#omero talk

[omero-megane]

Me every time i flip my art just to judge and cringe how bad my art is and continue to die more as i fix it

[constancecontraire]

there are three possible meanings of this:

bertrand is NOT related to this story at all

bertrand WAS in fact adopted by orphaned siblings and named after their father (hence omeros thinking olaf was referring to him), but olaf was actually talking about ANOTHER baby with the exact same backstory

bertrand IS this baby and olaf was lying or misremembering

so like. what is the truth here. i would like to know

now what on earth are the implications of this exchange

[lamilanomagazine]

Ancona: il 20 giugno si celebra la giornata mondiale del rifugiato

Ancona: il 20 giugno si celebra la giornata mondiale del rifugiato.  Dal 20 giugno si celebra la Giornata Mondiale del rifugiato, l’appuntamento annuale sancito dall’Assemblea Generale delle Nazioni Unite per commemorare l'approvazione, nel 1951, della Convenzione relativa allo statuto dei rifugiati (Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees) da parte dell'ONU e per sensibilizzare l’opinione pubblica sulla condizione di oltre 70 milioni di rifugiati, richiedenti asilo e sfollati nel mondo che, costretti a fuggire da guerre e persecuzioni, lasciano i propri affetti, la propria casa e tutto ciò che un tempo era la loro vita per cercare salvezza altrove. Per celebrare la Giornata del Rifugiato anche quest'anno il Comune di Ancona ha realizzato, in stretta collaborazione con gli enti gestori del Progetto (Anolf Marche, Coos Marche, Polo 9, Vivere Verde onlus, Nuova Ricerca Agenzia Res, Cooperativa Lella 2001, Labirinto, Casa della Gioventù) e in condivisione con alcune Associazioni del territorio quali JA Italia,UNICEF, Medici Senza Frontiere, Caritas -Santissima Annunziata, Refugees Welcome, TerzaVia, UNHCR, Ass. MALTE, Amad, una serie di eventi di sensibilizzazione che si svolgeranno alla Mole Vanvitelliana dal 20 al 24 giugno. Il nutrito programma: martedì 20 giugno, Giornata Mondiale del rifugiato : Sala delle polveri ore 17.00 Saluti istituzionali Presentazione dei Progetti di Accoglienza SAI Ancona Città d’Asilo adulti e minori; ore 17.30 Presentazione della mostra videofotografica Multi Quotidiano a cura di Caterina Fattori - Progetto MSNA ore 18.00 "Di acqua e di terra. Migrazioni e altri movimenti conferenza" con Stefano Allievi, sociologo delle migrazioni ore 19:30 Intervento a cura dell’associazione AMAD ore 20.00 Aperitivo etnico. Modera e cura la comunicazione Giacomo Giampieri, giornalista ÈTv Marche. Presenti i banchetti informativi di JA Italia - UNICEF, Medici Senza Frontiere, Amnesty, AMAD, Refugees Welcome, TerzaVia, Still I rise Corte Mole Vanvitelliana ore 21.00 Concerto ANIMA EQUAL afrosoul - ingresso gratuito Mercoledì 21 giugno: Lazzabaretto ore 19.30 tavola rotonda “Esperienze di accoglienza in famiglia un nuovo modello di ospitalità per rifugiati, rifugiate e migranti” Intervengono le associazioni: AMAD, Caritas Ancona-Osimo, Refugees Welcome Italia, Terzavia modera UNHCR Giovedì 22 giugno: Museo Omero; ore 18.30 Cross-Talk: incontri di narrazione tra attori e culture diverse per interpretare il presente Progetto europeo Opportunities – Programma Horizon 2020 a cura di Polo9. SALA DELLE POLVERI ore 19.30 Presentazione del libro Le cicatrici del porto sicuro Il Gruppo Marche Still I Rise incontra l’autore Soumaila Diawara, in collaborazione con COOSS Marche Venerdì 23 giugno: Sala delle polveri ore 16.30: presentazione del libro "Donne d’Albania in Italia. Riflessioni, testimonianze, emozioni", incontro tra l’autore Rando Devole e le donne protagoniste di percorsi d’integrazione a cura dell’associazione ANOLF Marche e FAI CISL Marche. LAZZABARETTO ore 19.30 Apericena e accompagnamento musicale con FAMILJA ILJAZI, Balkan Mediterranean Sounds. ARENA CINEMA LAZZARETTO ore 21,30 proiezione del film Gli orsi non esistono di Jafar Panahi a cura di Amnesty International Sabato 24 giugno: Magazzino Tabacchi ore 18.30, Malte presenta "Mille e Uno, Thausend und Eine, Thousend and One" Laboratorio di elaborazione drammaturgica del gruppo di lavoro del progetto La Langue des Oiseaux: la migrazione tra metafore antiche e urgenze del presente. Lazzabaretto ore 19.30 con Riccardo Noury, portavoce nazionale Amnesty International Italia, presentazione del “Rapporto 2022-2023. La situazione dei diritti umani nel mondo” . Arena cinema Lazzabaretto ore 21.30 Proiezione del film "Trieste è bella di Notte" confronto dibattito con la partecipazione di Riccardo Noury e Roberto Scaini, medico e operatore umanitario di MSF a cura di Amnesty International e Medici Senza Frontiere.... #notizie #news #breakingnews #cronaca #politica #eventi #sport #moda Read the full article

[catboyfood]

owø

This blog is mostly a way for me to neatly organize everything I’ve written down for Retina Display so far, an adult comic I’m working on that should be around 50~ pages. Not like, gigantic but longer than any of my other stand alones so far.

Would you like to know more?

The Pitch: Model employee and interstellar immigrant Casper Xarcadian has finally got a working beta of Polyphemus, a prosthetic eye that links up with the user’s optic nerves. It’s time to record his vision for field testing, but he never expected his boss Johannes Smit to request a few eyewitness videos of his girlfriend, the much younger miss Girlee.

As if the spicy request wasn’t shocking enough, Casper realizes Girlee isn’t at all who Johannes thinks she is— for starters, Girlee isn’t human! Girlee’s advice is for Casper to mind his business, but how can he stay out of it when he’s got videos to record?

The Characters:

Johannes Smit, 68, Human Male:

Johannes is CEO of Smit-Saxony, a successful human biotechnology company stationed on the American space satellite city Freedom Eagle. Careful in words and appearances, he is vocal in his appreciation of Omerian math and very quiet about his appreciation of their ██████ ████. He is thin and has a cheerful face, always wears a suit and has neat white hair. Girlee is his girlfriend of three months. 

Casper Xarcadian, 33, Omerian Male B:

Polite, handsome, and modest, Casper is much loved by his human coworkers at Smit-Saxony. When they talk about him they tell everyone how gentle and encouraging he is, surely it’s no mystery as to why he left a harsh place like Planet Omero. Casper lost his left eye during his escape from the Omerian Space Force. He has been obligingly testing the Polyphemus prosthetic on himself.

Girlee/█████, late 20’s, Omerian Male:

Lithe and beautifully androgynous, █████ is a self-described nihilist from an Omerian colony. He has more morals than he admits. █████’s transformation into human party girl Girlee doesn’t take much effort, the hardest part is tucking his floppy cat ears into his hair extensions. His favorite saying is “lighten up.” He insists he’s just a sugar baby, but what’s with the cross species cross dressing?

~ I explained the plot in more detail to my bf and he said it was a “slutty egg story” and tbh that fits pretty well. This one’s for trans people in any direction.

And if you’d like to read about zuck bezomusk getting cucked by two catboys in space, this is definitely the story for you.

[nothingbizzare]

Hstagafwwhsgsbsgsjvedauwtrwhsfta-

What !????

Why !??What!??Thanks !! @omero-megane

[dustteller]

Ok, I'm taking a short class with journalist Alma Guillermoprieto, and we actually discussed this phenomenon! We talked about how English language literature is very different from Latin American literature because it usually is set in a type of atemporality where the now is divorced from the past. LatAm literature, on the other hand, even the silly stuff, always feels like it has the full weight of history bearing down upon it, creating a far more wide spanning sense of time. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, of course, is the master of this concept. Even when our author write simpler,silly works, it feels like Latin Americans can not help but carry the chains of our history and attach them to our writing. The way that we interact with history has been so informed by our personal experience and our personal experience so stained by the past of our countries that it has become a part of us that we as individuals no longer know how to be less than a collective noun. We are compelled to write the history of our countries because it is the history of ourselves. It is why LatAm literature carries a richness of perspective behind it that has made it so popular arouns the world. We really are just kind abuilt diff tbh.

There are some english language authors that manage to capture the latin american sense of temporality. For example, there's Ray Bradbury, who I think comes quite close to this double-time phenomenon in his Martian Chronicles. There aren't a lot of english language authors that manage to do the same, though.

Except, that's not quite true. There aren't a lot of WHITE english language authors. I think the only other scholastic tradition in english that can challenge, and what's more, easily come toe-to-toe with the latin american sense of temporality is those authors who belong to the black writing tradition. People like Toni Morrison, Derek Walcott, and Chinua Achebe, who belong to a wide variety of national backgrounds, can more than easily match the intensity of Latin American temporality in literature. For example, Toni Morrison's Beloved plays with time in a manner similar to the beginning of A Hundred Years of Soliture, and one of the main themes of Derek Walcott's Omeros is the constant push and pull of time that moves like the ocean. I feel like Latin American authors are more often recognized for their achievements in regards to time in fiction, but I cannot aknowledge us without also aknowledging that this is a shared achievement with Black authors who do the same in english.

There's a lot I want to say about Latin America and Black solidarity, especially in the United States, but I will leave most of it for another post. What I will say is that this is only one of a myriad of things we share with each other, and honestly it shouldn't be a surprise that culturally both are deeply intertwined inside of the United States. With the 1920's migration to the cities by Black Americans and the influx of thousands upon thousands of Latin American immigrants during the 20th century into the same spaces, both cultures have blended together and bled into each other in such a way that it is now impossible to talk about one without the other in the confines of the United States. That is, of course, without even mentioning the racial overlap of both, with Afro-Latinos and mixed race latinos making up a significant percentage of both cultures. Basically, I just want to acknowledge these incredible authors bc it's not fair that we in LatAm get sole claim to this literary phenomenon when it also belongs to Black people as well.

And yes, we're both just built different :)

the way latinoamerican literature is billions of years ahead of anything ever written in english

[rapartisttalk]

Artist Talk #22 Omero über sein Label, Hayki, Spotify Playlisten, Werdeg...

[quiddity-jones]

TUNGSTEN CHEF SUBMISSION @cyberth0t *~ CHEF MARINA AMERETTO ~*

NAME: Marina Ameretto PRONOUNS: She/Her

HOME CITY: Del Sol Valley (Born in Florence, Italy and trained in Paris)

BACKGROUND: Chef Ameretto grew up in the shadow of her father, Omero Ameretto, the world-famous actor. After a brief and disastrous attempt to launch her as a child actor co-starring with her father in 'Padre Padrone,' at the tender age of 6, and a failed modelling career at 12, Marina finally found her true passion: cooking.

PERSONALITY: Marina believes in infusing her whole life with passion. She talks with her entire body and the force of her convictions, no matter how trivial the issue may seem on the surface. Her confidence can seem overwhelming and masks many of her insecurities.

ABILITIES

FOUNDATIONAL SKILLS: 3 SPEED: 3 STYLE: 4

[megarywrites]

👻🌙🌧️

thank you!!

👻 ghost | can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

do you mean my entire series? lmao that'd take too long, i can talk about some of the others tho I really think it'd be fun to do a fantasy murder mystery...like, Agatha Christie style. I've never written a murder mystery though but it is my favorite genre outside of fantasy so....someday... I've had this idea for a haunted circus that I'd love to weave into the framework of Dracrie someday...orginially I was gonna have be set in like 1910-1920 Coney Island, but I'd really like to have all of my books set in Dracrie so I'll just have to adapt it to fit Another idea that i would l o v e to write is about a creepy forest. I already have the perfect place in Dracrie for it (there's a rainforest in Woji that is chock-full of fantastical plants) so now I just have to conjure up a plot for it lol the last one I can think of atm is I'd love to do Jane Austen adaptations, but set in Jou'eou. it just sounds like a fun challenge, but who knows when the fuck I'll get to it lmao

🌙 moon | do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

for Seafoam, there are several lurking secrets, and they'll all get revealed in time, but I don't want to get too spoiler-y lol the ones who have the biggest secrets are Solera, Sosta, Geros, Cilia, and Omero, but where I am right now in the draft, only Omero's has been fully revealed (and dealt with)

🌧️ rain | share a sad or emotional scene from your wip!

okay this i have in spades for Seafoam lol this is from Chapter 2 Rocks jutted out of the sea, scattered a little ways out. Further than I had ever swam. Pa never let me go out too far without him. Said it was too dangerous. “Did—” I started to ask, my voice cracking in my throat. “Did anyone else get thrown overboard?”  Zeno was quiet for a moment. I didn’t look away from the furthest rock I could see. There was a little tree growing on it, despite the raging sea.  “No. Just your father.”  “Wasn’t there anything—” My throat tightened, speech becoming impossible. Zeno grabbed my hand in both of his, the rough calluses almost soothing, in a way. “Thala, I’m so sorry.” My head bowed, my shoulders shook as tears overcame me once more. The waves churned around me, around us. If it hadn’t been for Zeno pulling me into a tight embrace, I might have let the sea sweep me away. Carry me off to a distant land, where I would forget all about this pain.  In fact, I would have welcomed it.  His hands rested on my neck and back, holding me close. “It’ll be alright. I’m here.” He turned his head, pressing the lightest of kisses to my hair. “I’ve got you.”

send me autumn asks?

[bonvoyagenoona]

In the Margins (M) | 02: Spring

Word Count: 6123

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Genres: Writer AU / Writer!Yoongi / Editor!You / Editor!Reader / New Relationship / Fluff / Smut / Angst / Humor / Songfic (takes inspiration from Dear My Friend by Agust D)

Rating: 18+ / Explicit / Mature

Notes: If you’re into setting the mood, listen to Miles Davis’ “It Never Entered My Mind” when Yoongi turns on the radio (you’ll know when!).

In the Margins | Masterpost 

 In the Margins | Playlist 

02: Spring

When Namjoon calls you up on a Saturday and tells you that he needs something new to wear for a date, you squeal so loudly that you may have broken his phone.

“It looks so good on you,” you sigh. 

“Really?” Namjoon asks.

“Really.”

The dressing room mirror does no one any favors, but Namjoon doesn’t need them. He’s always been handsome, but he looks ravishing in the ensemble you’ve put together for him. The downturned corners of his mouth tell you that he’s unsure about the busy patterns and the tailored fit, but you’ve never steered him wrong. 

He tugs at his pant leg. 

“Your ass looks especially amazing,” you say objectively. 

Namjoon grins shyly and turns to see his reflection. “Yeah?”

The girl at the front of the shop smirks as Namjoon walks up to pay, still wearing the outfit. She hands him a bag, and he stuffs the nice but old button down shirt and jeans that he has just slipped out of. Namjoon puts on his long, black wool coat, hooks the bag handle with his fingers, and swings the bag over his shoulder. 

Outside, all the snow has melted away, but everything is still gray and sad, the sunlight lacking in vigour. The two of you amble down the busy street. 

“Thanks,” he says. 

“Are you kidding? I’m always down to play dress-up. Wanna get something to eat?”

“I have a date, remember?”

“It’s tonight?” you ask, as it registers. Namjoon’s not really one to plan. 

“Yeah, why do you think I’m wearing this?”

“I thought you were just feeling yourself, which you should, because I’m a genius and you look amazing. When are you meeting her?”

“In like---” he looks at his watch. “Forty-five minutes,” he says, his eyes soft.

“Ooh!” you exclaim. “You have Dreamy Crush Face!”

“I do not,” he protests, but his smile gives him away.

“It’s bad!”

“Stop!”

“It’s almost as bad as Library Girl,” you joke. Namjoon’s cheeks plump as he folds his lips into themselves. It’s been an eternity since grad school, and he hopes he’s gotten better at flirting since then.

“What’s her name?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Namjoon has a rule. He doesn’t talk about his dates until after they’ve happened. Something about setting expectations leading to failure.

This is what makes your friendship with Namjoon so special. You agree on the foundations of life. Being decent. Being kind. But in the other things, the ones that might not matter as much in the long run but make life entertaining, you are complete opposites. He’s one of the most perspicacious people you know, but he still chooses to take his time. It takes you embarrassingly long to process what you’re feeling and thinking, which unfortunately clashes with your impulsivity. Except with him. With him, things are so balanced.

You thought he was the one, once. You mistook compatibility for love. The beginning of your friendship was one, long cheap dinner on your dorm floor, enthralled in a passionate conversation about whatever the hell Omeros was about. Over time, you came to realize that you didn’t love him. You couldn’t speak about love from personal experience, but based on what you’d read about it, and based on the way Namjoon talked about his feelings for Library Girl, whatever you and Namjoon had together wasn’t it. You still aren’t sure what love looks like for you, but you know that the guys who follow won’t be able to hold a candle to him. You have a sneaking suspicion that they never will. 

Namjoon stops suddenly, blinking quickly. He wipes his cheek.

“Joon?” you ask.

He turns to you. “Did you feel---”

It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that the sudden downpour is torrential. He doesn’t get his sentence out before you jog over to a nearby shop’s awning, angling for space. Prepared people, the kind who bullet journal and meal prep, pop their umbrellas open and peer at you like you’re in some kind of sad zoo.

“My outfit,” Namjoon says dejectedly.

You roll your eyes. “It’ll be fine. But you should leave now,” you say. “It’s only a matter of time before traffic starts to pile up.”

“What about you?” he asks. 

That’s right. He drove.

“Don’t worry, I’ll…” You look at what’s around you, and you choose the small movie theater a block over. “I’ll catch a movie, wait out the rain.”

Namjoon looks hesitant. “You sure?”

“Call me tomorrow and tell me all about it!” you say, throwing your hood up and grinning at him.

The rain makes you cold, but the movie theater has a coffee shop in front. You pick a movie that starts in fifteen minutes, and you line up for a hot chocolate. 

You scan the room, and you think you see someone familiar. You frown and pull out your phone to make sure. You have to scroll a little bit, but you find Jungkook’s most recent text. Save for the blonde hair, the black sweater, the thick, black glasses, and the serious expression, the picture of Yoongi on your phone is identical to the man sitting at the table by the register, writing in his notebook.

The line shuffles forward, and you take one step closer to him. You wonder what to do.

You keep your phone out, pretending to be doing something purposeful when all you’re doing is opening and closing Jungkook’s text. Would Yoongi even recognize you? He was only in the office for 10 minutes at the most, and it’s not like he had photographic evidence to compare you to. 

It’s your turn at the register, and after you put in your order as quietly as possible, the inevitable happens. 

“Hey,” he says.

You turn and look at him blinking up at you.

“Oh,” you say flatly.

There are so many orders ahead of you, and patrons are crowding around the pick-up counter. In your head, you start gauge how long it will take them to make your hot chocolate. The silence is almost unbearable. You consider bailing. 

“Do you want to have a seat?” he asks tentatively, glancing down at the spare chair across from him.

“Oh, no, that’s OK,” you say.

He keeps staring at you. He looks like he’s trying to decide something.

“C’mon,” he says, louder. “Have a seat.”

Sweat forms on your brow. You hate the feeling of being watched, and people are suspecting a commotion brewing.

“I’m good, thanks,” you say, turning slightly.

“Look, I’m trying to make nice here,” he says, full-throated. He kicks out the chair across from him, and it slides toward you just enough for the chairback to graze your hand. 

People are snickering at your little show. Annoyed, you sit down, scoot back to the table, and try to remind yourself that none of this matters. 

You look down at the table. He’s eaten one of two blueberry muffins from his plate, and his coffee mug needs a refill. 

His eyes follow your gaze. “Uh, do you want one?” he asks, nudging the remaining muffin toward you.

“No,” you lie. 

“Was gonna give it to Jungkook,” he says. You think it’s a needless explanation, but he looks at you as if it’s your turn to give one. “Never seen you here.”

“I’ve never been here before.”

“Do you live nearby? We live---”

“I know,” you remind him, realizing that the intersection where their subway stop is about 10 blocks away, give or take. The city map in your mind locks this new puzzle piece of information into place, and things feel a little more familiar. “I live north of here.”

“Are you on your way out, or are you also watching a movie?”

“I’m watching a movie.”

“Which one?”

It’s too much effort to fish the ticket from your pocket. “I don’t know. I just bought a ticket.”

“You don’t know which movie?”

“No.”

“So you just bought a ticket on a whim for a movie you know nothing about?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you say through gritted teeth, “so that I can watch it.”

He actually frowns at you.

You lower your eyes in fear of them giving away how badly you want to strangle him, and you notice the notebook that Yoongi is writing in. Curiosity gets the better of you. “Working on something new?”

He flinches and closes the notebook.

“No,” he lies.

You sigh. This is excruciating. 

“Well?” you ask expectantly. 

“Well, what?”

“Are you going to make nice, or whatever?”

“I thought I was.”

The barista calls your name, and you jump to your feet so quickly that your chair almost hits someone in line. You apologize to them, shove the chair back into place, and give Yoongi one final look.

“OK, well, bye.” 

You walk up to the pick-up counter and you spare neither a moment to pause as you sweep up your hot chocolate nor a glance back at the perplexed Yoongi that you’re leaving behind.

Even in a small movie theater like this one, you think that the best place to sit is the center of the second to the last row. You love the moment when the entire room goes dark, and you can see the seats and walls and floor disappear. Like with reading, you want to be completely immersed. Things aren’t worth experiencing half-heartedly. 

That’s why the very back row was always the worst row. As a kid, you could hear the hustle and bustle on the other side of the wall, the clicks of the reels and muffled conversations of projectionists. It took you right out of the experience. You’re sure things are different now, but the memory sticks.

Now, the very back row is the worst row because, after climbing up the stairs and eyeing you, Yoongi is settling into the seat just behind and to the right of you.

The pre-show trivia questions are still showing on the screen. You try to focus on answering. 

While your mind is busy, you don’t notice Yoongi watching you. The movie you’re about to watch is by his favorite director, and he’s been reading rave reviews for this movie for weeks. He wants to know if you’re a fellow fan. He’s tired of cornering Jungkook whenever he goes on a spiel about something that he finds interesting. Jungkook always tries to listen, but he’s too genuine to hide how bored he gets.

And you’re so immersed in the movie that you don’t notice him looking over every once in a while to read your reactions. He catalogues everything. What you find funny. What you find unbelievable. What you don’t understand. 

You’ve almost forgotten about him completely but the lights brighten too early, and you wonder if it’s worth looking back to see if Yoongi’s still there.

He’s not.

You dawdle down the stairs and throw your empty cup in the trash. When you get to the front doors, you see Yoongi standing near the exit, holding his notebook and the leftover wrapped-up blueberry muffin in his hand. He’s staring out the window at the rain. Your plan failed. The storm seems to have gotten worse, and now you’re trapped with him. 

He catches your eye, and it’s your turn to frown.

You walk over to the door to get a better look at the rain. 

“Do you need a ride?” he asks, nodding his head at the weather.

The offer is a considerate one. Even if you sprint the whole way, you’ll be soaked completely through by the time you reach the subway station.

You shrug, and he nods.

“Wait here.”

Minutes later, he pulls up. Even through the downpour, you can tell that he’s driving an old, beat-up piece of junk. The door creaks as you climb into the passenger seat. You slam the door shut, and you think you see Yoongi wince. 

“Sorry,” you say out of habit.

Yoongi looks at you. “No,” he says, running his fingers through his rain-drenched hair. “I’m sorry.”

He wipes his hand on his thigh before taking off his glasses and wiping them dry using one of the coffee shop napkins from his inside coat pocket. 

“That day. In your office. Even though I technically did tell you I was sorry that day, I was still mad and I didn’t mean it. It wasn’t fair for me to take it out on you,” he says genuinely. 

Outwardly, your claws are still out, teeth still bared, but in your mind, you accept his apology right away. You can’t help it. His voice is low and soft, he can’t seem to meet your gaze, and he’s wiping his glasses so hard that you’re afraid that the pressure that he’s putting on the rough, paper napkin will scratch his lenses. 

“...Thanks,” you say. 

He puts his glasses back on and finally looks you in the eye. He extends his hand. You shake on it. This seems to release him from something.

“So,” Yoongi says, switching on the radio, “where am I going?”

You tell him the crossroads that take you to your apartment as he chooses a radio station. A soft, jazzy instrumental flows from the speakers. The sound quality is surprisingly good. The sound of brushes on the snare feels like a warm blanket. You look around the interior of the car, noticing little charms. The blueberry muffin and Yoongi’s phone in the cupholder. The notebook tossed onto the dash. The missing A/C dial. The cute chocolate-colored cartoon character smirking up at you from his keyring. You settle into your seat, starting to feel the same quickness of comfort that you had with Jungkook. You feel a little bad for judging. 

Yoongi’s slender fingers wrap around the steering wheel, and he pulls onto the road. “What’d you think about the movie?” he asks.

“It was really good,” you admit. “I had no idea what to expect, I got so into it that I was kinda sad when it was over.”

“Yeah, that director is one of my favorites,” he says. “If you liked this one, you should check out her other stuff. She really pulls you in.”

He looks at you nervously.

“By the way, I don’t know if I said it the right way before, but I think it’s kinda cool that you just bought a ticket like that. It never occurred to me to do that, like, ever.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling oddly flattered. You feel dumb for getting angry at the frown that you had misinterpreted as Yoongi’s dismissal. He’s right. It seems like a weird thing, and you find yourself scrambling for the details for an explanation.

“I was actually in one of these shops with Namjoon, and after we left, it started to rain. It was just a way to wait out the storm, but I really enjoyed it.”

“Namjoon?” 

“My partner. We share an office,” you add uneasily, hoping that bringing up the office doesn’t force you to take a step back in the leaps and bounds you’ve made from questionable sexual harassment to civil conversation. 

“Where is he now?”

“On a date.” You smile to yourself, remembering the outfit you picked out and the upcoming gossip session. 

“Hmm.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “You started Fig Tree Publishing together?”

“Yeah.” The realization of two nerds’ grad school-borne dreams.

“Why is it called ‘fig tree’?” 

“Have you read The Bell Jar?”

Yoongi’s lips turn up and he shoots you a knowing look. Of course it’s from The Bell Jar. It’s probably your favorite book. It’s probably what inspired you to be who you are today. 

You smile back. Of course he’s read The Bell Jar. His nimble, vivid imagination conjures up a younger you in your room reading your dog-eared copy for the millionth time, tiny notes scrawled in the margins of the pages. And if you could see what he’s thinking, you’d say that he’s not far off. 

“So are you sitting at the base of the tree, starving as you watch the figs fall?” he asks.

“Maybe.”

Something feels new. He understands something about you now, something vital, and you can see him coloring in the sketch of you in his mind. You feel exposed. You wonder if this is how Yoongi felt about you reading his book. 

“What about you?” you ask. “How did you become a writer?”

“Couldn’t do anything else,” he says, merging lanes for the upcoming turn.

“Well, you’re really good at it,” you offer.

He blushes but doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re a food critic, right?”

“Pays the bills,” Yoongi says, shrugging. “And who turns down free food and liquor?”

You laugh softly. “Is that what it’s about? The perks?”

“Sometimes,” he admits. “And sometimes it’s just… bad. But sometimes it’s interesting. And when it is, it’s really humbling to help spread the word about people who have essentially dedicated their lives to create new meaning in our relationships to things that were only ever meant for sustenance.”

Impressive, you think. “My next question was going to be if you were a good food critic, but I think you just answered it.”

You think you see a proud smile spreading across Yoongi’s face as he looks away from you to check before merging left.

A flash of light catches your eye, and though there’s no ringtone, you see Jungkook’s face pop up on Yoongi’s phone. “Hey, I think you’re getting a call.”

Yoongi looks flustered. You’re making headway with each other on this literary plane of existence, but small, important, real-world things are still missing. Like what your agreed upon car/phone etiquette is. 

You establish it now. “Here,” you say, “I can help.” You reach down for his phone, swipe up, and set it to speakerphone.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi asks.

“Hey,” Jungkook’s voice responds. “Been trying to reach you. Need a ride. Can you pick me up?”

Yoongi purses his lips and looks at you. “Uh,” he says.

You shrug and nod. 

“Yeah, where are you?” Yoongi asks Jungkook, looking at you apologetically.

You park outside of a nearby gym. Yoongi asks you to wait as he jumps out and meets Jungkook under the awning. They talk, and Yoongi looks concerned about how long Jungkook has been waiting, but Jungkook seems to reassure him. Yoongi leans into Jungkook and says something else, and Jungkook swivels his head around to the car, to you. You can see the whites of Jungkook’s adorable eyes and all of Jungkook’s teeth in the saccharine simper that he’s beaming straight at you. He waves quickly and exaggeratedly, running to the car with Yoongi trailing behind. 

Jungkook jumps into the backseat, his wet clothes and hair clinging to his skin. You almost can’t look at him directly, he’s so attractive.

“He didn’t scare you off!” he cheers, as Yoongi hops into the driver’s seat and rolls his eyes. 

“Hi, troublemaker,” you chuckle. “How are you?”

“Great!” he exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you!”

Your heart fills your chest, and you smile at him fondly. “You too.” You had been texting here and there for a little while, but it’s nice to hear his voice.

“There’s a muffin here,” Yoongi says. He passes it back to Jungkook, who starts snacking on it immediately. “Watch the crumbs!” he adds hastily, and Jungkook grins, his chin already stained with blueberry.

“Soooo, you were at a movie, huh?” he asks, wiping it off. He’s polished off the muffin in four bites.

You stumble. “Oh, yeah, I mean, no, but---”

“It’s like I said,” Yoongi interrupts, glaring back at Jungkook through the rearview mirror. “We just bumped into each other.”

But it’s too late. Jungkook is eating this up faster than that blueberry muffin.

“Her name is Tara,” Namjoon says when you pick up the phone.

Your eyes finally pop open, and you roll onto your back. Even though you had been sleeping, you’ve been waiting for this call, and you can think of no better place to have it than in your California king.

“Tell me everything,” you say, giving Namjoon the permission to unleash his giddiness.  

He starts from the moment that you ran into the theater. He describes how he held his shopping bag over his head and ran back to the car, nearly slipping on the slick pavement. Namjoon takes you along with him, to the aquarium, a restaurant, and her apartment. 

No detail is left unshared. Tara works as a veterinarian at the aquarium, and you can see Namjoon getting overly excited about the hermit crab exhibit. You cringe when Namjoon says that the wine that he picked at dinner was terrible, and you feel the ease of Tara’s laugh as she says all wine is good wine. You’re just as dazzled as he is when she regales him with snippets about her trip to Tuscany. Something about stealing bottles, running into the vineyard, and watching the sun set. You can feel his anticipation at the almost-kiss at Tara’s door. 

“Just almost?” you sigh.

“Yeah just almost, I just met her,” Namjoon says level-headedly. He’s reigning in the giddiness again, but he lets slip, “Though we’re having dinner next weekend.”

“Aw, Joon!”

“I know. So thanks for your help.” 

“Anytime, Joonie. You know that I love you and am so excited for you.”

“I love you, too.” He sighs and stretches. “Anyway, what did you end up doing yesterday? That storm didn’t stop until this morning.”

Morning? You check the clock. How is it already past noon?

“Oh, nothing,” you say, running your hands over your sheets. 

“How was the movie?”

“Actually, it was really, really good. It’s a black-and-white Polish film.”

“What was it about?”

“A couple,” you say. “They meet just before a war.”

“Aw.” You imagine Namjoon’s pout. “That’s sad.”

“Yeah. But it’s also romantic and existential.”

“Should I watch it?”

“Yes, definitely,” you say. “Actually, think about taking Tara at some point, if she’s into that sort of thing.”

“Nice. Thanks for the idea.”

You hear him typing on his phone. He’s probably looking up showtimes right now. 

In between the clacking, you wonder if you should say anything. It’s really hard for you to keep anything from Namjoon.

“So, uh. Yoongi was there.”

The clacking stops.

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah.”

“Did something happen?” 

Namjoon’s tone makes you think of an older brother slamming his fist into his palm over and over again. “Stand down,” you chuckle. “It was OK.”

“What exactly was OK?”

“We just bumped into each other,” you echo. “He was writing in the coffee shop at the front. And then it turned out that we got tickets to the same movie. It’s by his favorite director, or something.”

“Oh. Well, did you talk about the book at all?”

“No,” you say. You feel like Namjoon isn’t getting it. You aren’t even sure if you’re getting it. “Anyway, they gave me a ride home.”

“They?”

“Oh, yeah, Jungkook was there too.”

“The roommate?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, he was at the theater, too?”

You regret bringing it up. “No, we left the theater, and then Jungkook called him for a ride.”

“So what did you do after?”

“Nothing. They dropped me off at home and then I went to bed.”

“Well, that was nice of them.”

“Yeah,” you say. “It was nice.”

You sit up and remember that it’s past noon. “I think I’m going to get something for lunch. See you tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” Namjoon says, and even though you feel like he’s about to say something else, you say bye and hang up.

You lie in bed for a little while longer, but eventually, you reach over for your phone again and decide to order in. But what, you aren’t sure. You think of Yoongi, and you look up his food blog.

A million posts populate on your screen, and you scroll through. The thousands of clicks and comments on his posts scream more book-related social media possibilities to you in the same voice that you heard when you first read Yoongi’s work. But you mostly think about what Yoongi said in the car about spreading the word. One of Yoongi’s most popular posts catches your attention.

This is the kind of meal you want when you aren’t sure what you want, and for the first time in a while, you’re exhausted enough by the decisions you need to make every day that you’re willing to trust a complete stranger with deciding for you. But does a complete stranger devote an extra half-day to the marinade, going so far as to blend the parsley, basil, and other ingredients to make sure it’s perfect? Does a complete stranger ladle some of that marinade into the broth for the garlic parmesan risotto to make sure everything is balanced? Does a complete stranger work their magic to make you question why you’ve never had a raspberry tiramisu? By the time you finish your meal, you realize that you’ve been home all along.

You place the order, and when it arrives, you feel shy for some reason. It feels like Yoongi is there with you, throwing away the laughable plasticware and telling you that you’re going to need a real knife. 

You take a bite. You hadn’t realized you had been so hungry for this.

You see someone walking toward the office but do a double-take because it’s Yoongi.

He barrels through the door, Sejin galloping after him.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

You catch Sejin’s eye and let him know it’s OK. Sejin looks like he wants to slap you. He leaves in a huff, and you make a mental note to make it up to him.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Yoongi says stiffly, shouldering his backpack. “Wondered if you wanted to get lunch and, uh, talk. Or something.”

You exchange glances with Namjoon, who just raises his eyebrows.

“Sure,” you say, turning back to Yoongi.

Yoongi nods, pursing his lips.

“Oh, you mean, like, right now?” you ask.

“If you’re not too busy,” Yoongi says.

You drive to a small, old restaurant in a nearby shopping plaza. Yoongi tells you that it’s known for its banh mi.

“Their pho is only OK though,” he whispers to you, after the waiter drops off your order. You’re sitting outside, the soft breeze rustling the paper hugging the bread. The weather is considerably better since the last time you saw each other. 

“I trust you,” you say, and Yoongi smiles. His gums peek out at you. You can’t help but find it a little cute.

“And what makes me so trustworthy?” he asks in a smooth, sinister voice.

You laugh. “I read one of your posts.”

Yoongi’s smile dims, but his eyes deepen. You feel caught. 

“You did?”

“Yeah. I loved it,” you say. “You nailed it.” You bite into your banh mi. “You should think about publishing a book,” you joke.

“OK,” Yoongi says, and you almost choke on your bread.

”What?”

“I mean… you sent the acceptance letter, so I thought you’d still be---”

“Yes, I’m still interested! We,” you correct, “we, I mean. Fig Tree.”

Yoongi smirks. He reaches into his backpack, which is on the seat next to him. He sets his manuscript on the table between you. “So I guess you should hang onto this, then.”

You pick up the manuscript like you’re saying hello to an old friend. “You do know you’ll be emailing me your pages, right?” you ask.

“No, I mean, I want you to keep it,” he says. “Kinda like a reminder… keepsake… like… thing.”

“You mean like a gift?”

“Sure, if you want to call it that.”

“Thank you,” you say, earnestly. 

You feel his eyes watching you as you reverently place it into your bag, which is on the seat next to you. 

You eat in comfortable silence, but the question keeps nagging at you, tugging your sleeve and pulling your collar.

“I have to ask,” you say, but it’s not until you’re in the car, on the drive back. 

“Hmm?” Yoongi asks, stopping at the light.

“What changed your mind?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

You shake your head. “No?”

“You did,” Yoongi says simply. 

There’s a light that sparks inside of you. Faint, but present. It spreads from the core of you to every hair follicle on your skin. The things you envisioned for this project are going to be real. People are going to see a great, new talent. This is going to be a make-or-break project for Fig Tree. You feel delirious.

And then you look up at the smile on Yoongi’s face, and it explodes into euphoria.

Yoongi parks in front of your office building and looks back at you.

“So, what happens now?” he asks.

“Well, we make sure that you’re comfortable with the contract,” you say. “We’re happy to do whatever makes it work.”

“OK, sounds good. And then?”

“Then we begin edits.”

“Shouldn’t take too long,” Yoongi remarks. “I was pretty thorough.”

You feel the first doubt start to chip at the cloud you’ve been flying on. Now you have to see this side of Yoongi, the writer. 

“The process usually takes three to five months,” you say carefully. You’ve learned along the way that keeping things objective helps keep things from getting, well, messy. You think of some of the blow-ups with authors from the past, and you wonder if you and Yoongi will fight like that, with the poison of unkind words seeping into your most broken bits.

“Then?” Yoongi’s already sounding bored.

“Then we launch,” you say.

“And then… that’s it?” Yoongi asks. 

“Well, not necessarily,” you say. “If it does well, there could be a sequel. Or someone could offer to buy the rights.”

Yoongi grins. “Well, let’s give it a go.”

“Let’s,” you agree, and you can’t believe you passed the first hurdle.

That night, you settle into bed and read the manuscript for fun. You catch another great snippet made meaningful from spending time with Yoongi. 

“You really think so?” Jimin giggled, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, you could totally do it, you’re so dreamy,” the cashier said, looking up at him as if stargazing.

“Would you listen to my music?” Jimin cooed, puckering his lips and learning on the counter.

“Oh, yeah,” the cashier replied, drawing closer. “I’d listen to it all the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Thrilling conversation, Taehyung thought to himself. But it didn’t matter. Because they only needed conversation to last long enough for Taehyung to grab one more thing.

They ran out of the shop, cackling and hanging their arms over each other.

“What’d you score?” Jimin asked.

“A couple of chocolate milks and two blueberry muffins,” Taehyung says with a proud grin.

He pulls two satchels out of the front pocket of his hoodie. They might have been bags of gold.

  There’s a couple of days when Namjoon is set to represent the company at a conference out of town. After the contract is signed, you choose one of those days for the first edit session with Yoongi, not for any reason other than to make sure that Yoongi would feel comfortable. 

Even though your appointment isn’t until mid-afternoon, on that day, you show up early. You always get excited with new projects, and this one has been pawing at you for so long that you can barely contain yourself.

You don’t realize what time it is when Sejin pings you in the work chat, the notification dragging your eyes away from where your cursor is on the page you’re editing.

Sejin (2:13 PM): Your 2:30 is here.

You furrow your brow. That’s Yoongi’s time slot. You peek your head out from behind your screen. Through the glass, you see that instead of exploding into the room in his usual style, Yoongi is sitting in the waiting area, going through the magazines on the coffee table. 

Sejin is staring at him in disbelief.

You type on your laptop.

You (2:14 PM): Is he really just sitting there?

Sejin looks over at you and shrugs.

Sejin (2:14 PM): What does it look like to you?

You (2:14 PM): Is there something wrong with him?

Sejin (2:14 PM): Really? You’re going to ask me that? Don’t get me started.

You (2:15 PM): Alright, settle down. Send him in, I guess. Thanks.

Sejin reads the screen and says something to Yoongi, who stands. When he gets to the chair across from your desk, you see that he’s sweating.

“Hey,” you say lightly, “are you OK?”

“Yeah, just a little nervous.” 

“Nothing to be nervous about.”

Yoongi forces a smile. “I know. But it’s so weird to talk about this story. Y’know. Out loud.”

This happens with new authors, and Yoongi is particularly secretive. “It always feels weird,” you reassure him. “That’s why I thought we could maybe start with some general things.”

“OK. General things. That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Ready?”

“I think so.”

“Alright.”

You turn your laptop so that both of you can see.

“I noted quite a few tense changes throughout the chapter. Might need to watch it throughout the book.”

“Uh-huh. OK. Well, that’s certainly easy.”

“See?” You smile at him, and he nods nonchalantly. 

“There’s also some inconsistent dates and times alluding to Jimin’s visit to Taehyung at the detention center,” you go on.

“Can fix that.”

“One thing I noted here, something about some of the dialogue.”

“Which part?”

“When Jimin finds Taehyung high in their dorm and asks him if this is the first time, Taehyung says, ‘Yes. If you mean my first time getting high in the dorm.’”

Yoongi chuckles. “Right.”

“Jimin laughs,” you say, confused.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, it kind of undercuts the tension. There are a few instances where this kind of thing happens, and it’s unclear whether Jimin has serious concerns about Taehyung or not.”

“It’s a serious problem. Of course he’s concerned.”

“Exactly. So why does Jimin laugh it off?”

“That’s just who he is,” Yoongi says. “Taehyung sometimes throws out earnest statements that come out of nowhere and change the dynamic, and Jimin’s always tickled by it.”

“But what purpose does it serve for the story?”

“No purpose,” Yoongi reinforces. “He’s just like that.”

“Could there be a minor tweak that goes into a bit of explanation, like, ‘Jimin laughed in spite of himself’?” 

“But it’s not like he knows that in the moment.”

“I just don’t know if, without something like a clarifier, that it quite lands for the reader.” 

“Maybe not for you.”

You chew your lip. “Well, I think it’s worth reviewing.”

Yoongi folds his arms.

You suck in your breath. Yoongi’s staring at the floor, leaning forward in his chair, his heel bouncing up and down against the chair leg. This is not going well, and you’ve stupidly left the biggest theme for last.

“You’re not going to like what I say next.”

“There’s more?” Yoongi’s already defensive. 

You brace. There’s so much more. But you’ve got to introduce this idea now before you get too far, because it’s going to take some work. “It’s about the ending.” 

“What about it?” Yoongi asks, his voice low.

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

Suddenly, Yoongi gets very still. Eerily still.

The band-aid’s been ripped. You know that the professional thing to do is to push on and stay objective. “What I mean,” you continue, “is that you’ve set up the characters in a world where actions have clear consequences. The ending doesn’t hold true to that.”

“So?” Yoongi asks.

“So you might run into a problem where the ending feels a bit like wish fulfillment.” 

“Isn’t that at the heart of what makes writing so great?” Yoongi protests. 

“What, wish fulfillment?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good writing is grounded in something.”

“But the power lies in freedom. You can write anything,” Yoongi says.

“Yeah, but you can’t just write anything,” you counter. “It has to be honest.”

“So now I’m dishonest.” Yoongi is clearly angry, but he’s speaking so calmly that it’s actually scarier than if he were to raise his voice. 

“Hey, Yoongi,” you say. “We’re just talking.”

“You’re trying to change a lot here, and it’s only day one.”

“I don’t want to change anything, just clean it up a bit,” you try. 

“The whole point of this story is to look at the rough edges, to shine a light on the things that---” Yoongi gives up and starts to gather his things. “Never mind. I don’t think this was a good idea.” 

“Yoongi!” you call out, but he’s made up his mind. He strides past Sejin’s desk. You watch him turn the corner and leave.

← 01: Winter | 03: Summer →

In the Margins | Masterpost

In the Margins | Playlist

[snicketstrange]

Rereading The End Chapter 11

TE Chapter 11 - In chapter 11 the schism takes place. Apparently it's something really violent and worrisome. If there were weapons in the hands of some, it is possible that there would have been deaths. Interestingly, this schism only proves that even Ish's attempts to keep the peace on the island didn't work. Even if the Baudelaires had not reached the island, the schism would have taken place. The End has proven to be one of the few ASOUE books in which the plot advances independently of the Baudelaires' presence. And this is increasingly reinforced in the speeches of the characters and Lemony, who claim that the story of the Baudelaires is not the only story in the world. In TE they are more witnesses to the events. This is a counterpoint to their performance in TPP. In TPP their presence and decisions affected the fate of many people who were in the hotel. But on the island, they're just castaways who are less willing to change than many of the characters who were already there. This time the cause of the schism is the question of whether it is worth sacrificing the fun that a non-peaceful life brings or not. Of course you could just talk about it, but it's hard to convince people of anything. This is even a religious issue. Erewhon came from a peaceful island, and ended up on another peaceful island. He wanted to venture out into the world, and take risks and have the fun of a free life as a reward. On the other hand, Alonso came had a troubled life involved in politics, and all he wanted was a quiet life. Is it worth leaving the peace promoted by a rigid religious community and venturing far away? It is interesting that the solution to the problem was well ahead of everyone: those who wanted a life full of adventure and problems should have the courage to venture out to sea and leave the island. But the real problem is that these people didn't want to leave the island. They wanted to stay on the island and make the island a place full of dangerous adventures, and drive out those who defended the distance from the dangers of the world. War was practically inevitable, as it was not just an ideological issue... It became a territorial issue: who would be able to stay on the island and establish their way of thinking there? Daniel Handler exemplifies here how civil wars start. I found it interesting that Friday is the most confusing... She says that all she wanted was a simple life with her father and mother together. She doesn't think that learning to read is making life difficult. Suddenly, the schism that seemed to have only two sides starts to fragment, each one screaming that they prefer something different. We can assume that the VFD schisms ended up generating several fragmentations, taking as an example what happened on the island. It is interesting that only Olaf calls Ishmael Ish. But let's talk about Olaf's monologue, which is just as intriguing as Ish's monologue. I will summarize the important parts of the monologue here: - Oh, Ish, I told you many years ago that I would triumph over you someday, and at last that day has arrived. My (female) associate with the weekday for a name (Monday) told me that you were still hiding out on this island. She (Monday) was trying to blackmail an old man who was involved in a political scandal. Well... that's the only part that really matters in Olaf's monologue. And the fact that Poe was once an actor. So... Who is Monday? She is a woman, who was an associate of Olaf. She knew Ish was on the island, which makes us assume she was someone who was on the island at the same time as Ish. She left the island or at the time Beatrice and Bertrand left there, making her a former supporter of Beatrice and Bertrand or she left the island at the time Thursday left the island. Another important piece of information is that Olaf swore he would triumph over Ish. This shows that Ish ended up becoming an important leader of one of the VFD factions. Olaf wanted to triumph over Ish, certainly he wanted to defeat the ideology espoused by Ish. Another important detail we have here is that, unlike the Netflix series, in which Olaf frees himself from his prison, in the book TE Olaf is released by some who believed he had enough power to dethrone Ish. This attitude certainly reflects what had happened years earlier, when one of the VFD factions decided to enlist Olaf's help in destroying the deadly MM fungus. No longer part of Olaf's monologue, but rather a dialogue in which Olaf explains the differences between him and Ish, we have a very important phrase for us to understand the VFD schism: "If you were to wash the clay off Ishmael's feet, you'd see he has the same tattoo as I do... The difference is that Ishmael is unarmed. He abandoned his weapons long ago, during the V.F.D. schism, refusing to use violence of any sort." Olaf speaks here about The VFD Schism. The use of the definite article only makes me conclude that it refers to the Great Schism. Ish is old enough to have been a part of VFD since before the Great Schism. He also has the tattoo, indicating that he had been part of the organization since before this event that took place in Kit and Dewey's childhood. Hence we have the conclusion that Ish was part of the side that refused guns of any kind. This underscores the nature of the Great Schism of VFD: one side advocated violence as a mechanism to bring peace, after all for them fire must be fought with fire. The other side, which Ish supported, argued that the world should be quiet, and refused to use violence of any kind. In ATWQ and in some parts of TBL we find texts that reflect the way of thinking of the pacifist side of VFD. And we also know that Olaf stayed on the pacifist side of VFD along with Lemony and Beatrice for a few years. But eventually Olaf became an outspoken villain, meaning Oalf stopped trying to help the world. His violent methods are not motivated by an attempt to fight fire with fire. He's greedy, and that's evident here when he wants to become king of the island. Lemony soon realized that fire sometimes needed to be fought with fire when he killed Hangfire. Kit, Beatrice and Bertrad, as adults, also surrendered to the ideology that it is sometimes necessary to kill people to bring peace. They didn't become outright villains. They just changed their views. And, after many years, we have witnessed the downfall of the main herald of total pacifism in VFD history: Ish. "Don't be so sure about that," Ishmael said, and raised an object in the air so everyone could see it... Now the weapon was adding another chapter to its secret history, and was pointing right at Count Olaf. "I had Omeros keep this weapon handy," Ishmael said, "instead of tossing it in the arboretum, because I thought you might escape from that cage, Count Olaf, just as I escaped from the cage you put me in when you set fire to my home... I'm going to do what I should have done years ago, Olaf, and slaughter you. I'm going to fire this harpoon gun right into that bulging belly of yours!" I find it interesting that Olaf denies setting fire to Ish's house. For some reason, I believe him. It is not like Olaf to deny having killed someone when his cover is no longer working. Anyway, we already know Ish shot him. And I find it very bizarre that Olaf falls down laughing, as if he has triumphed over Ish. After all, Olaf managed to turn the harbour of peace into someone violent, not only by inducing him to kill him, but also by making him responsible for the deaths of dozens of people. Olaf could have displayed the helmet containing the MM fungus, and made Ish surrender. But that wouldn't have been as complete a victory as making Ish an assassin. Of course, this at the same time induced him to unmask his hypocrisy in front of everyone on the island. Ish showed that she was a hypocrite by guarding a weapon. Ish showed he was a liar by showing that he had no foot problems. Olaf had managed to turn the Baudelaires into arsonists and now managed to turn Ish into an assassin. It is true that there is nothing to indicate that Olaf planned all this unfolding of events. However, as he fell to the ground laughing, he certainly thought about how all this just proved that he had indeed triumphed.

[omero-megane]

Doing comm make me burn out so bad omg

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Which Islanders were rioting on Decision Day?

Hey so I was bored and editing Snicket Wiki and decided to make a comprehensive list of who was supporting Ishmael during the Decision Day Schism and which were ready to mutiny. Okay yeah let’s do this

We’ll start with the ones who are definite 

Erewhon - Against Ishmael. This is known as she and Finn are the ones who hired the Baudelaires to get them weapons. 

Finn - Against Ishmael. See above. 

Alonso - For Ishmael. He’s the one who informs Ishmael of the mutiny, and his choice of words definitely implies he’s against it. “I wanted to leave my unfortunate history behind and live a peaceful life free from trouble. But now there are some colonists talking of mutiny. If we’re not careful, this island will become as treacherous as the rest of the world!” 

Ariel - For Ishmael. She literally says “Ishmael is right,” she’s on his side.

Omeros - For Ishmael. He stays out of the mutiny in order to hide Ishmael’s dart gun.

Professor Fletcher - Against Ishmael. Taught the children to read, taught Finn about mutinies, and tells Ishmael and they’re tired of him. 

Sherman - Against Ishmael. Refers to the mutiny as “our mutiny.” 

Byam - Against Ishmael. Says “there’s nothing wrong with a complicated life,” which is definitely against Ishmael’s teachings.

Alright now let’s figure out the other ones:

For starters, let’s take this passage and lay out who is fighting who

Despite the presence of an opiate in seashells dangling from the waists of every colonist, the islanders were anything but drowsy and inactive. Alonso was grabbing the arm of Willa, who was shrieking in annoyance while stepping on Dr. Kurtz's foot. Sherman's face was even redder than usual as he threw sand in the face of Mr. Pitcairn, who appeared to be trying to bite Brewster's finger. Professor Fletcher was shouting at Ariel, and Ms. Marlow was stomping her feet at Calypso, and Madame Nordoff and Rabbi Bligh seemed ready to begin wrestling on the sand. Byam twirled his mustache at Ferdinand, while Robinson tugged his beard at Larsen and Weyden seemed to tear out her red hair for no reason at all. Jonah and Sadie Bellamy were standing face-to-face arguing, while Friday and Mrs. Caliban were standing back-to-back as if they would never speak to each other again, and all the while Omeros stood near Ishmael's chair with his hands held suspiciously behind his back.

- The End, Chapter Eleven

So the fighting is going as thus:

Alonso (pro-Ishmael) vs Willa vs Dr Kurtz

Sherman (anti-Ishmael) vs Mr Pircairn vs Brewster

Fletcher (anti) vs Ariel (pro)

Ms. Marlow vs Calypso

Madame Nordoff vs Rabbi Bligh 

Byam (anti) vs Ferdinand 

Robinson vs Larsen 

Jonah vs Sadie 

Friday vs Miranda 

Weyden and Omeros (pro) aren’t fighting anyone

We can reasonably assume that despite the chaos, people are fighting who are on opposite sides. So let’s break this down:

WILLA - Anti-Ishmael. She is fighting both Alonso and Kurtz, and Alonso is pro-Ishmael. 

DR KURTZ - Pro-Ishmael. They are fighting Willa, anti-ish.

MR PITCAIRN - Pro-Ishmael. Not only is he fighting both Sherman (anti) and Brewster, he fully believes Ishmael that books are dangerous and defends his decision to abandon Kit (and the Baudelaires) due to this. He also seems to have a bit of a black-and-white morality view- when he sees Kit, the first thing he points out is that she has the same tattoo as Olaf. 

BREWSTER - Anti-Ishmael. Not only is he fighting Mr Pitcairn, when Olaf arrives and makes a suggestion, he states that he already sounds like Ishmael with wording that implies disdain. 

MS MARLOW - Anti-Ishmael. She defends the Baudelaires against Pitcairn, suggesting she’s opposite his side. 

CALYPSO - Pro-Ishmael. Calypso actually gets confusing; while they call Ishmael a bad facilitator, they also suggest abandoning the mutineers. I believe that the yelling of bad facilitator was a “heat-of-the-moment” frustration, and they are against the mutineers, not only because of their call to abandon the revolutionaries but due to them fighting Ms Marlow.

FERDINAND - Pro-Ishmael. Seen fighting Byam, who is decidedly against Ishmael. 

ROBINSON - Anti-Ishmael. Seen fighting Larsen, who is decidedly for Ishmael. 

LARSEN - Pro-Ishmael. When Fletcher mentions Weyden hiding books, she angrily shouts that he used the books to “force” the children to read, heavily implying that she’s of Ishmael’s opinion about books- which is that knowledge is Bad and everything should be simple. While this is tentative at best, we can reasonably assume she’s against the schism. 

FRIDAY - Anti-Ishmael. This is pretty certain. She angrily tells Larsen that they wanted to learn how to read, and though she’s confused at Byam’s statement that a complex life is okay, she was definitely upset at the abandoning of the Baudelaires and probably would’ve done something if her mother hadn’t stopped her. At the end, when she goes with Ishmael, she says it’s because she “can’t lose anyone else,” not because she agrees with him. 

MIRANDA - Pro-Ishmael. Not only does she seem to have a disagreement with Friday during the revolt, we know she decided to lie to Friday her entire life and even yanks her away from the Baudelaires- and the chance of life- at the end just to keep her own secrets. She also seems to not like the fact Friday can read. 

WEYDEN - Anti-Ishmael. While we can’t define who she is based on who she fights, we know she and Fletcher hid books in order to teach the children to read, meaning she doesn’t agree with Ishmael’s worldview on knowledge. 

Now there’s only four left who are generally confusing. 

MADAME NORDOFF 

Fighting Rabbi Bligh; on opposite side. 

Mutiny Points: Secretly yodeling against Ishmael’s suggestion, and was taught by Finn, a revolter. Suggests yodeling during the revolt.

Cultist Points: Does not think the children should be reading. Fond of the drugged coconut cordial. Thinks the Medusoid is only threatening because it is forbidden and thus doesn’t figure out it’s poisoned. 

RABBI BLIGH 

Fighting Madame Nordoff; on opposite side.

Mutiny Points: When Alonso says he washed up after a political scandal, Bligh says “So what? Eventually, everyone washes up on these shores,” implying he doesn’t really care what Alonso has to say. 

Cultist Points: When it’s revealed Nordoff is yodeling, they say “Maybe we should have a mutiny after all!” Implying they weren’t okay with it before. Also could imply they’re angry that Nordoff is disobeying Ishmael. 

JONAH and SADIE 

The two of them, though working together in their only other appearances, seem to be on opposite sides of the schism. While it’s possible that they’re not and their shouting at each other was taken out of context, we have to assume since it was the only thing mentioned that they were fighting. 

Jonah: announces to the rioters that Madame Nordoff yodeling isn’t as bad as Finn carrying a flashlight. This could imply he was anti-technology. 

Sadie: announces to the rioters that carrying a flashlight is better than Erewhon hiding a picnic basket. 

I’m going to tentatively say I believe that Nordoff was Pro-Ish and Bligh was Anti-Ish, and “maybe we should have a mutiny after all” was more of a call to action than an actual statement. I also feel like Jonah was likely Pro-Ish, which would make Sadie Anti-Ish.

so, yeah

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#10yrsago The Simpsons turns 20 today

Twenty years ago today, the first full-length episode of The Simpsons -- known as The "Christmas Special" -- aired on television. This episode was originally intended to be show number 8, but ended up being first after a series of production glitches and switches. You can find streamable copies around the internets.

I've been traveling in rural, indigenous communities in Central America this week. I was reminded of the awesome happy-power and transcultural reach of the Simpsons in a conversation last night with an 8-year-old K'iche Maya kid. He lives in a highland village. His family is too poor to own a TV, but we got to talking, and he volunteered out of the blue his love for the show. He knows exactly who his favorite character is, too: "Omero" (Homer). He's a shy, quiet, serious boy, but lights right up when he's talking about the Simpsons. Pretty cool to think that a show could delight so many around the world, for so many years.

A special holiday shout-out to David Silverman, a personal friend who also happens to have been the director of that very first episode (and, of course, many others, and that movie). David, I hope you're having a more relaxed December than you did in 1989.

https://boingboing.net/2009/12/17/the-simpsons-turns-2.html

[laurajdt]

I was today years old when I learned that one of the writers for the Golden Girls is a trans woman. More about the show’s legacy, including quotes from Isabel Omero, in the link below.

X

[sciatu]

TAORMINA E IL BARONE WIHELM VON GLOEDEN

Arrivato a Taormina NEL 1878,  il barone Wihlem von Gloeden stimolato dal paesaggio e dai ruderi storici della cittadina incominciò a dipingere come il suo amico Otto Geleng, che lo aveva invitato in Sicilia. Presto però la pittura fu messa da parte e Gloeden si concentrò sulla fotografia di cui mostrò subito di avere un grande talento artistico ed un’ottima tecnica. Se parlate con un fotografo lui incomincerà a descrivervi la sua macchina fotografica per quel connubbio che vi è tra la tecnica e l’arte che produce; la macchina fotografica di Gloeden era particolare perché molto grande e trasportabile, nel senso che il barone lo affidava al suo fedele collaboratore chiamato “il Moro” per la sua carnagione scura che a fatica la trasportava per i monti e ruderi che circondavano la cittadina. Gloeden non si accontentò di fotografare ruderi e paesaggi, ma li rese vivi inserendovi dei personaggi in abiti antichi o completamente nudi secondo l’idea che si aveva a quei tempi dell’epoca di Omero e Teocrito. Da bravo tedesco era molto attento ai particolari, così le pose erano studiate con cura perché risultassero naturali, mentre la pelle dei modelli era ricoperta con un unguento di sua invenzione perché risultasse liscia e senza macchie o difetti. Divenne presto famoso e questo lo aiutò a superare la bancarotta della sua famiglia e a vivere a Taormina con un certo agio. Anche se tra le sue 7000 foto non ce n’è una pornografica o indecorosa, la sua fama crebbe anche per le foto dei suoi modelli maschili tanto che fu portato in tribunale con l’accusa di sodomia; gli accusatori però ritirarono la denuncia e pagarono una cospicua cifra per indennizzarlo in quanto il barone stava ben attento a non superare i limiti della decenza di allora. Se guardi le sue foto comprendi l’abilità del barone von Gloeden non solo nel riprodurre ambienti, paesaggi e modelli in modo perfetto ma nel dare ai personaggi stessi un senso che va al di la della semplice riproduzione, nel trasformare, e fu tra i primi, uno strumento tecnico in un mezzo artistico.

Arrived in Taormina in 1878, Baron Wihlem von Gloeden stimulated by the landscape and the historical ruins of the town began to paint as his friend Otto Geleng, who had invited him to Sicily. Soon, however, the painting was put aside and Gloeden focused on the photograph of which he immediately showed to have a great artistic talent and excellent technique. If you talk to a photographer he will begin to describe his camera for that connubbio that exists between the technique and the art that produces; Gloeden’s camera was particular because it was very large and transportable, in the sense that the baron entrusted it to his faithful collaborator called “il Moro” because of his dark complexion that he carried with difficulty to the mountains and ruins that surrounded the town. Gloeden was not content to photograph ruins and landscapes, but made them alive by inserting characters in ancient or completely naked clothes according to the idea that was in those days of the era of Homer and Theocritus. As a good German he was very attentive to details, so the poses were carefully studied to be natural, while the models’ skin was covered with an ointment of his own invention to make it smooth and without stains or defects. He soon became famous and this helped him to overcome the bankruptcy of his family and to live in Taormina with a certain ease. Although among his 7000 photos there is not a pornographic or indecorous, his fame grew even for the photos of his male models so much that he was brought to court on charges of sodomy; the accusers, however, withdrew the complaint and paid a large sum to indemnify him because the baron was careful not to exceed the limits of decency at the time. If you look at his photos you understand the skill of Baron von Gloeden not only in reproducing environments, landscapes and patterns in a perfect way but in giving the characters themselves a sense that goes beyond mere reproduction, in transforming, and was among the first , a technical instrument in an artistic medium.