#portrait of the artist as a young fan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

epiicaricacy-arts · 4 months

Text

oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention

this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut

i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.

that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)

it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!

i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.

i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!

IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.

okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is

for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.

anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.

ok i’m done

thanks for reading

here’s my dog

#my art #fanart #genshin impact #genshin fanart #lyney #genshin lyney #lyney fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #artists of tumblr

346 notes · View notes

foreludes · 5 months

Text

Blood on the Side of the Mountain

pairing: young!coriolanus x reader

summary: coriolanus snow, a man known for his charm, his wit, and his passion for power, meets a talented artist in the capitol. she spends most of her days painting portraits for prominent figures and finds herself painting one for none other than coriolanus snow himself. through all the ups and downs, will coriolanus and the artist be able to defy all odds? or is this so-called love merely another version of control and a means to a devastating ending?

word count: 1,806

chapter 1: blood on the side of the mountain

Elitism has always been a terrible thing, but it pays well. At least that's what you told yourself whenever you got hired to paint portraits for the most prominent figures in Panem. It wasn't always easy living in the Capitol, especially when your wages depended on your customers. If someone didn't like your painting, they simply didn't pay. And that's how it had been for years. You painted, people looked at it and then decided if it was good enough. It was an endless cycle of not knowing whether you'd be able to afford rent that week. But, it was better than living in the districts.

It was an early morning when you received a phone call from an unknown individual. At first, it sounded like a prank and you almost hung up. "President Snow is requesting that you paint his portrait," the monotone voice said at the other end of the line. Your heart stopped. President Snow? The most powerful and prominent figure in Panem? You were definitely going to be able to afford rent for a while. "Um y-yeah, I could do that," you stuttered as you shuffled around your small and stuffy apartment for a pen and a piece of paper. "When?" You asked as you finally found what you needed. "Do you have time for this afternoon?" Shit, you thought to yourself. You had other clients, people that needed you. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make some real money, one that you couldn't deny. "Yes, I'll be there." The person at the other end of the line swiftly hung up after giving you details about a specific time, what President Snow wanted for his portrait, and where to enter the President's mansion. You couldn't believe this was real.

Now don't get me wrong, you weren't the biggest fan of President Snow. He had a reputation, one that said he was cunning, cold, and hungry for power. You believed that he cared about the people in the Capitol, but you knew that care didn't go past the boundaries of District One and beyond. At least that's what you were told. One of your friends had been in the academy with him. She had said he was determined and motivated, but heartless behind the eyes. He would do anything to get what he wants.

You gathered your paints, making sure the edges of the pans were clean. You turned to your left and looked at the mess of brushes that were splattered all over your floor. You hastily picked them up, washing them off in a small bowl of water that was sitting on your desk. You didn't usually pay much mind to what your paint set and brushes looked like, but this was the President, someone you wanted to impress.

Rescheduling your afternoon appointments was rough. You figured people were going to be upset. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You had now gathered all your belongings in a medium-sized burlap bag. You had plenty of extra canvas left over that would suit the portrait President Snow was asking for, so you picked one out and began your trip out of your apartment. You closed the door and struggled to lock it behind you. You didn't have the nicest apartment in Capitol, that's for sure. But it was enough. You couldn't really complain either, this was the life of an artist, this was the life you had always wanted.

The President's Mansion was one of the most elegant places you had ever seen. The yard was well maintained, as you expected, but it was like nothing you'd ever seen before. You followed the instructions that you had written down on the notepad that was given to you on the phone and walked towards the entrance. A staff member was waiting at the door for you, it seemed like everyone was always at the right place at the right time. You smiled anxiously and said, "I'm here to paint President Snow's portrait." Fuck, I probably sounded so stupid when I said that. Of course, they know I'm here to do that you thought to yourself as you looked down at the canvas that was shoved between the crease in your arm. "Yes, we've been expecting you," the staff member retorted as she opened the door revealing the inner workings of the magnificent mansion. You stepped inside, feeling out of place. You had been in some nice places before because your job took you there, but nothing like this.

The staff member led you to a room further down the hallway in the mansion. The hallways were dimly lit with tasteful light fixtures, ones that you probably would've picked out yourself if you had a place like this. The woman opened the door and stepped aside, allowing you to enter the room first. "You can set up over there," she said as she gestured towards a chair at the far end of the room. You nodded and began to walk towards the chair that had been set up for you. "President Snow will be in shortly." The door closed loudly, causing you to jump a little bit. You were on edge, this whole experience was nerve-racking. What was President Snow really like? Was he like everyone said he was? Was he going to intimidate you? You placed your bag on the ground, pulled your foldable easel out, and placed it in front of the chair. You began to set everything up.

It had been about ten minutes since the woman who had let you into the mansion had left the room. You were too nervous to sit down, yet too nervous to pace. So you just stood there, waiting for something to happen. About five minutes later, the door opened. A man, a little over six feet tall, with platinum hair entered the room. His eyes, even from across the room were pools of blue that you had probably only seen one other time in your entire life. He walked with confidence, the confidence of a man who had power. You knew this to be, President Snow.

"Are you going to shake my hand?" You hadn't realized you had just been standing there the entire time, staring. The deep voice caused you to refocus as you looked up at the man you had been admiring just moments before. It was hard not to admire such an esteemed individual, especially an attractive one. "Oh yes, my apologies," you said as you reached out your hand it meet his. His. handshake was firm, his hands were soft and warm. "My apologies President Snow," you said once again as your hand left his. "Call me Coriolanus, y/n," he said as he walked across the room to sit down on the couch that was perfectly placed in front of your easel. Coriolanus, you thought to yourself, the name fits perfectly. And he knew your name too, of course he did. He hired you.

You had been painting for some time now and the sun was beginning to set, meaning that the light you had been using for your portrait was no longer pouring in through the windows like it had been before. Pres- Coriolanus had been silent the entire time you had been painting. It was intimidating. He sat still, only blinked when he had to, and never moved a muscle. He was the perfect person to paint. Most people you painted complained about having to stay in one spot for so long, but Coriolanus never did. It seemed like he might be someone who appreciated the arts and knew that in order for you to finish, there couldn't be any obstacles. The last bit of light left the room until all that was left was the light from the light fixtures you had admired before.

"Okay," you said as you dipped your paintbrush into the water bowl you had brought. "We'll have to continue tomorrow when the natural light is back." Coriolanus nodded his head and stretched out his arms. The fabric of his button-down tightened around his muscles as he did so, allowing you to see the curvature of his figure. You stood up and turned around and began to put away your paints when you felt a hand on the small of your back. Your entire body froze at this moment, a shiver running up your spine. "The painting," he said slowly as he looked at the canvas, "it's good." You let out a sigh of relief as his hand removed itself from your back. "It's not finished yet," you said as you stood up to look at the man who was inflicting you with so many emotions. You really never allowed people to see your work before it was done, but who were you to deny the President of Panem that right? "I'll be pleased to see it when it's done," he responded as he began to walk towards the door. "I'll have my staff walk you to the door and I'll see you in the morning." And with that, he exited the room, leaving you with so many thoughts.

After leaving the mansion, you could finally breathe again. It was as though you hadn't breathed the entire time you were painting. This feeling made you exhausted, it made you feel all kinds of things. A part of you was excited to go back in the morning, to analyze the almost mysterious man that was the President.

In the morning, you made your way back to the mansion. It was the same routine as before, but this time with a different staff member. You sat down this time to wait for Coriolanus to come into the room. And when he did, you stood up to greet him. The morning sun cast a beautiful shadow of curly blonde hair across his forehead, his tired eyes meeting yours as he sat down on the couch after the greeting. "There's something about you," he finally said as you began to lay your paints out in front of you. "How do you mean?" You asked raising your eyebrow slightly. "You're quiet, you hold yourself with care, I like that," he responded. You felt a warmness enter your body, a sense of validation. He had complimented you. "Thank you," you said as you sat down on the same chair you had sat in for hours the day before.

After a couple of hours, you were nearly done with the painting. A twinge of sadness entered your body. You liked the time you spent at the mansion. It was more peaceful than your apartment, it felt distinguished, and you liked that. "Would you accompany me to lunch?" Coriolanus suddenly asked as you prepared yourself to take a short break from painting.

Now why would the President ever ask you to lunch?

Hi! This is the first thing I've written in a long time but I was just feeling inspired by the new movie. I'd like to continue this series and make longer chapters, but I wanted to see if anyone was interested in the plot. If so, I'll write a much longer chapter 2. I feel like this chapter is a little bit slow because it's just the beginning of what could be a wild series. If you've gotten this far thank you for reading! Chapter 2, if wanted, will be even better.

Edit: Chapter 2 coming out 12/03/23 thanks for all the support!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #tom blyth #snow x reader #coriolanus x you

164 notes · View notes

iwtvfanevents · 24 days

Text

Rewind the Tape —Episode 2

Art of the episode

Just like we did for the pilot, we took note of the art shown and mentioned in the second episode while we rewatched it, and we are sharing our findings with you. Did we miss any? Can you help us put a name to the unidentified ones? Do you have any thoughts about how these references could be interpreted?

Unnamed painting by Marius de Romanus

Created for the show (uncredited artist).

Armand (still "Rashid") tells Daniel that Marius was a contemporary of Tintoretto (1518-1594).

Transformation

Ron Bechet, 2021

Bechet is a New Orleans-born visual artist. He's a relative of the early jazz pioneer Sidney Bechet.

Exhibition Prospect.5 says about the collection this piece belongs to: "Bechet carefully renders the ways vines wrap themselves around trees for support and access to sunlight. At times, this relationship serves both the vine and the tree. Works such as Transformation depict a harmonious symbiosis, as tree and vine both flourish. (...) Through his immersive compositions, Bechet invites us to see history and ourselves in relationship to the beauty, power, and violence of the natural world."

And, from Xula Gallery: "Here, we are gifted with the physical proximity of life and death – How they share the same organic space, how they sleep together as equals. The flora of South Louisiana's natural landscape is cleaved open to expose its roots. (...) Here is botany that has every potential of becoming monstrous. All of these meanderings are used to symbolize the deep historical roots of a family home and exhibits the precariousness of nature, both human and environmental, with all of its nurturing and destructive potential. (...) It is a diaspora body, skin folded back to reveal its elegant and resilient backbone."

Unidentified painting

In the background of the dining room scenes, on the other side of the arch over Daniel's shoulder, we can see a big, square-ish canvas with an abstract painting. We haven't been able to put a name to it yet.

Unidentified painting

Another painting we haven't identified! The backstage picture on the right is from art director Nealy Orillion's socials.

Untitled photographs

Vivian Maier, undated

Maier was a street photographer whose work was discovered and distributed after her death —she took more than 150,000 photographs during her life, and never printed or circulated any. You can learn more about how her work came to light here.

We don't actually see the third picture, which hangs to the left, until episode four. Interestingly, that one is a self-portrait.

Dancers and Berthe Morisot with a Fan

Edgar Degas, 1899; and Edouard Manet, 1872

Degas produced countless paintings of ballerinas throughout his career. While he is often considered an impressionist, he himself saw himself more as a realist and preferred harsh gritty subjects of working class backgrounds. Ballerinas at the time often came from working class or poor families and worked intense grueling hours.

Manet was one of the first 19th-century artists to paint modern life, as well as a pivotal figure in the transition from Realism to Impressionism. The portrait in this scene shows his close friend, painter Berthe Morisot, wearing mourning blacks after the death of her father, but wearing a wedding ring —she was engaged to Manet's brother.

Portrait of Erich Lederer and Paddy Flannigan

Egon Schiele, 1912; and George Bellows, 1908

The Schiele depicts a young Erich Lederer, son of art collectors Serena and August Lederer, whose collection was looted by the Gestapo. The Bellows depicts a young impoverished boy on the streets of New York.

A Doll's House

Henrik Ibsen, 1879

Lestat tells Louis "They'll seat us late, and we'll miss Nora's entrance with the Christmas tree," which quite a few fans soon identified as a reference to this play, in which a housewife becomes slowly disillusioned with marital life and eventually leaves her husband. This conclusion led to the play being banned in certain countries, such as Germany and Britain, and Ibsen was compelled to write an alternative ending, in which Nora's husband forced her to stay.

In the two stage productions pictured above, you can see Kelsey Brennan and Nate Burger on the left, and Assad Zaman and Anjana Vasan on the right.

Unnamed paintings of Papa du Lac and Paul

Created for the show (uncredited artist).

Unidentified painting*

* The running theory is that the woman in this painting is Gabrielle, Lestat's mother; which would mean this is another uncredited prop painted for the show.

Woman in A Fur Coat

Edouard Manet, 1879

Additionally, on the bottom left corner of the frame you can catch a glimpse of another unidentified painting, but we couldn't get any clearer looks of it either.

Autumn at Arkville

Alexander H. Wyant, 1909

The one in the mirror and the one on the other side of the door are too blurry, but we managed to place the one on top of the couch!

The Lone Tenement

George Bellows, 1909

The National Gallery of Art says about this painting: "Bellows has imbued the composition with a sense of eerie wistfulness, recording the precarious positions of those who were being displaced to make way for the future."

Don Pascuale

Gaetano Donizetti, 1842

The opera that Louis and Lestat go to at the end of the episode follows an elderly bachelor, who gets conned by his nephew Ernesto and his friend Malatesta into marrying the nephew's lover, Norina, under false pretenses. You can find a complete synopsis here.

The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee

Rembrandt van Rijn, 1633

Rembrant van Rijn, Dutch Baroque painter and printmaker from the 17th century, is best known for his biblical and allegorical pieces. Rembrandt's only seascape was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston on March 18th, 1990, alongside other 12 works of art. The case remains unsolved.

Most of these were identified by @vfevermillion! As far as we're aware, both the Bechet and the Rembrandt were first named by Gizmodo's Linda Codega. If you spot or put a name to any other references, let us know if you'd like us to add them with credit to the post!

This week, we will be rewatching and discussing Episode 3, Is My Very Nature That of a Devil. We can't wait to hear your thoughts! And, if you're just getting caught up, learn all about our group rewatch here ►

#louis de pointe du lac #daniel molloy #lestat de lioncourt #vampterview #interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #amc iwtv #iwtv amc #IWTVfanevents #rewind the tape #after the phantoms of your former self #analysis and meta #art of the episode

67 notes · View notes

wilbursoot-updates · 10 months

Text

From Across the Pond to Rock the Capital: Lovejoy Takes the Stage

Lovejoy is in this article!

Lovejoy, the sensational British indie band, brought their captivating sounds to The Howard Theater in Washington DC for the grand finale of their exhilarating US tour. Comprised of the immensely talented William Gold (frontman), Ash Kabosu (bass), Joe Goldsmith (guitar), and Mark Boardman (drum), Lovejoy has been making waves in the industry with their captivating hooks and thought-provoking lyrics.

As the last show of their US tour, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation and excitement. However, amidst the frenzy, Lovejoy demonstrated their genuine concern for their fans' well-being. When someone fainted, leading frontman Joe Bates paused the show and ensured the individual received the necessary attention. This act of empathy showcased the band's unwavering dedication to their audience's safety and enjoyment.

Throughout the evening, Lovejoy's magnetic stage presence was amplified by the incredible energy of the crowd. A sea of mini American flags, passionately held by fans, created a vibrant backdrop, symbolizing the strong connection between the band and their American fanbase.

Adding an element of whimsy, a dedicated fan proudly held up a Freddy Fazbear cutout throughout most of the show, adding a playful touch to the performance. Furthermore, the atmosphere was filled with an even greater sense of unity and celebration as many fans proudly displayed pride flags and ace flags, embracing the spirit of Pride Month.

In a delightful surprise, Jay Clayton of the esteemed British anti-folk band Crywank, who had opened for Lovejoy earlier in the evening, joined the stage once again for a heartfelt cover of a Crywank song alongside Lovejoy. This unexpected collaboration highlighted the camaraderie and shared passion between the artists.

As the night progressed, the crowd's adoration for Lovejoy manifested in the form of gifts being thrown towards the stage, a testament to the deep connection forged between the band and their devoted fans.

The setlist, featuring an array of Lovejoy's most beloved tracks, showcased their versatility and showcased their artistry. From the infectious melodies of "Call Me What You Like" and "Taunt," to the poignant and introspective "Portrait of a Blank Slate" and "Concrete," Lovejoy's performance was a dynamic journey through their captivating discography.

The audience's vibrant energy was further reflected in the signs scattered throughout the venue, with the cheeky "DC deez nuts" sign encapsulating the playful banter between Lovejoy and their young and enthusiastic fanbase.

Lovejoy's performance at The Howard Theater was a spellbinding conclusion to their US tour, leaving a lasting impression on both the band and their devoted fans. With their heartfelt music, electrifying stage presence, and undeniable talent, Lovejoy continues to solidify their position as an emerging force in the indie music scene, destined for even greater success in the years to come.

#lovejoy #wilbur soot #across the pond tour #washington dc #articles

186 notes · View notes

ourstaturestouchtheskies · 4 months

Text

The Actress Josefa Hortensia Füger, the Wife of the Artist – Heinrich Füger // Elizabeth Winthrop Chanler (Mrs. John Jay Chapman) – John Singer Sargent // Portrait of a Woman – Alois Julius Paschek // Portrait of a Young Woman with a Rose in Her Hand – Anna Bilińska-Bohdanowicz // Portrait of a Lady with a Fan – Carl Rudolph Sohn // Portrait of Empress Elizabeth – Gyula Benczúr // Miss Alicia Macartney – Thomas Hudson // Lady in Black – William Merritt Chase // Mary Matthews, Madame Julien-Francois-Bertrand de La Chere – Sophie Fremiet // Princess Kotschoubey – Franz Xaver Winterhalter // Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) – Fall Out Boy

for @theold-ultraviolence 🖤🥀

#john singer sargent #anna bilińska-bohdanowicz #gyula benczúr #william merritt chase #sophie fremiet #franz xaver winterhalter #wilson (expensive mistakes)#mania #mania fall out boy #mania fob #mania album #fall out boy #fob #art #art history #lyrics #lyric art

78 notes · View notes

inawearyworld · 4 months

Text

free if you truly wish to be: chapter i

florence fickelgruber, the famed chocolatier's idealistic young wife, ponders her past, her regrets, and her longing for a change. guess what? she finds one.

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~1.7k

chapter one is a shit ton of exposition for the character, but i promise you, dear timothee fans, the content you're here for is coming. i tried to capture the dahl style of storytelling (without, yknow, the racism and fatphobia and all that) which was so fun. this character essentially popped into my head last night, and the story will follow her development through the plot of the movie. after i left the theater, i realized i'd painted my nails to match mat’s costumes without realizing, and then suddenly WHOOM there she was. almost like magic. :)

enjoy!!

(also. even if the cartel’s offices don’t actually have balconies, THEY DO NOW.)

part two fic masterlist

"Free if you Truly Wish to Be", or, "the Chronicles of the Songbird", being a Tale of She who is Truly one Wren Matterson, but More Widely Known-at the Start of our Plot-as one Florence Fickelgruber.

Things were…fine.

In a world such as this one, there was very little luxury for a girl such as herself to hatch, nurture, and follow a dream. It would spark up in the purest of fashions and launch onto its way, glittering with promise of a life’s hopes fulfilled, only for the world around it to force it down a path of compromise and disillusionment until the dream’s poor follower found it nearly unrecognizable.

Such was the lot of Mrs. Florence Fickelgruber’s passion for performance. Long before either of these names were attached to her, she knew she longed to spend her life swept up in poetry and music, creating a better world through the arts she loved.

That dream, she often swore to herself, had not died.

It had simply…not turned out as planned.

For now, at least.

For a little over the past two years, more specifically.

It would have been nice to have the means and time to try to make her own fortune, to experience a sweeping romance with someone her own age, to live in a world fair enough that allowed her to both support her now-faraway family and live according to her ideals; it would have been nice indeed.

But for now, life was not quite nice, but fine. The sleekly fonted Fs that monogrammed nearly every surface in the mansion in which she lived had stood during the beginning months for her husband’s, and now her own, alliterative names. Now, she only saw them as golden signifiers of things being nothing more than Fine.

She was currently perched on an emerald-colored fainting couch in her husband’s office that, despite its plush craftsmanship, had lost any semblance of comfort long ago. She sat, and she considered the striking portrait of the two of them that hung over the fireplace, which they’d posed for when she’d still thought this was a good idea: a self-satisfied smirk rested on his face, and her emerald-manicured hand rested on his chest (intended by her to show her devotion, intended by the artist to show her ornate ring). She sat, and she looked into the hall, and she sat, and she stared out the window for a time, and she sat. Eventually, she picked up a set of paper and an emerald-set quill.

“What’s that you’re writing, darling?” came Felix’s voice from across the room, and she nearly sighed in annoyance, a direct contrast to the way her head snapped toward the sound.

There shouldn’t be a melody to that voice, she thought. Not when he only seems to initiate conversation at the exact moments I’ve decided to do something for myself.

“To the opera house,” she responded as he entered the room.

“Again? I thought they’d rejected you.”

“On the grounds that they were scared to hire me, they said, lest they write my role not fully to your liking and lose their concessions wares because of it.”

“Pish, posh.”

“Do you think, my love,” she asked, standing and moving to him, “that…well, would you dictate something I can write here, to reassure them? They’ll take your word over mine.”

“There wouldn’t be a point,” he said flippantly. “Besides, they’re right. Just keep singing for my radio commercials, darling; the customers love it. I can’t imagine you needing anything else. They’re installing our new grand piano next week, you can have all the little fun you’d like on that…”

Throughout this speech, he’d been digging through the pockets of his impeccably tailored blazer, eventually producing a cigarette.

“Give me a light, pet?”

She gritted her teeth as she lit his cigarette, and he brought it to his lips with a smile. She hated when he called her that.

It used to make her feel…wanted, wanted when nobody else did.

Now it just felt…

“I want to share my work,” she said, pushing aside the previous thoughts and pushing forward the previous conversation. “I want to have a genuine impact on the world.”

“And you will, I swear it. Once Fickelgruber Chocolate’s advertisements started using your voice, sales went up nearly twenty percent, and they’re only growing; if that’s not impact, what is?”

With that, he kissed her before she could give an answer-there was a time I would have romanticized that taste of cigarette smoke-took the half-finished letter, folded it so crisply it nearly ripped, and tossed it into the gold-leaf wastebasket.

“Felix-”

“Just wait until the new radio spots are released. It’ll be marvelous, darling.”

She should have known this was how it would be.

It had seemed too good to be true in the moment. To receive, after a performance in her home city, not only the praises of a world-famous chocolatier but also an offer to travel to and perform in his world-famous city, and later a proposal-albeit more businesslike than romantic-to be set for life, to provide for her struggling family; although, she’d come to learn, her husband would have wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her if he had known of her humble origins.

He’d just never bothered to ask.

Well, save for once-

“I assume you come from a good family?”

“Oh, yes, they’re the warmest souls you could ever-”

“Wonderful.”

I grew up nowhere near those obsessions with reputation; how was I to know he meant “good” in that sense?

Before she truly knew him, she had liked him. Felix was undeniably smart, and not unhandsome; she thought him to have a solid wit and an intriguing way of speech, with eyes and hands that would have been attractive on a kinder man. The clean lines and deep green hues that seemed to follow him everywhere suited her well, and she used to have reason to believe that association with him might give her a platform to create positive change, that he saw her as an equal in ambition and intellect.

Once they were married, once she’d seen him with the rest of his Cartel and realized the depth of his disdain, arrogance, classism, and general apathy for anything that was not himself, that reason to believe had dwindled faster than a sweet drop of hot chocolate on a waiting tongue.

…Not to mention that I could practically see him almost rescind his proposal when he learned I’m lactose intolerant.

But she’d suffered through the resulting throataches and occasional days of less-than-stellar singing that came with the barrage of dairy-filled sweets as she was announced to the world as the famed chocolatier’s fiancee, telling their story (which Felix embellished quite often) to the press over and over again.

“Yes, that’s right,” she remembered him saying on the television broadcast that announced the engagement, “my little songbird has finally found her golden cage.”

She had winced, forced to make it seem like a smile in the face of the blinding sea of flashbulbs. That had been the first moment in which she couldn’t ignore the deeper feeling that this was wrong, and she wondered if anyone watching would notice her flash of pain.

What she didn’t know was that, thousands of miles away, in the middle of a far-off ocean, a boy on a ship had been holding a tiny transmission screen (assisted somewhat by magic in order to obtain a stronger signal), eager to see the news about one of his idols, and that, despite his core tendency to give the benefit of the doubt, that idol lost a bit of his respect that day.

I shouldn’t have done this.

But if my family was still starving, all because I wanted to wait for someone kinder, someone who’d support my dreams, I couldn’t forgive myself.

She was startled from her thoughts by a shout calling from below the office, followed by…

A song.

Felix discarded his cigarette and went to the window, posturing into a lean against its frame, and Florence followed. His arm slunk around her waist, so her hand found its way to his chest; it was the portrait pose again, the frozen frame, the unspoken understanding.

I do love acting.

But I don’t know how much longer I can take a life of…offstage performances.

The boy in the center of the Galeria, though, seemed not to be putting on a persona for the crowd, but rather infusing his entire soul into his song to them. He was indeed meaning to sell something, but his passion for it shone brightly in a way she’d never seen from a businessman, present company included. The people that were starting to surround this young man hailed from all walks of life, and he beamed at them all with the same sunlit smile.

With a flourish, he opened the lid of the jar of candy that he held, and-

Oh!-

Each piece of chocolate had flown from its container and flitted into the air, leading to a gasp of delight from the crowd. Florence was able to suppress her own squeal, but couldn’t stop a flex of the hand, involuntarily causing her to grasp her husband’s tie.

“Don’t worry, pet,” Fickelgruber said, clearly misunderstanding his wife’s reaction, and with the tone of his voice clearly opposite of his words. “His charm over them will be…short-lived. Our business is perfectly safe.”

The boy finished his song to rapturous applause, and it took every ounce of Florence’s theatrical training to keep from joining it. She felt a shift next to her, and looked to the side to see her husband making pointed eye contact with his colleagues in their respective offices. The smirk that used to set her soul aflame-before she’d learned what it could mean-formed slowly across his face.

“Florence?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Go home.”

“I-”

“We’ll take care of him. Go home.”

Saying this, he left her side and swiftly went out of the office, presumably to join forces with the rest of the Cartel in terrorizing the poor young man.

The moment Felix’s presence could no longer be felt, Florence let out a breath.

Turning back to the window, she considered the boy, who was wholly wrapped up in the joy of his work having an impact on those who witnessed it.

Tentatively, and with the slight smile of a small rebellion, she turned the window’s handle and stepped out onto the office’s balcony.

She wouldn’t let his light be dimmed in the same way she thought hers was.

And she would certainly not go home.

#wonka 2023 #wonka movie #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader #wonka #willy wonka #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mat baynton x reader #mathew baynton x reader #fiytwtb #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic

103 notes · View notes