#1971 willy wonka

[gxrefxtish]

Willy Wonka doodle!

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Gene Wilder - Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

[thesimpinquestion]

Anyone else?

[wwillywonka]

☆GET TO KNOW ME♡: [9/?] Favorite Movies

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971): dir. Mel Stuart

-What is this, Wonka? Some kind of funhouse? -Why? Having fun?

[violentlycookingcartoons]

(IF YOU HAVE A BL*EBERRY F*TISH OR KEEP LIKING THOSE POSTS OF SUCH CONTENTS, FUCK OFF!! THESE ARE CHILDREN YOU SICK FUCKS. GET MY ART OUT AND AWAY FROM YOUR LIKES AND REBLOGS PLEASE)

Children I like dressed as children I hate and children I hate dressed as children I like

[spicyboelives]

Now feels like a good time to admit my first crush was Willy Wonka.

[justa-sadjellyfish]

a lot of the CatCF fan base rlly disgusts me sometimes. Friendly reminder that these are literal CHILDREN that you are attacking/fetishizing/ sexualizing. CatCF was not for people to have an excuse to fetishize young children, and also not an excuse for people to hate on the children for all the wrong reasons. (You can have your preferences on which characters you do and don’t like, but isn’t saying you want to throw a child into the sun a bit too far?) if anyone has any further questions I could go on about this forever, so feel free to ask.

[cosmonautroger]

Gene Wilder, Willy Wonka, 1971

[rosesloveletters]

Hummingbird.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Reader

Word Count: 1,009

Warnings: No major content warnings apply.

Summary: Reader surprises Wonka by wearing a formal dress for the first time; Wonka reminds reader of how gorgeous they truly are, inside and out.

Author's Note: A short and sweet fic I wrote some weeks ago. Hope you enjoy!

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

As the sun began to set, golden hour cast its warm, honeyed glow through the open window and upon your skin as you dressed. Silk whispered over your skin as you slid into the gown, the rich, azure fabric cascading down your body in waves, an elegant outfit that hugged your curves so lovingly and tinged your cheeks with a subtle blush of newborn confidence and mild apprehension. 

 Your fingers trembling with excitement; You had never worn a dress like this before. 

You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and the sight of yourself, dressed in such a garment, filled you with raw emotion.

It was a gown fit for a queen, its intricate lace trimming and shimmering sequins catching the light that danced off the glimmering threads sewn into the hem. 

Tonight, you were not dressed to impress, but to express your love.

Your breath caught in your throat as a lump formed in familiarity; you had expected this to end in tears, but the night had only just begun. 

“You look stunning in that dress.”

The velvet caress of his voice from just behind you made your skin grow hot to the touch and your blush darkened several shades. 

You spun around to show off the front, your heart racing inside your chest as though it were determined to escape from your body; you delicately tugged on your neckline, adjusting the fabric to drape across your body in a more flattering and comfortable manner, “you like it?”

You asked the question as though you did not believe his compliment came from a place of honesty and that made Wonka’s smile falter for a fraction of a second. 

“Of course I do, my love,” he insisted, crossing the room in several, casual strides, “everything that you wear is as beautiful as you are, if only because it is you who is wearing it.”

If his words weren’t enough to melt your uncertainty, his actions were. 

He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a lingering, warm kiss against the back of it. 

You let him hold your hand for a moment longer, until you had to turn around. 

You couldn’t help yourself from taking yet another look in the mirror as if you couldn’t decide whether you were comfortable and satisfied with your choice of outfit.

 Willy had never seen you dress up like this before and it concerned him somewhat. 

Not that he was opposed to such a change, however, when you made such a drastic statement, no matter what it was, it always held a deeper meaning. 

There was diffidence in your demeanor.

You were hearing his words, but were you listening?

His arms gently encircled your waist, keeping you held against his front as he gently rested his chin on your shoulder. His wispy, caramelized spun-sugar curls tickled your face as he admired your appearance in the mirror, a gentle, content smile upon his thin lips. 

“You know, my dear,” he began, a tender lilt in his voice as he tried to lighten the mood inside your heart, “you’ve never dressed so formally in front of me before. I consider this quite a special occasion, as with every moment I spend with you.”

“I love you so much that it aches sometimes,” you confessed and without missing a beat, his hand found yours again, lacing your fingers together, licorice twines which could not be pulled apart. 

Your head leaned against his, two clouds brought together out of pure circumstance, held fast by turbulent currents in collision to condensate. 

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes and Wonka’s smile faded; as an empathetic lover, he felt what you did. 

“I can feel it sometimes, too,” he whispered into your ear and his voice sent a shiver straight through you, “deep in my chest…spiraling outward like a galaxy…exploding like a supernova…perhaps it is true that we are all made up of a little stardust…”

‘If this love is meant to feel like a galaxy, then I need for you to know that you are my entire universe…’

Something told you that Willy already knew the words that you would never say.

He did not need to hear it; every beat of his heart echoed what you left unspoken. 

“You…like the dress…?” you asked him tentatively and, as always, Wonka heard what you were not asking. 

No conversation with him was ever so simple as that…

“I do,” he affirmed and with a kiss atop your head, he acknowledged the rest with the grace of a gentleman and the tenderness of a lover, “but not as much as I love you in it.”

You twisted in his grip and hugged him fiercely.

With a fondness that Willy Wonka had never bestowed upon another living soul, he scooped you into his arms and returned your embrace. 

His long fingers traced circles on your back and you could feel the gentle press of his finger pads through your dress, the devotion and warmth he had for you bleeding outward through his touch. 

Everything about Wonka spoke of affection. 

The way he held you buoyed your spirits as well as your body and you felt the uncertainty lifting, replacing your doubts with clarity and his willowy frame against your body made it feel like you were walking on air. 

You inhaled his scent, the deep, chocolatey notes infused with hints of brown sugar and citrus zest. 

He smelled like a delicious treat and you couldn’t help but want to savor him. 

You closed the distance between your bodies, sealed it with a kiss and his very essence seemed to melt on your tongue, a property of the chocolate he made. 

His dazzling, blue eyes held your gaze when you broke apart, his kiss-swollen lips parted in bliss, “I adore you, little hummingbird.”

The nickname made you smile, a sunrise of happiness appearing on your face. 

To love Willy Wonka is to know such great honor as to fly for the sake of sweetness. 

[themarcus404]

We are the music makers,

And we are the dreamers of dreams.

[teavee-kid]

Hugh Golf canon

[inflatingnblue]

No one can tell. 😬😳 Just a bulky hoodie, right? Right?

[queer-cartoons-quotes]

[wwillywonka]

WONKA!!!!!!

[violentlycookingcartoons]

What if wonka got vivziepoped

Here is your malnourished Billy Bonkus 💗

-also I couldn't tell if you were talking about either the film named "Wonka" or the dude himself but have this anyway. I hope you enjoy! :D

[badteavee]

Different Wonkas if they were asked if they were cis

Wilder ! Wonka :

- Wouldn’t actually answer the question , ESPECIALLY if he’s being asked by one of the golden ticket winners or their parents

- Definitely wouldn’t answer in english

- “Il n'y a pas d'identité de genre derrière les expressions de genre... l'identité est constituée de manière performative par les "expressions" mêmes qui sont censées être ses résultats.”

( There is no gender identity behind gender expressions... identity is performatively constituted by the very "expressions" that are supposed to be its results. )

- He actually doesn’t care about his gender identity but he doesn’t fully subscribe to the idea of being cis

Depp ! Wonka :

- Looks at the asker like they just asked something in complete gibberish

- “Well , aren’t you nosy !”

- Smiles and keeps walking

- He’s not cis in the slightest , it’s just unclear in what way

Borle ! Wonka :

- Disgusted that someone would even ask

- Would say he’s “sis”

- Corrects the pronunciation of anyone who says he’s cis

- He’s very confusing about it and it may or may not be on purpose

- Also says he’s “ctraight”