hey! so tumblr eated the last one so i hope this one works (hopefully i got everything, memory is hard) also for some context: the only people fronting at this time was a persecutor (me) and a social protector, both of us don't have empathy and don't stand for the system being pushed around

anyways i posted about how weird it is whenever endos say traumatized people hold privilege over them and an endo came into my replies saying that i'm the reason their friend tried to kill themselves and people like ME is the reason people have issues.

mind you i am nothing but respectful in online discussions (and keep interacting with endos to a fucking MINIMUM!!) unless someone shows me disrespect first, then i am done with them (but never am toxic yk?) so i haven't done jack shit to make their friend wanna kts

but they came into my reply section all talking about how people who are anti endo are so evil and toxic and cause people to end themselves (mind you i mentioned how endos send me gore rape threats and etc and they did not reply to that)

then when i didn't bite and kept pointing out how A. no one was talking about that B. They are trauma dumping and C. they can't guilt trip me they started calling me a kid and an edgelord and calling me names and implying i was just to stupid to see that "[im] the problem". and that they weren't trauma dumping they were explaining nuance (which they lacked so badly. doubt they know the definition of the word.)

they then compared me to ben shapiro and told us they weren't there to have a normal conversation and atp i was done with them.

went to their page to block them and they had posts about hating how people block tags/other people cuz it makes 'people not receptive to other viewpoints' and shit and then they vague posted us. like its not lacking nuance or not liking other viewpoints, its the fact that you're a dick. you don't understand how to properly have a conversation with other people, respect THEIR viewpoints or understand nuance that doesn't fit your beliefs and think everyone should just bend to your will. not wanting people to block people isn't being smart its being chronically online and assuming superiority over everyone who disagrees with you. i have never seen someone so dense ironically talking about other people who disagree being dense. like maybe people just don't fucking agree with you and don't wanna hear your bs.

sorry if none of this made sense!

oh, jeez that's.. I hate how endos try guilt trip us, like no I'm not going to be pro endos just because your friend was bullied or harassed ((obviously I don't think they deserved that, but I'm not going to give up my beliefs and start feeding into misinformation just because that happened)). It's good that you blocked them, because they sound like a fucking dickhead tbh. You are not the problem, they are, and it's so frustrating that they can't see that. Like fuck off with your BS, no one cares about you or your endos shit (not directed at you anon)

Also don't worry, this makes sense ^^

being a carat makes me so happy im gonna puke

an irl vent, literally just personal post do not eat, putting words to virtual paper

it’s another “reading the news makes the urge to run away resurface” day that you can’t really deal with because you’re swamped at work and there is no time to process anything; there’s only work stress overlayed with dread stress. and in the brief moments where thoughts about the outside world slip in all. you can. think about. is how in order to run away you need money, so much fucking money and you can’t bring yourself to figure out how to get more with your shitty worthless publishing degree and a barely functioning brain, especially while the country is collapsing and you sit there hoping it just collapses sooner, collapses faster, for the sake of literally everyone and *yourself* because maybe then it gets a different kind of bad. not this hopeless grey bad that makes your brain go “i can outlive this and if i can’t i’ll kms” every five goddamn seconds but something new. something that is scary because it is unknown and not because it’s the exact horror you’ve been expecting and getting for years despite your best efforts.

and you want to stop wishing ashes for your house one day. not yet. but one day.

Made even MORE things :) just for you this time :)

silver : i'm gonna try and stop flint from killing himself

billy : please don't

#NEED to write more about him but what to write… 👀 👀 👀 ayk I am an avid cneu enjoyer i'm on my knees oh more food would be excellent,,, what i think is great about your au is how it's this exploration of how nico, given his upbringing, would've ended up if f1 was out of the picture (tho of course it's quite an extreme case. my little pampered blond polyglot with a cosmopolitan background lost at sea after losing the one thing that anchored him down (proper racing) 🥺

with that being said if u are possibly thinking about writing more (not trying to pressure you ofc) I'd love to see more of his background. perhaps even a snippet of some (non-)interaction with keke?? alternatively i think a jenson pov would be sickening and delicious

This is NOT what you asked for, but I have been turning over the idea of Nico and his father in my mind, and I don't think he is ready to talk about it with any honesty! Anyway, have this:

The sun is rising after a long night, a molten blaze on the water. Nico’s cigarette smells awful, but the comedown from the race was too intense to handle alone. Lewis spotted him at an afterparty in Cannes, and then Nico dragged him to Jenson Button’s party on a rented yacht. Now Lewis is reclined on the empty seats in the bow, and Nico is halfway on his lap recovering from his own vices. 

“Do you follow the races? Is that it?” Lewis says. Nico stamps out the cigarette on the arm of Jenson’s sofa. He's always around. It's not as if Lewis goes to seedy clubs looking for him.

“No,” says Nico, repulsed. “But Monaco… I like to be on the periphery. Good parties.” 

“Sure,” says Lewis. “If this is your idea of a good party.” He gestures loosely at the vague shape of a woman passed out on the teak deck some fifteen feet away. 

Nico flicks his crumpled cigarette overboard and snorts. “If that were me, you would be on your knees already. That’s your idea of a good time.” He shoots Lewis an almost sober glare. “Don’t argue. You know I’m right.” 

“If you weren’t such a mess all of the time, I wouldn’t have to do it,” says Lewis. It feels important to point out. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” says Nico.

“I kind of do,” says Lewis, staring across the water, letting the rising sun etch itself into his retinas. “When you’re fucking wasted and trying to kill yourself.” 

“It’s my life,” says Nico. He drops his head onto Lewis’s shoulder, all of his silky hair rubbing against Lewis’s cheek. His breath smells like tequila, hot on the shell of Lewis’s ear, like it did when Lewis was furiously jerking him off in the cramped bunks below deck. “You’re the one following me everywhere. Like a fucking guardian angel. You just can’t stand the fact that I’m free. You couldn’t let yourself go if you tried.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Lewis. He reaches around Nico to scrape his hair back and away from Lewis’s face. “I saw your apartment.” Lewis pictures Nico’s Monaco penthouse—the plush carpets, the golden faucets, the view of the water. It sits empty most of the year.

“The apartment,” says Nico, with a dry laugh. “A gift from my father. Fuck him, right?"

“What?” says Lewis. “Fuck him?" It's not—it's a vile thing to say, Lewis thinks. Nico is a vile person, except for when he isn't. "You know, I slept on my dad’s sofa growing up. He was the only person who believed in me. I didn't have a single friend at the karting track. Not one.” 

“So we’re having this conversation,” says Nico. 

Lewis curls his hand into a fist, digging blunt nails into his palm. “Actually, we’re not.”

Nico blows out another breath on the side of Lewis’s face. “If you hate me so fucking much, then quit me. I could have anyone fuck me. Better than you can—easily. You're so fucking repressed that you're impossible to be with.” 

“What is your problem?” says Lewis. He uncurls his fingers and watches the crescent-shaped indents on his palm fill with blood and disappear. 

“What’s yours,” says Nico, bored. 

Lewis sighs—a strangled, frustrated gust of breath. The sun is most of the way risen now, a fiery ball of orange wavering a few metres above the horizon. It looks like the party is still raging on another boat on the other side of the harbour, bodies on bodies crammed on the upper deck, the quiet pounding of distant music floating on the breeze. 

Nico lifts his wrist to point limply at the outline of the other boat. 

“I raced the son of the man who owns that boat this weekend,” he says. Like he didn't just rip Lewis to shreds. “I don’t have to tell you who won. He brought some modified Mustang to the track and tried to wager it. You know, winner keeps the car.” He scrapes his fingers through his own hair and resettles his neck on Lewis’s shoulder. Lewis wraps one arm around him because it’s not possible to deny himself when the wound that is Nico is so raw. “Anyway, he lost by thirty seconds, and when he realized I was high, he tried to swing at me.”

Lewis winces. “So you took the Mustang?” 

“No. I don’t play those games anymore.” Nico wrinkles his nose. “American muscle isn’t my style anyway.”

“Funny,” says Lewis. “You were playing those games when we met.” 

“I’ll take your garage any day,” says Nico, easily. “I want to get inside that LaFerrari.” 

“I know you do,” says Lewis. “Buy one. You can obviously afford it.” 

Nico shuffles impossibly closer to Lewis, draping his legs over Lewis’s lap. In moments like these, Lewis could convince himself that Nico is sober, that he and Nico are just regular people in a regular boat, bobbing in a regular harbour. He imagines what it would have been like if he'd had a friend like Nico when he was younger, but stops just short of imagining Nico at sixteen, sober and starry-eyed.

“Killjoy. Like I said,” says Nico into Lewis’s neck. 

Listen to me. Listen. If you give me the chance to talk about a Henry figure skater au I will NEVER shut up about it. He's so incredibly elite skater coded you don't even know. Brenner is so incredibly "coach who's after glory and doesn't care that he's pushing kids to their breaking points" coded.

I'm going to talk about it under the cut because I have SO much to say

Henry's signature jumping pass is a delayed double axel. What he misses in points on it, he makes up with artistry points and upgrading other jumps to quads. He's one of the few mens skaters who can do a proper Bielmann. His technique is strong, but his artistry is stronger. His nimbleness on the ice and the way he seems suspended in midair on his delayed 2A are what gets him nicknamed "the spider". He's generally quiet and unhappy, which everyone mistakes for him being heartless and aloof. He's not, it's just that Brenner doesn't know when to stop pushing, which is why Henry is never smiling in his press releases. He got two consecutive grand prix finals gold medals before The Scandal where he supposedly attacked a fellow skater before having The most disastrous injury the skating world has ever seen. He's rumored to have killed himself after the whole debacle. (He's not dead. He bums around Hawkins Community Ice Arena at the early freestyle sessions that No One ever attends...except Eleanor Hopper, when Jim can get his ass out of bed to take her) Virginia originally wanted him to "be a man" and do hockey while Alice did FS, but he's not um. built for that, exactly. So she stuck him with Brenner hoping Brenner could make something useful out of him.

When they were younger: Scott (who's part of AV club in addition to working on the school paper) was Not a team sports guy and would rather find more interesting things than football, and who better to talk about than the kid who's going to junior nationals?? They fall out of touch when they've graduated and Henry's time is completely monopolized by Brenner, who wants to craft him into the perfect super-weapon of a skater (spoiler: all he actually does is give him a mental breakdown, a physical breakdown, and get him banned from competition by framing him once he's showing signs of becoming obsolete)

Henry's disaster injury that I mentioned earlier comes about from years of simply being pushed consistently past his limit mentally and physically. He's exhausted. Everyone's body has a breaking point, and he happens to hit that point in the middle of an uncharacteristically sloppy routine on a botched 4Lz. He cracks his skull on the ice, and he's "lucky" he didn't die. It may not have killed him, but it did make his memory of the events leading up to the injury spotty at best, which makes it that much easier for Brenner to pin everything on him being a bad seed with whom he did his best.

After being all but excommunicated from the FS community, Henry drops off the face of the Earth. No one but Scott, Victor, and Alice know what he's up to (which is: dating Scott and having a much needed mental health break).

Henry flies under the radar that way until he meets El, who happens to have been training under Brenner for several years. Henry totally poaches her from Brenner, even though he himself has zero coaching experience. It's alright, because he and El are on the same wavelength when it comes to their approaches to complex skills. The only pictures of him smiling at press releases are after he takes El on as a student.

El absolutely smacks Angela in the face with her skate. Jonathan, high, tells her it could have been so much worse, at least she had her rubber blade guard on. Henry poaching El from Brenner is what reintroduces him to the skating community, but his defense of El in her mini-scandal reopens the overdue investigation into his own scandal. Deeper digging reveals the depth of Brenner's involvement, as well as evidence of decades of concealed abuse within the relationship.

Henry and Alice did pairs as children, and they were actually a pretty good team. Alice fell out of the sport after a bad fall, which Virginia blames Henry for (and Henry silently blames himself for). The blame and guilt in that regard only makes it easier for Brenner to be a piece of shit and get away with it.

Lonnie wanted Will to do hockey. Will isn't the hockey type, but he does enjoy bumming around with El and the Party at public skate. Mike is literally Bambi on ice, but it's endearing.

Jim 100% thought Henry was creeping on El at the early freestyle sessions until he figured out that oh. Henry's with Scott, and Brenner's the sicko. He and Henry started out on the wrong foot and never really recovered from it. They're like two feral cats forced to share territory.

This is 100% me self-indulging with Henry and El's mentor-student potential. He's her rink Dad, okay?

HCIA is nicknamed the "Rainbow Rink" a) because of the rainbow tiling on the lobby floor, and later b) because it's associated with Henry, who's rumored (later confirmed) to be gay.

Scott is also Bambi on ice. It's okay, it's just another reason for him to hold Henry's hand <3

I’m rewatching Brotherhood for the first time in ages, and Barry the Chopper is the funniest character ever, like conceptually.

He’s a serial killer. He’s a ghost. He is a suit of armor. He’s a ghost possessing a suit of armor. His face is a human skull with pointy teeth/fangs. He used to be a butcher. When he found out his body was still around independently of his soul he wanted to chop it up. He tries to kill a 14 year old who is also a suit of armor. He actively encourages said 14 year old suit of armor to kill himself. He gaslights aforementioned 14 year old suit of armor to believe that he’s not real and gives him an existential crisis. He has a crush on Riza Hawkeye. He was roommates with Warrant Officer Falman for like a couple of weeks. He’s shaped like Winnie the Pooh. He went to prison. His name is Barry.

Ok so this might be a case of me being a big stupid dumb dumb, but for ballpit au, if they go back before Afton kills anyone, why don't they just kill him?

Like as long as he doesn't die in the in the suit he wont come back right? And Gregory has experience killing animatronics which I presume would be useful experience in killing Afton, AND he can drive a car!

Just get Gregory to run Afton over! He isn't born yet so he cant be punished, [and I dare anyone to charge him with a crime that happened before he was even born yet without being laughed out the courts] and he even knows how to drive a car as seen in one of the endings, and he even runs over a mapbot in that ending! And Afton wont even come back! There's nothing to possess if he dies by car crash! if Afton doesn't die on impact, just run him over again! And since Afton is dead that means no murders! A Win-Win-Win all around!

if Gregory can break spacetime, he can commit vehicular manslaughter.

So why no murder? unless murder was always the plan then ignore me i guess lol

or is this a we go backwards bit by bit to the very beginning thingy?

also is there somewhere where i can read ballpit au or not?

(i love how alienated you are, nonnie bshsgshs)

Don’t worry, Gregory does consider this option in order to fix everything. (I mean, it’s logical, right?) Here’s the issue though:

It’s not what he was set out to do.

Old Man Consequences saved Gregory from his own demise for one reason and one only: to break the cycle of torment and grief William Afton has created.

Time is a fragile thing. To alter it and successfully mend it anew, Gregory has to take certain steps. Jumping from point A to point C would erase any kind of progress he’s gained. (Think of saving points, or clearing a level in a video game. Beating LVL 1 gets you to LVL 2. Failing LVL 2 sends you all the way back to LVL 1.)

Gregory was told to “save the victims” from first to last, so he could re-shape their timeline so the killings never happened.

Killing William Afton before his first victim is incredibly risky altogether. The task is to break the cycle of violence and grief, not create a new one. This could possibly set loose a whole OTHER chain of grievances and loss, especially when someone especially known to lose themselves in despair and their machinery would still be around to witness it: Henry Emily. (See: Henry’s constant attempts at rebuilding Charlie, isolating himself from this wife and son, going mad, almost taking his own life, burning alongside the souls his partner has slain, etc).

So its a no-no.

Trying to do so would instantly set Gregory and Michael back to square one, instead of fixing everything.

Besides, Old Man Consequences has plans of his own for Afton.

Cw: brief mentions of suicide

Dude that one pro endo system needs to leave people alone they keep harassing everyone, they even went to our side blogs

It's so annoying hearing them tell us the same bullshit over and over again

NO ONE is responsible for any other persons suicide !!!! I don't know that person I just want them to stop harassing me and everyone else

im so sorry about that. They sound so annoying. No one is responsible for someones suicide ((with some rare exceptions of course, but we're not talking about that now)) and it's not fair to blame people for something like that, especially when they don't even know the person that committed suicide. Harassment is not funny, it's not cool. Honestly at this point no one feels bad for you, leave us alone (not directed at you anon but at the pro endos / endos).

TW: suicide

Personal feelings rant about the recent episode.

If I saw this sort of episode content not even a few months ago (ESPECIALLY without a PROPER fucking warning), it would have honestly destroyed me. I was not in a good place then, and seeing how CRWBY has yet again written suicide like a good thing / solution / etc...

If they're gonna insist on writing such a heavy topic; one, they shouldn't treat it as a positive outcome; two, use a PROPER FUCKING trigger warning! Distressing themes could mean literally ANYTHING. And calling suicide a "distressing theme" is just. Awful. There's a way I'm trying to describe it, but basically, by simply calling it a distressing theme, it downplays how actually fucking serious and terrifying being / knowing someone who is suicidal.

I may not have cared much for Little, but on-screen animal death without warning? What the fuck. Not even gonna TALK about what the fuck was up with the cat and Neo. Holy fuck.

Add to all that the fact that WBY just stands there like "Oh no! Anyways, I can't do shit." and this is definitely the most insensitive writing of suicide yet. The fact that fucking YANG just STANDS THERE AND DOES NOTHING when she's Ruby's goddamn SISTER actually pisses me off.

I'm the older sibling, and let me just say that if I saw my brother depressed as fuck then outright suicidal, and I did nothing, I would literally take my own life if he were to actually do it and I just watched like :|

It brings back a thought I often had during that time: no one would care if I died, even if they saw me do it.

Which my family thankfully proved wrong, even if mom's solution was to drag my ass to the ER where they almost didn't let me go after one person talked to me for like 5 minutes when I'd been there for hours.

I can handle bloody stuff, but that's because the shows I watch often have such themes naturally. The disclaimer warning about disturbing content and the nature of said content makes the warning a lot clearer. You know you're likely gonna see some weird / fucked up shit.

RWBY isn't like that. Bloody on-screen injuries / deaths are not nearly as common. Clover's death was easily the most graphic.

Pyrrah and Penny's deaths were haunting, even if there was no blood. Penny's second death barely showed her - the only reason we know it happened is because we saw Jaune holding his sword, then there was some blood. Ironwood died as Atlas fell, without so much as taking one final shot at the main villian + Cinder. Pietro and Maria may as well be dead for all the fucks the show / mains give. I could go on, but you get the idea.

This has become a disturbing trend within the show, but this recent example has been the worst offender of not only the harmful idea that suicide is a solution / good thing, but also a vague trigger warning that does fuck all. Distressing themes does not warn of suicide, animal death, literal torture, whatever the fuck happened with Neo and the Curious Cat, etc.

I have not seen the episode(s) in question, and I don't think I will. In fact, I may drop the series altogether.

[End Rant]

If you like my writing...

I know there's a few of you our there. I can hear you scrolling.

WELL, STAHP!

The concept of a Well, There's Your Problem fanfiction has taken over my brain and I will probably be finishing it in a hyperfixated frenzy after a few more days. I am a postmodern absurdist and this is my Art! However WTYP is very niche and I am making so many in-jokes it is unreal. I am going to post this story/script here, but if you want to enjoy it, you'll need to be at least a little into this engineering disasters podcast.

I am referencing, specifically: The Kursk; The Silver Bridge Disaster; The Atmospheric Railway; The 1943 Frankford Junction Wreck; and (I think) either the Bhopal Disaster or Aberfan. Also, the Ghostbusters films (it's a crossover). I recommend you start with The Atmospheric Railway, it's not too terribly long and you'll find out if you like jokes about rat smoothies before you get into the darker stuff. I gave Ms. Caldwell-Kelly a chance to choose the forms of engineering disaster Gozer the Gozerian would take, but she didn't get back to me. Either I got lost in a torrent of asks or she thinks I'm nuts and fears me. She is not wrong, but I didn't have the patience to wait.

There are all of three fics of WTYP at AO3 and I don't think any of them are quite this... epic. Unhinged, yes, maybe, but not like this. I'll be lucky number four! But I'll post it to Tumblr too, so I can render the slides for ya. Here is a preliminary excerpt:

A (Alice, she still seems to be going by that in podcast land): Right. Right. So, I have a question for you, gentlemen: who, or what, was Ivo Shandor? L (Liam): Sounds like a billionaire. A: And he looks like a nonce! R (Rocz): An early 20th century architect. A: You’re both right, and so am I. He was also a quack doctor, a selenium mining magnate, a cult leader, and the last person ever documented to be ripped in half by an ancient Sumerian deity — after he resurrected himself in Summerville, Oklahoma, in 2021. L: Boss. R: I’ve been to Summerville. They have that temple he built at the bottom of a mine… Well, I mean, they did. Right up until he resurrected himself. You gotta watch out for that, with selenium. We used to use it in our electronics, but silicon’s better for that, and much less haunted. L: That explains the internet. R: I mean, we’re not using it for the internet. Mainly in glassmaking, and surge protectors. It’s all right in trace amounts, but you get enough selenium in one place and the ghosts start crawling out of the damn walls. You gotta put up at least a double-thick cold iron insulator, or some carbonated steel. Fucking expensive. Not worth it, unless you’re a big fan of the paranormal. A: Just so. In fact, next slide, please… [Slide: A collage of various art deco buildings.] A: …the paranormal activity associated with Shandor’s designs was so well-documented that by the mid 1950s, everyone who wanted to live or work in one of his buildings was required to sign a waiver, before even looking at them. I’ve looked everywhere for one of these waivers, but it seems like the mere association caused them to become hazardous as well. If anyone out there should happen to find one, for God’s sakes, email it to me, and then speak to your nearest mental health professional immediately. L: Take a Zoloft, you’ll be fine. R: Just walk it off. A: According to what I could find, the standard language indemnified the buildings’ owners against any and all instances of madness, brain damage, murder, suicide… You might have to bleep that, Devon… D [text over slide]: NO. FUCK IT. NOT AFTER THE DAY I’VE HAD. A:… mutilation, speaking in tongues, and — specifically! — “cranial liberation of the pineal gland!” [laughing] Whatever the hell that means! L [cackling]: What? R [deadpan]: Nah, I wouldn’t sign that. A: Well, I would, because these buildings fuck! I mean, look at those façades! R: I like these little gargoyles right here. [outlining a pair of gargoyles in red, paying special attention to the horns] With the horns. Technically these things are called grotesques, ‘cause they don’t have a drain pipe, but people just call ‘em gargoyles. That’s where we get the verb “to gargle” too. Not a typical feature of art deco design, but Shandor sure did like ‘em. They’re not really sure whether he had a sense of humor or if he was just nuts. L: Both, I like both. R: Could be both, yeah. A: Well, according to eyewitness testimony… R: Not very reliable. [giving each gargoyle a smiling face, with dots for eyes] A: …those stone statues came to life during the 1984 New York Incident — next slide, please!  [Slide: The Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, with a caption saying Artist’s Depiction.] A: …and summoned a 100-foot tall marshmallow man who attempted to end all life on Earth as we know it. [crazed laughter, pandemonium] R: Yeah, I don’t know if I buy that. L: Sounds like another Macy’s Thanksgiving balloon snapped its tethers with murder in its heart. R: Yeah, those balloons are famously angry. Ever since they started using helium, it’s like they got minds of their own. All things considered, helium may also be haunted. A: Rows nine through eighteen of the Periodic Table are all fucking haunted. L: A Macy’s Thanksgiving balloon has black eyes, like a doll’s eyes. R: Yeah, I heard Snoopy ate a whole shipload of sailors during World War II. …Says here Sonic the Hedgehog injured a police officer in 1993, that really happened… L: Yes! Sonic says ACAB!

...Please, if you have never encountered WTYP, I promise you, I have not gone mad, that is eerily close to how it really is, and I am thrilled with it. I've written myself into a bit of a corner concerning Ms. Caldwell-Kelly's levitation powers and lasers vs. a possessed train, in that I cannot allow her to destroy the pocket dimension entirely or it will kill all of them, but if I can get over that little hurdle I should be finished soon.

...Okay, I know how that sounds, but look, if you're following because I curate a fun stream of content, I assure you, that is not what I am about. I do not quite have a strategy for fighting the algorithm yet, but it is my intention to share more things in progress so you at least know what I do. I know I SHOULD be getting Erik and Maggie together at the hotel, but I am not in full control of my intellect and I can only do so much with it.

I'll share a bit of Soldier On with only mild spoilers later, too, if that's okay. I'll try to put up at least a piece of something I've made or am making once a day. It's not perfect, but maybe if I send up a few flares someone will notice I'm sinking and send eyeballs. Thank you for your time and patience!

100 % prepared to live in a constant state of late-October/early-November for the next month while I write my novel

@an-atlas-or-other now you’ll have to deal with me being spooky and depressed for longer >:D

I just have a lot of thoughts though that cWilbur is focsued on "doing one good deed". Despite the red flags of that, is that especially regarding ccrime c!Tommy doesnt want a "good deed" he doesnt want power over his discs, at least not in what happened in the prison. He just wants c!wilbur to talk to him. He wants safety from c!dream entirely.

I think with friend and other things c!Wilbur still thinks he needs to do a good deed, he needs to get lmanberg back, he needs to win the independence, what have you. Though he remarks on Pogtopia being a time of "narrow focused" to his own destruction, it's hard not to see the narrow focus here on "good deeds". c!Wilbur doesn't need to do these deeds to be good, to be forgiven, or to make amends even if there is not forgiveness.

Though the good deeds make sense. The leaving people with "good memories" makes sense, like giving c!tubbo a "victory". Because he plans to go, so i think what he's doing makes sense even if he doesnt have to do this at all.

Okay this article is really written by a hater, which makes it kind of funny to me. I looked her up and all I found out about her was that a) she published a guide to restaurants in Paris, b) she was part of a campaign by extreme right-wing newspapers to defame left wing politicians, going as far as disguising herself as an American journalist in order to harass a politician who then killed himself and c) she once pretended to be “an extraordinary psychopathic case” in order to meet Freud. Anyways, here is her review of Raymond Bernard’s Les Misérables 

Source: Ric et Rac, 17 February 1934

One must commend Raymond Bernard for having the courage to attack Les Misérables. It’s been too long since I read Victor Hugo’s work to faithfully judge if M. Raymond Bernard succeeded in his audacious enterprise but the hugolatres in my family were emitting awful shouts in leaving the little festival organized by the Natan brother in honor of the film, or rather the three films. The next one will be shown at the Marivaux and the last one at the Marignan. I am afraid that you will not see me in those establishments for some time because the debut film, A Tempest in a Skull, didn’t give me a single desire to know the rest of the disappointments in store for Jean Valjean, Cosette, and the Thénardiers. That being said, I must admit that my neighbors at the Paramount theater were very moved the other night. 

“It’s terribly beautiful and that’s it then!” one was saying.

 “Me, I find it remuant (sic),” the other one was saying, but who meant to say emouvant [I gather that they said fidgety but meant to say moving].

That’s all true, by the by. But like Les Deux Orpheline, it’s not more or less. That is to say, there’s a certain dose of comedy throughout the drama. You must understand that when I say “drama,” I’m thinking “melodrama.” The impression of “affectation” is certainly from Florelle, who never stops coughing, agonizing and dying. By a curious phenomenon of mimicry, she succeeded in making a good part of the audience cough. You could have said it was a fatal epidemic of bronchitis. 

The formidable talent of M. Harry Baur highlights the contrast to the point of cruelty. Harry Baur is Jean Valjean and M. Madeleine and Champmathieu. That a single actor manages to create three characters who are so different is a true tour de force that the public probably doesn’t appreciate enough.  

He creates the impression that the shape of his eyes, of his chin, and of his cheeks has changed and that the three characters only share a vague resemblance. I already knew that M. Harry Baur was a great actor. I hadn’t even hoped he’d be this good. His role as Champmathieu particularly is overwhelmingly realistic and colorful. His Champmathieu: we’ve all known someone like him, in the correctional courts, before the justice of the peace, or simply the police. 

M. Charles Vanel and M. Charles Dullin are Machiavellian and unlikeable, as befits them but always in a way that is melodramatic, which may not have been necessary. 

***

Jean Valjean, a prodigiously strong convict, has just been liberated. He walks, he goes from town to town, flotsam that everyone rejects. Everyone except a brave and saintly man, an archbishop, who offers him hospitality. Jean Valjean immediately rewards him by stealing his silver. . .[skipping most of this because we know the plot] . . . 

At the same time, we have been introduced to Fantine, a charming seamstress who, alas! believed the beautiful promises of a man. Fantine is the mother of a charming little girl named Cosette who is put into the care of two innkeepers in Montfermeil, the Thénardiers. This poor girl is right out of Cinderella. She sweeps, she’s smacked around, in short she’s like a sister to the Two Orphans, like I had the honor of telling you earlier. These torturers don’t ask for any less than a big sum of money from the poor little mother, who believes that her daughter is happy and cherished. 

I never have understood why Fantine gives her well loved daughter to people she did not know, when it would have been simple to find a nanny near Montreuil. Right? But M. Victor Hugo had to have had his reasons and then, as others have said, “if it wasn’t for that then the story would have been over right away.” . . . [skipping more because the plot summary, goes without commentary all the way to Fantine’s death and Valjean’s escape]. . .

There you have the first part of the tryptic. I said at the beginning of my article what I thought of the interruption. It would be unfair of me to the director and camera operator if I didn’t tell them that certain scenes gave me sea sickness. Why is Fantine, on her death bed, presented like a woman on an ocean liner tilted 45 degrees, suffering pains that we are left to guess at? There is not a single reason to then show us Jean Valjean with his feet on the ceiling and Javert in diagonal. Yet another wrongdoing of Bolshevism! It was the Russians, unless I am mistaken, who first tried to get photos on unexpected planes. 

Again, you could say “That’s cinema for you!” But what you cannot say that for, oh! that is the monologues of M. Madeleine. His brand new vocation as great honest man has really turned his head around and the poor man gives long speeches that seem to torment many and which make us suffer even more. 

Must I add that with the exception of Henri VIII, with its irresistible colorfulness, “period pieces” always seem disappointing to me. It takes more than hoisting a lantern to the top of a pulley or giving a twisted cane to Javert to recreate the atmosphere. People forget that faces and silhouettes change and that the brave actors of 1934 look more or less like disguises. 

It takes the dramatic power of M. Harry Baur to make you forget that. He is the only thing alas! to defend this film. 

Odette PANNETIER.

yet again thinking about jason todd and frankenstein’s monster parallels

“But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and the helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept and grasped to death his throat who never injured me or any other living thing...You hate me, but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself.”

i truly don’t think jason likes killing. he isn’t someone who gets pleasure from the killing itself, but rather what it would mean for other people. in batman: urban legends, he has a breakdown after he kill’s tyler’s father. killing does nothing but hurt jason, but he does it anyways because he thinks that’s all he can do.

“My work is nearly complete. Neither yours nor any man's death is needed to consummate the series of my being and accomplish that which must be done, but it requires my own. Do not think that I shall be slow to perform this sacrifice.“

i really think jason has suicidal ideation. i mean, he wears a helmet with an actual bomb in it. not to mention, he rigged the building he chose for the batman/joker confrontation. i don’t think he planned on making it out.

“Polluted by crimes and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?“

i think once the anger fades, jason is just left empty. he wasnt catatonic only because of his traumatic brain injury. when he escaped the hospital and started living on the streets, it was a half-life. he was surviving, but he wasnt living. with the league of assassins, he defended when he was attacked. that was it, according to ra's. but in one scene (red hood: lost days) talia speaks to jason about bruce and he starts crying. it tells me that he's disassociating because of the trauma that he faced, through his death and subsequent rebirth. it isnt until hes thrown into the pit that hes shocked back in, because one emotion breaks past that wall he built up: anger. he is consumed by his anger. its the only thing driving him through most of under the red hood now i thoroughly believe that jason isn't the "lose control" kind of angry person. when he's angry, he gets dangerous. jason is so hypercompetent and it really shows in lost days and under the red hood. he is an amazing tactician. but take that anger away, and what are you left with?