#i love ridiculously rich gilded age ladies

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

~ Henry William Lowe (Hal) Hurst, "Josephine Dale Lace"

Josephine Lace (known as José) was a glamorous Johannesburg socialite, often seen around town in a carriage drawn by zebras. She was supposedly a mistress to King Edward VII, as well as other several influential British noblemen. She pursued an acting career, but eventually gave it up for matrimony -- or rather matrimonies. She was married twice to John Dale Lace, a South African gold and diamond magnate who adopted her son Lancelot from a previous relationship. As if her life couldn't get more colourful, José also survived being shipwrecked at Galway Castle. She died in 1937.

art cr: wikimedia commons

info cr: wikipedia, theheritageportal

[iamthenightcolormeblack]

Pride and Prejudice 1940: "When Pretty Girls T-E-A-S-E-D Men Into Marriage"

Made during the Great Depression, this classic black and white film is loosely based on Austen's novel and is set in what is likely the 1830s rather than the Regency Era (late 18th century to early 19th century). It is an escapist piece which capitalizes on nostalgia for a simpler time by transporting its viewers to a chocolate-box vision of the past, while paying homage to Austen's social satire by delivering plenty of laughs along the way.

Overall Thoughts on the Film:

The first time I watched this movie, I was confused because the plot as well as the setting was revised significantly (the events after Darcy's first proposal are changed to hasten the happy ending; Darcy's letter and Elizabeth's visit to Pemberley are not included in this movie). This changing of plot points makes the 2005 movie a much more faithful adaptation in comparison with this version, in spite of the creative liberties both take with the novel.

Production Design:

The movie is a typical example of Golden Age Hollywood productions, with beautiful actresses and melodramatic flourishes added to increase the drama. Some of the lines are delivered very quickly, in keeping with the comedic style of the time.

The music: definitely not historically accurate. A lot of sentimental, "ye olde timey" string arrangements that emphasize emotions or fast-paced waltz music for balls/parties.

The 1830s costumes are beautiful; it seems as if no expense (or quantity of fabric) was spared in making them. The bonnets are way taller and have more decorations than typical 1830s bonnets. Some of the patterns/fabric choices are very 1930s, and the costumes are exaggerated in such as way as to make the wearers look like fancy turkeys.

Hair and Makeup: very 1930s, with finger/sausage curls, plucked eyebrows, lipstick/lip makeup, and long lashes.

The sets: the dollhouse-like interiors are lavishly gilded and made to look as opulent as possible. Outdoors scenes are lush, with lots of flowers and bushes; the garden in which the second proposal takes place is gorgeous. The set design transports the viewer into an idyllic vision of the bucolic English countryside.

The Lead Actors:

With the exception of Laurence Olivier, the majority of the actors are American, since this is a Hollywood production. Many of the characters in the film's imaginary vision of pastoral Britain speak American or make clumsy attempts to imitate British English.

Greer Garson: while she is definitely too old for the part, she perfectly conveys Elizabeth's intelligence, outspokenness, and sarcasm. Her facial expressions are killer as well; with the arch of an eyebrow along with a snarky side eye, she captivates us all. All in all, Garson effectively shows off Elizabeth's impertinence through her nonverbal acting (this reminds me strongly of Jennifer Ehle's Elizabeth Bennet).

Laurence Olivier: he effectively conveys Darcy's pride while hinting at his deeper feelings beneath the surface (I can see why Colin Firth spoke so highly of Olivier's portrayal of Darcy). Most importantly, the film emphasizes Darcy's intelligence; he is certainly Elizabeth's intellectual equal. While this portrayal of Darcy is very accurate to the book, Darcy's pride does go away pretty quickly (he and Elizabeth form a tentative friendship early on) and his social awkwardness isn't immediately obvious thanks to his charm. Also the unflattering hairstyle with the greasy hair and painted on sideburns makes me sad.

Key Scenes:

Opening scene: The title card appeals directly to the audience's nostalgia for a sentimental, romanticized past: “It happened in OLD ENGLAND (this was actually capitalized), in the village of Meryton…” The Bennet women are at a fabric shop, where they gossip with aunt Phillips about the rich people moving into Netherfield Park.

The carriage race: this scene, which isn’t in the original novel, represents the rivalry between the Bennets and Lucases. The mothers both want their daughters to be the first to snag the rich bachelors.

The first ball: There is a historical anachronism as the music is a waltz by Strauss, who became popular in late 19th century, specifically the Gilded Age; far too early for the Regency Era or 1830s England. Other changes from the original novel include Elizabeth meeting Wickham before Darcy; other events from Aunt Phillips’ ball (which isn’t included in this movie) and Wickham and Darcy’s confrontation are included in this scene.

Elizabeth’s impression of Darcy at the ball: she puts on airs and mocks his casual dismissal of her as tolerable (definitely a parallel with the 1995 version, where Jennifer Ehle does the same, but privately with Jane).

Great comedic change: Darcy introduces himself to Elizabeth after calling her tolerable and asks if she will dance with him (this originally takes place at Mr. Lucas' ball). Right after rejecting Darcy, she instantly agrees to dance with Wickham; in a humorous moment, Darcy evacuates to a corner of the room to sulk while seeing Wickham dance with Elizabeth.

The “Accomplished woman” scene: the dialogue lifted directly from the book for the most part. Darcy, in a departure from his trademark seriousness, shows off his playful side when reacting to Caroline Bingley's "turn about the room." I particularly like this added repartee from Elizabeth Bennet to Darcy, which is clever but also foreshadows her prejudice: “If my departure is any punishment, you are quite right. My character reading is not too brilliant.”

Elizabeth can't stand Mr. Collins: After twirling about his monocle, he pronounces that: “It might interest you to know my taste was formed by lady Catherine de Bourgh.” The best part of this scene is when Elizabeth plucks a wrong note on her harp when Collins gets really annoying.

The Netherfield ball (which is now a garden party):

Elizabeth running away from Mr. Collins: She looks rather ridiculous, almost like an overdressed turkey, in a white dress with puffy sleeves as she runs away from an overeager Collins. Then she hides in the bushes while Darcy helps her to hide, telling Collins he doesn't know where she is. It's fun but most likely not something a proper lady and gentleman would do (two people of the opposite gender out alone, shock!).

The archery scene: Darcy attempts to teach Elizabeth how to shoot a bow and arrow, even though he doesn’t hit the bullseye. She goes on to impress him by perfectly hitting the bullseye every time; Darcy learns his lesson: "Next time I talk to a young lady about archery I won't be so patronizing." Caroline Bingley, very passive aggressive as usual, shows up for her archery lesson right after and it's absolutely perfect.

Mr. Collins attempts to introduce himself to Mr. Darcy: Laurence Olivier captures Darcy so perfectly in this scene (really set the precedent for Colin Firth). When Mr. Collins starts talking (inviting Elizabeth to dance with him) Darcy tries to keep himself well-composed but has a pained expression on his face as if he’s about to pass out. Olivier masters the way Darcy can look so miserable but also disgusted and proud at the same time.

Mr. Collin's proposal to Elizabeth: I like the added touch of Mrs. Bennet pulling Elizabeth back by her skirt when she tries to run out of the room. The dialogue is taken directly from the book, and the scene is made even funnier when Collins holds on to Elizabeth's hand desperately and doesn’t let her get away. My only quibble is that Elizabeth isn’t indignant enough when Mr. Collins doesn't take no for an answer.

Elizabeth and Darcy at Rosings: I like that Olivier subtly indicates that Darcy is clearly affected upon seeing Elizabeth at Rosing, hinting at deeper feelings beneath the surface. I also like how the scriptwriter emphasizes that Darcy indirectly praises Elizabeth and enjoys their conversations, while she remains convinced that he hates her. Sadly, the original dialogue of the piano scene is not included, which is unfortunate as it allows Darcy to reveal his introvert tendencies, calling into question Elizabeth's assertion that he is unpardonably proud.

First proposal: The famous opening lines are mutilated with awkward punctuation: “It’s no use. I’ve struggled in vain. I must tell you how much I admire and love you." While the rest of the dialogue matches up closely with what happens in Austen's novel, both of the actors aren’t emotional enough; instead Elizabeth cries very daintily, and Darcy remains serene, which conflicts with the book's description of both of them being very angry and defensive at each other.

THE SCRIPT:

The first half of the film up to Darcy's first proposal follows the events of the original book closely, though certain blocks of dialogue are moved elsewhere and other events such as Mrs. Phillips' party are skipped over. The most significant changes, besides updating the setting to the 1830s, are made to the second half of the book to squeeze the key events of the story into the movie before delivering the inevitable happy ending.

Brilliant Quotes:

Mr. Bennet's reaction to Mrs. Bennet's despair over the situation of their 5 unmarried daughters: “Perhaps we should have drowned some of them at birth.”

Darcy insists Elizabeth cannot tempt him: “Ugh. Provincial young lady with a lively wit. And there’s that mother of hers.”

Darcy is an arrogant snob: “I’m in no humor tonight to give consequence to the middle classes at play.” (Technically the Bennets are part of the gentry; they just are less wealthy than Darcy).

Elizabeth's reaction to Darcy pronouncing her to be tolerable at best: “What a charming man!”

Elizabeth rebuffs Darcy's offer to dance after overhearing his insult: “I am afraid that the honor of standing up with you is more than I can bear, Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth favors Wickham after witnessing the bad blood between him and Darcy: “Without knowing anything about it I am on your side.”

Mrs. Bennet's comment after she sends Jane to Netherfield under stormy skies: “There isn’t anything like wet weather for engagements. Your dear father and I became engaged in a thunderstorm.”

Mr. Bennet's reaction to Jane's fever: “Jane must have all the credit for having caught the cold…we’re hoping Elizabeth will catch a cold and stay long enough to get engaged to Mr. Darcy. And if a good snowstorm could be arranged we’d send Kitty over!”

The sisters' description of Mr. Collins: “Oh heavens! what a pudding face.”

Caroline Bingley at the Netherfield garden party: “Entertaining the rustics is not as difficult as I feared. Any simple childish game seems to amuse them excessively.”

Darcy reassuring Elizabeth after helping her escape Mr. Collins: “If the dragon returns St. George will know how to deal with it.”

Darcy learns his lesson after Elizabeth beats him at archery: “The next time I talk to a young lady about archery I won’t be so patronizing.”

Elizabeth comments about a curtain: “Oh that’s pretty. It’s a pity you didn’t make it bigger. You could have put it around Mr. Collins when he becomes a bore.”

Elizabeth on Kitty and Lydia: “2 daughters out of 5, that represents 40% of the noise.”

Elizabeth sees Lady Catherine for the first time: “So that’s the great lady Catherine. Now I see where he learned his manners.”

Lady Catherine's attitude towards philanthropy: “You must learn to draw a firm line between the deserving poor and the undeserving poor.”

Darcy takes Elizabeth's advice: “I’ve thought a great deal about what you said at Netherfield, about laughing more...but it only makes me feel worse."

Elizabeth and Darcy have a conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam: “He likes the landscape well enough, but the natives, the natives, what boors, what savages … Isn’t that what you think, Mr. Darcy?” With a smile: “It evidently amuses you to think so, Miss Bennet."

CHANGES FROM THE BOOK:

The first half of the film up to Darcy's first proposal follow the events of the original book closely, though certain blocks of dialogue are moved elsewhere and other events such as Mrs. Phillips' party are skipped over. The most significant changes, besides updating the setting to the 1830s, are made to the second half of the book to squeeze the key events of the story into the movie before delivering the inevitable happy ending.

With the exception of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the portrayals of the characters are (generally) true to the book.

As I said earlier, the film neglects any sort of historical accuracy when setting the story in romanticized "Old England," where genteel people pass simple lives that revolve around dresses, tea parties, social gossip, and marriages. A lot of Austen adaptations present an idealized vision of Regency life, where people are dressed immaculately, flawlessly adhere to "chivalry," and find love in the ballroom. This contributes to the misconception that Austen's novels are shallow chick-lit books with flat characters who live for lavish parties and hot men, instead of stories of unique, complicated women who happen to be well-off but aspire towards love, respect, or independence instead of being content to make economically advantageous marriages. Austen's novels are character novels and she doesn't waste time writing about dresses or tea parties; balls, while exciting, are just another part of daily life for her characters rather than some Extremely Big Special Once In a Blue Moon Event.

Austen's multifaceted view on marriage turns into a game of matchmaking. She recognizes it as necessary for women to survive in the patriarchy, since they cannot provide for themselves unless they marry well, but at the same time, presents marriage as a means for freedom if it is a loving partnership between two people that respect each other. In contrast, marriage is a game of manipulating the partners into wanting to marry (ex. Lady Catherine and Darcy's trickery). Also, it seems to be a given that Elizabeth will marry for love, unlike in the book where it is uncertain whether she will achieve this.

Kitty and Lydia's antics are viewed much more sympathetically as those of young people having fun; in the book, their behavior harms the family's social reputation, reducing the chances the Bennet daughters have of making good marriages.

Louisa Hurst, Georgiana Darcy, and Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are not in the movie.

Wickham is introduced much earlier than in the book; he is friends with Lydia from the very beginning. Interestingly, he doesn't begin to trash-talk Darcy until Bingley leaves; in the book he does so much earlier, before the Netherfield ball.

Darcy is more considerate towards Elizabeth at the Netherfield party (ex. rescuing her from Collins), until he overhears Mrs. Bennet scheming to get the daughters married. Elizabeth forms a tentative friendship with him until finding out that he separated Jane from Bingley.

Jane is more obviously heartbroken over Bingley's departure than in the book, where she keeps her pain to herself. In the movie, she runs away to cry, which is uncharacteristic of her.

Collins is a librarian instead of a clergyman. I dislike this change because some Austen scholars/fans think that Collins being a clergyman is a deliberate choice as part of Austen's social criticism. Collins is representative of how hypocritical the Church is, since he worships Lady Catherine's wealth instead of God, and preaches moral lessons instead of actually using religion to help people. My theory is that the change was made because of the Hays Code, which led to the censorship of movies for "unwholesome" or "indecent" things; the religious criticism could have been offensive.

Elizabeth reacts rather too kindly to Charlotte marrying Collins by showing concern for the loveless marriage. While she does worry about the lack of love in the marriage, initially she is extremely surprised, outright shocked, and confused.

The scene where Darcy tries and fails to talk to Elizabeth (the "charming house" scene in the 2005 movie) just before the proposal is removed.

Darcy's letter is skipped over and Elizabeth overcomes her prejudice of Darcy very quickly, as shown when she tells Jane she regrets rejecting his proposal. This is contrary to the book, where overcoming her prejudice is an emotionally exhausting and slow process that continues all the way up until the second proposal.

The Pemberley visit is removed; instead, Elizabeth returns home to the news that Lydia has eloped. Visiting Pemberley is very important as part of Elizabeth's re-evaluation of Darcy's character and provides an opportunity for Darcy to show Elizabeth that he has changed for her. The visit is key in increasing Elizabeth's love for Darcy, and removing it means that the characters have less personal growth (also wouldn't it have been great for the audience to be treated to another gorgeous estate of "Old England?"). Instead, Darcy visits Longbourn on his own and offers his help in finding Lydia. When the news comes that Wickham accepts very little money in exchange for marrying Lydia, it isn't as shocking as it is in the book because Darcy had already expressed his intentions of helping Elizabeth earlier.

Here's the change that bugs me the most: Lady Catherine becomes good; though she is a busybody, her main priority is Darcy's happiness. Her confrontation of Elizabeth is a scheme hatched between her and Darcy as a test to be certain of Elizabeth's love. This does not make sense on so many levels: first, Darcy insists that "disguise of every sort is my abhorrence," so why would he resort to trickery, however well-intentioned, to find out if Elizabeth still loves him? Second, Lady Catherine is a social snob and objects to Elizabeth's low connections; also she has an arranged marriage planned for Darcy. Third, in the book, because Elizabeth likes Pemberley and gets along really well with his sister Georgiana, Darcy would have had some evidence that Elizabeth, in the very least, cared for him. And the added claim that Lady Catherine approves of Elizabeth because she likes rudeness and thinks Darcy needs a humorous wife irritates me further because the marriage of Elizabeth and Darcy is revolutionary since it was made in defiance of societal rules!!! Why, why, why in the name of comedy did they have to do this?!

Darcy kisses Elizabeth (in a stagey and melodramatic way) after she accepts his second proposal. Seems a bit uncharacteristic of him.

All the sisters get married at the end. Happily ever after.

CONCLUSION

This movie certainly was not aiming for faithfulness to Austen's novel; it ignores her detailed portrait of Regency era society and its attitudes and focuses on the "light, bright, and sparkling" aspect of Pride and Prejudice that gives the story its timeless appeal.

All in all, this comedy of manners is definitely a classic thanks to the clever dialogue and jokes within the script, along with some great acting.

@appleinducedsleep @dahlia-coccinea @princesssarisa @colonelfitzwilliams @austengivesmeserotonin

[authorlmfletcher]

Miraculous Valentine’s Day: Day 14

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13490619/14/Love-Bug-A-Series-of-Miraculous-Love-Stories

Valentine’s Day: Eternal Soulmates

Find this, and all the valentine’s day stories from @epcot97​, @livrever​, and I on Ao3 and FFnet.

                                  ________________________________

Eternal soulmates. It is a strange idea to think that your life is somehow intertwined with someone else's in such a way that you are destined to be together for eternity. Most people dismiss the concepts of soulmates as a fairy tale. Or they wash it down to the general idea of romantic love. Which is exactly what Adrien Agreste thought too. At least until he discovered exactly what eternal soulmates meant. Because he had one.

At the age of 14, Adrien had spent most of his life in the relative captivity of his home with a cold, stern father. Confined within the four walls of his room, he spent hours in front of screens trying to connect somehow with the real world. The oversized windows that lined an entire wall of his bedroom gave him a glimpse at the world outside, but cast long bar-like shadows across the floor in a silent reminder that this was his cage.

It was a ring that offered him the freedom he dreamt of - letting him escape through one of those windows and out onto the rooftops of Paris. Changing his appearance to one of a black cat, the power within the ring hid his identity, giving him the opportunity to be who he wanted without punishment. Freedom was exhilarating. He would never take that gift for granted.

When the girl in the red suit crashed into him unexpectedly, tangling them both together upside down, he met her eyes with excited trepidation. It wasn't an instant soul-shattering explosive moment when they first met - that came later - but as he stared into the depths of her blue eyes rimmed in a red mask, there was an overwhelming sense that he knew her.

Shrugging it off, he leapt off to save the day, encouraging his nervous new partner while revelling in the wonder of the world. He hated to go home to his gilded cage, locked behind windows, but his father would be furious if he discovered the truth. At least now, his prison had a door.

He dreamt that night of running. The sounds of his footsteps pounding against cement mingled with the heaviness of his breathing. He had no idea where he was running to, only that he was - buildings rushing by as he pushed forward. A distant voice called to him, his name echoing off the walls.

And then there she was: the girl in the mask. She stood alone, nervously hunched over herself in anxiety of failure. Her eyes met his in desperation, begging for him to help her but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, he knew who she was - a ridiculous idea since his life had been so carefully guarded that he basically knew no one.

The taste of freedom made him desperate for more, urging him to flee the house as himself and not just as his alter-ego. Against his father’s wishes, he escaped through the doors and raced to school, hoping to find the freedom that he desired. Every experience was new and overwhelming and exciting - surrounded by other teenagers and chaos. Desire for friendship led to well-intentioned mistakes and a girl in his class who responded in anger, leaving him confused.

Duty called, pulling him from the new room of potential friends, sending him jumping into the fray against giant men of stone. Finally, he stood side by side with his spotted partner in defiance against the villain, encouraging her to believe in herself. Deju-vu rattled his thoughts for the briefest of moments while her eyes turned from worried to determined and her stance grew in confidence at his words.

It was then, watching her in awe as she challenged their opponent with utter tenacity, her yo-yo whirling in well-controlled movements, that Adrien remembered. A thousand lifetimes flashed through his memories in a single moment, leaving him speechless and gaping at the woman in red. A woman who lived a thousand lifetimes beside him, fates tangled together for eternity. His lady.

Whoever she was behind that mask, he knew that he loved her.

“So she doesn’t remember?” Adrien asked, head spinning with too much, too fast. How does one process the reality of reincarnation and having lived before?  His advisor was a small black cat-like creature named Plagg - an immortal being known as a kwami who granted him the ring’s power of freedom. Plagg embodied the very essence of destruction and bad luck, addicted to the foul-tasting flavour of camembert, and typically aversed to offering much in the way of advice. But today, the cat looked concerned, hovering closeby with his tiny ears plastered against his head.

“No,” Plagg admitted, his words spoken with care.

“ Will she remember?” Adrien couldn’t really understand what exactly was happening. According to Plagg, the black cat and ladybug had been two halves of a whole since the beginning of man. Their lives were fused together with magic, their souls connected in each rebirth of themselves.

While their lives didn’t have to be connected by romance, it usually was. In every case, the black cat remembered while the ladybug didn’t. He was destined to remind her. And when life called its end, it was his life that vanished first to leave her behind and alone until she too passed on - the cycle to return again in the next lifetime.

The lives he’d lived before felt both vivid and hidden behind a pane of obscuring glass. He could only remember pieces, but enough to know it was true. War and peace, riches and poverty, happiness and sorrow. They ran the gamut and left his reality dizzy.

He would die first. The thought should have haunted him, but all he could think about was her. His Ladybug.

“How do I remind her?” he whispered, the vision of her eyes driving his soul to madness.

Plagg explained that this part of the journey was complicated. Each incarnation had a different experience than the past but mostly a connection together in some way, getting to know each other both in and out of the masks.

“And can you tell me who she is?”

Plagg sighed in response.

“No.”

The pull of destiny on his soul turned what had promised him freedom to a whole new adventure. Ladybug filled his thoughts and his dreams. Every moment that he could be with her and learn all about her made his heart sing. He loved her - each and every thing about her. When she laughed, he felt himself melt with joy. When she cried, his heart twisted in agony.

He threw himself in harm's way to keep her safe, taking the hits that were meant to hurt her. Made jokes to make her smile. Relished in her disapproving eye rolls.

He found himself hoping for the villain to attack more often so he could press forward in his attempts to woo her. When she whispered that she loved someone else, he yearned for more but gave her space. Wishing he could tell her of the lives they'd lived together, he waited, trying to respect her wishes and enjoy her companionship as a friend without letting his heart break in two.

As school, he daydreamed of who she could be behind the mask.

Sometimes, he thought he knew who she was -  that girl who had been so mad on the first day of school. He replayed the memory of their meeting in the rain as he apologized for the misunderstanding. It wasn't the same knowing as the first time he had met Ladybug, but when thunder cracked and their hands touched, he had hoped that maybe she was the one. Friendship blossomed between them.

As always, Plagg would caution wisdom in the search because finding out identities before destiny's plan would spell disaster for them both. So Adrien waited, dreaming of the lives of their past.

But as the months grew, he felt a knot in the base of his stomach that just won’t go away. Maybe this time around was when they would just be friends. He didn’t want to believe it - the moments of happiness that she could reveal of her life outside the mask cutting deep into his heart.

“We belong together, my lady,” he pleaded, begging her to listen to him, but she would shake her head with a soft smile and dismiss the thought.

He tried to forget, to accept what it was, but he couldn’t. Memories sank too deep to let it fully go. He tried to move on, to find some level of contentment with someone else, but he couldn’t. His heart belonged to her and her alone.

Time flew past, growing up together within their suits as partners- him always yearning for more and her always avoiding it.

When her happiness turned to heartbreak, it took every ounce of effort not to unleash the black cat's fury on the one who made her cry on his shoulder in deep racking sobs.

That night, something changed within her. Her head would rest on his shoulder a moment longer. Her eyes would linger for a split second more. Her eye rolls less dramatic. Change moved slowly, but he could wait.

As her broken heart knit itself together, he tried to weave himself into it with gentle care and compassion of adulthood instead of the brash dramatics of youth.

At the age of 20, Adrien Agreste had earned his freedom both in and out of the suit, clawing a life for himself away from the overbearing control of his father. Age had brought him wisdom and a heart that loved without ceasing.

Ladybug deserved the best he could be, even if it meant he could be nothing more than her rock to lean on. Because love does that - gives without expecting. But hope kept his heart beating.

They had been superheroes together for so long they were familiar and comfortable with each other's touch. Which is why he jumped at her unexpectedly sharp intake of breath as he touched her arm one day, a fiery burn creeping its way across her masked cheeks without explanation.

He guarded the questions he desperately wanted to know her answers to, waiting with a lifetime of patience.

When, underneath the moonlight, she stepped quivering into his waiting embrace to gaze at him with those beautiful eyes, his hope exploded. Her gloves trailed lines down his cheeks as she gaped with eyes that seemed to be truly seeing for the first time.

"I know you," she whispered, searching for answers.

"I love you," his only response before his lips fell to hers in soft warmth.

The world exploded in that single moment, fire and wind and ice wrapped up into one as their souls collided in perfect harmony. The memories he had only seen flashes of tore through the veil, pieces falling in place as they both remembered everything and every life.  

Pulling apart, they simply stared deep into each other's souls as they wove themselves together. Masks vanished in a rainbow of colour, leaving their faces as bare as their souls.

Marinette. The girl under the umbrella in the rain. His friend who had always loved him, too. It made so much sense now that he understood.

"Adrien." His name spoken in complete and utter love shook him to his core. This was how it was meant to be. Together forever.

He couldn't stop himself from kissing her again.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

come home with me (chapter one)

Ao3 | ko-fi

Bren Aldric Ermendrud has lived with Trent Ikithon as long as he can remember, suffering under his tuition for years, turning him into the strongest wizard possible- and the most miserable young man in Rexxantrum.

Until the circus comes to town, with one Mollymauk Tealeaf as it's ringmaster. And Bren sees a way to a new name, a new life and a chance at happiness.

-

An AU based on the story of Kvothe's parents from The Kingkiller Chronicles

For Bren, life had become all about small acts of rebellion.

They could never be much, he had to conserve what little bravery he had, sheltering it in cupped hands like an anaemic flame wavering and flickering dangerously at every breeze. But every so often it would flare and skip, a strengthening heartbeat, and Bren would slide the change from an errand run up his sleeve rather than turning it over with the goods he’d been sent to buy or he would borrow a book from the city library he knew wouldn’t be approved of, tucking it in his coat, feeling its edges press against his chest like a stab of thrilling guilt as the rest of his selection were turned over and inspected and approved of when he got home. Sometimes it was even as small as waiting until the last possible second to begin his chores, letting his thoughts wander, letting the day be his for as long as he could before he had to remember that his life wasn’t his own.

And sometimes, when he was passing the door to Father’s office and heard, for the first time in years, an unfamiliar voice, he would stop in his tracks and listen.

A small act of rebellion. Never seen, never thought of, never acknowledged by anyone but him, spent sparingly like a last clipped copper penny. But as long as he still had those to give, there was something to live for.

So Bren stopped and he listened.

He knew every single person in the small borough of Rexxantrum that Father was in charge of. He knew the bakers and butchers and grocers who would come to plead that they couldn’t pay the taxes and leave more unhappy than they came, he knew the crownsguard and constables who gave him bribes, he knew the other archmagi with their sonorous voices and quivering hands.

But this voice was new. It was rich and smooth and full of life, it was like music. The more Bren heard of it, the more eagerly he pressed his ear to the crack in the heavy oak door, like a plant aching towards sunlight.

“We are a registered troupe, Mr Trent, I can assure you of that,” the voice said, confident and sprightly, like everything was an amusing joke, “Not one ounce of trouble in the five years I’ve been in charge.”

“Be that as it may, we are a different people in Rexxantrum,” Father’s voice was low and gravelly, instantly making Bren’s heart kick with fear as he recognised the subtle signs of anger, the signs he’d been trained to hear and respond to, to do whatever he could to make them go away.

But the voice didn’t know the signs. It bulled on.

“My circus is for all people, Mr Ikithon. All people crave a little excitement every now and then, a little break from their hard working lives. In exchange for a pitch in the main square and ninety percent of the show intake, your folk can have a night of magic and frivolity.”

“Drinking and debauchery, you mean,” Father’s voice was a whip, smacking down the other and outside the door, Bren flinched, “And please do not call what you do magic. What I do is magic. You are speaking to one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly, sir.”

“I am fully aware of that. And you can call me Mr Tealeaf. Or Mollymauk, I don’t mind.”

Bren’s heart crashed to the floor. Couldn’t the man hear the danger in Father’s voice? Didn’t he realise he had to back away and do it quickly, beg forgiveness?

“Be grateful I am deigning to refer to you as sir at all,” the reply was chilly, the end of every word bitten off, “Your circus may go elsewhere. We have no place for your kind in Rexxantrum.”

There was a long pause. Bren knew he should turn and walk away as fast as he could, move on and forget what he’d heard, go on with his day. Father would be furious if he saw how little work he’d done that morning and what he’d do if he found him listening at the door didn’t even bear thinking about.

But he didn’t. So he was there to hear the soft chuckle and scrape of a chair as Mr Tealeaf drew back and replied, still bright as summer grass though there was an edge to his words that hadn’t been there before.

“Thank you, Mr Ikithon. I’ll be sure to write to Baron de Rolo and ask him to take your fair city off the rotation.”

This new pause was shorter though heavier, weighing like a ton of lead.

“Baron de Rolo?” Father sounded like he was about to explode. Though Bren was no longer afraid. This mysterious stranger had an unseen shield.

“Our patron,” the smile was obvious in his voice, “Though its more his lovely wife who funds our pursuits, she’ll be most upset to hear we’ve been barred from the capital of the Empire. The lady Vex’halia, of course you must know her, seeing as you’re an archmage and all. Our writ of performance is right here, affixed with the seal of Whitestone…” a rustle of fabric and paper, “…as you would have known if you’d asked to see it. It’s the law to do that for all travelling performance troupes, just so you know.”

This pause was all iron, a bitter taste in the mouth.

“One night,” Father practically snarled, “That is all. Then you leave.”

“That’s all we ever asked.”

Bren started as he heard Father’s chair scrape across the carpet. The spell broken, he he straightened so fast there was a stab of dizziness in the base of his skull and his heart lurched like it was getting left behind, barrelling to the end of the corridor and making himself look very busy pulling some books off of the hall bookcase, hoping it wasn’t visible at this distance that it was a completely random assortment, not some volumes to help him write his latest essay.

He couldn’t help his eyes sliding to the opening office door. Father was the first to step out, always in his ceremonial robes, face long and lined and hard. The man who followed was so different, so out of place here in the town house that it was like two completely different artists with completely different sensibilities had been forced to share the same canvas. He was fabulously dressed, in a long coat of plush, plum velvet that forked at the end and whose dagged sleeves revealed long arms decorated in ink and gilded metal; high waisted trousers in the same colour scheme with a split pattern, stripes on one side and diamonds on the other and long boots of supple, soft black leather. Under his arm was a hat, tall and proud, a true showman’s hat. Though quite how it was going to fit over horns that size, Bren had no idea.

A tiefling. An honest to goodness tiefling, here in Rexxantrum.

No wonder Father had a face the colour of a storm cloud ready to burst.

With a smile that said he fully understood the affect he was having on the archmage and was enjoying it intensely, the tielfing swished a long purple tail and swept the hat onto his head with a grand gesture, revealing the fact it had two cleverly concealed holes for his horns.

“You should come to the show, Mr Ikithon,” he flashed a set of sharply pointed incisors, reaching into a cavernous sleeve to pull out a piece of gold paper, holding it out to Father, “Give yourself a night off. See what the Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities has to offer.”

“Thank you,” Father said stiffly, pointedly taking the ticket and immediately letting it fall to the carpet, as if it had never been between his long, white fingers. He made no move to retrieve it. Neither did Mr Tealeaf.

“No, thank you, sir,” the tielfing smiled and started down the stairs, “We’ll cause not a spot of trouble, you’ll see.”

Though in that moment, as he turned, his eyes- drop cut rubies with no pupils- rested lightly on Bren, there at the end of the corridor. Immediately, he felt his cheeks go red, which Father always snapped at him to control as it looked ridiculous with his auburn hair and made his freckles stand out. But the tielfing didn’t snap or look vaguely disgusted. He just smiled and winked, swift and careless, before disappearing down the stairs in a swirl of velvet.

Struck silent, Bren watched with his mouth slightly open, stirrings in the pit of his stomach.

“Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

Father’s voice was sharp and dangerous and it rushed at Bren with a horrible, sickening certainly that he was about to face the weight of all the built up fury and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“Close your mouth, boy,” Father snapped, striding down the corridor until he was bearing down upon him. Even though Bren was twenty five and had grown taller than Father ever would, he still managed to make him feel an inch off the ground by sheer force of will.

“You look like a fool,” he knocked the books from Bren’s arms with a hard, sharp shove, “What do you think you’re doing, standing here gawking when you should be working?”

Bren stared down at his feet, biting his lip hard, “I’m sorry, Father.”

There was a long, horrible moment of silence as Bren looked at the scattered books, lying there like limp, dead birds and prayed Father couldn’t read his thoughts, couldn’t see those stirrings inside him.

Maybe even if he couldn’t see them, he could sense the shadows of them, for he snarled, “If I hear of you having anything to do with those deviant circus folk, I will punish you more severely than you have ever known. Am I clear, Bren?”

“Yes,” he managed to choke out, fear making his voice frail and shaky though he knew that was the desired effect.

Though his hands seemed aged, they moved faster than lightning, tightening around Bren’s chin like a vice and jerking it upwards so he couldn’t help but stare into those red tinged eyes.

“Yes what?”

“Yes Father.”

After Father had turned back into his office and slammed the door shut, leaving only his harsh command to pick up those books ringing in Bren’s ears, he stayed still for a while, eyes closed, , shaky fingers pressed to his neck, counting his heart beats. If he got to ten, he would be okay. He just had to get to ten.

Ten heartbeats came and went and Bren could breathe once more. He started to gather up the books, straightening any bent pages, brushing dust from the covers. He let the simple task inflate until it took up every ounce of space in his head, focused utterly on it, allowed no other thoughts inside.

That was the best way to survive.

But then a glint of gold caught his eye. The ticket Mr Tealeaf left had become caught in the fringes of the hall carpet, looking a little forlorn, like a butterfly who’d forgotten how to fly. A few steps brought Bren close enough to read the embossed printing on its surface.

The Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities. Admit One. All are welcome!

Before he knew what he was really doing, the ticket was in his hand. Then it was in his pocket.

More thoughts pressed in on him and he fended them off as best he could, drowning them out by reading the titles of each book aloud, carefully ordering them by author then by colour, shifting them around on the shelf.

All the while the ticket stayed in his pocket, feeling far heavier than a little piece of foiled paper should.

“Straighten your shoulders, boy. Your feet need to be planted firmly on the ground, how many times do I have to tell you?”

Bren shifted his stance in accordance with Father’s barked instructions, though he’d always felt more comfortable on the balls of his feet where he could change direction more easily.

The ground was cold and hard underneath him, the air chilled. But they had to practise in the basement, there were far too many expensive, important things to break in the rest of the manor.

Magic was dangerous, Father had always drilled that into him before all else. It was only permitted within tight boundaries, under strict rules, compartmentalised and categorised and controlled. Using it carelessly, without understanding, that was for carnival hucksters and hedge wizards, people made to squeeze pennies out of ignorant country folk.

People like Mr Tealeaf, Bren supposed, thinking guiltily of the ticket still in the pocket of his trousers, neatly folded with the rest of his work clothes up in his room.

As he’d dressed for practice, into the loose half trousers and shirt that left him free for movement, Bren made a decision. He’d tear up the ticket as soon as he could, throw the pieces out of his window. Already he was working on three different knots of stress, each one a different scenario where Father discovered he had the ticket and none of them ended well. The risk simply wasn’t worth it. Small acts of rebellion were one thing but outright foolishness was another.

But he’d already been late for practice and hadn’t had the time yet. But he would destroy it. He would.

“We will focus on Evocation spells today,” Father announced, pacing at the other end of the cavernous basement, “Your last essay on that particular subject was poor. Let’s see if something a little more direct will help you see sense.”

“Yes Father,” Bren nodded, holding his hands ready in front of him, mind already flickering through the motions necessary for the main spells he knew.

“Now, I want to see some improvement from our last spar,” Father continued, taking no note of how ready his charge was, how he had dropped into the right stance without needing to be asked, “The last time you were slow to react. It made you clumsy, there was no elegance to it. And-“

His last words were lost to a roar as a burst of fire erupted from his hands and flew towards Bren, straight and furious as a thrown dagger. Bren yelped, all his readiness evaporating as the fire engulfed him, burning where it touched, scorching his skin an angry red before disappearing as its energy ran out.

Raw and tingling, nerves frayed and stinging with the injustice of it, Bren lost his composure, “I wasn’t ready! You gave me no warning!”

“And neither will your enemies, boy,” Father replied simply, letting loose another plume in his direction.

This time Bren dodged, rolling, skin screaming where the rough stone floor scraped against it. As soon as he could, he countered with a thunderclap, making it reverberate through the floor so even if it hit, it would do no more than throw Father off balance. But he couldn’t even manage that. Father simply stilled the vibrations with a blast of his own, the exact frequency to fizzle it out into nothing. And then it was the horrific screeching energy of an eldritch blast, the one that made Bren’s ears ring. Somehow he managed to throw himself underneath it, cowering until it past.

“Like I said,” Father’s voice cut through the screeching as it bounced around the space, “Clumsy. Sloppy.”

Bren covered his face, breathing heavy. It was so unfair. Father did everything he could to break him apart, to knock him back. For him, sparring wasn’t about learning, it was about punishment. Bren didn’t feel like a student, he felt like a punching bag.

It wasn’t fair.

In that instant, all the anger, all the fear, all the emptiness years of it had hollowed out inside him was filled with something Bren couldn’t name. In the crackling, ozone stinking wake of their spells, he stood, held out his hands and let that something fly from him as he spoke a word he couldn’t recall afterwards. Not the simple spheres that had been thrown before, a sheer wall of flame erupted in the space, roaring its fury as soon as it appeared. For a moment, Father was awash in a bright orange glow.

And he looked terrified.

Bren wavered, uncertainty flooding back into him as the wall exploded out of existence. While the heat washed over him, not even leaving a lingering heat, it struck Father full in the chest, making him stagger and fall back with a cry of pain. Bren cried out with him.

The dungeon was filled with a smoke that reeked of sulphur, hanging heavily in the hair like clumps of fine gossamer. When Father stood, his clothes were singed, his hair was in disarray and there was an angry red mark lancing across his face.

Bren was already at the door, scrabbling at the handle, when Father caught him by the collar and dragged him back.

Though he knew it would only make it worse, at the unbridled fury in Father’s eyes, he desperately babbled out, “I’m sorry! I didn’t…I didn’t mean…”

The backhand hit him harder than any spell, knocking his head against the wall.

As the pain rang through him, a less sensible part of him cried out, “I don’t understand! You want me to be a powerful wizard, why do you hurt me every time I beat you-“

A force lifted him and pinned him to the wall, forcing his jaw shut.

“Don’t you dare,” Father rasped, still smoking slightly, “Don’t you dare utter those words. You are nothing, do you hear me? You are garbage. You are worthless. I am doing everything I can to nurture the miniscule scrap of talent you have and you should be grateful I am wasting my time on a pathetic boy like you. Understand?”

Bren nodded frantically, wincing as the press continued, achingly slow but relentless, caught between the implacable force and the cold stone wall.

And then it was gone. He fell to the floor, wheezing and crying, only able to nod over and over and pray it would be enough.

“Clean yourself up. There will be no dinner for you tonight,” Father snapped, turning and marching away.

Bren was still crying as he staggered to his room, lurching for his bed like it was his last island of safety. He pressed his face to the pillows to muffle the sound, knowing Father would be disgusted to hear it, and gave himself over to the storm inside him.

He knew he’d just performed a fantastic piece of magic, far above anything he’d done before, but there was no joy in it. Just a bitter ashy taste.

All he’d ever wanted was to be as strong a wizard as he could be, learn everything, read every book, find a safety and security in magic he’d never found anywhere else. But it was never going to make Father proud of him. It was never going to make the sharp words, the slaps, the strikes hurt any less.

Bren had never wanted to be somewhere else, someone else so much in his entire life.

That was when, for the second time in the same day, a glint of gold caught his eye.

The ticket was jutting out of the pocket of Bren’s abandoned trousers, like it was trying to wriggle to freedom. He could still read half of it, upside down but still, black niello letters etched into the gold.

All are welcome!

Bren tucked the ticket into his latest banned book, slipped it into his ratty old coat, the one Father didn’t let him wear. He swung it around himself, hood up, tucking his distinctive red hair into his scarf. Everyone in the district knew Archmage Ikithon’s red haired ward.

The night air was cold, reproachful, as he opened his window. But Bren didn’t stop, he didn’t even pause, he had to move before Father stopped stewing in his anger and put up the wards around his room to stop him going to get food. Out there was music and light and colour, out there was the furthest thing from in here that there could possibly be.

Out there was Mr Tealeaf, who’d looked at him and smiled kindly.

That’s what he needed right now. So that’s where he went.

[ventrue-rosary]

A Flower of a Different Colour

Part 2 of the tattoo artist/florist AU for Kevir and Autumn. Part 1 can be found here

Kevir belongs to @theravensprince

Autumn welcomes the sound of her alarm rousing her the next morning.  She rolls and stretches with a smile, jabbing the off button and rising for the day with a light heart.

As she roots through her closet, her phone vibrates on the nightstand. Peering at the screen, she sees it's her mother.

‘Hello?’

‘Morning, Autumn darling! You having just woken up, have you?’

‘N-no, of course not. What's up?’

‘Well, today is your day off, right? You’re not doing anything are you?’

‘Actually--’

‘Great! It’s been a while since we had a daughter-mother day. And there is someone I want you to meet. See you at the usual place, in an hour?’

The phone clicks as she hangs up without waiting for a response. Autumn sighs as she texts Kevir.

Sorry, something just came up. Rain check? xo

A second passes before his response chimes. Everything ok?

Everything’s fine. My mama just kidnapped me for coffee -__-;

Need a hero? ;)

Autumn chuckles to herself. She almost, very almost, types out yes.

No, its fine. We’ll meet another day if that's ok? xx

Of course it is. Have fun! x

Autumn prepares herself physically and mentally for the day ahead with her mother. Gods know she loves the woman but sometimes she could be a bit...overbearing.

One hour later she arrives at The Golden Griffon, a palatial hotel complete with a Michelin star tea room too rich for her blood, but Autumn knows she isn't going to be paying.

A handsome elven concierge greets her at the door.

‘Miss Darcelle? Follow me, your mother is waiting.’

He leads her into the gilded dining room--marble floors and walls, large stone pillars rising proudly to the high ceiling dripping crystal chandeliers. The gentle trilling of a slow, sensual piano song swells just above the rabbeling of numerous conversations. In the very centre of the room, a large fountain boasts a golden griffon spouting water from its' beak.

Autumn is led through all the grandeur, feeling a slight bit under dressed in a mint mini-skirt, white blouse and baby-blue cardigan. Behind a screen, on their own private table sits her mother, resplendent in all black, laughing at something the handsome drow sitting opposite her said.

‘Oh, Autumn!’

Both of them stand, Amaranthe pulling her in for a tight hug and kiss on the cheek. Her eyes travel to the drow standing on ceremony, watching the two women embrace with a gentle smile. He is peculiarly dressed in a brimmed hat and an eye-patch covering his left eye.

Her mother pulls away from the embrace, beaming with brightness that would make the sun envious.

‘Autumn, my little leaf, this is Marchion, a new designer I’ll be working with. Marchion, my daughter Autumn.’

‘Charmed.’ He presses a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Autumn shifts her weight from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. ‘Such beauty. Inherited from her mother, obviously.’

Amaranthe laughs. ‘Please, don't embarrass my daughter, Marchion.’

‘I would dream of nothing of the sort.’ He gestures for Autumn to take a seat at the small intimate table between the two of them. Only after the two women are seated does Marchion. A gentleman, it would seem.

‘Your mother was telling me you own your own shop?’

Autumn blinks realising she is staring at him. ‘Hm? Oh, yes! It’s um,  just a flower shop, on the outskirts of town. Its no big deal.’ Autumn suddenly feels very self-conscious about her tiny little business only just making it by day to day.

‘Oh, contraire. To be your own boss at such a young age...you must be a talented, intelligent young woman. I shall have to visit one day.’

Autumn drops her gaze from his dark eyes to her lap.

‘Oh, where are my manners, we still haven't offered you any refreshments.’ Marchion waves down a waiter. ‘These ladies are thirsty and hungry.’

‘I’ll have a refill.’ Amaranthe drains the last if her dregs. ‘And bring us the Midsummer platter, if you would be so kind?’

‘Caramel mocha,’ Autumn murmurs shyly.

The waiter bows and takes his leave.

‘Marchion owns his own business as well, you know? He is a very talented fashion designer.’

‘Oh you flatter me, Amara. It's the model's that make my work so spectacular. Like you, for example. My Skin-Deep line looks breathtaking on you.’

‘Now who's the flatterer?’

Both of them laugh. Autumn squints at the giggling pair. Are they...flirting? The ringing of a phone cuts through their shared laughter.

‘Please, excuse me ladies, I must take this.’ He quickly slips away from the table, answering the call as he does.

Amaranthe beams at Autumn once they are alone. ‘Isn't he wonderful?’

‘Umm, I suppose?’

‘Successful, kind, charming, not to mention sexy.’

‘Mother!’

‘What? I’m not wrong.’

‘But what about daddy?’

‘Of course I find your father sexier--’

‘Can we please talk about something else?’

‘Very well. What do you think about him?’

‘Mama...are you trying to set me up?’

‘And what if I am? He’d make a good match.’

‘Mama, I barely know him! And just how old is he?’

‘Well you can always get to know him.’

‘Mama. How old is he?’

She hesitates, fidgeting in her seat. ‘245.’

‘Mama!’

‘Age is….subjective between full-blooded elves and short-lived species.’

‘I’m 19, mama. It's just...weird.’

‘He’s still considered young by elf standards.’

‘Mama, I don't want to be set up with Marchion.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, because--’

‘Sorry about that!’ Marchion returns. The two whispering women lean back into their chairs.

Amaranthe smiles. ‘All is well, I hope?’

‘Duty calls, to my greatest regret. I must return to work. But please, let me escort you home Autumn.’

‘Oh, um, that won't be necessary, I still have my bus ticket…’

‘Nonsense, you must let me drive you.’

‘I think that's a wonderful idea,’ Amaranthe interjects.

Autumn looks between both of them, looking at her expectantly. She sighs, realising there's no way out of this without offending neither party.

‘Ok, sure. It's very kind of you to offer.’ Autumn smiles, sweetening the deal.

Marchion stands, offering her his arm. ‘Shall we then?’

Autumn looks to her mother, nodding and smiling encouragingly. She stands and takes his arm, letting herself be escorted outside.

Parked on the curb is a sleek and very expensive-looking silver convertible, its windows tinted black. The valet hands over the key. Marchion opens the passenger door for her, revealing a dark leather interior.

The streets pass by outside as a dark-tinted flash as they speed across the city.

‘Your mother seems very fond of you.'

‘Hm?’ Autumn turns her attention to Marchion. ‘I suppose. I’ve always been close to my parents.’

‘You're lucky. Not everyone is fortunate enough to be born into a loving family.’

‘What about you?’

He laughs through his nose. ‘A long, sad tale for another time.’

‘That bad, huh?’

‘You have no idea.’

‘Ok. I won't pry.’

‘Thank you.’ They pause. ‘Your mother...I think she--she seems to want to play matchmaker.’

‘I’m sorry about her. She can be quite...overbearing.’

‘She does mean well.’

‘I know, but the whole thing is ridiculous.’ Autumn scoffs.

‘Would it be? The two of us?’ Marchion turns to look at her as they stop for a red light.

With the full power of his gaze on her, Autumn is smote speechless. The light turns green, and Marchion returns his full attention to the road ahead, as does Autumn. The rest of the journey is short, but silent.

Outside of her apartment, Marchion gets out of the car first, opening the door and taking her hand.

‘Thank you.’

He escorts her to the door of her apartment building.

‘This is where we must part ways. But, it was my pleasure meeting you and I very much anticipate our next meeting.’ He places another kiss on the back of her hand.

‘O-oh..’ Autumn blushes as he turns his gaze up to meet hers as his lips linger on her skin. ‘Um...yeah, me too.’

Marchion straightens, her skin feeling cold in the absence of his lips.

Autumn stands foolishly for a few moments as Marchion drives away, still thinking about his intense, dark eyes and soft lips. She shakes her head to dislodge the images out of her mind, then heads inside her apartment.

Unbeknownst to her, Kevir watches Marchion leave with a vengeful glare, before he shoves his hands into his pockets and continues walking.

[justasmalltowngirl1990-blog]

London calling

Hi guys so this is my first blog please dont expect perfect grammar or any of that shizz cos you know we all make mistakes and nobody's perfect. As you guessed it's about a trip to London. I'm writing it alongside my better half @bloke-interrupted as he is known on tumblr. I know him as Owen.

So this wasnt my first trip to London but I always get that sense of excitement approaching kings cross (I'm a Harry Potter fan). We were going for a weekend of culture and London always delivers big on culture. Me I love love love musicals but this time we went to see a Tennessee William's play bit more civilised but I couldn't sing along (bummer). So anyways we found a great place for breakfast a deli in golborne avocados pancetta poached eggs tomatoes cheese and pancakes it was huge and delicious. Spoiler alert I'll talk alot about food #sorrynotsorry

So then we walked through portobello road place where the riches of ages are sold (Disney fans will get the reference for you less cool people reading this bedknobs and broomsticks). It was really cool and I loved it so we headed off to Camden on the tube which I also love just cos we dont have it where I'm from (public transport is a joke). Camden was everything and more I posed with hulk antman and a moonin (seperatly) there was loads of cool stalls and the food smelt amazing. Then we went to the cube cafe which had pikachu in the window and had shakes again yummy my berry one kicked Owens banana & chai ones ass.

And that's when things went slightly pear shaped. Ladies and gentlemen we walked from Camden all the way to the British museum to then discover actually we had been there in our last trip. I was fine used to walking in cheap primark shoes however @bloke-interrupted

not so much his shoes started crumbling (moral of the story wear socks in your shoes kids). Needless to say both of us had aching feet by this point so we got an uber to Trafalgar square.

Next stop on the culture trip the national gallery where we saw some really old art by some really famous long dead dudes. Dont get me wrong they were good paintings but tbh it was totally over my head I didnt have a clue I even saw a famous horse painting which everyone else recognised. I felt like a fish out of water plus my feet were really hurting by this point . We got the tube back to our air bnb (more walking eugh) which sidenote was awesome.

Rested and ready to hit the town we got the tube back into town for the main event of the whole weekend the play about a night at the iguana. Had a fabulous line up and the noel coward theatre looked amazing. I love all the gilded decorations and the big dome in the ceiling. Somehow I'm into architecture in old buildings no idea why but I love it the grander the better in my opinion. And then it started I swear to God the first half seemed to last an eternity not helped by the ridiculously uncomfortable (seat c15 you son of a .... ) or the fact it was slow to get going. The acting was good and I could not do what they do (my memory is terrible) however Clive owen was the weakest of the main cast I'm sure he will find his groove. Round of applause to the female leads fantastic throughout. The German family ponlintless in my opinion but then there could be some deeper meaning behind them that I missed. The second act way better one of them descends into madness another dies and your left feeling sorry for one of them as well. Time went alot quicker and before I knew it the actors were bowing and we were outta there. I wish I had researched the play so I felt some connection to it I think I would have enjoyed it more.

Now for my favourite part the walk to China town and the best Chinese I have ever had. Pork dumplings, crispy duck, sweet and sour chicken crispy chilli beef and chicken fried rice just amazing my mouth is watering remembering it good job this isn't a vlog or it would be plain embarrassing 😂😂

Anyways the night ended on a high and we tumbled into bed exhausted.

Sunday we breakfasts again at the same place pancakes maple syrup and bacon for me owen had scrambled eggs bacon on ciabatta again delicious and then we were at kings cross looking at places to live in London..... we could afford a house boat 😂😂😂 and people watching always fun.

The whole point of this blog (I know we finally got to it) is to encourage people (if anyone reads it) to take your loved ones to places you have been that are special to you for a fun day/weekend out. For me having someone who knows London pretty well makes me fall in love with it even more and also reignites that persons spark for the place. Watching someone experience London for the first time is magical it's like a kid in a candy store where do you look first and your wonder and amazement is infectious and changes the whole experience for both of you. But when you've seen all the "big stuff" you start to notice the smaller things around London little bars that you never noticed cos your head was in a map or the cute little side street that has wild flowers all around it. Time shared together is never wasted and whether its London or somewhere your nan used to take you it's just so worth it to see your happiness become their happiness.

Peace out guys and dolls xoxoxo

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON DIVINITY’S LEAD RAP, VOCAL PARK HANUI…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Clara CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 23 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: Koala.T ETC: her positive reception early on have given her a greater number of commercial opportunities

IDOL IMAGE

Demure smiles, soft giggles, well-read, the image Koala.T Music paints of Hanui is a delicate, sophisticated one. She’s designed to be the motherly one, loving, giving, a little bit self-sacrificial, maybe. The type of person one might join for a cup of tea when the heart is heavy and needs to have its voice heard. The aim is to have her inspire trust and comfort, give her the air of someone grounded and put-together. She is versatile, fits cute and creepy both well and adds her own a bit more grown-up spin to it.

Upholding the image has never been the issue, Hanui knows how to sell a concept, but when looking at herself on camera she knows she is every little bit what her family wants her to be: chic, feminine and far away from competing with her brother’s highly successful career as an entrepreneur. She left home as per her mother’s wishes and hoped that she might find a way to break free on the way but instead, here she is: shackled to the same concept again. Of course, if she wanted real freedom the idol business isn’t and will never be the real place for it but that isn’t a thought that really occurred to her at the time.

Koala.T has been playing the long game with Divinity and she has been part of it ever since training made her a viable enough option for a spot in the group. She is far from being talented, her skills are all hard-earned through long hours of work but that and her supposedly grounded, sweet nature have given her a running start with the group’s fanbase. Her looks have most certainly to do with her good reception as well, Hanui is under no illusions. And no doubt the pretty face and popularity are what have been garnering her commercial work offers.

While she only promotes with the EVE subunit the prospects of CFs ensure that her face could still pop up frequently enough to remind the world of her existence, so the company has been very adamant about wanting her to invest in that path. Good enough for Hanui, who doesn’t mind the extra money. After all, if she can buy herself free from Koala.T Music eventually she’ll also be able to buy herself free from her own family.

IDOL HISTORY

Very few things in Hanui’s life have ever really been about choice. Being born into a rich nouveau riche household as the family youngest meant being the family’s princess and princesses rarely ever come with freedom. Her home is her golden cage and she is raised to be her father’s newest accessory, a darling daughter to match the beautiful trophy wife and prodigious son. They do paint a very quaint picture, the epitome of a loving and successful family. Now, as far as the cliché goes, there is always a hook, something dark buried behind the pleasant smiles. Except for there isn’t, not really. Hanui’s parents are loving, if a little oppressive, and her brother fiercely protective of her. To the little girl the gilded bars of her cage only look like shiny walls protecting her from the scary world she is told awaits her outside.

And then she grows and the cage seems to shrink. Liberties she had as a child are taken from her as she is expected to deliver more; “you need to keep up your grades, Hanui”, “mind your manners, Hanui”, “we must make father proud, Hanui”, “mother will be sad if you disobey, Hanui”. She feels cornered, her head inching closer to the ceiling with every year and by the time she is in her teens she wants more, more than parents who have this perfect idea of who she’ll become. She’ll study a short programme at a SKY university, she’ll marry one of her father’s business associate’s sons or maybe someone successful she meets while concluding her studies, she’ll have children and be the epitome of a serene, beautiful mother, much like her own. Little Hanui would’ve thought it a fairy tale. Life is easy, after all, when you don’t have to waste a thought on where you want to go. “You can focus on getting there instead,” mother tells her, brushing out her hair before bed. “I am sixteen now, I can do this myself,” she wants to tell her. She doesn’t. It’d break mother’s heart. “I will, mother. I promise.”

Her father looks disappointed when she declares that she’d like to study engineering. “That is not very becoming of such a beautiful young lady, Hanui.” When she asks why, he waves her off. “Engineering comes with a tough industry. Women don’t last long there. And a four-year degree will be wasted when you get married. You won’t have to work, father will find you a good husband. I pinky-promised, remember?” She doesn’t want the promise of a Prince Charming husband she received when she was eight. She wants the long nights up pouring over equations and materials, she wants the thrill of new discoveries, of learning to shape the world she wants it to be. Engineering sounds like a better husband than most men she knows anyway. “How about you ask mother to help you pick a more suitable field of study? It’s good you’re already thinking ahead, but you don’t have to do this on your own. We want to help you, lovebug. Please let us.” They’ve helped her all life long, Hanui wants to protest. She doesn’t.

Her mother is so excited about the scout approaching them, one might think that she’s the one being asked to join an entertainment company. Hanui listens with brows drawn together, not sure if she really trusts the woman chattering animatedly with her mother about the future she might have. “I’m still here, you know?” She wants to say. She doesn’t. Her mother signs her up for an audition without really asking, finds her last minute courses for singing and dancing so she won’t be so unprepared. “It’ll do you good, to get a bit off your butt and do something different than sticking your nose into books,” she explains cheerfully while brushing Hanui’s hair before bedtime. “Trust mother a little bit, yes, lovebug? We just want what is best for you and this is such an opportunity! Imagine, the lady said you could be on music shows and seeing the world if you do well!” There is no real if in that statement. Her mother picked her future like one might pick a pretty dress for a party and Hanui wouldn’t dare break her heart. Not when mother is so genuinely happy for her.

She doesn’t cry in front of her parents. Her brother, now a successful entrepreneur in his own right, is rarely at home but when he is, he is the one to take her aside, stroke her hair, hold her tight as she patches up her blistered feet, ices her shoulders, cries because trainee life is hell on earth and mother and father can’t know. Hanui isn’t good at this. She has to get better, she owes her parents after they invested money into her being able to become an idol trainee but it is so, so hard and she has no idea how to start. She knows it’s her good genetics that got her into the company. “You’re still young,” the vocal coach told her after her first (and very humiliating) vocal lesson. “You will have to work harder than your peers but if you do we might get you somewhere useful still.” Somewhere useful isn’t where she wants to be. Hanui wants the safety of her books, the knowledge that she won’t be ridiculed for her weight or for how awkward she looks in the mirror when dancing, that no one will hark on how she lacks flow when rapping. She wants the three hours of extra sleep she got before she had practices to attend after class. She wants time to spend with her friends at school. And for the first time she is being denied what she truly wants.

It gets better. It’s a cliché and she hates the phrase but it does. Maybe just because it gets easier, because she gets used to the constant fatigue and the scrutiny and the terrifyingly narrow cage she is stuck in. The gilded bars have long ceased to be interesting. But she finds ways to carve out a niche for herself, even if she has long since resigned herself to the fact that she will never be the best at anything. It’s a dull, sad conclusion she draws after years at the top. Her parents are blissfully unaware, only hear that she has been selected to be part of project Divinity and enthusiastically congratulate her. “Oh, lovebug, look at you! One step closer to your dreams!” Hanui doesn’t mention how it has never really felt like her dream. Whatever Koala.T Music has in mind for Divinity, it is a slow race with an equally slow build-up: song cover after song cover uploaded onto SNS start drawing them an audience to showcase the girls to. They’re an experimental project, she understands, and the inquisitive part of her thrives trying to understand the storyline they’re pushing, how every little puzzle piece starts becoming more important in retrospect. She is glad, it makes the prospect of portraying this narrative for the next few years more bearable, at the very least.

It’d be a lie to claim she isn’t deeply flattered by the positive reaction she receives to the part she plays. Interacting with fans makes her happy, gives her a sense of not being completely unmoored, even when she can’t compare to the other girls in terms of skill. It’s all a game, she tells herself, and playing the game is something she grows accustomed to. Her role is infuriatingly reminiscent of the fairy tale her parents dreamt up to her but it’s something she’s familiar with, something she knows how to deliver. So she pushes back the girl made of fire and stardust. Just for a little longer, she tells herself every day, refuses to think of how much time “a little longer” truly is.

Divinity debuts and it’s really not grandiose. No one is really surprised but Hanui still feels guilty when she sees her parent’s disappointment, embarrassment when she hears them tell their friends how they should give their music a go. “Our Hanui is part of that group!” She isn’t sure that really helps their case when she knows more than enough of her father’s friends never saw why she would choose idol life over university. If only they could stop. It’d save them a lot of grief if they did. The offer to star in a CF a bit over six months later comes a bit as a surprise, especially because it is an invitation extended to only her. And when Hanui thinks of herself in the future she can imagine doing this until she has enough money of her own to choose her own way.

Maybe by then she’ll finally be able to rid herself of her golden cage.