#lumette

[unqualified-therapist]

I never posted this, but I drew this on Valentine’s Day. I love me some lesbians

[bubblestarz]

dw dw lumine x Lynette fans I made some food for us since we’re starving

[taeaart]

👑 super crown luma 🌟

[rhodochrosite-love]

Lumette full body!

[lumiereswig]

what are your favorite plumette/lumiere moments if you haven't done this already?

Ones in the movie, or ones I made up in my own head that are basically canon to me now?

In the movie:

Plumette’s hand reaching up from a pile of feathers and saving all of modern cinema. Give her the best actress award

literally every second that happens after that. Lumiere taking her hand—so tenderly—helping her up, his hand reaching out to steady her—

she’s looking at him RIGHT AWAY. like she came alive just now and he’s immediately the thing she looks at

how fucking SLOW it is as they look at each other, and his fucking hand reaching out for her face

then the simultaneous swandive into kissing

it’s so tender. it’s so loving. it is everything

then lUMIERE IS SMOKING AND I’M LAUGHING THROUGH MY TEARS

lumiere’s fucking face as plumette pats down the fucking wig

ok enough of that for now, we all know that’s the best part of the movie by far, moving on

the bit earlier where belle is dealing with high key stress adapting to her new prison and lumiere and plumette are trying to be good hosts but get totally fucking captivated by each other on belle’s bed and start flirting in public

the way plumette can’t quite manage the spotlight during “be our guest” and lumiere just fucking ADAPTS to it like heaven forbid he ask someone other than his precious to take over, no, this is ok, he’ll just follow the spotlight instead of the other way around

the way lumiere clearly choreographed “be our guest” so plumette could have a big moment where she emerges from peacock feathers like a gorgeous showgirl. 

the way they’re having a REALLY FUCKING GOOD TIME during the battle, like over here Mrs. Potts is in agony at hurting her husband and giving random villagers dating advice, MEANWHILE the definitely totally sane featherduster+firebrand are laughing like fucking maniacal idiots and setting the floor on fire.

like they must not have given a shit about anybody in the village because they had each other. they have 0 mercy during that battle sequence

the part in ‘days in the sun’ where they’re dancing because WHY TEH FUCK NOT

everytime lumiere’s in a shot and you just see plumette flying by in the background. they’re so in orbit around each other all the time

ok but have i already mentioned the kiss at the end because it’s bomb

wait yes i did i spent 20 minutes talking about it already. dammit

ok let’s finish off: THE FINAL DANCE where they’re doing that fun waltz in the corner and they’re just looking at each otehr and UGH how can you focus on anything else when she’s all in white and he’s all in gold and they look like the fucking sky descended to earth

[saberhilt-blog]

Be our guest.

[coolshadowses]

i’ve got this headcanon about Lumiere and Plumette: at their weddings, instead of rings, they exchanged a candle and a feather. Sign that they already been together in good and bad times and they’ll keep being together

[lumiereswig]

I loved the story where Plumette is pregnant, could we have a follow up story where Lumiere sees the baby for the first time? Please?

oh my god, what a good prompt

he is so afraid he is going to lose her. his hands hurt from wringing them, from pinching out every finger and running thumbs against his palms as he listens to her scream. I thought children came into the world tenderly, tenderly, he thinks, not bathed in blood and wet and screaming and Plumette

Another scream from her. Cogsworth has to put a hand on his arm to keep Lumiere from throwing himself into the room. Mrs. Potts and Belle laid out strict orders: no coming in, no pacing just inside the door, you’ll worry her by being worried, she knows you’re just outside but she doesn’t need you now.

I need her, he tells Cogsworth. I need her safe.

A maid runs by again—the last of many in just this hour—grabbing herbs, cloths, rags, Lumiere can’t keep a hold of how many things they need to yank his wife open and pull out a screaming ball of life. I knew being human was messy, he tells Cogsworth. I did not know it could make me so afraid.

Adam comes by and stands, useless, hoping his very presence can help calm his friend down. Lumiere’s hair is on end from waiting, from hoping—oh, god, mon dieu, mon ange, it is so silent now, they have killed Plumette, his dearest has gone silent at last.

A tiny, tiny cry. Oh, mon dieu, he calls out, unaware he looks mad, the last cry of her sweet, sweet life—Plumette, cherie, cherie

Adam is holding his arm, smiling, why are they smiling, Cogsworth is beaming and relaxed his grip. What is there to smile at, when Plumette is dead and life is dead and the palace has gone silent too.

“She’s alive,” Adam whispers. “Lumiere, she’s alive.”

Sacre bleau. Of all the suns—

Mrs. Potts and Belle can’t hold the door shut; he flies through it so fast and doesn’t hear Adam’s “ouch” as the prince follows and touches the molten handle of the door. Lumiere is at her bed in a moment, diving through the feathers that ripped through the mattresses and searching her out amid the candlelight. When did it get so dark? When did they bring out the candles? Lumiere has spent so long thinking of Plumette he did not realize the sun had set. He hides his hands—he always expects them to be on fire, now, he doesn’t dare touch or burn her—and stares into her sweet, sweet face, streaked with sweat but so alive. Oh, ma cherie, she is so alive, he whispers, talking to nothing. 

“Yes,” says Plumette, whispering back, “she is so alive. Look, mon amour,” and holds out something for his still-red hands. 

Lumiere has known what it is like for all time to stop and your heart to stop beating, but he never knew it could be exquisite. Last time, it was like a dulling of death, this time—so much life—

“I cannot speak,” he whispers, “She is—she is magnifique. She is light.”

“She does seem to glow,” and Plumette’s laugh is low and steady and exhausted and everything he ever wanted. “Let’s hope she has your fiery spirit.”

Her dusty skin—so small, so soft, so tender. Lumiere has seen magic but never a wonder such as this. Such a tiny thing, smaller than he has ever been, glowing from some secret joy.

“I heard the first cry of her life,” he whispers. “I heard her cry.”

“She is sweet, so sweet, I love her so,” says Plumette, and smiles against her feather pillows, her curls damp against her head.

The child curls her fingers around Lumiere’s hands, soothing the bruises he left. He touches her hands with his, his fingers dancing on her own.

“I think I’ve come alive for the third time of my life,” he whispers, and Plumette smiles. He curls himself in the bed beside her, and she leans against his arms, her own hands touching first him, then the child, a little laughter waltzing between them as the baby sneezes and snores. Plumette fall asleep on his shoulder; Lumiere sleeps too, his lips still pressed to her forehead, his arms still holding the child.

Mrs. Potts shuts the door and damps the candles. “They have a lifetime of light ahead of them,” she says. “Let’s give them a little dark for now.”