist a split man, his psyche constantly erasing and re-erasing the truth. He felt a great pressure in the back of his mind. He felt like he would quite literally burst, unless he stopped being double. Unless he chose."

"The origins of the word anger were tied closely to physical suffering. Anger was first an ‘affliction’, as meant by the Old Icelandic angr, and then a ‘painful, cruel, narrow’ state, as meant by the Old English enge, which in turn came from the Latin angor, which meant ‘strangling, anguish, distress’. Anger was a chokehold. Anger did not empower you. It sat on your chest; it squeezed your ribs until you felt trapped, suffocated, out of options. Anger simmered, then exploded. Anger was constriction, and the consequent rage a desperate attempt to breathe. And rage, of course, came from madness."

"‘Diē?’ He did not know what made him say it, the word for father. Perhaps he thought it would stun Professor Lovell, that the shock alone would bring him back to life, that he could yank his father’s soul back to his body by naming the one thing that they had never named. But Professor Lovell was limp, gone, and no matter how hard Robin shook him the blood would not stop pouring. ‘Diē,’ he said again. Then a laugh escaped his throat; hysterical, helpless, because it was so very funny, so apt that the romanization of father contained the same letters for death in English. And Professor Lovell was so clearly, incontrovertibly dead. There was no walking back from this. There could be no more pretending."

"‘It’s just – you’re all signed up to help me conceal a murder?’ Robin couldn’t help all his statements becoming questions. The whole world right then seemed like one great, unanswerable question. ‘And you’re not even going to ask how, or why?’ Ramy and Victoire exchanged a look. But it was Letty who answered first. ‘I think we all understand why.’"

"How could they tell her she was being delusional? That it was insane to imagine that the British legal system was truly neutral, that they would receive a fair trial, that people who looked like Robin, Ramy, and Victoire might kill a white Oxford professor, throw his body overboard, lie about it for weeks, and then walk away unscathed? That the fact that she clearly believed all this was only evidence of the starkly different worlds they lived in?"

"‘You want to do the right thing,’ said Ramy, bullish. ‘You always do. But you think the right thing is martyrdom. You think if you suffer enough for whatever sins you’ve committed, then you’re absolved.’ ‘I do not—’ ‘That’s why you took the fall for us that night. Every time you come up against something difficult, you just want to make it go away, and you think the way to do that is self-flagellation. You’re obsessed with punishment. But that’s not how this works, Birdie. You going to prison fixes nothing. You hanging from the gallows fixes nothing. The world’s still broken. A war’s still coming. The only way to properly make amends is to stop it, which you don’t want to do, because really what this is about is your being afraid.’"

"‘What do you mean?’ Letty cried. ‘Of course I’m with you. You’re my friends, I’m with you until the end.’ Then she flung her arms around Victoire and began to weep stormily. Victoire stiffened, looking baffled, but after a moment she raised her arms and cautiously hugged Letty back. ‘I’m sorry.’ Letty sniffled between sobs. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry . . .’ ... Still, something did not seem right, and Robin could tell from Victoire’s and Ramy’s faces that they thought so too. It took him a moment to realize what it was that grated on him, and when he did, it would bother him constantly, now and thereafter; it would seem a great paradox, the fact that after everything they had told Letty, all the pain they had shared, she was the one who needed comfort."

"‘There are no kind masters, Letty,’ Anthony continued. ‘It doesn’t matter how lenient, how gracious, how invested in your education they make out to be. Masters are masters in the end.’"

"‘The thing about violence, see, is that the Empire has a lot more to lose than we do. Violence disrupts the extractive economy. You wreak havoc on one supply line, and there’s a dip in prices across the Atlantic. Their entire system of trade is high-strung and vulnerable to shocks because they’ve made it thus, because the rapacious greed of capitalism is punishing. It’s why slave revolts succeed. They can’t fire on their own source of labour – it’d be like killing their own golden geese.'"

"‘Violence shows them how much we’re willing to give up,’ said Griffin. ‘Violence is the only language they understand, because their system of extraction is inherently violent. Violence shocks the system. And the system cannot survive the shock. You have no idea what you’re capable of, truly. You can’t imagine how the world might shift unless you pull the trigger.’"

"‘But that’s the problem, you see. No one’s focused on how we’re all connected. We only think about how we suffer, individually. The poor and middle-class of this country don’t realize they have more in common with us than they do with Westminster.’"

"One day Robin would ask himself how his shock had turned so easily to rage; why his first reaction was not disbelief at this betrayal but black, consuming hatred. And the answer would elude and disturb him, for it tiptoed around a complicated tangle of love and jealousy that ensnared them all, for which they had no name or explanation, a truth they’d only been starting to wake up to and now, after this, would never acknowledge. But just then, all he knew was red blurring out the edges of his vision, crowding out everything but Letty. He knew now how it felt to truly want a person dead, to want to tear them apart limb by limb, to hear them scream, to make them hurt. He understood now how murder felt, how rage felt, for this was it, the intent to kill he ought to have felt when he killed his father."

"Grief suffocated. Grief paralysed. Grief was a cruel, heavy boot pressed so hard against his chest that he could not breathe. Grief took him out of his body, made his injuries theoretical."

"‘The university doesn’t own me.’ ‘Bah. The university gave you everything.’ ‘The university ripped us from our homes and made us believe that our futures could only consist of serving the Crown,’ said Robin. ‘The university tells us we are special, chosen, selected, when really we are severed from our motherlands and raised within spitting distance of a class we can never truly become a part of. The university turned us against our own and made us believe our only options were complicity or the streets. That was no favour, Sterling. It was cruelty. Don’t ask me to love my master.’"

"She had chosen to let him die. This did not hurt as much as it should have. Rather, it clarified things; the stakes before them, the insignificance of their lives against the cause they’d chosen. He saw her begin to apologize, and then catch herself – good, he thought; she had nothing to be sorry for, for between them only one had refused to break."

"And Oxford at night was still so serene, still seemed like a place where they were safe, where arrest was impossible. It still looked like a city carved out of the past; of ancient spires, pinnacles, and turrets; of soft moonlight on old stones and worn, cobbled roads. Its buildings were still so reassuringly heavy, solid, ancient and eternal. The lights that shone through arched windows still promised warmth, old books, and hot tea within; still suggested an idyllic scholar’s life, where ideas were abstract entertainments that could be bandied about without consequences. But the dream was shattered. That dream had always been founded on a lie. None of them had ever stood a chance of truly belonging here, for Oxford wanted only one kind of scholar, the kind born and bred to cycle through posts of power it had created for itself. Everyone else it chewed up and discarded. These towering edifices were built with coin from the sale of slaves, and the silver that kept them running came blood-stained from the mines of Potosí. It was smelted in choking forges where native labourers were paid a pittance, before making its way on ships across the Atlantic to where it was shaped by translators ripped from their countries, stolen to this faraway land and never truly allowed to go home. He’d been so foolish ever to think he could build a life here. There was no straddling the line; he knew that now. No stepping back and forth between two worlds, no seeing and not seeing, no holding a hand over one eye or the other like a child playing a game. You were either a part of this institution, one of the bricks that held it up, or you weren’t."

"Power did not lie in the tip of a pen. Power did not work against its own interests. Power could only be brought to heel by acts of defiance it could not ignore. With brute, unflinching force. With violence."

"‘Oh, don’t you judge me.’ His lip curled. ‘Righteous Letty, brilliant Letty, should have been at Oxford except for the gap between her legs—’ ‘You disgust me.’ Lincoln only laughed and turned away. ‘Don’t come home,’ she shouted after him. ‘You’re better off gone. You’re better off dead.’ The next morning a constable knocked at their door and asked if this was the residence of Admiral Price, and if he would come with them, please, to identify a body. The driver never saw him, they said. Didn’t even know he was under the cart until this morning, when the horses had a fright. It was dark, it was raining, and Lincoln had been drunk, traipsing across the road – the admiral could sue, as was his right, but they doubted the court would be on his side. It was an accident."

"‘They’re just lying there – Anthony, Vimal, Ramy—’ They hadn’t carted them to the morgue. Hadn’t even covered them. They’d simply left the dead where they’d fallen, bleeding across the bricks and pages, were simply stepping around them on their way to excavate the library. Was this their petty revenge, retribution for a lifetime of inconvenience? Or did they simply not care? The world has to break, he thought. Someone has to answer for this. Someone has to bleed."

"‘They can’t touch us. No one can touch us. They need us too badly.’ And that, the key to Griffin’s theory of violence, was why they might win. They’d finally worked it out. It was why Griffin and Anthony had been so confident in their struggle, why they were convinced the colonies could take on the Empire. Empire needed extraction. Violence shocked the system, because the system could not cannibalize itself and survive. The hands of the Empire were tied, because it could not raze that from which it profited. And like those sugar fields, like those markets, like those bodies of unwilling labour, Babel was an asset. Britain needed Chinese, needed Arabic and Sanskrit and all the languages of colonized territories to function. Britain could not hurt Babel without hurting itself. And so Babel alone, an asset denied, could grind the Empire to a halt."

"How slender, how fragile, the foundations of an empire. Take away the centre, and what’s left? A gasping periphery, baseless, powerless, cut down at the roots."

"Privately, Robin did not want this to end. He would never confess it to the others, but deep down, where the ghosts of Griffin and Ramy resided, he did not want a speedy resolution, a nominal settlement that only papered over decades of exploitation. He wanted to see how far he could take this. He wanted to see Oxford broken down to its foundations, wanted its fat, golden opulence to slough away; for its pale, elegant bricks to crumble to pieces; for its turrets to smash against cobblestones; for its bookshelves to collapse like dominoes. He wanted the whole place dismantled so thoroughly that it would be as if it had never been built. All those buildings assembled by slaves, paid for by slaves, and stuffed with artefacts stolen from conquered lands, those buildings which had no right to exist, whose ongoing existence demanded continuous extraction and violence – destroyed, undone."

"Robin put the bar back into his pocket, took a deep breath, and wondered at the hammering in his veins. He wanted a fight. He wanted to jump down there and bloody their faces with his fists. Wanted them to know exactly what he was, which was their worst nightmare – uncivilized, brutal, violent."

"And if the oppressed came together, if they rallied around a common cause – here, now, was one of the impossible pivot points Griffin had spoken of so often. Here was their chance to push history off its course."

"‘Only it builds up, doesn’t it? It doesn’t just disappear. And one day you start prodding at what you’ve suppressed. And it’s a mass of black rot, and it’s endless, horrifying, and you can’t look away.’"

"‘But that’s precisely the devil’s trick,’ Robin insisted. ‘This is how colonialism works. It convinces us that the fallout from resistance is entirely our fault, that the immoral choice is resistance itself rather than the circumstances that demanded it.’"

"Robin thought he understood now the way that Griffin had once looked at him. This was a failure of nerve. A refusal to push things to the limit. Violence was the only thing that brought the colonizer to the table; violence was the only option. The gun was right there, lying on the table, waiting for them to pick it up. Why were they so afraid to even look at it?"

"‘It was like an exercise in hope,’ she said after a pause. ‘Loving her, I mean. Sometimes I’d think she’d come around. Sometimes I’d look her in the eyes and think that I was looking at a true friend. Then she’d say something, make some off-the-cuff comment, and the whole cycle would begin all over again. It was like pouring sand into a sieve. Nothing stuck.’"

"‘We look so young.’ He marvelled at their expressions. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since they’d posed for that daguerreotype. ‘We look like children.’ ‘We were happy then.’ Victoire glanced down, fingers tracing their fading faces."

"There was no future without Ramy, without Griffin, without Anthony and Cathy and Ilse and Vimal. As far as he was concerned, time had stopped when Letty’s bullet had left the chamber. All there was now was the fallout. What happened after was for someone else to struggle through. Robin only wanted it all to end."

"But it was so hard to look at her now and not see a friend. How could you love someone who had hurt you so badly? Up close, staring her in the eyes, he had trouble believing that this Letty, their Letty, had done the things she had."

"For a moment the three of them only looked at each other. They stood uncertain in the middle of the lobby, an unbalanced triangle. It felt so fundamentally wrong. There had always been four of them; they had always come in pairs, an even set, and all Robin could think of was the acute absence of Ramy among them. They were not themselves without him; without his laughter, his quick, easy wit, his sudden turns of conversation that made them feel like they were spinning plates. They were no longer a cohort. Now they were only a wake."

"She blinked, and suddenly tears traced two thin, clear lines down her face. This was not an act; they knew Letty could not act. She was heartbroken, truly heartbroken. She loved them; Robin did not doubt it; at least she really believed that she loved them. She wanted them safe and sound, only her version of a successful resolution was to put them behind bars. ‘I didn’t want any of this,’ she said. ‘I just want things to go back to the way they were. We had a future together, all of us.’ Robin bit back a laugh. ‘What did you imagine?’ he asked quietly. ‘That we would keep eating lemon biscuits together while this country declared war on our motherlands?’ ‘They’re not your motherlands,’ said Letty. ‘They don’t have to be.’ ‘They do have to be,’ said Victoire. ‘Because we’ll never be British. How can you still not understand? That identity is foreclosed to us. We are foreign because this nation has marked us so, and as long as we’re punished daily for our ties to our homelands, we might as well defend them. No, Letty, we can’t maintain this fantasy. The only one who can do that is you.’ Letty’s face tightened. The truce was over; the walls were up; they had reminded her why she’d abandoned them, which was that she could never really, properly, be one of them. And Letty, if she could not belong to a place, would rather tear the whole thing down."

"‘Guilty,’ he repeated. ‘Guilty, that’s exactly what I am. Ramy told me once that I didn’t care about doing the right thing, that I just wanted to take the easy way out.’ ‘He was right,’ she said fiercely. ‘It’s the coward’s way, you know it—’ ‘No, listen.’ He gripped her hands. They were trembling. She tried to pull away, but he squeezed her fingers between his. He needed her with him. Needed to make her understand, before she hated him forever for abandoning her to the dark. ‘He’s right. You’re right. I know it, I’m trying to say it – he was right. I’m so sorry. But I don’t know how to go on.’ ‘Day by day, Birdie.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘You go on, day by day. Just as we’ve been doing. It’s not hard.’ ‘No, it’s – Victoire, I can’t.’ He didn’t want to cry; if he started crying, then all his words would disappear and he would never manage to say what he needed to. He ploughed through before his tears could catch up. ‘I want to believe in the future we’re fighting for, but it’s not there, it’s just not there, and I can’t take things day by day when I’m too horrified by the thought of tomorrow. I’m underwater. And I’ve been underwater for so long, and I wanted a way out, but couldn’t find one that didn’t feel like some – some great abdication of responsibility. But this – this is my way out.’"

"‘We have to die to get their pity,’ said Victoire. ‘We have to die for them to find us noble. Our deaths are thus great acts of rebellion, a wretched lament that highlights their inhumanity. Our deaths become their battle cry. But I don’t want to die, Robin.’ Her throat hitched. ‘I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be their Imoinda, their Oroonoko. I don’t want to be their tragic, lovely lacquer figure. I want to live.’ She fell against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, rocking back and forth. ‘I want to live,’ she repeated, ‘and live, and thrive, and survive them. I want a future. I don’t think death is a reprieve. I think it’s – it’s just the end. It forecloses everything – a future where I might be happy, and free. And it’s not about being brave. It’s about wanting another chance. Even if all I did was run away, even if I never lifted a finger to help anyone else as long as I lived – at least I would get to be happy. At least the world might be all right, just for a day, just for me. Is that selfish?’ Her shoulders crumpled. Robin held her tight against him. What an anchor she was, he thought, an anchor he did not deserve. She was his rock, his light, the sole presence that had kept him going. And he wished, he wished, that was enough for him to hold on to. ‘Be selfish,’ he whispered. ‘Be brave.’"

"Often, he had thought of death as a reprieve. He had not stopped dreaming of it since the day Letty shot Ramy. He entertained himself with ideas of heaven as paradise, of green hills and brilliant skies where he and Ramy could sit and talk and watch an eternal sunset. But such fantasies did not comfort him so much as the idea that all death meant was nothingness, that everything would just stop: the pain, the anguish, the awful, suffocating grief. If nothing else, surely, death meant peace. Still, facing the moment, he was terrified."

"Tears streamed down Ibrahim’s face. ‘I don’t want to die,’ he whispered. ‘There must be some other – I don’t want to die.’ They all felt the same, a desperate hope for some chance of escape. In these last moments, the seconds weren’t enough. In theory this decision they’d made was something beautiful. In theory they would be martyrs, heroes, the ones who’d pushed history off its path. But none of that was a comfort. In the moment, all that mattered was that death was painful and frightening and permanent, and none of them wanted to die. But even as they trembled, not one of them broke. It was only a wish, after all. And the Army was on its way."

"One minute to six. He loosed a shaky breath. His thoughts flew about, casting desperately for anything to think about that was not this. He landed not on coherent memories but on hyperspecific details – the salty weight of the air at sea, the length of Victoire’s eyelashes, the hitch in Ramy’s voice just before he burst out into full-bellied laughter. He clung to them, lingered there as long as he could, refused to let his mind go anywhere else."

"Five. Ramy, smiling. Ramy, reaching. Robin placed his hand on the nearest pyramid, closed his eyes, and breathed, ‘Fānyì. Translate.’"

"He thought he’d be scared. He thought he’d be fixated on the pain; on how it might feel when eight thousand tons of rubble collapsed on him at once; on whether death might be instant, or whether it might come in horribly small increments when his hands and limbs were crushed, when his lungs struggled to expand in an ever-tinier space. But what struck him most just then was the beauty. The bars were singing, shaking; trying, he thought, to express some unutterable truth about themselves, which was that translation was impossible, that the realm of pure meaning they captured and manifested would and could not ever be known, that the enterprise of this tower had been impossible from inception. For how could there ever be an Adamic language? The thought now made him laugh. There was no innate, perfectly comprehensible language; there was no candidate, not English, not French, that could bully and absorb enough to become one. Language was just difference. A thousand different ways of seeing, of moving through the world. No; a thousand worlds within one. And translation – a necessary endeavour, however futile, to move between them."

"‘It’s so odd,’ Robin said. Back then they’d already passed the point of honesty; they spoke to one another unfiltered, unafraid of the consequences. ‘It’s like I’ve known you forever.’ ‘Me too,’ Ramy said. ‘And that makes no sense,’ said Robin, drunk already, though there was no alcohol in the cordial. ‘Because I’ve known you for less than a day, and yet . . .’ ‘I think,’ said Ramy, ‘it’s because when I speak, you listen.’ ‘Because you’re fascinating.’ ‘Because you’re a good translator.’ Ramy leaned back on his elbows. ‘That’s just what translation is, I think. That’s all speaking is. Listening to the other and trying to see past your own biases to glimpse what they’re trying to say. Showing yourself to the world, and hoping someone else understands.’"

"But he’d waited for death to come before. He remembered this now - he knew death. Not so abruptly, no, not so violently. But the memory of waiting to fade was still locked in his bones; memories of a stale, hot room, of paralysis, of dreaming about the end. He remembered the stillness. The peace. As the windows smashed in, Robin shut his eyes and imagined his mother’s face. She smiles. She says his name."

"Victoire Desgraves has always been good at surviving. The key, she has learned, is refusing to look back."

"She learned revolution is, in fact, always unimaginable. It shatters the world you know. The future is unwritten, brimming with potential. The colonizers have no idea what is coming, and that makes them panic. It terrifies them. Good. It should."

"She won’t let herself grieve that friendship, as true and terrible and abusive as it was. There will come a time for grief. There will come many nights on the voyage when the sadness is so great it threatens to tear her apart; when she regrets her decision to live; when she curses Robin for placing this burden on her, because he was right: he was not being brave, he was not choosing sacrifice. Death is seductive. Victoire resists."

"Anthony called victory an inevitability. Anthony believed the material contradictions of England would tear it apart, that their movement would succeed because the revels of the Empire were simply unsustainable. This, he argued, was why they had a chance. Victoire knows better. Victory is not assured. Victory may be in the portents, but it must be urged there by violence, by suffering, by martyrs, by blood. Victory is wrought by ingenuity, persistence, and sacrifice. Victory is a game of inches, of historical contingencies where everything goes right because they have made it go right."

To conclude this exhaustively long review, if you have not yet read this book, I 100% recommend it (and The Poppy War trilogy, obviously). Yes, I am biased but trust me, it will be 100% worth your time, there's a reason why I'm biased in the first place. These books have brought so much happiness which is weird because TPW is a grim-dark fantasy book and Babel is a dark academia fantasy book with emphasis on the DARK part into my life, and made my heart so full. Even though it IS a heavy read due to the dark content, topics and themes, and even though they DID make me hysterically cry, sob, and throw up, don't let that discourage you from reading these amazing books. They're truly some of the best books I have ever read.

PLOT - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

WRITING STYLE - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

PAIN ENTERTAINMENT LEVEL- ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

BOOK COVER DESIGN - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

OVERALL BOOK RATING - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[ravysu]

Sannin headcanons and thoughts

The last thing I would like to post for the sannin week. It is still 24.04 here! :D @sannin-central

This is long. Spoiler alert. Mostly Orochimaru, some Tsunade, a little of Jiraiya (because his story is pretty clear and spoken and idk what I can add). Also I recommend to read this meta about Orochimaru, it has influenced me a lot and has some good points. Sorry for any posible grammar mistakes. Also I really should put here a lot of references to the manga or anime but it was something that was piling up for a year and I'm soooooooo lazy. After all, those are just headcanons. Also: Im not excusing Oro's bad stuff here, Im trying to understand the reasons.

Ive already posted some hcs, here, here and here.

1. First if all, the chronology pic of sannin lifetime based on the info i found on naruto wiki and also some statements about wars from this post. It was tough considering what a mess naruto’s chronology is.

2. Sannin story shows what it cost to be a legend. They're like Team 7 but more realistic. Tsunade literally carried the war but left with nothing and developed a ptsd and have problems to just live on. Also anger control issues. I think she can be pretty bossy and stubborn which is not always nice. Jiraiya is the hero of the day but also very idealistic and can ignore some important details in the real word whether its the fight (he always injured during flashbacks maybe because each time he took too much to handle and on the one hand it's heroistic but on the other is a mistake that can lead your team to situations like in that Iwa cave) or your friends issues (I bet he saw what's going on but thought it's fine until Oro actually got red handed and left). He lives in his world and may have problems to get out to see it through someone else's shoes. As for Orochimaru, it seems like he was a normal guy for 20+ years (I mean, he didn't do crazy criminal shit and had something good in him and it was stated somewhere that it was his teammates influence. It is obvious they considered him as a friend, I don't thinks it was for nothing) but we mostly know his darkest side. Despite being a moster he is a human that have empathy and some ordinary human traits (man just decorates every bit of an environment he is in lol).

3. Tsunade was the leader of team Hiruzen.

4. Tsunade sometimes hit Jiraiya for some stupid things he did or said but never touches Orochimaru even if he did something same. Jiraiya complained about it once and almost got another hit.

5. Jiraiya had problematic parents that didn't care about him much and a lot of time he was wandering in the streets.

6. Judging by the look of Oro bangs and hair, he sometimes cut it off. A stress relief huh? And the fact that he doesn't do it now in Boruto..

7. It was shown that Tsunade and Orochimaru was acknowledged before they become a team. Maybe they did just before, or maybe some longer time before. I prefer the second option and hc that they met because both had no real friends - Orochimaru seemed weird and scary for everyone and Tsunade was Senju so everyone wanted to hang out with her but didn't really care. They weren't seen as what they were - people put the labels on them. But they didn't care about each other's labels and actually saw each other in true lights.

8. Tsunade knew it was an accident and it's not right but still she blamed Orochimaru for Nawaki's death for some time. It was something that seriously damaged their friendship and the team. Orochimaru was mad but also guilty, after all, he was responsible at least as a shinobi since Nawaki was under his watch. So he started to act cold and emotionless and was trying to distance himself from his teammates.

9. Jiraiya was in Ame while Dan died.

10. The whole his orphans mission was a bit irresponsible tbh. They already fought Hanzo and as he stated the conflict between Konoha and Ame is going to an end with Konoha's win. It's weird to stay here for three years in the middle of the war while there were other lands to fight. He left his teammates for some idea. Maybe that caused another crack in their team friendship.

11. If Tsunade would have find a way to live on with her trauma and follow the will of fire and stuff it would affect Orochimaru as well just as her grief affected him. It's like he would get an example that you can live on with this pain. So death isn't above human capability and we are not just the slaves of mortality (sounds stupid but i dont know how else to describe sorry). But as we know what he actually saw is that it broke her crucially to the point she couldnt be herself again. And so the death is above everything.

12. Oro wasn’t just acting as a cold pragmatic bitch in that cave but also tried to save Tsunade. Jiraiya knew it and that’s why he showed this sign to him like "I see what youre doing here" and that stunned Oro because he would prefer to look rather like a cold pragmatic bitch hehe

13. Just a thought. People in the village probably treated Oro as a foreigner or just wouldnt accept him because he looked so differently and had a weird attitude. That's why he sometimes didn't feel that Konoha is his home. After the wars where people were treated as means and tools, even the children, he himself developed this view on people - he dehumanized them and used as the means to his goals, just as his village did. Funny thing some people were straightly dehumanizing him too like Ibiki thought that he was a demon (tho he was a child). And he probably weren't the only one. Anyways the point is that it's logical that Orochimaru don't care about anybody but some few people, he's the product of his era. He's like Naruto that would chose the hatred way. But naruto had some good and understanding people around him and.. Orochimaru had them too, but match how Iruka treated Naruto and this Hiruzen's "I sAw tHe mAliCe in This cHiLd fRoM tHe BegGinNinG". And oro didn't even have a big ass evil fox in him. sry i hate hiruzen

ANYWAYS the moral of the story is not "go criminal if they hurt you" but always treat people like people. Waving my hand to Kant.

14. The reason why Orochimaru didn't pick some good morals to stick with through the hard times no matter what (like, idk, Jiraiya or Naruto) is because 1) I think he is/was pretty depending on people around him 2) the war fucked him and his friends up too much (Nawaki incident + Tsunade) 3) twisted addictions (though I don't think he's that sadistic, we never saw him torturing randoms just for fun, it was always some science experimental shit. He tends to get fun out of cruelty only when it's personal) that maybe developed as a way to sublimate anger and sadness caused by his parents loss (that's what they share with sasuke - unlicke naruto, they knew their parents and it's other kind of pain. Sasuke developed a revenge issue and Orochimaru - cruelty pleasure which... is kinda the same but less epic and more occasional lol).

15. Speaking of that, Orochimaru cared for Sasuke because he saw himself in him.

16. Oro hold grudges against Hiruzen for not choosing him to be Hokage not only because he was ambitious and/or egoistic, but also because Hiruzen was some kind of a father figure for him and his approval was important tho i doubt he was aware of that. He also probably could tell that Hiruzen was suspicios about him when he was a child and that led to many conflicts and was hurting as well.

17. Tsunade knew things weren't pretty with Orochimaru after the wars but she never expected them to be this bad. During the week that she was given in her arc she thought not only about how much she wants to see Nawaki and Dan again despite how wrong would it be but also was trying to bury all the good memories she had left of Orochimaru so it would be easier to kill him.

18. She poisoned Jiraiya exactly because she knew he would not let her do it. Jiraiya was always hesitant to kill and inclined to forgiveness, while Tsunade, as mentioned by Orochimaru, could be merciless (so much so that he was not surprised when Kabuto suggested that she wanted to use Jira for Edo Tensei).

19. That was one of her traits that scared Jiraiya and fascinated Orochimaru.

20. Remember how Oro grabbed Jiraiya's neck when the latter was trying to cover with hair jutsu? On the snake, in Tsnade's arc. Orochimaru could have easily kill Jiraiya by pulling the sword out of the mouth (arteries are right there) but he didn't. As well as he could kill Tsunade when she was still shaking - just aim for the neck or the heart. Instead, he just injured her lung and kicked her which is not a big deal for the kind of shinoby like her at all.. Also he helped Anko not accidentally kill herself but it would be way much profitable to let her do it. "Orochimaru has no feelings".

21. The reason he suddenly wanted to kill Tsunade instead of forcing her to heal his arms as it was planned (which is weird since it will not going to get him heals and he kinda said that he wouldn't want to kill her just minutes ago) is that not only she refused to help him (he thought he could work it out) but she also prefered the village over him (from his point of view). Out if everyone she was the closest to being able to understand him since the village caused her painful losses too but nevertheless she agreed to be on it's side.

22. He wasn't fighting her back in the end partly because he thought he deserved that. Somewhere deep inside hahah.

23. Tsunade got a fear to develop deep bonds so they probably weren't very close with Shizune (also the way she knocked her down in this hotel.. oh).

24. Orochimaru will be here when she'll die.

25. Orochimaru's eng dub to Tsunade: "I often wondered what it would be like to ring that pretty neck yours". No comments.

26. Orochimaru is either bi/pan or ace. Anything or nothing lmao

27. Hiruzen knew about at least some of the Oro’s illegal experiments and was okay just as he was okay with the Foundation all the time. Because it’s useful. Then he has discovered he went too far OR he knew everything and oro just became too inconvenient because of his methods. The way Orochimaru tells Sasuke about reasons they are well treated as the criminals is based on in his experience with Hiruzen.

28. As you may know the lyrics in Orochimaru’s music theme goes “don’t talk with the silence of the heart”. It was taken from one Indian song that also had lines like “don’t question life too much”, ”pain arose somewhere in the chest”, “don’t speak to the wounds of the heart”. Though I’m not sure 100% because I was translating it with some hindi dictionary with like zero knowledge of hindi

29. I like to think that this “silence of the heart” theme and the fact that he called his village a hidden sound village are somehow connected. The hidden sound is the possible explanation of all things waiting to be listened to but the truth is silent and you know it deep in your heart and it bothers you. The world is silent just like the life is meaningless but people can only hear. *Sigh* anyways

30. Orochimaru’s journey is the one about accepting death. When he saw Karin released her chains while was trying to get to Sasuke he understood that the death is a part of human’s strength.

Can’t wait to feel that everything I wrote is wrong or not enough or stupid and obvious lol. Anyways, it’s something that I wanted to share until I move to some other fandom.

[onceupon]

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY THOUGHTS!

I need to be in like a book club or a show-watching club, one that skews toward hyper-fixation… aka tumblr so here we are.

If you don’t know what happens in Books2/3 then spoiler alert!

This is also easily the most nerdy and excessive thing I’ve posted on this app. I don’t even need anyone to read this I just needed to get all my thoughts out of my head lmao

For starters, I never read TSITP series when I was younger, but my angsty, caught in a love triangle with my guy best friend and his best friend teenage self, would’ve ATE THIS UP. Ahh. It was still so fun reading at 22 and feeling that nostalgia of being a teenager again. So I basically binge-read all 3 books this past week and then immediately binge-watched the series. Let’s dive in.

Initial Reactions

So cringe. But in the best way. Like in a way that really highlights the innate cringiness that comes with going through your teens.

I enjoyed the music choice, but too an extent. I know a lot of people loved it but I kind of felt like they were overdoing it? Using every single song popular on Tik Tok was a bit overkill. I love T Swift though so I’ll make some exceptions.

LOVE Lola Tung. Literally such a perfect fit for the role. Adore her. I saw someone on Instagram say they loved how the cast was on the younger side aka more true to the age that they were playing. Basically they didn’t look like adults playing teens, they actually looked like teens.

I really liked how they chose it to be a series rather than a movie, really letting us marinate with the setting and the characters.

Show vs Books

Since I just read the books before watching, all the details are still fresh in my mind. I know the book will always be different, but I’m used to not watching the movie/show until years later. Since it was back to back for me this time, it was fun being able to pick up on so many little things.

Did anyone else pick up on how they sped up some plot points and repurposed/reinvented others from books 2 and 3? Some of these might be a reach… but it kept me thinking “wait! that’s not supposed to happen yet!” Which makes me all the more excited because Jenny Han definitely has some ideas up her sleeve for the next seasons.

First, introducing the Jeremiah-Conrad love triangle in this season. In the first book, Belly rejects Jeremiah when he confesses his feelings. The entire book she only ever has eyes for Conrad. The love triangle doesn’t start till Book 2.

Second, the necklace!? In the books she finds it in Book 2 (post-breakup, when her and Jer go looking for Conrad), decides to wear it rather than ask about it, and when Conrad sees her and Jere kissing in his car, he demands she take it off and give it back because it’s not hers and he never gave it to her anyways. Which doesn’t even COMPARE to book 3 when he gives it to her on what’s supposed to be her WEDDING DAY to JEREMIAH. Like that was such a pivotal moment of the plot. Belly was really standing her ground after his love confession, but when she saw that necklace and he finally admitted it belonged to her and that he got it for her 16th birthday, she was 2 seconds from folding. While they kept the part where it’s for Belly’s birthday and we got that cute scene where she asks him about it in the shower, it didn’t hold as much weight as it did in the books to me? Maybe they’ll continue incorporating the necklace though and it’ll end up carrying as much meaning.

Next, there were several lines from books 1-3 that they used in season 1 just in a different context. Like when Conrad says “you know I think about you, I just can’t right now.” In the show they use it mid-season after they almost kissed on the Fourth of July. Im nitpicking here but I just loved the original context of the line in the book 😭 At the end, after the whole shit show storm, the cancer secret, the fight, everything, Belly kisses him to comfort him, and he kisses her back. Like come on:

Then Taylor being in the car with Conrad after the skinny dipping fiasco and telling him to let Belly go. Taylor and Conrad didn’t have that convo until book 3, at the house, the day before Belly’s wedding.

Further, while I enjoyed the debutante ball addition, it borrowed some themes from books 2 and 3 which I wonder whether they’ll be repeated or not. Such as the prom in book 2 and the whole idea of actively choosing Jere over Conrad which she never did until book 3.

Lastly, Belly tripping her and Susannah at the Fourth of July part. In the first book, there is no Fourth of July party. Instead we have book 2, everyone is at the summer house for the funeral. Belly sees Conrad for the first time after their breakup and he’s with Aubrey which puts her into a fit of rage, telling him to go to hell and that she hates him, making a scene, and tripping up the stairs as she runs away. That’s when we get her dad coming up to comfort her, assuring her Laurel doesn’t hate her. I think I like this change, for Belly’s sake. It made me so sad for her, how much she regretted it, and I think Jenny Han doesn’t want to make Belly in the show stoop down to that level. BUT, then it led to that drunk, crying apology in the ocean to Conrad which had that boy messed UP. Give and take. I think it’s cool how Jenny Han is repurposing various plot points in a way that’s familiar but entirely different.

Honorable mention: Belly and the deb girls skinny dipping in the show vs. Belly wanting Cam to skinny dip with her in the book and him rejecting her.

Characters

Steven in the show definitely had a much larger role which I loved! In the books, he’s only at the summerhouse for the first half of summer, leaving to go on college tours with his Dad and to study for the SAT. However, that gave us one of my favorite Steven-Belly moments that wouldn’t have happened in the show. Because while show Steven was pretty oblivious, book Steven was well aware how the Fisher boys look at his sister, even though he’d never admit it.

Belly and Conrad in the show were less-aggressive versions of themselves than the books. More mature maybe and… soft? Book Belly was far more childish/dramatic and book Conrad was a MAJOR asshole when he wanted to be. When those two fought in the books they were spitting VENOM. Book Conrad and Belly are 100% The Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift. Screaming? Yes. Fighting? Yes. Kissing in the rain? Yes. So in love they both act insane? Yes times a million.

I thought Jeremiah, Cam, Laurel, and Susannah were all pretty spot on. Aside from the new addition of Jere being bi. And sorry to be a hater, but I really didn’t care about Laurel and Susannah’s side-plot romances in the show. I said what I said.

Fave new moments:

- drunk Belly talking to Conrad while he’s showering

- their little texts

- Taylor being a good friend (redirecting the convo during never have I ever - which btw happened in book 3 when Belly is in college)

Fave moments that stayed true to the book:

- the boys first look at Belly when she arrives

- Conrad touching Belly’s hair when he’s drunk in the car

- the scene where Belly is swimming and tells Conrad to quit smoking

What I missed:

I wish they had done more flashbacks! I felt like the flashbacks in the book did a really good job at showing us the foundations of Belly’s relationships with both Jere and Conrad. Jere being the loyal, fun best friend and Conrad always having a soft spot for Belly, looking out for her in a way that was special. Like this one from when Belly is 10:

I also wish they included the scene in the end, after the final kiss, where it’s Jere, Conrad, and Belly, swimming in the pool and goofing off like little kids after all the sadness, promising each other they’ll always come back to Cousins.

What I can’t wait for in season 2:

- if they don’t show us the flashback scenes of Conrad and Belly’s dates, especially when they snuck away to the beach house in the middle of the night in the dead of winter… I’m suing.

- more of Steven and Belly’s relationship like when Steven came to her room after the prom disaster

- Belly’s drunk apology to Conrad during the summer party

- Laurel ripping Adam a new one for wanting to sell the house

What I hope for season 3:

- I hope they don’t get rid of the Jeremiah cheating plot line. A lot of people think that’s out of character for him, but I really really don’t. Jere is this happy, outgoing, charming kid. And he definitely has the perfect storm of personality traits brewing for being a stereotypical frat boy which he totally is in book 3. Even in book 2, he says if Conrad had admitted his feelings he would’ve stepped aside. But if it had been anyone else, he would’ve tried regardless. Like hello? If they include it, and Belly stays with him, which I think she will because I feel like it’s important to the plot and to her growth after, I’m still gonna scream at Belly for being an idiot. But what can you do.

- Book 3 Belly grew and matured a lot (not 100%, but a noticeable difference from book 1). I already feel like show Belly is pretty mature, but I’m sure we’ll see more growth, which we love because team Belly always.

- Immediately following that with Conrad’s growth. Quit smoking, runs, cooks, mended his relationship with his dad, calls Laurel every week, in med school? Man oh man… can’t wait to see this version of our once self-destructive favorite boy.

- Belly and Conrad’s Christmas at the summerhouse of course

- Conrad admitting to Belly he loves her and that she should be with him 😭😭😭

- hearing Conrad’s POV (if it wasn’t already obvious I am 100% team Conrad)

- and I swear, Jenny Han better not leave us short in series 3 like she did in book 3. All that drama and angst just to get a small little epilogue and a couple letters for Belly and Conrad’s relationship when they finally end up together!? Are we serious. She could’ve at least given us a couple chapters. Anything. We barely got breadcrumbs. At least we know they get married and run off into the ocean in the rain like the adorable beach-kid soulmates they are 😌

If you read the whole thing we’re now best friends.

[pulchrasilva]

I posted 7,600 times in 2022

That's 4,306 more posts than 2021!

409 posts created (5%)

7,191 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lost-in-thought-20

@reaperlight

@funky-writer-man

@mydearboy51

@theimprobabledreamersworld

I tagged 1,965 of my posts in 2022

#ts spoilers - 82 posts

#the owl house spoilers - 77 posts

#sanders sides spoilers - 77 posts

#roleslaying with roman spoilers - 63 posts

#roleslaying with roman - 63 posts

#sanders sides - 60 posts

#rswr spoilers - 54 posts

#the left hand of darkness - 47 posts

#rswr noise - 37 posts

#ask - 29 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#(spoiler alert) you know when zetian just fucking murders uhh oops forgot her name but the tortoise lady (she piloted the tortiose right??)

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Virgil: like i get you're having a bad day but I've been having a bad day for 2 years and I'm not bothering everyone else about it

297 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

#4

Can't wait for Orange to show up and we'll spend a good few episodes terrified of him bc he'll be evil and intimidating and seem to torment Thomas for no reason and then one day he'll let slip that he's secretly a dork with a heart of gold

339 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

#3

Logan will really be like whats an emotion I'm a purely logical and rational being I've never felt an emotion in my life and then turn around and make his voice go all soft because one of the others said they were sad like SIR do you even hear yourself

359 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

#2

Just watched episode 2

(Also Mary deserves the world and Annie is the awesome)

398 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

"Dont worry about it you'll get them next time" "thank you virgil" they're literally best friends 😭

544 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[oozepop]

I received a second strike on my YouTube channel while live streaming.

This one is actually upsetting. I was streaming on YouTube on the night of 12/18/22 (which was a good day, as it was my mom's birthday, as well as my good friend Jom. Also, it was creeping into midnight, so I might be wrong on the exact date, but who cares). I started the night with Dark and Darker with some friends, moved on to Dead by Daylight, and proceeded to end the night with Elden Ring. Germbubble, a chatter and good friend of mine, always posts stuff in chat for me to react to. This time, he sent me a recent OJ Simpson interview. I had the video in the corner while I played Elden Ring, which was taking up the majority of my screen.

I received a flurry of emails pertaining to my YouTube channel, insinuating YouTube is looking right at me within this very short amount of time, including reviewing an appeal (spoiler alert). The first email [from the bottom] is informing me that my stream from earlier in the week was copyright claimed. This is not a strike, but rather YouTube blocking some (or all) of my stream. Very easy action that doesn't harm my channel in anyway. The second email is informing me of the same thing on a different live stream, I believe the one from the morning of 12/18/22 (yes, I stream often and need to touch grass).

The third email is where it gets interesting.

Here, they inform me that my stream is interrupted. This has happened to me before, when I watched a clip of a movie a different chatter, omegabuttwish, sent me, although this first time, it did not result in a strike (spoiler alert). When I stopped watching the clip, my stream went back to normal, albeit some minutes later (the first time, I mean). This time, when I stopped watching the clip after this email, my stream was only returned to normal... briefly.

So, I 'm not exactly sure if I'm interpreting this correctly, but did I get a strike because I had OJ on my screen, and I didn't remove it as soon as I saw this email? Because for a very good amount of time, my stream titled "Elden Ring" was about Elden Ring. This just seems absurdly unfair to me, but I am just but a punished normie. So, I 'm not exactly sure if I'm interpreting this correctly, but did I get a strike because I had OJ on my screen, and I didn't remove it as soon as I saw this email? Because for a very good amount of time, my stream titled "Elden Ring" was about Elden Ring. This just seems absurdly unfair to me, but I am just but a punished normie.

The last email shows that they reviewed my appeal in less than an hour after my strike, and determined that I did, in fact, violate their policy. I guess I should just take this for what it is and do my best going forward. I feel like it's all just so vague and I can't tell when what I'm doing will result in a strike, since sometimes my loose behavior is allowed, and sometimes it's not.

What I think I will do going forward is be very safe. I will record and edit videos in the meantime that will not be uploaded until my first strike disappears on January 24th. From that point on, I will only upload until my second strike disappears on March 19th. I suppose it's possible I stream on YouTube before that date, but if so, it'll be very specific streams with a very specific goal in mind, to ensure I do not get in trouble for some dumb bullshit. I can always just stream on twitter until then, which is kinda weird, but I guess I'll do it.

I'm honestly just upset and discouraged. I can't tell if I just have a dedicated hater, or if I'm an absolute idiot to streaming. Maybe a break is exactly what I need so I can finally focus on my physical and mental health. I want to read more books, write more music, and be more productive with my time. I don't want to stream twice a day anymore to a small audience. My videos get better views anyway. Streaming should be fun, and unless I have a dedicated audience, which I don't anymore, it's not as fun as it used to be. Gaming with friends is fun, and making an audience laugh is fun. If I can build up a new audience, then I would be happy to give them awesome content. For now, I will take it easy and see if I can't make better friends and healthier connections.

Follow me on twitter.com/oozePOPtv for pointless blurbs and possible future streaming.

[businessbois]

I posted 11,120 times in 2021

4978 posts created (45%)

6142 posts reblogged (55%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.2 posts.

I added 3,551 tags in 2021

#mcyt - 1116 posts

#tommyinnit - 890 posts

#dream smp - 581 posts

#stream anon - 197 posts

#dream smp spoilers - 167 posts

#wilbur soot - 147 posts

#tubbo - 144 posts

#dreamwastaken - 115 posts

#mcc - 99 posts

#jack manifold - 95 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#it’s honestly the smart thing to do okay use your resources and if those resources happen a neuroscience major then that’s just how things b

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

i wanna know a week in the life of mother and fatherinnit. like, you come home from a long day of work. in an hour or so, your 17 year old son will go live on his 5 and a half million follower twitch channel. you have this amount of time to watch the tv or vacuum or drill, or else 200 thousand people are going to hear about it. you always know when he starts streaming because there’s one less coke in the fridge and a loudass BOYS coming through the walls. in a half an hour from then, he’s either shouting about dicks or PTSD. you’re not sure which nights you prefer.

the next day, he’s up early. your doorbell rings and your son���s bald teenage dad is at the door talking about something called a gogy. you make a joke about tommy crashing the car. he doesn’t look so amused. you let them go on the promise to not do anything stupid. a few hours later, your son tweets out a picture of him wrestling a bear.  you sigh and hope he doesn’t shred the jeans you bought him.

5627 notes • Posted 2021-06-03 22:29:07 GMT

#4

Sam: “Oh, watch out you might get—” Sapnap: “TOMMY!” Tommy: “SA—SAM! SAM!” Sam: “I’ll let you out. I’ll let you out. I’ll let you out. You’re good. You’re good.” Tommy: “I’m not getting out, I’m stuck. SA—” - Tommy: “—AM! SAM! SA—”

6486 notes • Posted 2021-03-03 22:30:56 GMT

#3

i honestly dont have that much of an opinion on the ‘c!tommy looking like a physical manifestation of claires’ thing, but armorless tommyinnit with a soft bright blue cardigan and butterfly clips being followed shortly behind by all-black wearing badass eryn, eldritch being ranboo, and a super scarred tubbo with heavy furs and nuclear trefoil motifs is a funny as fuck image

6552 notes • Posted 2021-10-23 16:21:30 GMT

#2

i feel like a good amount of people haven’t seen this clip and it’s a damn shame

(context: the dream team side went to tubbo’s jungle base early before the war was set to start and before the l’manburg side was on. tubbo was alerted of this by george getting an achievement in chat. he shoved everything he’d prepared into his enderchest right beforel they got there)

[Tubbo quickly puts diamond armor in his enderchest as he takes damage. He puts the last of it in right before he dies.] Tubbo: “Yep, there we go. We got it all in the chest, boys! We got it in the chest! Oh my god, we actually did it! Take the L! You can’t get jack! You can’t get jack! Ooh, ooh, you wearing your armor? You wearing your armor, are you? Ooh, you wearing your fancy armor, are you? Oh, oh, this is unfortunate. Oh, what, you gonna kill me?” [Tubbo_ was shot by Sapnap using [Sap LazerBeam]] Oh no, have I died again? Oh. Oh, that’s a shame.” [throws harming potions at them and then dies] “Oh, that’s a shame. KEKW, boys. KEKW. The clowns! Absolute clowns. Absolute clowns!” [Tubbo_ was shot by GeorgeNotFound. He respawns and breaks his bed] “Absolute clowns. Go on, you—go on. Kill me. Kill me. Where will I end up, eh? Where will I end up?” [Tubbo_ was slain by Sapnap using [Sapnap’s Schlong]] “Oh?” [He respawns] “And now we’re back at spawn. Onwards to L’Manburg, boys! Onwards to L’Manburg! You think they have crap on us? Oh look, they’re now 12 thousand blocks away and we are going to L’Manburg.”

7442 notes • Posted 2021-04-18 22:41:07 GMT

#1

tommyinnit hit the ground too hard whilst trying to escape dream

tommyinnit was shot by dream

tommyinnit was slain by dream

9152 notes • Posted 2021-03-01 21:56:12 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[mrsgiovanna]

Evanesce (Giorno Giovanna x Ghost!Fem! Reader)

This was quite a specific request from a nonnie mouse🥺 . This is a bit angsty, I hope I was able to do your request justice my sweet, 💖💕❤️🐞

TW: mentions of death, part 5 spoilers

Word count: 2.1k

The gentle, crisp spring breeze softly rustled the leaves of the tree overhead, dislodging a few, which fell about the handsome young man occupying the bench you had sat on daily for the past 6 months. You weren’t upset or anything like that, you were just a creature of habit and that spot provided the best vantage point of your surroundings.

“Excuse me, are you saving this seat for anyone?” The blonde boy briefly looked up at you, shook his head sharply and returned to what he was reading as you took a seat on the other side of the bench, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. He furrowed his well-defined brows at the page he was currently perusing and finally resigned, snapping his book shut in one swift motion.

“What are you reading? Well were reading…” he scanned your face pensively before answering.

“Catch 22…”

“Ah, Joseph Heller, I’m familiar,”

“Have you read it?

“No… I haven’t got around to it,” you admit shyly.

“you should, it’s quite brilliant actually,”

“Hmm, damned if you do, damned if you don’t… it’s a metaphor for life really, if you think about it,” you knew that feeling all too well, but that was a story for another day. In the time you had spent there you had learned the young man’s name was Giorno Giovanna, and he when he wasn’t a “freelance cab driver” he went to school a few streets away. You both chatted for what felt like a few moments, but in actuality, was the rest of the afternoon. Alerted by the changing colors of the sky as the day had started turning to dusk he had excused himself to make it back to his dorm before dinner. Watching him walk away, you sat there and wondered how different things might have been had you met him earlier.

Giorno was preoccupied with his thoughts too, wondering where you had come from and why he hadn’t seen you before… he had been to that park enough times, and if you frequented it as much as you claimed to have done so, surely he would have come across you before…

“Giorno, a few of us are going to work on the science project in the rec area after dinner, do you want to join?”

“Oh, Lorenzo, thanks for the offer, but I really need to finish this report tonight, sorry,”

“No sweat, catchya later,” the sprightly boy left Giorno to his own devices pondering silently over the events of the day.

Over the next few weeks, Giorno regularly visited the spot in the hopes of running into you, which he did, and slowly you both had learned so much about each other. Favorite foods, music, books, shows… hopes and aspirations… there was never a dull moment when you were around each other, and he had somehow enabled you to find your smile again, while you were certain you had done the same for him. He grew closer to you, connecting on a different level almost… he found himself wanting to spend more time with you than he could afford to, but your company was just too intoxicating. Savoring each smile, laugh and shy sideward glance, you were altogether too lovely, and too unaware of the effect you had on him. As much as you were unaware of his growing affections, so too was he unaware of yours. Falling in love with his wry smile when he teased you over the silly anecdotes you thought up, and the way in which the wind made his lovely, golden hair dance about in the sunshine, your heart both leapt and stung, lamenting the inopportune timing at which you had encountered your possible savior, but still being thankful that you could experience something as pure as this, nonetheless.

As much as you were happy, you remained unfulfilled, having such a specific set of circumstances during which you could interact with Giorno. In the beginning it was much easier, catching him in his quieter moments, but now, those moments barely ever occurred, each time you made a move to get closer to him, your plans were thwarted by his new groups of friends… allies? Watching him rapidly traversing Italy, cheating death at every turn, despite your yearning, you hoped with everything you had that you would not encounter him in your space between the two realms. You weren’t sure what kind of force kept you bound to earth but you knew the reason was because you had yet to truly experience love before your untimely passing. You found it altogether ridiculous and unfair, so many others with regrets much more intense than your own had encountered and passed you as they were finally able to cross over, so why were you still here?

You had wanted to tell him the truth of your semi-existence on so many occasions, but his sweet smile had forced you keep up the pretense, enjoying for once, the feeling of being a teenager with a crush, whether it was something more than that, you were unable to tell. When you hadn’t seen him for a few afternoons, you decided you needed to look for him, remembering where he had gone to school, you saw him in what looked like the throes of a fight near a white haired man, and something that looked nothing like anything you’ve seen before… was it a wraith? A monster? It seemed like the two men also commanded such apparitions, appearing and disappearing, it seemed, according to their will. Suddenly, you felt like the normal one in this scenario, which was rare for you. You knew that what he was going through was bigger than the both of you, and thus began your journey with them, keeping your distance and trying to provide support from your position in the shadows. One by one, you saw his comrades fall, each time grieving with him. When everything was finally over, you resolved to approach him directly, waiting for an opportune moment in between his duties. For now, though, you frequently visited the spot that held so many happy memories for you, knowing what you needed to do.

During his eight-day mission, in his quieter moments, Giorno had found his thoughts drifting back to you. He knew that you probably were there, at the usual spot, looking for him. he wished he could tell you about what he was doing, but the stakes were too high, there was too much to lose and not enough time to work with, so he made up his mind to find you once everything was over, but for now, he was on a mission that he could not back down from. There were moments during which he could have sworn he saw your silhouette from the corner of eye, smelled the pleasant scent he had come to associate you with, but those moments could not be dwelled on with how much was left to do and the unyielding assault from Passione’s elite.

With the battle being won, and his precious allies laid to rest in the manner they deserved, Giorno’s thoughts returned to you once more. Deciding he had avoided the place enough, he went the rendezvous spot, without any of his guards. He was confident in the ability of his stand to protect him from danger, the requiem arrow safely ensconced in his breast pocket if the need arises for him to use it. Seeing you perched under the tree, you cut a forlorn figure.

“(y/n) …”

“Giorno… oh gosh! I didn’t expect to see you here today…” you were taken aback by the sight of him, looking completely different in his black suit, embodying an entirely unapproachable, otherworldly beauty, but somehow the energy he radiated still felt warm and familiar.

“You’re probably wondering where I’ve been all this time… I’ll explain everything,” he intended to take your hand in his, but you flinched, deepening the grimace on his face.

“Cara, I’m sorry, I know you must be upset with me, as you should be, but if you allow me a chance to explain, you would understand, please…”

“It’s okay Gio… I know everything… please, sit down, there’s something I have to tell you,” with confusion replacing his pained grimace, Giorno sat down and looked at you expectantly.

“I know about everything that happened to you Gio, I was right there. The reason I recoiled from your touch, or never took you up on a coffee date is because I no longer exist in this world… my physical body has already perished Giorno,”

“April fools has already passed (y/n) and Halloween is only in October… either way, it’s still a terrible joke, not funny at all,” Giorno tried in vain to conceal his irritation.

“It’s not a joke Giorno, have you ever wondered why the area becomes deserted when we’re interacting? How I can disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye? I’m already dead… I’ll prove it to you,” in an instant, you had disappeared and the people had magically appeared in the distance. With his eyes locked on those, he suddenly saw them vanish again as you appeared.

“I don’t understand… where are we then?”

“This is the dimension I exist in, half way between the two realms. My soul refuses to pass over, being bound by a regret,”

“What regret? If you’ve been with me this entire time, surely you know my ability, and of the other ghost that inhabits the turtle… there must be something we can do,”

The desperation in his voice hurt you, you knew that he meant well, but you couldn’t allow him to live like this, being bound to someone who didn’t really exist. In the time you had observed him fighting for his life and for those around him you realized that regardless of how much you both would try, nothing would materialize from these interactions, so you made the painful decision to not pursue this any further, regardless of how much it may hurt you both.

“Face it Gio, there’s no way that anything can happen here, and hanging on to this is just going to hurt the both of us…”

“Don’t say it…”

“Giorno, this is going to be the last…”

“Please, (y/n), don’t say it. I already know… it’s just like me though… the first girl I fall in love with turns out to be a ghost… yet another one of my bizarre escapades… (y/n) … you’re glowing,”

You looked down at your hands and body, seeing a warm cerise glow taking over your body, you felt odd, -weightless- as if you would float away… and then you realized what Giorno had said to you. He loved you, actually loved you, and this was your moment of ascension. After all these months, finally, you would get your repose.

“I think it’s time, you’ve given me something precious, something I can’t even begin to return. I’m finally able to rest because of you…”

“Falling in love hey? Usually a declaration like this is supposed to awaken the princess, not send her away…” he said dejectedly, knowing well enough from recent events, that a spirit cannot remain longer than intended regardless of how much you willed it to.

Reaching up to try and cup his cheek as your image grew ever fainter, “Giorno, these past few weeks have allowed me to feel things in death that I couldn’t have even imagined when I was alive. You’re the reason I can finally rest, and I’ll always be thankful to you, I know you’ll be happy and will love again, all your dreams will be realized, I love you Gio,”

With a sorrowful smile, he watched you fading away from his sight, a warm gentle breeze swirling the loosened leaves around him, and just like that you were gone. Being unable to speak after what happened, he just sat for a while to gather his thoughts before returning to his life as the don of Passione.

It has been a few years since your final encounter with Giorno just before your ascension. Over the years you still watched him, this time from your vantage point above him as opposed to lurking beside him. Your spirit was at ease as he grew from strength to strength, realizing his dream, with a resolve that only he possessed. You watched as he matured, confidence growing in leaps and bounds… as he fell in love- again- just like you promised he would. She was perfect for him, the ray of sunshine he needed to compliment his golden soul. You smiled knowingly, the young man whose pure feelings granted respite to your soul, would be just fine, and even though it may have felt as if you had faded away on that fateful day, the memories of you will always live on through him, adding gravity to your existence- ironically, his memories of the beautiful ghost who had captivated him, would serve as evidence that you had lived…

[queermediastudies]

“A Queer Who Cares” : The Intersection of Class and Queerness in Tokyo Godfathers

Tokyo Godfathers is a Japanese animated film, made in 2003, that follows the adventures of three homeless friends on Christmas Eve in Tokyo, Japan. Throughout the movie, we follow Hana, a transwoman and former drag queen, Gin, a middle-aged man with a gambling addiction, and Miyuki, a teenage runaway, as they find a baby in a trash can and spend Christmas Day trying to reunite the child with her mother. A comedic adventure quickly ensues, as the chaotic but loving trio, do their best to take care of their new baby, solve the mystery of her appearance, and all the while combat the dangers and prejudices that come with being homeless. Though predominantly a comedy, the film also strays away from its humorous tone and delves deep into the characters’ complex backstories, emotionally exploring the myriad of reasons why Hana, Gin, and Miyuki are homeless and why getting the baby back to her mother is so important for each of them. Directed by the famous Satoshi Kon and loosely based on the 1913 novel “The Three Godfathers”, the film explores themes of parenthood, found families, classism, transphobia, and addiction, and illuminates the complex ways in which these forces interact and impact daily life. In essence, Tokyo Godfathers effectively explores themes of transphobia and the intersection of classism and queerness, and though not entirely unproblematic, is unique and powerful in its complex characterization of both Hana as a character and the oppressions she faces as a transwoman who is homeless. 

(Hana speaking about her desire to be loved)

Before beginning, it is important to note that the following analysis is of the 2020 English dubbed re-release of Tokyo Godfathers by GKIDS. As of now, there are many fan-subbed versions of the film circulating on the internet that misgender Hana in their subtitles. The GKIDS re-release does not so I will not be addressing that form of transphobia in my analysis. Similarly, in the original Japanese version, Hana is voiced by a man, and the fluctuations of her voice, from high and feminine when she is happy, to low and masculine when she wants to be intimidating, is present and follows a very transphobic trope in comedy. In the GKIDS dubbed version, Hana is voiced by Shakina Nayfack, a transwoman, actress, and activist, and these vocal fluctuations are not present so, once again, I will not be addressing that form of transphobia, as it was not present in the updated version that I watched.

How Shakina Nayfack used her voice to reclaim trans representation in animation

(A short article on Shakina Nayfack, the English voice actress for Hana in the 2020 GKIDS re-release)

Though Tokyo Godfathers does not have the popularity or mainstream attention to be considered a breakout text, it’s humanizing and complex characterization of Hana breaks traditional transphobic tropes, particularly in comedy, that lends itself to “creat[ing] small cracks in the glass ceiling of cultural consciousness and makes room for future breaks” (Cavalcante, 2017, p. 4). Hana is the main protagonist of the film. She is both the center of comedic relief, the leader of her found family and the driver of the plot as a whole. It is through her desire to fulfill her dream of becoming a mother, and her desperate need to understand why parents abandon their children (as her parents did to her), that motivates her, and in turn, her friends, to find the child’s parents themselves, instead of going to the police. It is in this complexity that Hana, “breaks historical representation paradigms” of both trans characters and queer characters as a whole (Cavalcante, 2017, p. 2). In her desperate search to love and be loved, Hana is immediately humanized, her identity centered in love and family, and not in her gender or sexuality, as so many queer characters are. In addition, she is not portrayed as “sexless” as is the norm for queer characters, wherein they can exist in media as long as their love stories and intimate desires do not. Though very subtle, Hana is the only character in the movie that has a love interest, Gin, and she had a boyfriend, who died, but is still a key part of her characterization. Though these love stories are not centered in the film, they are the only ones in the movie, and this exclusive existence, unique to Hana, illustrates their importance to both the themes of the movie and Hana’s character.   

(Miyuki asks Hana about her feelings for Gin)

(A photo of Hana and her ex-boyfriend Ken at the club she once worked at)

That is not to say that the queer representation in this film is by any means perfect. As mentioned, the movie is a comedy and thus falls into the historical “preponderance of these representations occurring in the comedy”, especially given that  Hana is the comedic center (Dow, 2001, p.130). Even more so, there are instances in which Hana’s trans identity is stereotyped and used as the joke itself. In one scene, she flirts with a cab driver knowing that he is uncomfortable by the fact that she is a trans woman, and his transphobia is framed as comedic. She also has a very flamboyant personality, with sharp emotional highs, and equally dramatic lows, that once again plays into stereotypical representations of transwomen as over-the-top and overly dramatized to the point of ridiculousness. In line with this, her previous line of work was as a drag queen, and though scenes of her in the drag community are dominated by a sense of love and community, it still plays into already established tropes of transwoman living as a performance. In these ways, her representation at times leans towards the role of the “clown...putting on a show for The Other” where it is “never quite clear whether we are laughing with or at this figure” (Hall,1995, p. 22).  However, as mentioned above, Hana’s complex and nuanced backstory, combined with her frequent acts of heroism and her leadership role, make it so she is deeply humanized. Though her dramatic personality falls into these stereotypical tropes at times, it does not detract from her character arc of motherhood and finding love, a nuance that is missing from many stories of trans women in media.  

(As pictured, Hana’s emotions are very dramatized and quickly jump from very high to very low)

This nuance is heightened through the intersection of classism and queerness, which is an equally prevalent theme throughout the film. In particular, class struggles are illustrated through medical care. At one point, Hana falls ill, and Gin is forced to give away his life savings in order to pay for her treatment. It is also here where Hana’s gender identity is questioned, as the hospital houses her in the men’s ward, and she explains that she “is not pleased with this”. This particular intersection of class and queerness within a medical setting is impactful given the long and “oppressive role of medicine in trans people’s lives” (Keegan, 2016, p. 607) and the strong tendency of media to tell trans folks stories, about both life and transition, in a way that is medicalized. For Hana, the discrimination she experiences at the hospital, and her inability to pay for her treatment, illustrate the violence of intersecting oppressions of queerness and homelessness in medical systems, while also straying away from the problematic representation of trans folks that are centered around a rhetoric of medicalization. More visually, the family is also a key illustrative example of how class and queerness are explored. The trio is constantly visually contrasted with traditional Japanese families in a variety of settings. This harkens back to ideas of “alternative forms” of families that queer folks create and this difference is visually exasperated by the trio’s homelessness, making them stand out in whatever space they are in (Keegan, 2016, p. 607).

(An angel asks Gin if he would rather have her magic or an ambulance. He chooses the ambulance.)

(Hana in the hospital. The subtitle reads “This ward, it’s the men’s isn't it?”)

(One of many scenes where the trio is set up in  familial positions)

As a queer, white woman living in the United States my subject positionality had a great effect on how I consumed the movie. Most notably, I was born and raised in Western society, and given that this film is Japanese and made for Japanese audiences, there is a variety of cultural norms and perceptions that I did not pick up on because of my lack of familiarity with them. In the same vein, I watched this movie translated into English and, as with every translated work, there are words and subtle, yet important, nuances in the language that were very likely lost to me as a viewer. My identity as a queer woman made it so that I was drawn to Hana as a character and was very moved by her deep desire to be a mother. The movie is steeped in images of Hana and her friends encompassing the idea of a non-traditional family, and since I would love a family of my own one day and I expect that to look different than the dominant nuclear family norm, I really focused my experience on the variety of nontraditional families that this movie shows, all of them as loving as the next.

(Hana and her drag mother reuniting)

(Hana and her family)

As a whole, Tokyo Godfathers, though not without its faults, is a refreshing take on the traditional feel-good Christmas movie trope, delving into class and queerness, and using the two to explore what it really means to be a family that is loving and kind. Spoiler alert, that family looks a little something like one ex-drag queen, one man with a gambling addiction, a teenage runaway who loves cats, and their baby they found in a dumpster.  

Sources

Dow, Bonnie (2001). “Ellen, Television, and the Politics of Gay and Lesbian Visibility.” Critical Studies in Media Communication 18(2), 123-140. 

Cavalcante, Andre (2017). “Breaking into Transgender Life: Transgender Audiences’ Experiences With ‘First of Its Kind’ Visibility in Popular Media.” Communication, Culture & Critique, 1-18. 

Keegan, Cáel (2016). “Tongues without Bodies: The Wachowskis’ Sense8.” Transgender Studies Quarterly 3(3–4), 605-610. 

Hall, Stuart (1995). “The Whites of their Eyes: Racist Ideologies and the Media,” in Gender, Race, and Class in Media 3rd ed., pp. 18-22. 

[saranghanuuu]

PERKS OF DATING A YOUNGER GUY I LEARNED AFTER WATCHING CHINESE DRAMA FIND YOURSELF + REVIEW!

1. He has less baggage

This means that he has more time to attend to your needs and wants unlike an older guy with a demanding schedule and lots of responsibilities at hand.

2. He's more open-minded and adventurous

They are open to having new experiences and won't judge you for veering off the path you should stay on.

3. He's infectiously energetic *ehem*

Need I say more? A younger guy's youthful sense will surely find unimaginable ways to impress you!

4. He puts you on a pedestal

A younger man will appreciate your maturity and experiences and will admire you for it. They're also most likely take advice from you without letting it bruise their ego.

5. He'll make you feel young

Be prepared to relive the fun parts of your younger years with him.

It's not so wrong to say that the May-December relationship is taboo, especially among Asians. Most people I know had this inkling that when a younger guy hooks up with a woman way older than him, it could prolly mean one of two things — the guy's a paramour or she's a sugar momma. I'm honestly not a fan of it either on the premise that women mature faster than men. Let's be real, an immature relationship is a disaster. But now that I'm in my late 20s, and a hopeless romantic single at that, I kinda pondered over this. It suddenly occurred to me, what if one day I’m caught up in the position of being pursued by a younger man? Will I let the stigma affect me emotionally? Or will I take the risk ‘coz all is fair in love? I still don’t have a definite answer to this question. However, watching Find Yourself served as an eye-opener for me to look at things from a different perspective.

Find Yourself is a 2020 Chinese drama starring Song Wei Long and Victoria Song. It tells the story of a 32-year old Executive Director who never *even once* experienced dating. Given her age and career stability, she receives constant pressure from the people around her to find someone to marry and has since frequented blind dates arranged by her family, friends, or colleagues. But this girl is just someone who swears by the "spark" - no spark, then no point to the relationship. She may be old for fantasizing over first love and such, but she still yearns that it'll naturally come to find her someday. Until her thirst for real romance is quenched by a 22-year-old guy who started working as an intern in her company at his brother’s request.

Although hesitant at first due to their huge age difference and the societal views, she went out with him on the condition that they'll keep it a secret for the first 3 months. If everything went well, she agrees to publicize her relationship with him.

Let’s start off with the good things...

I just can't with this drama...! This so beautiful, cute, relatable - especially for a woman in late 20s like me. 

Plot-wise, it was well-imparted and makes perfect sense, touching a looooooot of relationship aspects in 41 episodes. Not only did I enjoy the happenings between our main couple, but our side couples' stories are very interesting too.

This drama pretty much straightened out my prejudice about age-gap relationships.

Light-hearted, just the way I like it! Every episode will make you smile and/or laugh hard.

Sexual tensions overload and superb kissing scenes! Let those hormones rush in. Not awkward to watch 'coz They. Did. Not. Hold. Back. Ack! If you're single, be prepared to feel MORE SINGLE watching this drama.

Well-written lines that will make you feel real emotions. The words will shoot you straight to the heart.

Acting-wise, the casts, from the mains down to the sides, did a super fine job in conveying the sentiments of their characters. My highest admiration goes to male lead Yuan Song, not (only) because he’s young, hot, and handsome, but because his youthful vibe made me reminisce the paradox of my early 20s awww. Anyways, in the beginning, I am sort of confused why (of all girls) he fell head over heels with our female lead He Fanxing who's obviously out of his league. I even suspected him of taking advantage of her naivety in matters of the heart. But as the drama went along, our dude proved himself genuine... That he's sincerely just a guy who's deeply in love with a woman... That indeed, true love can exist in this kind of relationship. Both Yuan Song and Fanxing emotionally benefited from each other and it's so lovely seeing that.

⚠️ AND SORRY BUT THIS IS A SPOILER ALERT⚠️

Halfway through the drama, our main couple called it quits. I'm somewhat grateful that it happened. Their break-up scene is just so powerful I had to rewind it many times. Not because I liked seeing them suffer from the consequences of their incompatibility. Rather, I loved it 'coz it became the turning point of their relationship.

Their love is premature, to begin with — trust isn't mutual, commitment is one-way, only showing each other's good sides in fear of the relationship turning sour, one is willing to compromise while the other wants to avoid responsibility, filled with doubts and insecurities. During this break-up phase, we were shown the difference between how kids and adults behave and decide in a dilemma. I suddenly remembered this one line delivered in the drama which I agree with — "Only kids would choose one or the other. Adults find solutions". The break-up also served as our main couple's period of contemplation about who and what they want in life. It taught them how to fully embrace their offbeat romance against the norms. Fortunately, things wrapped up into a sweet end.

And of course the bad...

Hmmm... Maybe I'm just not used to it but am I the only one who thinks that this drama is quite lengthy? Yes, I enjoyed it but it's not a good one to binge-watch. It took me almost a month to finish this I nearly drowned haha. Honestly, there were parts they could've just compressed instead of dragging it for too long. One example is Ye Luming and He Fanxing's relationship trial. Ooohhh I hate this part it brought shivers down my spine ugh. Well truth be told, Luming and Fanxing are compatible and better off as friends. They jive so well, and I give it to them that they're both adults who can only understand adult things.

But when Luming all of a sudden became a sneaky character to an intolerable point... Ah, I don't know anymore! Seeing how compelled Fanxing is to being Luming's girlfriend got under my skin. Although these ugly parts eventually became a good contributory factor to Fanxing's realization of her true feelings towards Yuan Song, but still...! I also hated Fanxing at one point for being so gullible in love. But yeah, I had to swallow it because that's her character setup in the first place. It should be expected of her to be hasty and dubious about it.

On the other hand, I wished they've been generous in showing us more about how Yuan Song and Fanxing's relationship is going after the public reveal. I've been waiting for this the entire time (they could've done so much more in 41 episodes' length!) so I'm quite disappointed.

After watching the second season of Well-Intended Love, I admit I lost interest in Chinese dramas. So watching this restored my faith in them. I even have a list of C-dramas lined up now! But I have to move on from this one first before I start another. It's not as easy as I thought ㅠㅠ

What do you think about this drama? Are we on the same frequency? ❤️

If you haven't watched this yet, watch it now. As in 지금부터 RIGHT NOW. Highly-recommended!