#the bridge kingdom series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pocketseizure · 4 months

Text

The Two Kings in Tears of the Kingdom

Tears of the Kingdom unearths the roots of Calamity Ganon in an ancient conflict between Rauru, the first king of Hyrule, and Ganondorf, a rival king who attempted to usurp him. In many ways, Rauru is characterized as a good king. He is noble, kind, and self-sacrificing, and he acts for the long-term benefit of the various groups of people living in Hyrule. In contrast to Rauru, the antagonist Ganondorf is an evil king who started a war because of his pride, ego, and greed.

Rauru and Ganondorf represent different styles of authority, both of which are grounded in Japanese fantasies of cultural identity. I’d argue that, in the end, neither king is fit to rule present-day Hyrule, which is why it’s appropriate that the game ends without any call to rebuild Hyrule Castle or the centralized government it symbolizes.

Rauru represents a golden age in Japanese culture when many arts now seen as “traditional” originated. This golden age is closely tied to Nintendo’s home city of Kyoto, which is associated with the culture of the imperial court before it moved to Tokyo in 1868. Because Tears of the Kingdom is a fantasy, the visual metaphors of Rauru’s character design are mixed, but his connection to a bygone golden age is tied to two symbols: the magatama jewels referred to as “secret stones,” and the kare-sansui dry landscape gardens of the Shrines of Light and the Temple of Time.

The “secret stones” that Rauru gives to the six sages have the distinctive comma shape of a magatama jewel, one of the three sacred symbols of Shinto. These three symbols are as follows: a mirror represents clarity of heart, a sword represents the power to protect the weak, and a jewel represents the materiality of divine blessings. These three objects also serve as the regalia of the Japanese emperor, whose role was historically to perform ritual prayers and thereby serve as a symbolic bridge between the world of humans and the world of gods.

There is nothing sacrosanct about magatama jewels; at various street fairs and tourist areas throughout Japan, you can buy inexpensive polished quartz and jade magatama to attach to phone charms or friendship bracelets. As a result of its relative ubiquity, this particular shape of gem has both a historical and a pop culture association with being a magical stone bestowed by the gods on special and worthy individuals such as, most famously, the first Japanese emperor.

Along with his magatama “secret stones,” Rauru is associated with kare-sansui dry landscape gardens of the old imperial capital. Note, for instance, the front courtyard of the Temple of Time that Link visits at the beginning of the game:

The visual motif of raked white gravel punctuated by standing rocks also appears in various permutations within the Shrines of Light established by Rauru and Sonia. To give an example, this is what the player will see if they circle back behind the entrance of the “Rauru’s Blessing” shrines:

This style of dry landscape garden is frequently referred to as a “Zen garden” because of its association with large Buddhist temples in and around Kyoto. The most famous example of this style can be found at Ryōanji, in northwest Kyoto:

The philosophy of these gardens meshes well with the philosophy behind the Zelda series, which Shigeru Miyamoto has described as his attempt to create a tsuboniwa miniature garden for the player to explore. In the same way, dry landscape gardens represent a larger landscape portrayed on a much smaller scale. The rocks in the gravel are meant to represent islands on the ocean, or perhaps mountaintops rising above the clouds. Another common interpretation of these gardens – and one especially pertinent to Tears of the Kingdom – is that the rocks are the dorsal spines of a dragon swimming through the sky.

Although dry landscape gardens have strong ties to Buddhist thought, they were primarily created by wealthy lords residing in Kyoto during the fifteenth century. This was a politically unstable era, and these lords needed to make a show of their wealth and cultural legitimacy. Unlike in China, where Chan Buddhism was largely anti-establishment, Zen Buddhism was the domain of the wealthy educated elite in Japan. Many of the rocks used in Zen-style gardens were imported from China and Korea at great expense, and lords competed to secure the services of celebrity landscape designers. Even today, the late medieval culture represented by dry landscape gardens is associated with the prestige of Japan’s former imperial capital of Kyoto.

Rauru is therefore associated with nobility and a certain air of sophistication. In the original Japanese script, he is unflaggingly polite and addresses everyone – Zelda, Ganondorf, and Link alike – with the sort of “clean” language associated with people of high social standing. To put it simply, Rauru is a perfect gentleman. He is the personification of the aristocratic virtues of the “traditional Japan” of the late fifteenth century, during which the wealthy filled the capital city with gardens while countless wars ravaged the countryside.

In contrast, Ganondorf is a personification of the warrior culture of eastern Japan, especially as it was exemplified by the warlords who competed for territory outside the capital before the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate at the beginning of the seventeenth century.

Oda Nobunaga was the most notorious of these warlords. He was infamous for being aggressive but effective, and his military prowess and ruthless tactics have been memorialized in a wealth of stories whose lineage stretches to the video games of the present day. I believe that Nobunaga (or, at least, a commonly fictionalized version of him) served as a model for Ganondorf, who seeks to take advantage of the instability of the newly established kingdom of Hyrule in order to expand his own territory.

Like Rauru, Ganondorf’s character design contains mixed visual metaphors, but I think it’s fair to say that his topknot and costume are meant to evoke a samurai who has thrown off the kimono sleeve covering his sword arm as an indication of his readiness for battle. This is a style still worn by practitioners of Japanese fencing and archery, which are common extracurricular activities in many high schools. Appropriately, Ganondorf fights with a tachi katana, a naginata spear, and the body-length longbow used in kyūdō archery – all weapons associated with the martial arts of Japan’s medieval military elite.

As if to cement his connection to Nobunaga, Ganondorf speaks in period-drama “samurai Japanese” that demonstrates neither the elegance nor the poetry of his incarnations in previous games. He seems to lack both regret and awareness of the consequences of his actions, and he is concerned primarily with hierarchy, conquest, and the thrill of battle.

As was arguably the case for Nobunaga himself, there is no endgame for Ganondorf, only scorched earth. Ganondorf has absolute faith in his own power, and he views other people only as subordinates or enemies. According to his value system, there is no merit in compromise; he simply takes it for granted that he will win.

It makes sense that the aggressively bloodthirsty Ganondorf is a villain, but it’s important to understand that Rauru is not a hero. With all his magic and culture and imperial splendor, Rauru failed to understand that the system of power he created could easily be turned against him. A nation politically defined by a central authority whose rule is justified through military conquest and the cultural chauvinism of “ancient tradition” is not sustainable, and the legacy of such a kingdom can only be tears.

This is why Hyrule Castle remains in ruins at the end of Tears of the Kingdom, and this is why the game’s central hub is a research station populated with people from all over the world. This is why Zelda doesn’t attempt to re-establish Hyrule as a kingdom, and this is why it’s so important to her to understand the reality behind the myth of the nation’s history. This is also why the grand mythology of Hyrule’s origin is far less important to the player’s experience of the game than individual acts of community building. The highlights of Tears of the Kingdom are Link’s work in facilitating a local election in Hateno, helping Lurelin recover from a disaster, and volunteering in towns facing environmental issues such as water pollution and climate change.

Both Rauru and Ganondorf are compelling in their own ways, but it’s thematically satisfying that both characters are gone at the end of the game. When Zelda meets with the regional leaders of Hyrule during the closing cutscene, they promise each other that they will work together to ensure a lasting peace that neither of the two kings made possible. The legacy of the past still affects Hyrule, but Tears of the Kingdom suggests that it’s the duty of the younger generation to understand where this legacy came from in order to avoid the mistakes of their ancestors and move forward in a more hopeful direction.

#Legend of Zelda #Tears of the Kingdom #Rauru #Ganondorf #Zelda meta #essays

243 notes · View notes

sailor-aviator · 5 months

Text

Sleeping With the Fishes

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Dead animals, Injury to self, Reader is a bit of an idiot, Baboons, Bradley not understanding boundaries, The boys make fun of Boots. I think that's it.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: He's finally here! What do you guys think?? This blog is 18+ ONLY! As always, reblogs and comments are welcomed and encouraged!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where all of my stories and drabbles are posted! If you would like to be added to the Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw tag list, please click the link below!

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

You woke up to the sound of yelling coming from the boys’ tent. You scrambled out of the sheets, barely pulling on a pair of shorts over your underwear before running out of the tent and towards the camp. All three men were standing outside the tent, looking uneasily at each other.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a little out of breath from your run. “What happened?”

“Well,” Bob started, glancing over at Jake as the blond ran a hand through his hair.

“Wild man left a goddamn fish in my bed,” he snapped, glaring disdainfully into the tent.

“He what?” You questioned, pushing past them to look in through the opening. Sure enough, a large, bloody fish sat atop the usually pristine sheets. You grimaced, backing up to stand with the others. “What kind of fish is that?”

“What?” Jake hollered, looking at you incredulously. “Who gives a shit? There’s a fish in my bed, Boots!”

“Do you think he’s threatening you?” Javy asked thoughtfully, stroking the length of his jaw as he eyed the fish. Jake turned to look at him, a surprised look on his face as if the thought only just crossed his mind. He looked back at the fish with pursed lips.

“Bradley isn’t like that,” Bob assured, placing a gentle hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“There’s a fish in my bed,” Jake gritted out, waving wildly towards the tent. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Quit being such a baby about your gift,” you scowled. Jake began to splutter, face going red as he fought to form a coherent thought. At that same moment Ice and Maverick came walking up from where they had been fixing dinner.

“What’s going on?” Maverick asked, glancing around at your little group. Jake pointed a finger into the tent, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The two older men pushed past you and Javy to peer into the tent, their eyebrows shooting up their foreheads at the sight.

“Huh,” Maverick laughed out. “He must have seen you working with the plants this past week.”

Jake stared at him for a second, blinking slowly as he processed what the brunette just said.

“Pardon?”

“He sees me growing some of the food here,” Maverick explained, gesturing towards the small patch of land he had set aside to grow some vegetables for the camp. “I use fish from the river to help fertilize the crops. He helps me with it sometimes, in fact. He must have thought you’d want some fish to help with your research.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” you sighed. Jake stared at you, an unreadable expression that slowly morphed into one of distraught.

“But,” he murmured, waving uselessly back at the fish, “my bed? Why?”

“Now that is a bit of a mystery, I’ll admit,” Maverick hummed, staring confusedly at the bed. Ice rolled his eyes.

“Is it though?” He muttered, giving you a knowing look. You shifted uncomfortably. Surely he wasn’t implying…

“Boots, we’re going to have to take a raincheck on going down to the waterfall,” Jake sighed, looking at you now.

“What?” You frowned. “No way! It won’t take you that long to clean up! We can just go after!”

“This is going to take me forever to clean up,” he argued, shaking his head. “No, we’ll just go tomorrow or something.”

“Jake, if I have to spend one more day in this godforsaken camp, I’m going to lose my mind,” you scowled. “I’ll just go on ahead and you can meet me when you’re finished. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a terrible idea,” he frowned. “The jungle is dangerous, Boots. God only knows what’s out there waiting to snatch you up.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you snapped, glaring at him. “I’m just as capable as the rest of you. I can take care of myself. Javy, tell him.”

Javy sucked in a breath, eyes darting between the two of you as you waited for him to say something.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable getting in the middle-”

“Useless,” you hissed, turning back to Jake. “Jake Seresin, I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. I’ve done this plenty of times before when you aren’t here to infantilize me.”

He mulled over your words, glancing at the others before sighing.

“Fine,” he relented, “but don’t go too far, okay? I’ll join you when I’m finished with this. Hopefully, it won’t take me too long.”

You smiled in victory, turning to head back to your tent and get ready. It didn’t take you long, just changing into a fresh set of clothes and filling up your canteen with water before grabbing your backpack. You were just about to leave camp and head towards the falls when Maverick stopped you.

“I packed you some lunch,” he said, handing you an old container. You took it from him, smiling gratefully as you shoved it into your backpack.

“I’m guessing there’s something else you wanted to say to me?” You asked, earning a chuckle.

“Just,” he hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets as he gazed into the jungle, “be careful. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jake, but Bob and I spotted a leopard by the river not too long ago. It’s possible it’s moved out of the area, but I wanted to let you know just in case. Just stay vigilant.”

“Yeah, I will,” you smiled, readjusting the strap on your shoulder.

“I’m sure Bradley will be keeping an eye on you too,” he added. “You should be fine.”

“Thanks, Mav,” you nodded, turning and heading into the jungle before you.

The sun shone brightly, some of the rays penetrating through the canopy above. It was strange being out in the wilderness by yourself, the strange new noises keeping you slightly on edge as you continued to trek through the leaves. You took another swig from your canteen, the cool liquid easing the unsettling warmness that surrounded you. You tried in vain to wipe away the sweat accumulating on your forehead, letting out a frustrated sigh and grunt of disgust when you just ended up smearing more sweat onto your face. You shoved the canteen back into your pack, stopping when you heard a chattering sound coming from up above.

You looked skyward, seeing a couple of baboons racing along the trees. You grabbed blindly for your notebook, eager to jot down some notes and sketches of the creatures for Ice and Bob to go over when you returned. You trotted after them, now digging in your bag for a pen as you continued after them. The baboons noticed you, chattering at each other loudly as they took you in. Seeming to taunt you, they waved their arms at you, tilting their heads as if to say “can’t catch me.” You huffed out a chuckle, twisting and turning through the trees as you chased them. You were so caught up in trying to jot down some notes that you didn’t notice the dip in the ground or the tree root that arched out of the dirt beneath you. You fell with a panicked yelp, hitting your head on another one of the large roots, the world going dark around you.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out, probably not too long since the sun still beat down through the canopy. You touched the sore spot on your head, wincing at the slight sting, but sighing with relief when you checked your fingers and found no blood.

The baboons were still shrieking and chattering above you, almost as if they were laughing at your unfortunate predicament, and you cast an errant glare upwards at them. Damn monkeys.

An ache rippled up your leg from your ankle, and you bit your lip as you shuffled back to lean against one of the trees, hoping against all odds that you hadn’t done anything too bad to it.

Your head pounded, a wave of dizziness running through you that was most certainly not helped by the intense humidity and heat of the jungle. You let out a groan as you experimentally moved your ankle, hissing when a jolt of pain ran up your leg. Yeah, definitely sprained. You huffed out a sigh, leaning your head against the trunk of the tree.

The cacophony of noises did little to ease your aching head, and you wished you had waited for Jake to finish cleaning his bed like he had insisted. Now you were stuck out in the jungle, hoping and praying someone would find you before something else did.

You groaned at the thought of what Jake would say if he could see you now. That smarmy look he’d give you as he looked you over. The “I told you so” that would follow. You would never hear the end of it, but a chilling thought ran through you. The guys had to find you before Jake could be his insufferable self, and as far as they knew, you would be down by the waterfall. How far away were you? You scolded yourself for straying away from the trail markers that had been laid out. How was anyone supposed to find you now? You sniffled, biting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

You checked your canteen, grimacing at the sound of the half empty container. Setting it down with a thud you gazed at the canopy above, wiping the sweat from your brow. It could be hours before someone realized you were missing. You hoped sooner.

Another wave of emotion rushed over you, and this time you allowed yourself to let a few tears slip down your cheeks. How could you be so foolish?

The sound of rustling foliage drew your attention across the small clearing, your heart rate picking up at the sound. Your thoughts raced back to what Maverick had told you before you left the camp. Bob and I spotted a leopard by the river not too long ago. Inwardly groaning, you lamented about your situation, hoping that whatever was hiding in the foliage wasn’t a giant cat. You stayed as still as possible, praying for whatever it was to continue on. From the sounds of it, whatever it was, was huge, and it was getting closer.

You gripped your canteen in your hand, ready to throw it at whatever came out of the dense leaves. It wouldn’t do any lasting damage, but perhaps it would daze the creature long enough for you to scramble away and towards help. Surely Jake was done by now? How long had you been out here?

You bit back a shriek as the leaves parted to reveal...a man?

He was tall—huge really, and so unfairly handsome. Tanned skin stretched across bulging muscles, caramel brown hair curling at the top of his head. It was his eyes though, that captured your attention. Deep, mesmerizing honey-colored eyes that stared at you intensely, as if trying to make sense of you.

"Who the hell are you?" You asked, voice tight as he crouched down, inching closer to you with slow moments. "Where did you come from?"

He didn't answer as he crept closer, his movements almost like that of the apes you observed during your travels. His hand reached towards you, his knuckles brushing against the tips of your fingers. You jerked your hand back, regarding him wearily.

"Human?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Me?" You spluttered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Of course I'm a human! What did you think I was?"

His eyes narrowed at you, his lips pressing into a thin line as he seemed to consider you.

"Not like any human I have seen," he spoke, his English seemingly broken. "What kind?"

It took you a second to figure out what he was asking you.

"I'm a woman," you told him, a sense of unease filling you. Was this the man that Ice and Mav had told you about? What was his name again? Bradley, right?

“Seen you at the camp,” he continued, watching you for a moment. “Smell good.”

Your cheeks warmed even further at the comment, and you cleared your throat before shifting where you sat, wincing as the movement jostled your ankle. Bradley glanced down at the swollen appendage, frowning at the redness that seeped to the surface.

“Hurt?” He asked, leaning forward, his face so close to yours. You swallowed thickly, eyes roving over his face and hesitating on his lips. The facial hair that sat atop it wasn’t a bad look on him, quite the contrary actually, and for a second you wondered what it would be like to feel it on the skin of your thighs as he-

You blinked rapidly, trying desperately to clear the depraved thoughts from your head. You chalked it up to the combination of the African heat and the fact you hadn’t been laid in God only knows how long. You cleared your throat and briefly met his gaze before looking away.

“Yes,” you answered him, cursing at the shakiness of your voice. “I think I hurt my ankle when I fell. Do you think you could go back to the camp and tell the others where I am?”

Bradley frowned at you before shaking his head.

“Boots hurt,” he rumbled. “Can’t leave here.”

“Then how do you expect the others to—hey!”

You yelped when Bradley slid one large hand under your knees, the other coming up to rest on your back as he lifted you off the ground. You scrambled to find purchase, finally wrapping your arms around his neck, eyes widening when he turned to look at you, face so close, your noses were practically touching. You tried desperately not to think of the hard curves of muscle you were being held against, willing yourself to think about anything else.

“This is,” you began, swallowing thickly as you stared into his eyes, “this is not the most practical way of doing this.”

He stared at you for a moment, blinking at you in confusion.

“Practical?”

“You know,” you mumbled, tearing your eyes away from him, “the best way to do this.”

He frowned at that, giving you a challenging look as his grip on you tightened. You gasped as he held you closer, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Can you walk?”

“What?” You blinked. He chuckled, bringing his face even closer to yours which was not helping you form a coherent sentence.

“Can you walk?” He repeated, the corners of his lips tugging up just a hair. You processed his question, scowling at him once you realized he was messing with you.

“No,” you huffed, meeting his gaze with a glare. He gave you a smirk as he turned and started walking through the jungle.

“You don’t have to be so smug, you know,” you grumbled, relaxing a little when you felt confident that he wouldn’t drop you. He hummed, the smirk still painted on his face as he continued on.

“So you know what smug means, but not practical?” You groused. Bradley spared you a look before turning his attention back to where he was walking.

“Ice calls Maverick smug,” he supplied. You hummed, but didn’t say anything else as the two of you carried on.

“Boots?” Bob asked as you and Bradley appeared from the jungle. He was standing by the fire pit, a confused look on his face as if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was looking at. Jake and Javy glanced up at the sound of your name, the blond scrambling to his feet when he saw you in the arms of the wild man.

“What happened?” He asked, crossing the distance to come stand beside you. Bradley let out what could only be described as a growl as he swung you away, fixing Jake with a glare. Jake gaped at him, jaw slack. “What the hell-”

“Bradley?”

All of you turned to see Ice and Maverick walking up from the other side of the camp, looks of concern as they glanced between you and the man whose arms you were still currently in.

“I, uh,” you stammered, glancing around at everyone. “I fell.”

“You fell?” Jake asked accusingly, already eyeing your swollen ankle.

“I was following some baboons,” you admitted, refusing to meet his gaze. You could already feel the accusatory look he was giving you. “I was taking notes, and I tripped over some tree roots. Bradley found me and brought me back here.”

“You were supposed to go straight to the river,” Jake accused.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You strayed off the path, didn’t you?”

“Jake-”

“Dammit, Boots,” he growled, running a hand over his face. “You could have been seriously hurt!”

“Speaking of,” Ice interrupted, moving forward to examine your ankle. “Let’s get you looked at. Bradley, would you mind setting her over here?”

Bradley looked over at the bench that Ice gestured to, pausing for a moment before walking over. He plopped down, situating you on his lap, his arms still wrapped around your middle. You let out an indignant squeak, glaring when both Javy, Jake, and Bob snickered, trying to cover them up with coughs.

“Looks like wild man is already attached,” Javy quipped, earning another glare.

“Why don’t you come over here and say that,” you snapped, feeling the heat on your cheeks grow even warmer. Ice looked like he was struggling not to laugh as he crouched in front of you, and you just barely caught the smirk that Maverick had on his face. You winced as Ice began his examination, biting your lip from the pain. You felt Bradley’s arms tighten around you, and you gripped onto his arm a little tighter to keep from crying out at the red hot spike of pain that shot up from your ankle.

“Looks like you sprained it,” Ice finally announced. You let out a groan, leaning back into Bradley as you rolled your eyes.

“Just my luck,” you grumbled. “How long am I stuck here for?”

“I’d say at least four,” he surmised. “Maybe six if you don’t keep off of it.”

“Looks like wild man will just have to carry her around everywhere,” Javy snickered, Bob and Jake joining in with him.

“Would you be quiet?” You growled. “This is going to be a nightmare!”

“Serves you right,” Jake smirked, that smarmy look you hated already on his face. “You should have waited for me.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, crossing your arms with a huff. Ice chuckled, moving to stand.

“Bradley, would you mind bringing Boots to the medical tent for me? I should have a bandage for her to wear.”

You scrambled once again as Bradley lifted you, clinging to his shoulders as he began to walk after Ice across the camp. The three boys were barely holding in their laughter as they watched you, breaking out into fits of giggles as you flipped them off.

Bradley was none the wiser as he held you, his hold gentle as he took care to not jostle you too much. You supposed the next couple of weeks wouldn’t be so bad.

Tag List: @goldenseresinretriever @fanficfandomlove @seresinsbrat @hopip99 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @kmc1989 @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61 @nouis-bum @topherwrites @linkpk88 @number-0-iz @princessofglitterland @agentorange9595 @pittbull-enthusiast @krispybearbouquet @els-marvelvsp @jupitercomet @maximus890 @eloquentdreamer @seresinslady @piceous21 @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @jessicab1991 @princess76179 @diorrfairy @bobgasm @na-ta-sh-aa @eternallyvenus @angelbabyange @shanimallina87

#slm #stranger like me #tarzan!bradley #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #top gun rooster #rooster top gun

335 notes · View notes

harocat · 3 months

Text

Xiao Lanhua is my favorite kind of character because she seems timid (or at least normal) on the surface, but she's actually so balls to the wall insanely brave that it's probably detrimental to her own health.

Our first episode meeting her, she's too scared to stand up to her bullies, but she decides to go directly against fate (despite being the apprentice of the literal arbiter of fate) and basically take on a suicide mission to save the guy she has a crush on.

What's fun is that she never becomes less this person as the series goes on, but her perspective grows and matures, so instead of risking it all for a crush on a man she doesn't even know (that she knows of at least), she uses her courage to protect those she loves and to stand up for herself and for the beliefs she's acquired. She uses them to prove her mettle in situations where, in a fair world, she wouldn't have to.

And she also becomes more rational. She might be doing these crazy things, but she's doing them with a levelheaded, thought-out approach. She's not being impulsive in the way we may have seen more of early on. Sure she might (or will) still die, but she’s going into it so certain of her decision.

Her emotional strength is absolutely next level. I waver on how hard it was for her to maintain her Xiyun persona and hide her true self from Dongfang Qingcang. A part of me thinks it must have been agony at all times, because he was right there, and because yes, she is naturally a very outwardly emotional person. But the other part wonders if the desire to protect and save him (and the world) was so, so powerful in her heart that she really was able to almost shut it down. Did she cry in her room every night? Or did she really manage to hold it together until that scene on the bridge?

ANYWAY, Dongfang Qingcang calls her 'timid', and he ALSO calls her 'the bravest woman in the three realms' (in a speech in front of his entire kingdom, mind), and like... he's right!! She's both. I LOVE that juxtaposition in a character. It's one of my favorite tropes. I love her.

#love between fairy and devil #cang lan jue #xiao lanhua #can you believe people hate her it's mind boggling

174 notes · View notes

christophernolan · 9 months

Text

Fantasy books by female authors that deserve more praise and recognition and are so SO MUCH better than whatever SJM writes.

The Sun Sword series | Michelle West

A hundred thousand kingdoms | NK Jemisin

The killing Moon | NK Jemisin

An ember in the Ashes | Sabaa Tahir

Shatter Me | Taherah Mafi

Furyborn | Claire Legrand

The bone season | Samantha Shannon

Darker shade of Magic | VE Schwab

The invisible life of Addie LaRue | VE Schwab

Realm of the Elderlings | Robin Hobbs

Sands of Arawiya | Hafsah Faizal

The Daevabad Trilogy | SA Chakraborty

Year of the Reaper | Makiia Lucier

The bear and the Nightingale | Katherine Arden

The Night Circus | Erin Morgenstern

Descendent of the Crane | Joan He

The bridge Kingdom | Danielle Jensen

Dark Shores | Danielle Jensen

Falling Kingdoms | Morgan Rhodes

Range of Ghosts | Elizabeth Bear

Children of blood and Bone | Tomi Adeyemi

The Wrath and the Dawn | Renee Ahdieh

Lumatere Chronicles | Melina Marchetta

The Alchemists of Loom | Elise Kova

#I have an itch when it come to SJM I have 4 of her books and I don’t understand why people think she’s the greatest author since Jane Austen #anyway please read these incredible books #I’ve read these so if you wanna add please do so #books #book recs 2023 #books recs #books and reading

391 notes · View notes

sarcasmiclife · 8 months

Text

The "you have something of mine" trope just got a whole lot hotter with the gender swap like purr queen

#the bridge kingdom series #the bridge kingdom #the traitor queen #danielle l jensen #aren kertell #lara veliant #badass bitch

17 notes · View notes

haztory · 1 month

Text

[fairytales: fathoms below]

⤷ john price x f!reader; fairytales!au, mermaid!reader, no warnings!

⤷ summary: a series imagining each of the cod men in fantasy/fairytale settings.

(w.c: 3.2k)

captain john price - the little mermaid

Deep brown oak lays a steady foundation for the billowing ivory cotton. It is a formidable beast, splitting the current with a wicked ferocity that only further emboldens everything your sisters have said in the privacy of hidden corners and muttered breaths. This monster is a fearsome one, its force unparalleled. Something entirely different than what you have seen before.

Mind your distance, your eldest sister had spoken in between the echoing bellows of your father’s rampage as he raged and roared about the increased presence of the fiend in the seas. It is a frightening being.

Yet, as you peek above the waves to peer at its high fixtures and its grand weight gliding across the water, you’re less inclined to be scared of the vessel and more curious about who could have made such a thing. Your sister’s words and your father’s fear are quickly things of the past, rendered outdated almost instantaneously beneath its shadow.

What could they know about the intent of such a thing with certainty when they themselves have never been as close as this before? If they had, surely they’d feel the same as you do now.

The ship rocks with a force equal to the volume of the men steering it. They are of varying shapes and sizes, loud as they shout at one another along the choppy water. Words you can only catch on whispering winds, syllables and sounds that are completely foreign as you try to repeat them to yourself. A pulse echoes within you, a ferocious beating of your heart that begs you to get closer, to let the curiosity that surges within you seize its grand moment. If only just to see, just to hear.

It is one thing to see the ancestors of this magnificent watercraft on the seafloor—to play in its cracked beams and chase your sisters through the wreckage, imagining in secret what an image it would be were it fixed and afloat—but it is something entirely different to see the beast alive.

To see it be tamed, made nothing more than a tool to be beckoned— by him.

He stands commanding on the helm, the gruffness of his voice carrying on the winds, crossing the distances to you. The men follow his calls, responding in time to his orders and moving with preciseness on the vessel, not entirely unlike your father’s guards. They are seasoned, well learned, and they follow him without question. It is truly a sight to behold, but him, he trumps it all.

His figure is distinguishable even from afar. You’ve been able to make him out even as you trailed a couple hundred kilometers behind, curiosity consuming all reason as you followed the ship past neighboring reefs and exiting well beyond the boundaries of your father’s kingdom. He’s well cut and corded, muscle visible even if the white of his shirt didn’t stick to his skin—wet from the seawater.

He’s wide in the shoulders, tall and lean, before it tapers down to a narrow waist; His bottom half is obscured by a dark fabric, which must be the object of your father’s frequent cursing. Legs. You’ve never seen them before, much less two of them.

Still, his… abnormality hardly detracts from the verboten truth—your eye is caught. It hardly deviates from his powerful stance; Your gaze can wander across the bridge of the ship to the working crew, but it ends up inevitably circling back to him. Drawn into the vortex of him, water rushing, pulling and pushing, and the pang of longing that you have long held quiet finds its strength.

It tastes of wonder and the desperation to escape; To leave behind the home that you know, all that has created you, for the realization that there’s more.

You leave behind the ship before you risk the chance of it seeing you, but the appetite of fascination is hardly appeased. It becomes the bad habit. The ships are wondrous things, but you find out rather quickly that when he is at the helm, that is truly when your heart leaps and you trail even closer to its hull, eager for a sight.

It goes this way for forty rises and sets, your eyes held on the horizon for the familiar sight of the wooden ship’s sigil and its master.

Today, he is seen on the day of the great storm.

The sky sits in a violent gray, lightning spreading its branches as they flare across the clouds. The air smells of the impending storm as the seas grow rougher and with it the ship rocks unsteadily—the waves beating against wood, climbing up its ridges higher each time it strikes against its side, as if it were begging to climb aboard. Despite the mayhem, he stays sharp, pointing direction from the helm and eventually leaving it to the charge of someone else when he decides to help directly. Grabbing rope and throwing it around the masts, clapping others on the back, Keep going, boys! shouting from his mouth.

You see it before they do. A crack that widens in the undercarriage of the ship, beaten open as the waves ram against it, water rushing in. You want to shout, tell them to look, but they realize it soon enough. One of the shipmates peers over the edge of the ship before turning back and shouting,

“She’s goin’ to sink, Captain!”

The Captain—finally a name to the face, one that you roll around in your mind as your eyes track his every movement; Captain, captain, captain.— moves quickly, foregoing the lugging of a rope and saying something that forces all men to divert attention elsewhere. It’s a flurry of movement from there, the men gathering supplies, hauling smaller wooden vessels by rope and filling them in a quick frenzy. Abandoning the ship.

It’s difficult as wind and rain pellet them, obscuring vision and keeping them unsteady as they attempt to save themselves. The first lifeboat hits the sea viciously, the waves almost capsizing the vessel as they meet its surface. You don’t mean to interfere—you know you shouldn’t— but they’re terrified, and risk drowning, and you’re much more worried about them dying than you are yourself, so you swim to them; Grab the bottom of the boat and pull with as much strength as your arms and tail can muster and haul them away from the immediate danger of the turbulent waves split by the sinking ship.

The pulley breaks when the next boat tries to descend, hitting the surface unceremoniously, but the men make it to the water. Two wooden boats buoy a safe distance away from the main ship and the crew sits, thankfully, unharmed as they look towards their Captain, beckoning him to jump. He stands at the edge of the great being, a monolith of a man overseeing the wreckage of his great accomplishment. He must be bidding it goodbye, because he then turns, ready to jump, fortified in that decision as he realizes that all of his men are safe and it is now his turn.

Wind turns threatening and the air ignites with a charge that speaks of impending doom. It is then that lightning strikes the mast, sparking a loud blast. It singes the wooden pillar, immediately exploding it into a shattering of pieces. The detonation’s impact pushes him off the edge, the Captain’s body hurdling over one-hundred feet.

Your scream is hidden by the shouts of his own men. His body hits the surface of the water, plunging into the depths as the violent waves hurtle him below.

There is no hesitation, a choice made without conscious thought. You curl beneath the cresting of a wave and immediately sink into the depth in search for him. It is significantly easier to swim beneath the hurtling waves than atop of them, pressure equalizing against your body. You glide within the water, pushing straightforwardly to the spot where his body met water.

Your heart pounds in fear. Even if you reach him—no, when you reach him— there is no guarantee of his survival. There must be some kind of injury from falling that kind of distance, or so you would imagine. Being sucked into vortexes does all kinds of damage to merfolk, it must be of equal balance for humans. And even if by some miracle he does survive impact, humans cannot breathe under the water like you can. He must have swallowed some water, is that dangerous for him? How much can he swallow? What do you do if he has swallowed too much?

Thoughts hurtle and tumble in fast succession, but your body moves faster. Crossing the distance between your position next to the lifeboats to the spot of impact at a speed that has never before been demanded of you. Your lungs burning, your mind aching, your heart hurting with worry for a man that you do not yet know. A man that, for all you have been told, could kill you. A man whose kind has hunted yours down for sport, strung your people up for decoration.

You should not care for this man, have been warned not to, and yet the relief you feel when you find him are the blessings from the forces of the heavens and earth.

He’s sinking, unconsciously. His eyes closed, body suspended to the whims of the tides as they pull him down. Nearing him reveals that he is much larger than you had anticipated but it means nothing in the rapid pump of adrenaline. Hooking your arms underneath his, his back to your chest, you haul with great might. Lugging his weight with a grunt to the surface, just to get him to breathe again.

Breaching the surface exposes you to the pellets of the ferocious rain, but it matters not. Your eyes set for direction, your head turning frantically in search of a marker, a sight, something to reveal where you are— where you can take him for safety. The lifeboats have been taken far away by the tumbling tides and the ship that was once so marvelous now roars with a fire aboard its surface.

You have no idea where to go. You have no idea what to do.

But the Captain is held tightly in your arms, his head rolling lifelessly on your shoulder. A quick placement of your fingers on his neck reveals a pulsing heart and while it hardly solves any of your problems, it’s all you need to do as you have always done and swim. Somewhere, anywhere.

So, you do.

South, in search of sanctuary.

It comes faster than you had thought it would. The shallowing of waters after an hour long haul of both he and you bleeds a hope in your soul that pushed you forward until it came into sight. A cove. Away from the large strip of land that surrounds it, remote enough to deposit him without being seen, but close enough to civilization for him to find a way home. Wherever home may be for him.

Your body is exhausted, the muscles in your tail cramping and spasming from the sheer burden of his weight on yours but you don’t stop. Even as you can touch sand with your hands, even as the movement of waves can carry you the distance to the shore— you don’t stop until he is safe. On land.

Hauling him out of the water and onto the flattening surface of the beach is surely the worst part. Dragging him a safe distance from the water that was able to ease the pressure of his full weight on you to now being on the surface where his body seems to weigh even more, your arms trembling from trying to pull him further up on the coast, is misery. But you do it, with some herculean effort that has never been introduced to you before.

He lays on land, supine on his back, finally safe. The rain has stopped, the sky turning from the harsh gray of before to a smattering of thickened clouds that finally allow the sun to bleed through.

You fall beside him in exhaustion. Ragged breaths heaving your chest, your tail grateful for the much needed rest. The swim home will be significantly easier (and faster) without the man in your arms, but such a trek is daunting when physical debility renders you useless.

But you must go, before he sees you. You have done what you needed to, you have brought him to land, and while you don’t know how to save him, or if you need to, you know his heart still beats. And that is enough to make a job well done. Rather, it should be enough to grant you dismissal.

And yet, you linger. Unable to part, waiting. Watching. You shouldn’t, and still you cannot help yourself.

You sit up and lean over him, curious to spare him another look.

Laid beneath you, the truth repeats like a broken mantra in your head. It is a sin of the highest offense to touch him. Being near him like this is a crime itself. But, there is an ache in your fingers that urges you forward and the desire to know eats away at you, until you blink and suddenly, your fingers are tracing the length of his strong nose.

A straight bridge, freckled with color. Your fingers move in a fixed trance, trailing across the soft of his cheek until it reaches the jagged meeting line where skin becomes obscured with hair. You feel the coarseness of his beard, trace the pads of your fingertips down the thick and long hairs. The men at home have hair on their faces, your own father does, but it doesn’t feel like this. So coarse, so rough, prickling against the tips of your fingers. Not made silk by the submergence in water, but thick and apparent.

You don’t dislike it. At least, you don’t think you do, your fingers smoothing down the expanse of his cheek. Up and down, over and over. Feeling the vitality of this human life.

You don’t feel the same repulsion that your father does whenever mention of the humans is made near him, nor do you feel the same fear that your sisters have at the mere thought of them. You’re drawn closer, if anything. Curious to know more.

Wondering what would happen if he opened his eyes.

He has a nose, two ears, and a gentle prodding of his lips reveals a full set of teeth. They’re not sharpened in fangs ready to rip your throat (a rumor circulating through the schools of children) nor are they laid in multiple jagged rows (a preach hailed truth by your father). Instead, just a set of hard bones, the same as yours. He has two eyes that you don’t dare try and see the color of, and a full head of thick brown hair.

For all intents and purposes, he looks like you. The same features, the same design.

Your fingers trail downward, below the thick of his beard and down the column of his strong neck. His shirt is soaked and stuck to his skin, stretched to reveal even more tufts of thick hair on his chest. That is new to you. The men at home don’t have hair on their chest much less a kind so thick. They’re smooth, and if you thread your fingers through it in wonder, it will be a secret you take back to the sea with you.

Maybe the gods made you more similar than different. From where you sit beside him, the only obvious difference lies below. Two long limbs that hold flat appendages at the end. Feet, separated with what you can only imagine are toes. Ten of them on each one.

Maybe in his creation there was an image of you. A curiosity that was sated by the division of a tail into legs, but otherwise remains the same. Two beings sent to their respective homes and yet destined to intertwine. It must be, otherwise these unexplainable feelings that brew within you have no source other than sheer madness.

A kind of madness that finds you sitting beside him, staring in lingering awe at the marvels of danger.

You don’t know how long you stay there for, trailing your fingers over him. Finding them studying the feel of his skin and somehow always returning back to his neck, feeling the pulsing of his heart as reassurance. But, a long look to the horizon reveals that the sun is beginning to set and you know then that much time has passed. The sky turns to a burnt orange and the warning to return home beats within your mind. It is unwanted, but you know that you can no longer stay here with the man. Soon your father will suspect something amiss and send guards to find you. While you don’t doubt the capabilities of the human, there’s no guarantee he will be able to defend himself against the royal guards of the palace, especially in his weakened state. (There is no telling what he could do to you if he awakens in this state.)

So you will leave him with the hope that he will wake soon, that he will recuperate enough to pull himself from the sand and walk the short distance back to the mainland. That your efforts were timely and he is able to make his way home.

You will leave him and hope that maybe, he will come back to the cove in search of you. You will leave him and hope that maybe he will see you waiting for him in the water.

With a sigh, you turn your head back to his face. To look at him once more before you go.

Eyes as blue as the sea you pulled him from, meet yours. You gasp, jolting backwards in shock and he—the Captain, alive and awake— blinks slowly.

“You’re real.” He croaks, his voice hoarse. It still holds the same gruffness that you heard on the ship, the commandeering tone and hefty weight, but in the closeness it is twinged with gentleness. No longer addressing men at his command, but you. A softness mirrored in tone and gaze as he, for the first time, sees you.

His hand reaches up and you hold still in fear. The conditioning of your father’s paranoia rears its head; Is this where his strength is exhibited? In the calloused palm of his that is larger

than your own? Is this where he decides to lay waste to you in a manner your father is so convinced that humans possess?

Instead, his hand raises to your face, fingertips slowly brushing a fallen strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. His touch is light on your skin, brushing against the curve of your ear before trailing downward and across your cheek. Warm and soft, he stares a seriousness into you as though the only thing he intends to do in that moment is commit you to memory.

You fall into his touch with little convincing. His skin melding to your own, as though it were meant to be there.

“I thought you a dream.”

You shake your head slightly. His eyes dart across your face before moving downward. Surveying you before spotting the obvious truth.

“Mermaid.” He chokes out, in reverence. His stare does not falter and his face does not scrunch upward in disgust. He looks at you much like you have always looked at him.

Adoration disguised in the innocence of curiosity.

“You saved me,” He says. “Thank you.”

a.n: i blame my visit to disney world for this idea. the thoughts of john price soaking wet is irresistible, and i aint sorry for it!!

simon is next :)

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #cod angst #fairytale au #cw: mermaids #cod fluff #my writing #irda writes

138 notes · View notes

gatorlovebot · 7 months

Text

this is a part of the king simon series, but takes place way before any of the events in the series. can be read as a stand alone. but read the rest of the king simon series here.

in your months of serving under the king you had few complaints. your duties were easier than you had expected with the king being nothing like you had expected. word around the kingdom was that the king was cold and withdrawn, having a distaste for people. and while the king certainly had a distaste for some people, he certainly wasn’t cold or withdrawn. at times he could be brutish and gruff, but you had taken to his humor quickly, feeling comfort and security in the laughs you shared together.

he was kind with you and seemingly had an interest in making sure you actually enjoyed your job. it was a far cry from what you were expecting, he wasn’t demanding or cruel to you in a way that a king could have been. but he was still the king and you job was to serve him, even on the days you didn’t want to.

your cycle had started early that month, having no care or concern about how you needed to be well rested and feeling your best to be able to handle your day to day tasks. it was only day two of your cycle, but as it was coming to a close, all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. but simon needed his weekly bath. it was a nonnegotiable routine for him, having a hot, steamy bath at the end of his week. getting enough hot water to fill a tub big enough for him was an ordeal, but something that you had grown to enjoy. until tonight.

your lower back ached as you lifted up the pot into the tub, hoping that that would be enough to fill it to the king’s liking. you stared at the surface of the water, how high it came up to the edge of the tub and begrudgingly accepted that you would need to fill up one more pot to get it full. you hoist the heavy, warm pot up on your hip, letting out a gasp of pain as you straighten your back.

you thought you had been quiet enough with your pained noises, but within a moment simon was rushing into the room. he only needed a moment to understand what was going on before he came over and took the heavy pot from your hands. “did you hurt yourself?” he demands, setting the pot back over the hearth on the other side of his grand bathroom.

you didn’t hurt yourself, it was your body betraying you during one of your last duties of the day, perfect timing. you try to stand tall, doing your best to ignore the sharp cramps in your gut and the aching pain in your back. “no, your highness,” you lie, trying to suppress the urge to grimace. “just lifted the pot wrong, i guess.”

he looks you up and down with a scrutinizing gaze. it wouldn’t be the first time you felt unsure and insecure under his gaze. you wish he would just drop it, let you both finish up your days and him send you to your quarters. but king simon was not one to just drop things. “you haven’t been yourself the past few days.” he remarks. the king was an observer, whenever you would cut your eyes to him during a meeting or a meal he would already be looking at you. “you started out this week being short with the rest of the staff, and now you’re in pain. out with it, then.”

you averted your eyes from his piercing gaze, needing a moment to think. you could lie again, but simon would know you were lying, he always knew when you were lying. you wrung your hands, nervous to tell him what was really going on with you. it certainly would only lead to more awkwardness, surely. but you took a grounding breath before speaking your truth, finally, “it’s my time of the month, your highness.”

if he’s shocked or disgusted by your answer he doesn’t show it at all, face not changing. he bridges the gap between you and himself, his bare feet stepping across the cold floor until he is standing in front of you. his gaze isn’t scrutinizing anymore, his features softening as he takes you in. he tips his head to look at the bath before looking back to you, “join me.” he says, easily.

you watch as he strips off his robe, not waiting for you as he steps into the tub, settling against the rim. he reaches towards the skirt of your dress, pinching the fabric between his thumb and pointer finger, tugging a little bit before meeting your eyes. “join me.” he repeats.

“i- i,” you stammer, no matter how tempting the steamy water looked you knew how unbelievably inappropriate it would be to join your king in a bath. you had seen him in various states of undress before and although it was awkward at first, it had become commonplace at this point in serving the king. but being naked with the king? unheard of. inappropriate. unbecoming. unprofessional. but the whole thing was just so. alluring to you.

the king was handsome, so handsome in fact that sometimes you had to look away from him to avoid blushing. even after months of serving under him butterflies would still flood your tummy when you would take notice of his muscles bulging and flexing underneath a delicious layer of fat. to you and every other women in the kingdom, the king was perfect. if you weren’t working for him this would be a dream come true. but you were working for him.

he interrupts your useless stammering, “please, it’s least i can do.” he reassures. “i’ve been a right prick all day, think of it as an apology.”

his small smile and soft eyes have you melting on the spot. he knows what he’s doing, being all sweet to you. you’re weak for him even after a couple of months. you reach behind you, starting to undo the bow of your dress. “close your eyes, your highness.” you instruct, smiling at the childish way he brings his hands up to cover his eyes.

you struggle with the buttons on the back of your dress, but you’ve been undressing yourself for years, fingers working all the buttons undone in a moment. you turn your back to him as you push the dress off your shoulders, working on removing your undergarments.

he still has his hands over his eyes as you lift your leg, dipping your toes on the opposite end of the tub. “no,” his voice startles you, making you set your foot back down on the ground, fearing you did something wrong. “sit against me,” he orders, “i can rub your back for you.”

your stomach drops at the instruction and at the way simon’s gaze never wavers from your face, having taken his hands away from his eyes. he’s daring you to say no. you don’t want to. you grip the edge of the tub, steadying yourself as you get into the warm water, sitting yourself in his lap. the hot water soothes your sore muscles and he chuckles to himself as you let out a big breath of relief.

“feels good, right?” he murmurs, large hands making their way up to your shoulders. his hands were large, spanning the width of your shoulders. you hum in response, thoughts lost to the comfort you felt in his embrace. “i’m always right, huh?”

you laugh, something short and quick, at is ego, but you can’t help but agree. “you were right about this, your highness.”

his hands trail down your back, fingers prodding at your lower back, soothing out the painful spots. “tell me next time. tell me when things get bad.” he urged, words demanding, yet tone soft.

you promised him you would. you would promise him anything.

#gator.writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #king simon

176 notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 8 months

Text

Tastes Like Rain

Summary: the faerie king Andy has waited a lifetime for his fated one. Was growing weary and bored with the thousands of years he's been alive. And he was always waiting for you, his bratty little human. Don't worry, in time you will love him as much as he loves you.

Pairings: Fae!Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of burn scars, mentions of tattoos, mentions of punishment, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Jasper!” Andy groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. There was noise everywhere. All day long there was noise, and it was grating on his last nerve he had left. The king was tired, and was in the mood to accept his fate. Alone. Destined to rule the faerie kingdom with nobody by his side.

“Jasper!” Andy growls. He stands up and crosses the room to look out the window. What are those silly little faeries doing in the glen? “Jasper if you don’t…oh.”

Andy’s advisor stands in his doorway. The only faerie brave or stupid enough to glare at the high king. Andy was being a whiny baby, and Jasper was growing tired of it. The vines that are embedded into his skin prickle out. Thorns grow from the blackened vines, and Andy purses his lips. Glaring at his best friend.

“You see what you do to me? You stress me out!” He takes a calming breath, looking down at his arms to see his thorns start to sink back into his skin. He hated when Andy did this to him.

“I’m stressed out! What the fuck is that noise? I…”

“It’s summer solstice,” Andy’s brow cocks up and he looks back down at the glen. Collingswood was in an uproar. “It’s the Summer King and his Nymph’s first summer solstice together. You know after the uhh…”

“Ahh! We don’t mention that wench,” Andy tosses his hand behind him, watching the faeries lark about. Even sees some humans that were taking their chances to party in the glade. Idiots. They’ll be drunk off wine before the real party even starts. They wouldn’t remember a damn thing. It’s the way it was.

“Did she really create a nymph from the creek just to fuck him?” Those two always confused him. She clearly was a glutton for punishment while Ari had some serious size issues.

Jasper’s eyes narrow, turning a deeper green then before, and Andy has to look away, “They’re doing more than fucking. But yeah, they fuck. I’m sure it’s still a tight fit, and just the way Ari likes it. But he has taken that tiny Nymph as his Queen. Now if the high king of faeries doesn’t enjoy the revelry and find his own queen…ow,” Jasper dead pans as Andy throws a pillow at him.

“You know you’re quite childish during the summer solstice. I’m sure Jax will be down there feasting off the humans that wander into the glade.”

“Please, don’t mention his name. My brother gives me a headache,” Andy dramatically falls back on his bed, taking a deep breath. It had been years since he went down to the glade to enjoy the summer wines.

“You did have his wings cut off,” Andy slightly lifts up to look at the little man with a smirk.

“And he had his faults to deserve it,” Andy sits up. People always want to mention how he cut Jax’s wings off. It’s his right as high king to do so. Jax shouldn’t have become obsessed with tattooed humans. “What do you suppose I should do?”

“Get laid, and have fun.”

“What’s the difference?” Jasper could see the mischief in Andy’s eyes. He wasn’t particularly fond of the delicate creatures called humans, but he sure did love to toy with them, and see how far they could bend before they broke.

“Exactly!” Jasper screams walking out the door. “I’m going to have some fun with the rest of Collingswood. You should do the same. I’ve heard Jax is already passed out in the thorns!”

“Do you ever miss it?” Jasper turns to look at his best friend, shaking his head no. “You belonged to his court. Evidence of your birth runs all over your skin,” Jasper shrugs as he runs a hand over his twisting vines, the same ones that darken the path to Jax’s kingdom. “There’s no thorns,” his thorns only appearing when provoked.

“You’re not pissing me off right now,” his mouth turns into a devilish grin looking at his king. “Some things we can fight, and some things will always be a part of us. I can fight the darkness, but I can’t fully remove it. Instead of briars I have roses growing there.”

“Roses also have thorns, Jasper.”

“But they’re still beautiful, even if they draw blood. Now, get your menacing self down to the glen, and have at least one bottle of summer wine with those sweet fae that would die for a chance just to touch you. Imagine the immense pleasure you could get. There’s also humans,” Andy cracks his neck with a scoff. He’ll join in the party, but he will not have a human. They always brought out the worst in him.

“Oh, I forgot, the great King Andrew, High King of all fae in Collingswood wouldn’t be caught dead with a human. Even if she cries as you fuck her face. There’s always humiliation.”

“There’s always destroying them,” Jasper’s laugh sounds like a jingle as he walks out of Andy’s room. They were the only two faeries left at the palace, and he was getting tired of entertaining a king who was becoming far too arrogant. A human would do him some good.

“Can’t you keep up?” You glare up at the group of girls in front of you. A stupid fucking ritual. You didn’t even want to be in this sorority, but you were a legacy, and it was your mother’s last dying wish.

“Come on! We’re almost to the glade,” Charity giggles while she pulls at your hand. “You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like you walk into another world.”

“Legend has it that it is,” Faith. You hated Faith. Full of herself, and by far the most beautiful out of this group of pledges. She oozed the standard perfection, and it bored you to tears.

Perfectly round doe eyes, that glistened an even brighter blue in the sunlight. Freckles that splayed so perfect around her face you would think she put them there on purpose. Maybe she did. And the most beautiful and perfectly placed auburn hair. You despised her, and also appreciated all the attention that always went to her instead of you.

You didn’t know how she did it. How she always said the right things, and if she wasn’t such a bitch when people weren’t looking, you might have liked her the tiniest bit more. No. You didn’t like her at all. Not one bit.

“Stop!” Hope. The leader of the group. She was a fourth generation legacy pledge, and lived locally. She knew the legends of this stupid fucking glade, and was going to be sure to tell you again. It is a bit odd, a curtain of ivy that strug up between a few trees, mushrooms surrounding every bit of those trees.

“This is the faerie ring,” oh bullshit. These are perfectly manicured woods that people thought had magical powers. “When we step through this veil, it’ll be like you're transported into another realm, because we have been.”

Her eyes twitch over towards you when you snort, “Is something funny?”

“It's a bunch of mushrooms and some ivy. I’m sure the groundskeeper fixes this up for the college to play during summer solstice. It’s not that exciting, Hope.”

“No one comes and keeps this up. This is natural. Do you realize we walked three miles through the woods to get here? It never changes. Although, in the winter you can’t get through the veil because it’s not there. The mushrooms have all withered, so if you get trapped behind the veil, make sure you come out before winter. If you stay in there too long the winter fae will keep you for their own. They’re cold, and yet some of the most fiercely handsome of them all.”

She was an idiot. They all were. She holds up her bottle of homemade wine, and the rest of you join in. Yours was a mixed berry wine because why not? You hopped it was enough to get you sloppy drunk, with you passed out on the leaves or moss or whatever the fuck was beyond this ‘veil’. Children. Believing in fairytales.

“Now, if there’s men in here that you don’t recognize, go with the flow. I’ve heard sex with a faerie is the best thing in the world.”

“Here, here,” you pop the lid to your wine, taking a big gulp, “To fucking faeries, am I right?”

“To fucking faerie!” The rest join in with you. This was the oddest initiation into a sorority. Most of the older girls didn’t want to join in. Telling you things weren’t the same once they left. Like it was this high and all they wanted to do was come and party in the glade for months on end, but wouldn’t tell you what had happened. You guess it was because fucking faeries.

Everyone giggles, except you, as you walk through the veil. You ignore the static feeling that runs through you. Just lift up the bottle of wine for a long drink. Making your own summer wines was genius. Now you had every intentions of getting fucked up, and forget this night ever happened.

You’re shocked to see the amount of people that were in the woods, beyond the veil. All dancing and carrying on like they had been doing this all day. Singing, and celebrating some man named Ari, which you had never even heard of, and a tiny woman that stayed on his side. Thinking to yourself that it had to hurt.

With each drink of wine their faces become more and more distorted. Angles that are inhuman. Eyes that glow in the twilight, skin that is a color you couldn’t find at any makeup counter. You look down at your half-drunk bottle of wine, and quickly cork it. Unsure of how much alcohol was truly in this, but it had to be a lot because you are seeing things.

You didn’t believe the legend of the glade, but there was something weird going on. The people that were here before you surely had some machine that was releasing fumes and causing you to hallucinate. Hell, you could see different creautres…people fucking beside the trees, and deeper into the glade. They weren’t hiding anything. They just assume that everyone is too drunk to care about their indiscretions.

You aren’t drunk, you’re fucking fine. Glancing around you spot your fellow pledges in various stages of hookups, but not you. No…no one ever noticed the average girl whose clothes are too baggy, and lines of tattoos peek out of the hemlines of your clothes.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” you groan, stumbling away from the weird music and frolicking people. It is weird here, and the mix of the now disgusting mixed berry wine makes you feel lightheaded.

“You okay?” You don’t even look at the man that is behind you. You are perfectly okay, and didn’t need help. “Miss…”

“I’m fine,” you spin around. Nothing had even left your stomach, you just needed the world to stop spinning, but he isn’t helping. Sinfully attractive. Why were so many of these people topless? Did they just want to have sex quicker? Easier? Who are they? And why were they oddest looking people, and still the most attractive ones you had ever seen?

His mouth quirks up in a grin, and you roll your eyes. Not today. This was a dangerous man. You can feel his darkness roll through your body like the smoke he is exhaling into your face. Fuck this. You didn’t need this.

Going against girl code, you have to get out of here. Alone. You shouldn’t, but this place is haunting you in an odd way. Trying to walk past the ridiculously tall man, he throws out his arm, stopping you. “Back up!”

His answer is sniffing up the tattoo on your body, and you smack at his arm, “What the fuck!”

“You didn’t drink all your wine, little one.”

“Yeah, no shit, asshole. I didn’t drink it all because…” the blonde starts circling your body. Taking deep inhales as he encloses on you like you are his prey. This is bad. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“This ink,” he inhales deeply again, “Why are you covering scars?”

“How did you know that?” You gulp as he comes to stand in front of you. His heavily ringed, and singed looking fingers start to move your collar to the side. Looking at your scarred and tattooed skin closer. It is like your body is frozen, and refusing to move. The perfect predator had caught you in his snares, and was ogling your tattoos like his next meal.

When his fingers touch your skin, you sigh at how soothing it feels. Moving aside your shirt to see what your clothes and tattoos hide. His fingers move slowly over your skin, and your eyes are at half mast. Relaxing with this odd man. Allowing him to get too close when he licks on the tattoo, moaning like he was eating a delicacy.

“Ahh,” your whispered yelp sounds like it is coming from a distance as a sharp, but quick pain pricks at your skin, and you slowly become mush. Sinking into his embrace, and allowing this man to moan at whatever he is doing on your body.

Seconds become minutes, and minutes drag on, but still feel like no time has passed as your eyes slowly start to close, and then but one booming, but far off voice, “Jackson!”

Blackness. Sleeping off into a void of nothingness. But the most beautiful peace you had ever felt washes over you. Sleep. Peaceful sleep. Not visions and nightmares that plagued your mind. Only darkness.

“Why did you bring her here?” Jasper looks confused at Andy. His king was tilting his head from side to side like a questioning puppy. “She’s human.”

“I can tell,” Andy grouses, continuing to stare at your body.

“What happened again?”

Andy takes a deep breath, trying to replay everything that happened that night. “Jax…it was like he was getting a high off her. And I could hear her pulse, and she was dying. You see her tattoos?” Jasper nods at Andy, still refusing to step any closer to your body. “Those by her neck, they’re faded. The further away from the neck you get, they start to get darker. What’s underneath the tattoo?”

“Burn marks,” Jasper whispers. He didn’t need to be right on your body to see that there were scars all over your skin.

“I knew Jax could literally taste the feelings that went into a tattoo, but this,” he pulls back your shirt, running his fingers over the marred skin. “Someone hurt her.”

“Or she was in a house fire,” Jasper shrugs. Andy was always a bit dramatic and went for a more elaborate story.

“No. They’re strategically over her body. Her clothes hide them. You should see what’s under the clothes. She tattooed over them so…hey,” he gives you a smile as your eyes pop open. “You are…”

“Get off me! Get the fuck off me! Oh my god,” taking heaving breaths you look between the two men that were crowding around you. Neither is the man that was doing something to your neck. And both had an otherworldly beauty to them.

There is a shorter one with a mossy green tint to his skin, and the taller one is one of the largest people you’ve ever seen. “I’m dead, aren’t I? He…h-h-he killed me, didn’t he? Oh my god, I’m dead. I lived through all that only to die in the woods fucking faeries.”

Andy and Jasper look at each other quickly, and then back to you. Humans heard the tales, but most were skeptical. They came out for solstice parties only as an excuse to live deliciously, while returning back to their boring lives. But with you…something was off.

“He murdered me, didn’t he? He…goddammit. I’m so stupid. I always do this shit. I trust too fucking early. But this…I didn’t trust him. I knew, but I still let him…can you tell me what he was doing? I felt something. What was that? Where am I? What is happening?”

“Andy, she’s human,” the little one says again, and your tears cloud whatever is happening between them. They are aliens, and they’ve done experiments on you.

“I fucking know she’s human. She wouldn’t have…oh,” he stops to turn and look at you, “We screwed up. Miss,” the tears come out more aggressively, and you don’t even know why. What you know is that man…that beautiful man — no!

“Jasper, I’m about to smack her across the fucking face, make it stop,” you are not the crying type. You are too strong for this. How long have you been here? “Human! Stop!”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Andy rolls his eyes, before wrapping a hand on your ankle, and jerking you down the bed. Moving his entire body to hover over you, and it isn’t until you feel the wind that you notice his wings. The deepest green, and veining of gold. “Are you an angel?”

“I’m far from being innocent and kind. However, I did save your pathetic life for some reason, and…mother fucker,” he grabs at his chest, and jerks his head to look at the smaller one. “Deal with this before I do.”

Standing up, he stomps out of the room, and you jerk up in the bed. You could take the little one. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll run.”

“Run. We’ll just have the dogs bring you back. You won’t go far. You can’t,” looking down at your arms, you see that they were not bound to anything. Changing tactics to feel all over your body. They put a tracking device in you.

“You won’t be able to leave our realm without him,” he states matter of fact, and it makes you feel on edge. Him? That big man, him?

“What does that even mean? Where am I?”

“Here, drink some more tonic,” you slap the glass out of his hand, and he stares down at the shards on the stone floor. “You’ll regret that you did that. What do you remember?” You shrug, moving a hand to scratch at your neck, and start panicking again. “What?”

“The…my scars. They’re…they’re not really there. I mean they are, but they’re…”

“As faded as your tattoo,” you’ve seen it all. All these ugly scars that you had covered in ink couldn’t have faded. But your fingers knew the divots and bumps of your skin. This spot in particular, gave you an odd comfort.

“We’ve had our suspicions of Jax’s obsession with tattoos. Some people get them to tell a story. Some people get them to cover up pain. You in particular got them to cover up pain and scars. He was devouring you, and your…pain,” is that why you didn’t feel as hard? Why you had become soft and cry uncontrollably?

“In doing so maybe he was healing you.”

“Tell him to suck it all out then.”

“If he removed all your pain and scars would you be you?” You ponder the question for a second. You didn’t like the tears and the panic that ensued earlier. You hadn’t felt that hopeless in years. “I’m Jasper, King Andy’s advisor.”

“King?”

“Not just any king, but The King. The King over all the faeries,” you scoff at him. What a dream. That wine must have been good because you’re losing it. “You saw him hovering over you, and you doubt that fae exists? Hmm, you really are a stupid human. No wonder he’s pissed off.”

“He’s pissed off? Let me leave then!”

“You can’t! You better get used to the palace, because you’ll never cross the veil again. All those legends you stupid giggly sorority girls tell, they’re real. We had too many humans that partook in our wines, and we couldn’t get rid of them. Long story short, we created the legends. The fae gets their feel of human flesh, while you get to cross back over, and pretend this was all a dream,” you had cracked, and so had everyone else. This was all a dream. This was all in your mind, but touching your once there scar tells a different tell.

“I didn’t…” you hadn’t taken a drink of any wine, but your own.

“You were given a tonic. Sorry, my bad,” a glimmer of a smirk flashes on his face, and it pisses you off. He did it on purpose. He’s the reason you’re here. You pick up a vase from the table, and toss it at him. You suck at aiming. “Easy. Yes, I kept you here to become Andy’s pet.”

“Over my fucking body.”

“Oh, when I have it my way, he will be over your fucking body every fucking night. You’ll have pleasure one can only dream of, and I’ll have a king who isn’t sulking. I saw it. I knew the moment he was the one carrying a human body up to his palace. I saw it when he brushed his hands over your face. You two are the ones that can feel it, but you won’t speak of it, but I can see it. Don’t sit and try to deny the way he made you feel. And if grabbing his cold dark heart wasn’t enough, then I don’t know what is. He felt it deep in his blackened soul.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” not really. The man was attractive, you couldn’t help it if you grew a bit woozie looking up at him. But you weren’t fated for anybody. You just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

“Prophecy has stated that the king is fated to be part of a human. I suppose it could be interpreted many ways. It’s the reason Andy hates mortals so much. You’re fragile, weak, and disposable. But he hates the idea that he’s fated to be with one of you for all eternity.”

“I’m not weak,” your voice is laced with so much malic. You feel the pain of your skin searing again. Baring your teeth at this freak show that stood before you. “And I’ll never spend eternity with him.”

He leans into you. Getting his face so close to yours that his pointy nose nearly touches you. His vine tattoos starting to sprout thorns, “You don’t have a choice, my dear. Neither does he. Comply before he takes from you.”

“No man will ever take from me again,” you don’t scream. But your voice growls at him. Had Jasper been a mortal, he might have been afraid.

“Good thing Andy’s no man. Have fun,” he backs out of your room, locking the door behind him, and you wail. Screaming as loud as you can, realizing you are trapped in this room with no windows, only that door.

“Andy, that’s one that will need to be tamed,” Andy, leaning up against the wall outside your door, stands up straight, his eyes rolling up to look at your door. Hearing your screams of anger, and throwing everything in your room to the one exit and entrance. “You’re stuck with her.”

“I’ll have fun with her.”

“No,” he slaps Andy’s arm. “Do not go back to that side of you. She is yours. Have your fun, but not too much. She hurts, then you hurt. You lose her, then you lose yourself. Like it or not pal, that’s your problem now. That human being is nothing more than a petulant child. And Jax has her taste in his mouth. Claim her before either one of you kills her.”

“I haven’t killed humans in centuries. Such puny creatures.”

“She’s yours, Andrew.”

You were his. And if he had to be stuck with you, he was going to have fun with you first. Test your limits. It sounded like you needed some discipline. Needed learn how to act. He would have no problem with reminding you who was the one in charge. He wasn’t an angel, and he was worse than some devil. All the fae were. And soon, little Faelynn, you would know all too well about pain and scars.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss

#tastes like rain #fae #faerie #fae!andy barber #fae!andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fic #andy barber fics #andy barber smut #defending jacob #chris evans #chris evans character

229 notes · View notes

ssnowflowers · 10 months

Text

Not enough people talk about Pre-LimLife Mean Gills. And I think that’s a crime because it’s integral to their relationship growth and narrative arc (in the Life Series). Spoilers for the Entire Life Series below the cut.

Basically, their first meeting is Scott just trying to enchant his things, which is positive. And from here it’s just small, little interactions of mischief and kindness, nothing substantial. That is until Martyn and Ren demand that the Flower Husbands fall in line with their kingdom, and Jimmy burns the banner.

From here on it’s a (one-sided) relationship of animosity, with them consistently fighting and Scott even implying that someone needs to take out Martyn. This only escalates in the war between the two main factions.

And then Dogwarts kills Jimmy and Cleo.

This marks a major change. Scott is immediately joined with the Pizza Alliance solidly, switching goals. In his conversation with Cleo, Scott implies that everything will die down and he’ll just settle down in the Flower Forest. Now, Scott seeks the destruction of Dogwarts at all costs. This leads to the only low performance Scott ever gets in the life series.

He even runs off with Joel to do so, who is probably his #1 enemy in the entire Life Series. That just goes to show how much Scott wants Martyn and Ren dead. Their final fight is chaos, with Martyn and Ren killing Scott twice. During their last conversation, we see something interesting. Martyn is trying to extend a hand.

“Hey, I never wanted Jimmy to die!” “I’m sorry my Hand, but we must kill him.”

Ren is the one to deliver the final blows to Scott. Martyn is only indirectly responsible. And it shows that despite all the fighting, Martyn still holds his early time with the Flower Husbands in high regard. Martyn is still trying with Scott. Scott wants nothing to do with Martyn, which is understandable. His faction killed Jimmy and Martyn is the direct killer of Cleo.

Last Life picks up and immediately the Southerners and Scottage have a rivalry, placing Martyn and Scott as opposites again. Now, it seems like this will be a very nothing season for them. That is, until episode 8.

In this episode, Scott heads off with Martyn as Boogeyman. Many will presume this is heading in the direction of a cold and calculated kill. What happens instead, is that Scott tells Martyn that he is Boogeyman. Here, circumstances are different and Scott feels he can finally let go of everything that happened.

Martyn, who never held any hate for Scott, tries to actively aid him in getting a kill. This makes no sense from any perspective. He has no loyalty to Scott and an End Crystal could even kill him. And yet, he does it anyway. He wants to believe that Scott has finally come to trust him.

And then the finale happens and Scott kills Martyn. Twice.

In a way that mirrors what happens to Scott in Third Life, despite Scotts reservations he is forced to fight Martyn. Killing him on top of Magical Mountain and severing their tenuous bond. This time, Martyn is the one who feels the hurt. He ends up going reclusive until the battle royal, where he avoids fighting Scott until the man has him cornered in a forest and kills him.

At this point, Martyn and Scott have established themselves as fated rivals, despite how much neither wants this. And now the distrust is mutual.

Double Life brings about Divorce Quartet and it’s not pretty. Cleo is quick to forgive Martyn. Scott is not and holds resentment for the bleeding heart until the latter half of the season. Meanwhile, Martyn is resentful of the relationship Scott has with his soulmate. Once again, fate has placed them as rivals.

However, the gap is very quickly bridged in the finale episodes when Divorce Quartet end up as the final yellows. And Scott is finally able to acknowledge that Martyn isn’t so bad. Finally, Scott shares the same mind Martyn always held for him.

And then Martyn betrays him.

Martyn tries to kill him for the sake of his and Cleo winning. That has always been Martyn’s goal and Scott now stands as an obstacle. Scott is quick to message Pearl of how “they betrayed me”. As if Cleo had done anything. Rather, Martyn had betrayed Scott and now he’s hurting because of it. Because he thought he could finally trust Martyn.

And then Pearl kills Cleo. And like a Soulmate domino, Scott gives Martyn an indirect death.

I personally love this narrative. Two flawed people, trying over and over to care about each other, but they can never turn the other cheek long enough for one of them not to stab the other in the back.

In this way, anything less than Limited Life would be terrible.

Scott is so quick to bind them together as a duo. He doesn’t want to be alone again, hurt by someone who doesn’t give him the time of day. It makes him picking Martyn strange, but also makes perfect sense. Martyn always tried friendship with him and had undying loyalty.

It’s what re-contextualizes the crawling back scene. Scott doesn’t actually hate Martyn, he just wants that show of loyalty. He wants Martyn to make the effort to bridge that gap like he did for Cleo. He wants Martyn to stay by his side, like the man stuck to Ren’s. He wants the loyalty he can only get from a display of Martyn’s devotion.

And for the rest of the season, Martyn is loyal and protective. And that is enough for Scott to try. Their downfall, their hatred for each other has always stemmed from a lack of trust and betrayal. But Scott and Martyn have unconditional faith in each other now and it leads to them being the duo that absolutely dominates the season.

Scott even places Martyn above Jimmy. He completely believes Martyn will keep him safe, tells him everything, shares every faucet of his season with the man. And Martyn does the same, to a point.

Martyn hides everything bad he does for Scott. Every death in an attempt to kill someone who hurt his friend. Every betrayal he makes against other factions to ensure it’s him and Scott at the end. All the guilt he feels for every time he does something that brings Scott harm. Especially killing him for the time.

And in the end, Martyn and Scott are in final three. And Martyn betrays Scott, because the two can never get too comfortable. The two are fated rivals and someone has to kill the other.

But Scott isn’t mad. Because Martyn has proven his loyalty. He is his mean gill, and Scott couldn’t have it any other way.

#mean gills #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #I just wrote a whole essay #spoilers for the life series #trafficblr #majorwood

339 notes · View notes