#they’re from the same province as me

[victoriouscabaret]

Happy Wednesday (especially to these upstanding Nazi-punchers 🇨🇦🥰)

(Satisfying context here)

[chikatilosgirl]

I think I’m gonna start drawing Heaven x Vernon now lol nobody really likes my Ilnaz x Heaven art anyway and I’ve actually gotten anon hate over that shit lol

[aliosne]

My mother tells a lot of stories and admittedly my memory is undependable but every now and then she’ll start an anecdote like “as I’m sure you’re tired of me saying” as tho it’s going to be the most boring fact ever conceived and then drop “i met Tommy Douglas multiple times as a child”

[elodieunderglass]

Why are jockeys not supposed to look at smartphones?? will it make them heavier

No, of course not!

It’ll make them criminals

This is in reference to something I mentioned about a prominent female jockey leaving the sport over breaking smartphone usage rules. Nanako Fujita, who raced for Japan, was an excellent jockey with a promising career and international prospects. She was lucky, talented, and in a sport that’s starving for public interest, popular. But she used her smartphone on a weekend, so on October 2024 she tearfully penned her resignation letter and left the sport.

Now, this is slightly more about Japanese sporting authorities than general horse racing practice, but it’s embedded in the idea that jockeys are inherently just such unscrupulous little bastards that they can only be prevented from cheating by locking them in hamster cages.

Going back to how horse racing is historically the province of organised crime, disorganised crime, chaotic crime, things that aren’t crimes but should be, crimes that haven’t been invented yet, and felonies; and given that it all happens for the amusement of billionaires and royalty, not noted for being generous and scrupulous; and given that - much like how claiming a hobby of “knitting” is really a cover story for collecting yarn - horse racing is really an excuse to gamble;

Given all that background - there’s always been a lot of anxiety about jockeys “fixing” races. After all, they’re historically treated as disposable and make inconsistent and indifferent money while entire fortunes are wagered on their backs they’re in an obvious position to influence race outcomes, and there are unbelievable amounts of money at stake.

Thus, the sport feels that we have to assume that jockeys are simply inherently susceptible to bribery. In the UK, jockeys can’t bet on any races and have to declare their mobile phone numbers to the horse racing authority, and have restrictions placed on where/how/what they can use smartphones for around the tracks. They can’t bring a phone to work, basically. Which isn’t too unusual in some professions. The idea is that jockeys with phones could communicate with each other or outsiders to change racing outcomes, or share information in advance before it can impact on the betting odds (like insider trading on the stock market.) this is not commonly practiced in other UK sports. It’s a working condition imposed by anxiety about preserving the integrity of the gambling.

The Japanese licensing authority is more strict. The night before a race meeting, Japanese jockeys surrender their phones and go into separate quarters without lines of communication. So you might give up your phone at 9pm Friday night, enter a sort of corporate youth hostel, work for 2 days, and recover your phone on Monday. Nanako was caught using her phone during this period of sequestration, even though there’s no evidence that she was using it for race fixing (another jockey caught for the same thing in the crackdown was making a restaurant reservation.) again, this level of control over personal communications isn’t practiced in other Japanese sports! Even Japanese pop idols, famed for having restricted personal lives, don’t risk getting pushed out of their job entirely for touching a phone.

It’s about a lot of things, but the level of control exerted over jockeys is interesting to me! and speaks to their position as athletes who aren’t the focus of the sport they do; of jockeys as the disposable pilots of things that are far more valuable than they are; of workers whose working conditions are unique; of sportspeople whose sport is defined by the anxieties of the rich about gambling; of people whose bodies are ferociously honed for a specific set of rules that don’t even necessarily make sense; of a sport thousands of years old, one of the oldest continuous sports of human history, in which the humans who play it are invisible; of ancient once-immovable traditions colliding, in the 2020s, with renewed interest in animal and human welfare and renewed pressures to Perform for social media and everything changing in ways we can’t see because we’re in the middle of them. Like when I say “one of the oldest continuous sports in human history”, as old as the domestication of horses, think about it for a minute and think how strange it is that the human athletes are this invisible, this disposable, this secondary to considerations. Why is it that you’ve been forced to learn about football against your will all your life, and you never thought for a second about this. Isn’t that wild? I think it’s wild.

(Disclaimer: I’m really not an expert, just a mild fan, which is a bit unusual for my demographic; despite the sport being ancient and internationally known, it isn’t very relatable to “people like us,” so this is kind of the first time anyone on tumblr’s really posted about having an interest in horse racing/jockeys. I’m really not an expert and I barely follow the news and do NOT attend races or understand the stats/gambling. It’s just that it was my first career ambition when I was 6, and it’s one of those things where literally no one else cares, so you get to feel like you have Secrets and a Unique OC.)

[petermorwood]

I know what “Superdickery” thinks is funny about this: a couple of words in the title and the introduction - because of course writers in 1942 should have known how their secondary meaning would become the primary one in half a century and thus good for a giggle. See TVTropes “Have A Gay Old Time” for many, many more examples.

However, for me the facepalm bit is:

“Our story begins near the ancient castle of Connaught in County Ulster, Ireland…”

Because that shows some seriously lousy geography which could have been fixed by consulting a school-level atlas.

Castles have place-names, yes - Windsor Castle, Dublin Castle, Stirling Castle, Caernarvon Castle etc. - but they’re the names of the town or city where the castle was built.

Connaught isn’t and never was a town or city. It’s an ancient kingdom, 1/5 of an entire country, and the smaller names on this historic map are clan-lands within the kingdoms.

It’s now a modern province, ¼ of an entire country, still not a town or city, still without a castle, and though there actually is a “Connaught Castle”, it’s a hotel. And it’s in India.

(ETA: Or was - the link’s now an archive.)

Ulster isn’t a county either. It’s another province, and the smaller names on this modern map are the counties.

In terms of accuracy, then, “Our story begins near the ancient castle of Connecticut in County Massachusetts, America…”

Which would be an amusing way to start a story, now I think about it, with that level of un-research maintained throughout.

*****

Side-Note: I thought the prince looked familiar. 

A character in that same pose appears here:

…and both originate with this still shot of Errol Flynn in “The Sea Hawk” (1940).

One more bit of trivia from The Mind Attic.

;->

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapters 16, 17, 18, & 19

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Now those sentries flanked them. They were a permanent independent military garrison, the finest chosen from each of the provinces with scrupulous neutrality to serve a two-year term. They lived in the complex of supporting outbuildings, filling the barracks and the gymnasiums, where they slept and woke and trained with immaculate discipline. It was a soldier’s greatest honour to compete in the yearly games and be chosen from the best to serve here, to uphold the strict laws.

this feels like a parallel to akielion slavery, in a way? these are supposed to be some of the most honorable and strong people in the society, yet they’re subjugated in much the same way as slaves

‘You were jealous.’ ‘My father said that I had to learn to lead, not to follow.’

ongoing “kingdom or this” theme, choosing between being a indomitable ruler and being a vulnerable human person. damen has been on both extremes, a prince and a slave, and he needs to find something in the middle.

‘That’s Kydippe, she was Queen before Euandros. She took the throne from King Treus and averted civil war.’

hooray for women!

‘He looks like you.’ Thestos was carved in outline, holding a giant piece of masonry aloft. Laurent touched his bicep, then touched Damen’s. Damen let out a breath.

laurent is treasuring the last few moments he has with damen :(

‘These petulant remarks have never suited you. The mannerisms of a boy sit so unattractively on a man.’

not going to be a lot of analysis here. we all know how fucked up this guy is. in a way, the regent is the simplest character in the entire series.

‘You know, Nicaise really thought you would help him. He didn’t know your nature, that you’d abandon a boy to treason and death out of petty spite. Or was there some other reason you killed him?’

says the regent, who killed nicaise

'After all, you are an Akielon. There must be satisfaction to be had in getting the Prince of Vere under you. He is unpleasant, but that would barely register when you are rutting.'

“you like it simple” weaponized against damen

“you like it simple” weaponized against damen ‘He has freed Jokaste, because he knows that I would never trade a tactical advantage for a whore.'

there’s that misogyny we heard about

'And he has come here to give himself up for the child. He doesn’t even care whose child it is. He just knows it’s in danger,'

nicaise. just nicaise

‘He has knelt for me.’ The Regent said it in a calm, matter-of-fact voice, so that it didn’t penetrate at first. It was just a collection of words.

“it was just a collection of words” i have a feeling that this is how damen has avoided figuring it out sooner. intentionally not making inferences or connections, even if the words are being said. it’s similar to the way he probably suspected laurent of knowing the truth about him, but disregarded indicative phrases or foreshadowing. but now he has no choice but to understand.

In the panting silence of the hall, one of the kneeling sentries rose and began to speak. ‘You have drawn your sword in the Kingsmeet.’ Damen’s eyes locked on the Regent’s. Nothing mattered but a promise. ‘I’m going to kill you.’ ‘You have broken the peace of the hall.’ Damen said, ‘The moment you laid your hands on him, you were dead.’ ‘The laws of the Kingsmeet are sacred.’ Damen said, ‘I will be the last thing that you see. You will go to the ground with my blade in your flesh.’ ‘Your life is forfeit to the King,’ said the sentry.

really good writing here. love how it alternates between damen’s single-minded anger and the situation around him, using only the dialogue instead of environmental or emotional prose

Unlike Damen, it had only taken one of the Kingsmeet soldiers to restrain Laurent, his arms forced behind his back, his breathing shallow.

“the weaker man”

‘No,’ said Damen. ‘You heard what he did.’ Roughened, it came out of him. ‘You all heard him, are you going to let him do this?’

i think it’s really interesting and ironic that the people enabling this are supposedly the most honorable in the country. damen has given vere so much shit for its debauchery throughout the series and has regarded akielos as morally pure because it “treats its slaves well.” he’s figured out that he was wrong about most of this already, but this might put the final nail in the coffin. the worst thing imaginable, to the point that damen actively avoided entertaining the notion of it, is not condemned by the akielon justice system. the law protects the regent and punishes damen here, even though the regent is a terrible person and damen is doing the right thing. also cool how this foreshadows attorney damen.

‘Come, nephew,’ said the Regent. They went.

don’t need to analyze laurent here. i’ve already done it in chapters that foreshadow this moment. just going to quarantine it to the page and move on

‘I know you felt something for him. If you are going to be sick, do it quickly. We have to go. There will already be men coming to find us.’

shut the fuck up nikandros

Through the haze he heard Jord’s voice. ‘You left him? You saved your own life and left him with his uncle?’

shut the fuck up jord

Jord said, ‘You coward, you left him to—’ The words were abruptly cut off as Nikandros took hold of Jord and slammed him back against the wagon. ‘You will not speak that way to our King.’

shut the fuck up nikandros and jord

Released, Jord was panting slightly. ‘He wouldn’t have come back alone. If you think that, you don’t know him.’

damen never said that he did

What would Laurent do? He knew what Laurent would do. Stupid, mad Laurent had sacrificed himself. He had used the last piece of leverage he had: his own life. But Damen’s life was valueless to the Regent.

and laurent’s life is valueless to laurent. but clearly not to jord or damen or paschal or loyse or the soldiers or victims whose lives he has protected

He felt the limits of his own nature, which too easily swung to anger, and the need—stymied by circumstance—to bring about the Regent’s death. All he wanted was to take up his sword and cut a path into Ios.

he likes it simple. this isn’t simple. so what’s the opposite of simple, then? what would laurent do? what is the approach that ISN’T just ripping the grate out of the wall? guess we're about to see.

‘He thinks he’s alone,’ he said.

for a long time, yeah. until he got stuck with you. which he hated at first, because he felt an irrepressible connection to his worst enemy (the mutual moral arbitration and “yes and”ing of books 1 & 2), but ended up treasuring your connection so deeply that he made himself alone again to save you.

It was what he liked, public humiliation coupled with private chastisement, his reality validated by all those around him.

1) parallel to kastor sending damen to be a slave 2) akielion slavery except it’s seen as honorable which is somehow even more humiliating than forced submission, and there’s nothing to chastise bc they’re groomed to not have opinions. but spot on with “reality validated by all those around him”—the strong over the weak, as a sign of status and power. it’s all the same.

‘You’re right, I can’t fight my way in.’ From the beginning he had been a tool, a weapon to be used against Laurent. The Regent had used him to hurt, to unsettle, to shake Laurent’s control; and finally, to destroy him. ‘I know what I have to do,’ he said.

damen is going to play this veretian game of mock trial and win

He expected to be challenged at the outer gates by soldiers warned and wary, on the lookout for him. But perhaps they were on the lookout for Damianos, the arrogant young King at the head of his army, not a single man in an old worn cloak, a hood that came down over his face, and sleeves to hide his arms. No one stopped him.

this entire thing is a long-awaited subversion of damen to be more like laurent. all the things he hated about laurent, claimed not to understand in previous books, he’s now embodying in this plan, because he understands laurent and why he’s developed these mechanisms in the first place. and he can finally see how coming at issues with this sort of deceptive, restrained, and calculated approach can be extremely effective, especially when everyone—including laurent—expects the opposite from him.

laurent, despite everything, does not expect damen to be able to solve this problem. he can’t just throw a sword at it or rip it out of a wall. damen likes it simple. but what laurent doesn’t understand is that damen loves laurent more than he likes it simple, and that means he’s willing to endure complication in order to protect him. something that laurent has gotten very good at doing for others, but wishes for no one to return. it’s a good thing, then, that damen has never done the things laurent has wished for him to do.

And when he turned the first corner, he saw the palace as everyone saw it: disorientingly, from the outside. There, small as specks, were the high open windows and long marble balconies that invited the sea air in during the evening to cool the baking stone. To the east was the long, columned hall and airy upper quarters. To the north, the King’s quarters, and the high-walled gardens, with their shallow steps and winding paths and the myrtle trees planted for his mother. Memory was sudden; long days training on the sawdust, evenings in the hall, his father presiding from the throne, himself walking those marble halls with surety and unconcern, an unreal former self, who spent evenings in the great hall laughing with friends, being served as he wished by slaves.

he is finally approaching his home as a man and not a king, and understanding how the privilege he’s always felt was an entitlement resting on the backs of people subjugated to maintain it

A yapping dog cut across his path. A woman with a parcel under her arm jostled him, then shouted at him in southern dialect to watch where he was going.

dogs don’t care that you’re the prince. an oblivious random person running an errand doesn’t care that you’re the prince. no wonder laurent mainly has gotten along with animals and oblivious random people in these books. both damen and laurent have been held captive by their own roles as people in power, and they can free each other by unifying the kingdoms and changing what being a person in power MEANS.

He kept walking. He passed the outer homes, with their small windows of differently sized rectangles and squares. He passed the outer storehouses, the granaries, a stone revolving on a millbase, pushed by oxen. He passed the shouts of a dozen market stalls that were all selling fish, pulled from the ocean in the pre-dawn. He passed the traitor’s walk, thick with flies. He scanned the tops of the spikes, but the dead were all dark-haired. A burst of a cavalcade came trotting out on horses. He stepped to the side; they trotted past him, red-cloaked and regimented, without a second glance. It was all uphill in the city, because the palace was built on the peak, with the sea at its back. He realised as he walked that he had never done this on foot before. When he reached the palace square, a feeling of disorientation came over him again, because he only knew the square from the opposite angle: as a view from the white balcony, where his father used to emerge sometimes to raise a hand and address the crowd.

after a lifetime of limiting his own perspective to maintain systems of power and his illusion of personal peace, damen finally watches the road. and the palace—literally held above the rest of akielos to be his home as rightful king—doesn’t feel like home anymore.

‘Halt,’ said the guard. ‘State your business, traveller.’ He waited, until he had the eyes of everyone near the gate on him, then he let the hood of his cloak fall back. He heard the shocked murmurs, the outbreak of sound as he spoke, his words, clear and unmistakable. ‘I am Damianos of Akielos, and I surrender to my brother.’

starting out the laurentian problem solving speedrun by literally doing what laurent did with the regent (kastor is thematically damen’s regent). honestly genius, both on damen’s part and pacat’s.

If it worked, if he was in time—how long could a trial last? How long could Laurent stall for time?

damen assuming that laurent would even bother to stall… i don’t think that’s how laurent works, given his internal narrative during the torture scene. in that scene, he persisted because he knew that the survival and victory of people he cared about hinged on his survival. in this scene, laurent believes that the survival and victory of people he cares about hinges on his death, so it’s pointless to put up a fight. (“objection!” says damen)

He needed them to take him into the hall to face Kastor. He had given up his freedom for that single chance, gambling everything.

kastor, who had made damen a slave in the first place. damen understands the exact kind of cruelty kastor is capable of, his overwhelming desire to make himself the stronger man over damen. he finally accepts that this cruelty and victimhood exist because he saw it in the regent and laurent. even if he’s unwilling to admit it about kastor and himself, he knows. and that’s why he came up with this plan in the first place.

He sat under guard on one of the low seats and didn’t scream in frustration, as time passed, and then more time.

classic damen understatement <3

One was an officer. Another carried irons. He stopped dead when he saw Damen. ‘Cuff him,’ said the officer.

buddy i think there’s one in the way

The soldier holding the irons didn’t move, his wide eyes staring at Damen. ‘Do it,’ came the order. ‘Do it, soldier,’ said Damen.

this is a big moment, i think, relating to the “honor in submission” theme. the intentional appearance of submission in order for damen to reclaim his power. i said this maaaany annotations ago, but damen and laurent’s experiences with trauma in these books are on different timelines. laurent is nursing years of trauma, and knows how to use the appearance of his victimhood to his own advantage. but damen’s trauma is extremely fresh, and thus far he’s only been able to deny it, become disoriented by it, or lose himself in it. but now, almost like an echo of a younger laurent biding his time and committing to the bit in the regent’s court, damen is figuring out how to let his trauma work for HIM.

This was a complex political proposition for the soldiers.

i guess they like it simple (i'm never letting that line go)

The first person to recognise him was a household official carrying a vase which smashed, dropping from his hands.

okay, dramatic.

A slave, caught in a crisis of etiquette, fell half to his knees and then stopped, agonisingly uncertain whether he should complete his prostration.

i adore this subtle moment of a slave seeing royalty in a position like theirs and reconsidering whether they actually need to kneel in the first place

And there wasn’t one throne on the dais, there were two. Kastor and the Regent sat side by side, presiding over the hall.

wrong unification!

It was strange—he had waited for so long to face Kastor, and now he found him simply extraneous. The Regent was the sole intrusion, the sole threat. Kastor looked satisfied. He didn’t see the danger. He didn’t understand what he had let into Akielos.

of course, damen still can’t Notice everything quite yet. but he’ll get it eventually

Alive, alive, Laurent was alive. Damen’s heart leapt, and for a moment he just stood and drank the sight in, giddy with relief.

how far we’ve come :’)

He was still wearing the short Akielon chiton that he had worn to the Kingsmeet, but it was dirty and ripped. Skimpy and showing the signs of rough wear, it was a humiliating garment for him to stand in before the Council.

obvious, but this is a foil to his veretian clothing which signified confidence and invulnerability

Like Damen, he had his hands chained behind his back.

are they both double-cuffed on one wrist

The physical act of standing for hours in irons must be taking its toll, the sheer ache of muscle exhaustion, the rough treatment, and the examination itself, the Regent’s questions, and Laurent’s steady, determined answers.

i think damen’s projecting here. when he was in this position, he had given steady determined answers. he had experienced and withstood exhaustion rough treatment and examination. the sympathy he feels towards laurent at this moment is really sympathy he hasn’t been able to fully give himself, because he has always been unable and unwilling to truly accept himself as a victim.

But he wore the clothes and the chains with disregard, his posture, as ever, coolly untouchable. His expression could not be read, except for, if you knew him, the courage that he sustained though he was alone, and tired, and without friends, and he must know that it was close to the end.

but this is how laurent differs from how damen perceives himself, in this position. laurent’s pride means nothing to him, as long as his submission means that the people he cares for are saved. damen’s pride means everything to him, and i think even now he’d say so. but the thing is, that we saw how damen was just as willing to lower himself to protect the akielion slaves in book 1. damen is so fascinating as a narrator because he does not understand himself at all, but we as the reader can understand him perfectly based on the things he chooses to acknowledge or ignore. frustrating to read at times, but the exact narrator this series needs. these books would not work nearly as well with laurent as full-time narrator.

It was clear from the open look of horrified recognition on Laurent’s face that he had not expected Damen—that he had not expected anyone.

laurent’s not stalling, the regent is dragging this out to torture him

On the dais, Kastor made a small gesture to the Regent, as if to say, You see? I have had him brought for you.

the only thing kastor can actually get credit for doing independently in this entire series was making damen a slave and sending him to vere, and i’m pretty sure that was jokaste’s idea in the first place

(edit from future sam: i know he also killed the king. it comes up later)

‘No,’ said Laurent, swinging his gaze back to his uncle. ‘You promised.’

laurent immediately assumes that the regent somehow made this happen, rather than damen doing it of his own free will. ow.

‘This is Damianos of Akielos. He was captured at the gates this morning. He’s the man responsible for the death of King Theomedes, and for my nephew’s treason. He is my nephew’s lover.’

of course the regent (and kastor) took advantage of damen’s “weakness” and spun it to make themselves look powerful, which puts damen in the perfect place to turn the tables. damen didn’t even really intend for this to happen, consciously i think he surrendered out of desperation more than any rational plan, but SUBconsciously this was literally the perfect move. and we’re about to see damen slowly realize this, and pick up steam as he figures out exactly how he can leverage and subvert this perceived weakness to get what he wants. just like laurent!!!

He had not been brought here to face Kastor or to answer for their father’s death. He had been brought here as a final piece of evidence in Laurent’s trial.

the first time the regent used a captive damen against laurent, damen refused to play along. this was an unexpected response by both the regent and laurent, and it bought d&l necessary time to become stronger in each other’s company.

now, the regent is once again using a captive damen against laurent. but this time, damen decides to play the game too. his willing cooperation in the trial the regent has created is within itself unexpected defiance, and that’s why we love damianos of akielos both as a person and as a really fucking well-written character. he has grown and changed in so many satisfying ways throughout the series, but the defining strengths of his character—willful and defiant integrity—have always been consistent. “i speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart.” = “i’ll cooperate in the trial you’ve rigged to your own advantage, and i’ll win.”

Mathe gestured to Damen. ‘Now we see the proof of all these claims. Damianos, the prince-killer, is here, giving the lie to all the Prince has been saying—proving once and for all that they are in league. Our Prince lies in the depraved embrace of his brother’s killer.’

sounds like mathe didn’t put in the effort and/or critical thinking to properly understand the captive prince series by cs pacat

He was suddenly an exhibit, a kind of proof none of them had imagined: Damianos of Akielos, captured and bound.

full circle babyyyy

‘Nephew, Damianos is restrained. You can speak honestly. You are safe from harm.’ Laurent weathered the slow, caring touch, as the Regent said, gently, ‘Is there some explanation? Perhaps you were not willing? Perhaps he forced you?’ Laurent’s eyes met his uncle’s. Laurent’s chest rose and fell shallowly under the thin white fabric of the chiton. ‘He didn’t force me,’ said Laurent. ‘I lay with him because I wanted to.’

BIG LAURENT MOMENT!!!! “i am not a victim! i did this by choice because i wanted to do it, and i will not lie even if the truth makes me look weak!”

we can see exactly how damen has influenced laurent in this moment. there is no strategic advantage to being honest or blunt here. in fact it invites the very things laurent fears—perceived weakness, shame, uncertainty. the regent is giving him a chance to perhaps save himself, by blaming damen and seeing him punished instead—an option laurent did not think was previously available to him. but laurent does not consider this for a second, and instead does the exact opposite of what his uncle truly wants and expects him to do: he KEEPS IT SIMPLE. laurent cooperates with the image the regent is creating of him, and both we and laurent know that IS defiance. because for maybe the first time ever, laurent knows without a doubt that the image the regent portrays of him isn’t fucking true. he knows that with damen, unlike the regent, he wasn’t a victim. he was willing, he was not forced, and unlike his early stunts in vere, he is not allowing the implication that damen assaulted him to stand. he isn’t hiding or lying or restraining himself. he's not using the way people perceive him as weak to his advantage. laurent has committed to many bits in his life, and when convenient those bits have been some complicated semblance of reality. but this is the first time that laurent simply commits to the TRUTH.

(i love this scene so much. it’s all synthesized so well. it’s a perfect demonstration of how damen and laurent have have changed themselves and each other for the better. i have complaints about this book more than the others, but the trial is fantastic.)

Damen could feel it: in a day’s worth of questioning, this was the first admission.

THAT’S WHAT I JUST SAID!!

‘You don’t have to lie for him, Laurent,’ said the Regent. ‘You can tell the truth.’

even if laurent doesn’t know it yet, he isn’t just doing this for damen—he’s doing it for himself!

‘I don’t lie. We lay together,’ said Laurent, ‘at my behest. I ordered him to my bed. Damianos is innocent of all the charges brought against me. He suffered my company only under force. He is a good man, who has never acted against his own country.’

the self loathing runs deep but still this is a laurent w!!!! the truth is that he hates himself, but at least he’s owning it, and specifying that his self-hatred has fuckall to do with the dumb bullshit the regent is accusing him of. all while being a better version of himself, defending damen in a situation where he had perviously maligned him, which he would not have grown enough to do without damen’s company!!!

‘And what am I accused of? That I have lain with Laurent of Vere?’ Damen’s eyes raked the Council. ‘I have. I found him honest and true. He stands before you wrongly accused. And if this is a fair trial, you will hear me.’

perfect. he knows it isn’t a fair trial, just as he knew it wasn’t fair for him to be punished instead of the regent at the kings meet, just as he now understands that the slavery system in akielos is neither fair nor just. the “good vs nice” theme has finished marinating, and now damen is using the false niceties of his society to do good, basically calling the regent and kastor’s bluff. “IF this is a fair trial, you will hear me.” = “in order for you to maintain the power you’ve been given by the system, you will have to let me to use the system to challenge your power”

‘You will hear me,’ said Damen. ‘You will hear me, and if when you have heard me you still find him guilty, then I will meet my fate alongside him. Or does the Council fear the truth?’

this is his true calling. let’s be so fucking real. i’ve never even jokingly called damen a himbo for a reason, and that reason is that he’s extremely good at thinking critically and constructing compelling arguments if he just lets himself acknowledge reality.

The Regent said, ‘By all means, speak.’ It was a challenge. To have Laurent’s lover in his power pleased the Regent, as a demonstration of his larger power. Damen could feel that. The Regent wanted Damen to entangle himself, wanted a victory over Laurent that was total. Damen drew in a breath. He knew the stakes. He knew that if he failed, he would die alongside Laurent, and the Regent would rule in Vere and in Akielos. He would have given over his life and his kingdom. He looked around at the columned hall. It was his home, his birthright, and his legacy, more precious to him than anything. And Laurent had given him the means to secure it. At the Kingsmeet he could have left Laurent to his fate and ridden back to Karthas and his army. He was undefeated on the field, and not even the Regent would have been able to stand against him. Even now, all he had to do was denounce Laurent and he could face Kastor with a real chance of taking back his throne.

every time damen has had a moment like this, his integrity and honor have prevailed. even when he HATED laurent and would have benefited directly from his assassination, he had intervened because he thought it was a dishonorable attempt on laurent’s life. and then he’d left against his own instincts, because he did not respect or know laurent and laurent did not respect or know him. in book 2 he had many moments like this, and had all but admitted to himself that he was not willing or able to take them. even when they were divorced in the first part of this book, when laurent was actively antagonizing him out of spite, damen never let nikandros or anyone else intervene.

now, after everything they’ve been though? this isn’t even a fucking question. if it’s damen we’re talking about, when it really comes down to this question, it never really has been.

But he had asked himself the question in Ravenel, and now he knew the answer. A kingdom, or this.

committing to the bit, once and for all.

‘I met the Prince in Vere. I thought as you did. I didn’t know his heart.’ It was Laurent who said, ‘No.’ ‘I came to learn it slowly.’ ‘Damen, don’t do this.’ ‘I came to learn his honesty, his integrity, his strength of mind.’ ‘Damen—’ Of course Laurent wanted everything done his own way. But today it was going to be different.

their conflict is their love!!!!!!!! they challenge each other to be better, and the world becomes a better place because of it!!!!!!!!

‘I was a fool, blinded by prejudice. I didn’t understand that he was fighting alone, that he had been fighting alone for a very long time. ‘And then I saw the men he commanded, disciplined and loyal. I saw the way his household loved him, because he knew their concerns, cared for their lives. I saw him protect slaves. ‘And when I left him, drugged and without friends after an attack on his life, I saw him stand up in front of his uncle and argue to save my life because he felt he owed me a debt. ‘He knew that it might cost him his life. He knew he’d be sent to the border, to ride into the very same plot to kill him. And he still argued for me. He did it because it was owed, because in the very private code with which he ran his life, it was right.’ He looked at Laurent, and he understood now what he had not understood then: that Laurent had known who he was that night.

you should try re-reading the series damen, it’s craaaaaazy when you know the twist

Laurent had known who he was and had still protected him, out of a sense of fairness that had somehow survived what had happened to him.

damen and laurent have different traumas, but this description applies to both of them perfectly. from the moment they met each other, they were no longer suffering alone. even if they hated that fact sooooo bad.

‘That is the man you face. He has more honour and integrity than any man I have ever met. He is dedicated to his people and his country. And I am proud to have been his lover.’

Damen said it with his eyes on Laurent, willing him to know how much he meant it, and for a moment Laurent just gazed back at him, his eyes blue and wide.

just had to get a “he gazed” in there. wouldn’t be lamen without it

The Regent’s voice interrupted. ‘A heartfelt declaration is not evidence. I am afraid to say that there is nothing here to change the Council’s decision. You offered no proof, only accusations of an unlikely plot against Laurent, with no hint as to who the architect of it might be.’ ‘You are the architect,’ said Damen, lifting his eyes to the Regent, ‘and I do have proof.’

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO!!!!!

‘I call Guion of Fortaine to speak.’

obsessed with how damen just immediately launched into defense attorney mode. did he do like mock trial as a teenager.

‘Very well,’ the Regent said, leaning back in his seat and gesturing to the Council. Then they had to wait, while runners were sent to the place on the outskirts of the city where Damen had told his men to camp. The Councillors got to sit down, and so did the Regent and Kastor. Lucky them.

oh that “lucky them” is so telling. damen is PISSED. we know this because he’s usually the king of understatement and underreaction in his narration, but is being salty about this minor inconvenience. imagine how he’s going to be with the the regent, if inconvenience gets such a reaction

Not only Guion, but all the members of Damen’s party: Guion’s wife, Loyse, looking white-faced, the physician Paschal, Nikandros and his men, even Jord and Lazar. It meant something to Damen that he had given each of them the option to leave, and they had chosen to stay with him. He knew what they risked. Their loyalty touched him.

except you, guion.

He knew that Laurent didn’t like it. Laurent wanted to do everything alone. But it wasn’t going to be like that.

lamen truly is the love story for me. it’s not enough for a romantic interest to be like “you’re not alone uwu <3” with such gentle softness that their partner finally believes it. it’s gotta be like “i’m not going to let you believe that you’re alone just so you can reinforce your own self-protective/destructive trauma responses. you’re loved, i brought receipts, deal with it” to truly hit

(which is interesting, esp with the series’s themes of coercion and free will! in a lot of ways it is a relief for someone to ignore your protests and boundaries, when they truly do mean well and want to help you and know what’s good for you. it’s just that most people who are forceful and coercive don’t have those intentions, or don’t actually know what they’re talking about. but this is a rare but earned moment where we know that damen is right, that laurent’s beliefs about himself should be challenged, and that they both will be better for it. they’ve always challenged each other in many ways, and throughout the series they’ve been making their way to being truly balanced in terms of power dynamics. laurent knew that damen had killed his brother the whole time he was antagonizing damen, but they still weren’t on even footing. damen eventually learned the truth about laurent’s awareness of his identity, but they still weren’t on even footing until they actually dealt with the baggage involved. in that one sex scene where damen took total control, i commented on how it felt like laurent wasn’t really letting himself be present, and damen lost himself in something that wasn’t there. but then in the following sex scene, laurent made SURE to be present. it's always been slightly uneven with them, up to the point where laurent freed jokaste and gave himself up to the regent. he's always had a lie of some kind to hide himself behind, to isolate himself with. but not now. he's not alone, and damen is not going to let laurent tell himself that he is. damen pushes past laurent's boundaries and within this narrative it's a good thing, and that is a huge part of the fantasy of captive prince and lamen's relationship. because we know that damen truly loves and cares for laurent and is doing this for his sake, and the core of their relationship is willingly challenging each other and allowing themselves to be challenged.)

Mathe resumed his role as questioner as the spectators craned their necks, disliking the columns because they obstructed the view.

‘Laurent of Vere is guilty of every charge brought against him,’ said Guion.

raise your hand if you’re surprised. nobody but damen should have a hand raised rn

‘You swore to tell the truth,’ said Damen. No one was listening to him.

two steps forward one step back with damen thinking the best of people who don’t deserve it. although i guess that’s what made lamen possible, because most people would not have reconsidered laurent after the shit he pulled in book 1. i say again, this series would not work with a non-damen protagonist

‘He tried to coerce me to lie for him. He threatened to kill me. He threatened to kill my wife. He threatened to kill my sons. He slaughtered his own people at Ravenel. I would vote him guilty myself, if I were still a member of the Council.’

guion you got your son killed, after inviting the regent to [redacted] him. sit down.

It had a symbolic power, the six of them standing on one side of the hall, and Laurent—in his thin, tattered Akielon clothing held in the grip of his uncle’s soldiers—on the other. Laurent spoke. ‘No final advice? No uncle’s kiss of affection?’ ‘You had so much promise, Laurent,’ said the Regent. ‘I regret what you became more than you do.’ ‘You mean that I’m on your conscience?’ said Laurent. ‘It hurts me,’ said the Regent, ‘that you feel such animosity towards me, even now. That you tried to undermine me with accusations, when I have only ever wanted the best for you.’ He spoke in a saddened voice. ‘You should have known better than to bring Guion to testify against me.’ Laurent met the Regent’s eyes, standing alone before the Council. ‘But uncle,’ said Laurent, ‘Guion isn’t who I brought.’

it’s like we’re in book 1 again. ahem. laurent: have you had your fun? don’t you want to taunt me one more time? regent: you already hate yourself more than i ever could. if you had just submitted to me, things would be better for us both. laurent: you’re the reason i hate myself. you did this to me. regent: if you understand the power i have over you, you really should have known better than to fight against me alone. laurent: i’m not fighting alone.

as always, i don’t remember exactly how much of this has been intentional on laurent’s part. had he counted on damen bringing loyse? i don’t think so, right? he really had meant to die, but now that the game has changed (damen is here, he’s brought the squad) laurent is back to planning, and has been since the moment their involvement was accepted. he even had time to think it through, which is like the most dangerous resource to give laurent!

‘He brought me,’ said Guion’s wife Loyse, stepping forward.

fucking GENIUS on cs pacat’s part. i wrote a long post months ago about women in capri, but like the gist of it was that there are normal rational compassionate people, women and otherwise, in this world, but we just haven’t gotten to be around them. because most of the people in power, and therefore the ones featured most prominently, are corrupt out-of-touch assholes. and the members of this series’s cast who don’t fall under this description exist to supplement damen and laurent’s insane dynamic. so it is genius to pull in this seemingly insignificant grieving woman whose motivations and emotions are simple, raw, understandable, and thematically linked to laurent and damen’s experiences with the regent as the person who ultimate seals the textually misogynistic regent’s fate. it’s not just about gender, or even primarily about gender—it’s about empowering the disempowered.

‘I have something to say. It’s about my husband, and this man, the Regent, who has brought my family into ruin, and who ended the life of my youngest son, Aimeric.’

YES.

‘Loyse, what are you doing?’ said Guion, as all of the hall’s attention riveted on Loyse. She paid him no attention, but continued to walk forward until she stood alongside Damen, addressing her words to the Counci

YEESSSSSS!

‘In the year after Marlas, the Regent visited my family in Fortaine,’ said Loyse. ‘And my husband, who is ambitious, gave him leave to enter the bedroom of our youngest son.’

the amount of contempt in “my husband, who is ambitious”…

Guion was looking from Loyse to the Council, and he gave a laugh, braying and too loud. ‘You can’t be giving credence to any of this.’

a foil to damen and laurent in this setting. immediately dismissing the testimony of his partner in favor of his own pride and status. stay classy, guion

No one answered, the silence uncomfortable. Councillor Chelaut’s gaze shifted for a moment to the young boy sitting beside the Regent, his fingers sticky with powdered sugar from the sweetmeats.

the poetic irony of this normalized part of the regent’s court turning the court against him when viewed in a new light, or just called out at all, especially by a woman whose son he abused!!!

‘I know that no one here cares about Aimeric,’ said Loyse. ‘No one cares that he killed himself at Ravenel because he couldn’t live with what he had done.'

parallel to damen defending laurent, except she does think he was alone. which is so deeply sad, and pretty much true.

‘So let me tell you instead about what Aimeric died for—a plot between the Regent and Kastor to kill King Theomedes and then to take his country.’

the truth is terrible, but it also empowers loyse to enact change. things can’t be better until we see them for what they really are. i’d say that’s a major series theme when it comes to relationships and politics.

‘These are lies,’ Kastor said in Akielon, and then he said it again in thickly accented Veretian. ‘Arrest her.’

seems like damen speaks better veretian than kastor, if kastor’s is deeply accented. kastor stays losing!

It was plain from Kastor’s face that he had realised for the first time that he was not in control of the hall.

shifts of power truly are the powerhouse of the captive prince series. both in a narrative way and a horny way

‘Arrest me, but not before you’ve seen the proof.’ Loyse was pulling a ring on a chain from her gown; it was a signet ring, ruby or garnet, and on it was the royal crest of Vere. ‘My husband brokered the deal. Kastor assassinated his own father in exchange for the Veretian troops you see here today. The troops he needed to take Ios.’

i’m going to be so real, it’s been months since i read prince’s gambit, but i’m pretty sure the signet ring was foreshadowed. which… holy shit. laurent hadn’t expected all the damen stuff to happen, but i’m pretty sure he had been priming this piece of ammo against the regent the entire time. he’d just thought that he’d lost the opportunity to use it when giving himself up, or had given up sooner than that. or had he only learned this from loyse after aimeric’s death?? idk maybe the book will tell me now. i hope it does bc i do not feel like digging back for foreshadowing i’ve been doing this for hours

wait no FUCK the ring was for nikandros!!! right???? yes it has to be. it couldn’t have been both things at once, and loyse telling laurent only makes sense after aimeric’s death. so yes the signet was foreshadowed, but it was a different use of it. although i guess the existence of a signet ring holding significance was foreshadowed partially so it would work again here.

‘She’s not a traitor. She’s just confused. She’s been deceived, and coached, she’s been upset since Aimeric died. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s being manipulated by these people.’

“she doesn’t know what she’s doing. she’s being forced. she’s a victim, because we’ve made her a victim.” FUCK NO!!! we’re not doing that anymore!!!!

Herode and Chelaut wore expressions of repressed distaste, even revulsion. Damen saw suddenly that the obscene youth of the Regent’s lovers had always been repellent to these men, and the idea that the son of a councillor had been used in this way was disturbing to them beyond measure.

could have been way more disturbing way sooner, but better late than never ig

But they were political men, and the Regent was their master.

POWER SHIFTS! POWER RESTING ON THE SUBJUGATED CAN BE TOPPLED AT ITS FOUNDATIONS!

He was right, Damen realised. Laurent hadn’t brought Loyse to clear his own name, but to clear Damen’s. There was no proof that would clear Laurent’s name. The Regent had been too thorough. The palace assassins were dead. The assassins from the road were dead. Even Govart was dead, cursing boy pets and physicians.

maybe. just maybe. you both are good and both deserve to be happy. at the same time. your names can both be cleared. we are so close.

“boy pets and physicians” ironically the two things that end up getting the regent convicted

They were connected in some way. He was suddenly sure of it. Whatever Govart had known, Nicaise had known it too, and the Regent had killed him for it. And that meant— Damen was pushing himself up abruptly.

i LOVE how damen pieces this together. it wasn’t a laurent machination, the laurent machination had been to save damen alone. but damen said “no, laurent needs to be saved too.” and figures out a convoluted thing that even laurent hadn’t clocked, which just happens to involve nicaise, who deserved better, just like laurent deserves better, just like everyone under the regent’s power deserves better, except guion.

‘No,’ said Paschal. ‘He died because of this.’ He took from the folds of his clothes a bundle of papers, tied with string.

does he always just like carry that around?? i guess it makes sense if it’s like dangerously sensitive information, and also from his dead brother

‘The last words of my brother, the archer Langren, carried by the soldier called Govart, and stolen by the Regent’s pet, Nicaise, who was killed for it. This is the testimony of the dead.’

okay yeah he kept it on him bc it got stolen once and the person who stole it got killed about it. that tracks. also tracks why he hadn’t spoken up sooner.

‘I am Paschal, a palace physician. And I have a story to tell about Marlas.'

LOVE how it’s marlas

‘Diplomacy failed. The talks fell through. Theomedes wanted land, not peace. He sent away the Veretian emissaries without hearing them.'

not surprised

For the first time, he wondered what had happened behind Veretian lines to cause it. He thought of a King convinced it was the best way of protecting his people.

love this subtle damen character development moment

‘Instead, Veretians fell. I was nearby when the word came that Auguste was dead. In grief, the King pulled off his helm. He was careless. I think in his mind, he had no reason left to be careful.’

so the regent was the reason both auguste and the king died. they went out there on bad advice because they were desperate to protect their people. and damen thought they were cowards, and believed that his killing of auguste was honorable and fair.

damn.

He began to untie the string, drawing it away and opening the papers. They were covered in writing. ‘Nicaise gave it to me for safekeeping. He had stolen it from Govart, and he was scared. I opened it, never expecting what I would find. In fact, the letter was to me, though Nicaise didn’t know it. It was a confession, in my brother’s handwriting.’

i’m glad that nicaise has a part in this, even if he isn’t here to see it.

And then Damen looked at Laurent. Laurent’s face was completely devoid of colour. It was not an idea that Laurent had entertained before, that much was clear. Laurent had his own blind spot when it came to his uncle. I didn’t think he’d really try to kill me. After everything . . . even after everything.

just like his father and brother—a bleeding heart. but that gives him power, just as much as it makes him vulnerable. all of the people rallying around him, dead and alive, are proof of that.

Damen thought of his father struggling to breathe in his sickbed

it’s so funny to know that yet another Thing kastor did was someone else’s idea first. come on, dude.

‘You can’t believe this? The lies of a physician and a boy whore?’ Guion’s voice was jarring in the silence. Damen looked to the Council, where the oldest of the Councillors, Herode, was looking up from the papers. ‘Nicaise had more nobility in him than you,’ said Herode. ‘He was more loyal to the Crown than the Council, in the end.’

‘The Council has been deceived into treason,’ said the Regent, calmly. ‘Take them.’ There was a pause, in which his order ought to have been followed, but wasn’t. The Regent turned. The hall was thick with his soldiers, the Regent’s Guard, trained to his orders, and brought here to do his bidding. None of them moved. In the strange silence, a soldier stepped forward. ‘You’re not my King,’ he said. Pulling the Regent’s insignia from his shoulder, he dropped it at the Regent’s feet.

this is the most devastating defeat possible for the regent. for reasons i think i’ve already explained.

Then he crossed the hall as the Council had done, to stand beside Laurent.

okay actually THIS is the most devastating defeat for the regent. lol

His movement was the first drop that became a trickle, then a flow, as another soldier pulled his insignia from his shoulder and crossed, and another, and another, until the hall was loud with the sound of armoured feet, the hail of badges hitting the ground. Like the tide drawing away from a rock, the Veretians crossed the hall, until the Regent stood alone. And Laurent stood facing him, with an army at his back.

‘Herode,’ said the Regent. ‘This is the boy who has shirked his duties, who has never worked for anything in his life, who is in every way unfit to rule the country.’ Herode said, ‘He is our King.’ ‘He’s not a king. He’s no more than a—’ ‘You’ve lost.’ Laurent’s calm words cut across his uncle’s. He stood free. His uncle’s soldiers had released him, striking the irons from his wrists. Across from him, the Regent stood exposed, a middle-aged man used to commanding public spectacle, now with it turned against him.

He took the black square of cloth from the slave who had carried it, and placed it over the head of the sceptre. ‘This is absurd,’ said the Regent.

“from the slave who had carried it”

‘You think you can defy me?’ the Regent said to Laurent. ‘You think you can rule Vere? You?’ Laurent said, ‘I’m not a boy anymore.’

And he saw that Laurent understood, that Laurent knew, somehow, about the scrap of paper that Damen had found that morning in the empty wagon in their camp, its door standing open. That he had carried it in careful fingers on the long walk to the city. The child was never yours, but he is safe. In another life, he would have been a king.   I remember the way you looked at me, the day we met. Perhaps that, too, in another life.   Jokaste

okay uh sure. cool. wasn’t really worried about that with everything else going on but good to know i guess. anyway

(i'm still murky on how much of this laurent had anticipated, vs what damen thinks laurent anticipated because damen thinks laurent knows everything, vs what neither of them anticipated. it's fine.)

‘What’s happening?’ said a young voice. Damen turned. The eleven-year-old boy who had been sitting beside the Regent’s throne had pushed up out of his chair and was staring, confusion in his wide brown eyes. ‘What’s happening? You said we’d go riding after. I don’t understand.’ He was trying now to go to the soldiers who were holding the Regent down. ‘Stop it, you’re hurting him. You’re hurting him. Let him go.’ A soldier was holding him back, and the boy was fighting him.

fuuuuuuuck. breaking the cycle, but still. breaking.

Laurent looked at the boy, and in his eyes was the knowledge that some things couldn’t be fixed.

nicaise. closure, self-forgiveness, grief as fuel for a better future. sad and real and finished.

He said, ‘Get that boy out of here.’

the most merciful thing laurent could do: protect the boy from seeing this

It was a single clean stroke. Laurent’s face didn’t change.

interesting to compare this to nicaise’s beheading. “damen saw laurent react, then make himself not react.”

i find this to be a very satisfying way for the regent to die: killed by a coalition of the people he had crushed on his way to power, by the same means he had used to kill nicaise. and for once, laurent did not have to get his own hands dirty to see justice done.

‘Put his body on the gates. Fly my flag on the walls. Let all my people know of my ascension.’ He lifted his eyes, and met Damen’s gaze across the length of the hall. ‘And unchain the King of Akielos.’

sounds like the kings have risinged

‘You came,’ said Laurent. ‘You knew I would,’ said Damen.

... but did he, though? maybe he thought you'd come to defeat kastor, but i don't think laurent thought he (laurent) was going to survive this.

‘If you need an army to take your capital,’ said Laurent, ‘I seem to have one.’

yeah laurent does not agree. damen you’re still maybe a little off the mark here, but that’s okay, it’s good to encourage laurent to value himself and trust in his community. i just hope that your idealistic misjudgments of character don’t end up getting you stabbed in the next chapter when you expect your murderous brother to act honorably

Even men fighting for their lives could not overcome a lifetime of observance and directly strike against their Prince. He had a clear path.

i really like how this chapter is placed after the very optimistic and empowering trial sequence. because there is still so much cynicism to the monarchy, to these systems of power, to people like kastor who don’t take chances that are given to them, and those things can still cause harm. they can especially endanger people like damen, whose greatest strength and weakness is his stubborn determination to live in a world that is good. and where laurent benefitted from learning from damen in the last sequence, and his cynicism was ultimately proven wrong, damen is proven wrong in this one. kastor does try to kill him when he shows mercy, the system is still being observed in ways that resemble the past. but damen isn’t alone, and laurent is there for him when he miscalculates—unlike jokaste or any of his other allies when kastor stripped him of his dignity and sent him to vere as a slave. and together they’re going to do their best to change the world for the better, even though the world is complicated and sometimes cynical. that, to me, is the most empowering way this story could possibly end.

He turned left. Instead of heading towards the main doors, he made his way to the viewing hall, where slaves were displayed for their royal masters. He turned into the narrow corridors along which he’d been taken on that long ago night, the fighting becoming distant shouts and clangs behind him, the sounds growing muffled as he ran. And from there, he descended down into the slave baths.

the trauma speedrun…

His body reacted, his chest constricting, his pulse kicking hard. For a moment, he was hanging suspended from those chains again, and Jokaste was coming towards him across the marble.

damen ptsd hasn’t magically healed. fits well with previous annotation about this final scene and why it works

All he could do was wait for Kastor to appear at the top of the stairs. Damen stood, his sword in his hands, and tried not to feel small, like a younger brother.

stronger man on top, etc

Kastor came in alone, without even an honour guard. When he saw Damen, he gave a low laugh, as though Damen’s presence satisfied in him some sense of the inevitable.

kastor: disney villain damen: he can’t be that bad

He thought of everything that Kastor had done—the long, slow poisoning of their father, the massacre of his household, the brutality of his own enslavement—and he tried to understand that these things had not been done by another person, but by this one, his brother. But when he looked at Kastor all he could remember was that Kastor had taught him how to hold a spear, that he had sat with him when his first pony had broken its leg and had to be put down, that after his first okton Kastor had ruffled his hair and told him that he had done well.

see previous recent annotations about damen seeing the best in people being a double edged sword (literally)

Why did you deserve it more than I did? Because you were better at fighting? What does wielding a sword have to do with kingship?’ ‘I would have fought for you,’ said Damen. ‘I would have died for you. I would have been loyal—would have had you by my side.’

i love how damen answers the question without even meaning to answer it. damen is more honorable than kastor not because of his lineage or skills, but because he acts honorably. if kinghood is meant for the honorable (which uhhhh personally i’m not a big fan of royalty stuff bc i think that’s lame but we’re staying within the narrative and kastor’s logic rn), then that is why damen deserves to be king while kastor does not

He made himself stop before he gave voice to the words that he had never let himself speak: I loved you, but you wanted a throne more than you wanted a brother.

a kingdom or this, and kastor chose a kingdom. and didn’t even get it. lol

‘You know I can’t beat you in a fair fight.’

the narrative knows that there is no such thing as a fair fight, but damen fundamentally will always believe that there should be.

‘I didn’t want you made a slave. When the Regent asked for you, I refused. It was Jokaste. She convinced me to send you to Vere.’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen. ‘I’m beginning to understand that she did.’

damen knows that’s a lie, and that the regent happily accepted damen as a slave as a gift from kastor so he could torture laurent. he also knows for a fact now that jokaste had been trying to protect him—from kastor.

I’m your brother.’ Kastor said it, as Damen took another step, and then another. ‘Damen, it’s a terrible thing to kill your own family.’ ‘You’re troubled by what you’ve done? It gives you a moment’s pause?’

kastor going into damage control mode because he thinks damen is going to actually do it. fucking coward

Kastor lifted his head and looked at him, and Damen saw a thousand unspoken words in his brother’s black eyes. ‘Thank you,’ said Kastor, ‘brother.’ And he drew a knife from his belt, and ran it straight through Damen’s unprotected body.

the paradox of a better world, as experienced and perpetuated by damen: have to believe in it for it to exist, but you’re going to experience pain and suffering because of that belief

‘There can’t be two Kings of Akielos.’ Kastor was coming down the steps towards him. ‘You should have stayed a slave in Vere.’

there actually can be two kings, but they’re named damen and laurent. hope that helps.

A shocked, familiar voice to his left. He and Kastor both turned their heads. Laurent was standing in the open archway, white-faced. Laurent must have followed him from the great hall. He was unarmed and still wearing that ridiculous chiton. He needed to tell Laurent to get out, to run, but Laurent was already on his knees beside him. Laurent’s hand was passing over his body. Laurent said, in an oddly detached voice, ‘You have a knife wound. You have to staunch the blood until I can call for a physician. Press here. Like this.’ He lifted Damen’s left hand to press against his stomach.

laurent is here for damen because damen believed in a better world, and tried to see the best in laurent. if he hadn’t done that, he would bleed out and die right now. ultimately it is damen’s way of thinking that prevails, and that’s why he’s our protagonist.

Then he took Damen’s other hand in his own, clasping their fingers together and holding his hand like it was the most important thing in the world. Damen thought that if Laurent was holding his hand, he must be dying.

god they’re so.

There was a snick as Laurent locked Damen’s gold cuff to one of the slave chains scattered over the floor. Damen looked at his newly chained wrist, not comprehending. Then Laurent rose, his hand closing around the hilt of Damen’s sword. ‘He won’t kill you,’ said Laurent. ‘But I will.’

SEE RECENT ANNOTATIONS.

also wow, i am a SUCKER for unfathomably soft treatment of the person a character loves, and then resolute violence towards the people who hurt them. which is like laurent’s whole thing. they’ve both changed, but some things are always going to be the same.

and of course, the continuing use of the cuffs and chains. in the same way that damen didn’t give laurent a choice but to believe that he wasn’t alone, laurent isn’t giving damen a choice but to survive this encounter with kastor.

Kastor had reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘I’m going to kill your lover,’ he said to Damen, ‘and then I’m going to kill you.’ Laurent stood in his way, a slender figure with a sword that was too big for him, and Damen thought of a thirteen-year-old boy with his life about to change, standing on the battlefield with determination in his eyes.

kastor you have no idea how cunty laurent is with a sword

Damen had seen Laurent fight before. He had seen the spare, precise style that he used on the field. He had seen the different, highly intellectual way that he approached a duel. He knew Laurent as an accomplished swordsman, a master even, of his own style. Kastor was better.

okay fine whatever.

Kastor, at thirty-five,

kastor you cannot be acting this way at age thirty fucking five.

Kastor lifted his sword. Damen tugged uselessly on the chain as Kastor advanced. It was like watching a former self, unable to stop his own actions.

damen is SO convinced that kastor is going to win this, because he won in marlas against auguste. and then beat laurent when they fought. buuuuut

And then Kastor attacked, and Damen saw what a lifetime of single-minded dedication had forged in Laurent.

damen is often wrong, especially about laurent. and kastor isn’t damen.

Years of training, of pushing a body never intended for martial pursuits to its limit in hours of ceaseless practice. Laurent knew how to fight a stronger opponent, how to counter a longer reach. He knew the Akielon style—more than that. He knew exact move sets, lines of attack taught to Kastor by the royal trainers that he could not have learned from his own sword masters, but only by watching Damen with meticulous attention as he trained, and cataloguing each movement, preparing for the day that they would fight.

and laurent had LEARNED from damen.

And because Laurent’s life had been dragged from its course, because he was not the sweet, bookish youth he might have been, but instead was hard and dangerous as cut glass, Laurent was going to take on Kastor’s best sword work, and force it back.

laurent, specifically as a character with trauma, means so much to me. sometimes people push back against the idea that trauma makes you stronger, because it’s often used as an apologetic platitude: “you experienced bad things, but it’s okay because you’re stronger.” i disagree with that implication wholeheartedly. but personally, i do think that trauma made me stronger, simply because it forced me to adapt in ways i would not have otherwise figured out. and to me this is a neutral fact, not a tragedy or uplifting platitude. trauma made me stronger, whether i like it or not. the uplifting part, for me, comes in the ways i can use that strength to fight for a better life and a better world. and that feels very close to the ethos of laurent’s character, and the captive prince series as a whole.

It was a simple misjudgement on Laurent’s part: a dip in the marble altered his footing and affected his line, his blade cutting too far to the left. He wouldn’t have misjudged if he hadn’t been tired. The same had been true for Auguste, fighting for hours on the front. His eyes flying to Kastor, Laurent tried to correct the mistake, close the gap into which a man could drive his sword if he was ruthless, and willing to kill. ‘No,’ said Damen, who had lived this, too, jerking hard on his restraints, ignoring the pain in his side as Kastor took the opening, moving with merciless speed to cut Laurent down. Death and life; past and future; Akielos and Vere. Kastor let out a choked sound, his eyes shocked and wide. Because Laurent wasn’t Auguste. And the stumble wasn’t a mistake, it was a feint. Laurent’s sword met Kastor’s, forcing it up, and then, with a neat, minimal motion of the wrist, driving forward into Kastor’s chest.

damen is always going to miss things, about laurent and everything else in the world. this often means he is blindsided in upsetting ways.

but sometimes he misses things like this. and it’s good, once in a while, for him be proven wrong :)

(as i’ve said, that’s the core of lamen. endless power shifts. and i love it.)

Laurent was already turning, already at Damen’s side, on his knees, his hands firm and strong on Damen’s body as though he had never left.

“anyway”

Kastor’s death he felt as the death of a man he had not known, or understood. Losing his brother—that had happened a long time ago, like the loss of another self who had not grasped the flawed nature of the world. Later, he would face that.

“another self who had not grasped the flawed nature of the world” damen if you want to know more about that guy you can read my bazillion annotations of your narration

Later they would lay Kastor out, taking him on the long walk, inter him, where he should be, with their father. Later he would mourn, for the man Kastor was, for the man he might have been, for a hundred different pasts and might-have-beens. Now, Laurent was beside him. Aloof, untouchable Laurent was beside him, kneeling on the wet marble hundreds of miles from home, with nothing in his eyes but Damen. ‘There’s a lot of blood,’ said Laurent. ‘Luckily,’ said Damen, ‘I brought a physician.’

‘I killed your brother.’ ‘I know.’

would have been a useful conversation to have three books ago, but i’m not complaining about what we got instead

Damen said it, and felt a strange empathy pass between them, as if they knew each other for the first time. He looked into Laurent’s eyes and felt himself understood, even as he understood Laurent. They were both orphans now, without family. The symmetry that ruled both their lives had brought them here, at the end of their journey.

okay sorry to criticize right before this wraps up but this paragraph wasn’t necessary

‘It was one kingdom, once.’ Laurent wasn’t looking at him when he said it, and it was a long moment before he lifted his eyes to Damen’s waiting ones, and Damen’s breath caught at what he saw there, the odd shyness of it, as though Laurent was asking instead of answering. ‘Yes,’ said Damen, feeling light-headed at the question.

that was literally a marriage proposal, right???

(interesting how we never get “i love you”s. although i think we have gotten many of them, just not in so many words. and those words being what They Are is very specific to our real-life culture and media.)

‘No, don’t move,’ said Laurent, when Damen pushed up onto an elbow, and then, ‘Idiot,’ when Damen kissed him.

i’d be lying if i said this didn’t immediately make me think of catradora

He pushed Damen firmly back. Damen let him. His stomach hurt.

damen bringing us home with one last understatement

It was not a mortal wound, but it was nice to have Laurent fuss over him.

The thought of days of bed rest and physicians was made sweeter by the thought of Laurent alongside him, making barbed remarks in public, and in private, newly tender. He thought, Laurent alongside him for all the span of his days. He lifted his fingers to touch Laurent’s face.

“my husband is a bitch and i love him so much”

‘You know, you’re going to have to unchain me at some point,’ said Damen. Laurent’s hair was soft. ‘I will. At some point. What’s that sound?’

never really letting each other go

He could hear it even in the slave baths, muffled but audible, the sound ringing out from the highest peak, a peal of notes, proclaiming a new king. ‘Bells,’ said Damen.

i know a lot of people really love this conclusion, and while i don’t dislike it, it doesn’t feel like it hits as hard as it could. when exactly have we heard bells before? i just scanned the prologue of book 1 and didn’t see them. i get the themes of kings rising (obviously) and the future, but i’m also wondering if there’s some obvious thing i’m missing that really makes this HIT. like, “he was watching the road” kind of hit. which i’ll be reading too, by the way. so it’s not quite over yet :)

final thoughts: see the past three books of annotations. i’m really happy i did this, and i'm so thankful for everyone who followed along with me. looking forward to the short stories, which i actually haven’t read except for the summer palace. let me know your recommended order, if you want!

[swiftsalad]

This is a very sentimental piece that I recently drew of Armand, specifically from a couple chapters of the fanfic-in the deafening polar province called You. Please read it first if you don’t want to be spoiled bc I’m about to talk about spoilers.

Spoilers free TLDR: Armand’s trauma being this shapeless thing over his heart, that is fragmented due to his broken memories, is a well of pain that seems endless, and so all he can do is claw at his skin.

GOOOOOD I really love this fanfic. I feel that the author really understands Armand’s character and his relationship with Daniel and they expand these concepts in such a beautiful way. And the first couple chapters that summarize Armand’s POV of the 2 weeks in Dubai, are done so well where I can really feel how Armand is comfortable in his relationship with Louis but isn’t really happy and how in his mind he can’t really comprehend why he does what he does but really only knows how to act in the moment when his security is jeopardized. So of course he runs after Louis when the truth is revealed because Louis is his safety blanket, and without it Armand knows he’ll be alone again. That feeling is also what pushes him to tell Daniel about their past, stringing along enough information so Daniel keeps him around for a couple days once they’re back in New York. But then you have that chapter where Armand realizes that his relationship with Louis turned into comfortable complacency and that he never stopped loving Daniel and then a hint of subconscious, self sabotage because he really let Daniel reveal the truth without realizing it. AND THEN YOU GET THE FLASHBACKS. it’s my personal belief that we get the flashbacks as Armand himself is remembering/thinking about them since it’s his POV, like I think every flashback is done not only so its in sync with the plot beats but also because its Armand’s line of thinking.

Returning the memories to Daniel; heartbreaking, their last time having sex; heartbreaking, their first time having sex since; heartbreaking, “what we both want, we get”; heartbreaking, Daniel once again asking to be turned; heartbreaking, Armand trying to dissuade Daniel from vampirism by having him kill a guy and drink his blood via Armand straw; INSANE but heartbreaking, Daniel pinching and poking Armand until he agrees to turn Daniel; so funny and real but heartbreaking.

Then we get to the last 10 chapters and the whole time I felt as though there were a thorn in my heart and I was on the verge of tears the whole time. If these previous chapters were heartbreaking then these last chapters are DEVASTATING.

“I need you to keep it together”; DEVASTATING, “take it all and punish me for this”; DEVASTATING, Armand seeing Daniel’s gold eyes for the first time; DEVASTATING, Armand needing to be in pain for their first time as maker and fledgling; DEVASTATING,

And I quote:

“Five hundred years, Armand’s heart has beat the same lonely rhythm. Five hundred years, and every moment has been captive to the pounding, pulsing need. To the question that has forever gone unanswered. Do you love do you love me do you love me?”

“You can feel it now.” Daniel murmurs, irises nearly clear, pupils blown wide like two yawning holes Armand wants to fall into. “How much I love you.”

Daniel’s heart beats and beats and beats.

And yes, Armand can feel it. Daniel inside him, his heart and its steady I do I do I do, so certain that not even Armand’s own can find a way to doubt it.”

End quote.

So DEVASTATING that I’m crying, screaming, and throwing up. This chapter is one of the two that inspired me to draw something from the concepts and themes that arose with these characters. The other chapter that inspired the composition of the drawing is only a few chapters later in chapter 23, the moment is too long to quote fully but to put it simply, after Armand has a nightmare where he relives his trauma(btw as someone who has trauma dreams, this was written really well and realistic to how trauma works in dreams) Daniel wakes him up and he slowly realizes that in his sleep, he clawed at his chest, directly above his heart, subconsciously trying to rip it out. When I tell you, I had to look at the ceiling for many hours after chapter 23. And then I spent a week trying to draw it, I scrapped so many sketches because it was so important for me to get right. What’s crazy is that I felt as though the fanfic was not the same after chapter 23 either, like in the following chapters until the epilogue, there’s this weird melancholy in Armand’s narrative, and then in the chapter where they temporarily split, Armand directly calls it a “bomb” that hasn’t detonated yet. Like Daniel is simultaneously a reprieve from Armand’s self-loathing and now the source of it. Everything, everything, everything in this fic is exactly what I want from Devil’s Minion, past and current. The gentle violence, the violent intimacy, the bond before the blood bond, before the vampire bond, the constant draw to one another, the push and pull, the unspoken parallels; young Daniel being similar to Arun, old Daniel being similar to Amedeo, old Daniel with returned memories being something new but getting closer to being Armand’s equal, then vampire Daniel not only being Armand’s equal but being ONE with him, of course with the help of the vampire bond, where Daniel feels Armand’s feelings before Armand can even recognize them. And any time one of them puts their hand over the others heart it makes me just want to roll around on the floor or sink to the bottom of a pool, I really need that to be canon at some point.

THANK YOOOU @shineforthee for writing such a compelling fanfiction, I’m literally obsessed with everything you write it's not even funny!!!

[fcble]

COLONIALISM, COLLABORATION, AND K-POP: THE CASE OF FABLE'S BYEONGHWI

In the almost seven years of their career so far, South Korean boy group Fable have made a name for themselves with their unflinching and unapologetically traditional Korean concept. In an industry whose fans debate the Westernization of the genre daily, Fable provides a breath of fresh air.

That isn’t to say they’re without their fair share of controversies. They remain notorious for a 2020 scandal where netizens revealed that one member, Mingeun, lied about his nationality, presenting himself as South Korean when in reality, he’s Canadian. They were also the subject of a call-out post by a YouTuber who later debuted as the center of co-ed group Lightspeed. The video was addressed by Fable members Mingeun and Jaeseop, which perhaps led further to its infamy.

Having called into question who can be in Fable (does a passport make an identity?) and what exactly the group stands for (a still-hotly debated topic), the latest Fable controversy centers the group’s youngest member, Byeonghwi—or more accurately, the group’s youngest member Byeonghwi’s great-grandfather.

On January 22, 2025, Fable members Byeonghwi, Haksu, and Andrew—the last of whom is sometimes known better by his stage name, Yejun—participated in an ad campaign for Ssijok+ (씨족+, from the Korean word for “clan”), an online platform similar to Ancestry.com that provides insights into a person’s ancestral past. The ads, which aired both on television and across social media, showcased Byeonghwi’s discovery of the tax records collected by his great-grandfather, Haksu’s confirmation of his noble roots, and Andrew’s findings of the ship manifests on which his great-great-grandparents immigrated to the United States via Hawaii. The ads were meant to be followed by longer videos on Fable’s YouTube channel, where each of the three members shared their discoveries in more detail. Byeonghwi’s individual video was released first. It remains the only one of the three videos publicly uploaded. Although no longer available, it has been archived by netizens and sliced into pieces for the most online to decipher.

NOW PLAYING: SSIJOK+ with BYEONGHWI, originally uploaded by Fable on YouTube, January 24, 2025 “Once upon a time! Hello everyone, I’m Fable’s Byeonghwi.” He sits behind a desk in the center of the frame, hands clasped together on the table in front of him. “Today, I’m going to share a story of my past with everyone. I’m the first member to do this, so please look after me well.” He bows his head. From somewhere outside of the frame, he retrieves a stack of papers. “Ssijok+ helped me find this information.” He shows the top paper to the camera: a glossy black and white photo of a middle-aged man with a stern expression in a formal Western-style suit. “My great-grandfather was the first of my family to live in Jecheon. He was born in the South Hamgyong province in the north and fled south during the war when the Soviets occupied his hometown. I knew a little about him because he picked our surname, Lim. Since he was born during Japanese occupation, he only had a Japanese name for the beginning of his life.” He picked up the next paper, a shadowy scan of a clearly crumpled piece of paper littered with characters. “This is my family’s register. The character for Lim is the one for responsibility.” He points out one section of the register, where the Hanja characters begin to blur together. “His first name was Shidae, from one of the characters of his given Japanese name, and Daehanminguk.” 

As it turns out, this is far from the entire story. While everything Byeonghwi mentioned is accurate, there is, of course, much more he didn't mention. The first person to discover this was the anonymous author of a Pannchoa post who asked in the title, “Did anyone do their research? Fable’s Byeonghwi has chinilpa relatives.” The author used the same service as Fable, except they started with the name of Byeonghwi’s great-grandfather. From there, as the poster described, his name was discovered as part of a list of Korean collaborators with imperial Japan. As if to damn Byeonghwi even further, Ssijok+ also surfaced ancestral records of his great-great-grandfather, whose name was found on the same list. The anonymous poster did not have to explain much more, as netizens quickly drew their own conclusions, which many of them left in the comments of the post.

At the time of this writing, the most popular comment, with nearly three thousand votes, reads, “Ah, it’s shameful, isn’t it? To be a normal citizen with chinilpa heritage is one thing. To be a Fable member with chinilpa heritage is fucking embarrassing.” 

To grasp the gravity of the situation—and to understand the conclusions netizens found themselves at—we have to take a few steps back. The term “chinilpa,” which appeared no less than ten times in the original post, and in nearly every comment, is a derogatory term used for Korean citizens who worked for or with the Japanese empire. The most prominent examples are the five imperial ministers who signed the Japan–Korea Treaty of 1905 that turned the Korean Empire into a Japanese protectorate. Lesser examples would include, according to Institute for Research in Collaborationists Activities’s list that Byeonghwi’s ancestors found themselves on, military officers, intellectuals, and officials who assisted the Japanese government.

Fable, on the other hand, have always presented themselves as pro-Korea, and lean into nationalist sentiment from time to time. From supporting South Korea’s claim to the Liancourt Rocks to Intak’s Yi Sang-inspired solo debut album, they present a fervent front of Korean culture.

In an effort to protect Byeonghwi’s image, Fabulists—the collective name for Fable’s fans—would end up digging a deeper grave. The Institute for Research in Collaborationists Activities created their list based on rank and title, rather than deeds. The days following the spread of the Pannchoa post nearly turned into a witch hunt as fans did their best to exonerate Byeonghwi and prove his ancestors were part of the list because it covered their jobs. Instead, they discovered, with all too much ease, that Shidae—Byeonghwi’s great-grandfather—inherited much of his standing from his father, Kitadai Hitoshi (来代 将). It is presumed that he had a Korean name, but much of the information related to him was found in relation to his Japanese name. Educated in Japan, he was appointed as a low-ranking government official shortly after returning to Korea. The official annexation of Korea saw his promotion to a moderately high-ranking finance minister. Perhaps the most incriminating piece of evidence of his wrongdoings was his signature of approval on the budget of the Manchukuo National Railway through modern day North Korea and China’s Jilin province.

While there is no way we in the twenty-first century can definitively understand Hitoshi or Shidae’s motivations, the remnants of their actions are enough proof for many to denounce them and now their descendant. It is possible that Hitoshi saw Japanese annexation as a path to Korea’s modernization—it wasn’t too long ago that Korea was the backwater of East Asia, rather than the country producing world-renowned idol groups and hit Netflix shows and Nobel Prize laureates—or he simply wanted a way to survive what looked like an inevitable force of empire at the time. It is also possible that he supported the ideology of imperial Japan.

In the modern day, having firmly painted Byeonghwi in a rather negative light, Fabulists turned to the next best thing: Fable’s agency, Zenith Entertainment. Their approach, however, was far from unified. They expressed a myriad of sentiments, both online and in person. Byeonghwi should leave the group. Byeonghwi should take a hiatus and reflect. Byeonghwi shouldn’t have to repent for the actions of his deceased ancestors. Byeonghwi shouldn’t apologize for something that happened a hundred years ago.

Clearly aware of the online firestorm, Zenith Entertainment began to quietly make their move. The timeline was chronicled by one of Fable’s most prominent Western fanbases, prodbyfable on Twitter. Byeonghwi’s video was first made private on YouTube, before being removed completely less than a day later. The ads, which had at first featured prominently across various social media platforms, grew less and less frequent. Ssijok+ even removed Fable’s promotional videos from their website. The original Pannchoa post also vanished around this time. 

Throughout this entire ordeal, the members of Fable were uncharacteristically quiet. Given that they had defended their honor when attacked via YouTube video essay, it came as a slight surprise that no one said a word in defense of Byeonghwi. The single exception came from an audio recording posted by a fan who attended a variety show shoot.

NOW PLAYING: An audio recording released by a Fabulist, originally uploaded by @a2uz7ha3k1 on TikTok, February 4, 2025 HOST: We’ve seen a lot of buzz online about you lately, Byeonghwi-ssi. Can you give us your side of the story? BYEONGHWI: [laughs] I’m preparing for our new album, of course. We’re looking forward to— HOST: [interrupting] I think I speak for quite a few people, Byeonghwi-ssi, when I say that what I really mean is were your ancestors collaborators? [silence] KIYOUNG: You shouldn’t ask him questions like that. HOST: Don’t you think your fans deserve to know the truth about who they’re supporting? MINGEUN: [softly] Ow. ANDREW: Byeonghwi is the same person our fans have always known. He isn’t responsible for what his great-grandfather did. 

The audio clip went viral immediately. It spread past the confines of online k-pop spaces, becoming more of a general online controversy rather than one centering k-pop idols. A version of the clip with English subtitles appeared on my For You page, which is how I first learned about it. As its popularity grew, k-pop fans were quick to explain what exactly was so bad about Byeonghwi’s situation. At the peak of the online discourse, one viral Twitter thread compared Byeonghwi’s relatives to Jews who worked with or for Nazi Germany.

As the dust settled, Fabulists finally found the time to ask the next pressing question: what about Fable’s newest album, set to release in less than two weeks? (And then the less pressing and mostly unasked question: if Byeonghwi’s ancestors collaborated, who else might have chinilpa relations?)

Zenith Entertainment released their only official statement on the situation on February 9. The English version of the letter reads as follows:

Hello, this is Zenith Entertainment. Over the past two weeks, we have been saddened to see the reactions of Fabulists to Byeonghwi’s personal history. We will take proper legal action against those who seek to defame our artists. Fable has always strived to fully represent the past and provide an accurate depiction of history. There are parts of history that many would find embarrassing, shameful, or otherwise repugnant. It is our duty to recognize and acknowledge these events in order to ensure that they will not happen again. Although we recognize that many Fabulists will disagree with our perspective, we do not wish to erase or ignore the actions and repercussions of Byeonghwi’s ancestors. Byeonghwi will remain a member of Fable, although he will not be participating in the group’s fifth album. In order for the other members to properly prepare, 자수성가 (自手成家) will be released on February 20, 2025. We ask that you continue to show Fable the same love and support.

Like the original video, this statement was also quickly picked apart. Fabulists were quick to point out that it took them two weeks to prepare this, and they went as far as to acknowledge that fact within the statement. “Proper legal action” was also met with cynicism, given that it came from a company who waited until a physical assault took place to try to press charges against a stalker. With its defense of Byeonghwi and no apology, as is usual in any sort of k-pop controversy, Fabulists began to run the same cycle of debates over whether or not he has anything to apologize for.

Within the scope of South Korea’s modern landscape, Byeonghwi’s case is far from unique. In fact, it bears a startling resemblance to the twenty-year-old situation of politician Shin Ki-nam. A member of the liberal Uri Party, he supported President Roh Moo-hyun’s investigations of Japanese collaborators. The same investigation discovered that Shin’s father was a member of the colonial police force, and therefore ripe for chinilpa accusations, in the same way Fable’s initial innocent ad campaign resulted in much more than Byeonghwi bargained for.

Fable’s next album is still slated to release on February 20.

[pickledpascal]

Hold Me Like Water

Chapter One: The Best of the World in the Palm of Our Hands

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2k

Hold Me Like Water Masterlist

Next Chapter |

May 2013,

Being on a set for one of the X-Men films was not what Maya envisioned when she became an actress. It was the first big-budget movie she had ever been a part of and she assumed it would be the only, if she was honest. 

The director wanted a local unknown for a character he had the writers make up for the film: a Native American mutant with water abilities. Maya thought she’d give it a shot since she only lived a province away in Nunavut and the production was focused in Quebec. She never imagined she’d get the job. 

Or that they’d let her sister be a part of it too. 

Maya was sitting in a chair in the middle of the makeup trailer, hands in her lap as her younger sister, Sakari, was using a Q-tip to wipe off the excess makeup covering her facial tattoos.

“I can’t believe they got your shade wrong,” Sakari huffed, glancing at a few of the other makeup artists in the trailer. Both of them were white. “They made you yellow. And then your Kakiniit was horribly treated too. Unforgivable.” 

Maya chuckled. Her sister had the rage of any young person, outspoken about any little thing that could be considered insensitive. Sometimes genuinely. Sometimes to take the piss out on people. Maya could not relate though they were only four years apart. She was twenty-three while Sakari was eighteen, her birthday was in October. 

Maya was usually a very calm person so it was nice to have someone like Sakari to fight for her. 

She was ushered onto the set after she was done with makeup, with Sakari following behind her. Maya looked around like a fish out of water because she was. The set was busy with activity, all sorts of people passed in all different directions. It was a far cry from the calm, sometimes one-person crews she was used to working with back in Nunavut. 

“Hey!” Exclaimed an accented voice. Maya turned to see Hugh Jackman coming up to them. Right, she was supposed to act alongside him for a lot of the film. He had his signature Wolverine hairstyle and mutton chops. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He beamed, offering a hand for her to shake. 

“You have?” Maya’s heart fluttered as she shook his hand firmly. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous now. Maybe it was the fact that he greeted her so warmly or that people talked about her. Positively, she assumed.

Hugh looked at her like she was insane for a moment. “Of course, Singer loved your audition. Couldn’t stop talking about how perfect you were for the part.” He grinned and then looked at Sakari. “And who might you be?”

Sakari glanced at Maya, telepathically telling her older sister that she would try her best to be civil. She mustered up a smile. “I’m her sister. And makeup artist since forever.” 

“Oh, wonderful!” Hugh’s face brightened before his eyes focused on Maya’s face to admire Sakari’s work. “Are those markings a part of the makeup?” He wondered aloud. 

Maya cut off Sakari before she could speak. “No, uh, they’re my real tattoos.” She had a feeling something like this would happen so she just wanted to speed through it rather than make a big deal about it.

Hugh was a goddamn Australian. She couldn’t imagine, out of everyone on set, that he would have met an Inuit before her. Let alone one with facial markings like hers. She was expecting comments about how it was weird to have tattoos on her face, she got that a lot when she was simply at the grocery store picking up specialty items in Montreal for her mother.

Instead, he stared like he wanted to touch her face and admire the lines up close. “They’re quite beautiful.” He mused.

Maya wasn’t sure what to say to that. And, for the first time in a while, Sakari felt the same way. Even the tamest reaction to their Kakiniit was filled with a bit of underlying disgust. Why would they “ruin” their faces? Of course these reactions were usually from white people.

The conversation was interrupted by the first assistant director telling them to get to their marks.

Acting for Maya always came easy. She was never classically trained but she had been in quite a few small-budget films up to this point so she knew how to embody a character. Especially a character that was so similar to herself.

Since her audition, many changes have been made to her character. Rather than being ambiguously Native American, they changed it to an Inuit character to fit Maya better. They liked her tattoos and thought it seemed cool to have the markings on a mutant. Singer probably thought it looked exotic but Maya wasn’t going to complain. Sakari could do that for her.

After filming ended for the day, Maya made it back to her trailer with Sakari. Maya’s makeup was taken off and she was scrolling through her email on her computer while her sister was judging the wardrobe for the next day.

Sakari pursed her lips as she grabbed a pair of bell bottoms from the rack. “None of these pieces are period accurate. And these tops do not match your skin tone.” She put the pants back on the rack and took out her phone. “I think Mom had some stuff from the seventies, we should see what fits you.”

Maya looked up over the top of her laptop. “Mom is your height.” She raised an eyebrow. “Shorter, even.” 

Maya was six-foot-one. Taller than the average woman, let alone an Inuit woman. Her father was tall but shorter than her by a few inches. Her family liked to make jokes about her height since she was the tallest—some genetic miracle or gift from the Heavens.

“True,” Sakari shrugged, “But I can work with them. You know I’m great with a needle and thread.”

Maya shook her head and let out a soft chuckle, returning to her email. Her agent and one of her best friends, Arlo, was sending her email after email asking about how work was.

Then there was a knock on the trailer door. Maya glanced at her phone for the time. It was evening but it wasn’t late. “Who is it?” She asked, raising her voice so the person on the other side could hear. 

“It’s Hugh!” He responded.

Sakari and Maya shared a look. “It’s open!” The older sister said.

The door opened revealing Hugh. He shut the door behind him as he entered. He was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. It looked a little funny seeing him in such normal clothes with those mutton chops and that hair. 

“I just wanted to say you did amazing work today, Maya.” He said warmly. She could tell he actually meant it and that made her heart flip again. 

She stood up from the couch, setting her laptop off to the side. “Thank you,” She said bashfully, “It’s not hard to act when they reworked the character to be closer to myself.”

“Still.” Hugh urged with a kind smile. “I almost believed you could control water.” He teased, lowering his voice as if he was telling a secret. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time Maya had played a character that could bend water. Or some variation of herself that could. But Hugh probably wouldn’t know what she was talking about. She simply nodded and smiled in response. 

Hugh clasped his hands together, “The cast wants to go out for drinks tonight—the younger cast, at least. Would you like to come with?” He looked from Maya to Sakari. The invitation was for both of them.

“Drinks with James McAvoy? Count me in.” Sakari grinned, wrapping an arm around Maya’s shoulder, ultimately making her lean down to her height. 

“I don’t think she’ll give me a choice.” Maya told Hugh, nudging her sister’s side with her elbow. “We’ll go.” She nodded. 

“Great!” He exclaimed.

Hugh then exchanged numbers with Maya and Sakari so he could text them the place they were meeting at. It wasn’t too far from set so it wouldn’t take too long to get there. They could probably walk if they felt like it. Maya and Sakari weren’t famous so it wasn’t like anyone would be stopping them. 

When Hugh left, Sakari turned to Maya and shook her head. A disbelieving look was on her face. “I can’t believe you’re being normal. Didn’t you have a crush on him when he was in the first three movies?” 

“When I was ten.” Maya stared blankly at Sakari. “Plus, he’s my co-worker now. And married. Having a crush on him would be weird.”

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Sakari of that or herself. Hugh was an attractive man. Anyone with eyes could see that. Maya just couldn’t stand the thought of possibly revitalizing her crush, she would feel guilty even if she decided not to do anything about it. 

At the bar, a lot of the “past” cast was drinking shots, cocktails, and just about anything they could get their hands on. Sakari immediately left Maya’s side to try and chat up James and Michael. 

So Maya decided to get a Manhattan and found a booth in the corner of the bar where it was quieter. She wasn’t much of a partier, even in college. But it was fun to watch people make decisions they’d regret the next morning. 

“May I sit with you?” Hugh asked with a cocktail glass in hand. 

Maya looked up at him and nodded. “Oh. Sure.” She sipped from her glass.

He sat across from her, setting his forearms on the table. He mirrored her, eyes trailing over her body to read if she was uncomfortable or not. “What did you do before this?” He asked softly.

“A lot of different things. Mostly small-budget Indie films. Nowhere near this big and grand.” Maya explained with a shy smile.

She couldn’t believe she was talking to Hugh Jackman about her career. Especially since he had such an intriguing, varied filmography. The X-Men saga was just one of many. The Prestige, Kate & Leopold, and—goddamn—Prisoners was about to come out but she was sure it would be amazing if the trailers were anything to go by. She admired him for his acting, too, not just his looks. 

“What are they usually about?” He seemed very interested in her.

Maya licked her lips, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “A lot of them were horror.” That made him raise his eyebrows in surprise. “But there were also some that were just kind of slice-of-life for an Inuit in Nunavut.”

“Right.” Hugh grinned, “I may have to find these films. Do my research on you.” He teased. 

Maya didn’t want to imagine Hugh watching her on TV getting her leg chopped off or mauled by a polar bear. 

“What made you take this job?” His eyes focused on her face as if he was properly taking in the markings again.

Maya played with the edge of the napkin underneath her glass. “My friend sent me the casting call information. It was pretty vague on what it was for, so I decided to give it a shot, not really thinking much of it.” She chuckled. Her lips quirked up into a small smile.

“That’s how I got my first TV show. I did the audition not thinking I’d get it so I was fairly relaxed.” He chuckled. “It’s always the thing you don’t expect, isn’t it?”

She stared at Hugh for a second before her eyes flickered down to her half-full glass. Her smile widened. “I guess so.”

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I'm not quite sure if you've been asked this before, so I ask anyway. :).

What do you think are the key cultural differences between Rohan and Gondor that make them seperately unique? (Of course, excluding things like physical features and geography.) I have a deep love for Rohan and a neutral boring stance on Gondor, so I've been struggling to rid my mind of; "Rohan the beautiful country with rich history and culture" and; "the other guys." Just wondering what you think would make someone from the Rohirrim speak proudly about their country, and someone from Gondor do the same.

Do you have any thoughts?

Ooh, Anon, you are going to get me in trouble because I could very easily also give an answer that boils down to, “Rohan is everything, and Gondor is…there.” 😂 That’s an exaggeration, of course, but (like you!) I happen to like Rohan best and so I naturally find everything about them to be more interesting than anywhere else in Middle Earth. But, Rohan and Gondor are (gn) bros, and in that spirit I do think I can put myself in their shoes and articulate a reasonable argument on their behalf!

To me, the key to understanding a lot of the differences between the two lands comes from their respective ages. Relative to Rohan, Gondor is ancient; they’d been around for thousands of years before Rohan ever existed, and their culture is even older than that through the Númenoreans. They have an incredible and extremely well documented cultural and historical legacy — art and architecture, literature and lore, political/military conquest and victory — that is far deeper, on a far larger scale and with far broader reach than anything the Rohirrim could even dream of.

Gondor was an epic empire in every sense of the word, and we real life readers can/should side-eye that. But there’s no denying the impact that would have had on their culture. There are few parts of Middle Earth (at least, the parts we get to know anything about!) that don’t have at least some evidence of Gondorian influence, whether that is art like the argonath, architecture like the tower of orthanc, or even the Common Speech that is spoken every day all over the continent and comes from the language of their ancestors. Conversely, you’d also find influences from everywhere else in Gondor, as it has a great port, a bustling capital and far flung provinces and territories that went in and out of its control over the ages. So there would have been a very cosmopolitan feel in a place like Minas Tirith, with visitors and emissaries from all over who enriched the local culture with their own influences and ideas over time. I think Gondorians would be very proud of all of this! They are sophistication personified!

Having such strong ties to a deep and powerful legacy can be a double edged sword, though, as we are told the Gondorians are so fixated on remembering and honoring their past that (by the 3rd Age, at least) they aren’t always well focused on the present. And that’s where Rohan comes in! They’re babies by comparison, with only 500 years or so of formal Rohirrim history and culture at the time of LOTR. Of course they have memories and teachings of things that pre-dated Rohan (the practices and legacy of the Northmen, for example) but that’s indirect and attenuated in a way that Gondor’s continuous, consistent history is not.* The Rohirrim are a young, dynamic people, still on the rise while Gondor is declining (not my words! Those are Faramir’s!). Gondor’s legacy has been set for a long time, but Rohan’s is still forming.

So for that reason, I think if you asked a Rohirrim about things they were proud of, they’d be less likely to cite some physical artifact or lore of their (relatively short) past and more likely to point to the more intangible attributes that already define them as a people and are the foundation of the legacy that they’re in the midst of building. That means things like their deep and instinctual understanding of the plains and mountains of their land; their symbiotic relationship with their horses, which are the best in all of Middle Earth, thankyouverymuch; their shared cultural identity as “a fell people,” those who get difficult shit done under hard circumstances because they have grit and determination and an unerring sense of loyalty (this is a country whose two biggest foundational historical events both involved coming to the aid of an ally in need!).

That’s not to say that they don’t care about or appreciate Rohirrim history, art, architecture, poetry, songs and other finer things; they just don’t fetishize that stuff the way that Gondor is inclined to do because it’s not yet as calcified into their identity. They’re not as concerned with sophistication and having fancy, ancient traditions, nor with having any kind of broader cultural impact outside of their own land. They’re comfortable with who they are, their own language, and their own ways, and they’re just focused on getting themselves and their friends from one day to the next.

So, I don’t know, my Rohan bias is probably still showing; it just can’t be helped. But I do both a) stand by my answer; and b) honestly and legitimately assert that I am cool with a lot of Gondorian stuff and love my Gondor-loving mutuals even if it still feels like I shaded them a bit in my answer!!!

Thanks for the question — I think it’s a SUPER interesting one!!! ♥️ And I’d be glad as always to hear others’ takes, even if they conflict with mine!

*In this one respect, I liken the Rohirrim to my experience as a modern American. I know my own country’s short history really well. But no part of my family is native to this land, and my familiarity with the history and culture of my Irish or Lithuanian ancestors is tenuous — and I’m separated from them by less time than the LOTR-current Rohirrim were from the Northmen! So the whole concept of “history” means something much different when you’re from a place like that vs a society where people have been all together in the same spot for thousands of years.

[wyattjohnston]

never said a thing - pierre luc dubois

summary: everyone knows that luc wants a trade... you're just the only person he hasn't told directly.

word count: 2,667

main character: gender neutral reader

note: this is a very very late pinch hitter fic for @pcttymcrlecu as part of the summer fic exchange 2k23. thank you for your patience!

i had to fudge the timeline because i didn't realise luc's trade request happened post-season. i really feel like it happened before the trade deadline

You’d known about Luc’s trade requests before you met him—the entire city of Winnipeg, the province of Manitoba and the entire NHL fan base knew. It was inescapable, just like it had been when he was moved to Winnipeg after requesting a trade out of Columbus.

You were happier about the first one, less so about the second and that only got worse as time went on and the official third one came.

Meeting Luc wasn’t anything you’d planned but had still taken longer than you’d expected it to. Winnipeg wasn’t small, though it certainly wasn’t the largest city, and everyone seemingly had some sort of connection to the Jets—even if it was a Six Degrees of Mark Scheifele sort of deal.

A friend of a friend knew where the younger Jets players liked to spend their free time, as if that wasn’t widely known by everyone in their 20s anyway, and you found yourself in the same bar as Luc, Logan and Jansen.

You found yourself at Luc’s house a lot after that.

Nobody seemed to mind the weird, nebulous state of your relationship—situationship is probably the best word to describe everything that you were. It hadn’t mattered, not really, that you showed up at Luc’s house at the first text with little care for the time he sent his you up? text because he was always just as quick to show up when you sent him a photo of your empty bed without any words to accompany it.

It was always You and Luc, even though there was no You and Luc.

The trade request rumours go unmentioned in the time you spend together—the first alleged request being negated by a one-year contract and the second, the most recent, never coming up. You couldn’t forget them, though. You caught yourself looking at Luc when his back was turned, hoping you could will him to talk to you. Hoping he would explain the request. Hoping he would tell you directly.

Time passed, though, without any mention from Luc that he no longer wanted to be in Winnipeg. Without any mention that whatever You and Luc were had an expiration date.

The Jets lost four games in a row, ending their season in the first round of the playoffs. It hurt because they’re your team—a crushing disappointment especially after winning the first game so soundly and taking game 3 to second overtime—and you watched every game from start to finish.

It was another turning point in your situationship with Luc. As much as you were always a text message away, Luc never asked right after road trips. You never expected him to. It was a boundary set in place that you were more than happy to adhere to.

Except.

The text wasn’t even the usual you up? but an explicit come over that had your heart rate spiking. It was the most direct either of you had ever been and you didn’t know what it meant at all.

He’d barely arrived home when you were buzzed into the building if the suitcase at the door was any indication. He looked exhausted, standing beside the intercom with his forehead pressed against the wall.

You didn’t wait before moving towards him, your footsteps disgustingly loud in the otherwise silent apartment, and pressed your forehead into the space between his shoulder blades.

In a hoarse voice, muffled by the wall he was leaning against, Luc asked, “When’s it my turn to win?”

He wasn’t crying, something you were grateful for because you knew you were ill equipped to deal with it, but he may well have been. The sagging of his limbs, so tired and dejected that his muscles weren’t even tense, and the defeat in his voice were foreign to you.

“What do you need from me?” you asked, unable to think of anything else and not wanting to make a wrong move and upset him even more.

He signed, his entire body shaking with it, and admitted that he just wanted to go to bed.

You agreed, despite it being far from what you’d gone for. Moving him was easy; he put up no resistance as you led him down to his room. You’d never seen him so low, never moved him so easily, and, as many times as you had undressed each other in that very room, taking his clothes off was the strangest part of it all.

He helped you undress him in so much as he moved his limbs when he needed to, but he was very much just doing as he was told.

“You’ve got so many more years in you, Luc,” you said when you were finally laying in the bed.

“It never feels that way.”

Waking up in Luc’s bed wasn’t strange by any means, nor, quite frankly, was the morning wood pressed against your lower back. Being the familiar territory that it was, you roused Luc from his sleep and started your morning the right way.

He was visibly happier than the night before—or, maybe not happier but definitely less noticeably distraught—and falling into old habits was simple and welcomed by both of you. The closeness, physical and emotional, something he needed judging by the way he held you through breathy moans.

It wasn’t until you were showered and sitting at his kitchen island with a coffee as he got ready for end-of-season interviews, grumbling as he moved throughout the house.

Your timing probably wasn’t the best, waiting until you were standing at his front door saying goodbye just before he fronted the media, but you had never shied from the hard conversations. Even if you delayed them until the last—often worst—possible moment.

“I’ll see you when you’re back for training camp?” you asked tentatively, wringing your hands in your lap.

Luc hesitated for so long that you thought he might never say anything. He couldn’t meet your eye when he said, “Yeah. End of August, probably.”

You watched him carefully, scrutinising the painful casualness of his response, the lack of any giveaways that he was lying or that he hoped what he was saying wasn’t true.

You knew too much, though.

His casual demeanour faltered as you met him with an equally long silence—you weren’t hesitating for any reason other than to make him uncomfortable.

He shifted his feet and looked everywhere in the room except at you. He was opening his mouth to speak when you finally decided to keep talking, cutting him off.

“Are you ever going to talk to me about requesting a trade?”

Luc’s demeanour changed from confused to defensive immediately when he asked, “Do I need to?”

“I mean… yeah?” you asked, stumbling over your words. “You were really just going to leave for the summer and never come back?”

“I—” The colour drained from his face. “Yeah.”

With your hands pulling at the bottom of your hoodie, you felt your heart rise into your throat. There wasn’t anything else for you to say, which was a blessing because if you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure what would have come out.

You nodded once, stiffly, and then again after a beat before you let the barstool screech against the tiles as you stood. He didn’t make any move to stop you as you grabbed your purse, and you could feel him staring as you walked out the door. You cursed the apartment building for having quiet closing doors when all that would have made you feel better was hearing something slam behind you.

June came and went, July disappeared as quick as it arrived and August… well August dragged on painfully.

You worked through the perfect weather and the perfect photos your friends posted of their perfect vacations. It wasn’t all that different from every other summer since you graduated and it was no different to the previous summer because you didn’t see him then anyway.

A lot of energy had been spent trying to get him out of your mind, not least because all of your work colleagues seemingly spent their every waking moment talking about Pierre-Luc Dubois and his trade request. When the trade to LA had finally happened, all they could talk about was “eight years and eight point five million, who does he think he is?” or “he’s just going to ask for another trade in 2 years so jokes on them!”

You, though? Mostly you’d been able to move past it. August rolled around and you didn’t care about Pierre-Luc Dubois.

Until, that is, you were standing in The Forks Market, ready to eat your weight in mini donuts because it had been a long, long week, and, above every other head you saw him.

You couldn’t leave in the rush that you wanted to, or at least suddenly speedrun the market, because you did want your donuts more than you wanted to leave so you turned your head, tried to hide behind some other people and hoped that he’d never spot you.

That was too much to ask for, of course.

The stall called your name and you knew that everybody in the immediate vicinity had heard it but still you collected your food and tried to make a beeline for the exit only to have your name called again.

You stopped but didn’t turn around, hoping that maybe Luc would just turn and leave but you knew that was foolish. You felt his presence as he got closer, his body so much larger than those around him that even without seeing him you just knew.

He said your name, in such a deceptively soft voice that you had no choice but to turn around, to look at him and see a sorrow on his face that you hadn’t ever expected. Definitely nothing you’d ever seen before.

“You got something to say or?” you prompted when he just continued to stare at you.

“How are you?”

You recoiled at the question, your eyebrows pulling together, followed by an eye roll so rapid that it actually hurt. Luc flinched himself but didn’t rush to say anything else.

“That’s not the conversation I want to have,” you said, brutally honest. “Especially not with you. So, I’m going to take my food and leave. Enjoy LA.”

You stepped away, causing him to stand up straighter and reach for you—but only briefly before he thought better of it. Still, he said, rushed, “Come back to mine.”

“And why should I do that?”

“I have—” he cleared his throat. “I have to talk to you and I don’t want to do that here.”

You hesitated but ultimately agreed when curiosity got the better of you. As much as you’d not wanted to think about him, it had been impossible to shake the desire for any sort of explanation.

Walking into his apartment again didn’t feel like a bad idea, but it did feel weird to see it mostly empty with packing boxes stacked against the walls. You didn’t need to be reminded that he was going—gone—and yet the reminder still had you looking away instantly back to Luc.

Luc pulled out the food that he’d bought at the market—an actual meal—and set it down on the kitchen island where the only remaining seats in his apartment were, just three barstools.

“I hope they gave you a fork because I don’t have any cutlery,” he said sheepishly.

You sat down beside him, placed your own bag down and told him, smiling to yourself, “I don’t think I need a fork to eat mini donuts.”

The laugh that erupted from him shocked both of you. You more so, you thought, because you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him laugh so heartily, so carefree. It ended up being the reason for your abrupt silence, the joy being pulled from you and a donut being shoved into your mouth to avoid any questioning.

He didn’t seem to notice that your laughter had stopped for any reason other than deciding to eat, so he ate his curry still smiling and starting a conversation about Ryan Gosling as Ken that you had to admit was endearing even if you didn’t want to. Your own contribution to that conversation was minimal despite how much you had enjoyed the movie in the first place.

“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” you asked during a break in the conversation where Luc was getting ready to start playing the movie’s soundtrack. That was so far past normal that you had to get out of it, that you had to bring him back to the reason you’d even gone to his apartment in the first place.

Luc looked chastised as he put his phone back down on the table. He turned the stool so that he was facing you, the one stool still in between you, and all joy had fallen from his face. He reached one hand out, resting it on the empty stool, and inhaled.

“I asked for a trade.”

“So, I heard.”

“I can’t keep losing.”

“Oh,” you said, feigning sympathy, “Because the Kings got so much further than the Jets did. Understandable.”

Whatever was left of his openness disappeared, his face making it clear that he’d shuttered. You didn’t care, really, when that was the lame excuse you’d gotten.

“I don’t even care about that,” you said, waving off the poor excuse. “Honestly, I don’t care that you requested it because whatever it’s your career and your life, you can leave if you want—why didn’t you tell me, Luc? If I hadn’t asked, I really don’t think you would have told me.”

“I should have,” he admitted, without hesitation, his face relaxing into something somewhat remorseful. “I know I should have. Even if we’re just… casual, fuckbuddies, whatever we’re calling it, of course I should have told you. It just took me until you got mad for me to realise that.”

 “What? You didn’t realise I was human until that moment?”

“I didn’t realise you cared.”

That chastened you quite effectively, because it was true that you’d never given much—or any—indication that it was more than just sex. Not a great deal more, at least not until you thought you were going to lose him, but enough that the friends in friends-with-benefits had clearly meant a lot more to you than it did to him. You couldn’t have expected him to know that when your conversations were limited to if the roads were okay on the drive to one another’s place.

You admitted, quietly, your eyes averted to your lap, “I don’t know if I did until I heard you wanted out. Then I thought about it at length and by the time I asked you about it… Lying to me is just about the worst thing you could have done.”

“I didn’t think you’d bring it up,” he said slowly. “I really just thought you would leave; I’d go back to Quebec and then, when the season started, I’d be somewhere else and then you asked and… I realised I cared about leaving you behind.”

Your eyes fell shut, overwhelmed by what he’d told you. You were sure nobody had ever cared about leaving you behind before. You wondered, briefly, how long it would have taken Luc to contact you if he hadn’t seen you that evening, though it was something that could be found out later. More pressing was the confession you’d just received.

Your eyes opened, and Luc was looking at you with a softness and longing that overwhelmed you all over again. All you did was laugh nervously, shyly, to yourself, and tell him, “I don’t even know anything about you that I haven’t learnt from the Jets’ broadcasts.”

“I don’t think I know anything about you either,” he confessed, unabashed. “I want to learn; if you want to teach me.”

Please consider leaving feedback—reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

i forgot i have a tag list rip (very sorry if you’ve already seen the fic!!)

@fallinallincurls @spine-buster @2manytabsopen @xcicix @sorryjustafangirl @senditcolton @shinyfalcon4 @laurenairay @jarmorie @diary-of-jj @its-bitchin-belle-bitches @sssstarstruck @pr3nt1ss

[thrill-seeker-vn]

I am sorry to all my Rivals to Lovers… uh…. lovers… but Hannie is no longer gonna be a childhood rival. I just realized how strange it would for your childhood rival to like… come to your mom’s funeral… and yeah after I thought about it for five minutes I realized it was so strange and out of place it would be better to not include that at all 😭😭 

Instead they’ll still come from a family of famous lawyers that own the biggest law firm in the Province. And MC will only recall seeing their face on billboards around the province as they come back from college, and then recall that they went to the same private school briefly when MC had the money to go to a private school for a year. But Hannie and MC wouldn’t have had much interaction. 

The reason Hannie was at the funeral is because they helped with the drafting of your mother’s will a while back, and will be helping you with the legal process. They’re a defense attorney by trade, but also know a bunch about estate administration.

But once again… I am so sorry to everyone I have disappointed by removing a rivals to lovers 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry. It was just too strange to me 😭😭😭

[criizz]

Someone who i can talk to, please?

I got a message from a friend telling me that many of my churchmates from my hometown are commenting about my dancing and saying my outfit and dancing are inappropriate and sinful.

The context is about a post I made on social media about my dance classes, which I do weekly. It's a hobby because dancing has always been my passion. When I became an adult with responsibilities, I made dancing my way of caring for myself. Partida di pa ako ako naka bra or panty when I do the dance ha.

It’s partly because of the style—when we dance, I wear a T-shirt that sometimes umaangat pag nakataas ang kamay or sleeveless tops, similar to how others wear sports bras at the gym.

My friend, who’s also a church leader, said she’s been defending me for a long time, but now she feels ipit na ipit na and doesn’t know what to do anymore.

I apologized to her naman & thanked her for defending me, and appreciated her honesty in telling me about the situation.

This church community in my small province has been my family since I was a child. I was active in ministry for years until I moved to the city 4 years ago for work. I still go to church here and continue my faith, but I haven’t joined the ministry here since they have their own standards. But I don’t have the same kind of friends here as I did in my hometown church.

Right now, I feel hurt and ashamed. It’s painful to know that’s how they see me now i feel like pag pupunta ako sa church na yun trapo ako unlike them na very high and bery holy. I even feel embarrassed to face them. I’m confused. Should I delete my videos, even though they’re something I’m proud of? I feel like I need to consider what they think about me. At the same time, I want to stand up for myself because my intentions are pure. I’m not doing anything wrong. I just want to enjoy my hobby.

I’m crying while typing this. Hope there will be good days ahead.

[t0ast-ghost]

S2 episode 25 (Bread And Circuses) oh goodness oh my. I’m not ready. I’m so ready.

Okay get ready:

- They’re all standing on the enterprise bridge completely still. As if in tableau.

- Of course they’re beaming down to a dangerous planet with only the top three officers. Why even use reason at this point.

- Kirk outside the ship in his green shirt <3 (I keep thinking of it as his pjs)

- McCoy is very hostile towards Spock today. Hope they don’t get put in a situation with sharp objects…

- “Once, just once, I’d like to land someplace and say, ‘behold, I am the archangel Gabriel.’” “I fail to see the humour in that situation, Doctor.” “Naturally. You could hardly claim to be an angel with those point ears, Mr. Spock. But say you landed someplace with a pitchfork.” This is proving my theory that they’re the angel and devil on Kirk’s shoulders

- “We come from another… province.” Canadian moment

- “What do you call those?” “I call them ears.” There is no end to Spock’s audacity

- “Captain, I thought you might find this interesting.” Spock hands Kirk a newspaper with a shirtless man on the cover

- “Will you help us?” No one can outright deny this twunk

- Spock in a hat

- McCoy in a regular short sleeve shirt and bell bottom pants is <3

- no words for this one

- it’s like this episodes message is mirroring our own world or something… nah

- McCoy is already picking fights. Spock is indulging him. They’re not enemies to lovers. They’re enemies AND lovers.

- McCoy not afraid to slap a bitch

- So Merrick killed all of his crew… right?

- McCoy and Spock just flirting (debating) in public

- AND they threatened McCoy and Spock

- As Jim takes the communicator to assumedly order the crew down he has a shit eating grin… so it’s safe to assume he’s not gonna do that

- “Must you always be so blasted honest?!”

- He’s just talking on his cellphone

- Scotty is talking to his diary, Uhura is listening

- Jim is so scared for what’s about to happen

- McCoy and Spock about to face off against two shirtless men

- “I don’t mind fighting but… why you?” That gladiator took one look at them and went, ‘why are they making us fight these two nerds?’

- Camera goes to McCoy -> sound guy ups the catcalls

- I love Spock fighting really hard in the background and McCoy just.. he don’t want to

- “Do you need any help, Doctor?” “What ever gave you that idea?” “[random gladiator]Fight, you pointed eared freak!” “You tell him, buster! Of all the completely… ridiculous, illogical questions I ever heard in my life!” Then Bones falls on his ass and Spock comes to his rescue, happily ever after

- Those pants make Kirk’s ass look flat… unfair

- Spock trying to break the bars while McCoy sits in the most strange way possible

- Spock has tried to get them out the same way fifteen times. He wants his boyfriends safe.

- Me: awww McCoy and Spock having a genuine moment… nope they can’t last ten seconds (maybe they are divorced)

- McCoy pins Spock against the wall of the cell to make his point

- Spock’s pouty expression…

- “Why you wouldn’t know what to do with a genuine warm decent feeling.” “Really doctor?” They’re giving each other ‘fuck me’ eyes

- Their fight ended with “I’m worried about Jim too” like McCoy knows Spock feels emotions but represses them and is ‘trying’ to understand him

- Kirk, I implore you not to kiss this woman- that went out the window so fast

- Never mind what I said about the pants making his ass flat. I was severely wrong. Forgive me.

- KIRK STRAIGHT UP KILLED THOSE GUYS

- Ohhh Merrick stole the communicator

- Kirk giving commendation to Scotty for not breaking the prime directive is priceless. ‘Good self control, Mr Scott.’

- I love how Spock and McCoy are both saying things about Flavius (agreeing with each other)and as soon as Spock speaks about studying the sun religion, McCoy looks like he’s going to explode

I both like and hate the relationship they have with Spock and McCoy in this one cause it’s so magnetic but I don’t know if it’ll ever be evolved past this and that makes me sad.

Masterpost

Episode written by Gene Roddenberry and Gene L. Coon

[tmwcs]

S E 7 E N : M A M M O N P A R T F O 4 R

Warnings: Just lots of fluff, mentions of bodies being mutiliated, torn, shredded, turned into statues, enveloped by metals, people getting smacked, (they had it coming) and i think that's it really.

You both continued to walk as he leads you to a nearby alley where he found Kimchi and the other stray cats.  

“Okay, they’re around here somewhere.” He remarks as he burns a hole into the bag with his index finger, the same manner of how he burned the piece of hair off that woman from the store and empties the contents of the bag entirely onto the ground.  

You watched as numerous cats come about from all over and out of hiding as they quickly run up to Jungwon’s squatted form and begin feasting on the dumped food.  He pets and rubs each one, remaining low on the ground. You step over and kneel beside him and start petting some of them.  

He smirks as he side glances your display of affection towards the cats, noting how you rubbed their chin or stroked their ears.  

“You’re very good with them. I can tell that all of mine are going to love you.” he remarks.

“I’m going to bring all of these ones back home too, along with Kimchi.”  

You raised a brow and continued petting the cats.

 “They must be very happy and grateful that you take care of them.” You softly spoke out.  

He looks at you with the utmost sentimentality grazing his face.  

“I think they are…yeah.” He softly responds back.

Standing back up, he loops his arm around your waist and gently pulls you back up with him.  

“We’ll let them eat for now. Let’s go and take a nice little walk.” He issues softly as he taps the tip of your nose.  

You nod.  

The walk through the central park of the city, which was practically in ruins since it hadn’t been maintained since the angel’s appeared, provided a nice sense of privacy as the overgrown foliage secluded you both out of sight.

Come up against a brick wall from a monument nearby, he continues to swing your hand as he holds onto it while walking, his other hand tucked casually into his pocket.  

“So tell me….are you afraid to die?” he asks. 

You shook your head. “To be honest…it isn’t death that makes me scared…its….i don’t want to die by those things…” 

Already knowing to what you were referring to, he nods.  “yeah…can’t say I blame you. If I was a human, I’d damn sure wouldn’t want to die by them…they’re so…unnecessary.” He remarks.  

You nodded.  

“Do you know them?...the Angels?” you inquire.  

He sighs out.  

“Yeah…I do….so do my brothers. We don’t get along with them…bad history.” He remarks as he continues to slightly swing your hand with his.  

“Oh….” You simply responded with.

“Can you tell more about….home?”  

Surprised by your notion of referring his home as your own, he smiles widely as he pulls you in slightly by the hold of your hand.

 “Yeah….what do you want to know? I’ll tell you whatever you like.”

 You slightly smirked before asking.

“Um…well…what’s the scenery like, I guess.”  

He shifts his gaze over to the side and looked inquisitive for a moment.  

“Mmm…well, it depends which province you go to. It’s a very large place...in fact, it’s somewhat infinite. But most of the time I stay within my own region, visiting my brothers a few times here and there. My territory has a lot of trees and cat houses that I build, also hammocks. The lions love the hammocks. Some parts of it resembles the plains of Africa, while others resemble the mountainous landscapes of Asia. There’s even snow in some parts, for the snow leopards.”  

He continues to elaborate, and you couldn’t hide it, it was rather interesting to find out more about where he and his brothers came from, which you could only suspect was, Hell…yet the way he described the setting of his territorial rule, it was nothing like you would have imagined. Trees? Grass? Snow? Mountains? Filled with all sorts of feline species? It sounded more like a zoo than anything else. 

“It sounds really nice.” You remarked.

 He softly responds as he looks at you, once again his expression was tender and loving.  

“yeah….it is.” He runs his fingers through your hair.

“Pretty kitten.”  Pulling you in, your chest pressed up against his, you felt his heartbeat. Slightly gasping at his sudden demeanor, his hand reaches up and presses your face to rest against him.  Swaying your bodies slightly, he continues to embrace you fully as he whispered compliments to you, just like Jay and Helel did, amongst the interesting conversation  you had as you got to know more about him.  

………………………. 

‘You’re the prettiest cat…’ 

‘If I drew whiskers on you, and got you a headband with cat ears, would you wear it whenever you come to visit me?’

 ‘You’d look so cute.’ 

‘You have feline like eyes, now that I take a closer look at them.’ 

‘Me? Looking like a cat? That’s the best notion of flattery any woman has given to me, thank you.’ 

‘What type of cat do I look like to you? A Tabby? Shorhair? Domestic? Please tell me I look like a Maine coon or a Savannah.’

 ‘Oh yeah, I named every single one of them, lets see there’s…Barivel, Zeus, Zorba, Crème-puff, Mr. Bagelsworth, Stewie, an there’s also Roxanne, Ruby, oh! I’ve also got Mandu, Cupcake, Sundae, Sweet-potato, and Daisy, oh….Daisy is my girl. She sleeps with me and gets all the cuddles.’  

………………………

 You both stood for what had seemed like hours as the conversation continued on and on, yet you didn’t’ feel tired, nor did your legs feel the strain of standing while wearing your black low-heeled shoes. It almost felt as if you weren’t standing for such a long period of time, you felt as relaxed as you would have felt while laying down on a bed of feathers.  

You wondered if it was because of him…he wasn’t carrying you per-say, yet you felt as if he was taking the burden of your weight away as he maintained his embrace with you, pressing you against him as he rests his face on the top of your head.  

“You’ll never have to worry about anything…not with us around. We’ll take care of you, even the weight on your shoulders…..pretty kitten.” 

You nodded.

You weren’t entirely sure if they could read your mind, yet there was a trend where a thought popped up into your head and between Jay’s response, or Jungwon’s remarks, it all seemed fitting and prompted. Was it telepathy? Or did they just have a gift to peek into a person’s mind and sense what they’re thinking? 

Shifting you around, he rests your back against the brick wall of the monument and leans in. Cupping your face, he rests his cheek against yours. You felt his tongue licking the helix of your ear, as he sucks on the lobe, your earring included.  

Somehow, though you don’t know how he managed to do it, he removes the earring with just his mouth, yet you didn’t feel a thing as he did it. The backing removed, the jewelry piece completely removed from your piercing, he pulls back slightly and grins at you with the earring gently resting in between the two rows of teeth.

He scoffs out a chuckle, as did you.  Taking it with his fingers, he looks it over and studies it.  

“Hmmm…plated, not at all real, is this what you like?” he inquires with a soft smirk.  

“You mean the earring? Well it was just a set I bought from a store.” You respond back with.  

“hmm…” he smirks once again, reaching up with his other hand as he shifts his gaze to your other ear, he removes the remaining earring, and places them both in his palm.  

“Put your hand on top of them.” He gently issues as he leans in and rests his forehead against yours.

The soft strands of his bangs felt like silk against your skin.  Doing so, you gently hover over the earrings, where your palm meets with his.  

“Keep it there until I tell you to move, okay?”  

You nod.  

“What’s your favorite color, pretty kitten?”  

“Mmm..(your favorite color here)”  

“Silver or gold?”

 “(your preference here)” 

“Studs or dangling?”

 “(your preference here)” 

“Favorite flower?” 

“(your favorite flower here)” 

Once he was finished asking you a series of questions, he leans in and kisses the back of your palm that rested over the earrings. Looking back up at you, he reaches up with his other hand and tucks your hair behind your ear.

 “You can move your hand now, pretty kitten.” 

Slowly retracting your hand away, you saw a pair of earrings, made of real (silver/gold), dawned with jewels in your favorite color. They were (stud/dangling) that resembled (your favorite flower). The earrings had emulated the exact responses you gave to him, and by looking at them, they were real and priceless.  

Taking your hand, he places them both in your palm and removing one, he reaches over to your ear and places it in for you. Once he was done, he takes the second earring and places it on your next ear, admiring how the sparkle of each piece looked beautiful on you.

 “There. You deserve the real thing, not cheap jewelry.” He smiles. 

You felt overwhelmed, and issued out your gratitude as you reached up and admired one of the earrings with your fingertips, feeling the intricate mold and design based off your preference.  

“Do you like them?” 

“…I love them. Thank you….I really do.”  

“Good giiiiiiirrrlll..”

 Cupping your cheeks, he performs his habit of rubbing the tip of his nose against yours.  The siren played aloud, interrupting the moment as it indicated that curfew was nearby. You shifted uncomfortably as the sound pierced your ears, to which Jungwon took notice of and covered both your ears as he leans your face against his chest.  

It grew dark, and sure enough, you could hear the murmurs of the regulators nearby as they began to roam looking out for anyone that remained outside past the curfew hours.  You didn’t’ feel as worried, since you were with Jugnwon. Looking down at you, he softly tells in a calm voice.  

 “Come on, I’ll take you back to your apartment.”  You nodded in response as he takes you by the hand.

Leading you through the entrance of the park, you both were suddenly and harshly greeted by a group of regulators.  

“What are you both doing here? Its past curfew! You both will come with me.” 

Lashing out at you both before speaking into a cellular device, the man signaled his message to all the other regulators as you heard a myriad of sirens, footsteps, and voices of a massive group, along with a black van that pulls up.

Each cult member was adorned in all black, with the symbol of their cult marked on their blouses. They had on masks and their badges as they gripped on to whatever weapon they bore against you and Jungwon.  

“Huh….” Licking the roof of his mouth, Jungwon slightly furrowed his brows in irritation as he maintained his grip on your waist.

“You really going to point those things at me?” he exclaims calmly with a slight bit of amusement in his tone as he watches the men gather round with knives pointed in your direction, guns locking and loading, long blades of machetes and saws, along with various bounds of restraints such as handcuffs, ropes, and straps were all on display within their grasp.  

“You can come in quietly, or we can take you dead. Your choice.” One of the regulators lashes out.

It amazed you that after with what had happened with Jay, surely these men had heard of how he slaughtered their fellow members with ease, yet, how they remained confident and quirky was beyond you.  

‘Don’t they know that these men are not from this world?...’  

Slightly amused by the regulator's brazen attitude, Jungwon scoffs as he widens his eyes, issuing a harsh tone towards the man.

“Oh…and now you think you have some sort of authority to give ME, an option....like I don’t have the authority to strip you of yours.” he states, his tone reigning a tune that was far more superior than the cult members.

“Quiet!” one of the regulators points and waves his hand in motioning for Jungwon to stay silent. As he did so, the flash of his ring signifying his membership within the cult, was apparent as the man tried to establish his level of importance.  

“You dare to wave your cheap metals at me?...Oh…hohoho..boy…you have no idea….” Jungwon growled.

His elated pitch turned dark.  Upon noticing that the men were not going to back down at his harsh tone, he smirks.  “Very well, that’s how you want to do it?” eyeballing the members, he snarls. “Good….STAND THE FUCK BY.”  

P A R T F I 5 E

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #31 – Montress Volume 5: Warchild (and Monstress: Talk Stories) by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

Continuing my allotment of reading one volume of comic books a month, this time I read the two bonus side-stories issues that were published and set directly after volume 5. This was broadly a real return to form compared to volume 4 – the very tightly focused plot really helped, as did Maika actually getting to do things and not just get lectured at for three issues.

As the volume title might indicate, for the length of the series turns into an outright war story. The Federation Army, without bothering to wait for trivialities like ‘orders from the prime minister’, invaded Arcanic territory, making a lighting strike across the border to seize the city of Ravenna before it can be reinforced or fortified. Covin and Kippa both commit to staying to defend the city and the massive refugee population already dwelling within it, and manage to convince Maika to help as well. Which she does by effectively seizing control of the city in a coup and organizing the defence herself, conscripting the entire adult population into a makeshift army. From there things just get bloodier and bloodier.

As far as action-heavy war stories go, this has to be one of the most dedicated to never making war seem heroic I’ve ever seen. War is ugly, brutal, and monstrous – and however justified or virtuous your reasons for getting involved, fighting in it will just make you the same. Everyone dies screaming, everyone who survives does so with some combination of dirty tricks, merciless violence, and luck. Maika seizes control of the city with exemplary violence, rules through a heady mixture of competence and terror, and makes no bones about the fact that anyone who steps out of line is dead – and she is totally vindicated in doing so, it works great. Kippa tries to be merciful and let a bunch of pacifists unwilling to fight into the city before they’re all enslaved or slaughtered – and ends up letting a team of Cumena super-soldiers in through the same path, getting hundreds of people killed and nearly dooming the city. It’s not exactly subtle.

Each issue in the volume starts with a little flashback to Maika and Tuya’s time as incredibly disposable federation slaves during the final days of the last war, which are exactly as bleak and trench warfare-ey as you would expect. The beat of how after one forced suicide-bombing too many even the arcanic soldiers on the other side would shoot them if they try to run for their trench and freedom was an especially good way to rub in the whole ‘ruins everyone’ thing.

Not that the present timeline is short of that either. Ravenna is outnumbered, outgunned, and facing slaughter or enslavement – so they fight like cornered rats, using every dirty trick and terror tactic Maika can think of that’s normally exclusively the province of villains in war stories. Poisoned wells, desecrated corpses, brutally assassinated officers and terrifyingly mutilated captives – breaking the Federation’s morale is the only hope Maika has of victory, so she does everything she can to break it.

It’s also a recurring beat how the rise of such genocidal racism in the Federation is actually quite new, really only dating to the first war, with Maika having being a student in the Federation’s premier military academy for a year while the colonel leading the human invasion force taught her. This I admit doesn’t quite parse for me – this was already a civilization with a state church that’s fortune is built on rendering and processing arcanic bones, I’m pretty sure the racism has been around for a while.

Speaking of complaints – the story explicitly draws a contrast between ‘human science’ and ‘arcanic magic’ and exposits about how the balance of power between the two has shifted over time. So this is just kind of stupid based on the evidence we see – the Warlord flies into battle in powerarmor, Pontus was defended by a giant forcefield generator, this is not a setting where the scientific revolution has come anywhere close to equalling the wonders of the past. But on a more aesthetic levell it’s also just a trope/dichotomy I viscerally dislike, so I’m probably not being especially fair here.

The sheer number of conspiracies cackling sinisterly in the background is also getting just a bitch much. There’s the Blood Court and the Monstrum in the Cumena and now there’s’ also a faction of Ancients who are sabotaging their own war effort and murdering their own highly skilled engineers for unclear reasons. The result is an unfortunate feeling that the actual world war is just a side show to something.

But all those complaints aside, this really was a great volume to read – and the two side-stories (happier vignettes from Kippa and Maika’s past) were very well-placed palette cleansers to lighten the tone a little bit.

I also just enjoy how it’s becoming more and more clear that Maika’s terrifying aunt whose been hunting for her the entire book just isn’t very good at this and absolutely no one actually seems to respect her. It’s great comedy.