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phoenixtakaramono · 3 years

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SUMMARY: Let it not be said that Shen Yuan didn’t know how to be an accomplished—arguably better—writer than Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky! A middle-aged author in his hubris, he’d unknowingly triggered his fate and had his consciousness whisked away into an unfathomable mystical world that he would later learn to be based on Proud Immortal Demon Way and his very own work-in-progress. When given the opportunity to customize his character’s stats and to design his one remaining Customizable Skill Slot, as a veteran reader of transmigration stories and their tropes, Shen Yuan demanded, “Grant me the protagonist’s halo of course!”

The SYSTEM was silent all but for a minute.【Understood. Unique Skill "PROTAGONIST'S HALO" activated. Esteemed Host, you share the Unique Skill "PROTAGONIST'S HALO" with one other.】

“Who?”

【This world’s Luo Binghe. From the original novel series.】

“...Hold on, I need some time to process this.”

(Little did Shen Yuan know that this world’s Luo Binghe is the same sadistic “Bing gē” from the released Extra short story. It was also too bad that Shen Yuan, in his mortal form, resembled Shen Qingqiu by a good thirty-to-forty percent.)

This was the second time they’d held hands. Fingers threaded together, palms touching. A significant amount of information could be communicated in the simple act of taking someone’s hand—the shape and texture of it, the roughness or softness of the life they’d led, and the strength or fragility of their grip. Luo Binghe would remember the feeling of that pale hand gripping his tightly for the rest of his life.

The mist billowed under Luo Binghe the moment he was allowed entry into the dream realm of the divine. Instantly, he was besieged with the feeling of falling into a frozen lake. The cold was a shock through his body, forcing his hand to convulsively clamp down as he stumbled.

Foolish, Luo Binghe berated himself. To have been finally welcomed inside the dream realm of a celestial being meant this version of his shizun had thought highly of Luo Binghe and his constitution. Yet instead of a composed and dignified air, Luo Binghe had just shown his weak side.

Shen Yuan halted midstride. Concern was written upon those white brows upon seeing his reaction.

It was, nonetheless, an opportunity. Luo Binghe forced an amiable smile as he pretended to be oblivious, masking any sign of his discomfort as he leaned against Shen Yuan’s weight. The sensation of pins-and-needles assailing him wasn’t something he couldn’t tolerate, but it was unpleasant. Except for their one point of contact, no part had been spared. His gaze lingered on the long scholarly fingers wrapped trustingly around his, before sweeping a glance over their new surroundings.

He felt like he’d stepped into a world composed of silk screens. Ahead, the fine mist passing through the painted scenery shrouded the outline of the tall mountain range and forest. Even the walls of the buildings were composed of firm brushstrokes and soft ink wash.

Since Luo Binghe had difficulty walking, Shen Yuan had to support him. Both men, mutually depending on each other, took slow steps forward.

Droplets of water splashed quietly from their strides as Shen Yuan guided him in the direction of whatever he’d wanted Luo Binghe to see. Like black ink that had been dipped into clear water, the transparent surface was beginning to darken with each tread that Luo Binghe took.

He stared down at his feet. The sight of the ink and water swirling into one another as though they were made to be together gave rise to the tide of emotions which had been circulating within his mind.

In the newly fallen darkness, he could sense his companion had fallen into another state of deep contemplation. As the two men disembarked in companionable silence, Luo Binghe took a long, measuring look at the landscape—at the secrets hiding within the fog, behind the translucent silks.

The atmosphere was incomparably resplendent and harmonious, yet it painted an undeniable fact about his companion. Knowledge could be gleaned of how this revered existence perceived the outside world. Life was a flow of changes—transient and ephemeral. Being in this realm didn’t feel real, with the indifference of an observer who was transcendent and so far removed from the mortal scale.

They were truly opposites—not only in their physical appearance and status, but also in how their dream realms manifested.

“…You’ve always had an unruly habit to roam and draw unnecessary attention to yourself!” An insidious and vicious whisper brushed against Luo Binghe’s mind like a wisp of smoke. “ It’s impressive you can even move so well inside this barrier. To think you’d chase him here on impulse!”

Hearing the litany of grievances, Luo Binghe hid the blade that was his smile. Unlike himself, he had no doubt that his senior might have been exorcised had he not taken refuge in Luo Binghe.

Because however convincingly Meng Mo conveyed his displeasure, his voice was nonetheless weakened by the barrier. He was merely being crotchety to maintain appearances.

Shen Yuan had made it clear that his invitation into his dream was extended to Luo Binghe only. With that one remark addressing the senior dream demon, and by performing the gesture of taking his hand, it couldn’t have been even more obvious what he’d wanted.

Earlier, Luo Binghe had gambled that on this fateful evening that the celestial fortuneteller would have no choice but to attend to his growing fatigue. His guard would be lowered and that was when the opportunity would present itself.

The practice of invading and manipulating a person’s dreams was nothing new. With his secret tutelage cultivating on the demonic path, beginning when he’d been a mere Cang Qiong Mountain sect disciple, he had learned to infiltrate many minds. Several had been his lovers—the first being his shījiě, accidental as it had been pulling his martial sister along with him—although the treatment his women received was far more considerate than the cruel methods he inflicted upon all those who opposed him.

He had seen the duplicity of people’s hearts and reproduced illusions of varying natures. He’d learned how to lure others when they were at their most defenseless and be able to find their worst fears and memories to inflict the maximum psychological torment. With his enemies who were impervious to physical torture, few could claim immunity upon being confronted with their own inner demons. And with his lovers, he could skim their memory fragments and indulge any spring dreams either of them had fantasized about, causing romantic feelings to overflow.

Because unlike the waking world, the dream realm was honest.

The capability to doubt was stripped away. Memories could be spied on. Falsehoods were exposed. And no secrets could be kept from him. Oftentimes one’s impulses could not be held back within the dream realm.

It was a glimpse into one’s truest state.

Meng Mo’s withered voice interrupted his thoughts.

“The ways of those of the Heavenly Realm are mysterious—but they are proud and have always held contempt for our kind. I know you are captivated by him, but be more prudent in choosing your words around him. Don’t be muddled in the head just because you believe he can replace the late Qing Jing Peak Lord….” Ridicule had crept into Meng Mo’s tone. “His looks aren’t bad but to have aspirations of eating the tofu of someone who bears the farseeing, discerning eyes of the Heavens…. Your ambition is bold, as is your guts. This elder doesn’t know whether to be impressed or scold you for your shamelessness.”

Although his lips had thinned into a white line, Luo Binghe remained silent.

Water shaped its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flowed. Tonight, many of his initial plans had been waylaid. Although he couldn’t have predicted its trajectory, he wasn’t discontent with the final outcome. He’d gained information that would be invaluable to him—and he’d finally found his shizun.

There had been a quiescent anticipation in the night as Luo Binghe waited like a spider spinning its web, searching and reaching for the only mind of this residence who was of interest to him, until he’d finally sensed the faintest reverberation of the otherworldly and ephemeral—a presence that could only belong to him.

And he’d pulled.

As someone who used to humbly occupy the Mortal Realm, never in his imagination did Luo Binghe expect he could claim success to the achievement of accessing the dream realm of divinity.

The rush of triumph had been dampened once, upon seeking Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe encountered a Qi-condensed barrier—a mental defense meant to repel demonic influences. Impenetrable even against the combined efforts of himself and his senior who had centuries worth of infiltration experience, no matter how much he’d concentrated—redirecting the violent and rough flow of his Qi into something more finessed—he was unable to cross the boundary.

Luo Binghe had been stuck at an impasse. Breaching the barrier would require a much greater display of force, inflicting irreparable mental harm onto the dreamer.

He’d realized the barrier had to stay.

The passage of time was immeasurable in the world of dreams, but with every moment that had passed without the precious person inside revealing himself, the fear had mounted. Perhaps Shen Yuan had predicted such an incident would occur and had taken precautionary measures.

In hindsight, his action had indeed been too rash.

It was inevitable that they would be going their separate ways in the coming morning. Moreover, the last deep impression he’d leave behind would cast Luo Binghe in an extremely bad light, with Shen Yuan withdrawing back into seclusion and harboring a grudge for being taken advantage of. The opportunity would have slipped through Luo Binghe’s fingers like granules of sand.

All would be lost. Faced with the possibility of being abandoned, Luo Binghe had been inconsolable. The tension in the air around him had been so thick, it’d presented an oppressive miasma in his own dream realm.

The giant boulder which weighed down his heart vanished when, with the keen senses of a cultivator, his five senses had detected a ripple in the fog.

From faraway, he’d been spellbound. He’d seen a silhouette resembling that from legend, with the unattainable white moon that was Shen Yuan descending down from the stars which glistened like shards in the night.

Despite the offense, he had chosen to come to Luo Binghe from his own volition.

Another realization had struck Luo Binghe. Seeing the regal figure out of his immaculate finery—dressed down to his inner clothing and with his moonlit hair undone, without a headpiece in sight—was a rare sight beyond measure. Aside from the servants who tended to their master, no one else must have seen him in such a compromising state.

It’d also been fascinating observing how someone of the Nine Heavens would interact within his world; Shen Yuan had assimilated quickly. Wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar environment, his appearance reminded Luo Binghe of the purest white snow, high above and unreachable, the likes of which remained untarnished. Such bearing was similar to what Luo Binghe expected for somebody of high status. Like a fairy unaffected by mortal matters, Shen Yuan’s manner had been aloof and vague. The only difference was that his attitude toward Luo Binghe had not been uncaring. Courtesy had been given, even knowing who he was—and what he’d done, and would be capable of doing.

There was no one who could deny Shen Yuan’s appearance was picturesque. When he was smiling, it was as moving as spring flowers and the autumn moon. When he was lost in thought, he projected an air of melancholy—solemn and ambiguous, like the subject of a painting one could only admire from a distance.

“…Xiōng dì.” A cultured and steady voice trickled into Luo Binghe’s awareness, pulling him from his deep reflection.

An invigorating energy suddenly blanketed him. All discomfort fled, replaced with the refreshing feeling of a spring brook engulfing him. Shen Yuan had fallen a step back so that they were now shoulder to shoulder.

Shen Yuan’s gaze was appraising as his breaths feathered the fur. “I had not expected you being here would be strenuous on you. Please take care of your body.” A hand went up to clasp him on the shoulder. “Endure the skinship. I think, for now, it’s better to stay close to me until you can stand on your own. You’ll be safer by my side.”

Luo Binghe inhaled sharply.

“Hoh. How considerate!” Meng Mo’s dryness filtered into his thoughts. “He treats you very well. Such goodwill. He certainly has a good heart.”

Stay out of this, Luo Binghe rebuked. You are not invited to take part in this conversation. Scram!

Replying in the affirmative though, he ducked his head. The hidden meaning of Shen Yuan’s words had not been lost on him. He simply hadn’t expected how protective Shen Yuan was of him.

In this lifetime, Luo Binghe would like to think he could recognize his shizun even if he turned into ashes—or took on a different appearance. Even the slow-witted were able to see that Shen Yuan was of different temperament, reminding Luo Binghe of the other “Shen Qingqiu” of the mirror world. This fortuneteller had a sincere and utterly honest personality, thoughtful and broadminded. Even when blood was shed, he didn’t condemn Luo Binghe.

This night was the first time they’d met, but it was undeniable that there was a flow to their conversations—as though they were not strangers but were, instead, dear friends reuniting. It was as if someone had seen the unfulfilled desires of his heart and had crafted him a companion to be compatible. Being with Shen Yuan felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Embracing him had felt natural.

Although he was a man, Shen Yuan had fit so perfectly in his arms. The firmness and strength of his body. Warm and solid. Alive and real. It hadn’t been the same as hugging a soft feminine figure but even now, Luo Binghe could recall how it’d felt folding him into his arms, at the simple pleasure of sharing body heat. Of inhaling his clean scent.

Being that close to him, the intimacy of such an act, had been so strangely powerful the connection between them had felt tangible.

Here was somebody meant to be unattainable and unreachable, whom mere mortals never would’ve had the fortune to meet unless they’d managed to ascend to the highest realm. Knowing that he was supposed to keep all divinity at a respectable distance made his awareness of what he was doing seem all the more enchanting.

There was no such thing as a string of coincidences. Luo Binghe held no illusion of what this really was; a second chance was being offered to him. Since they have finally encountered, it must have meant they were fated. Since fated, one must live up to the fate that the Heavens have bestowed.

(Cont.)

The rest can be read on AO3!

#人渣反派自救系统 #scum villain's self saving system #svsss #bingyuan #bingqiu #luo binghe #luo bingge #the untold tale #svsss fic #fanfic #fanfiction #phoenixtakaramono #look forward to reading 54 pgs in this massive update

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captcas · 4 years

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Worth Fighting For (11/?)

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5 / ch 6 / ch 7 / ch 8 / ch 9 / ch 10 [Chapter 11/?]

As fast as her smile faded, Emma’s mask slips back on and she answers for him, “Mr. Jones was unaware of this development and will not be answering any further questions.

She turns away from the reporters, each of them arguing with her decision, but Killian knows better than to question her right now. He gives them all a wink to stay “in character” and turns to follow Emma– scratch that, chase after Emma. She’s practically at a dead sprint, and he’s trying to keep up with her while simultaneously calling them a car. It’s not until she’s out of the stadium that she finally stops, taking a deep breath of fresh air and pacing. He reaches out towards her, words of worry on his tongue when she turns towards him. He drops his hand to his side. “Not here. I will explain, but not here.” He nods, unsure of how else to help excluding pulling her into his arms which he’s not entirely sure would help the situation at all. Luckily the car arrives quickly and they’re on the road without further incident.

Emma doesn’t speak for the entire ride back to the hotel.

Or for the next forty-five minutes as they nurse seperate tumblers of rum at the dimly lit hotel bar.

Killian is desperately curious as to just who this Neal fellow is, but resists the urge to privately google him. Emma deserves to tell him why she reacted that way— who Neal is to her— if that’s what she wishes. He absent-mindedly watches the recap of the fights on SportsCenter as Emma practically chews a hole through her bottom lip pausing only to take a sip from her glass. He can’t help but stare, even visibly perplexed in horrible lighting Emma is the most radiant woman he’s ever seen. She catches him looking and meets his eye before he can shy away. Emma sighs, finishing the rest of her rum and signaling for another, before turning to Killian, “I suppose I should start at the beginning…”

He can tell she’s nervous and attempts to lighten the mood, “Aye, lass, that’s usually where all tales begin.” He winks and she cracks a small smile disrupted only by a larger sigh than the first.

“I was 18, just started training at the UFC gym on a scholarship for athletics I received in high school. It was technically supposed to go towards college but that wasn’t really my thing. It didn’t take very long for me to realize I was good… really good. Gold wanted me on Contender Series almost immediately and my career jump started before I could say ‘Ultimate Fighting’. Well, the higher ups weren’t the only ones who noticed.” Emma pauses. Killian wants to ask so many questions, but is nervous to break the very thin thread of trust they’re walking right now. He nods slightly so she knows he’s listening and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

“He was older and already established in the league. He– he took me under his wing and showed me the ropes– media, fight nights, training, all that. Neal was my best friend…” She hesitates again and Killian uses every ounce of willpower not to grab her hand. “...and then he was more than that. We were always so careful but he had just won a huge fight and even got the Fight of the Night bonus. A little drunk– and not just on adrenaline– shit happens.” Emma hangs her head in her hands and Killian starts to put two and two together.

“Henry…” It comes out in a whisper, and entirely by accident. Emma’s eyes meet his and he expects anger but he just sees relief– he understands.

“Nothing gets past you.” She says it half joking and through the sting of rum, but he knows this is further in her story than she would usually dare to go. “Found out I was pregnant with his kid as his career was gaining momentum and that was that. I also found out he’d been betting on my fights based off what I told him in training and winning a shitload of money. So for whichever reason— maybe a combination of both— he left, blocked my number, and I was left with a positive pregnancy test and an empty apartment. It sucked, but it wasn’t long before I decided I was better without him. I left the sport and the minute I looked into Henry’s eyes, I knew I’d never be back in that ring.”

Killian has never wanted to knock someone out more. He can feel his fist clenching and tries to stop his jaw from tightening. Killian tries to tell himself that it’s not his place to be angry over something that happened to Emma– his heart doesn’t seem to care. “You didn’t deserve that, Swan.”

Emma nods. “I know that– now. I’ve come to terms with it.”

“Pardon my forwardness, love, but if your reaction back there is any indication I’d say that’s not true.” She goes to argue and he raises his hand to continue, “Not that I would blame you. I like a right crack at the bloke…”

Emma bursts out laughing, interrupting him. “Well, it appears you’re going to get your chance, Jones. And I am over it, just… wasn’t expecting the question– or you to be fighting him.”

Killian must give a questioning look because she sighs once more, “He’s been out of the league for awhile, working behind the scenes with his dad I’d imagine…”

“I’m sorry, love, his dad?”

“Gold.” The hair on the back of his neck stands up, realizing how deep Neal Cassidy’s blood runs in the league– clearly the reason he ran.

“Ah. Well, Swan, I promise to give him hell in that octagon.” Killian tries to make a joke but Emma is clearly still weighed down by something.

“Henry doesn’t know.”

There it is.

“He knows his dad is somehow connected to all this but he doesn’t know it’s Neal.”

“Why haven’t you told him?” Killian asks the question before he can second guess himself.

“I signed a NDA when Henry was born. Neal gave up his rights and I gave up child support and the right to tell Henry who his real father was. Once he turns 18, Henry can do whatever he wants, but I can’t— and don’t want to— tell him.”

“I would very much like to meet this Neal outside of the octagon.” She doesn’t need him to protect her, but he’ll gladly kick the arse of a man as despicable as that.

“You and me both.” She ends the conversation with that statement. Ordering one more round for the two of them and turning towards the TV. Killian doesn’t pry; grateful for her trust. They chat about nothing, but Killian doesn’t miss the slight touches of her hand or the way her smile finally reaches her eyes. He can’t be sure, but it’s almost as if sharing her story took some of the weight off her shoulders; her past easier to carry on four shoulders rather than two.

Killian is more than happy to share the burden.

. . .

Emma feels lighter, maybe even happier. She never intended on sharing her story with Killian but now that it’s out in the open she feels like the wall she was so certain would remain between the two of them has crumbled. She finds herself longing for small touches and even stealing small flirtatious glances. She’d have to be an idiot not to notice that Killian was sending them right back at her.

This is uncharted territory.

As they walk back to the hotel room, both slightly tipsy, the energy is reminiscent of the night they shared their first kiss– it scares her that she doesn’t seem to mind. When Killian unlocks the door, holding it open to follow her inside, the brush of his fingers on her back feel like lightning— a quick glance over her shoulder tells her he feels it too. Killian promptly excuses himself to the bathroom and Emma uses the brief moment to try and shake it out.

She’s not sure why she thought that would work.

Killian smiles as he leaves the bathroom, grabbing two bottles of water out of the fridge and handing one to her. If her fingers linger longer than they should have, but so do Killian’s. They sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed, and Emma reaches for the remote to fill the silence that is becoming uncomfortable in its safety.

She catches her breath when Killian speaks up. “For what it’s worth, Emma, I would nev–”

“I know.” It comes out without hesitation or thought. She meets his eyes briefly before inadvertently– yet not regrettably– glancing towards his lips.

She’s shocked to find she misses them.

That’s probably why she leans in a bit… she hopes that’s why he leans in too. Emma feels his fingers entangle in her hair. Their eyes meet and he pauses– it’s up to her.

It’s always been up to her.

Their lips meet and she’s internally kicking herself for waiting so long– and for their forced proximity turning them into a trope in a shitty romance novel.

Man, is he a good kisser.

They come up for air, Killian’s forehead never leaving hers and his thumb sending shockwaves through the nerves in her cheeks. She feels like she’s on fire in the best way imaginable– it's a new feeling, not one she even felt with Neal. It’s simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. As he softly kisses her collar bone, she’s positive they could light all of Boston with the energy between them.

She leans in more, suddenly craving as much contact with him as possible. The want is foreign, but in no way uncomfortable. With Neal intimacy was a chore– something she did with as much enthusiasm as washing the dishes, but she’s only kissed Killian twice and ever since her mind has flooded with emotions she’d only seen in movies.

She doesn’t want this feeling to end.

Before she can stop it, Killian’s backing up and she feels the loss. As he rubs his hands over his face, Emma’s heart drops.

She’s made a horrible mistake. Emma assumed she was picking up signals that she’s usually pretty blind to– apparently nothing has changed. “Killian, I–”

“Don’t get me wrong, love. I really–”

“I know, you don’t feel the same way. I shouldn’t have–”

Killian grabs her by either side of her face, leveling with her, “Swan, I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment we met… and even more so since– since last time.”

“But…” Emma knows there’s a but.

“But… I need to know that this is what you want. That you aren’t getting swept up in some moment… I can’t–”

Oh. “Killian, I don’t– I’m not– I just know I feel… something.”

“Aye, love. As do I.” His eyes turn from worry to kindness and she feels herself catch back up with the intensity of her want.

“Can that be enough for now?” It isn’t fair–to either of them– but Emma needs an out. She knows, without one, this will crash and burn before they’ve even started.

“I am quite a patient man.” She isn’t sure if that’s an agreement to the murky terms she so haphazardly laid between them and shoots him a puzzled look. He chuckles softly, “Aye, love. I’ll gladly take whatever you give.” She smiles, finding comfort in moving at her own pace (which is as unknown to her as it is him). Emma leans in again, stealing a chaste kiss from him and he smiles.

They silently agree to move towards the back of the bed, and she settles in tucked beneath Killian’s arm. He mostly comments about the show on TV, some procedural re-run he must’ve seen before. Emma listens intently, each word lighting a new spark inside of her. She’s been told love and intimacy were electric, but until recently she thought it was just an over exaggeration at best– now she’s positive it’s real. Between conversations they make-out like teenagers, but in small moments she feels Killian’s thumb brush across her hip bone or his lips gently kiss her temple and she’s never felt so alive.

When morning comes, Emma finds herself in a similar position to the one she fell asleep in, Killian’s strong arms wrapped around her in a hug like none she’s ever felt before. She feels his breath move steadily against the back of her head and finds peace in his rhythmic nature. It’s probably that which allows her to slip back into sleep for another hour only waking when she feels Killian do so beside her. With a kiss to her shoulder, he promises coffee and gets up to retrieve it.

The bed is cold without him in it.

She can’t possibly be used to that already, can she? Before she has time to contemplate what that really means, she gets up to shower. Killian is back with coffee and donuts by the time she emerges from the bathroom. They’ve not said two words about last night, but Emma kisses him all the same as he hands her the hot cup. He seems surprised at first, most likely expecting her to backtrack on all they’d discussed the previous night, and Emma doesn’t blame him. That kiss is all it took for Killian to brighten up. The entire morning happy and chipper, even as they drive home and get stuck in traffic.

Emma likes having that effect on him.

Emma likes him.

As Killian pulls up to her apartment, Emma is so engaged in heated debate over hard shell vs. soft shell tacos that she doesn’t realize the time. This car ride goes much quicker than the one to the hotel, their conversation flowing easily– so much so she even forgets about Neal. They exit the car, “Killian it is impossible to eat tacos in a hard shell. They practically become nach–”

“MOOOOOOM!”

Emma freezes, the reality of her situation hitting her like a train going full speed.

Emma snaps out of it at the feeling of his head hitting her smack in the stomach. “Hi kid! I missed you!” Emma kisses the top of his head before he pulls back.

She can tell the moment he sees Killian.

“Oh my god. Mom?! That’s Hook!” She hears Killian chuckle and she can’t help the ping of happiness she feels in her gut.

“Aye, lad. In the flesh.” Killian mock bows for Henry and she’s not sure she’s ever seen a smile so wide– on either of them. “You must be Henry?”

She was wrong; that is the widest smile she’s ever seen out of her son. The fear she felt has completely dissipated as she watches Killian interact with Henry. They hit it off immediately, Henry asking at least one hundred questions about the UFC and Killian answering each fully and genuinely. Her stomach flips.

Emma’s so enamored with the scene in front of her that she almost forgets Mary Margaret had to have dropped him off. Emma practically jumps when she appears at her side. “Wow, he’s good with him.”

“Stop.”

Mary Margaret smiles, Emma’s shut down most likely a clear indicator of what’s happening between her and Killian. “Just saying.”

“Thanks for watching him. I owe you a million.”

Ms smiles brightly. “Anytime.” The hidden meaning is not lost on Emma, but she’s not about to humor any of her friend’s shenanigans – at least not yet. “Bye Henry... Hook.” The boys wave and Emma swears her heart doesn’t do another belly flop.

She never meant for Killian to meet Henry this soon, but she also never meant for Killian to happen at all. It’s weird how her life has a tendency to chew her up and spit her out in exactly the spot she needs to be. When she looks at the way he is with her son, and catches Killian’s slight glance towards her– smile bright and full– she’s startled to find she can’t imagine a scenario where this isn’t exactly where he’s meant to be, too.

#captain swan ff #captain swan #Emma swan #killian jones #cs modern au #worth fighting for #capthamm

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ryqoshay · 3 years

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TA Followup: RPG Night

Followup Post for Tri-Arame: RPG Night

Author’s Note Continued: I actually started writing this scene about halfway through writing Change Overnight, because I had I finally gotten around to reading Setsu and Ayu’s Bond stories in SIFAS. Then I got sidetracked a bit and have now finally made it back.

So, I suppose some of the promised character details are in order. This absolutely will get long, so it’s going to have to go under the cut.

First off, though I don’t bring up much detail in this scene, more may come into play if I write other scenes like this, this takes place in a world created by the DM with whom I’ve played the most over the years. All of the in-game characters, and many, many others came into being because what was supposed to be a two paragraph character bio for a character I was to play in one of their D&D games, turned into a two page story. Then twenty. Then two hundred... New characters. New towns. New spells. New artifacts. New classes. And much more.

And then I stopped. I honestly don’t even remember why, as it certainly was not for the lack of ideas or notes or outlines for new scenes or the like. But the characters and their many stories have been gathering digital dust on my drives ever since.

I still think about them often, though. Quotes in movies and anime and such regularly make me consider what character might say them and in what circumstance. My headcanons for NicoMaki were shaped in part by what I already had planned for RyqoYoza. The reverse applies as well, as I translated one of Ooshima Tomo’s works into something that would work for RyqoYoza.

And maybe writing this scene will inspire me to write more of my D&D story. Who knows. But enough of that, you’re probably here more to learn about the new characters than to read my ramblings. Well, I will apologize in advance, as I may end up rambling a bit about them. To more easily locate a given character, I will bold their name at the start of their entry.

Also, the mercenary guild, of which all of the characters below are members, is known as Ryqo’s Roughnecks. Yes, those Roughnecks, from Starship Troopers, because I loved that movie, that’s really the only reason. I already had Ricochet as a character, so Rico’s Roughnecks was a quick and easy choice for when I wanted to register a guild in City of Heroes.

Ryqoshay, real name Rebecca Bouteillevoix, is a young girl who took over a mercenary guild after her parents were killed. Her father was raising her to take over the guild after him anyway, but she ended up doing so a lot sooner than either would have liked.

Her original nickname growing up was Ricochet as she was always “bouncing off the walls” with her high energy and neigh eternal optimism. It was also a joke referencing a typically undesirable outcome for archery, which was a strong interest for her. Upon her parents’ death, she took the first letter of each of their names, Yuri and Quentin, and misspelled her existing nickname to create her mercenary call sign; she kept the pronunciation for those who might wonder.

She matured a bit with the weight of running a mercenary guild, but still maintains much of her high energy and enthusiasm of her younger years.

Were I ever to get around to commissioning a picture of her, I would likely describe her general appearance as manga-version Nico for her stature, hair color and hair style, but with Setsuna’s face and eye color. Her outfits generally consist of dark purple and white, as those are her favorite colors.

Yozakura, real name Hakume Yaiba, (given name first for the sake of consistency) was hired by Ryqo’s parents as a bodyguard. As part of the payment, she was to be trained by Yuri, Ryqo’s mother, in the ways of the assassin.

She is the type of girl who takes her duties extremely seriously, to the point that after Yuri was killed and obviously could no longer fulfill her end of the contract, she insisted on renegotiation so as to continue to protect Ryqo. There were probably other reasons affecting her judgement at the time, but she has loyally remained by Ryqo’s side for years.

As for appearance, though younger than Ryqo, she is taller; think Maki and Nico. She wears her blonde hair long and takes pride in braiding it intricately and securing it with an ornate pin given to her by Ryqo years ago. Her standard ninja outfit is grey with pink highlights as they are her favorite colors. For covert operations where stealth and deniability are crucial, she would dye her hair and use the Shiftweave function of her clothes to change her outfit. She would also wear something to change her natural blue eyes to something different.

Nullsilver Luna, real name only known to a precious few, is a young elven girl adopted by the Bouteillevoix family and has thus taken the role of Ryqo’s younger sister, despite being decades older than her.

After one to many of her experiments exploded, causing too much collateral damage and injury, Luna was exiled from her ancestrial home and ended up wandering the human kingdoms for years. Upon adoption into the Bouteillevoix family, Quentin, the leader of the Roughnecks at the time, hired her to be their artificer.

Her inventions still occasionally blow up, but the Roughnecks have proven far more tolerant of this than the elves in her homeland. The fact that she can better weaponize the effect nowadays may play into things.

As for her appearance, as mentioned in the scene, her hair occasionally changed color, because reasons. Same for her eyes. She’s been exposed to so many wild magics and artifice through out her life that things are no longer normal for her, or stable. The only consistent part of her wardrobe is an oversized white coat with multiple pockets that she has effectively turned into a bag of holding. She cares little for color or style and will thus wear whatever else is handy.

Also, her personality is not all that unlike Rina, so it was an easy fit to chose her to be played by Rina.

Recipere, often shortened to Rx, real name Rachel Ira Xaviera is a cleric who joined the Roughnecks in hopes that working with them might regain her favor with her deity.

Rx is the sole survivor of a border town caught between two warring kingdoms. When one of the generals of one said kingdom found soldiers from his enemy being treated alongside his own, he ordered the town razed. She went on to gather others disillusioned with the war and proceeded to go on Roaring Rampage of Revenge (trope!) against the general. In doing so, she may have gone a bit overboard and lost her connection with her deity.

After some wandering, she came across a wounded Ryqo and Yoza who had just escaped the massacre that took the lives of Yuri and Quentin, and healed them with magics to which she had thought she had lost access. For reasons not entirely known to her, joining the Roughnecks has reinstated her standing with her deity and allowed her to be a cleric once again.

Rx wears her blonde hair short and neat, under a bandana or some other head covering. As her deity is that of the sun, she leans towards using yellow, gold and white in her outfits.

Lady Sanguine, real name Vivian Sexton, is a woman who was raised in a village of barbarians despite not belonging to any of their bloodlines. She is the child of the unlikely pairing of a healer and a necromancer, the former of whom gave her up to the village to keep her hidden and safe from the latter.

The traumatic experience of having to kill her fiance to protect the village from his betrayal caused something to split in her mind. Specifically, her bloodlust gained its own personality and voice within her mind and gave itself the name Sanguine. Sanguine is also responsible for Vivian’s barbarian rage.

Vivian left the village after the death of her fiance by her own hands and wandered for a while before coming across the Roughnecks. She joins the guild and earns the call sign Lady Sanguine because Ryqo thought it fit her. However, once Sanguine became known, most in the guild started using Vivian’s given name to reduce confusion over who was in charge at a given time.

Vivian has blood red hair and vivid green eyes. (yes, yes, totally original, I know.) As of version 3.5e, she wore blood red armor, but if I ever get around to translating her into 5e, that may change since the class now seems to get a bonus for forgoing armor.

So yeah, that’s about as short an intro as I can give for these women. I could easily write pages for each, but I started this whole post a bit later than intended and I’m rapidly running out of time to sleep. Anyway, thank you to anyone who’s actually read this far. But I should probably write at least a tiny bit about players and character assignments.

Yuu playing Ryqo was an easy choice. They’re both high energy cheerful genki girls. They both have dark hair that they keep in twintails, though Ryqo doesn’t dye her tips green. And as Ryqo is the leader of the guild and Yuu is the idol club president, that was yet another match.

Ayumu got Yoza as they are both childhood friends with their respective counterparts, Yuu and Ryqo. They do have a few personality differences, e.g. Yoza would probably be a better match with Maki, but she’s not playing this game. But they’re both diligent and loyal, so I think things will work out.

Rina was an easy fit for Luna. They’re both tinkerers with their world’s respective tech. They’re both emotionally challenged, so to speak, though I hadn’t considered emotively challenged for Luna; now I am.

With need of a tankier character for the group, I recruited Vivian and originally assigned her to Ai as I believed her energetic personality could keep up with a rowdy barbarian. And of course the punny name played a role in the decision as well, as did the fact that I already had Rina as a player.

Shizuku needed to be brought in because not only is she an aspiring actress, she expressed interest in playing a TTRPG hosted by Setsuna in Setsu’s bond story. The team needed a healer, so so got Rx. I figured any mismatch in personalities could be made up for by Shizu’s acting ability.

Then Shizu’s anime episode dropped. The inner dialogue between black and white resonated with me and the stuff I’d written between Sanguine and Vivian. I realized I needed to reassign things.

Thus, Shizu is now playing a barbarian with a split personality and Ai is playing the healer. I’m using the excuse that Ai takes pleasure in helping clubs succeed by filling whatever role is necessary, so to help this game she is taking up the mantle of healer to help ensure the game’s success.

And there we have it, probably the longest set of Author’s Notes I’ve ever written... deities help me if I ever do something like this in one sitting again.

#Tri-Arame

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sailorsol · 4 years

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I went and saw Frozen II on Saturday with a friend, and since then I’ve been unpacking a lot of feelings about it. I enjoyed the movie a lot, and I think I not only like it better than the first one, but it may be in my list of top favorite Disney movies. There were some absolutely silly moments (I laughed so hard I was crying during the power ballad), but there were also some really... amazingly deep moments.

Things I adored, in short form:

1. The little girl asking for a sextant. 2. Elsa’s little nod of approval during Charades. 3. All of the captain’s reactions during Olaf’s recap of the first movie. 4. The power ballad. I mean, seriously. 5. Two sides of a bridge. 6. The next right thing. 7. Anna validating Olaf’s right to feel angry. 8. “I’m here, what do you need?” 9. The guards supporting Anna once she explains herself, no more questions asked. 10. The delightful relief Kristoff has that Elsa is okay. 11. Kristoff’s reindeer buddy. 12. The choice made at the end.

Unpacking things further...

This movie felt a lot more mature than the first one. A lot more mature than many Disney movies. And I really liked that. Because this movie dealt so well with growing up and change and grief, and all of the complicated emotions that go with that.

I like that we see Elsa struggling to balance her own wishes and desires with the duty she has towards her people and her kingdom. How she knows what she has right now is good, but is it good enough? And she acknowledges the risk of going after something more, that she can lose all of this good that she has and not gain anything for it, but then makes the decision that she has to take that risk. I love the progression of her costume/appearance from the beginning of the first movie, when she’s wearing a high collar and long sleeves and gloves and her hair is in a tight bun, to the middle/end of the first movie, when we see her shedding layers of fabric and her hair is now in a loose braid, and by the end of this second movie, her hair is completely loose and she’s wearing minimal layers and no shoes and is finally free.

I like that one of the major motifs of the movie was about change, about how scary it can be, but also how there are some things in our life that won’t change even when everything else does. That change is hard, and it hurts, and sometimes you hurt the people you love in the process of finding yourself. That Anna validated Olaf’s anger at Elsa means a lot, especially since Olaf is very much painted as being a member of their family. You are allowed to be hurt by the actions of others, there is nothing wrong with feeling that way.

But a caveat on emotions that Kristoff did an amazing job of portraying; you are allowed to be hurt by the actions of others, but those are your emotions to deal with and sort through. For all that his power ballad is absolutely hysterical, what it is really about is his attempts to sort through his own feelings of betrayal and what that means about his relationship with Anna. So when he does meet up with her again, there isn’t an argument, he’s not accusing her of anything, literally the first thing he says to her is “I’ve got you, what do you need?” And that is such a powerful display of his love for her, the ideal of a relationship.

And Anna’s growth throughout the movie. At the beginning, she is still a child, in a lot of ways. As far as she’s concerned, everything is perfect and straight forward--she has her family, and her country is safe and happy, and life is perfect. But then we see her take on more responsibilities, more challenges. We have the scene where she essentially plays Big Sister to Elsa, putting her to sleep. We have her refusal to allow Elsa to go on her own, because Elsa promised they would face their challenges together. No matter how big or scary. She literally runs into fire after her sister, because she won’t leave her to do this alone, but she also pulls Elsa back from chasing after the rock giants because they still have a duty to their people. And her hurt and betrayal when Elsa sends her and Olaf away...

Which of course brings us to The Next Right Thing. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve listened to that song since Saturday. It is... a perfect summary of one of my favorite tropes. “This grief has a gravity, it pulls me down.” Anyone who has lost someone close to them knows this feeling, the weight of grief. And figuring out how to pick yourself up off the floor, not for anyone else, but for yourself. And it’s not easy, but it’s okay to take it just one step, one step more, one decision at a time because it hurts too damn much to look any further than that. But what choice do you have? Things change, but that doesn’t stop the world from going on, that doesn’t excuse you from doing the Next Right Thing.

This is a character trait I see in so many of my favorite characters. I’ve been way down the Star Wars rabbit hole recently, namely the Clone Wars (though Mandalorian hit me hard too), and I think this is the defining trait of my favorite character there. Obi-Wan has lost so much, been knocked down so many times, but he always gets back up to do the Next Right Thing.

That is the moment Anna becomes the queen. It’s not when she’s crowned later. She wasn’t even particularly thinking about that in the moment. She was thinking that she still had a duty, not only to the people of Arandelle, but to the people of the forest too. She knew her sister had sacrificed her life so that Anna would know the truth, and now Anna had to act on that truth, even knowing it likely meant the destruction of her home and the last ties she had left to Elsa. But it was the right thing to do, so she did it. And while the guards initially tried to stop her, they listened to her, they believed that she understood the consequences of her actions but had already reached the conclusion that it needed to be done anyway. No arguing, no dismissing her as a silly girl, no questioning her authority to make that decision.

So yes, when Elsa made the choice to stay in the north, it was easy at that point. Because Anna was already the queen of Arandelle. Because Elsa wasn’t abandoning her people--in some ways, she was accepting a duty to a new group of people that she never knew about. But here was her chance to finally be herself, in every way that it meant, but still do the best thing for everyone involved. That Elsa finally understood what it meant about not going too deep into the river, that she finally understood what Anna had tried to tell her about being everything for everyone. Because sometimes giving everything of yourself will kill you. Was it wrong that she kept digging for the truth? No, not necessarily. But it came with a price, and it Changed Things, and there was no going back from that moment.

I don’t want another sequel, but I do hope we get a couple of shorts at least, of Elsa visiting Anna for Charades night, of Anna and Kristoff going to visit Elsa, of something years down the road where Anna is singing the song to her own daughters so they understand the importance of it all.

I could go on, I’m sure, but... it all boils down to the fact that there were a lot of raw, realistic emotions in this movie, and it pinged on a lot of my favorite tropes and character traits, and while this story couldn’t be told without the first one being told, I still thing this one was better than the first.

#disney #frozen 2 #fandom #meta #fandom feelings #storytelling

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fancykraken · 5 years

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Here are more in-depth thoughts about Thor in Endgame because I need to barf some feels about it now.

To start off with I’m just going to say that I think they went the right way with Thor in this movie. Now, when I say that—because I know a lot of my fellow Thor lovers are not happy at the moment and to an extent I am too—I am not meaning the surface of what was seen by others and a lot of the audience.

I went into the movie knowing what was happening with him, so it wasn’t a big shock for me to see it (just the visuals were a bit surprising at first because I didn’t know what it would be like). I’m glad I knew going ahead of time because my knee jerk reaction would have been ‘oh, hell no.’

So what I mean by how I think for the most part they went the right way with Thor is this:

SPOILERS FOR THOR IN ENDGAME BELOW

[eta] um, didn’t realize how long this would get so if you do read it all I appreciate it and also have a cookie. <3

I think it was the right thing for him to completely fall apart and let the depression, PTSD, and trauma take over. I think that was a very clever part of letting people see underneath the surface of the King of Asgard. How could he not be fucked up by the end of Ragnarok and events of IW? It’s not possible, only a person completely devoid of empathy and emotion could just go on with their day. Not Thor. His heart is so big and so caring that he fell apart because of it.

The delivery of the line “I went for the head” gutted me. You can hear how utterly broken he is. Kudos to Chris Hemsworth for that because damn, that was heavy. You can see him lose touch with reality in a sense after that, the final nail in the coffin of his guilt. So to see him in New Asgard, much heavier, drunk, dissociating, and suffering was pretty much the only path you can take (not meaning physical details here just the overall concept).

It’s a very real and hard look at what someone like him has been through and the results of it. It’s like Tony in Iron Man 3 with his anxiety and PTSD. How can you not go through something like that and come out on the other side all sunshine and roses?

This is what I really think they did right with him in this movie. This is more the reality of the aftermath of trauma and while yes it is presented in a very flippant and comedic way it is still very good underneath all of that. Strip it down and you see how broken he is. I think Chris Hemsworth played it very well. While his performance was still more geared for comic relief, the pain, the denial, the fear, the guilt, the sadness was still there just underneath the surface and could clearly be seen. He was muddled, rambly, defensive, moody, which for me as someone who deals with depression and anxiety illnesses on a daily basis I can 100% confirm that these are some of the symptoms of these things.

The scene with Frigga was the right move because I think that no one except Frigga could help him tip the scales of him starting to heal. I know that Thor would have been able to do it himself, but having Frigga there for him to confess to was perfect. He couldn’t tell anyone about what was really inside him because no one except Frigga would understand. Odin could have to an extent, but he’s about as comforting as a thorn bush. And Loki probably could have understood a hell of a great deal as well, but he’s gone and he has his whole host of problems and self-loathing. Frigga was the right choice for this. And I know the fat jokes were there, the only one I personally will let slide is her saying ‘eat a salad’ because that is what mum’s do. I don’t think it came from a standpoint of Thor just being heavy, I think it was more just to have him healthier and clearer headed. He’s pretty much been drunk for 5 years straight, boo needs some vitamins and good nutrition.

Also, him summoning Mjolnir at the end of their encounter was so beautiful, I thought. He really did not believe he was still ‘worthy’ and despite Odin telling him in Ragnarok that Mjolnir was basically just a hammer and Thor had it in him the whole time it’s very real that depression strips that all away. You feel like a failure, a fraud, and not worthy to anyone. To have Mjolnir come back to him like that and his face light up was just so lovely. I wish he didn’t have to have that validation, but I think it was something he needed at that moment. Need to see physically that he was still Thor and worthy of all that he is and has to offer to people.

Now, having said all that and taking away the layers that were on the surface, the surface was... not great. I don’t mean as Thor himself and the performance, but the way the movie, story, other characters treated him. And I think a good part of it was there wasn’t time to go into it. The movie did need comic relief and release of all that tension in the room. Thor was just the unlucky guy to be tasked with almost all of that.

There’s an article here that kind of goes into the thought process of the filmmakers and while I agree to an extent, I also think they went about it the wrong way.

This quote, in particular, made me think a lot:

This was their way of showing how survivors are suffering and punishing themselves after the Snap. This was a physical way of manifesting the grief and regret Thor feels. But how do you punish a deity? How do you show that someone who looks like Chris Hemsworth has let everything go?

They made him a trainwreck.

I think the real problems I had with Thor and I know a lot of others in this was that whole movie concept of ‘show, don’t tell’. They went the very, very showy route.

The weight gain honestly was a bit surprising at first when I heard about it, but really I couldn’t give a fuck. I love him no matter what. I’d still glad drag him to bed if I were given the opportunity. I just wish they could have done a better job with the actual weight on his body. Hemsworth is obviously in peak physical shape, so the obvious thing was to just slap a fat suit on him and call it a day. I really don’t think they put enough thought into how fat would have distributed on his body and frame. It’s almost as if there are *gasps* no fat people in Hollywood to talk to about this. *rolls eyes* They really could have done better with the physical aspect of his body.

The fat jokes... well, as someone who has been fat their entire life they can be very triggering for me and I honestly had one or more anxiety attacks after hearing that he would be heavier for the duration of the film before seeing it. While the fat jokes aren’t really blatant fat jokes (it’s kind of hard for me to explain to people who haven’t had similar situations like me), I was okay. I’ve heard the fat jokes before, I’ve been the victim of many fat jokes before, so while I would have preferred not to have any, I think they were the milder of what you could have. If that makes any sense.

I am very tired of the trope that the fat people are only there for the comedic relief. I wish they could have toned that down a lot because I am tired of the way media treats fat people. Tired that fat people don’t get to be superheroes unless they’re a villain or just there for the laughs or laughs as a side character that helps out the superheroes. In this way, the movie let me down and let Thor as a character down. I think Ragnarok set up very nicely the balance of Thor’s comedic side and serious side. He was funny but not funny as to diminish him as a character or the storyline. This just felt he was there to be the funny one, like Drax in GotG Vol. 2 and I haaaaaated him in that.

One good thing they did right by him in respect of his weight is that they didn’t change it. He stayed the same during the whole film and didn’t have any special powers or short cuts to make him buff again or ‘right’ again as a large part of the toxic beauty/health industry/society has taught us. He was still the mighty Thor only with an added beer gut.

While I felt like his final battle wasn’t as epic as it was in Ragnarok or IW, I still think he kicked a lot of ass and took a lot of names.

And his Magical Girl transformation at the end... hoo boy I needed a moment there. The hair and beard with the braids it was just... ghnnnn amazing. It was true Nordic Viking God Thor right there.

Overall his arc in this movie wasn’t as deep as I was expecting. They definitely gave that to Tony and Steve. Thor’s journey was more there for the comic relief. I’m still not sure of how I feel about the end and the way he took off with the Guardians. It felt wrong but also like it was needed in a weird way. I’m still thinking over that. What I felt was wrong is that it severely throws out what was done in previous movies about Thor and his leadership, love for his people, and him being king of Asgard. That felt like a big slap to the face for me. When I first heard of that I felt so angry, so hurt that they would throw out everything that was built up for Thor and his overall character. After seeing it I’m less of that mind, but those feelings are still there. I think it may have sat with me better if it wasn’t just Thor literally handing Valkyrie the keys to New Asgard and buggering off. Because on the surface that’s what it was. I think it would have been better if it was presented as Valkyrie as temp ruler of Asgard while Thor went off to heal or find himself, which he is doing and I want him to do, or even find a new planet to be Asgards home, but not like that. The utter devotion and care for his people was such a key point for him in the previous movies. He’s better than that and to strip that all away and just hand it off to Valkyrie even if she is technically the better leader at the moment hurts. It could have been handled so much better and have Thor not feel so OOC at the end.

I really, really hope that this isn’t the end of Thor’s story because it feels unfinished. They left it open ended for more unlike with Tony and Steve. The Guardians still have another movie and I am really wondering if Thor will still be a part of that with this story. Will he be there to tie in Angela if she is introduced? I don’t know, but I want more, not just because he is my fave but because I feel as if his journey isn’t complete. It’s like there’s something missing and he needs to have the final say and find this inner peace. Tony and Steve were given this complete circle and that circle has been closed. Thor’s has not and while I can understand we may never get that as tight as the others, I think there’s definite room for it.

After seeing this I really hope the rumours of a Thor 4 will come true, especially with Taika. I can see a really fun movie of Thor healing and learning to live with the past. Will he be out there looking for Loki? Will he be with the Guardians? Will he be out there just him doing him? Who knows.

They tried to hold onto that humour from Ragnarok and some moments they did, but ultimately they failed spectacularly with pushing it way too far. If they pulled it back some and tweaked some things with the way others interacted with him then I think it would have been a lot less jarring.

If you’ve read this far then kudos to you. I know this may seem kind of a convoluted meta and thoughts about him in Endgame and I’m still very much in a mindset of that. I loved some of what was done for him/to him in the movie and hated other things. I need more time to digest.

tl;dr version: I love Thor so gd much

#Thor #Avengers: Endgame #Endgame #Avengers #Endgame spoilers #thinky things

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almostarchaeology · 6 years

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Worldbuilding, or What Fantasy Fiction Taught Me About Archaeology

By Adrián Maldonado

This post is an interim report. I have found that reading about the history of the fantasy genre has taught me something important about the history of archaeology itself. In my last post, I showed that Robert E Howard, creator of Conan the Barbarian, was building his Hyborian Age around the same time as JRR Tolkien was conceiving Middle-earth. For all their interest in the ancient past, neither author knew much about archaeology, a discipline that was still just gaining legitimacy in the 1920s and 30s. And yet their writings have much in common with the archaeological stories of European prehistory emerging at the time.

In other words, fantasy and archaeology grew out of the same origin stories, and they both carry similar baggage as a result. Let’s poke around in that dirty laundry for a bit.

Barbarian baggage (source)

Tolkien and Howard are not seen as being in the same league as writers; indeed, they are treated as opposite ends of the fantasy genre: high fantasy vs swords and sorcery. But the more I look into it, the more I’m surprised by the parallels in their trajectories.

I’m also realizing the parallels they share with another master worldbuilder working at the same time: archaeologist Vere Gordon Childe. To Childe we can attribute the first scientific ‘grand narrative’ of European prehistory, as opposed to Tolkien and Howard’s fictional prehistories. Childe’s career-establishing volume, The Dawn of European Civilisation (1925), was the standard text on the matter for a generation, and went through six editions in his lifetime. Alongside his academic work, he continually wrote companion books about prehistory for the layperson, making him a household name as much as any archaeologist of the time. He was even name-checked by Indiana Jones (though sadly not in a film that I consider canonical).

youtube

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Tolkien, Howard and Childe, born on three different continents around the turn of the 20th century, would go on to shape the western vision of its own ancient past, though there is not much evidence that they knew of each others’ work. Let’s just start with how closely their careers overlap in time:

JRR Tolkien (1892-1973). Born in South Africa to English parents; moved to England at the age of three. Began degree in Classics at Oxford University in 1911, but changed to English; graduated 1915. Professor of Anglo-Saxon, then English Language, at Oxford 1925-1959. Lecture entitled ‘Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics’ (1936) promoted the literary value of myth. Major works: The Hobbit (1937), The Lord of the Rings (1954-55), The Silmarillion (posthumously in 1977).

Vere Gordon Childe (1892-1957). Born in Australia to English parents; degree in Classics at University of Sydney in 1911-1913, then Oxford University for a BA in Classics and BLitt in Archaeology 1914-1917. Professor of Archaeology at Edinburgh University, 1927-1946, then Institute of Archaeology, London, 1946-1956. Major works: The Dawn of European Civilization (1925, 6th edition 1957), The Aryans: A Study of Indo-European Origins (1926), Man Makes Himself (1936), The Prehistory of European Society (posthumously, 1958).

Robert E Howard (1906-1936). Born in Texas, USA. First short story published in Weird Tales in 1925. Essay entitled ‘The Hyborian Age’ (1936) established a shared timeline for his Kull, Conan and Bran stories. Committed suicide in 1936. Reprinted collections helped spur the fantasy revival, including Conan the Conqueror (serials 1935-36, hardcover edition 1950), King Kull (serials 1929-1931, paperback 1967), Bran Mak Morn (serials 1930-1932; paperback 1969).

There are some interesting coincidences here, not least the fact that Tolkien and Childe both overlapped at Oxford, though there is no evidence they met or sat any of the same lectures. It is harder to show the link between either of them and Howard, who was born 14 years later, but despite the age gap, all three men began building their past-worlds during or in the immediate aftermath of the Great War. Tolkien was first struck by the name Earendil in an Old English poem in 1914, and began writing the stories that would become The Silmarillion by 1917. Childe began his life-long quest for the Indo-Europeans during his years at Oxford (1914-17), and it is surmised that much of what became his 1926 book The Aryans was based on his research during those years. Howard, as recounted in my last post, first discovered the Picts in a New Orleans public library in 1919, and by high school was already writing essays about the peopling of prehistoric Europe.

There goes the neighbourhood (source)

What really joins all three is that they are all, in their own way, prehistorians. Though Tolkien and Howard are best known for their pseudo-medieval worlds, they both explicitly tried to create links between their fictional worlds and our own prehistory. Thanks to the careful archival research of Tolkienists, we can track the evolution of Arda from its origins as a mythical history of England. As late as his time-travel story, the Notion Club Papers (1945), Tolkien was experimenting with ways of connecting his legendarium with English prehistory or early medieval history, the two timelines interrupted by a cataclysmic flood. Howard’s Hyborian Age independently used the same device – an Atlantis-like cataclysm that reshaped the Earth into the shape we know it today. Howard and Tolkien were both in the business of crafting proto-prehistories of Europe.

Both authors claimed these were only devices to help the stories feel realistic. But Tolkien never severed the connection to England: in his letters from the 1950s, he explains that his Ring cycle took place on our Earth, with Hobbiton at the latitude of Oxford and Minas Tirith at the latitude of Florence, but 6000 years before our histories begin. “As far as I know,” he wrote enigmatically in 1958, “it is merely an imaginative invention”. As for Howard, his Hyborian Age ends by outlining how our modern European ‘races’ connect with his fictional ones, for instance: “The Gaels, ancestors of the Irish and Highland Scotch, descended from pure-blooded Cimmerian clans.”

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There are volumes to be written about all this, but for the current post I just want to keep it about archaeology. From 1925-1958, archaeologist Gordon Childe published some 25 books and pamphlets on European prehistory, many of which, including his Dawn (1925), Man Makes Himself (1936) and his final work The Prehistory of European Society (1958), took all of Europe as their canvas, crafting a rich narrative with a time-depth even Tolkien would approve of. Like Tolkien and Howard, Childe was similarly attracted by the gaps and silences of the past. His interest in the Indo-European proto-language soon transformed into a quest for archaeological evidence for the peopling of Europe itself. The later 19th century had seen an explosion of national archaeologies, in which the emerging nation-states of Europe each sought to trace (or create) a unique ‘national character’ rooted in the ancient past. Childe, like many others, was enthralled by the discovery of these ‘cultures’ and did more than most to establish their scientific basis through the study of artefacts. But in his visits to museums across Europe, he began to see patterns cutting across national boundaries. The Dawn (1925) was his first attempt at joining the dots and telling a coherent story of the prehistory of Europe as a whole, and he would spend his life refining it.

Prehistory: all the cool kids are doing it (source)

In a time before the radiocarbon dating revolution of the 1950s, and when the concept of prehistory itself was still fairly recent, almost any vision of the deep past was based on a certain amount of conjecture. Even the Dawn’s scientific, fact-based version still retained elements of the fantastical, with technologies like farming and metallurgy being ‘diffused’ by wandering prospectors and adventurers. And more than Howard and Tolkien, his prehistories were inextricably linked to modern Europe. Towards the end of his Bronze Age (1930, p 239), he explained the weight of what he was describing: “The general economic and social structure that may be inferred from the Late Bronze Age remains persisted with surprisingly superficial modifications throughout the Roman Period in many parts of the Empire...Even in the British Isles many elements of pure Bronze Age culture survived unchanged by subsequent migrations and invasions till late in last century”.

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Childe’s prehistories did not survive the radiocarbon revolution, but the tropes of the world he built remain embedded in the archaeological genre which he helped create, as evidenced by the number of archaeological symposia and edited volumes about his continued influence. So the question remains – why were Tolkien, Howard and Childe busy reimagining prehistory in the interwar years? One stab at a short answer is that they all touched on a similar nerve in a heightened time. All three men took a cold, hard look at the old values that had led the world to war, and rejected them for an alternative history, one that looked beyond the great empires of the Mediterranean and Mesopotamia, which by now seemed too much like the collapsing empires of their own time.

But they were not alone, and not the first to do so. Across Europe and throughout the 18-19th century, there were movements to rediscover lost pasts, which we now dismiss as ‘antiquarianism’. These amateur practitioners and part-time scientists established the national collections of artefacts and compendia of ancient texts which allowed the modern academic disciplines of archaeology, history and linguistics to emerge. The appreciation of "cultures” which preceded Rome, the barbarians of Howard’s work and elves of Tolkien’s, has a long pedigree, and resulted in the emergence of a bipolar Celtic and Germanic inheritance for western Europe. Tolkien, Childe and Howard were all innovators, but were also continuing a discussion that had begun a century ago. It’ll be interesting in a future post to track the ways in which the progenitors of all three genres – high fantasy, swords and sorcery and European prehistory itself – accepted or rejected these stories in the worlds they built.

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Cover image by @callumogden

#tolkien #Gordon Childe #robert e howard #fantasy #prehistory

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