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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 5 years ago

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Michael in the Mainstream: Artemis Fowl

Since the early 2000s, Artemis Fowl has been languishing in development hell, and it really is a mystery as to why. The series has everything you could possibly want for a blockbuster young adult franchise: it’s a charming blend of science and fantasy with rich worldbuilding and mythology, it has enjoyable and even complex characters who go through great character arcs over the course of the series, it has an enjoyable major antagonist, an insufferable smug villain protagonist who goes through a stellar redemption arc over the course of the series, and tons of crazy heists that combine scheming and fairy magic. There was no reason this couldn’t have existed as a competitor to the Harry Potter series, but alas, it was not to be. The young adult fantasy franchise languished for decades in development hell, until finally Disney pulled it out and put Kenneth Branagh at the helm. Finally, we were going to get the Artemis Fowl adaptation we deserved!

Except we didn’t.

Artemis Fowl is legitimately one of the worst adaptations of any work of fiction ever. It has been held up alongside The Last Airbender and The Lightning Thief as part of the Unholy Trinity of terrible adaptations, and I’m not even going to try and pretend that this “Honor” isn’t well and truly earned. This film is an utterly abominable bastardization of the beloved franchise, to the point where this feels like an entirely different story that had familiar names slapped on it at the last second. If you want to know what horrific extents this film has butchered the story and characters, read onward, but there’s no way I’m going to pretend this film isn’t awful right off the bat.

There is literally nothing in this film that works. Nothing at all. Starting from the opening scene, the establishing shots, you can tell things are wrong – there are news people around Fowl Manor? Mulch is being interrogated? What is going on? The film from the word go is simply making one thing absolutely and abundantly clear: this is not the Artemis Fowl you know. The film goes out of its way to do the opposite of the franchise, merely using names and vague concepts in an attempt to sucker fans into watching it. Butler’s first name, an emotional reveal from the third book, is common knowledge; Opal Koboi, a cunning and threatening major villain who was the antagonist for almost every novel starting with the second, is here reduced to basically a personification of the voice on the phone from Scream; Root, once a short-tempered man who was hard on Holly as a method of tough love to push her to be the very best LEP had to offer to prove women belonged on the force, is here a woman who, while just as angry as ever, robs Holly of a major part of her arc and reduces her to plucky female sidekick. And even outside of that, as its own thing, the movie is just utterly incomprehensible. The story is rushed and confusing, with lots of exposition and action but with no context or cohesion. Things happen and things go from scene to scene, but none of it makes any sort of sense. A character will switch allegiances within a few minutes, characters will somehow find a way to survive deadly attacks offscreen… the worst offender is a character death they try to push off as emotional, despite there being no reason to care for this character, and when all hope seems lost, a deus ex machina saves the day! My wife, who is unfamiliar with the series, and I, a huge fan, both struggled to figure out what was going on at any given point; the movie is really that bad at communicating what is happening, which is even more baffling because the film is a pathetic hour and a half in length, a distressingly short amount of time to establish a new science-fantasy franchise of this scale.

The characters are almost all terrible. Artemis is the standout with how awful he is; no longer the cunning criminal masterminds of the book, Artemis here is more of a somewhat smug little brat who is overly emotional and, worst of all, NICE. He’s so nice in fact that by the end of the film he has managed to speedrun his character development and arcs with Mulch and Holly, who consider him their close friend and ally. Butler is pretty bad here as well, mostly because he is given almost nothing to do and is seemingly only there because he was in the book. In fact, his crowning moment – when he took on the troll – is instead given to Artemis and even Holly, with Butler ending up severely injured. It’s a bit nasty that they changed Butler to be black and then had his (white) master steal his greatest moment; it’s giving me flashbacks to Kazaam. Opal is hit pretty bad as well; being made the big bad of this loose adaptation of the first book’s plot – which is amusingly one of the few books she had absolutely no role in – wouldn’t be so rough if she was more of a presence and not just some vague, hooded figure who threatens Artemis over the phone and generally does nothing to warrant being an adaptation of the baddest bitch in the series. She’s rather ineffectual and they even try and give her a sort of sympathetic motivation, one where she resents humans for pushing her kind underground. It really is a disgusting waste of a character who could easily rival heavy hitters like Voldemort in the awesome and theatrically evil department.

Holly is almost okay, but her entire arc and a big chunk of her narrative purpose is robbed by making Commander Root a woman. Root, played by Judi Dench, is honestly one of the better characters since Dench has Root dropping lines like “Top o’ the morning to ya” with gravelly deadpan seriousness which makes the character unintentionally hilarious, but the cheap laughs don’t really make up for butchering the story of one of fiction’s finest ladies. As a side note, they have made Holly 100% white despite her skin being described as nut brown rather frequently in the book, and the now white Holly together with Artemis steal away Butler’s biggest moment. And that’s not even getting into how they neutered Juliet, who has also been race lifted but was turned into a child who barely appeared in the film. I’m not usually one to toss about racism accusations, but there’s a lot of red flags here that Branagh’s usual colorblind casting just doesn’t excuse.

The most consistently enjoyable performance is Josh Gad’s as Mulch. From the moment he was cast, I knew he’d do a good job and capture the spirit of the character, and he does! ...sort of. The decision to have Mulch be a giant dwarf and narrate the story in a crappy Batman impression while also violating literally the most important law of fairy culture (don’t tell the humans anything about us) by spilling the beans to M16 is unbearably stupid, and a lot of his jokes are just relentlessly unfunny. But I think that Gad does leak a bit of that Mulch charm at a few points, and it’s apparent he at least somewhat gets his character, which is not something that can be said for anyone else in this film. Sadly, much like his standout performance as Lefou in the live action Beauty and the Beast, he can’t possibly save the trainwreck of a film he’s in.

I guess I’m not entirely surprised by this film. I mean, a lot of quality young adult literature from the past two decades has been horrifically mangled in the wake of Harry Potter – Inkheart, The Golden Compass, The Lightning Thief, Ender’s Game, and Eragon – so this movie really isn’t an anomaly. But it is the culmination of a horrible trend. This is the zenith of horrible young adult adaptations, or perhaps I should say the nadir of adaptations as a whole? For all the flak I could give those other adaptations, on some fundamental level they still understood something about the source material. Ender’s Game still understood it could not erase the ending where children are revealed to be being conscripted to perform the ethnic cleansing of an alien race. Eragon couldn’t completely ruin Saphira, try as it might. The Lightning Thief… well, I mean, I guess the Medusa scene was mostly faithful. But Artemis Fowl? Artemis Fowl goes out of its way to be the opposite of its literary counterpart that there is no way to justify even saying it is based on the book by Eoin Colfer; it would be like having a movie about kids hanging out at the mall and doing mundane stuff, except they’re all named Jesus and Peter and Paul and then saying it’s based on the Bible. Just using names doesn’t mean anything, you actually have to use the themes and characterizations too, and this movie does none of that.

This movie is most comparable to The Emoji Movie. Neither of these works really deserve to be called a “Film” since they are basically whatever it is they’re trying so desperately to be stripped down to the bare essentials. The Emoji Movie is the most basic, by-the-numbers animated adventure film with a “be yourself” message you could ever hope to see, with a story so absolutely basic that just watching the trailer will allow you to predict the every motion of the plot. Artemis Fowl on the other hand is the most cliche-ridden fantasy epic franchise-starter you could imagine, and that’s if you’re able to penetrate the ridiculously dense and cluttered story and are able to make sense of what’s going on. I can think of absolutely no one this film could ever appeal to. There’s not a single redeeming thing about it. The movie is flashy, trashy junk that should never have been released, and Disney honestly did the right thing by releasing this on their streaming service because it would be outright disgusting to charge movie ticket prices for this tripe. The fact Disney has more faith in the eternally-delayed New Mutants theatrically speaks volumes about the quality of this film.

I can’t in good conscious say that this is the worst film of all time. F4ntastic is probably a much worse butchering of characters than this film; Disaster Movie is much more horrendously offensive and unfunny than this; hell, Chicken Little is probably a worse Disney movie because as awful as everyone in this film is, at least they aren’t Buck Cluck! But I don’t think there’s a single movie I hate more than this one. Lucy can finally move over and sleep easy knowing that the fact it’s not based on a pre-existing work has finally saved it from the #1 spot on my worst list; Artemis Fowl is now the reigning champ. Kenneth Branagh should be ashamed of himself for making and releasing this (and doubly ashamed for having the gall to unironically compare his slaughtering of Artemis Fowl’s character to Michael Corleone), Disney should be shamed for putting more money into this film than they did into BLM charities, and I hope that Eoin Colfer finds whatever he was paid worth it to see his greatest creation butchered and disrespected like this.

#Michael in the Mainstream #Review #movie review #Artemis Fowl #Kenneth Branagh #Eoin Colfer #fantasy film #fantasy #science-fantasy #Josh Gad #Judi Dench #Disney #Disney+#disney movie

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fandom-oracle · 5 years ago

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to die upon a kiss

title: to die upon a kiss fandom: heroes of olympus, percy jackson and the olympians. characters: jason grace, octavian, dakota, gwendolyn, bobby, several backrgound characters from camp jupiter, one mention of reyna. relationships: jason/octavian tws: potential gore, somewhat graphic depictions of death and injuries (posting this because @petiri thought it was good and who am I to disobey the roman prequel overlords)

He closed his eyes, hands instinctively moving to cover his forehead in a strange amalgam of shame, frustration, and fear. He closed the map that laid on the unadorned wooden table he’d just been resting his arms on, mustering up the courage to face the circle of nine other people in front of him.

Ida stared back at him, calm as she always was. Jason could recall the centurion of the Second Cohort since he was a child. She was some five years older than him, member of one of New Rome’s older clans. A descendant of Luna, even. All he could think of was the taste of the blueberry ice cream they always went for after the training sessions she’d put him on since he was ten, a memory somehow more intense than all the times he’d been made to cough up blood. Larry, her fellow centurion, put his hand on her shoulder, but Jason suspected it was more for his own sake than hers.

Hank and Marcus were older than the rest of them, in their mid-twenties, and Jason vaguely remembered that Hank was planning on running for senator next year. Their presence gave the younger centurions little comfort, they’d always been rather distant, acting as if their eyes were covered by fog, and it frustrated him to look up at them and realize truly how little they saw. Looking at Leila’s confident smile gave Jason some warmth, but he knew all too well she was faking it; like she did when they’d worked together in his first war games and they just knew the fourth and fifth were going to lose.

Dakota should’ve been there too, though everyone knew he was off getting drunk with the cadets, and Jason couldn’t fault him for that. Instead, Michael Kahale’s handsome face looked back at him from the far corner of the room, but Jason only had eyes for the boy to the left of him.

Looking at Octavian like that made Jason’s breath hitch for a second, and he’d fought his hardest not to scream out of his lungs for him to go away. The idea of a single cut on his skin, painting the pale marble red, felt like a punch to Jason’s guts. He didn’t say anything, though. Octavian wouldn’t appreciate that, and Jason understood why. They were members of the Twelfth Legion, and were well aware that death was a possibility when they’d made that choice.

Was it really fair? A part of Jason would ask. They were innocent little kids playing dress up last year. They weren’t soldiers, they couldn’t have known it would turn out like this.

He stifled these thoughts. Fairness was irrelevant.

-----

He’d be lying to himself if he said his decision to have Octavian’s troops complement his column wasn’t a little self serving, but looking at him as he bled on the otherwise beautiful garden of the Hesperides, he had never been less remorseful.

Octavian had left the formation with a number of members of the First Cohort to take out a the skirmishers at strategic spots in the pathway to the top of Mount Othrys, in order to minimize the number of infantry deaths and especially to avoid compromising Michael Kahale’s and Marcus’ testudo shield formations making their way to the Titans’ throne room. The main infantry column caught up to them and Jason, leading it, came across the bleeding bodies of Octavian and three others of his men.

“Gwen!” He shouted, and she left the formation to attend to him. “Take over my spot, I’ve got to take care of something. Just remember to steer clear of Ladon and the Tree.”

“Okay, Grace!” She assented, running to the front of the column and leading it, which left Jason free to concern himself with the wounded.

“Get out of here, Jason.” Octavian’s voice was quiet, and he’d been wounded in the outer thigh. “You have more important things to worry about than the four of us.”

Jason ignored him, wrapping a severed piece of his sleeve onto the wound. He wasn’t particularly good at first aid, but thankfully the bleeding wasn’t too hard to tend to.

“Can you walk?” He looked into Octavian’s dark eyes, trying his hardest to ignore the look of murder he was being given. He then looked toward the other three wounded legionnaires. Marilyn, Carl, and Julius, he recalled.

“Octavian’s right.” Marilyn said, wiping blood off of her hands on the black walls of the nightmarish fortress. “We’ll be fine, we took out all of their ambushers. You’re too important to die here.”

He felt himself get a little flustered, which was wildly inappropriate given the context they were in. Part of him knew she was right; as the son of Jupiter, he might be the only one with the firepower to destroy the Titans’ throne and sever their connection to the mortal realm. It was the job they went here to do. The job Octavian had damn nearly sacrificed his life to ensure he was able to do.

But that didn’t mean he had to feel good about it. Jason hated the thought of being spared or given special treatment due to his… father. Just the thought of the word made him almost wince.

“Plus, Octavian got hit the worst. I can walk, and Marilyn too. Carl took an arrow to his foot and passed out. He’s out of commission but he’s going to live.” Julius, a son of Mars, stated nonchalantly, which did little to alleviate Jason’s guilt. He was bleeding a lot from his side, but it did seem like a superficial cut, and Marilyn’s eye had gotten stabbed, but she’d managed to bandage it herself.

So this is what we’ve turned to? He pondered in guilt. They shouldn’t be here.

“I think it might be for the best.” Jason tried to rationalize his actions, hoping that none of them would notice his true motivations for wanting to stick around. “For some reason, the signal corps haven’t caught wind of any Titans guarding the fortress. Their security has been weirdly lax, and I’m starting to suspect they’re either being worn thin at the flanks or they might have been keeping most of their security at the throne room. Strange strategy, but it would make sense for them to underestimate us. Regardless, I think the infantry’s going to take the brunt of their attack. It might be best for me to sneak in and rejoin the formation at the top.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding, relieved that Julius and Marilyn seemed to accept his excuse and went ahead of him inside the gates of the fortress’ third floor. The truth is, if he was going to die, he might as well die fighting besides Octavian, whose he’d flung across his back carefully.

He was surprised how little he weighed. Octavian was a talented fighter, it’d never have occurred to jason he was so thin.

“Seriously, you asshole.” Octavian huffed, still out of breath. “At least let me walk on my own. You’re going to get both of us killed like this!”

Jason put him down, and the boy seemed to compose himself enough to walk despite his injury. The pair was soon engulfed by the oppressive shadows of the Titans’ lair, the only noise around them being the steps of Julian and Marilyn about three yards ahead of them. The corridor they were in was narrow, though tall, and they could stand beside each other, if a little too close. The exposed skin of Jason’s now sleeveless arm brushing against that of Octavian’s sending an electric sensation across his body, almost dwarfing the dreadful smell of blood, sweak, poisonous fumes and wet stone that surrounded them.

He took Octavian’s hand on his own, and sensed the boy get stiff, though he couldn’t see him.

“Not here.” Octavian said, sounding outwardly annoyed, though Jason knew him well enough to recognize the longing underneath his words. “Not now.”

Jason didn’t argue, and instead, they kept walking, catching up to Marilyn and Julian, who were acting as pickets. Fortunately, all they ran into was a handful of dracaena that were easily taken down, two of which by Octavian himself. As Jason’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was entranced by how he’d confidently thrust his gladius upon the monster, how the blood stained the clothes he was wearing under his armor and even his blonde hair was covered with little wisps of red that almost looked like a twisted version of a halo.

He didn’t know wether to be horrified or mesmerized.

After about half an hour of small skirmishes that they managed to make out of mostly unscathed, Bobby, one of Jason’s oldest friends, appeared in a corridor, bleeding out from his stomach. He’d been acting as a signal corps, carrying messages across the battlefield.

“Jason!” He shouted with the little strength he had left, then soberly delivered the message that would become his last words. “The front column managed to break through the gates to the throne room. They’re fighting the titan Krios; Kahale’s troops have managed to reach them, but Hank’s are still stuck fighting an offensive phalanx. Commander Gwendolyn is request that all troops rendezvous at the main hall ASAP.”

And with that, he closed his eyes, breathing becoming more ragged by the second.

“Bobby.” Jason commanded with a calm he did not feel. “Stay with us, Bobby!”

“He’s dying.” Octavian said, Julius and Marilyn nodding in return. “There’s nothing you can do, you heard him. Let’s go, we’re almost at the throne room.”

“I’m not letting him die!” He yelled in return, grateful for the dark that still obscured his glistening eyes, though he didn’t bother fighting Octavian’s pragmatism.

“Julius, you take the left, and Marilyn, you go right: warn any leftover troops to drop what they’re doing and try to make it to the throne room. If we can secure a victory there, this whole place will collapse anyway. Go!” Jason grimaced at the ease with which the words came to him.

-----

“We’re here” Octavian said, though Jason had no idea how he knew that. Was it his gift of prophecy? It didn’t matter. The collapsed floor let through just enough moonlight that Jason could see cracks through Octavian’s emotionless façade. His eyes were tearing up too, and Jason couldn’t stop himself from putting his hands across Octavian’s face.

“We’re going to be okay.” Jason tried to believe in his own words. “We’re going to be alright. And tomorrow, we’ll be back in New Rome, and we’ll be listening to Dakota getting drunk and embellishing the stories of what happened, and, and Reyna grunting whenever anyone tries to ask about her heroics. And... and…”

“Shut up, Jason.” Octavian took him by the collar of the shirt underneath his breastplate, kissing him like there was no tomorrow, and for all they knew there might not be. Jason tried not to look dumbfounded as a result, but he yearned to take refuge in his arms instead of walking to what might be his death.

“I need to go.” Jason said, poorly disguising a mournful tone.

“Are you coming back?” Octavian raised an eyebrow, refusing to betray his true fears. Jason thought it amusing, and for a small second, he flashed a smile, brimming of a confidence he didn’t have that things would be alright.

“For you?” Jason said, entlanging their hands together. “Always.”

#roman prequel time babey #jason grace #octavian heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #jason/octavian

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years ago

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Meet Captain America

CAPTAIN AMERICA COMICS #1 MARCH 1941 BY JOE SIMON AND JACK KIRBY

SYNOPSIS (FROM MARVEL DATABASE)

A short prologue outlines the young men of America joining the army and the threat of the fifth columnists, the nazi spies hidden deep within the American forces. Two fifth columnists in American uniform blow up a local munitions factory that is supplying the local army camp.

Meanwhile, in Washington, D.C., two army generals visit president Franklin Delano Roosevelt and inform him of the threat. They note how every command he makes is sent back to Germany and nothing can be kept secret, even amongst his closest aides. The president asks them what they intend to do. He recommends sending a comic hero like the human torch into the army, and brings in a man named mister Grover, the head of the federal bureau of investigation, who has a plan.

The men all change into their civilian clothes and into a car, where they are taken to an old curio shop. An old woman greets them armed with a gun. She informs them that the formula has been found and it won't disappoint them this time. A man, dressed in lab clothes greets them and ushers them into the viewing gallery of a secret lab, where a frail young man is attached to a machine, and the old woman tears off her mask revealing x-13, one of the best agents. The young man is injected with a liquid and starts to grow until he is above the normal human physique. The doctor also notes that his intelligence and strength are being increased. The doctor christens him captain america and tells him that his duty is to protect the American shores from nazi spies and saboteurs.

Suddenly, one of the army officials, secretly working for the Gestapo, pulls out a gun and shoots the doctor, professor reinstein. A second shot then obliterates the serum that gave Captain America his powers, meaning no more super soldiers can be created. He lets out a third shot, hitting Grover, before cap bursts through the glass and beats him into submission. The barely conscious spy stumbles into a large electrical device, shocking him to death. Cap, now in uniform, is told to have been taking out all of the Nazi threats, while the newspapers wonder "Who is Captain America?".

Meanwhile at an army camp the mascot James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes shows a private named Steve Rogers a news report of caps latest victory, saying how he'd love to meet him. That night, he walks in on Steve changing into the Captain America suit, preparing for more exploits. Having made this discovery, Steve says Bucky must keep his identity secret and he asks if he would like to be his sidekick. They suit up and together run off to stop nazi threats.

Tickets are being sold for the performance of the psychics, Sando (Von Krantz) & Omar, for only ten cents each. On stage, Sando looks into the eyes of a dwarfed Omar. Sando asks Omar what he thinks is to come and his prediction of a terrible accident at Fort Bix is projected onto a crystal ball. At that very instant Fort Bix is shaken by a terrific blast. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky are reading about the psychics in the newspaper. Bucky thinks they are phony and the two decide to visit the theater. Yet again, the weird performance is repeated while Steve and Bucky are in the audience. This time, Omar sees Hilltown bridge collapsing. Steve and Bucky rush to prevent the disaster but they are too late. The duo returns to the theater to found out how Sando & Omar knew about the disaster. Suddenly, a woman’s shrill cry for help causes Captain America to whirl about. He follows the scream to Sando’s dressing room. A couple of gun men are holding Betsy Ross captured. Sando reveals that he is Von Krantz and has plan a chain of disasters that will destroy the morale of the United States. Betsy Ross reveals that Omar is just a poor idiotic tool. As the battle begins, Von Krantz tries to bomb the place. However, Bucky throws out the bomb through a window. The duo wins and Betsy Ross wants to thank them, but Captain America only says goodnight and leaves.

In a secluded section of town, Rathcone approaches a chessboard with chess pieces that resemble real people. He announces to his agents that Admiral Perkins is giving a lecture tonight and tonight is the night that Admiral must die. Meanwhile, Steve convinces a reluctant Bucky to attend the lecture. As the curtains part at the lecture, the audience is witness to the Admiral’s dead body. A stunned Steve and Bucky change into their costumes to chase down the killer. When Bucky prowls through the darkened alleys, he is watched by a lurking killer, Number 5. As Number 5 and Bucky begin to fight, Captain America jumps in and saves Bucky. The agent refuses to talk but Captain America convinces him too. At that moment, a bullet hits the Nazi agent. Number 5 slumps in death as Captain America wards off a deadly hail of bullets. Cap notices three men, but they can’t catch up to them. The duo decides to go back to Camp Lehigh. Rathcone continues his chess game and plans for General Ellsworth death. That same evening, Mike Duffy tells Steve and Bucky that they are on special duty at the General’s hut. However, the duo finds him dead inside the hut. The next day newspapers announce to the America public another brutal killing in the ranks of the nation’s military command. Rathcone moves onto to his next victims, Captain America and Bucky, by sending out Strangler and Herr Kameleon after them. Later back at the camp, Strangler visits Bucky and fools him into thinking he could solve the killing. That night, Bucky quietly approaches a shabby building. He walks into a trap and sees Ratchone and the chessboard. Bucky tries to run but Rathcone trips him. He waits to kill Bucky because he wants to kill Cap and Bucky at the same time. Finding a note from Bucky, Captain America finds Rathcone’s hideout. A battle begins and Rathcone pulls a gun on him. The duo beats Rathcone and his gang. Captain America calls the F.B.I to report where the criminals are at. Major Fields tells Steve later that he wishes he knew who Captain America was.

A worried Steve and Bucky drop off Major Croy at his home, who has just received a card from the Red Skull. Major Croy believes there is no such person and quickly goes into his home. While reading, the Major gets a surprise visit from the Red Skull. With his wide hypnotic eyes, the Red Skull gazes deep into the Major’s eyes and tells him to “look until you see death.” Captain America hears the news and decides he wants to handle this case without Bucky. However, it’s Bucky who accidentally discovers the Red Skull’s headquarters. While standing out on the rooftops, one of the Red Skull’s henchmen, Slug, finds Bucky. Slug brings him to the Red Skull not knowing that it’s Captain America’s partner. Cap finds the headquarters himself and a fight breaks out. In the midst of the fray the Red Skull departs through a secret exit. The duo decides to return to Camp Lehigh.

The next day, George Maxon of the Maxon Aircraft Corporation comes in person to watch his new plane take an army test. The plane catches on fire while in the air and crashes, killing the men inside. Maxon is sadden by the plane’s crash, but Steve is only concerned about the men in the plane.

Later, General Charles Manor goes home and gets a package from the Red Skull. As the General opens the package, the Red Skull appears in the room and kills him. Mildred Manor hears the struggle and with a gun in her hand rushes into the room. As the Red Skull smacks her down, he hears footsteps and like an angry tornado Captain America bursts into the room. Cap knocks the Red Skull’s mask off and it shatters. It’s revealed that it’s George Maxon and he has been using hypodermic needles to kill his victims. Another fight breaks out and Maxon rolls over this own hypodermic needle. Bucky asks why Captain America didn’t stop Maxon from rolling over. Cap says he is not talking about it and he calls the F.B.I to tell them that Maxon committed suicide. The F.B.I finds a note that Maxon was working for Hitler.

REVIEW

If you look at this comic-book without looking at the context, you may think it’s just another Golden Age comic-book. But it has one main difference to the other books of the time. Jack Kirby.

While Kirby’s style wasn’t there yet, his dynamic layouts are already a thing. His characters are trying to escape the panels, the layouts are more flexible, this isn’t a comic-strip adapted to a page anymore, this is a different animal.

The issue contains several first appearances, but the stories are not exactly entertaining (from a modern point of view). Perhaps the main issue with these stories is that America wasn’t at war yet, and it is all about combating spies. A war would broaden the adventures a lot more.

Unlike Robin, Bucky is the sidekick of an enhanced soldier. This is more similar to the Shield’s sidekick, another boy without super-powers in the company of a super-hero. The similarities are too big between both properties, but I can believe that Bucky and the Shield’s sidekicks were conceived around the same time.

As usual, Marvel stories are a bit more aggressive in terms of patriotism than the other publishers, I can imagine this was the main attraction for kids.

I give this issue a score of 9

#joe simon #jack kirby #marvel comics #comics #review #1941 #world war ii #captain america #bucky #captain america comics #golden age #red skull

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avenger-concerto · 6 years ago

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Operation Knight Song (RFSS2018)

Heya @invaderpig I’m your Secret Santa for 2018. I want to extend my deepest apologies for posting this so late. The Holidays got hectic as hell for me back in December along with other priorities coupled with post-Holiday slump. I managed to finish this ficlet though. I had a blast working on this one. I’ve never done Doug x Frey in any fan RF4 work so I hope I captured their dynamic finely.

Wishing you a late Happy Holidays and a Happy new Year! Once more, I would like to thank @runefactorysecretsanta for hosting this event. This is my third time in a row participating and I love how it brings the RF community together.

Title: Operation Knight Song

Genre(s): Slice of life, romance, fluff, comedy, some drama

Pairings / ships: Doug x Frey and Margaret / Meg x Forte

Rating: T (13 and up) - mild profanity, some innuendos / suggestive jokes but nothing extreme.

Summary: During the Night of Holies in Selphia, Doug and Frey help Forte confess to the love of her life in a group outing.

Word count: 3813 words.

It was the snowy and star-lit evening of Winter the 24th in the independent town of Selphia. More specifically, it was the eve which preceded Christmas day: the Night of Holies.

Usually, it was tradition for the natives of Norad and by extension Selphia to celebrate the evening in peaceful solace and tranquility. In addition, it was known as a night perfect for romantic rendezvous and evening dates. It was all the more true for the Night of Holies this particular year.

Within the grand halls of Selphia Castle, the princess and her first man hurriedly prepared for what the former codenamed as “Operation Knight Song”.

“Doug, we’re going to be late. C’mon you’re taking too long! They might have arrived at the plaza already…”

“Hold on, dear. Ngh, this jacket’s too huge! I have no idea what size Volkanon picked out but it’s taking me longer than usual to…”

“Ok, less complaining, more moving or we’re gonna be late. We don’t want to keep them waiting, right?”

“Wait dear, I’m finished!!”

In a frenzied but enthusiastic rush, Princess Frey’s husband: Doug, descended from the 2nd floor of their living area with a pair of black pants, brown snowboots and a crimson colored jacket. Despite his previous complaints, it turns out the jacket was just about the right size as shown through his satisfied grin.

“Well, how do I look?” the red-head dwarf asked between gasping breaths.

“You look fantastic!” Frey chirped with a smiled as she clapped her hands together. “What do you think of mine now? Dolce and Clorica helped pick this out for me the other day. We had it custom tailored and ordered from Norad’s capital.”

Doug took another look at his wife’s snow-friendly attire which consisted of a beautiful black coat accompanied by an emerald coloured Wooly fur snow cap with both pieces complimented by an illustrious snow white scarf. For the evening, Frey had also undid her twin-tails, letting her long and beautiful emerald hair down.

“Stunning, I dunno what else to say.” Doug widened his eyes while his lips formed what could easily be described as a dreamy yet flustered smile.

“Hoooooh? Flirting this early on in the Night of Holies?” Frey snickered as she motion towards her husband, clinging onto his arm playfully. “I guess you are desperate for a spot within Santa’s Naughty List.”

“Gahhh, cut it out!” Doug yelped, his objections contradicting his now reddened cheeks. “N-not that I mind but not this early either, h-haha…”

“This blockhead,” Frey whimsically thought, “Wonder how we’re gonna have kids at this rate?”

Doug spoke, “So uh, what about Ventuswill?”

“She’s fast asleep.” she informed her husband, “I had Clorica and Vishnal prepare her a cup of hot milk and a serving of pancakes. Venti wanted to go to bed early so she wouldn’t wake up late and miss the Christmas festivities.”

“Alright! Now that’s all settled…Let’s head out then, shall we?” Doug smiled coolly, extending his hand out.

Frey giggled slightly as she took her husband by the hand. “Of course. As the high princess of Selphia, Operation Knight Song will not fail!”

For the sake of some yuletide context in this given Night of Holies and by extension “Operation Knight Song”, it is commonly well known in Selphia that there were two individuals who helped push the princess together with the hotheaded dwarf shopkeep of the general store. The honour went to none other than Margaret or by her nickname: Meg, the gentle elf musician of Porcoline’s Kitchen and Forte, the dashing and valiant head knight of the town.

Meg acted as a wingwoman of sorts to her close friend Frey and it was Forte who was always there to convince Doug to get his act together when it mattered the most. They’ve both remained strong family friends to Selphia’s royal couple ever since.

Of course, there is much more to this story and Frey herself knew it very well. Throughout this all Meg and Forte remained close friends. Relegating the overall feeling to “friendship” was a massive underestimation, so to speak. In reality…

“Forte, Meg! We’re here!” Frey excitingly called out as she and her husband approached the two figures waiting outside on the snowy centre of Selphia plaza.

“Good evening you two!” Margaret waved her hand and approached the couple, giving Frey an affectionate hug afterwards. “Ohmigosh, you both look so adorable!”

“Awwwww, thank you!” Frey squeed in delight. “You’re looking stylish too Meg. Same goes to you, Forte!”

“N-no, I’m not in need for any compliment whatsoever…” the blonde and tall knight mumbled. “I just put on a new cape that Kiel bought me. If anything, Meg looks so much better.”

Margaret wore her usual outfit but this time adorned with an azure mantle cloak, a kind of fashion that was common in the Nation of Elves as well as a checkered scarf which Forte had given her as a birthday present earlier in the year.

Forte had her usual armour equipped with additional protection from the winter evening including the aforementioned new cape which her younger brother had given her as a present. Outing or not, a knight had to remain prepared for anything. Whether it would be against monsters, immediate threats…or confessing to the love of her life.

“Great, then we’re all gearing to go.” Frey raised her fist into the air. “Onward to the observatory!”

“Hey, be careful or you’re going to trip!” Doug called out as his energetic spouse went on ahead. “Honestly, some things never change…”

“You seem rather excited yourself.” Forte commented with a half-smile on her face. “Not as enthusiastic as Frey but still.”

“Yeah, yeah yeah…So, you’re ready for this?” the dwarf gazed at the knight whose cheeks became flushed with pink not soon after. “I mean, you can do it any other time of the year but if you want to leave a lasting impression, it’s now or never.”

“Um, I know that!” Forte answered with a determined voice.

“What do you know exactly, Forte?” Meg curiously tapped her on the shoulders, resulting in a brief but alarmed shriek.

“M-MEG?! UHHH NOTHING!! WE WERE TALKING ABOUT ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! Just about how we should enjoy the Night of Holies b-because it only comes once a year. Yeah, it’s like that.”

“Well, best we get a move on. The snow might stop at any moment and I want to bask in this blissful scenery as much as possible. I saw Frey rush past your house already.” Meg stated while pointing to the western-most exit of the plaza.

“R-right…” Forte nodded as she followed Margaret down the steps leading to the town’s western residential district.

Doug was left alone in his thoughts for the time being. “Man, I know Frey wants to thank them for everything they’ve done for both of us but…this is something out of a romcom novel that Granny Blossom keeps inside her old shelves.”

Frey’s eccentrically named plan, “Operation Knight Song” had one and only one singular goal: successfully get Forte to ask Meg out. This wasn’t anything platonic or familial either.

Another piece of information that was common to most of the town’s inner circle was that Forte being madly in love for Selphia’s star musician, Margaret.

As a knight, romance or intimacy was not within her scope of immediate prioritization. Those never crossed her mind as much as it did for the other girls in town especially during their seasonal sleep over gatherings.

Yet Margaret came into Forte’s life and ever since then her existence alone did just about everything to question the knight’s supposed heterosexuality.

There are numerous reasons as to how the elven musician had stolen the knight’s heart but even then she couldn’t list all of them properly without breaking down into an awkward, stuttering and anxious mess. Meg was resourceful, hardworking, beautiful, compassionate, charismatic, somewhat of a dorky odd-ball, both shared some latent fear of phantoms (Pico was the prime exception) and Forte’s mental list could go on and on.

Forte was content simply just remaining close friends with the musician but as the months and years went by it became clear that she couldn’t deny her own feelings any further.

It started out with simpler things such as her regular compliments towards Meg becoming more frequent in nature. It was followed with other small instances such as their hands brushing against each other by accident on several occasions or noticing the aromatic scent of her hair on a more regular basis. Afterwards, it all escalated to much greater physical contact such as sitting awkwardly as Meg fell asleep next to her on the bench during one late afternoon after work.

It reached an apex when the musician casually kiss the knight on the cheek during her birthday. All Frey and Doug could recall was that Forte was reduced to a stuttering, flustered mess that same day.

A few weeks later, the knight confided with the royal couple that she could no longer deny the feelings she’s harboured for Meg and declared her resolved intention to confess.

Needless to say, Frey 100% supported the proposition alongside her husband, even if the latter wasn’t too enthusiastic about lowkey stalking their Night of Holies date in the guise of a group outing.

Doug sighed and hurried to catch up with the rest of the group. Even if he wanted to, it was too late to turn back now.

Within the top floor of the windmill observatory’s interior, Doug had finally caught up as his wife handed out the hot beverages and snacks she had prepared for them all prior to leaving.

“I brought along some hot cocoa and choco cookies.” Frey pulled out four heated thermos containers and a plate of chocolate chip-cookies from her picnic basket. “I have a few bottles of Prelude to Love in here too that I brewed up during these past few days if you’d like some later tonight Meg.”

“That would be lovely, thanks!” Meg cheerfully replied.

“Doug and I are gonna go head down now.” Frey announced suddenly, “Oops, you see…uhhh…turns out I forgot a few extra cloaks and blankets, incase for when it gets colder tonight…Y-yeah.”

“Wait, we just got up here!” Doug stuttered in an alarmed fashion. “Also, I brought us some blankets and cloaks in my bag…AGH.”

Frey interrupted her husband’s objections by playfully pinching him on his bottom. He played along as a result. “Uhhh, I mean yeah. I totally forgot them. H-haha, oops.”

“We’ll be right back in a jiffy, ok? I left the hot drinks and cookies near the benches next to the outer entry. Help yourselves!” Frey playfully declared as she and Doug descended down the stairs.

Forte sighed. She knew very well that the entire thing was a copout ruse to make sure she and Meg were alone. She appreciated the sentiment but wished as well that the couple didn’t have to sacrifice a part of their romantic evening to help her confess the feelings she’s held for so long towards the beautiful elven musician who stood nearby.

“Ahem. Ummm, mind if we step outside? I want to take a good look at view right now.” Forte somewhat nervously proposed.

“Hmm? Sure thing. The snowy evening view probably goes great with the hot cocoa.”

“So easily. What about your fear of heights, Meg?”

Meg giggled lightly and responded, “Why would I be worried about that? Especially when I have you by my side?”

Forte couldn’t help but melt internally and smile at the sentiment. She extended her arm out towards Meg, offering her hand. “Well then, shall we?”

“Wowwww!!” Meg gasped in delight. As they walked into the exterior viewing balcony of the observatory, the sight of a tranquil snowy evening glittered with the night sky’s stars awaited them both. “I’ve been to this observatory countless of times but the view’s always amazing…”

“And to think you were afraid of coming here, let alone of setting foot into the observatory’s top floor because of your fear of heights…” Forte teased slightly and continued. “…I’m glad you’re enjoying the view these days.”

“Uh huh…” Meg nodded enthusiastically while she opened up her drink. Taking a light sip, she sighed happily. “Ahhh, this is heaven. I’m not big of a chocolate lover as much as Dolce but this alongside he winter evening is pure utter bliss…”

“Indeed,” Forte agreed, taking small sips of her hot cocoa while her gaze was transfixed between both the view and at Meg herself. “This reminds me of my childhood…Our parents always used to make us hot cocoa on winter evenings. My mother was practically a master at the craft and it was one of the many things that warmed our father up after his snowy evening patrols…”

“Forte…”

“They’re both gone now. However, what isn’t are the memories they left behind for Kiel and I. For that reason…I want to keep living on, protecting those I hold dear and…well, continue to make even happier memories with the people I care for.” Forte uttered the last part out with a faint blush.

“Awwwww, that’s so sweet…” Margaret softly said, hugging the knight from the side. The surprise was almost enough to let her drop the hot cocoa she had been handling finely.

“EEEEEK!! M-meg…please.” Forte staggered, “I could have spilled something hot on either of us… be more careful…”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” she laughed gingerly, breaking the hug. “I really am happy though…to be here. Happy to be with you all…that’s all.”

“Hmmm? Is something the matter?”

“Well, just that…When I first came to Selphia, truth to be told: I was afraid. Porcoline had recently taken me under his wing at the time…I knew nobody in town. I wasn’t sure if I could open my heart up so easily. Especially somewhere so far away from home…Then I met you, Lumie, Venti, Dylas, Arthur, Frey and everyone…I fell in love with this town soon afterwards. It’s far from my birthplace but…Selphia’s my home. I wouldn’t have it any other way and…I’m just so thankful to be here with you all.”

“Meg…”

Meg sighed trying to shake away what was a bittersweet smile on her lips just moments ago, “…Sorry, I got over sentimental again. Winter evenings like this remind me of my homeland a bit, I couldn’t help it. Anyways, why don’t I play us a song?”

Now was the time, Forte realized.

“Uhhh Meg…look…I…there’s something I need to…uh, well…”

“Huh? You want me to play a Christmas song? Ok, I’ll think…Silent Night or Jingle Bells…I want to see how it works on my harp…”

“No, that’s not it, I wanted to say that…um…”

“Wait, neither of those songs? Well, I’ll just play us Joy to the World and…”

Forte bit her lip in frustration. Her thoughts raced insanely as her heartbeat rose sharply. “Forte, it’s now or never.”

“I got it! I’ll go play us Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, that was a classic my old teacher taught me…”

“Meg, please listen to me: I love you.”

“...Huh?”

As the knight uttered those very words from her lips, it’s almost as if time itself had stopped in its tracks that winter-clad evening. Meg’s expression went from that of her usually cheerful eccentric one to that of pure speechlessness.

“I don’t mean as a friend or as a sister. Meg…look, I love you as a woman. Romantically. You’re caring, knowledgable, talented, compassionate, empowering, warm and just pleasant to be around everyday. My chest has been racing as of lately just being next to you…I don’t know what else to say…”

“Forte…is this true?” Meg blinked while a tint of red began slowly surfacing from her own cheeks.

“Yes, it’s all true. I was scared prior to this…We’re both girls and I have no idea how your culture does it…hell, I’m not even sure how my parents would react if they could see this but I don’t care! As a knight of Ventuswill and all of Selphia, I’m not going to hold my feelings back in front of the woman I love, damn it!”

Once more, Forte was met with a silent and blank response from the musician. Fearing it amounted to nothing but a potential awkward rejection, she steeled herself for what was next. She walked into this knowing that heartbreak might be a viable outcome but she would rather have professed her feelings than hold her silence forever.

��I’m sorry…who was I kidding. Just pretend I said nothing, please…Regardless, I want us to remain friends and…”

“You idiot…” Meg gritted her teeth, glaring with tears in her eyes.

Forte wasn’t given much room to react as Meg tightly embraced her as if it would be their last.

“M-meg…?!”

“Honestly…you blockhead…” she sniffled, keeping her arms wrapped around the knight tightly. “Took you long enough…! I’m so happy…I’m so glad you feel the same way…”

“Feel the same way…y-you…you mean…?”

“Yes…but…I’m afraid too. Not because we’re both girls. I don’t care about that at all…it’s because I’m an elf. You’re human.”

“What if you are an elf? I care nothing about that. I know there are places in Norad that ostracize your people but I’m not…”

“It’s not that!” Meg cried out as she continued to cling onto Forte. She blinked through her tears and continued, “It’s much more complicated. You know that elves live longer than humans do. What if you go before me…? You’re a knight…You’ve already pledged your life to the sword. Your line of work makes it so that you’re ready for death at any given moment. If you die before me and I have to live out the remainder of my existence in this world without you…I…”

“Meg…” Forte whispered, “You’re not wrong. I’ve devoted my life to the path of the sword. The sword is nothing more than an extension to my real devotion: those who I care for. You included most of all. You’re right…maybe I could fall in battle or I might succumb to illness, who knows what the future has in store but…I’d rather face those dangers while protecting and loving you…”

“Forte…”

“I know we have to go slow of course…I-if you say yes, that is!” Forte stammered but regained her verbal composure right after. “Going moderately is the key but my feelings for you are genuine…Meg…I want to be your knight and dedicate my sword to you. B-by that…I want to be your girlfriend. W-well…?”

It wasn’t too long after that the musician’s anxious tears were immediately replaced with tearful giggles as she broke her embrace. “Honestly, do all knights have to confess like this? I don’t even want to know what the marriage proposal would be like…!”

“H-hey, I was being serious…”

“I know, Forte. I know very well…Therefore, my answer is: I accept!” Meg spoke out the last part with a cheerful grin as she wiped the last of her tears away.

“Huh?! Meg, are you sure about this?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Not going to lie: I’m still anxious…I have no idea what awaits us but…with my brave and dashing girlfriend by my side, I have nothing to fear.”

“Meg…ugh…I…” Forte attempted to choke back a sob as tears welled up her own eyes. She stepped forward and gave her beloved a firm embrace. She sobbed softly between sniffles and hiccups, “Ngh…I’m so happy…I was afraid that…ugh…Meg…I love you! I love you so much!”

Reciprocating the embrace, Meg giggled softly as she comforted the sobbing knight. “You big dork…I love you too…don’t panic. Even if I said no, I wasn’t going to leave you behind either…You’re precious to me no matter what…”

“Sorry…I shouldn’t have lost my composure like that. It was unknightly of me, so to speak.” Forte calmed down as Meg wiped her tears away.

“I dunno, I have absolutely no problems seeing this side of you either.” Meg playfully teased.

“Hey!! Ugh…you’ve always been unpredictable at times, you know that?”

“Maybe. Maybe not…I wanna do something else unpredictable, of course.”

Forte swallowed a lump as her heart raced once more. “Well, what would that be?”

Kiss.

Eyes still widened, Forte stared blankly as Meg’s lips parted from hers in a quick but blissful instant. “Merry Christmas Forte. I love you.”

“Ah.” Forte said aloud and continued. “Ah. Ah. Ahhhhh.”

Thud.

“Oh my gosh, Forte!!” Meg cried out in horror as she witnessed her newly confessed girlfriend dropping to her knees. She immediately knelt down herself cradled the flustered knight around her arms. “Are you okay?! Do you have a fever?! Are you tired?!”

Meg was all the more puzzled as she witnessed Forte’s unconscious but dreamy eyed and flustered expression. It was as if she had gone to heaven and ascended into a higher plane of goddesshood.

“Honestly…I need to get us both inside ASAP. Can’t have my girlfriend fainting outside here.”

Unbeknownst to either of them, the royal couple stood quietly in wait within the observatory’s interior in a floor below.

“Fufufufu…looks like Operation Knight Song was a grand success.” Frey sheepishly giggled. “Mission accomplished!”

“Uhhhhh…We did absolutely nothing besides eavesdrop.” Doug informed in a deadpan tone.

“C’mon, dear. We promised to be backup for Forte incase she froze up but looks like she didn’t need our help. That’s my Forte, haha…”

“Well, I’m happy for them both. That much I’ll say. I think we need to go up there before Forte freaks out any further.” Doug proposed but his intentions were interrupted by the mischievous princess holding up a mistletoe over both their heads.

“Oh hell no. Dear, please. Not now…w-wait until home at least!!” the fiery red-head dwarf took a step back, panicking.

“Awwwww, don’t be like that.” Frey licked her lips. “It’s almost midnight. Besides, I want to give Forte and Meg some time to themselves while I have my own little fun…”

Doug swallowed hard, laughing nervously. He had no intention of denying his playful wife’s advances but he braced himself for what came next. This of course consisted of Frey pouncing on her husband and showering him with cuddles and a flurry of kisses over his face and neck.

Overall, it was just another snowy, heated, chaotic but romantic Night of Holies in Selphia.

#rfss2018 #rune factory 4 #rf4 #rf4 frey #rf4 doug #rf4 margaret #rf4 forte #frey x doug #meg x forte #yuri #femslash #avenger concerto writing

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clarascuro · 6 years ago

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Clara Reads City of Bones Part 3: Hogwarts Institute for Witchcraft and Shadowhunting

The Plot Thus Far

When last we left off, our lovable cardboard cutout protagonist, Clary Fray, had been attacked by a demon called a Ravener and taken to a place called “The Institute”. After three days of recovery, she has an uncomfortable (for us) conversation with Isabelle Lightwood, where we learn that Isabelle is hot and that we, the audience, should hate her for that, and also that Jace Wayland lives with the Lightwood family because his parents are dead. We are meant to feel bad about this. We are meant to feel sorry for Jace, which is a bit of a tall order, considering that Jace Wayland is the worst person to ever smirk and shrug his way through a YA book. If I were trapped in an elevator with him I wouldn’t even wait five minutes to be rescued, I’d pry those doors open and just drop. Death is cruel but quality time with Jace Wayland is crueler.

So Clary leaves the hospital wing and goes down a long hallway, lead by the sound of someone playing a piano. Last time I said that it was Alec (Isabelle’s brother) who played piano, and that it was his only character trait, but nope!! It’s actually my favorite boy Jace, that sack of human refuse! So I guess Alec has no personality, actually. Anyway, they have some “witty” “banter”, and then Alec takes her to the library to talk to the head of the Institute, Hodge Starkweather, and, yeah. I think it’s time to talk about the Harry Potter stuff.

The Harry Potter Stuff

You know how E.L. James made minor changes to her crappy Twilight fanfic and then published it as 50 Shades of Gray? Well, as near as anyone can figure out, this is basically the same thing that Cassandra Clare did with her Harry Potter fanfic The Draco Trilogy. Just change the names, tweak the backstories ever so slightly, slap on a crappy cover and publish that sucker! It’s technically not plagiarism anymore! This is how you end up with stuff like "The Institute”, a secret school to teach young magic kids to control their powers, or Hodge Starkweather, elderly magic professor, who, one could argue, is a crackpot old fool teaching our protagonists magic tricks. (Gosh, how does Clare come up with this stuff?)

This obviously isn’t proof of any kind, but when the villain of your story is named “Valentine” and he’s an evil magic user who has been dead for sixteen years (the age of our secretly magic protagonist) and the main characters are afraid to even say his name...yeah, it doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where all of this comes from.

Now all this is frustrating, but it’s also hilarious. I mean, the big bad of the story is called Valentine. VALENTINE. And I actually laughed out loud for several minuted when I first read the name “Hodge Starkweather” to myself. I still get a little chuckle typing this. Oh, and since the word “muggle” would have JK Rowling’s lawyers on her ass faster than light, the word Cassandra Clare uses for non-magic people is...”Mundie”. It’s short for “mundane”. Like...first of all this is objectively hilarious. Second, mundane just means “normal”. If the Shadowhunter society is magical, then aren’t they they mundane ones? I know humans don’t have magic, but we still figured how to like, fly and stuff. That has to count for something. If I saw a dog that taught himself how to read, I wouldn’t like, make fun of him for not also being able to talk. I’d be like “Shit! That’s a pretty impressive fucking dog!” like what the fuck?

Anyway, this is all just a roundabout way to say that obviously this used to be a HP fic that through some twist of fate landed a publishing deal. And you know, it’s not as brain-meltingly bad as 50SoG, so who cares? Cassandra Clare’s just having fun, so who cares if her writing gets published?

Well...

The Plagiarism

So, yeah, she plagiarized lot. Like a lot. The Draco Trilogy has lines of dialogue taken directly from shows like Red Dwarf, Black Adder, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as well as from Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novels. Quoting shows apparently used to be pretty common in the early days of fanfiction, so there is context to consider here, but it gets worse. Cassandra Clare lifted almost a whole chapter, nearly word for word, from an out-of-print fantasy series called The Hidden Land, by Pamela Dean. On top of that, Clare was sued in 2016 by author Sherrilyn Kenyon, whose Darkhunter series predates Clares Shadowhunters series. (And for the record, Clare’s series was originally titled Darkhunters. Yikes.) You guys can read the full(ish) stories here and here.

I Guess I Have To Keep Talking About The Plot Now

Sigh. So after Hodge Starkweather (A+ naming there) tells them about Valentine, he explains that Shadowhunters are angel-human hybrids? Or something? They’re special, and they fight demons. Also faries, vampires, werewolves, all that stuff exists. We’re stuck with the Shadowhunters, however, because God has punished me for my hubris, and my work is never done. (Oh look, I just plagiarized Brian David Gibert. I’m a real author now, like Cassandra Clare!) The Shadowhunters were started thousands of years ago by a man named, I shit you not, Jonathan Shadowhunter. JONATHAN. FUCKING. SHADOWHUNTER. Why the fuck am I trying to come up with clever names for my characters? I should just name them all “Alex Clarasbook” and call it a fucking day. Fuck.

Anyway after a thrilling conversation with Alec-Who-Has-No-Personality, we find out that he does have a personality! His personality is that he hates humans. Oh, excuse me, “mundies.” Yep, that’s the best way to make a character relatable. Just make ‘em fucking racist. It’s okay though, it’s only magical racism so it evens out. Have I mentioned that this story has no poc?

(Oh also Clary’s mom was a Shadowhunter, but 1. I hate Clary and 2. literally a newborn baby could’ve figured that out, so)

Clary and Jace leave the Institute to go back to Clary’s house, and Clary slaps Jace, an act that brings me such joy that only the birth of my firstborn child will ever eclipse it, and even then, it will be it close tie. The moment is quickly over, however, as Clary immediately feels bad about it, because again, she is not a character. She’s a Walmart mannequin created for Jace to make out with. Then she sees two girls looking at Jace, and, in what can only be called the true essence of the book, “Clary turned instant traitor against her gender.” Just as a reminder, Clary sucks.

Anyway they get to her house, kill a giant, talk to a witch, yaddah yaddah yaddah. Basically nothing happens except the inevitable unraveling of my mental processes. I had to stop reading there because I have better things to do with my life besides destroying the few braincells I have left. I’ll post the next part soon, as soon as I can read more than five pages without wanting to fling the book off a seaside cliff into the frothing mist that obscures the swell and crash of the unforgiving waves. Until then, please enjoy some of my favorite bad lines.

Selected Passages (And Commentary)

“Jace chuckled. Clary could tell that he had come up behind her and was standing there with his hands in his pockets, grinning that infuriating grin of his.” (She knew all that without looking?)

“Attacked. Clary wondered if this was a euphemism for ‘murdered’.” (Clary you’re literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met.)

“Clary let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.” (This may just be me being petty, but I hate this cliche so much.)

“‘You may be the only guy my age I’ve ever met who knows what bergamot is, much less that it’s in Earl Grey tea.” (Ah yes, that famous stereotype, that boys don’t know about tea. Oh, you like tea? Name three kinds. I hear sexist gatekeeping is a real problem in the tea community. I am not having a good time.)

“Dorothea chuckled. ‘It’s good to see a young woman eat her fill. In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays.’ ‘Thanks,’ Clary said. She thought of Isabelle’s tiny waist and felt suddenly gigantic.” (Cassandra Clare’s super feminist, guys. You can tell because she’s always pitting her female characters against each other.)

Rating So Far

3/10-Bad. Jonathan Shadowhunter gets an entire 10/10. I’m going to have my name legally changed to Jonathan Shadowhunter.

#Clara Reads City of Bones #city of bones #shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #come at me i wanna fight

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news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog · 6 years ago

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Femme birds, butch owls, and lesbian frogs: Meet the queer animals of Instagram

In 2008, a gay penguin couple went viral for the best of reasons: They stole an egg from a straight couple in order to become parents, then replaced the missing egg with a rock. Genius.

It's rare to see queerness represented in the animal world — if you can even call it queerness, given that these are, in fact, animals who don't have human sexualities. Still, that hasn't stopped the LGBTQ community from anthropomorphizing them wherever they can.

To anthropomorphize is to be human. Who doesn't want to see a lesbian earth mother frog dispensing self-care advice? Or a high femme owl warding off a heteronormative holiday with her deadly, femme fatale stare? Tell me the last time you saw a masculine-of-center bird represented in media. How many serial monogamist flamingos do you know in your personal life?

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▼ 2019 people! We need to take it easy!!!! As in just let it come. Take it with the utmost gentleness. Take my pose and repeat after me: “I am ready for any challenge and I will keep my peace and relax my body when needed. I ROCK even when I sit still! 🙏🏾 “ And then you can say HELL YEAH or Namaste or amen or whatever but SAY IT!!!! Ps don’t forget that it is EXTREMELY important to scream once in a while. LET IT OUT!!! But ALWAYS go back to this relaxed pose I am showing you here. You can even print it out and hang me on your wall! Try it! You will not regret it. Yours truly. Lesbian Frog forever. ▼ #lesbian #animal #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqi #lesbianculture #lesbianfun #animals #animalsco #animalsofinstagram #queer #animallover #animales #lesbians #lesbienne #lesbiana #dyke #frog #2019 photo by @yan_hidayat_567 special thnxz to @heavenandhella @amysedaris 🙏🏾💘

A post shared by Lesbian ▼ Animals (@lesbian_animals) on Jan 7, 2019 at 3:02pm PST

These moments are few. But thanks to Instagram, "queer" and queer-adjacent animal representation is starting to spike.

SEE ALSO: Zodiac shaming is a real thing. Don't do it.

Welcome to 2019, where "queer" animals are able to build large Instagram followings. To be clear: None of the queer-animal-centered Instagram accounts claim to fully know the sexuality of the animals they depict. The "lesbian warthog" from Instagram account @lesbian_animals could very well be a pansexual warthog. Or maybe she just experimented with female warthogs in college after seeing a particularly dapper drag king warthog at the local warthog cabaret.

Or maybe she's just a warthog and therefore has no idea what any of these humans posting about her are talking about.

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▼ Tiny Lesbian warthog cooling down in a tiny mud puddle ▼ #lesbian #animal #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqi #lesbianculture #lesbianfun #animals #animalsco #animalsofinstagram #queer #animallover #animales #lesbians #lesbienne #lesbiana #dyke #warthog

A post shared by Lesbian ▼ Animals (@lesbian_animals) on Jun 12, 2017 at 4:41pm PDT

So while queer Instagram animals might not have a sexuality in the same way humans have a sexuality, there's something about them visually that feels so deeply, constitutionally queer. Queer people can see themselves in them.

As strange as that is, it matters.

The inherent queerness of birds

Take a look at @femmebirds, an Instagram account dedicated to the bird femme community. Created by Meaghan O'Malley of Butches and Babies and Katie Horowitz, the account celebrates the femmeness at the heart of bird identity:

"Birds just don't give a fuck, which I think is inherently femme," O'Malley told Mashable in a phone interview. "They're also very sensitive and hollow-boned."

O'Malley started the account after discovering @butchbirds on Instagram, an account dedicated to the severely underrepresented butch bird community. Both accounts share photos of birds that are aesthetically queer.

Worship the raw masc power of Bryce, a newly appointed young butch owl. Bryce is the Shane of the queer owl community. He fucks.

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A submission from @thepaylestqweeyah, for your viewing pleasure we bring you Bryce, a newly minted baby butch. Very eager to sweep you off your feet. #woulddate #alsotherewillprobablybemessypoly #babybirdbutch

A post shared by Butch (@butchbirds) on Dec 30, 2018 at 12:52pm PST

Next, open your heart to these queer pastel parrotlets processing critical attachment theory:

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A good wingfemme knows when to pull you into her fluffy, feathery bosom to tell you how magical and important you are when things are feeling rough. A good wingfemme also probably takes advantage of the convenient proximity of your ear to her beak and whispers a reminder to read that book about attachment she mentioned to you a year ago. AHEM.⁣ ⁣ #wingfemmewednesday [femme birds: pastel parrotlets] #femmebirds | photo credit: @freyaeverafter_ |

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Feb 6, 2019 at 5:19am PST

But these accounts do more than just share photos of animals. Both @femmebirds and @butchbirds draw from queer tropes to generate meaningful conversation.

For O'Malley, @femmebirds allows her to discuss queerness in a way that feels lighthearted and slightly removed. It can be challenging and painful to discuss LGBTQ issues in more traditional contexts. Who really wants to explore the nuances of gender performance in a Twitter thread?

When queer identity is re-imagined in bird form, the conversation feels lighter, more manageable. It's easier to discuss femme visibility among parrots (who are inherently absurd) than among humans:

"I am not really an animal person, but I love birds and their anthropomorphic personalities ... and I think it's a little bit easier with animals to connect with what you're feeling and experiencing," O'Malley said. "Femme birds are specifically adaptable in that way. The vast majority of birds we post are assigned male at birth. Male birds tend to be the most femme in nature. Some people have been curious about why we use male birds. But that has everything to do with our perception of femme identity."

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A good ol’ fashioned #wingfemmewednesday intervention is in order when your bestie suggests getting back together with her toxic ex for the fourth time. ⁣ ⁣ We can acknowledge our fear of scarcity and then do everything we can to believe in abundance. Toxicity isn’t love, boobirds! ⁣ ⁣ [femme birds: eastern bluebirds] #femmebirds

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Feb 20, 2019 at 8:45am PST

O'Malley is able to facilitate a conversation about the meaning of femme identity — who it belongs to, and why we associate it with just one sex — without it becoming a contentious internet forum.

These are birds, for God's sake.

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Femmes: there is no such thing as more femme or less femme, better femme or worse femme, good femme or bad femme, real femme or imposter femme.⁣ ⁣ Femme is femme is femme. ⁣ ⁣ You are pure, real, and beautiful in your femmeness, however it manifests, no matter your gender. Identity policing is *NOT* for the femmebirds. [femme bird: dwarf kingfisher from SE Asia] #femmebirds

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Feb 9, 2019 at 10:57am PST

Language is key to understanding these accounts. @Femmebirds routinely repurposes vocabulary from queer culture, such as bottoming or lesbian processing, to discuss bird behavior. In doing so, O'Malley is able to have a conversation about femme visibility and even poke fun at some of the more rigid conventions through a careful curation of words.

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WE STAN FOR THE POWER BOTTOM ⁣ [femme birds: common kestrel] #femmebird4femmebird #femmebirds

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Feb 15, 2019 at 8:37am PST

Look at this queer femmebird trying to process her emotions with her cis boyfriend:

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Queer femmebird trying to do some deep lesbian processing with her boyfriend, who has very clearly never been a lesbian. #panbirdproblems [femme bird: red-legged honeycreeper] #femmebirds

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Jan 26, 2019 at 1:33pm PST

This femmebird walks her runway like a goddamn professional: She's "steadfastly true to herself, her values, and her fabulous shoulder-padded/glittery pantsuited/silky bowtied aesthetic."⁣

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This week's Femmebird Icon is none other than Dorothy Zbornack, the tallest, fiercest, sharpest-tongued Golden Girl. Dorothy was known for her [...occasionally problematic...] ability to quickly read the room, and you, for filth. When forced to explain or justify her gender and/or sexuality, she remained steadfastly true to herself, her values, and her fabulous shoulder-padded/glittery pantsuited/silky bowtied aesthetic. ⁣ ⁣ While not the tallest bird of prey, the secretarybird reminds us so much of Dorothy that we felt this comparison needed to happen. Like Dorothy and her suffer no fools approach to Stan's hijinks/Blanche’s delusions/Rose’s non sequiturs/Sophia’s trickery, secretarybirds quietly and carefully stalk their prey and then skillfully and aggressively, well, uh, stomp them to death. Thank you for being a friendbird, Dorothy.⁣ ⁣ NB: These pairings are our best bird testaments to these icons and their energy/aesthetics. These femmebird icons are people who have contributed to the expression and identity of femme, in many cases to our intersecting movements, and generally to our conceptions and expressions of justice and/or style. Finally, these Femmebird Icons include folx who are real and fictional AND folx of all gender identities and expressions who may or may not identify as femme, but who have inspired us nonetheless.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ [femme bird: secretarybird] #femmebirds #femmebirdicons

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Jan 28, 2019 at 4:17pm PST

Human lesbians may struggle with scissoring. Great crested grebes sure do:

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Giving you hot scissoring technique this #femmebird4femmebird Friday. #✂️🐥🐥✂️⁣ ⁣ [femme bird: great crested grebe]⁣ #femmebirds

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Jan 25, 2019 at 7:42am PST

These femmebirds are absolutely crushing the cis-heteropatriarchy:

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Femmebirds, 1. Cisheteropatriarchy, 0. [femme bird: house sparrow] #femmebirds

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Jan 17, 2019 at 6:55am PST

Let's be clear: @femmebirds and @butchbirds are, at their hearts, extremely funny accounts. Yes, they inspire thoughtful comment threads about gender performance and identity. They're also weird as hell, in wonderful, tender ways that remind me of the pre-bad internet era.

Forget everything you learned about Judith Butler and Michel Foucault and just soak up the comedy of this sex talk between parakeet lesbians.

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Explaining to your newly-out wingfemme the finer points of good ol’ fashioned lez luvin’. [femme bird: Indian ringneck parakeet] #femmebirds #wingfemmewednesday

A post shared by Femme Birds (@femmebirds) on Jan 23, 2019 at 6:08pm PST

I will always hate birds. But I am deeply thankful for Instagram's queer bird community for giving this highly marginalized group some representation in media.

Lesbian guinea pigs, gay lions, and closeted cats

There are plenty of animals in the kingdom who possess big dyke energy.

Instagram account @lesbian_animals, which has been around since 2016, identifies the non-avian queer members of the animal kingdom. They're less visible than out and proud pigeons. But that doesn't mean they're not worth paying attention to.

Consider, for example, the queer guinea pig community. Without this account, we wouldn't even know they existed.

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▼ Lesbian parenting ▼ #lesbian #animal #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqi #lesbianculture #lesbianfun #animals #animalsco #animalsofinstagram #queer #animallover #animales #lesbians #guineapig

A post shared by Lesbian ▼ Animals (@lesbian_animals) on Oct 8, 2016 at 4:00pm PDT

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▼ Lesbian Guinea Pig (by EmmasBears on Etsy)▼ #lesbian #animal #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqi #lesbianculture #lesbianfun #animals #animalsco #animalsofinstagram #queer #animallover #animales #lesbians #lesbienne #lesbiana #dyke #happypride

A post shared by Lesbian ▼ Animals (@lesbian_animals) on Aug 1, 2017 at 11:36pm PDT

Possums really broke into the viral spotlight last year. But — with all those memes and all those tweets — did you ever once hear about the vibrant LGBTQ possum scene?

Probably not. Shout out to @lesbian_animals for bringing this marginalized demographic to the forefront.

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▼ Lesbian parenting ▼ #lesbian #animal #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqi #lesbianculture #lesbianfun #animals #animalsco #animalsofinstagram #queer #animallover #animales #lesbians #lesbienne #lesbiana #dyke #mammapossum

A post shared by Lesbian ▼ Animals (@lesbian_animals) on Jun 6, 2017 at 2:24pm PDT

When was the last time you learned about queer chosen families in the animal world? Look at how these queer koalas have forged community in spite of oppression:

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▼ Lesbian Koala's Love to cuddle in groups. "Our favorite movie is Trolls!! We watch it together at least twice a month and then we cuddle and dance and eat rainbow popcorn!!!" ▼ #lesbian #animal #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqi #lesbianculture #lesbianfun #animals #animalsco #animalsofinstagram #queer #animallover #animales #lesbians #lesbienne #lesbiana #dyke #koala

A post shared by Lesbian ▼ Animals (@lesbian_animals) on Mar 30, 2017 at 6:57am PDT

Accounts like @lesbian_animals are more than just collections of queer koala friends. They meet a psychological need, highlighting "queerness" in the world around us, even if that queerness is absurdist projection.

Just like everyone else, queer people want to see themselves on television, in movies, in government, and sometimes even boning in the wild.

So forgive me if I take deep satisfaction in this lesbian otter tape dispenser. As a queer person, I am sick and tired of seeing only cis heteronormative seal tape dispensers.

Finally, I feel seen: by animals, and by the people creating these accounts.

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▼ Lesbian Tape Dispenser ▼ #lesbian #animal #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqi #lesbianculture #lesbianfun #animals #animalsco #animalsofinstagram #queer #animallover #animales #lesbians #tape

A post shared by Lesbian ▼ Animals (@lesbian_animals) on Dec 16, 2016 at 4:55pm PST

It's more than just queer animal tape dispenser representation

For all the joy it brings me to see a genderqueer rockabilly owl, queer animal representation isn't ultimately about the animals. It's more than that. As O'Malley describes it, it's about the people behind the accounts and the people engaging with these accounts connecting with each other.

When you like a photo of two lesbian dogs in matching knit hats, you're not identifying with the dogs. You're sharing a moment with the account's creator, who knows what knit hats signify in the lesbian community and can laugh about it with you.

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▼ Lesbian couple ▼ #lesbian #animal #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqi #lesbianculture #lesbianfun #animals #animalsco #animalsofinstagram #animallover #animales #lesbians #deers

A post shared by Lesbian ▼ Animals (@lesbian_animals) on Jun 18, 2016 at 3:07pm PDT

As much as you think you're connecting with animals, you're actually connecting with people.

Here's how O'Malley describes the human affect behind her femme bird account:

"Femme identity has always been something I tentatively danced around. I didn’t fully embrace it until about a decade ago. It's been challenging because there's so much gatekeeping around it. I was really unsure if I would be able to create femme-centric content ... [but] posts that tend to resonate the most are dramatized versions of my own experience. Posts that say: 'I am femme but I don't feel like I'm good at it' tend to get the most affirming feedback. It makes me feel like less of an outsider femme. I have not been able to connect to other femmes as a human but I have through my bird language."

Let me use my bird language to connect to the kind readers who've made it to the end of this story.

We see you all: the masc owls, the drag queen parrots, and even the heteroflexible parakeets. These Instagram skies are open. There's a home for you all, my fellow queer birds, even if it's just on a platform.

WATCH: New study says honeybees can do basic math

#_author:Heather Dockray #_category:yct:001000002 #_lmsid:a0Vd000000DTrEpEAL #_uuid:5476854b-9b1f-3b3a-9152-b562b376cb45 #_revsp:news.mashable

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briseis-lavellan · 8 years ago

Text

Life and Home

Something I wrote for Ao3 as a gift for Songofpsalms297.

Cassandra believes that there is nothing more beautiful than having people to come home to. (AU)

It was a long flight after a long business trip away from home. Cassandra was happy to be walking up the familiar driveway that led to the very familiar house. The occupants must have heard the sound of her luggage bag’s wheels rolling against the pavement, because the door quickly opened and a reddish blonde blur came flying towards her. “Mama’s home!” said the little girl as Cassandra quickly scooped her into her arms and held her tightly. Laying a kiss on top of her daughter’s head, she glanced up and noticed her husband leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed and lazy grin on his face. “I have missed you terribly, my darling.” she said as she focused her attention back on the girl. The child was six years old and took after her father in many ways, but her features were very similar to her mother’s. She clung tightly to her mother as if the woman would disappear otherwise. Cassandra’s heart broke every time, knowing that her work often had such an impact on her family. “We missed you too.” Varric said as he walked up to his wife and daughter. Cassandra smiled and leaned down to give her husband a brief but warm kiss on his lips. “Eww, gross!” said the little girl, who buried her head into her mother’s shoulder to hide from the sight of her parents kissing. “It’s not so bad, Antonia. A fact that you won’t be discovering until you are in your 30’s.” Varric said, his eyes still on his wife. Cassandra loved her job and the many opportunities she had to help her country as one of the top two presidential advisors. She had a good rapport with President Dorothea, who was willing to heed the advice of her advisors and council members. As a result, the country flourished under her leadership and Cassandra was happy to be one of the hands helping it along. But the job also came with a steep price, which involved her missing time with her family. Trying to balance her career with raising a child was not as easy as she had hoped it would be. Varric was very understanding of the importance of her work, but that did not mean that it was not a source of contention between the two. There had been many arguments, her on the unfairness of the bond he shared with their daughter and him on the fact that she had missed out on several important milestones (first word, first steps, first day of school, etc). Despite the fighting and the hurtful words that get thrown about, they manage to work through it. She even dared to say it made them stronger. The mind-blowing reunion sex wasn’t so bad either. Varric took her luggage as they went inside the house and Cassandra paused in the doorway and taking in the familiar smells and surroundings. She was extremely glad to be home, to be with her little family and not stuffy politicians. She had missed the sweet laughter of her daughter, the warm embrace of her husband, and happiness that she could only feel when she was with them.

They were now sitting on the plush red sofa, listening to Antonia regale her mother with tales of her little adventures at school with her friends, and the fun things she got to do with Auntie Hawke and Uncle Broody. There were some misadventures with Auntie Rivaini, but Varric quickly headed off any outraged protests by explaining the full context of the situation. The look she gave him was dubious, but she let it go… for now. It wasn’t until after proudly showing off a beautifully carved halla that was made by Auntie Lavellan that the little girl started yawning. It had gotten late and it was well past her bedtime. Varric allowed Cassandra the task of tucking their daughter in while watching both of them affectionately. He would later tell her that he loved the domesticity she exuded while reading to the little being that they both created in love. How having her home had completed them. Seven years ago, if someone dared to suggest that she even seemed domestic, she would have protested. Now she didn’t mind, not if it meant having people who loved her and waited for her.

Once Antonia drifted off to dreamland (the ability to dream inherited from her human half), the couple quietly slipped to their bedroom where Varric could finally give his wife the welcome home he had been waiting to give her all day. He was in the middle of kissing her senseless when the loud and obnoxious, to him anyway, sound of her ringtone interrupted them. The dwarven author knew that he could just continue and she would eventually forget that she even owned a phone, but he saw the anxiousness in her eyes and knew that it was better to just let her answer it. Of course, it was work, and since the political climate has been rather stormy lately, Cassandra would want to answer in the case of bad news. He situated himself on the side of their bed while Cassandra dug her phone out of the pocket of the pants that they discarded on the floor. “Leliana, what is it?” She demanded, sexual frustration making her tone sharp. He could hear a faint voice coming from the phone though he couldn’t make out the words, his wife’s eyes narrowed as she listened to whatever it was Leliana was saying to her. “I don’t think that’s… No, I just… What do you mean that’s an order?” the voice continued on and Cassandra sighed in resignation. Varric could feel himself becoming angry. Usually when she sighed liked that after speaking to Leliana or one of Dorothea’s many assistants, it meant she was packed up to leave the next day. “I guess I have no choice but to accept… Yes, thank you Leliana. We will talk later.” Cassandra ended the call and looked up to notice that Varric was not looking pleased. “I take it that you will have to pack soon.” It wasn’t a question. “Yes.” “You just got home.” “Leliana said that Dorothea ordered me…” “Haven’t you done enough for awhile? Have you not sacrificed enough for them?” “Varric…” she began but he interrupted. “There has to come a time when you say enough, Cassandra.” Cassandra, not Seeker, her old title that became an endearment. He was not happy. “Varric…” “No! I know that you detest ultimatums but at some point, you will have to choose between your family and your… “ He was interrupted as she pressed her lips against his mouth. Her dwarven husband struggled against the wonderful sensation of having her mouth against his before he finally gave in, both of them opening their lips to allow their tongues to dance, re-stoking the fires that were doused so rudely moments ago. She finally ended the kiss, though reluctantly and looked him in the eyes. “Stop talking for a moment, dwarf, and I will tell you what she had said.” He was still recovering from the kiss, so all he could do was nod. “Leliana said that the president recognizes all of my hard work during this whole referendum business and felt that I could use a long well-deserved, break.” She kept her eyes on his face, trying to gauge his reaction, which took awhile but a smile crept until he was grinning. “That’s great! Did they say how long?” He set his hands around her waist, slowly running his fingers up and down her side. “For about two weeks before I have to fly out to Orlais to attend the conference, but that will only be for two days and I will return and can work here from Kirkwall for the foreseeable future.” “That is really something, why all of this though? Surely there’s more to it than the recognition of your hard work.” “It probably has to do with the fact that excessive travel, especially by plane, would not be beneficial for my health in the next few months or so.” Varric looked at her, confusion and worry on his face. “Your health? What’s wrong with your health?” She smiled and shook her head. “Nothing is wrong, my love, I’m only pregnant.” It seemed to take a moment before it sank in. Shocked, he took her hand while staring at her abdomen dumbly. “Pregnant...are you sure?” He asked cautiously. In the last four years, Cassandra had suffered the loss of two pregnancies. She didn’t know she was even pregnant for either, but the loss was still felt keenly by the both of them. They worried that they would never again experience the joy of watching a child they made together with their love growing within his Seeker. He was afraid to hope that it was even real. It had been another source of contention between them about her work. He blamed the stress caused by the toxic political climate at the time. But they had long moved beyond that fight, mending their hearts over the losses.

“Yes, my love.” She answered, understanding his wariness.

“We are having another one?” “Yes, Varric, we are.” An ecstatic grin finally broke out on his face before laughing and grabbing his wife by the hands to do a quick happy spin around the room. “Another!” he whooped as he stopped. He looked at her, happiness and maybe tears in his eyes. “How long?” his hand covered her abdomen, which had a barely detectable curve now that he knew to look for it. “I am about eleven weeks along, though I have only found out about three weeks ago. I wanted to tell you immediately, but it did not seem right to relay such news over the phone. I also wanted to make sure that… I kept this one. The doctor says everything is going splendidly so far and that there is a bigger chance of me carrying to term since I am further along than with the last two. It is why Dorothea and Leliana are ‘recognizing’ my hard work. They are ecstatic for us.” “I owe them a huge apology for acting like an ass.” He said, reaching up to kiss his wife. The kiss began as a sweet and loving kiss, but it would soon evolve to something more passionate. Husband and wife celebrated with the most intimate dance that can only be shared between lovers. It was a celebration of life. The life of their daughter, sleeping safely in her bed and the life that dwelled within Cassandra, waiting to make his or her appearance in the world. Most of all, it was a celebration of home.

#dragon age #dragon age inquistion #Cassandra Pentaghast #Varric Tethras #Fanfiction #AU #Antonia Tethras #KidFic #Reference to pregnancy loss #Very domestic #This ship is running away with me and I don't know if I want to be saved #Cassarric #Tethraghast #CassandraxVarric #VarricxCassandra

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