#garderenza

[amayzingmayzie]

I want everyone to know that I just cried so fucking hard at Beauty and the Beast 2017 because CADENZA BEING AWAY FROM MADAME IS SO HEARTBREAKING LIKE THEY JUST WANNA SEE EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEYRE IN LOVE WHY IS THE BEAST SUCH A DICK

[myfellowcandlesticks]

Title: Destiny Pairing: Cadenza/Garderobe Word count: 450 Warnings: none

written for @lumiereandcogsworth​ and inspired by this post

There it is: the endless sky. Here, the proud mountains, the yellow stone. Lake Como, shimmering under the sun, rippling with new life. Northern Italy, revelling in the early arrival of spring. It’s a scene from their youth. And although they hadn’t met yet, they’d both been here before—in the same place, at the same time. ‘Destino’, Cadenza calls it. Destiny.

Now they’re back, and it’s spring once more, and they are human again. It’s been months since the breaking of the curse, but still they feel it’s a miracle to wake up with flesh and blood, to wake up at all. They haven’t forgotten that terrible, interminable winter. They still shiver at the thought of it.

But today it’s spring, and they’re standing in the sun, facing the lake. Garderobe leans against the balustrade, relishing the cold touch of the stone on her palms.  She closes her eyes and breathes in the fresh air, the scent of wildflowers and honeysuckle; the smells of her childhood.

Cadenza is by her side, as always, his hand resting lightly on her waist. It’s difficult for them to be apart now—she panics when he leaves the room, when she can no longer see him, sometimes even at night when she closes her eyes. He feels the same; he’s told her time and again. The memory of their cruel separation remains sharp and cold in their minds. When they are alone, they hold each other a little closer, a little longer than they did before.

The mountains stretch at their feet; great, silent giants, embraced by the water.

“Beautiful,” Garderobe sighs.

“You have missed it, si?” Cadenza whispers, his thumb drawing gentle circles on her back. “All that time, stuck in the castle…”

She thinks about it, eyes fixed on the horizon. How tragic and dramatic it would be to exclaim ‘yes, yes Maestro I have missed it so much!’… But that would be a lie.

“No,” she replies as she turns towards him, slowly.

He raises his eyebrows. She smiles at his surprise, adding: “My heart was already full of longing for something—someone—else.”

A slight pause, then he smiles too. That uneven, silly smile that she loves more than anything—only tinged with sadness.

“Amore,” he says, running the back of his hand down her cheek. “Every moment away from you… was unbearable. But we are together now.”

“Yes, yes.”

She smiles again, turns her head, kisses his knuckles. It is wonderful to have a hand to kiss, and a mouth with which to kiss it. Under the endless sky, before the proud mountains, on the yellow stone—they hold each other, knowing that nothing can come between them.

[lumiereswig]

this is a very old fic of mine—i must have written it right after the movie came out. i’m not good at writing horror but this comes pretty close. trigger warnings for intense transformation stuff.

The rain hits the windows, full and hard, but no one in the palace notices. The music is far too loud—the ballgowns too glittering—the ball too white and bright to think of the rain and the roses and the village outside. Lumiere, in shadow against the light of the ball, lets his mind wander elsewhere.

After this party, he and Plumette would be free to dance on their own, in the rooms at the top of the palace. A stolen croquembouche, a little wine, paid for by the villagers; a charming mélange of sex and laughter. A night like a thousand others. Lumiere doesn’t treasure it, much; his life has looked like this for years, and it will look like it for many more. He is happy, yes, but also a shade bored as he checks his reflection against the shine of the candelabras.

By the mantel, Cogsworth notes his watch. The time ticks on. This ball goes on forever. He would give anything to skip to the bit after. Cogsworth finds himself checking his watch often, nowadays, waiting endlessly for time to get to the good part. The good part doesn’t really come, ever, and he doesn’t know why. He just doesn’t enjoy life, very much. So he keeps scheduling it and regulating it and hoping that will force life, somehow, to find some lick of relish that he can’t be bothered to supply.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Potts makes tea.

“Mama,” says Chip, “why does the Prince hold these big parties?”

“I really don’t know, love,” says Mrs. Potts. She used to wonder this herself, but as the Prince grew more into the likeness of his father, she has become used to closing off that side of her heart. No good throwing your love down a well, as her husband says; throwing good crockery after bad, just wasting your time. Nothing I can do, anyway, thinks Mrs. Potts, shutting her heart just a little further as she smiles at her son.

Chip, careless, drops his tea cup on the floor, shattering it. “Be careful, now!”

Chapeau circles the ballroom carefully. He chooses to remain out of sight. Oh, yes, the ladies are very beautiful, and the prince very glamorous; but besides his duties, he makes no effort to help when he sees a young woman run off the ballroom floor, crying because the hell of her shoe snapped off. Chapeau stands still in the dark, his hands quiet, his eyes gliding past the pain.

Cadenza and Garderobe are oblivious as they get caught up in their song; they have been so long in beautiful palaces with beautiful people that they don’t stop to consider what beggars might creep outside the doors, what cold winds might blow past those beautiful cut-glass windows. Why should they care? All of life is cake and splendor and full-frothed gowns. They picked this song tonight because it makes them sound magnificent. And they are: magnificent, remarkable, confident and unconquerable.

Plumette, circling the dusty corners of the ballroom, preens to herself and knows how pretty she is. Soft, elegant, the most beautiful of any girl in the room—how jealous they must all be of her! She cannot wait to grab Lumiere and run upstairs and be showered with a thousand careless kisses. She dances a feather against her lips and laughs at the dark night.

The feather blows away. The doors have been slammed open by a hag, sending a footman sprawling; the hag looks a witch, so disgusting is her disarray. Hideous, thinks Plumette, tucking one arm into Lumiere’s.

“We should welcome her!” Lumiere starts to say, but then he sees the prince and retreats back to his shadows.

Adam has noticed the hag. (it would be hard not to, with all the candles gone out and the chilly north wind blowing through the halls.) He turns to her with a cold face, cold as the wind, and fury lights in his eyes. A long time ago, he might have offered her shelter—though it was never his to give, when he was eight and open and liked people and hags equally—but now his father’s pride in him is strong, like silver, and it drowns out his heart with a bright, cold shine. In his head are women’s flat praises and heavy, cloying scent, and a thin hatred for anyone who makes his heart beat fast.

His heart is beating fast, now. “What do you want?! How dare you come through these gates? Who let you in?!”

Her face ducks beneath the hood; she is quiet as she proffers a rose. One of his roses! His roses. Expensive roses, the pride of his kingdom. He never cared much for the flowers themselves, but they are his, to have and to hate. They are not there for ugly old women, drenched by a summer storm.

“For a night’s shelter,” whispers the hag. “A rose may only buy one night—or many.”

“They buy you nothing,” snarls Adam. “Can you not see yourself? Why, look at us!” He gestures, laughing, to the pretty things around him. Behind him, his ladies titter. “We shine like diamonds, gold. You—”

“Fool’s gold,” whispers the woman. “Do not be deceived by appearances—”

“Do not address your betters so!”

“—for beauty...is found within.”

He throws the rose onto the floor in disgust. “Ugly hag! Get her out, at once. Beastly hag!”

His heart is beating fast. But as the woman rises from the robe, shining like gold and as beautiful as a dying star, his heart beats faster.

He is stunned by her transformation. He does not feel compassion, still: but fear, yes, he feels fear. Suddenly, he is not her better. Suddenly....he is very much worse.

He does not catch her words, just then; he only remembers the form of the spell afterward, as he sits in darkness in the West Wing. But now—with the screams of his guests ringing harsh in his ears as they flee from him—he only sees the way the witch looks: just, and angry, and all her eyes on him.

He does not hear the spell. But the crack of his bones: yes, that he hears. And feels. And suddenly he can’t see, as the pain catches in front of his eyes like hard and heavy silver.

There is no blood. But there is a snap, and a crack, and Adam can’t think for pain as his muscles swell and his eyes contract and his fingers curl against his own force. His skin is rough, then crackling, and with a cry he feels his jawbone shift and grow and his own teeth tear his lips. He is big, now, too big—a hulking mass—silk rip against his claws, and all he is aware of, now, is skin and fur and horns and teeth. He knows, without seeing, what he is. He can see and hear and feel  the way he looks: a monster who has eaten the prince. Plumette is yelling—out of fright, probably. And Adam roars in pain—and tries to cry—and roars again. Help! he tries to cry, and all that comes back is the screams of the women as they run: beast! beast!

Hidden in the shadows, Cogsworth’s hand clutches Plumette. Chapeau slips further back. The servants draw back into the shadows; they do not run from the prince, but they make no move to help him. He is a monster! A tragedy! Save your own skin, quick—

She is looking at them, next. Lumiere, his fingers nearly to Plumette’s but not quite there, lets out a heavy, hot breath and doesn’t reach her. The witch is whispering enchantment, and each servant catches different words: forget and alone and useless. She does not tell them it is their fault—for that she looks to Adam—but she condemns them for standing by, for staying silent.

“You stay silent now. Your hands are empty at your sides. Not one of you moved to help a hag—and none would move to help a monster. As you wish it, so it is. Stay here, with nothing to do as nothing has been done, until he learns to love. I see each one. Stay still your hearts. I say it so.”

The curse hits fast, painfully fast. There isn’t time to run.

Lumiere is in the front; he can’t turn fast enough. The golden glow hits him first, sends him nearly sprawling, but his legs can’t quite catch up beneath him—they can’t catch at all—they bond and rock and he hears Plumette screaming, and he would scream too but he is burning up, his heart itself is burning bright. The others are screaming. His heart is snapping and burning and going still, still, still—

Plumette tied her stays tight, tonight, to make her waist the smallest at the ball. But the stays tighten by themselves, now; they have come so tight her waist cannot be there. Her legs dissolve, turn soft and useless beneath her with unbearable pain, and her lungs (even as she breathes, even as she yells) grow solid in her, grow close against the other, and her skin is cold and gritty like cheap porcelain, and she can feel her face shifting and the pain is delicate and real and tight as a smile.

Cadenza seems to rip straight open. But where his blood should be, there are only strings; and he cries as his jaw tears—he can hear his wife screaming beside him—and the pain where his teeth was is so intense that for a moment he cannot hear any music at all: just a horrible, rushing silence as his jaw shudders and his legs swell out and his bones creak and crack like old, old wood. Garderobe is cracking open, her dress tearing into long, colorful shreds as her eyes become heavy and clouded. Mrs. Potts’ face is flattening, as she shrinks down to a stand. Chapeau’s muscles are clutching at nothing; he tries to ease them, but they crack and still, and he is left itching with the need to relax one limb—an itch that cannot be satisfied, that he cannot ease for anything. They are taut as knotted wood.

Cogsworth feels a shift inside him. He feels his heart change places—he feels everything grow spiked and locked, and metal and wooden, and he would bend over and hold his knees except his back has gone stiff as a board. His heart—which gear was his heart?—creaks and slows and then he hears it: tic-tic. tic-tic. tic-tic. And he prays, as he tries to swallow and finds nothing there to swallow with, that the sound will stop.

Lumiere sees. Lumiere sees Plumette turn soft and horrible, Cogsworth distort into a walking gear. And he turns, ready to risk the Enchantress, if only his legs would move—and then his hands are burning, really burning, and then he is screaming because his round face is being cast into gold, hot molten metal choking at his throat and lips. There is even a shine of gold crossing his eyes—and he is terrified, as metal crosses his face and burns with heavy heat, that he will never see Plumette again.

Wood, ivory, porcelain: if anyone could look beyond their own pain, they would see bones turned into gold and faces growing still and strange. It lasts only for minutes, as Adam rears—at least ten feet tall—and flees the room, tearing a portrait as he goes. The Enchantress snuffs out, as quick as a falling petal. And each servant—crying, swearing, screaming—grows silent, one by one, as the enchantment grows so great and the night so dark.

The last thing Lumiere sees is a feather. She is alive, he thinks, and faints still standing up.

[batbobsession]

So, I caught the tail end of BatB2017 on TV and I gotta say, I noticed a lot of other stuff that I didn’t catch the last bajillion times, so here we go:

That rose that Belle brings back from her childhood home…is not just a nice token of her mom; it’s a baby rattle.  Dunno how I missed that.  

Also, thanks to my recent interest in a different musical, I’ve learned that Montmartre is the more artsy part of Paris; it only makes sense that Maurice lived there and supported his family with his art.

They took out Evermore. Boo.

Some villager brought their dog to the battle at the castle.  The good boy is on a leash and his tail is wagging. 

Gaston…like, I know how the irony here is that Gaston’s the beast despite being so good-looking, but the moviemakers actually used things other than dialogue to portray that. I mean…if you just looked at the way he moves during his fight with the Beast…it’s scary how much of it we just take for granted because he’s a soldier and he trains hard. But:

Tearing bits off the castle with ease and then using those bits as weapons 

The strength he possesses to be able to do that at all

Gaston literally kicks the Beast in the stomach and he flies back about three feet

Sliding down and LEAPING off the castle walls, just like the Beast does, maybe with more grace than the Beast, even.  He’s surprisingly sure and agile around a place he’s never been…

Shows absolutely no fear until Adam nearly drops him to his death.

YOU CAN SEE THE SNOW FALLING OFF AND EVAPORATING AS THE SUN WIPES AWAY THE CURSE OF THE CASTLE.  THEY DID NOT NEED TO ADD THAT CGI BUT THEY DID AND I’M GRATEFUL.

Just–rediscovering?–how flipping amazing?–they cast the staff?

Emma Thompson is totally a kind, stern British mother

And Ian McKellen is definitely a grumpy old clock

And Ewan McGregor and Gugu Mbatha-Raw are like–the best? Ever?

Audra McDonald is for real an opera singer so that already works.

“You smell so good.” I never understood why Mrs. Potts said that to Chip until it hit me. Tea. He smells like tea leaves. OF COURSE.

THE. FINALE. SCENE.  It still makes my heart swell, thank goodness.

Can I just say, everyone looks so much better in blue and white?

Seriously, Garderenza in blue is the best thing in the world (and their natural hair is much better than those wigs)

And Dan Stevens is in peak condition with that blue coat…

Did the rest of the movie just…not use real sunlight? Because the final scene is probably the only scene to have real sunlight. 

Cadenza winks at Garderobe. I mean.  My favorite ship and I can’t believe I didn’t catch that.

[funnygirltthatbelle]

Welcome to the First Annual Beauty and the Beast Holiday Gift Exchange!

What is this?

You will be assigned another member of this fandom to partner up with. Throughout the month of December, you can anon this person asking about their favorite characters, adaptation, ships, etc. At the end of the month, you will send them a “gift” on tumblr to celebrate the holiday season!

What kinds of “gifts” are we expected to send?

Fanfiction, art, fanvids, character/otp aesthetics, gif sets, playlists, etc. Anything you can imagine you can probably send!

Can I join?

Are you a member of the BatB fandom? Do you like sharing your work? Do you want to meet more people in this fandom? Then of course! 

Instructions

send me a message saying you are interested (not on anon)

make sure your ask box is open and you anon messages are turned on (if this will be a problem, just message me at your earliest convenience)

I will send back another blog

get to know them! try to message a few times a week and keep in contact

create a personalized gift for them

submit or send this gift on the assigned date

enjoy!

Dates

Today-Nov. 30 -Sign up

Dec. 1 - Sign-ups close, assignments given

Dec. 20-31 - Submit your gift via tumblr and reveal yourself to your partner!

Quick tips!

Reach out to me if you will be unable to complete your gift on time so I can arrange something or just with any confusion

Get to know your “giftee!” Don’t just make something because you like it. If you normally write adelle, but your partner is hardcore plumiere, step outside your comfort zone!

Don’t stress! Gifts can be as small or elaborate as you choose!

Hope you all will join us this holiday season! If we don’t reach minimum 10 sign ups, I will notify everyone that it will not be running this year!

[smallmeanssafe-archived]

BatB Characters by Team Starkid Songs

Belle: “The Coolest Girl” (AVPM), “What If” (Firebringer), “Life”, “Status Quo” (Starship), “Lost Without You” (Trail to Oregon) ‘Into the Night” (Firebringer), “A Thousand and One Nights”, “The Power in Me” (Twisted)

Adam: “Sami” (Little White Lie), “Even Though” (MAMD), “Dark, Sad Lonely Night” (HMB), “A Thousand and One Nights” (Twisted) 

Maurice: “Not Alone” (AVPM), “The Power in Me”, “Sands of Time”, “If I Believed” (Twisted), “Paint Me” (Firebringer) “When the World’s at Stake” + rep (Trail to Oregon)

Gaston: “The Night Belongs to Snarl” (Firebringer), “No One Remembers Achmed” (Twisted), “Kick It Up a Notch” reprise (Starship),  “Your Wagon is On Fire”, “Caulk Your Wagon” (Trail to Oregon)

LeFou: “Its Over Now” (Little White Lie), “Missing You” (AVPM)

Lumiere/Plumette: “Beauty”, “The Way I Do” (Starship), “Sidekick” (AVPSY), “Listen to Your Heart” (MAMD)

Cogsworth: “Voldermort is Going Down” (AVPM)

Mrs. Potts: “When the World’s at Stake” (Trail to Oregon), “Not Alone” (AVPM)

Chip: “Pigfarts” (AVPM) 

Garderobe/Cadenza: “Sidekick” (AVPSY), “Just a Taste” (Firebringer)

Chapeau/Cuisiner: “Let the Games Begin”, “These Days of Summer” (AVPS)

Bimbettes: “Boy Toy” (Little White Lie)

Pere Robert: “The Golden Rule” (Twisted)

Agathe: “Chorn” (Firebringer)

[im-too-obssesed]

Night

The curse is broken, and the lights in the castle shine with the brightness of the sun, as the moon hangs with diamonds in the sky, watching over lives reanimated, reunited, and remembered. 

 The prince and his princess have stolen away to the library, grateful for the quiet, as Lumiere and Plumette have run off to enjoy the pleasures of each other; kisses and teasing touches the order of the night (in the midst of prying eyes); Fire and feathers are one once more. 

 Outside, Mrs. Potts and Chip sit on the steps of the castle with their newly recovered father and husband, gazing at the stars, marveling at the sky's newfound absence of winter clouds. The familiar smell of some kind of tea, black, Jean thinks, fills his senses as he burys his face into his beloveds hair, and holds Chip closer to him than before. As far as he knew, he'd never let go. 

 And in the ballroom, the lights are everburning, as Cogsworth silently plots to depart from the arms of his wife and into his study for a glass of whiskey with Chapeau, who waits at the exit. The aid had left his sisters somwhere between the foyer and the kitchen, and would soon depart for his own chambers, throwing away his comrades delusion of a possible success, well aware that there is no chance of the majordomo escaping. 

None. 

 And in the gardens, the Madame and the Maestro walk, dressed for the next dawn. Sleep eludes them as they walk through the bushes of flowers, and leaves from the willow trees find home in the niches of the large wigs that pass beneath them. 

 And in the night, in those gardens, the Madame begins to sing. She sings a song of birds in the arbor, the sky's daytime star; of love. And as she sings, her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, remeniscent of a life regained. Her mind is at peace for now, knowing nothing but love. 

 Alongside her, the Maestro, Il suo sole, luna e stelle, quietly hums along, his eyes lost on his beloveds face, quietly remembering a time before. A time before Enchantresses and curses and magic; When jewels were in abundance and the world was at their feet, when it was just the two of them performing, living, with not a care in the world. A time when his lovers voice had never faded away, and neither had their lives. 

 He remembered her last words, where she'd accepted her fate. He remembered her last sigh as she faded away into nothing but an object, and left him behind. 

Goodbye, my love.

 And he remembered that as she left him, he hurt so much, 

He forgot he was fading away too.

And as the Maestro remembers, the Madame sings. 

 Soon enough, the song comes to an end, leaving the sounds of the night surrounding the castle to their own devices. The moon casts shadows upon the lovers figures as they come upon the lake, hearts no longer star crossed, but one; with fingers intertwined, each in sheer awe of the other, with worries slowly left behind, and hearts full of dreams and thoughts full of love. 

But the Maestro cannot bear the silence. 

Again mio amore, he says. 

She smiles and begins again, a new song on her lips. 

 Time soon passes and eyes close as sleep no longer becomes fleeting, and the moon falls with diamonds in the sky once more. Memories of a curse come into the minds eye of many, but as the sky's daytime star slowly rises, they fade into a hopeful vision of the future. 

 And when the Madame and the Maestro wake, their hands are still clasped together, their faces inches apart, and their love everlasting. Frou Frou has found them now, amongst the lake and the trees, and so have the leaves of the willows. 

And the Maestro longs for his Madame's voice, still. 

Again mi amore, he says. 

A smile. 

A song.  

A kiss. 

And life begins again.

[fadedelegance]

I celebrated my birthday a day ahead of time lol. YAY!!! #TheOneThingIWantedForMyBirthday