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send things.

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The Austin American, Texas, June 20, 1934

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this is so hilarious

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Wonka's anger is carbonated. Reactive. Mentos in soda. A fizzing fountain foaming up to his eardrums. So rapturously rupturing his top hat threatens to rocket away. Face a mighty concentration of red 40.

His attention whisks around the chocolate room, slit coat tail flaring out behind as he turns and turns, looking for the stray child. Mary finds him. Rather, flitter-flocks to him. That innate guardian guidance honing in like a mother goose gathering her adrift gosling. Her umbrella handle is tucked under her armpit, the canopy end hidden beneath her black coat stumping her rump into a duck tail. Wonka hovers idly, half expecting a territorial honk, and when one does not come, he saunters over, supervising from the soggy edge of the marshmallow marsh (not cream).

Mary hooks her umbrella on a nearby peppermint tree branch, transforming, only superficially, into a human once more. Arms free, she begins unspooling her scarf from her neck.

When most grownups would squawk, Mary coos composedly. A rich stream of chastising advice Wonka would—often diabolic but atypically dazzled—stamp his 'W' signet ring on. (Comparatively, his natural inclination is to dunk the boy further down with a good swatting of his cane to the head; he is strenuously electing to dunk that urge instead.)

Not at all helping, to Marcus who is being yanked—unsuccessfully—out of the marsh by Mary:

"Glued in?"

Musing aloud:

"I thought I made that gluten free..."

Wonka hears petite musical notes—half notes, whole notes, double whole notes, some reminder sticky notes—flitting conspiratorially by his ears; he shoos them away like gnats. Instructively, to the thin air, hand a private partition hiding his mouth from view: "Come back in twelve bars."

Now she's come a cropper. Mark Mary the most educated woman beneath any green grove bower, never you mind the wide-brim of delightless bites snaking a candy canal: indullatrosiosity doesn't even begin to cover the confection she can see, and a not a dab of wrapper to regulate any one of her usual wardlings, let alone—

here she still stands when a how do you do would have been quite cromulent hobknobbing with full foresight of likely compunction with the facefront of un-capitulous capitallioration himself!

"MARCUS!?!"

In a crises, her pink cheeks pinken to pepto. Medicine is outside of William's airspace but just what can fly over that hat top?

The boy's feet are caught in pool of clotted quick-cream. "Oh, look here, I thought we'd been over this one before." She then walks over the blob, swaying with the surface tension just as a bus conductor takes tickets. "It's please first, Marcus, always please, and jam for you to follow with cream last." Unwrapping her scarf - it seems to get longer and longer and longer - until it's tied round his middle like a lifebuoy. "If you must have fun, there is a right way to go about it and with the full, appropriate variety of raisins in your scone."

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Okay, to go along with that question about Wonka meeting his '05 counterpart, how about his West End musical counterpart? How would that meeting go?

let us formally put this to rest. wonka’s rating of the other wonkas:

1.) himself, irrefutably.

0.) book wonka. tolerable. a mite too endearingly silly/kind for his liking. other than this, very good. karmic roots very much intact. wonka respects his origin. they’d get along swell.

-1.) borle’s broadway wonka. far too cartoonishly silly and wacky for wacky’s sake. he gets points for making it clear the entire golden ticket event was rigged for charlie. negative points for his horrendous dinky chocolate room and poor rendition of pure imagination and too obvious of intent to harm the children. tiny boost because “view from here” is very nice (still a bit tacky, but I appreciate the effort of making a new song to end on and the essence is accurate).

-2.) west end wonka. performance and character is sophisticated in personality as compared to their broadway counterpart, closer to actual wonka. wonka would get along well with him, actually, but he loses a lot of pts for all the prev listed reasons in broadway’s portrayal and he doesn’t have the benefit of “view from here”. although he does have whatever the song that’s “a little me” is called. very good. like the double meaning in that. and the song is very accurate to wonka’s duplicitous machinations. he isn’t above broadway because his story has him retire and leave the factory to a child with no mentorship which is wild. if he made better decisions about his life he’d be higher.

-3.) chalamet’s prequel wonka. karmic nature of him is all but neutered. again, kind of just silly for silly’s sake. not all that terrible but wonka’s entire character is about the persona and myth and mystery that surrounds him, a prequel is antithetical to that so this kid can’t score high.

-4.) depp’s wonka. weird and creepy for weird and creepy’s sake. at the bottom because of the strange conceptualization for his personality and for providing a backstory (re: myth, mystery). odd tone and strangely malicious while being incredibly incompetent. how did this man build a successful confectionery empire?

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under a read more b/c it's a long meme stream of images. based on dash hooliganism and current threads.

@glacierfront / @withbeasts / @rejectory / @vitalphenomena / @mctcrcity / @dxsole

taken from here.

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What's the opposite of no—period?

Wonka nods assuredly, enthusiastically, purposely contorting Willow's timidness into something that is not directly questioning his mental acuity: "It's insured." He begins combing through the crowd, cane wagging ahead of him, parting people like a rat tail comb.

Answer: yes and.

Over his shoulder to her: "Doubt is a terrible habit." Worse than chewing tobacco or nail biting.

Willow, as observant as she is, doesn't take much notice of the flash of gold before her -- she has a stopwatch in her pocket, also gold, which is also engraved with a W. For her family name, passed down to surviving members of her family (Which consists of her, and her terrible evil cousin who she stole it back from only recently).

"Oh -- Um. That's very generous of you. Are you sure?"

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someone remind me on october 1st to re-post my pinned info so that the date and time is the same as the golden ticket requirement (oct 1 at 10am).

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[ be kind, rewind. ] van palmer from yellowjackets, written by tori. 21+. canon / arc overhauling. ©

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thank you @ all who popped in to the wwatcf watch party. i love little community activities like this. it was a hoot! if you missed it, next one will be in... five years. give or take.

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punishment for making fun of him

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i briefly lost my mind because i thought the movie inexplicably added an extra great lake to north america in the west. but i think it's just blue paint from the sign below.

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He leans in. “Must have." Sing-songy: "Poor syntax leaves your opponent intact."

" no, no, i've got it all wrong. " she'll pierce this thick skin somehow. " kids must of been scared of you. look at how blue those eyes are....soulless."

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how amelia is perceiving wonka:

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He fans an invisible—red—muleta. Toro!

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with her entire chest,

“ you look easy to bully. “

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the poll is in! wwatcf watch party will be this saturday (april 26) at 4pm (est).

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👕 Tug on my muse’s sleeve // from Kidd! Mister Wonka, he has things to share!

That coat is pure velvet: one of a kind. Hardly a bell pull, as Kidd seems to believe. Wonka brushes Kidd's hand away like it's a fly: those tiny air raid assailants (likely invented by Prodnose) dropping on and ruining his curing confections. Slimy sabotage. Wonka claps, smooshing that pesky thought. "Well, well. Returned so soon? Rather approach’d too late. The capon burns. The pig falls from the spit. Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, and strike you home without a messenger." Kidd blinks, unresponsive. Wonka's posture jolts up, soldier-like. His heels click together. He expects the same from Kidd. Rough, lackluster translation:

"Status report."