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vvatchword · 5 months ago

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Reading BioShock: Rapture (Part 6: Frank Fontaine: Funny He-He Clown Man)

<- Part 5: Three Old Men Jerking Their Milk Sticks || Back to the Beginning || Part 7: Shadow Eve ->

By Chapter 2, Shirley finally introduces a few antagonists—Fontaine, as well as G-men doing the world’s worst surveillance.

If you’re hoping for tension,

stop.

hope is a lie and this book is its grave

I Would Like to Feel Anything Please

This chapter opens on Sullivan trying to shake a G-man and failing. Apparently it doesn’t matter because he goes ahead and meets with a character called Ruben Greavy, head engineer for the Wales brothers. I’m assuming that Greavy was originally the city designer before Wales & Wales had to be worked in.

I was most interested in the G-man because I keep looking for antagonists. Ryan has a goal, right? In literally any story anywhere, there would be obstacles the protag has to overcome. One might reasonably conclude that government institutions are Andrew Ryan’s greatest foes. They have the power to stop him through legislation and force: it doesn’t matter how much money you have if your enemy can mobilize the fucking Army.

Who else has the power to stop Ryan? Probably other industry tycoons. In Ayn Rand’s fiction, company presidents commonly ally with each other and the government to stymie the goals of her Ubermensch.

Although present, Fontaine is a small-time crook and motivated in other directions and is thus a non-issue.

As it turns out, I shouldn’t have been excited to see the G-men. After info-dumping a thousand things we either already know or could read in more interesting ways, Sullivan says this:

“Maybe they’ll get a warrant after all. I don’t think they’d find anything illegal.”

So you’re saying there’s no threat.

We are in Chapter 2, on page thirty-fucking-nine, and THERE ARE STILL NO STAKES.

But Preferably Not Indignation

At this point, it’s not about not knowing who Ryan’s enemies are. Functionally, I don’t think they exist. While Shirley invokes entire government institutions, like the FBI or IRS, they literally have nothing to do and no reason to be there.

Moreover, the Olympian—Ryan’s yacht—is namedropped. Which is when I realized that it was being used as a cargo ship.

Wait a fucking minute.

Look, I don’t know shit about boats, but can you really use a yacht like that? Like to ship big ol city parts? Why would you do that? I mean there’s a certain poetic quality in, say, stripping the guts out of your pleasure yacht to bend it to base labor, but we all know Shirley didn’t think that far.

(grumbles to self. angrily notates “research midcentury yacht models and cargo ships”)

Salty — Today at 10:22 AM No, yachts can’t be used like that watchword — Today at 10:23 AM "I found this out in 1 minute Shirley" thank you I figured the design mattered Salty — Today at 10:23 AM It does You’d need some kind of crane to lower things into the water and there’s no way a yacht could take that shit without being built not like a yacht

So it turns out that Andrew Ryan has sent his chief of security personally down to the docks to confirm the time it leaves like he’s some kind of little messenger drone. Somewhere in the proceeding info-dump, Sullivan tells Greavy to leave with all of the building supplies in his ship as soon as possible in case the G-men want to raid them, even though there’s nothing illegal going on. Their reasoning is that they don’t want the US government to learn even a scrap of information about what they’re doing.

Or what? What would they fucking do? There are no laws about shipping out giant city parts. I suppose it could be framed as Ryan being paranoid, but Shirley always explains what characters are doing to the nth degree, and there’s no such explanation here.

Also, and I don’t know why this isn’t being used: the world was fucking flattened after World War II. Shipping building supplies makes a lot of fucking sense. Just tell the gubmint that you’re selling them to France or something. “Aw, yeah, Uncle Sam. You know how much the French like glass tubes. Gonna put all the filthy tourists in there like hamsters so they don’t touch anything. When you get troublemakers you just close the bulkheads and fill them with water.”

Besides, all you have to do is tell the gubmint what you’re shipping off with. It’s for records to be checked against the port that receives the shipment to make sure there’s no funny business. What I don’t remember is if you have to declare what port you’re going to—I suspect that would be the case—but I mean. LIE? This is your life’s work. LIE.

Finally, New York is one of the busiest and biggest ports in the nation. Why would anyone be looking that closely at one more cargo ship? Paperwork back then was even more annoying and difficult to grok than it is today. Imagine the volume for a port like New York’s.

Just fucking LIE.

The real point of this scene is so there can be an exposition dump. Shirley couldn’t just send a messenger who didn’t know what was going on—he needed two people who were In the Know. The important part isn’t entertainment, it’s information: unnecessary and uninteresting exposition about Rapture’s political and economic goals, why they’re shipping supplies the way they are, and the US government, all despite the characters involved being intimately knowledgeable of the situation. Also, they’re about 75% through with the entire escapade, so if this conversation ever occurred at all, you’d think it would be months in the past. The G-man is an attempt at escalation, but then Shirley immediately de-escalates by saying he’s powerless.

So, just to reiterate:

Sullivan tries to shake a tail, fails, and doesn’t care because it doesn’t matter. He shows up at a ship containing building materials for Rapture, meets Greavy, and they lecture each other back and forth about subjects they should already know to summarize a bunch of events we should have seen. As an afterthought, Sullivan tells Greavy he showed up in person to confirm the time the ship leaves instead of calling because the phones are probably tapped. Sullivan will leave before the ship leaves so he won’t actually know the time to confirm with his boss. This particular ship is one of multiple ships and represents only one of multiple shipments—there’s nothing remarkably special about it. They’re not in any danger in any way and there’s nothing the USA can do legally to stop them. End scene.

How the hell is anything this bad.

How.

There should really be like twenty chapters for every one of BioShock: Rapture’s, each explaining how we got here. Because instead of sharing the exciting cat-and-mouse shit, Shirley writes about the outcomes where everything is settled.

This is how our reflections write in the mirror universe.

I have read fanfiction by fans of every age and fluency level and ability. Most of it was trash, but it could be excused because they were young or new or amateur writers, and even then, they’re often excited about a concept and trying really hard and might have some neat thoughts to share.

This… this is on a whole different level.

Writing Is Hard (and Caring Is Harder)

The reason for this is, of course, that Shirley would have had to research several different subjects to write about them in any depth, and time was of the essence. In fact, I am now 100% convinced that everything here is done in a mad effort to save effort, which sounds as delightful as it is.

The elements he thinks to research are absurd. I am now sure that he doesn’t know how to rank research subjects by importance. He does not research, say, the histories of the IRS or the FBI or corporate espionage. No, he researches “how to install a toilet” and “historical boxing.” He’s most often focused on physical processes or what things look like—not on what people do or why they do them.

I have a new bet for you: that each chapter will be like a little push-pin in a plot point. None of them will be married meaningfully to any of the other plot points. They will be little islands in time and rely on the reader to insert connective tissue. This will essentially be a disjointed short story collection, except without any tension whatsoever, because they’re just summaries of larger stories that we never see.

Shrug

Let’s contrast this burning sludge puddle with a different burning sludge puddle: Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. This is a fitting contrast as Rapture is a callback to Galt’s Gulch.

The protagonist, Dagny Taggart, discovers Galt’s Gulch (libertarian paradise and Aryan summer camp) in Part 3, roughly 60% through the book. In my paperback, Part 3 begins on page 643, and the story ends on page 1,069 (nice). The font is like 6 points. I can’t stress enough how dense this book is.

Rand spends ungodly amounts of time and detail lingering on her enemies—politicians and company presidents and whiny family members. She waxes eloquent on the destructive side of selflessness. Over the course of an eternity, she displays in slow, evolving detail how that world fucks her characters over, despite all their best efforts. And oh—they struggle. They fight!

When Dagny ends up in Galt’s Gulch, staring straight into the face of Objectivist Jesus, she has been through hell, and it feels like a relief: like she’s finally free.

Galt’s Gulch was not a given—it was a process.

Rapture deserves the same build-up. The build-up is the story, you understand?

BioShock: Rapture is like a romance novel that skips all its character building and sex sequences to leap straight into post-coital snuggling. It’s not half as interesting or meaningful if you don’t include all of the pining and rage and frustration and explicit dicking.

Funny He-He Clown Man

Oh, Frank Fontaine. They done did u dirty.

Hey, hypothetical reader, I’m gonna ask you something: what do you think when you hear "Frank Fontaine"? Do you think of a funny little clown man who changes into costumes every ten seconds like a malicious Bugs Bunny? Because that’s what we have here. And, like everything else in this shapeless abortion, I hate it.

Generally, when I write a character who’s not my own, I say: “What is most interesting about this guy?” And I go for some neat character trait or behaviorism and then expand. Everything about that person fractals off of their base personality, psychology, behaviorisms, internal worlds, and past experiences.

Of course, that character doesn’t exist in a vacuum, so you know what else I do? I look at how they’re utilized in the source material, I ask what exactly the source material is, and I examine what the story was originally trying to do.

Characters Are Limited

Since the Beginning of Time, it has been popular in fandoms to act performatively enraged about how each and every character in a piece of media is not fully-fleshed out and explored to the last quark of the final atom.

First, that’s not how narratives work. Stories have to be limited by their natures: we are limited to this time, this space, this person, these concerns, these events. Material can only stretch so far, and characters can only intersect so long. It’s impossible to touch on every single concern and detail of your world, and if you attempt it, you’ll carefully hand-craft an unreadable clusterfuck.

Second, a character is not a person. A character is a slave to the narrative. They are an ingredient and a tool. Even if they’re the complete focal point of the story, you cannot possibly fully explore them. They do not have full human lives or sapience. They only have what they are given. As inhuman objects and creative constructs, they are also not worthy of the same respect as a real human being. can you believe I have to say that

Third, it’s not important to have a fully-rounded character because that’s not always what the story requires. There are all kinds of different stories outside of character-driven ones—for example, focal points might be on themes, ideas, settings, or vast periods of time, and not on people at all; sometimes the narrative as a whole is more important than the characters inside of them; sometimes the style and POV limits how much we can know; sometimes it’s simply more entertaining or informative to omit certain information; and so on.

There are many ways to be interesting, and there are many ways to string along a series of plot points, and characters are just more tools in the toolbox. Instead of raking a narrative across the coals for not meeting your standards, it’s far more sensible to ask what the narrative is and what it’s trying to do, then judge it according to the standards it was trying to meet.

The Fountainhead

Sometimes a character works best if we don’t know that much about them. In my opinion, Frank Fontaine is one of these. He has a limited efficacy and only in specific situations.

How is Fontaine used in BioShock? Sparingly, that’s how. And when he finally shows up as ringleader, it’s to head what is arguably the weakest part of the game. Suddenly you have to look straight at him for a couple of hours, and he’s just not that interesting under a spotlight. He’s a small-time crook who won the lottery; what made him interesting was the Atlas con and his friction with Andrew Ryan, and both are over. He’s not that big of a deal in and of himself. He doesn’t really have any power other than ADAM—and of course, that’s the point.

Fontaine is not a character with an arc. He can’t change and he wouldn’t work very well if he did. In fact, he’s not really a character at all—he’s an anthropomorphized human quality. One of the alternate meanings of “frank” is “honesty” or “truth”; “Fontaine,” or “fountain,” probably refers to Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead.

“What is the fountainhead—the source—of the Ubermensch?” Rand asks.

Levine replied: “What is the fountainhead of Objectivism?”

If Objectivism got everything it wanted, what would its world really look like? Because it wouldn’t be Galt’s Gulch or Rapture in its heyday.

Frank Fontaine is the ultimate culmination of Objectivist theory—not Andrew Ryan. The guy who wins doesn’t have to have any laudable moral qualities at all—all he has to be is the strongest or most cunning. The best idea or product doesn’t necessarily succeed because Objectivism isn’t about quality—you can just get steamrolled into bullshit because some company has more resources and social currency than the innovative little guy. If all you value is strength, all you will receive is the strong, and that strongman does not have any incentive to be anything other than a flesh-tearing, blood-drinking brute.

One of BioShock’s best qualities is how it just lets Fontaine sort of exist quietly in the background, like the faint, tense hum of an electric wire. You see evidence of him. You see what people think of him. But you never actually see him. The mystery is part of his power. Pre-twist, you only hear his voice once, and it’s probably utilized as a red herring in case you started to doubt Atlas’ identity. After all, Atlas is Irish, and Fontaine is from New York or something! You can trust Atlas!

But Can You Trust Shirley?

what the fuck do you think

I thought of just ending here and letting you figure it out but I believe this deserves just a little explication.

In Chapter 2, Fontaine—going by the surname Gorland—waltzes in, front and center, and with all the flare of a supervillain descending from on high, steals some loser’s shitty-ass bar.

“Whatta hell ya mean you’re the owner, Gorland?” … “…You’re about to sign this bar over to me, is whatta hell.” … Merton stared at the papers, eyes widening. “That was you? Hudson Loans? Nobody told me that was—” “A loan is a loan. What I seem to recall is, you were drunk when you signed it. Needed some money to pay off your gambling vig. A big fucking vig it was too, Merton!”

Fontaine got a guy drunk and made him sign something. Is this supposed to impress me?

I cut a ton of needless bullshit out and I still didn’t cut as much as I should have. (A “vig” is a gambling debt, so “gambling” is redundant, among other things.) What shitty dialogue this is. I told you, McDonagh isn’t the only one you should be cringing at. Shirley is terrified you won’t understand him so he makes sure to explain every point three times over.

When Levine writes “CIA spook” or “das vedanya,” it’s not to prove his work. It’s there because it makes sense there. When Shirley uses a specific term, it’s to show off. It’s like a little kid running up to show you that he finished a question on his homework. Except he does it every time he finishes something. And he’s always wrong somehow.

“Vig” in particular got me.

“Vig, you know! Yeah I looked it up! Vig! A gambling debt! Bet you’ve never heard that before! I researched! See! Vig!”

I will find your thesaurus, tear each page out one by one, and eat them in front of you without breaking eye contact. You will see me when you get up at midnight for a drink of water, slowly crunching in the dark. When you call the police I will evaporate. All that will be left is the hardcover, tented over a single dead roach pinned to the floor. At night you will hear me whispering from the walls: “haaaaaaaack”

Cynicism, Nihilism, Gnosticism, Humanism

Frank Fontaine is the most cynically written of all the characters thus far. He’s the one with the most obvious To-Do List.

“What do I need to establish about Frank Fontaine?” Shirley asked himself. “Let’s see: he is a conman. He is a great actor. He needs to find out about Rapture and get there somehow. He’s a super-awful guy. I should establish his background, motivations, and how he learned his skills. I know! He lived in a vaudeville theater!”

All right, all right. Let me be fair. I would bet money that Levine is the source of that background bit—BioShock features a million stages for a reason that I will someday write about at length—but god I hate it. I was in one-act play and I have watched hundreds of films but it doesn’t mean I know how to act. Isn’t it enough that Fontaine learns to manipulate others, perhaps out of a sense of childish self-preservation before evolving into predation? Does it have to be a big show?

…yes, I guess. Fuck. Because gnosticism.

Gnosticism is one of those BioShock themes that I least expected in this novel because it is a pure thought exercise and exists on several metaphorical levels. I’m sure Shirley has been informed of its existence, but we all know how he’ll handle it (he can’t lol). All you need to know about gnosticism is that it’s a philosophy that believes the physical environment is a broken copy of a higher reality. Even though the physical realm is fucked, it can still point toward a higher truth. In other words, you can learn from the physical world’s half-truths to achieve gnosis—knowledge of that ultimate spiritual truth—and thereby ascend to that higher spiritual plane.

But Ken Levine has a different take on ascension.

According to Levine, you learn by going through the horrors of life, but the truth is not some beatific vision. There is no god and there is no better world: there is Only Man. All you learn is that human beings hurt each other, and that they won’t ever stop, and to survive, you must go to war yourself—whether you like it or not. In the process, you struggle toward an understanding of how to make a better world, but there’s a catch: you have committed all kinds of harm out of ignorance. By committing that harm, you have ensured that the damage goes on… and on… and on.

No human being can avoid this.

Nobody can just TELL you how to make a better world—it’s far too big and complicated a place, and it’s always changing. You have to experience it for yourself to understand how it works. That means you can’t take your knowledge to others, either—because not only can future generations not understand you, your own knowledge is highly individual, and the world is continually changing so that you’re always one step behind. Future generations have to make their own mistakes in their own unique settings to figure out how best to live. In the process, they fuck up the future in a whole new way.

Everyone thinks they’re going through hell looking for heaven, but it turns out it’s always been about this fucked-up world and this fucked-up present with its fucked-up people. All you can do is your best with what you know.

The way Levine illustrates this is that art and artifice performatively point toward that ultimate higher truth: there is no escape, and we are destined to hurt ourselves and future generations in an unbreakable cycle. BioShock is existential horror at its heart, and it’s the best kind—the humanist kind.

So, thematically speaking, Fontaine being a literal performer, acting for our education and elevation, is correct. If you pay attention to the game, every character functions this way. Everything is a performance for your benefit as player. I have to admit that it makes sense. Plus, other than working retail, entertainment is a great way to learn how to hate the human race.

I still hate it. I want Fontaine to be more grounded, I guess. Every time I imagine him in a theater I cackle a little.

Cardboard People

Returning to BioShock: Rapture, the first problem with Fontaine’s section is that he doesn’t feel like a person. I don’t get a sense of his past, even when it’s explicitly mentioned. I bring up Fontaine’s past because people do what they do based on a complicated play of psychological need and lessons learned to survive past environments.

Alas: Fontaine is a one-note mustache-twirler. He wants to get money why? To get more money. Not to survive, not to defy the privations of his past, not to take vengeance on an uncaring world, not to bang girls, not to buy cool shit. He just fucks people up because that’s what he does.

Also, despite being a petty criminal, he seems above and beyond the law somehow. I’m not afraid for him when that G-man from earlier walks into his bar.

…oh, for fuck’s sake, that’s still my optimism talking. I keep expecting this book to work like a book. This thing is the hairy knot you find at the bottom of a drain.

Anyway, the second problem with Fontaine is that the entire story works to his benefit, and it’s immediately ludicrous. Instead of giving Fontaine problems to solve—and giving Andrew Ryan ways to work against him—you know, like real human beings with brains—Shirley just throws information and idiots at Fontaine constantly.

Allow me to illustrate.

Frank Fontaine gets his bar by drugging a guy who is dumb with or without intoxication. Fontaine wanted this bar so he could listen into bar patrons’ conversations for hot tips on gambling and grifts. When does this pay off?

guess

If you said, “Immediately!”, Fuck You! You are correct!

[Fontaine] wiped at an imaginary spill on the bar, edging closer. “But can we count on Steele?” said the one some called Twitchy. He twitched his pencil-thin mustache. “Thinks he’s going to challenge the Bomber next year…” “So let him challenge; he can lose one fight. He needs the payoff, needs it big,” said the chunkier one of the two, “Snort” Bianchi—with a snort.

is this a joke

This is one place I am not sure of Shirley’s intentions. Is it supposed to be bad? Is it supposed to be funny? Is he making fun of me or is he just dumb enough to think this is clever?

What I think this dialogue and these characters represent is Shirley’s attempt to complement BioShock's audio diaries. Again, we hit that divide between the ways stories are best told through different mediums. BioShock’s audio diaries are the literary equivalents of bullion cubes. That’s because you experience dialogue sparingly in a video game, and most content is wrapped up in gameplay, so you’ve got to get your whole idea across as quickly and densely as possible.

It’s for this reason that every BioShock character is an outsized caricature. In the same way that Fontaine is a symbol of Objectivism in its purest form (let's face it, the fountainhead of Man with a capital M), McDonagh is Andrew Ryan’s conscience, and Andrew Ryan is Man falling for the lies of the demiurge. Jasmine Jolene—whom we will see in Chapter 3—represents untenable fantasy.

Oh, and Shadow Eve.

Y’all wanna talk about Shadow Eve? I do. There's only like three of us reading this and I'm counting myself so I'm assuming the vote is unanimous.

Long story short, Shirley doesn’t understand the differences between video game narratives and literary ones, and this fact is probably going to hurt me until the end of this entire broken endeavor.

Shirley also feels like he needs to show Fontaine at work at all times. In his mind, Fontaine is nothing but cons 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Shirley only knows what people do; he doesn’t know why they do anything.

In any case, Fontaine shoos off the Great Value Mobsters, for he has spotted our G-man from earlier, a man named Voss. It appears that Voss is looking for informations.

[Voss] leaned across the bar so he could be heard over the noise. “Word on the street is, this here’s your joint now.”

Originally, I had been reading this quickly, only to run into this paragraph and get terribly confused. Like damn, word travels fast, it’s been 30 minutes and everybody already knows this is Fontaine’s bar?

I had to go back and re-read. The passage of time is suggested somewhere in the info-dump that tells you everything about Fontaine instead of growing him organically over a generous period. It’s done terribly but at least it happened.

Voss crooked a finger, leaned even farther across the bar. Gorland hesitated—then he leaned close. Voss spoke right in his ear. “You hear anything about some kind of big, secret project happening down at the docks? Maybe bankrolled by Andrew Ryan? North Atlantic project? Millions of bucks flowing out to sea…?” “Nah,” Gorland said…. “What kinda deal’s he up to?” “That’s something we don’t… something you don’t need to know.”

haaaaaa haaaaaaa haaaaaaaaaaaaaack

In any case, Fontaine has it in mind that if there are millions of dollars flowing out to sea, he wants in on it somehow.

He didn’t hear anything about Ryan for a couple of days, but one day he heard a drunk blond chippie muttering about “Mr. Fatcat Ryan… goddamn him…” as she frantically waved her empty glass at him. “Hey wherezmuh drinkie?” demanded the blonde.

oh…………. oh this is a hate crime

Have you ever heard of Born Yesterday (1950)? Go watch a clip and listen to the actress, Judy Holliday. Her voice is what I hear in my mind. Except in Born Yesterday the protag is a human being and not a one-dimensional cutout with tits. And Born Yesterday is perfectly representative of its time so the fact it’s outclassing a writer in 2011 is shameful. The only question I have left about this book is, “Who cannot dunk on John Shirley?”

Now I think I understand Shirley a little better. I’m going to give him the benefit of a doubt and assume that we are looking at this crying woman through Fontaine’s eyes, and that this is not reality, but his fucked-up perspective.

You know how I was talking about the relationship between third-person limited POV and bedrock reality? This is one of those breakdowns. In third-person limited, we can see inside of one person, but nobody else. They occupy a world limited by their bias, but that world operates outside of them according to its own logic, which our Subject may or may not be able to comprehend truthfully. There should be clear divisions between what the Subject knows and perceives versus what is happening outside of them. When outside characters speak, or outside events occur, the reader should be assured that they really occurred in the ways they are shared. Otherwise there’s nothing solid to latch onto.

But I’ve got to be honest: I don’t know if this is intentional or not. I have never questioned point-of-view this way in my life. How much have I taken for granted in my tiny span? How do you learn to do something like this so, so badly?

This is John Shirley. We taught him wrong, as a joke.

Of course he wears all black and a goofy hat. Then he sucked all the contrast out until he was clothed in void. Does he think he’s a warlock

Long story short, this POV shit feels like madness to me. Should prose cause seasickness? The way this book is fucked up is one of the most unique experiences I’ve ever had. Although I’m learning a great deal from it, I also hate this experience. And I hate John Shirley.

“I’ll have a Scotch if I can’t have my man back,” she sobbed, “that’s what I’ll have! Dead, dead, dead, and no one from that Ryan crew is saying why.”

Ms. Ogyny the Exposition Whore has managed to interest me despite my deep loathing. I spy a mystery!

Coincidentally, this is why Fontaine’s sections tend to be the most interesting: he’s actively trying to figure things out where other characters just kind of hover in time and space.

New Reasons for Me to Feel an Unearned Sense of Superiority

Some of Shirley’s idiosyncrasies start popping out here because I’ve had some time to suffer under his patterns, much like a player getting their ass handed to them under an Elden Ring boss. For example, he sticks dialogue inside of descriptive paragraphs, and he thinks “went on” is an acceptable dialogue tag. I thought that was a fucking error until it happened the second time.

(✿◠‿◠)ノ.❀。• *₊°。I still think it is a fucking error ❀。• *₊°。 ❀

In my opinion, dialogue can be stuck with a descriptive scene, but it should be limited to the speaker’s actions alone. The implication is that the speaker is performing an action while speaking. Shirley will just slap dialogue into a paragraph with multiple actors and let the reader sort it out.

The reason why this is a problem is that it becomes questionable who the speaker is until you find a subject-verb or infer from context clues. Also, the longer the descriptive sequence, the more you have to think about the time taken to say the sentence as the character is performing the action.

You do not want your work to feel like this:

This is where I noted another little idiosyncrasy: every time Shirley does any research, he regurgitates it almost wholly undigested. Here, in an example from the prologue, he discusses the outfit of a Red Army soldier:

“Father,” Andrei whispers, in Russian, turning to look at a tall lean man in a long green coat with red epaulets, a black hat, a rifle slung over his shoulder. “Is that man one of the Red Guard?”

“in Russian” no shit

“Oh, that’s perfectly reasonable,” you may protest.

Then how about this sequence in Chapter 2, where he talks about boxers:

The talk at the crowded bar tonight was full of how Joe Louis, the Brown Bomber, back from the war with a pocketful of nothing and a big tax debt, was going to defend his world heavyweight title against Billy Conn. And how the retired Jack Johnson, first Negro to win the heavyweight champ title, had died two days before in a car accident. None of which was what Gorland needed to know.

(✿◠‿◠)ノ.❀。• *₊°。then why the fuck did you mention it ❀。• *₊°。 ❀

My chief complaint about the first set of descriptors is the list of prepositional phrases and weak adjectives and verbs. It’s a lot of talk with no power or aim. Additionally, Shirley just wrote about a dozen other people while mentioning their appearances so briefly that they might as well have been plywood standees, so a thoughtfully colorized soldier jumps out like a cat in a shitty horror film. That said, if you’re not a picky bastard, it may not bother you.

But the second one is outright incorrect. None of these historical people or subjects have anything to do with Fontaine’s current aims, nor with what he does next. It’s just there to prove that Shirley did research. If anything, it shows Shirley’s weakness: he doesn’t know how to smoothly blend research into his work.

This description is like stirring your cookie batter three times and calling it done, then spooning out a big lump of baking powder.

Shirley just put that shit in the oven.

“I just want my Irving back,” she said, her head sagging down over the drink. Lucky the song coming on the juke was a Dorsey and Sinatra crooner, soft enough he could make her out. “Jus’ wannim back.” He absentmindedly poured a couple more drinks for the sailors at her side, their white caps cocked rakishly as they argued over bar dice and tossed money at him. “What became of the unfortunate soul?” Gorland asked, pocketing the money and wiping the bar. “Lost at sea was he?” She gawped at him. “How’d you know that, you a mind reader?” Gorland winked. “A little fishy told me.”

gross

God, this paragraph is ugly and I hate it. Shirley splits the lady’s dialogue, part of which butts up against Fontaine and two sailors and causes a moment of cognitive dissonance. Shirley is ridiculously specific as to the song playing when “soft crooner” would have sufficed. The true note of interest—the data that Fontaine is sniffing out—skitters around the outsized imagery like a stupid cartoon creature.

Shirley does have a strength, and it’s in visuals. I can see and feel and smell this bar. Unfortunately, his visuals are static and progress little to nothing. Also, from what I can tell, it’s his only skill, unless causing headaches is desirable.

Also, before I leave this part, I want to clarify that there’s no problem with mentioning historical events, organizations, music, speech, people, etc, in your historical novel, and in fact you should, but if that description is at the expense of your plot, you have erred.

In any case, Fontaine asks this unfortunate caricature of womanhood what happened to her beloved. Shirley writes a long and embarrassing paragraph of dialogue that cannot end soon enough, and when it does end, it’s like this:

“Well, I went over to the place that hired him, Seaworthy Construction they was called—and they threw me out! Treated me like I was some kinda tramp! All I wanted was what was comin’ to me… I came out of South Jersey, and let me tell you, we get what we’re owed ’cause…” She went on in that vein for a while, losing the Ryan thread.

You lazy fucking bastard.

This is not the first time Shirley has ended a paragraph like this, either.

A Visual Depiction of the Dismount

Look, there are graceful ways to ease out of dialogue. Shirley doesn’t care what they are. Dialogue stands between him and a description of a “zoot-suiter [putting] a bebop number on the juke.” Do I care about that, sir? I do not. How about Andrew Ryan? How about Rapture? How about

Fontaine Shapeshift Moments Numbers 4, 5, & 6

One of Shirley’s responsibilities as writer is that he needs to illustrate the kind of person that Fontaine is. As far as I’m concerned, he’s done it several times over. It is abundantly clear that Fontaine is an asshole, and it’s clear what kind of asshole he is, even if he is kinda boring. Now that Fontaine has the Rapture thread, you would expect for him to follow that, because that’s what I’m reading this book for.

Obviously, that’s why Shirley takes Fontaine to a boxing ring! Because it is time to throw a fight! After all, we must follow up on that Great Value Mobster thread! We care so much about that! My heart throbs with anticipation! About Twitchy and Snorts!

See, Shirley did not illustrate one specific trait of Fontaine’s, and he thinks it’s important enough to digress to it: Fontaine’s ability to shapeshift, as it were.

“My name’s Lucio Fabrici,” Gorland said, tying Steele’s glove’s nice and tight. “Bianchi sent me.” … “Fabrici” had gone to great lengths for this disguise. The pinstripe suit, the toothpick stuck in the corner of his mouth, the spats, the toupee, the thin mustache—a high quality theatrical mustache carefully stuck on with spirit gum. But mostly it was his voice, just the right Little Italy intonation, and that carefully tuned facial expression that said, We’re pals, you and I, unless I have to kill you.

Wait. Was “spirit gum” called that in 1946? Oh, I don’t care.

It’s worth mentioning that I have noted two black characters so far—the boxer from the historical infodump and Steele’s trainer, who Fontaine paid to scram—and Shirley doesn’t let the trainer talk. And you know what? Given how he writes dialogue, that’s probably the safest option.

After Fontaine throws the thrown fight, he goes to his bookie operation.

[Fontaine] walked over to Morry, to have a gander at the take, and heard a couple of the dockworkers talking over their flask. “Sure, Ryan’s hiring big down there. It’s a hot ticket, pal, big paydays. But problem is—real QT stuff. Can’t talk about the job. And it’s dangerous too. Somewhere out in the North Atlantic, Iceland way…”

First of all, there’s the unnecessary description. Can’t we just assume that Fontaine walked somewhere? What does that add to the narrative? Use stronger imagery or take that shit out. That’s literally your only skill and now you’re fucking that up, too.

Second of all, split the dialogue off, why do you keep sticking it to random fucking descriptions.

Third of all, how does the entire fucking world not know what Andrew Ryan is doing? Half of what Fontaine has learned has been from overhearing random people. It’s like the whole universe is conspiring to help Fontaine out, and it’s getting a little weird, I’m gonna be honest. Every time I randomly overhear people it’s things like grocery lists and brain-dead political takes. When will I overhear where to find one million dollars

Then there’s how Fontaine reacts when he overhears this information. This sentence immediately follows the paragraph above:

[Fontaine] slipped outside by the side door and set himself to wait.

He literally says nothing to anyone. He just leaves. He’s just had an intense exposition-filled conversation with his employees and then he’s like whoops bye bitches fuck your lives

Look at how fucking pathetic this sentence is, too. “Set himself to wait”? I actually double-checked this after an edit because I was sure I’d inserted a typo. No, it’s just this bland.

This whole sequence was almost certainly written at a sprint. Words and phrases are weak as shit—no emotional power, no visual or spatial sense, no movement. There are no smooth transitions and, quite naturally, no tension. It’s just one domino falling after another. You wanna take a moment and think?

NO.

RUN BITCH.

RUN

Fontaine follows the deckhands until they reach their ship—the Olympian.

Gorland tilted his hat so the G-man wouldn’t see his face and strolled over, hands in his pockets, weaving a bit, making like he was drunk.

There’s some more embarrassing tryhard dialogue but you can read it yourself.

“Making like he was drunk.” jesus christ are you even trying

The only important part is the deckhand arguing with an officer.

“I just ain’t shipping out to that place again, and that’s all there is to it,” snarled the deckhand in the black peacoat. … “I don’t mind being on the ship—but in that hell down below, not me!” “There’s no use trying to say you’ll only take the job if you stay on the ship—it’s what Greavy says that goes! If he says you go down, you go down!” “Then you go down in my place—and you wrestle with the devil! It’s unholy, what he’s tryin’ to do down there!”

Wait. What? Why? Why is it unholy to build things under the ocean? Look, I was a religious nut for a huge portion of my life, and I can’t remember any taboos about checks notes building underwater?

As the deckhand takes off, having quit employment with Ryan Industries, Fontaine sees a piece of metal, picks it up, and runs after the deckhand.

“Hey!” the man yelped. Gorland held the deckhand firmly in place and pressed the end of the cold metal pipe to the back of his neck. “Freeze!” Gorland growled, altering his voice. He put steel and officiousness into it. … “You think I’m some crooked dock rat? I’m a federal agent! Now don’t even twitch!” [Fontaine said.]

Fontaine flashes a fake badge, then gets this deckhand to spill his guts. In two pages, he learns about Ryan building a city beneath the sea, complete with information about its technology and current state of construction.

End chapter.

Fontaine’s section of Chapter 2 runs from pages 39 through 54. In about two weeks, he has pretended to be six different people and learned everything he needs to know about Andrew Ryan.

You Can Always Try

I don’t know what Shirley was on at this point. In my mind, you devote one chapter to Fontaine at the tail-end of one really good con. Really put your effort into the con, show the ups and downs as the criminals attempt to outmaneuver the popo. Maybe show Fontaine fuck up some other criminal and then take his name. A shadow steps out of the smoke, adjusts his hat. “The name is Frank Fontaine.” Ohhhhh noooo I thought Frank Fontaine was that other guyyyy ooooooh shiiiiitttttt! And then never give out his background the rest of the story, and never show his internal world. Third-person objective: narrator stands outside of everyone. Keep Fontaine a huge question mark the entire story.

But Shirley was like, “Give Fontaine 3,000 cons in the same chapter, one after the other after the other, nonstop, don’t breathe, don’t stop, go go go go, and do it in such a way that Fontaine looks like the only human player in a world of NPCs.”

It just feels so unnecessary.

Here are images of Fontaine and Atlas.

That’s called “growing your hair out” and “cosmetic surgery” you fucking dumbass. It’s not that big of a deal. Now write something I give a shit about.

Question: how couldn’t the feds get all of this information in all the same ways, plus some? This is the FBI in 1946, the USA has just gone through WW2 like gangbusters, the Cold War is just warming up, and—most terrifyingly of all—J. Edgar Hoover is the FBI director. You think they give a single shit? Hell, I’m not sure they’d have to do much in the way of skullduggery at all. So far, the biggest problem with keeping Rapture secret has been employees talking.

Long story short, now Andrew Ryan and the US government look like chumps, and the narrative has the gall to imply Fontaine is skilled when he’s just unreasonably lucky. And if there’s one rule you should never break for a BioShock story it’s to make Andrew Ryan a fucking chump.

If You Must

Although having Fontaine front and center is not ideal, it’s also doable. So far, he’s the most interesting character in the book—probably because he’s solving the Rapture mystery. There are elements he doesn’t understand, which is a kind of tension, even if there are no repercussions for failure.

This tension is accidental. Just like every other character, Fontaine’s challenges and enemies are either neutered or indistinct. He hovers in a kind of eternal limbo where he is everything he has ever been. We can’t pretend it’ll get any better from here on out. However, let’s pretend that Shirley gives a fuck.

Now that Fontaine in a traditional character-driven narrative, we need to give him an arc. The Fontaine of Chapter 2 must not be the same Fontaine we see by the end of the story. We know Shirley will fail, but that’s the standard we’re going to judge him by. Remember: this isn’t BioShock-the-game. We’re writing literature now, so the aims and methods are different. If you’re going to use him as a major antagonist, he needs challenges to surmount, same as Andrew Ryan and Bill McDonagh and every other character ever.

So if you’re going to use Fontaine in this role, he has got to have an arc of some kind. He’s got to have something to overcome or learn or become because he’s in the kind of story that calls for that.

A competent writer would give you a reason to be interested in Fontaine. Shirley knows you’ve picked up this book because you’re a fan, so he presupposes you already are. So he just… doesn’t try.

jesus christ this lazy bastard. I hold him in utter contempt.

And I am just now at Chapter Fucking Three.

<- Part 5: Three Old Men Jerking Their Milk Sticks || Back to the Beginning || Part 7: Shadow Eve ->

#bioshock #bioshock rapture #frank fontaine #writing #reading #essays #rants #long post #vvatchword #vv reading #sorry for how awkward this gets but I'm tired and done now

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chicaotaku-fanfics · 3 months ago

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There's Three of You?! Pt. 5

New chapter (finally!) I'm sorry for the delay, I've been a bit busy doing college student stuff, but! I'll post this and the other 2 chapters I have in my belt ready for you all in a bit, so yeah, thanks for your patience and giving my story a go!

Warnings: foul language, might be some medical inconsistencies.

CHAPTER 5

Apparently Will had come back to Chicago and never said a thing, at least to me, I heard from Jay that he had gone to the District and asked to stay with him and has been doing so ever since, but, I haven’t seen him… until today.

“Newbie, I understand that your brother, Dr. Halstead had an interview with Ms. Goodwin about working here at Med, right?” asked one of the doctors.

“Yes, I heard about it.” I said, she just looked at me, the kind of look that I hate the most: a condescending, ‘I’m-holier-than-thou’ kind of look. This woman was underestimating me, and I was HATING it.

“Well, in that case, if you would be so kind and GO GET HIM we all would appreciate it.” She said… Do I look like a fucking errand girl?!

“Excuse me? My shift just started, I can’t just leave.” I told her, balling my hands into fists inside my coat’s pockets, she looked at me with fire in her eyes Well, fuck me… I screwed up

“You’re just an intern girl, not even a resident yet. I’m an attending soon-to-be trauma fellow. You wanna be someone in here, just do as you’re told. Am I clear?” she asked, I bit down my tongue.

Well, technically I’m already a junior resident, but if I say so, she might just get angrier at me.

“Yes ma’am.” I said, holding back my anger, she look pleased with herself.

“It’s Dr. Zanetti. You’ll do good in remembering that.” she said, I nodded and went to the front desk.

“Dr. Zanetti ordered me to go and get my brother. I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.” I told April, looking at her with the remnants of the anger in my eyes, even the name of the doctor left my mouth as if I was spiting out venom, the nurse just looked at me with understanding.

“Go. I’ll tell Mrs. Goodwin so you don’t get in trouble.” April said, I nodded and smiled at her.

“Thank you April.” I said, grabbed my coat and went on my merry way to Jay’s apartment.

I arrive in a relatively short time, go up the stairs and as soon as I was about to knock on the door, it opens, revealing a girl adjusting her clothes. We both stop in our tracks before we crash into each other.

“Oh. Hi.” she says, surprised to see me, but with a small smile on her face none the less. I give her the same kind of smile.

“Hi.” After that, the girl’s about to leave, I stop her, turn her around, fix the back of her coat and blouse and smile at her as a goodbye, she smiles and nods her thanks, leaving and waving at me before going down the stairs.

“When do you have to be at work?” I hear Jay ask as I make my way inside the apartment.

“Ten minutes ago.” Will and I say at the same time, both of them turn to look at me, Jay is the one to speak again.

“It’s your first day. And when did you get in?” Jay’s statement directed to Will and the question directed at me.

“The second his girlfriend left. And by the way, I wouldn’t be with her… she’s after your bank balance, and it’s not even available.” I said, I mean, she looked nice enough, but girls like her can be tricky… I had my fair share of them -as well as guys- through med school.

“Uh… first and last as it turns out. Almond milk? Don’t you have any regular milk in here?”

“You’re joking.” said Jay, I was honestly thinking the same thing.

“No.” Will paused. “I gotta get back.” he said, referring to New York.

“To what? I thought the partners kicked you out of the practice.” said Jay, I turn to look at him, he has the same confused expression on his face.

“They did but, now this may come as a shock to you, there are other practices in New York City.” Will said, I was reaching the end of my patience and so was Jay.

“Hey how ‘bout, for once, you see something all the way through?” he says, sass dropping through every syllable.

“Wow! You sound like the old man.” Will says, I’m holding back from slapping him in the back of the head.

“There it is. I mean that is why you’re blowing back out of town, right?” Jay says, now annoyed and still very much a drama king.

“What do you care?” Asks Will, defensive as hell, and with that I had it.

“I’m actually with Jay on this one Will.” I say, said red head turns to look at me.

“Why are you even here?” he asks, sounding annoyed, I, again, do everything in my power to avoid smacking him so hard behind the head.

“I was sent to get your ass to the hospital.” I say, annoyance in my voice too.

“Why?” he asks. This ungrateful bastard.

“Maybe because we share a last name? Why else you ass?! Let’s go, I don’t have all day and I don’t want Zanetti to have my head.” I say, enough command and sass to make even Jay tremble a little.

My brothers look at each other, and then they both answer “Yes ma’am.”

We make it to the hospital and Will tries to talk to Ms. Goodwin ‘bout the whole “I’m not staying in Chicago” thing and, she ignores him, I snort behind my hand. I love that woman. Her “no bullshit” attitude is GOALS!

Sometime passed and the ER wasn’t getting anymore empty, it was a bit concerning. I was about to go downstairs to the pathology lab, but I was asked to help around since we were gonna be slammed with CFD’s victims, I asked April to page pathology and to explain why I wouldn’t be going downstairs anytime soon, she smiled at me and agreed, handing me a new pair of gloves and wishing me good luck.

Just as the firefighters were delivering us a new round of patients, a guy who looked as if he was dead on his feet stood on a chair, started talking nonsense until he pulled out a grenade, took of the safety and yelled.

“Death to all Americans. You’re all dead in two weeks! Allahu akbar!” That got one of the firefighters -I think his name’s Severide- into action, making him jump and make the guy fall and blow up, the next thing I knew, everything went black.

#fanfic #one chicago #will halstead #jay halstead #oc #halstead sister #halstead brothers

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allpowerfulspacevalkyrie · 5 months ago

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Finally watched the Furiosa movie today. I did enjoy it, I was anxious about Anya Taylor Joy but she nailed the role of Furiosa. Alyla Brown as little Furiosa did awesome too. I've never wanted to punch Chris Hemsworth before, but I did watching this movie. A bit too much dialogue compared to the first movie, the first movie did show don't tell very well. This movie reversed course and has too much dialogue exposition in several scenes. I do feel that the plot got a little off. I never read the prequel Furiosa comic but I think most of it comes from there, and after a few hours of digesting I think I know why the plot is off. Spoilers under the cut.

I think the first moment I went, huh this isn't right, was when it's revealed she grew her hair back. When she's a little girl trapped with Immortan Joe's "wives", she cuts her hair off and makes a wig with it. It's an unclear plan for escape until Rictus Erectus tries to grossly play with her hair again, oopsy she's running away free and can hide amongst the boys. So why the hell does she allow her hair to grow so long again? Well the next moment of the movie I realized the guy I thought was going to be her positive father figure that teaches her to be a bad ass driver, is apparently her romance. Can't be a romantic woman with a buzzcut. Don't get me wrong, Tom Burke/Praetorian Jack is hot. Their relationship is pretty good. But woOow that age gap. At filming, Anya was about 26, Burke is about 40, a stretch with their ages, but when they meet as Furiosa and Jack, it feels a bit like she's 16 and he's 40. But again, the relationship is pretty good otherwise, there was chemistry, their escape sequence was fantastic. It predictably ends badly because this is a prequel after all, Dementus catches up to them and kills Jack. The story turns into a revenge on Dementus. I guess Furiosa never wanted to get revenge that badly after watching her mother be brutally tortured to death in the beginning?

I love that the plot ends with how killing in revenge doesn't solve anything, doesn't bring people back, and it's better to find other uses of your time (and use of your anger). However, after turning the whole plot over in my head I feel like that love story shouldn't have been there and the revenge plot on Dementus should have been consistent from the start because of what happened to her mom. Jack stays, there needs to be a balance to all the negative masculine energy in the movie and I don't see why he can't be a father figure. Also I think he's hot.

A central point of Fury Road is that Furiosa is rescueing those women from being Immortan Joe's breeders. I went into this movie expecting to see reasoning why she would want to do that besides the obvious it's right thing to do. What did she experience to motivate her to jeopardize her escape home, for them, with three armies of men following to get them back? Why did she growl in Joe's face "remember me?" before riping half that face off. She's a bad ass driving a massive truck through the desolate desert. She's got a magnificent resting bitch face and is beating the shit out of men left and right. She could escape whenever she wants without those women, far more easily. And with the Furiosa movie, she nearly does it once and has the perfect opportunity to do it again at the very end of the movie.

Why even go back to the Citadel at all? I'd have to watch again but I'm pretty sure she's not bound to Joe for any reason. And the ending with Dementus, while interesting, is such a weak reason to go back. Her interaction with Joe's "wives" in this prequel is so minimal. At most, we're shown a woman desperate to please and produce another son, but her lucks run out and the third baby she's had is another dead one. Off to be milked like a cow. That's it. A scene worth empathy, but we don't see anything else for why Furiosa would risk getting home with three armies of men chasing her across the desert for these women. Besides the obvious right thing to do.

It would have been interesting if some kind of relationship formed with at least one of the other women trapped by Joe. Maybe romantic, maybe a mild rivalry, maybe some encouragement to not try to escape because they are "safe and pampered" (I myself coming from a extreme conservative cult christian upbringing could relate to hearing that delusional thinking). A scene where this woman (or girl) tries to learn where Furiosa is from but Furiosa is sworn to secracy about her home. Then at the end Furiosa gets hit with the reality that those women need her help because of the death of this one woman within the confines of her "safe and pampered" prison. Now Furiosa tells these women of the Green Place, where they won't be "pampered" but far more free and safe (at least until they find out the water went bad).

Wouldn't it have been a great twist if this other girl/woman was about Furiosa's age and is actually Jack's daughter who was taken from him years ago. His Praetorian Jack act is his plan to get close enough to rescue his daughter. But everything falls apart because of Furiosa's revenge quest. Her actions for revenge results in Jack's death, then when Furiosa returns to warn Joe of Dementus's plans, she learns Jack's daughter is dead too.

Yeah. That romance was sweet and all, but unnecessary and weak motivation for Furiosa.

#furiosa #mad max saga #mad max fury road

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year ago

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The Priory School pt 1

A 4-parter? Exciting. Though I'm going away in a couple of days so I don't know when I'll get a chance to properly read through it all.

Anyway, first thing's first:

I cannot recollect anything more sudden and startling than the first appearance of Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., etc.

What a name. Are those both surnames or did his parents name him Thorneycroft? If so, that's quite the name to have. It's got to be a two-part surname, hasn't it?

...so large, so pompous, and so dignified that he was the very embodiment of self-possession and solidity. And yet his first action when the door had closed behind him was to stagger against the table, whence he slipped down upon the floor, and there was that majestic figure prostrate and insensible upon our bearskin hearthrug.

He collapsed, but he did it in the most dignified manner possible.

That's a superpower.

Then Holmes hurried with a cushion for his head and I with brandy for his lips.

BRANDY!

How I have missed you! Clearly the only possible medical response to such an entrance. Give the man a brandy, let it work its magic!

Brandy, the unsung hero of the Holmes stories. The true doctor. The panacea of the ages.

"Thank you, if I might have a glass of milk and a biscuit I have no doubt that I should be better."

What? No brandy?

Milk and a biscuit? I like this guy.

“Have you heard nothing of the abduction of the only son of the Duke of Holdernesse?”

Hey wait, is that one of the stories that was mentioned in a previous story? I vaguely recall something about the Duke being kind of a dickhead. But I might be confusing matters.

By 'late Cabinet Minister' does Holmes mean that of late the duke was a cabinet minister, or that he was a cabinet minister and then he died?

And how many 'wealthiest' people in the country are there? We seem to be collecting them.

"I may tell you, however, that his Grace has already intimated that a cheque for five thousand pounds will be handed over to the person who can tell him where his son is, and another thousand to him who can name the man, or men, who have taken him.”

That's over £600,000 in today's money if anyone's wondering, which translates to Just under $750,000.

"And now, Dr. Huxtable, when you have consumed that milk you will kindly tell me what has happened, when it happened, how it happened, and, finally, what Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable, of the Priory School, near Mackleton, has to do with the matter, and why he comes three days after an event—the state of your chin gives the date—to ask for my humble services.”

Wait, wait, wait. He called him Dr Huxtable, so that means Thorneycroft is actually his first name. Seriously?

Wow.

That's a choice.

Both by author and by fictional parents. A. Choice.

I'm glad they gave him his milk and biscuits. 😊

"It is an open secret that the Duke's married life had not been a peaceful one, and the matter had ended in a separation by mutual consent, the Duchess taking up her residence in the South of France."

This is strangely functional compared to other relationships we've seen. Apart from the custody issues. (Did the boy run off to live with his mother?) At least neither of them is actively abusing or killing the other - as far as we can tell from this information at least. A mutual separation is very grown up of them.

"Heidegger, the German master, was missing. His room was on the second floor, at the farther end of the building, facing the same way as Lord Saltire's. His bed had also been slept in; but he had apparently gone away partly dressed, since his shirt and socks were lying on the floor."

Was going to say 'suspicious', but the fact that he wasn't fully dressed seems pretty certain to point to him having observed the boy going/being taken and having taken off after him in a hurry. No self respecting kidnapper would do the job half-dressed. At least not in the early twentieth century. Imagine kidnapping someone without your waistcoat or your hat? The horror!

"It is only a few miles away, and we imagined that in some sudden attack of home-sickness he had gone back to his father; but nothing had been heard of him."

You said yourself he was sent to your school because he was miserable at home and missed his mother. Isn't it more likely he was heading to the South of France if he left by himself?

“I am not to blame, Mr. Holmes. His Grace was extremely desirous to avoid all public scandal. He was afraid of his family unhappiness being dragged before the world. He has a deep horror of anything of the kind.”

I take back everything I said about this duke being a grown up. Your child is missing. Unless you know exactly where he is and that he's safe, or you have a ransom note saying that if you tell people they'll kill him, you don't try and cover the thing up. Avoiding scandal is not more important than your son.

“Was he in the master's class?” “No; he never exchanged a word with him so far as I know.” “That is certainly very singular."

I mean, if you look out your window and see a child absconding from school grounds in the middle of the night, then you kind of have to go after him. You don't just say 'oh, well he's not in my class, it must be someone else's problem'... do you? There's a duty of care, surely.

“Well, now, you do not mean to seriously suggest that this German rode off upon a bicycle in the dead of the night bearing the boy in his arms?” “Certainly not.” “Then what is the theory in your mind?”

That the boy got into a car/carriage with someone he trusted and the German teacher set off in pursuit on his bicycle because one of the students was being kidnapped.

I do hope the poor German teacher isn't dead in a ditch somewhere. He seems to be the only person thus far with any sense (although maybe shouting to wake someone else up might have been a thought).

“His Grace is never very friendly with anyone. He is completely immersed in large public questions, and is rather inaccessible to all ordinary emotions. But he was always kind to the boy in his own way.”

Sounds like the perfect candidate for sole custody of a young boy.

“I have had some confidential talks with Mr. James Wilder, his Grace's secretary. It was he who gave me the information about Lord Saltire's feelings.”

This is the second, or maybe third, mention of Mr James Wilder, his Grace's secretary. Hmmmmm

If anyone could imitate the duke's handwriting, it would be his secretary. And he's going around talking about his employer's private affairs. Hmmm and again I say hmmmmm

"...it would be well to allow the people in your neighbourhood to imagine that the inquiry is still going on in Liverpool, or wherever else that red herring led your pack."

Huh, the phrase 'red herring', according to Google, originated in the year 1807... or 1686... or 1884...

So... that clears that up. 🤣

“The Duke is here,” said he. “The Duke and Mr. Wilder are in the study. Come, gentlemen, and I will introduce you.”

Ah, Mr Wilder, you grow more suspicious by the second.

“Hardly that, Doctor, hardly that,” said Holmes, in his blandest voice. “This northern air is invigorating and pleasant, so I propose to spend a few days upon your moors, and to occupy my mind as best I may. Whether I have the shelter of your roof or of the village inn is, of course, for you to decide.”

Telling Holmes to stop investigating something is like telling a toddler that they aren't allowed to eat the chocolate cake. Inevitably it makes them want it more. Congratulations, Mr Wilder, you just made sure Holmes is never leaving. You are stuck with him.

The nobleman's reply was interrupted by his secretary, who broke in with some heat. “His Grace is not in the habit of posting letters himself...”

Heaven forfend that a duke should post his own letters! LE GASP. He might... touch something common and contaminate his noble hands! Or the effort of such menial exertions might raise a common sweat upon his noble brow! How could you even suggest such a thing, Holmes? How dare?!

It was evident that to his intensely aristocratic nature this discussion of his intimate family affairs with a stranger was most abhorrent, and that he feared lest every fresh question would throw a fiercer light into the discreetly shadowed corners of his ducal history.

I'm not exactly predisposed to like aristocratic characters, I will admit, but this is just such a 'Really? Really really?' moment. I get stiff-upper-lip, toxic-masculinity, allergic-to-emotions, but your only son is missing. Sir, either you are dead inside or you know exactly where he is and are responsible.

#Letters from Watson #The Priory School #Sherlock Holmes #long post

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noodyl-blasstal · 1 year ago

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Free day! - Blupjeans Week, day 6

My @blupjeansweek prompts are part of a story find the others here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 or on Ao3

“So why haven’t you told her how you feel yet?”

Barry nearly dropped the milk he was trying to pull from the fridge. She couldn’t just say things like that, what if Lup heard? “Mummig!” He said indignantly, face hot with embarrassment. Apparently the robust walls he’d tried to build around his feelings for Lup were tissue paper levels of flimsy as far as Marlena was concerned. Of course he knew she’d see through him. She always saw through him. But he thought maybe he could get away with it for more than a minute, at least a day, but apparently not. “Ssssh. What if she hears you?”

“Shall we take our coffee out to the porch then?” Okay, so Barry had no stay of execution, they were definitely going to have to talk about this. Then Marlena smiled wide and soft. “It’s nice to have a cup waiting for me. Thank you Barry.”

There was no world in which he didn’t make the two cups. Lup wouldn’t be awake for hours yet, but in this house? Here the quiet mornings belonged to Barry and Marlena. Instead of his usual solo research hours, they’d take the coffee pot and sit on the porch. Usually they’d watch the deer, rock idly, talk about anything, everything, nothing; but apparently today, they were going to talk about Lup. Him and Lup. Specifically his feelings for Lup. While Lup slept upstairs in his bed. Great. Good. That was fine. Barry could do that.

Situated and settled, Marlena eased him in with stories of their neighbours - no one had changed, this place was constant. Barry wanted to believe it was constant anyway. It was good to know he could always come back and find it unchanged. “But that’s enough of that, I’m going to ask again, Barry. Why haven’t you told her yet?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” It wouldn’t work, of course it wouldn’t work, Marlena was magic, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

She levelled him with a look that he’d always squirmed under. She saw through him, right past his meaty exterior to find bits of soul to read.. “Barry, beautiful, kind, intelligent son of mine. You have been in love with this wonderful woman since at least half way through your first degree. Sooner really, but I don’t think you knew it then. So why haven’t you told her yet?”

“I…” Barry started. Then promptly stopped. He didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t you think she deserves to know?” Marlena’s tone was light, gentle with a hint of concern. Barry didn’t want to cry, he didn’t need to cry. He could talk about this. He loved Lup, Lup didn’t love him, it was a fact of life, nothing to be upset about.

“She doesn’t feel the same.” He said quietly, quickly. He knew why he hadn’t told Lup, it was because he was a coward. If he didn’t say anything he couldn’t be rejected.

“Don’t you think she deserves to decide that, Barry, not you?” Marlena asked, head cocked curiously.

“I…” Barry petered out. There was a long pause.

“Do you trust Lup?” Marlena asked.

“Yes” Barry answered fast, he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Do you think she’d ever purposefully do anything to hurt you?”

“No.” He knew that was true as well.

“Well then, I won’t say anymore about it, but I want you to think on what I’ve said... Now, tell me again about what they asked in your viva?”

“I’ve already told you three times, Mummig, surely you’re bored of it by now?” Barry knew she didn’t understand most of it, but he also knew she’d listen to him explain it for hours if he wanted to.

“Never.” She laughed and shook her head. “How could I get bored of hearing you talk about something you love so much? My little boy, all grown up and doing ethical necromancy.” Marlena pretended to wipe away a tear.

“Fine, but you have to tell me about the field archery tournament next. I want to hear the story about the badger sculpture again.”

They refilled their mugs, rocked slowly, and talked away the first chill of morning.

– “Moooornnnnning.” Lup called through the porch door.

“Lup! Would you like to come join us, dear? Grab a mug from the kitchen, there’s still plenty of coffee in the pot, Barry hasn’t long topped it up.”

“I’d love to, anything you need while I’m there?”

The thing Barry loved about rituals is that they could be the same and new and different all at once. He’d sat on this porch a million times with Marlena, watched the dew on the grass steam and wisp to nothing and felt anchored here. Not by weight, but by wanting. When Lup joined them, shuffling Barry to the side so she can perch in the space beside him and throw her legs across his, it was different, but it was still all the things he loved. It was still home.

– Lup made lunch. She insisted that Marlena should ‘make the most of having a baller chef on staff for the week’ and cheerfully instructed Barry as her kitchen porter. Afterwards, full and appreciative, they all dozed as the television played nonsense in the background. Lup couldn’t be still for long though, and Barry could tell her limit was approaching as she tried unsuccessfully to subdue her need to fidget.

“Shall we go for a walk?” He asked the room.

Lup was out of her seat immediately and almost ran towards the front door. “Wanna show me the old den you built?” She asked, pulling on her boots. “I bet there’s still a bit of it there. If not, you can point out where everything was. It’d be fun to see Baby Barry engineering.”

“You two go ahead.” Marlena waved them off. “I’m going to stay here, big plans for dinner, but I’ll need to stay close to keep an eye on everything. Have a nice time, and don’t worry about rushing back.”

Barry laced his boots, opened the door, and waved. Marlena waved back, and waited until Lup turned away to give him an encouraging thumbs up. Barry suppressed a groan. He supposed she had only promised not to say anything more on the matter, gestures were fair game, but still.

They crunched across the short path to the woods and Lup idly hooked her pinky finger with his. “So, you know how your window’s over the porch?” She said, not breaking her stride, not looking anywhere but the path ahead as they entered the tree line.

Barry did, now that Lup mentioned it, know his window was over the porch. He was willing to bet Marlena knew that too. Was Lup mentioning it because she overheard or just for unrelated architecture based reasons? She hadn’t ever felt compelled to comment on window placement before though… Maybe if he just ran it wouldn’t be weird? He could hitchhike home, leave Lup the car, and by the time she got back to town she would have forgotten why she was angry with him. Although, actually, she didn’t sound angry, her voice wasn’t raised or at Lup’s scary quiet rage register either. “Uh… yeah.”

“Well, I woke up early today. Birds, you know. Noise is different in the countryside.” She squeezed his finger once, reassuringly. She was still here, grounding him, checking in with him.

Barry nodded. “Uh huh?”

Lup stopped and turned to face him. “I just want you to know, I trust you too, Bear, completely and utterly, and that means I trust you to tell me whenever you’re ready.”

Barry didn’t bother bluffing. He didn’t want to. Instead, he wrapped Lup in a hug. He wasn’t ready today, but soon. He’d tell her soon.

#blupjeansweek2023 #Barry Bluejeans #Lup Tacco #Lup #Taz fic #TAZ Balance #Marlena Bluejeans #Noodyl Writes

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rihon-scribe-some-writer-guy · 2 years ago

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Literary Reference and Analysis 324

Today’s Lecture: The Fault in Unsourced References

So, apparently some Pro-Life individuals are looking to make a novel series set in a dystopian totalitarian dictatorship with a 1700 youth character death count as their banner book.

If you’re a sensible blogger who realizes the hypocrisy of such a claim; then just go ahead and like my post for a passing grade in Literary Reference and Analysis 101 and consider yourself exempt from my incoming rant. Anyone who is still left; take out your notepad. You’re now on a crash course in Death of the Author.

Quick Refresher: Citation is important students. Posting a claim in such a manner as Imissedreadingclass did leaves one sounding as Tronald Dump’s Twitter account. (Yes, I have misspelled names. No, I’m not correcting them.)

It should be noted that Hunger Games was written more-so with themes of societal class oppression than it is in anything regarding a fetus. I confidently say so because when I google search “is hunger games pro life,” the first result was an essay review by the Culture of Life Studies Program (a pro-life organization, mind you) stating that “the trilogy evolves into a story that recognizes the need to be free from oppression rather than the need to stop the killing of the innocent.”

The next two google result for that search were articles written by individuals who seemed to have more accreditation that they were Catholic than they were Literary Connoisseurs.

However, if imissedreadingclass wants to take the viewpoint, then let me offer a counter analysis.

Part One: The Major Incident

Alright class, pull out your copy Catching Fire and turn to Chapter 18. Movie viewers: we’re in the interviews, look for Katniss spinning in a fiery dress and play it from there. We see our recent District 12 victors going through the 75th hunger games ordeal. As Katniss and Peeta prepare to try to save the other, the interviews roll around. Peeta now fully plans to milk the star crossed lover strategy. To Katniss’s surprise, he tells Caesar Flickerman that the two of them are already married. Peeta mentions that it’s not official, but there’s a marriage ritual in District 12 that they did, and in their minds they’re as married as they could ever be. Caesar says it’s better that they had some time together before the Quell, but Peeta says if they’d known about the Quell they wouldn’t have done it, because now Katniss is pregnant. The audience bursts into an uproar as people cry and shout, and before they can be calmed, the tributes spontaneously begin reaching for each other.

Attempting to try to reason that the citizens of the capital have adapted a mentality against “the sins of the father” would be futile as multiple generations of children as young as twelve years of age have already been murder in the Hunger Games. Upon hearing that Katniss bares a child, citizens of the capital begin protesting Hunger Games; the same games that have been conducted for the previous seventy-four years that resulted with a median death count of 23 children killed per game. Over one thousand seven hundred children are killed by the hunger games, while generations worth of children grow up in terrible conditions and under fear of the capital. Even with all of this, the citizens only grow a moral backbone when it’s mentioned that a single fetus is now involved in the games. Sorry, did I say mentioned? I meant falsified.

Pro-Choice readers of the series could note the hypocrisy of the capital citizens and tie it to certain actions of Pro-Life individuals IRL. The United States of America made the decision to leave reproductive rights to the decision of the states, with many states moving to ban abortions. Meanwhile, the nation’s pandemic of school shootings continues due to gun right activists unwilling to let gun control policies infringe upon the second amendment.

The notion of this falsified fetus either ignores or damages the argument of personhood. While capital citizens protest against the Hunger Games due to their belief that this fetus should be seen as an individual as rights, the lead characters, readers and viewers know that the argument of personhood is invalid in this instance.

Since we can’t analyze the personhood within a nonexistent character, let us now turn our eyes to our leading lady.

Part Two: Katniss Everdeen and Jennifer Lawrence

Katniss Everdeen might be the most interesting main character with the least amount of agency in a story. Her lack of agency stems more so from the situations that she finds herself in. She’s presented with few choices and many ultimatums.

Now, if the Hunger Games was supposed to be a Pro Life message, then it would make sense for the protagonist to idolize the movement. Yet on a glance, the lead character doesn’t seem to demonstrate such in her character. Katniss Everdeen never wanted to have children. At the start of the series her reasoning was that she fear that they could be reap into the Hunger Games. By the end of her ordeal, her mentality suffered due to the emotional strain of losing her sister that she goes to live in solitude with Peeta. She still never wanted to have children, yet only does so to make Peeta happy. Between her damaged mentality and Peeta’s pestering, it would be hard to say if she had much of a choice in that.

One of the fault of this character is how in the one instance where she could have solved a problem in a peaceful manner, she chose to perform violence with resulted in the death of a character. We’ll get to that one in part four.

Actress Counterpart Jennifer Lawrence self reports that she advocates for the pro choice movement. Unlike irishironclad, I have the link to support this claim.

Part Three: Amandla Stenberg

Amandla Stenberg played the depiction of District 11’s Rue. Her performance of the young girl brought up a controversy of incalculable idiocy when some audience members were baffled that a dark skin girl was portraying a dark skin girl. IQ levels dropped below zero when implications among these quite bias critics expressed that casting the young Amandla Stenberg ruined their perception of Rue’s innocence and made the character’s death less sad for them.

The level of unhealthy bias presented to the young actress should never occur to any teenager in my belief. Nevertheless, Amandla Stenberg took it in stride and used this as a platform to advocate for marginalized communities, she herself sitting at the intersection of blackness and queerness. Her advocation is matched in her bravery in coming out as non-binary and gay.

I can’t help but wonder how many of Stenberg’s haters wear their KKK robes when they shout at women and other child-bearing individuals entering or leaving plan parenthood.

Now obviously not all Pro-Life individuals hold such hypocrisy, yet The Hunger Games Series presents its setting as a dystopia that Pro-Choice individuals fear: a society that is Pro-Control.

Part Four: Antagonist, Villainy, and the Greater of Two Evils, Oh My!

If the antagonists of the series had Pro Choice or Pro Abortion themes displayed in their character, then ifriskminor’snads would have a bar stool to lean on. The fact remains though that the longest standing antagonist can’t be labeled as either term. The ruling government of Panam is a totalitarian dictator by the name of President Snow. In my eyes, he’s practically a more efficient Emperor Palpatine seeing that the span of the Hunger Games outlasted the Star Wars Empire of the original trilogy. I would also say that he could identify as anti choice (considering that he is a dictator) and anti abortion (considering that he has a daughter of his own).

On the flip side of the Coin, District 13 leader President Coin is introduced as Snow political opposition. Yet readers who’ve finished the series are left with the impression that more similarities are found between our presidents than differences. Neither of them are above killing innocent people, as Snow reveals that Coin was responsible for the death of Primrose.

All of this presents Katniss with a situation of the lesser of two evils. Neither Snow or Coin have the moral ethics to take charge of the nation. Yet I can’t help but question Katniss decision. My belief is that a Pro-Life solution would be to introduce a third candidate rather than to assassinate Coin.

Conclusion

In presenting his belief that the Hunger Games series supports the Pro Life movement through its narrative, @irishironclad commits a horrific case of death of the author without justification. In doing so, he leaves an vast opening for counter arguments to cite contradictory instances. All of this leaves the movement that was reference with less credibility than before. With all this in mind, plus the grammatical issues within the post, it is my academic duty to fail this post with a major project grade of 2%.

I can personally understand using the Hunger Games as a banner book rather than the Judeo-Christian Bible, as said Bible puts the death toll of Panam to shame with the flooding in Noah’s time, the tenth plague of Egypt in the time of Moses, and the annihilation oh the city Lot fled from. However the movement from one book to the next didn’t change the lack of source material with the only reference contradicting the movement itself (Exodus 21:22-25).

To anyone attending today’s lecture, the takeaway lesson is to back up any opinion that you plan to make public with more than mysterious here-say, otherwise a stronger counter opinion could sway the masses to see you lacking credit.

#hunger games #literature #literature reference #literature analysis #class dismissed

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gillianthecat · 2 years ago

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my thoughts on the GMMTV trailer drops: more or less in the order of my interest in them

Queer Love

Only Friends - I'm excited. I love mess and drama and entanglements. I'm into messy friend groups and people hurting each other because they're confused and have too many feelings and fears. The trailer also visually looked really good and professional. The show I'm looking forward to most.

Dangerous Romance: I am intrigued! I did not expect this of myself when starting this BL journey a few months ago, but apparently I am into high school romances. I like the enemies-to-lovers, spoiled rich boy x ambitious poor boy dynamic. I liked the feeling of this couple on screen together, and the style of humor. I'm kind of excited about this one actually. The trailer seemed very high quality - like it's edited from actual footage rather than just shot as promo - which a) makes me hopeful the series will actually come out and b) probably increases the show's appeal for me.

23.5 Degrees - I'm looking forward to this one too! I'm into crushes and pining, and popular one/wallflower romances, and as I said above, apparently also high school romance. I like that they're giving Milk and Love entirely new characters and not just another variation on Ink and Paa. The story seems sweet and simple from the trailer, and its hard for me to tell if it really is that basic or if it's just being presented like that for promo purposes, but either way I'm interested. And yay for more GL!

Hidden Agenda: I've seen people saying it looks derivative of 2gether 2 and some other shows, but I haven't watched any of those so it's not an issue for me. The trailer actually appeals, surprisingly. One character tricking another to seduce him could bother me but he seems so straightforward about his trickery, at least as shown in the trailer, that instead it seems interesting. I like crushes and "practice" kisses and inexperienced characters figuring themselves out. It doesn't seem too slapstick in its humor, which would be my main concern with something like this. And it looks a bit messy and apparently today I am very much in the mood for mess.

Last Twilight: The trailer looked very intriguing. I'm not sure how the story is going to handle a blind charter. It is in general a problem that most of the stories about disabled characters that get told are about the tragedy of them becoming disabled. I don't know how it is in Thailand, but in the USA we have way too many of these. That said, this show still intrigues. I'm not blind and perhaps I would feel differently about it if I was, but seeing characters have to adjust to a difficult major change in their life does make for a compelling story. The trailer looked expensive and well made, which always helps. I confess I don't find Jimmy as appealing as many people seem to -something about his voice and his face I find irrationally irritating. But that actually works well for the asshole character that he's playing here, so I think I would enjoy him in this. I like the asshole-for-asshole dynamic they start off with, and it makes it interesting to see how they will soften and fall in love. So I am looking forward to this one, but with some nervousness about how they'll manage it.

Cherry Magic remake: I am very curious about this one. I liked many things about the original Cherry Magic but was also frustrated by it, so the idea of another version does in general appeal to me. I've never seen Tay or New in anything (as far as I recall) so I have no thoughts on them in particular. I don't necessarily trust GMMTV to fix the things I didn't like, and I'm worried that they'll lean ever more into the slapstick stuff. Basically, what I want out of a new Cherry Magic is something that gets a little darker, a little messier, lets the Kurosawa character be more of a co-protagonist than a love interest, and digs a little deeper into this ideas of virginity and the Adachi character’s feelings around sex and desire. I could see GMMTV getting more into the stuff around sex and desire, but I don't nessarily have faith about the rest. The odd little interpretive dance piece they threw together at the last minute to replace the trailer and the conversation that was only 20% subtitled told me basically nothing. Hopefully they'll resolve their licensing issues soon and we'll get to see the actual trailer. In summary, I will likely watch this out of curiosity to see just how they decided to adapt this. (As with all of these, assuming it ever actually comes out.)

Our Skyy 2: I was so confused by this trailer until @heretherebedork kindly explained it's not actually a series, just a label for GMMTV's collection of "special episodes" of one-off sequels for other shows. I don't think I've seen any of their other special episodes so I don't know if I'd like them. Bad Buddy I'm probably interested in because I love Pran and Pat, and also their story wasn't one that felt like it needed to stay within the container of its series; it doesn't feel like it would take away from the original arc to find out what happens later. I confess I still haven't watched the final episode of The Eclipse (I had all these Feelings and kept putting it off and now it's become this big thing) so I don't even know yet if I want more of Akk and Ayan, but I probably do. I don't think I recognized any of the other couples, except Puen and Talay from Vice Versa, which I dropped at episode two.

Cooking Crush: I'm not sure what I think about this one. I have actually really liked Off and Gun in both things I've seen them in (Theory of Love and Not Me) but for some reason the idea of them in things never excites me. I also tend to be turned off by food themed shows. Part of it is my own current complicated relationship with cooking (and food) and part of it is there are just so fucking many of them and it somehow feels... lazy? derivative? I don't know what exactly. All these aesthetic shots of chopping/or food in a pan or glamorously plating a dish makes it feel like an instagram video. And I'm just feeling very over the metaphor of food as love. That being said, it doesn't necessarily look like Cooking Crush is going that route. The trailer does look very bare bones - like they just filmed the parts they needed to get investors, so I also feel like I really don't know what the show will turn out to be and am keeping an open mind.

A Boss and A Babe: I'm generally not a fan of office romances. Part of it is often when they get into the details of the business itself it annoys and bores me, but if they leave it too generic it makes the whole show feel too ungrounded. (Old Fashion Cupcake walked this line beautifully. Oddly enough Senpai, This Can't Be Love!, despite its many flaws, also did this pretty well.). Part of it is very much a me thing and about my complicated feelings around employment and office work.

And a third part, which crystalized for me while watching this trailer, is that while I do want shows about adults, watching an office filled with 22 year old looking actors, and a boss played by someone who looks like he could convincingly play a high school student in another show, somehow feels even less adult to me than university set and even high school set shows. It feels like a teenager's fantasy of adulthood, like the old CW type show about college students aimed at young teens. Something about that makes me feel even older and more out of touch than just watching university students. (That's another thing that was so wonderful about Old Fashion Cupcake, it was about actual grownups, played by actors who were visibly actual grownups.

All of that aside, while the power dynamics of a boss hitting on their subordinate often would bother me, the boss in this show seems so odd that it somehow doesn't here. Overall the show doesn't particularly appeal to me, but it seems weird enough that the tropes and humor style I normally dislike don't actually turn me off, and it's something I might want to watch when I'm in the mood for a certain type of ridiculousness.

Heterosexual Romance

Speaking of actual grown-ups, I think I will be giving Find Yourself a pass. Part of it is my general extreme pickiness with heterosexual romances, part of it is my recoiling from a woman who is actually slightly younger than I am being depicted as this super old character, and part of it is that the aggressive pursuit by the younger guy, which seems to be a staple of these noona romances, is really a turnoff for me. I am intrigued by older woman/younger man romance pairings as a concept, but this version does not appeal to me at all. I haven't looked into it much, I don't know if there are any existing ones that do. I would love a good one!

The Interest: It's a film, so I have no idea if it will ever be available internationally, but the trailer looked very moody and intriguing. Yet again, apparently I'm in the mood for messy and edgy. It appears it's going to be a het romance? I appreciate a trailer that gives me just enough to pique my curiosity without giving away the whole story.

Beauty Newbie: Love triangle(?) het romance that may also be an examination of lookism, beauty standards, and possibly even misogyny? The concept intrigues and could be wonderful if done the right way and very annoying/frustrating if not. The tone of the trailer did appeal though, so I may try it when it comes out, if I even remember its existence then.

Faceless Love: My same general feelings about office romances (especially with such young casts) and het romances apply, and this doesn't have enough in it that attracts me to overcome that. The leads both seem very appealing and I like their chemistry. I also like the male lead's suits. I wish they didn't give the female lead that generic looking make-over. sigh. My understanding of face-blindness was that it didn't stop people from recognizing facial expressions, but apparently that is true for some types of prosopagnosia. I can't tell how well they'll handle the depiction of a disabled character. Highly unlikely I will watch this, but you never know, I could change my mind when it comes out.

Loneliness Society: A While You Were Sleeping remake! Nostalgia alone is a big draw, but otherwise this trailer didn't actually appeal all that much, at least not enough to overcome my general reservations about het romance.

the one with no English title: Highly unlikely I will watch this. Extreme height differences and very baby faced female leads apparently fall outside of the narrow range of things that appeal to me in het romances these days. The story seems pretty bare bones as depicted in the trailer - a girl with a crush and maybe a love triangle? Even if it wasn't het, I don't know that I'd be that excited about it, but I might check it out anyways, if I even remember that it exists.

Not (Necessarily) Romance

Wednesday Club - The idea intrigues me, the trailer itself somehow didn't. Clearly I'm in the mood for messy friend groups because I’m into the drama of all these college kids creating a club based on feeling like outcasts and then creating these ridiculous unhealthy rules that guarantee drama. That said, the trailer made it seem like it wouldn't necessarily be well written. But it could also just be the way it was summarized and edited for a 3 minute pitch, so I will keep an open mind on this one too. I can't even tell if there will be any queer story lines in it, but either way I'm intrigued enough to check it out when/if it's released.

The Jungle: The trailer doesn't have subtitles yet so I'm confused about what's going on. Some sort of glamorous gang or something? It does not seem to be any sort of romance, queer or het, at least. That said, it looks very glamorous and "edgy" and dramatic and I am cautiously intrigued. As I said, I'm in the mood for mess. Plus Off and Nanon!

Enigma: The trailer did intrigue, even though I'm a bit of a scardy-cat about supernatural horror type stuff recently. I can't tell if it's going to be het romance or if that dude is going to be the bad guy, but the trailer did get me curious about him and this whole world.I may end up watching it.

Midnight Museum: The trader seems very much a promo sort of thing so I'm not drawing any conclusions from its vibe (which honestly feels pretty amateurish). I haven't been that into mystery type stuff recently (is it also kind of horror? supernatural? I'm not sure) but if I am in the mood if/when it actually comes out I might try it.

Double Savage: Mostly I was confused by the trailer. It neither appealed nor turned me off. Really I just have no thoughts on this one at all yet.

#gmmtv 2023 #i have so many things i should be doing but i wrote this instead #thai bl #thai gl #thai drama #thai ql #upcoming ql #upcoming bl #upcoming gl

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worst-family-heirloom · 12 days ago

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Bread is Life

Bread is life, my religion teachers and the priest say. Or something like that. “This is my body. Partake of it.”

I can’t remember how old I was the year my mom decided I was too chubby to eat bread. Seven? I was older than five, because it was after we moved.

This is my body. Whittle it down.

I had to eat rice cakes and meal replacement shakes instead.

To this day, I cannot articulate the loathing I have for meal replacement shakes to people who do not have the world’s worst family heirloom, even though when things are bad again, (because they do get bad again, as hard as I try to hang on with my now-harder fingernails to my grip on an existence where I can simply eat without a Rube-Goldbergesque process playing in my mind and on the kitchen floor) I think it would be nice to drink a big bottle of glorified chocolate milk and go “eh, close enough” and then crawl back into bed.

Instead, I simply cannot let it get that bad again. I live in an apartment now, and I think every pizza place in this country that I know of is on the boycott listen. Israel is committing genocide; the least I can do, less than the least I can do, is manage to have it together enough not to do this.

Bread is life, says the priest.

At some point in grade school (so, relatively little, sixth grade, I think, but apparently not little enough) I am picked to read a catechism. I am questioning my faith, but my commitment to having my ego stroked is unquestionable. I say yes.

The priest invites me and the other kids to have cake with him when we talk in the church. I am the only one of the kids who says “no.”

I feel proud of myself. I also feel, vaguely, that something is wrong.

“What kind of kid says no to cake?” The kind who has such glaringly obvious anorexia, I wish someone had saved me.

One Valentine’s Day, my mother visits my class.

Something is so very wrong with me I end up doing jumping jacks in a supply closet in my little Catholic school I tell my mom I am embarrassed. She says I shouldn’t be, for burning it off, or wanting to. The sense that maybe something is wrong, very wrong, is stronger. I might have been younger. I can’t remember.

Maybe it is because we are in a supply closet, but I think it is more because

children are property, and no-one knows how to take me away, or where to put me.

This is OK. I am all grown up now, and no-one saved me. I cannot play this over and over and try to find the good path out without something like family abolition, and not even my OCD can try to find a way around that.

This is not a feel good story where I got better. I got better; and then I got sick in other, permanent ways. If you spend your childhood trying to be small in order to be treated like a human being worthy of connection, it turns out you will spend some of your adulthood this way too.

There is not an iteration of me who did not catch COVID, because that iteration of me had to be loved like a person and not an idea of one, and she does not exist.

My computer is broken. If it weren’t, I would probably be writing a Hazbin fanfic about cannibalism and transubstantiation for today, as I am, as a friend put it “entertainingly predictable.”

A man in holy robes says I am going to Hell for not loving right tells me bread is life, God is life, and I must eat His body. I am allowed to eat Him. It is my duty to eat Him. It is my privilege to eat Him.

And I’m supposed to be normal about that?

I left the Church and my mother, flat circles of Eucharists and rice cakes, first one and then the other, as I grew up.

I am allowed to grow sideways now too.

(This is not a mean joke in my mother’s house anymore. This is simply a fact of life in my apartment, where my posters and postcards cover the walls and I’m constantly cleaning chip debris from underfoot)

I don’t think there is anything holy about eating toast off paper plates in my flat, standing by the counter after smearing it in vegan pesto or cheese.

It’s just life.

#eating disorder recovery #eating disorders #Nom Nom November

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annwrites · 3 months ago

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⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part one. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: homelander comes to your college as a guest speaker. uninterested in him, or anyone of his ilk, you pay him no mind, while you're all he's able to focus on, due to your disrespect. with a bruised ego, he goes to the dean of the school afterward with a made-up tale about wanting to repay you for kind words & is then allowed to go through the student roster. that evening while making dinner, unexpected company arrives on your balcony, refusing to leave until they're let in.. · tags: oral (f receiving) · tw: non-con, misogyny, obsessiveness, stalking · word count: 2,857

You are the utter image of disrespect. Here he stands—Homelander—the savior of America, and there you sit in your seat staring down at a tablet. Doing, presumably, schoolwork.

Every pair of eyes is on him except yours. As if some goddamn essay or worksheet is more important than him and the wisdom—scripted or otherwise—he has to bestow upon all your young, moronic minds.

And when he closes his speech—your classmates immediately swarm, eager for ‘selfies’, and autographs, and to ask ignorant questions.

But you? You’re the first one out of the goddamn room.

You don’t even spare him a glance.

He makes up a story, which he feeds to your university’s dean, and he drinks it down like the smoothest cup of milk.

“I didn’t manage to get her name, but I’m sure if I look through your student roster that I’ll be able to identify her. It’s just that what she said…” He gives a dramatic pause, a melancholic smile, with a small shake of his head. “It went straight to the heart. So, I’d just like to send her something to say thank you, since I most unfortunately didn’t get that opportunity today. Maybe an edible arrangement, or a new computer for her important academic pursuits.”

There’s a loud thump on your balcony and you jolt, nearly dropping the spatula in your now-shaking hand.

You set it down upon the spoon rest, grabbing a knife instead, and with a pounding heart, and trembling limbs, step to the side—toward the glass doors of your balcony and the knife slips from your hand, clattering against the hardwood floor.

On the other side stands Homelander, a sinister smile on his face, his knuckles rapping against the glass, an expectant look in his eyes.

Your mind detaches from your body as it begins to race.

You’re hallucinating. You’d bought a new bottle of seasoning from the grocery store down the street for dinner tonight. Maybe you were having a reaction to it. Or maybe he really is here and he needs help. He doesn’t get hurt, though, does he? You don’t know much about him, in truth. He’d been at your college this morning. Does him being here now having something to do with that? You’d not spoken to or even acknowledged him, so how could it?

Does it have to do with Emma, then? She worships the ground he walks on—had apparently been one of the first people to ask for his autograph this morning, from what she’d told you. Maybe he’s looking for her? But she doesn’t live with you…

You turn the lock, then the handle, and you stare up at him. “H-Homelander?”

It feels pathetic to call him that. Some manufactured name that you’re sure a marketing department came up with so many years ago, but no one knows his real one. As if that’s not another measured choice made by Vought—someone learns it and then digging into his past begins. God forbid he’s no longer America’s plastic darling—an overgrown action figure. And he looks the part now just as much as he did this morning. Does he never get tired of the ridiculous costume?

“I came for an apology,” he states matter-of-factly, smile fading as he steps inside your apartment, staring down at you.

You shuffle back. “I—uh—how—”

“See,” he starts, raising a finger, wagging it at you like you’re a petulant child that’s about to receive a lecture. “I take precious time out of my day—we both know how important my time is. I mean…it’s far more valuable as compared to someone like yours—someone inconsequential and worthless, that is—to come to your little ‘institution’ of academics to bestow wisdom upon all of you morons, and instead of you giving me the respect I’m owed, you couldn’t be bothered to so much as look in my general direction.”

You merely stare up at him in fear, your heart hammering away—the sound causing his lip to twitch in satisfaction.

“Are you fucking stupid?” He asks lowly.

“Speak!” He shouts.

You jump. “I—I’m sorry?”

He purses his lips, shaking his head. “Mm, see, that wasn’t very convincing.”

He takes another step toward you, then another and another, while you stutter and shuffle your feet, desperate to back away from him, until you’re pinned between his broad frame and a kitchen counter.

He takes your face in his solid grip, squeezing your cheeks so hard that it hurts. If he wanted to pop your head like a cherry tomato right now…he could.

You fear that you may loose your bladder at the thought.

“Did mommy and daddy not teach their little girl respect?” He asks with a raised brow.

You continue to stare in terror.

He shrugs, brushing his gloved thumb over your lower lip. “I could always just make you get on your knees. To either suck me off or lick my boots. Maybe both,” he finishes with a grin.

You shouldn’t be surprised by this. In truth, you half are and aren’t. They’re all egotistical monsters. The smiles and kissing babies and playing the hero on live TV is all an act. This is the real him.

Not a hero. A villain.

And he wants to know why you didn’t give him an ounce of your attention, as if it should be some great mystery.

“I—I’m not doing that. I don’t…I don’t understand why you even care. What… Why you’re here, I mean. How you even—”

He sneers. “Do you not like me? I’m a fucking hero! I am the face of this country. Yet you treat me like any other insignificant schmuck on the street. I deserve some goddamn respect!”

Tears sting your wide eyes. “I dislike all celebrities the same. Please, just—”

He raises a brow. “I am not just some ‘celebrity’. I protect you. I look out for you. And this is the thanks I get for it? Some sniveling little bitc—”

It’s just then that you remember.

You shove him away from you, flipping the stove off, your burger now just a hunk of charcoal.

You throw the pan into the sink, turning the faucet on and steam begins to rise as the pan sizzles.

You groan in irritation, shoulders slumping forward.

“That was my dinner,” you mumble.

Homelander smirks. “Y’know what? That does seem like a good start at fixing things between the two of us. You can have the honor of making me dinner. Maybe we play house for the evening.”

You turn back around with furrowed brows, sure that he must be joking. This entire experience feels like a bad trip. You have the world’s strongest—most famous, even—man in your apartment whining over hurt feelings and asking you to make him dinner like you’re some obedient little housewife.

He takes a step closer.

“Go on, start cooking. Before I make you,” he says, tone low and threatening.

Your eyes flit between his for just a moment before you turn slowly back around, turning the burner back on, having no idea what to even prepare for him.

That’d been the last of your hamburger meat…

You glance to your bread box, while Homelander seats himself comfortably at your small dining table.

“How does a grilled cheese sandwich sound?”

He’s pleased with that offer—something a mother would make for her little one, he thinks.

“I’ll take two,” he replies with a chipper tune.

You nod, retrieving a plate from a cabinet, then open the fridge to grab a small tub of butter.

“I’d like a glass of milk,” he says, interrupting you.

You grab the jug, pouring him a glass as requested.

Your hand shakes as you hold it toward him, but he merely takes it from you with a smile. “Thank you, sweetie.”

You stay quiet, turning back to the stove, Homelander watching your every move.

“Would you mind cutting the crusts off?”

You do as he’s asked without complaint, even if he’s being utterly juvenile right now.

He’s just trying to get under your skin, you’re sure. He’ll eat the sandwiches, then go. And the only time you’ll ever see him again will be on TV. Like normal.

Maybe it’s not such a good thing that he knows where you live now…

You grab the edge of the plate and he speaks again. “And can you cut them each into triangles?”

You raise a brow, but he can’t see it with your back still turned.

“I always thought that was so…charming,” he says with a grin.

So the God of America is a giant manchild, it turns out. Great.

You finally turn around, settling the plate in front of him and then he holds his empty glass toward you.

You give him a refill, silently sliding it back to him, seating yourself across from him.

You fold your hands nervously in your lap.

“Just going to sit there and watch me eat?” He asks, taking his first bite.

You swallow thickly. “I’m…not hungry anymore.”

He leans back, chewing, then swallowing. “What’re you in school for, then?”

This entire experience feels completely surreal. You’re sure at any moment you’ll wake up.

Wait.

What if you have a gas leak? Your stove is electric, but this apartment complex probably has a gas line somewhere, right? You make a mental note to check on that later.

“Creative writing,” you reply quietly.

Not even you could’ve crafted a story this ridiculous and far-fetched.

“Read me something you’ve written.”

You shift uncomfortably and he notes your heart skipping a beat. You’re insecure about it—the things you create. He relates to that—being insecure about that which you’re most passionate about. How strange a dichotomy it is.

“I don’t…I don’t want to.”

He leans in toward you. “Well, it’s either that, or, once I’m done with my dinner, I carry you over to your bed and have my way with you. Whether you want to or not.”

He can’t possibly be serious. He’s not…he’s a not a rapist. Right? Then again…he’d already threatened to force you onto your knees.

You stand, padding across the room and retrieve your laptop from atop your bed—swiping tears from your eyes—returning to him.

You turn it on and begin browsing through your documents—trying to find one that’s both innocuous, but interesting enough.

And then he shakes his head. “Nope. Give it here. I get to choose which one,” he says, motioning for the device with his hand.

You do as instructed and begin to feel just a tad nauseated as you watch him peruse your computer for a story.

And then he smirks, clicking, turning it back to you.

Blood rushes to your face.

He takes another bite of his sandwich, then a sip of his milk. “Go on then. Almost done. Or don’t. I win either way,” he says with a slight shrug, taking another bite.

He had to choose the one document that is a story of pure smut.

You clear your throat nervously, knowing you have no other choice. Fighting against him would be futile. Him overpowering you would take no effort on his part whatsoever. You’re sure that’s what he wants anyway. And you’re not about to just hand yourself over to him.

This embarrassment will be temporary.

The memory of him…you'd never forget. Nor would you ever be able to tell.

“He—” you pause, sighing, straightening your spine, then tell yourself just to get through it.

You’re not the first person to have ever written a sex scene before.

“He eases her slender legs over his shoulders, kissing her inner thighs gently, enjoying the lovely sounds that slip from her beautiful lips, begging for him. Her lover, her soulmate, her entire world—wishing for the two of them to finally be joined as one in this final way. And then he kisses her lips—her most intimate ones.”

John’s lip twitches. Not just at the mortified look upon your adorable face, but the delicious fucking smell of your arousal.

He wonders if the story is written as mere fantasy or from memory.

He intends to find out.

Tonight.

You gently take Homelander’s empty plate from him, your face flushed—now slick between your thighs—but you stay quiet, feeling humiliated. You want him to leave. Want to never see him again.

You’ve never felt so disrespected.

But that had been the point, hadn’t it? To make you feel how he thinks you made him feel that morning.

You hate him.

And now you’ll have to live with this. Knowing what he’s really like, and unable to tell anyone while the rest of the country—the world—continues to worship at his altar that’s built upon countless lies.

You put his plate in the dishwasher, then his glass, and it’s when you straighten that you feel large hands coming to rest firmly atop your shoulders.

You freeze, heartrate quickening once again.

His gloved hands then slide down your arms and your chin wobbles.

“So, was it just fantasy, or reality?”

Your brows furrow. “W—what?”

“The story. I’m asking if you’ve ever done that before.”

You swallow nervously. “I—no. I haven’t.”

His cock hardens, a feeling of satisfaction filling him at your pleasing answer.

He takes your breasts in each of his hands then, gently kneading them.

You swing around, a tear slipping down your cheek. “You can’t—”

He wraps a hand firmly around your throat, cutting your protests short.

“Oh, honey,” he says, stepping closer, his erection pressing against your upset stomach. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

He grins. “And I think you’re going to like it.”

He leans down, crushing his lips to yours, forcing your mouth open and he plunges his tongue inside, making you gag on it.

He slips his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you onto the kitchen counter, gripping the waistband of your shorts, as well as your panties, and he pulls them both down your legs in one fell swoop, ignoring your mewls and squeals of protest.

You shove against his chest, panicking, ready to begin screaming, until he pulls back—his eyes going bright red, tightening his hold around your throat. “Hold the fuck still or I’ll kill you right here and now, sweetheart.”

You stare at him for only a moment before nodding slightly.

He releases his hold around your neck and you gingerly wrap your own hand around it.

And then he kneels, gripping your hips, grinning up at you, even winking and then he shoves his face between your thighs, throwing your calves over his shoulders.

You sit there in complete shock for only a moment before he begins lapping at you with his tongue, spreading your labia with his fingers, flicking his speared tip against your clit and then your body jerks and you draw in a ragged breath, slamming your head back against the cabinet behind you.

He smirks between your legs, doing it again, and you moan quietly.

You’re supposed to be fighting back—should be jumping off this counter and running out the door and screaming rape.

But you can’t. Not unless you want to die.

So this is your only choice. To sit on this counter and wait for him to finish. But he won’t be finished until you are, will he?

And the fact he’s recreating what was in your story—the fact that he’s on his knees giving you oral…oh dear God this situation is a nightmare.

Or so you think, until he begins sucking on your clit and your eyes go wide and your breaths become shallow.

You tangle your fingers in his hair then, unable to help yourself as you pull him closer and he moans into your slick, hot core.

He’s utterly satisfied with the fact you’re dripping for him, desperate for more. For him.

He flicks his tongue, spells his goddamn name—his real name—marking you as his. Even if you don’t fucking know it yet…you will be. His. You belong to him. So help him God if you even think about talking to another man at your little school after this he’ll laser him in half while you watch.

“Oh God,” you whisper and he knows you’re close when your heartrate begins to climb impossibly higher—fluttering like a hummingbird—fingers tightening in his blond strands.

He kisses your cunt, flicks his tongue, fucks you with it—spells the word ‘mine’, and it’s as he finishes his ‘e’ that you begin to cry, your hips squirming beneath his grip as you orgasm right against his mouth, his tongue lodged firmly between your pulsating walls.

And then he stands—eyes trailing along your flushed cheeks and neck and chest, your eyes hooded, limbs relaxed, and your legs still spread wide—the counter, your thighs, and his face are all slick from your arousal.

He crushes his lips back to yours one last time, letting you taste your own sweet American honey before he pulls away, lips hovering over yours as he smirks.

“Now we’re even,” he mutters.

He heads back toward the balcony.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he throws over his shoulder before launching into the sky, leaving you sitting there half-naked and ashamed of yourself, tears gathering in your eyes as you begin to sob.

#fic: the boys (homelander x reader)#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander x oc #the boys x reader #the boys x y/n

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ridedatbull · 1 year ago

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Imma infodump real quick because this has been bubbling in me and holy crap I can’t believe people care!

First off, I’m gonna preface by saying I’m just a Tauros rancher. Been one all my life, my family has been doing it in the traditional Johto fashion for… I dunno how long exactly, but a while. My only real scientific know how comes from old schooling and documentaries about fossils. Everyone had that phase right? Anyway…

So Tauros are pretty neat. Hoof to horn to tail they are the coolest. But they’re also kinda weird. They’re one of those weird mons that have a strange sexual dimorphism thing with another ‘species,’ aka Miltank. But actually they are technically the same. And yet, they are so physically different. Why?

Let’s start with their history. Bovine Pokémon were some of the first to be considered ‘domesticated,’ domesticated here meaning more willing to work with humans than most for one reason or another way back in the day. Hisui era type stuff. There are some who suggest that Tauros and Miltank looked much more alike in that time, or that they had a pre-evolution that branched depending on the sex like Ralts or Snorunt, but no proper records seem to have survived that prove either of these theories.

All we really have are old tales passed down by ranchers generation after generation. And anyone familiar with oral histories will know how messy that can get in terms of getting facts straight. My Pa and his Pa before him both told me stories of a time when Miltank looked very different, much more similar to their male counterparts in body structure and ferocity. At the same time, Tauros were also even more wild. The better to battle each other over mates and fend off the far more ferocious predators of their era. Neither Pa nor Grandpa ever actually saw these differences. Nor apparently did my great grandpa. But for a story to last even that long, surely there has to be something to it right?

As they tell it, Tauros and Miltank eventually decided that humans weren’t so bad. We could grow amazing food, build reliable shelter, and make a good racket if something threatening comes around. A lot of canine Pokémon had already figured out that we were willing to share the spoils for a few favors, so y’know, why not also try to get in on that?

Tauros were great at helping plow the fields to make even more food for everyone. Miltank was able to, of course, give milk as additional food so young children wouldn’t starve. Who’s idea it was to start that particular arrangement is anyone’s guess. That part of the story hasn’t survived in detail, but I believe it may have been the Miltank?

Anyways, outside of hard labor, meat was the only other thing humans could really do with the male Tauros at the time outside of the standard Pokemon Partner relationship. Miltank was more valuable as they could produce more without the need for a butcher. So as with many other living things, selective breeding happened. Both Pokémon were bred to be less temperamental, especially Miltank, though it’s never fully worked on Tauros.

Miltank were bred to have shorter legs, the harder to escape with. Smaller bodies, the easier to house in a barn. Gentler dispositions, the more willing to share their milk without a struggle. Somehow a degree of bipedalism became a side effect of all this. No one really knows how that part happened. Maybe an added cute factor? But that’s just my own speculation. More likely it’s so their teats don’t scrape the ground because… ouch.

Regardless, all those small changes resulted eventually in the Miltank and Tauros we all know of today. Put them in a field together, and they can still make more of themselves in the *ahem* ‘old fashioned way.’ More than that, they are always fully comfortable with each other, differences and all. Like nothing ever really changed between them after all this time.

Sometimes I think about all this and wonder what those ancient Tauros and Miltank were like. I wonder if Miltank could ever be restored to their original form. I wonder if they would want to. I wonder if either ‘species’ would have chosen to be our friends if they knew how it would change them.

Not that that really matters in the here and now. We’ve all become so intertwined as species that separating at this point would only hurt everyone involved. Sure there are plenty of wild herds as well, but even they carry the marks of what we humans have done.

I guess what I’m saying is, if we really are responsible for changing them, then we must also be responsible for continuing to care for them where we can. Sorry to get all philosophical suddenly, this stuff just kinda raises those questions. All I know for sure is I’m gonna keep doing what I do to raise and care for these beautiful Pokémon for all my days. And someday maybe I’ll pass this story to my own kids.

#pokeblogging #pokemon #oc #headcanon #in character

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melaniemartinezshop · 1 year ago

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Melanie Martinez: An Unbounded Creativity in Music and Art

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conclude

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#melaniemartinez

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jrhughes · 1 year ago

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God Judges the World

(Sunday, May 28th, 2023 A.D.)

Genesis 7:10-24

Golden Text: 1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. 2) And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. Genesis1: 1-2

11 In the six hundredth year of Noah's life, in the second month, the seventeenth day of the month, the same day were all the fountains of the great deep broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened. 12 And the rain was upon the earth forty days and forty nights. ... 21 And all flesh died that moved upon the earth, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of beast, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth, and every man: 22 All in whose nostrils was the breath of life, of all that was in the dry land, died.- Genesis 7:11-12, 21-22

Look at the verses just above. In Genesis 1:1-2 God reports a “once in an eternity” miracle took place, when God created the Heaven and Earth. When God created Earth, it was covered by water. The word deep found in Genesis 1:2 is defined: Strong: H8415 1) deep, depths, deep places, abyss, the deep, sea; 1a) deep (of subterranean waters); 1b) deep, sea, abysses (of sea); 1c) primeval ocean, deep. There most of the subterranean waters stayed until the world wide flood. Then God unleashed them. These were the fountains of the great deep, that were broken up. Waters covered the Earth.

Earth is again to be covered by water with this world wide flood of Judgment, covered with water, as it was in the beginning. God here begins the second creation of mankind and the animals through their kinds. But is this a cleansing? The people and all the animals were all selected by God. Noah and his family who (although not sinless) obeyed and trusted and believed God. Every one of the animal inhabitants on the Ark was directed there by God.

The moving picture sermon: Many people have been indoctrinated to believe God’s Bible is partly in error (part a lie) they believe that these men of Noah’s day were crude men in skins, with perhaps stone or maybe a few iron tools. But, for those who believe God and His Bible, we see in Genesis, Chapter 4:21-22 that men had by then made musical instruments and were metal craftsmen working in brass and iron. Brass means copper and a copper alloy or a combining of copper and another metal (usually zinc or tin) to make bronze. To obtain copper and zinc we must know how to mine things from the ground. Brass needs a process of smelting (melting the two ores and combining them) the heat needed would have to be sufficient to melt copper (19850 F) and zinc (7880 F).

This kind of technology that could make flutes, harps, lyres and smelt copper would have to be much more advanced than your biology teacher was told to tell you. These are the men who watched the events unfold as the last preparations were made. They apparently went in for awhile, but also came out as they loaded provisions and animals on the last day before the deluge.

Perhaps it was like a new barn or milking parlor where the animals got used to it, but went outside during the day to eat and take care of other biological functions. But can you imagine enough animals and birds to fill up a three story building where the floors could have been as much as 15 feet high or higher if the upper floors were not as tall. The ark was almost a city block long (a football field and one half) and it was as wide as one half a football field and it was forty five feet tall.

Perspective: Today with floors of ten feet that Ark would be taller than most four story buildings and it would be longer and wider than good sized three story motels.

There were seven sets of what we call clean animals (ceremonially pure with no blemish or fault from their type or kind of animal). They went in, the male and the female, as God had commanded. What a living moving picture that had to be of the thousands of animals, for the unsaved men of earth. What were they thinking?

From Where Did All The Water Come? This time God also used some of the same waters that were in the Earth: fountains of the great deep, some that were above the Earth: firmament (windows of heaven). In addition God caused it to rain on the Earth for forty (40) days and forty (40) nights. Was this a cleansing of the unclean Earth? Was the flood real, did it actually happen? Consider this evidence.

When the Bible refers to a worldwide Flood in Genesis 7–8, that’s exactly what it means. Not local, not metaphorical, not some crazy dream—the waters covered the whole earth. Don’t just take our word for it, though. Take a look at the evidence right beneath your feet.

Evidence 1: Fossils of sea creatures high above sea level due to the ocean waters having flooded over the continents

We find fossils of sea creatures in rock layers that cover all the continents. For example, most of the rock layers in the walls of Grand Canyon (more than a mile above sea level) contain marine fossils. Fossilized shellfish are even found in the Himalayas.

Evidence 2: Rapid burial of plants and animals

We find extensive fossil “graveyards” and exquisitely preserved fossils. For example, billions of nautiloid fossils are found in a layer within the Redwall Limestone of Grand Canyon. This layer was deposited catastrophically by a massive flow of sediment (mostly lime sand). The chalk and coal beds of Europe and the United States, and the fish, ichthyosaurs, insects, and other fossils all around the world, testify of catastrophic destruction and burial.

Evidence 3: Rapidly deposited sediment layers spread across vast areas

We find rock layers that can be traced all the way across continents—even between continents—and physical features in those strata indicate they were deposited rapidly. For example, the Tapeats Sandstone and Redwall Limestone of Grand Canyon can be traced across the entire United States, up into Canada, and even across the Atlantic Ocean to England. The chalk beds of England (the white cliffs of Dover) can be traced across Europe into the Middle East and are also found in the Midwest of the United States and in Western Australia. Inclined (sloping) layers within the Coconino Sandstone of Grand Canyon are testimony to 10,000 cubic miles of sand being deposited by huge water currents within days.

Wikipedia, while not sure the world wide flood happened, does offer:

The story of the flood takes up chapters 6–9 of the Book of Genesis, the first book of the Bible. Ten generations after the creation of Adam God saw that the earth was corrupt and filled with violence, and He decided to destroy what He had created. But God found one righteous man, Noah, and to him He confided His intention: "I Am about to bring on the Flood ... to eliminate everywhere all flesh in which there is the breath of life ... ." So God instructed him to build an ark (in Hebrew, a chest or box), and Noah entered the ark in his six hundredth year, and on the 17th day of the second month of that year "the fountains of the Great Deep burst apart and the floodgates of heaven broke open" and rain fell for forty days and forty nights until the highest mountains were covered to a depth of 15 cubits, and all life perished except Noah and those with him in the Ark. After 150 days, "God remembered Noah ... and the waters subsided" until the Ark rested on the mountains of Ararat, and on the 27th day of the second month of Noah's six hundred and first year the earth was dry. Then Noah built an altar and made a sacrifice, and God made a covenant with Noah that man would be allowed to eat every living thing but not its blood, and that God would never again destroy all life by a flood.

MESSAGE TEXT: - Genesis 7:10-24

10 And it came to pass after seven days, that the waters of the flood were upon the earth.

After seven days, that the waters of the flood were upon the earth. So, the loading process must not have taken that long. It was accomplished and the animals and fowls all had their places and most likely bedded down and became familiar with their places. AND after seven days from when God had warned them to get on board the Ark as the rain was coming, God kept His Word. It began to rain: the waters of the flood were upon the earth. ~ Now all the people, the scoffers, those who laughed at Noah as he and his family were preparing their Ark because Noah believed God, also now believed. The people who did not believe God were now seeing Noah had been right. Noah had tried to warn them. Are you ready for His second coming of our Lord? Or are you like the pre flood mockers who ridiculed the plan of God? They were wrong about the Judgment of God. How about you? Are you wrong about the soon return of Jesus?

The call to Noah is very kind, like that of a tender father to his children to come in-doors when he sees night or a storm coming. Noah did not go into the ark till God bade him, though he knew it was to be his place of refuge. It is very comfortable to see God going before us in every step we take. Noah had taken a great deal of pains to build the ark, and now he was himself kept alive in it. What we do in obedience to the command of God, and in faith, we ourselves shall certainly have the comfort of, first or last. This call to Noah reminds us of the call the gospel gives to poor sinners. Christ is an ark, in whom alone we can be safe, when death and judgment approach. The word says, "Come;" ministers say, "Come;" the Spirit says, "Come, come into the ark." Noah was accounted righteous, not for his own righteousness, but as an heir of the righteousness which is by faith, (Hebrews 11:7). - Matthew Henry 1710

In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life. Now we have a precise length of time being set out. It was in the 600th year, the 2nd month, and 17th day. This was one hundred years after Noah and his wife began to have sons. Those sons were fully grown and had taken wives.

In the second month, the seventeenth day of the month were all the fountains of the great deep broken up. Springs of water of the great deep (deep 1a> (subterranean waters) 1b> deep, sea, abysses <of sea>) were broken up (split, cleave, break open, divide, rip up). The same day were all the fountains of the great deep - i.e. the waters of the ocean (Job 38:16, 30; Job 41:31; Psalm 106:9) and of subterranean reservoirs (Job 28:4, 10; Psalm 33:7; Deuteronomy 8:7) - broken up. "

And the windows of heaven were opened. And as if waters shooting up from the cracks in the earth, was not enough the windows (openings) of heaven (sky, visible heavens, 1a1>abode of the stars) opened (to open, be let loose, be thrown open). Also the rain came.

The rain was upon the Earth forty days and forty nights. And it was not just a shower. It was not just rainfall. Rain came down for forty days and forty nights. It was non stop rain.

13 In the selfsame day entered Noah, and Shem, and Ham, and Japheth, the sons of Noah, and Noah's wife, and the three wives of his sons with them, into the ark;

In the self same day, Noah and his family Shem, Ham and Japheth and their wives come into the Ark. WE are not sure if God spoke to all in the family or just to Noah, we do know that they all regarded it as the Word of God and they obeyed as the rain was falling and waters were coming from below and above. For those outside the Ark, they must have begun to realize that Noah had been telling them the truth. This was a storm of epic proportions that no one had ever seen or imagined. It was, I suppose, very frightening to now know that it was too late. The time had come. God had now judged the world. The Bible tells us:

27 And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment: 28 So Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many; and unto them that look for Him shall He appear the second time without sin unto salvation. - Hebrews 9:27-28

There is another judgment coming. Are you ready to meet your Lord? Do not fail to be ready or you will face the Judgment of God. Christ died to pay your sin debt, your death penalty has been paid. Have you received Him and His death in your place? He shall appear the second time. Will He be your judge or is HE your Savior?

(The flood waters were on the earth until the 601st year, the 2nd month, 27th day the earth was dried up. So the flood experience lasted one year and ten days).

14 They, and every beast after his kind, and all the cattle after their kind, and every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth after his kind, and every fowl after his kind, every bird of every sort.

Every beast after his kind. Verse 14 tells us only kinds of beasts (living creatures) went onto the Ark. And all cattle (collective: livestock, cattle, goats, sheep, etc.). As to kinds, thus you would not have 250 breeds of dogs, but only two of the dog kinds. The kind is a type of animal of the dog type and may well include the coyote and wolf as both of those have bred domestic dogs and resulted in healthy offspring.

Every creeping thing, and every fowl. And for some to say ‘the ark was not big enough,’ if they are sincere, they are not thinking. The Ark was 300 cubits long, 50 cubits wide, and 30 cubits high. A cubit was then both said to be 18" and 24" (the latter was the Egyptian cubit). 300 cubits would be, at the least, 450 feet or if Egyptian measurement 600 feet long. There was no rush in building the ark. God could have made it three blocks or a mile long. But we believe that if it were the shorter 450 feet long, thousands of animal kinds could have fit aboard this the ark. This ark was going to be sufficient to hold all the “kinds” of animals “wherein is the breath of life.”

Every bird of every sort. Fowls after its kind. Flying things, such as birds and other things that fly in the air. We already have discussed insects and how they may well have survived outside the ark. Bird in the Hebrew means bird, but remember again it had to do with kinds not individual species.

There were to come in two by two. But there were to be seven sets of clean animals (ceremonially pure with no blemish or fault for their kind of animal) and of the other animal kinds only two, the male and his female.

15 And they went in unto Noah into the ark, two and two of all flesh, wherein is the breath of life. 16 And they that went in, went in male and female of all flesh, as God had commanded him: and the LORD shut him in.

They went in unto Noah into the ark. They (the animals and others) went in, the male and the female, as God had commanded. NOTICE: Noah and family would not have to go round them up. They came as directed by God. There were clean, ceremonial and also non ceremonial animals, but they all had a purpose, they obeyed God. They would repopulate the Earth. Some were scavengers, who eat dead things to keep the land free of rotting flesh. Some could go for long periods without water. They all had a purpose. The same was true of flying things. There were bees for honey. There were bats to clean up annoying insects at night. Hummingbirds to carry out pollination. They all went in two and two. They went in where Noah and his family had prepared the ark (as God instructed). And as God had warned, the flood was upon them. Perhaps more than one billion people were on earth. They saw the waters of the flood coming upon the earth: rain, fountains of the deep, eruptions, the collapse of overhead waters from the canopy above. Man watched. It was too late. No longer would God strive with man.

God shut the door of the ark. God shut the saved in and the unbelievers God shut out. It was the beginning of a new earth, a new population. Does that remind you of the contrast between those who have new life in Christ Jesus and the lost?

16 For God so loved the world, that He gave His Only Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. 17 For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through Him might be saved. 18 He that believeth on Him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the Name of the Only Begotten Son of God. 19 And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. - John 3:16-19

Those who do not believe, those who loved to stay in the darkness and corruption of this world are already condemned. They (you) who do not have the Son of God as the Lord of their individual life are condemned already. You (they) will be shut out as were the unbelievers in the days of Noah.

17 And the flood was forty days upon the earth; and the waters increased, and bare up the ark, and it was lift up above the earth.

DESTRUCTION & DEATH: The flood was upon the earth as the earth fractured and cracked open to release the great fountains of the deep. There was an immediate, immense world wide flooding as tons of water came from inside the earth, from fountains erupting from the great deep (which God [who foreknows everything] had prepared for this use when HE created Earth]). Huge, powerful stratosphere-reaching geysers of scalding hot water must have shot up from the fractured earth. The inside of the Earth is full of magma. The heat is intense. The heat will kill all life. When this happened, mountain tops became uncapped. Volcanic magma spewed out for miles and miles. Earthquakes and landslides caused more death and destruction.

Remember the 1980 Mt. St. Helen volcanic eruption leveled a huge amount of trees (tens of thousands). All life that stood in front of the volcanic eruption died. New rivers and new canyons formed. Multiply that by hundreds, at the least. Yes, that fracture would have triggered thousands of powerful earth shaking, volcanic, disintegrating, vaporizing blasts. Hot molten magma (liquid rocks) at 20000F spewed out.

Each volcanic explosion would carry the strength of an atomic bomb (as did Mt. St. Helen) with all of its latent destruction. Enormous, property- crushing, people killing all in their path. The land slides would continue on and smother all in their path, man animal, all. There would be gigantic, out-of-control tidal waves in the Ocean. There would have been vicious, building pulverizing and animal man drowning floods. Every man, (except Noah and his family) every animal and every fowl (flying thing) not in the ark was destroyed or drowned.

If they had survived the initial flooding, other catastrophes that would be triggered by the earth fracturing would kill all in which was the breath of life.

After 40 days and nights of continual rain together with the fountains of the great deep opening, (and the heavenly canopy of water or ice falling) and the resultant destruction from the other catastrophes, the ark of God (the only place of safety on Earth) was floating on the top of the waters.

Commentators tell us that this cracking of the Earth is still seen in the ring of fire or ‘fault seams’ around the globe.

The waters increased, and bare up the ark, and it was lift up above the earth. BUT NOT THOSE IN THE ARK OF SAFETY. As the waters increased the waters lifted up the ark of safety. And the ark was lifted above the death and destruction taking place. (Like a rapture?)

18 And the waters prevailed, and were increased greatly upon the earth; and the ark went upon the face of the waters. 19 And the waters prevailed exceedingly upon the earth; and all the high hills, that were under the whole heaven, were covered. 20 Fifteen cubits upward did the waters prevail; and the mountains were covered.

And the waters prevailed, and were increased greatly upon the earth. The waters became so deep the highest hills and mountains were covered with 15 cubits or 22 ½ feet of water. NOTHING COULD HAVE LIVED. With these conditions prevailing, everything made of flesh, that had in them the breath of life (normally breathed through their nostrils) and all that lived on the dry earth died. This is how the whole population of man on earth (that would not repent) who would not listen to the preacher of righteousness, Noah, would die. Also, all land breathing animals and all the flying things were destroyed.

The ark went upon the face of the waters. And the ark of God safely floated.

21 And all flesh died that moved upon the earth, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of beast, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth, and every man: 22 All in whose nostrils was the breath of life, of all that was in the dry land, died.

And do you think the men and the animals died without a struggle? Most likely not. There must have been battles for the higher ground. It was the struggle for life and only the strongest would survive as they fought death. They undoubtably killed as they tried not to die. They fought. They most likely killed.

DEATH AND DESTRUCTION as has never been seen or imagined was taking place. They were very wise and may well have had all the types of weapons that we have. They fought over the high ground, they most likely fought over the food. Most of the people and animals who died would end up in the water. There the sea monsters, the large fish, the large mammals would have gorged themselves on the dead and dying flesh.

23 And every living substance was destroyed which was upon the face of the ground, both man, and cattle, and the creeping things, and the fowl of the heaven; and they were destroyed from the earth: and Noah only remained alive, and they that were with him in the ark. 24 And the waters prevailed upon the earth an hundred and fifty days.

Every living substance was destroyed which was upon the face of the ground. The miracle is two fold: supernatural destruction of all and the supernatural preservation of one man and his family who obeyed God. One family on the ark (of safety). The flood conditions and the resultant catastrophic events, the entire flood lasted upon the earth for 150 days (five months). Destruction and death as had never been seen before or since. The Great Tribulation will be no worse.

Note (1.) Desolating judgments come not till God has provided for the security of His own people; see Gen 19:22, I can do nothing till thou be come thither: and we find (Revelation 7:3) that the winds are held till the servants of God are sealed. (2.) When good men are removed judgments are not far off; for they are taken away from the evil to come, (Isaiah 57:1). When they are called into the chambers, hidden in the grave, hidden in heaven, then God is coming out of His place to punish, (Isaiah 26:20, 21).

Our Savior tells us that till the very day the flood came they were eating and drinking (Luke 17:26,27); they were drowned in security and sensuality before they were drowned in those waters, crying Peace, peace, to themselves, deaf and blind to all Divine warnings. Now they see and feel, and are convinced of their folly when it is too late; now they find no place for repentance, though they seek it carefully with tears. (2.) We may suppose that they tried all ways and means possible for their preservation, but all in vain. ...the flood reaches them, at last, and they are forced to die with the more deliberation. Thus it will be at the great day. Neither climbing high in an outward profession, nor claiming relation to good people, will bring men to heaven, (Matthew 7:22; Matthew 25:8, 9). Those that are not found in Christ, the Ark, are certainly undone, undone for ever;...(3.) Would it not be terrible if some of those that perished in the deluge had themselves assisted Noah, ... and yet were not so wise as by repentance to secure themselves a place in it. They may have been instrumental to help others to heaven, but themselves may have been thrust down to hell.

Let us now pause awhile and consider this tremendous judgment! Let our hearts meditate terror, the terror of this destruction. Let us see & say, It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God; who can stand before Him when He is angry? Let us see and say, It is an evil thing, and a bitter, to depart from God. – Matthew Henry 1710

PRAYER: Almighty God, I can but imagine the death and destruction of the world wide flood. But I know that since You sent Your Son to keep us out of hell and the lake of fire, they must be far worse. O God look upon my heart. It is weak, it is wicked, God have mercy upon me, a sinner. I confess that my sins are many and that only one is enough to place me in hell and later in the lake of fire. So, I beg of You have mercy upon me, a sinner. Please cleanse me. Forgive me, I pray. I need You every hour. I need You every minute. I need You every second. Protect me from all evil. HELP ME to be the kind of a person that You want and expect me to be. Strengthen me when I am tempted. Help me. Help me. Please help me. This I pray in the Name of the One Who died for me, my Lord and my Savior Jesus Christ, my Lord. AMEN and amen.

AS HE DIED TO MAKE MEN HOLY, SOME HAVE DIED TO KEEP US FREE. REMEMBER THE VETERANS WHO GAVE LIMB AND LIFE FOR YOU TO BE FREE IN THE GOD ORDAINED -USA

May God bless you in all that you do for Him,

Brother J.R. Soul winner, Bible teacher, Defender of the Faith

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