heard a story about a guy renting out his flat to the same two people alternating week after week and of course my brain immediately went ’wilmon’. so now i’m imagining a situation where one rents the flat on the odd weeks, the other on the even ones because of work or something. and eventually they figure out it’s always the same person coming in after them, so over time they start to leave little notes like ”hey there’s some brownies in the fridge because i felt like baking but couldn’t eat them all” or ”i think you left your shampoo here last week, it’s by the sink” and the like. maybe one of them misses a week and the other wonders what happened. and maybe, just maybe, there’s a mishap and one week they end up there at the same time…
hopefully you guys are still excited about this in something like 6 months because i may or may not have spent the past half an hour drafting a rough plotline for it…
(if someone wants to come up with a reason for why wille and simon need to be renting a flat every other week hit me up)
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"dealing is so fucking low" MY LOVE MY DARLING, HE MAY BE DEALING BUT YOU WERE USING!!!
my beautiful son, how about we TALK before we get aggressive and we recognize that we should maybe separate ourselves from substances as a whole, considering that they only seem to be causing us more drama
Is it bad that this is the kind of shitty hypocrisy I find so fascinating in Wilhelm? It’s just so realistically teenage to me that in a moment of pressure he’s falling back on something he probably absorbed from Erik or similar sources. (Taking drugs is fine if you don’t get caught, dealing drugs is seen as low.)
Like. Idk. I love a good argument that reveals internal bullshit a character hasn’t quite gotten rid of.
So class-coded, in that way YR does so well, in that it's embedded in the characters' unconscious, internalized mindset, expressed in moments of pressure.
I'd add on: Micke taking drugs because he needs them due to neurocomplexity, and even more so because he's an addict? Because he can't help it? Low. Uncouth.
Versus the Forest Ridge boys taking them to party? That's just how you have a good time, when you know that even if you're caught your parents will just sidestep legal prosecution, send you to a different prestigious fancy boarding school, and/or donate a bunch of money to your current school and fund a new padel court.
Or even versus August taking drugs to excel (or even Vincent – it feels like there's a suggestion he amplified his diagnosis to get more meds so he can give them to August). That's just being canny, and getting an edge.
I really wish YR hadn't evaporated August's prescription med dependence storyline partway through the show.
It offers super interesting narrative class parallels, and also generational dynamics.
We sometimes talk about the uncomfortable similarities between Wilhelm and August, but less often about what it might mean that both Simon and August have/had fathers who are addicts, and who have in different ways profoundly let them down or left them to navigate life on their own.
“The LEGO Movie was my favorite movie of 2014, but it strikes me that the main character was male, because I feel like in our current culture, he HAD to be. The whole point of Emmett is that he’s the most boring average person in the world. It’s impossible to imagine a female character playing that role, because according to our pop culture, if she’s female she’s already SOMEthing, because she’s not male. The baseline is male. The average person is male. You can see this all over but it’s weirdly prevalent in children’s entertainment. Why are almost all of the muppets dudes, except for Miss Piggy, who’s a parody of femininity? Why do all of the Despicable Me minions, genderless blobs, have boy names? I love the story (which I read on Wikipedia) that when the director of The Brave Little Toaster cast a woman to play the toaster, one of the guys on the crew was so mad he stormed out of the room. Because he thought the toaster was a man. A TOASTER. The character is a toaster. I try to think about that when writing new characters— is there anything inherently gendered about what this character is doing? Or is it a toaster?”
— Bojack Horseman creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg commenting on how weird gendered defaults in entertainment are, and why we should think twice about them. Excerpted from this longer original post.
(via 360degreesasthecrowflies)
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i love making friends in fandom, i love playing with our toys together, i love coming up with increasingly niche aus, i love lifting strangers up, i love motivating people to create, i love watching someone get excited over an idea and immediately running with it, i love yelling in tags together, i love seeing someone gain confidence in their writing/art because people were kind to them <33
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Helloooo! For the prompts, if you're still doing them. #32, “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified."
So excited to see where you take this!
Thanks @knopityknope! Belatedly making good on these prompts... I may be slow but I've enjoyed writing these and my asks are clear so feel free to send more.
“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified" + Wilmon. Post-canon, aged-up. Teen, 1.1k. Continued below the cut or read on A03.
With his eyes closed and headphones on, Simon isn’t aware of his presence until Wille is already rolling onto the bed beside him, angled sideways so his feet hang off the edge. He presses his face against Simon’s ribs and Simon feels him inhale deeply.
Simon slips the headphones off one ear. “Hey,” he murmurs. “What’s up?”
“Taking a break. I need to finish this before I can let myself go to bed, but just wanted to be near you for a minute.”
“Okay.” Simon dances his fingers down Wille’s bare arm, tracing the cluster of freckles above his elbow. “I’m just chilling.”
“What are you listening to?”
“My phone is nearly full so I was trying to delete stuff and found some old stuff I forgot I had on there.”
“What kind of old stuff?” Wille lifts his head to rest his chin on Simon’s stomach.
Simon squirms. “Like voice memos, songs I was working on.”
“How old are we talking?”
“Mostly high school. A few from uni.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Simon says casually. He knows that glint in Wille’s eye. “Never did anything with them.”
“Can I hear them?”
“No.”
“Simon,” Wille wheedles.
“Of course they’re about you, if that’s what you’re after,” Simon scoffs, but his lips twitch.
Wille slings an arm across Simon’s waist and squeezes. “Please?”
“Absolutely not.”
Wille skates cool fingers up under the hem of Simon’s shirt. “Why not?”
“Because they’re not good.”
“I’ll be judge of that.”
“No, you won’t. Because I’ve already deleted them.”
“Simon!” Wille jolts. “No!”
The flicker of genuine feeling that passes across Wille’s face is enough to make Simon soften. “I didn’t delete them. Yet.”
“You can’t! I want to hear them. Please?”
“No. You’ll be insufferable.”
Wille wiggles an eyebrow, grinning that toothy grin that still makes Simon’s stomach jump even after all this time. “Please?”
“Wille,” Simon groans.
“At least keep them for yourself.” Wille’s voice is suddenly serious, as he absently traces a pattern with his finger on the sensitive skin above Simon’s hip. “For… To remember the you you were back then.”
Simon shivers. “You’re a sap.”
Wille shrugs good-naturedly and Simon feels the movement over his entire body.
“How about a trade?”
Simon gives him a questioning look, and Wille rolls himself off Simon, off the bed, and only pauses when he’s in the doorway to toss back, “just give me a sec.”
“I thought you had something to finish up before we go to bed?” Simon calls after him.
When Wille returns two minutes later with one of his old notebooks, which Simon knows are usually stashed behind a row of books in the living room, he slides cross-legged onto the bed, facing Simon.
He flips through the pages, eyes scanning, that focused furrow in his brow that Simon adores, and he suddenly wonders if he’s ever told Wille how much.
“Aha,” Wille murmurs with satisfaction. “Here’s one.” He sets the notebook down and unfolds a piece of paper that was tucked in between the pages.
His eyes scan across the sheet. When he glances up to meet Simon’s questioning gaze, his eyes are a bit shinier than a moment ago.
“Simon,” Wille begins. He clears his throat.
“I know everything has gotten so fucked up. I never know what to do.
“It’s not your fault. It’s not Alexander’s fault. It’s not my fault. I wish it were August’s fault but it kind of isn’t. It’s just a shitty situation.
“Did this kind of stuff ever happen to Erik? What did he do? I wish I could ask him.”
It feels strange to be the only one laying down so Simon awkwardly curls up to sit so he’s facing Wille fully, legs splayed. His eyes never leave Wille’s face.
Wille pauses as he adjusts, then goes on:
“I don't know what to do. I wish he were here. I wish you were here.
“I know you're mad at me. Would you still hold me? Or let me hold you? Maybe this wouldn't feel so impossible if you were here.
“I just wanted to feel okay for a little bit... At the party. Or not even okay. Just… blank. Not horrible. Not Erik gone. You gone. Not my future… what the fuck even is my future? How is that even me?
“I’m afraid I’m about to lose you again. And it feels even worse this time, now that I’ve gotten to have you to be with you to know what it’s like to be with you, even a little bit. I think I'm in love I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”
Wille clears his throat again. “Uh, that’s it.”
Simon rests his hands on Wille’s thighs, bracing himself so he can lean in to press a light kiss to the corner of Wille’s mouth, his cheek, just below his eye, where unshed tears glint. “When did you write that?” he says, voice low.
“Uh…” Wille flips the page over. “It must have been before Lucia. Remember how everything–“
“I remember,” Simon cuts him off gently. He presses a kiss to Wille’s mouth. “I think I'm in love with you, too.”
He feels Wille smile against his lips. “Love you.”
They're quiet for a moment, faces close.
“Guess I have to let you listen to one of my songs now, huh?” Simon finally says, but he knows the wet gravel of his voice gives him away.
Simon sits back to scoop up his phone. He toggles through, forehead creased in concentration. “Okay. So remember Rousseau?”
“What–? Felice’s–?”
Simon is helpless to hold a straight face when confronted with Wille’s comically surprised expression, and neither can contain the laughter that bubbles up.
“No more fucking with me,” Wille grumbles. “I was all vulnerable.”
Finally Simon pulls back. “So. Remember those weeks we stayed at Felice’s lake house that first summer? And you found me messing around on the piano a few times?”
Wille nods happily.
“While you were perfecting your overhand serve, I was busy being embarrassing.”
Simon passes Wille the headphones.
“I never gave it a proper title because I never really finished it, but it’s the one called Wrong-v2....”
Not this song but recommended watching for vibes. 😍
still caring about internet friends you lost touch with years ago is so embarrassing. yeah i had a deam we met up irl recently. the last time we spoke was maybe 7-8 years ago. i still wear the laces we randomly decided was a sign of our friendship. i dont know what any of your socials are or if youre even active on any. sometimes i see someones art resemble yours and i wonder for hours. do you still go by that name you chose? whenever i see it i wonder if its you. we couldve passed each other in this vastness a thousand times and not have a clue.
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