#threads ;; cogsworth

[mlndless]

;; closed starter for @whydcntyoustay !

" is the coffee not to your liking? another pinch of sugar might help if it's too bitter." this was cogsworth's favorite place to have a peaceful cup of coffee. it was small but very charming and always had a pleasant smell in the air.

[mlndless]

Cogsworth noticed her shift in demeanor but decided he should not push it. “Well, what exactly goes into training? I mean, I focus mostly on the kitchen staff since I know nothing about fighting. You certainly didn’t inherit that interest from me,” he joked.

sylvie frowns, thinking about her dad's questions. "no, not really. i haven't had a lot of time to do anything besides train."

[intothewestwing]

If I Can't Love Her - Ch 15

"Lift your chin up, dear! I need exact measurements if I am going to make you the best-dressed girl in France!"

Madame Delile was quite the character. She almost gave Belle a fright when they'd first met, as she didn't expect a woman to animate from a pile of unseemly scraps of fabric and ribbons.

Since they'd met, Madame had recalled her time as the palace's seamstress, designing only the finest clothes for the highest paying employers across the globe. And to her misfortune, she'd been staying exclusively with the royal family when the curse was set. The tattered cloaks and sparse shirtings The Beast wore were once said to be of the finest tailored garments across kingdoms, all part of an exclusive collection of course.

Belle had practically memorized Madame's stories of her travels, and while she remained kind, she found much more interest in the Queen's diary. Especially after she'd heard the repeat of Madame's stories several times in one day.

The village girl stood in the center of her suite, holding the diary in front of her at such an awkward angle, due to the flurry of ribbons and textiles that flew around her as Madame gathered her measurements.

"Now some sashing here...Oh! And the beaded trim would go here! Oh gold is such your color... And a matching rouge for those cheeks! C'est parfait!"

Once Madame was finished, she collected her ribbons back into her singular form, and Belle noticed a small glint in her buttoned eyes. It must have been a long time since Madame had anyone to design for...

"So? What do we think? I know you requested, uh..." Madame raised a ribboned brow. "'Plaine et ennuyeuse'.... But could I sway you on some beads? A bow? Lace maybe?"

Her voice was so filled with hope...Belle couldn't say no. After all, it had been a long time since she'd had anything nicer to wear. Looking in the mirror, she imagined herself in a gown of silk, with her hair tied and curled. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try something new.

With a smile, she nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps you're right, Madame. Change is good."

"C'est magnifique!" Madame shook her 'hands' in excitement and pulled the rope along the wall, summoning another servant. "I will have everything ordered for the next shipment!"

Belle's brow furrowed as she slipped on her day dress, a temporary once Madame had lent her. "Shipment?"

"Oui! You didn't think we were cut off from the world completely, did you?"

The young woman had never thought about where their supplies must come from, but what Madame was saying made sense.

"We have shipments delivered once a month. We put in our requests for soaps, spices, meats, books, other necessary things. And by one way or another," Madame shrugged with her 'hands'. "...it appears!"

"Which means that you, my dear friend, will be dressed in only the finest threads from around the globe, just like a proper princesse!"

Belle began to argue, but was interrupted by a male voice.

"That is only if your request is approved by...whoever approves it!"

The head of household, Cogsworth, appeared in the doorway, seemingly uptight and annoyed as ever. This seemed to be his constant state, Belle had remarked. Even through his gears and metal embellishments, his frowning expression was one she saw more often than not.

"Monsieur Cogsworth! You're just in time. I shall draft a list for you to add. I shall require silks, satins, brocades..."

Madame continued with her verbal list, while Cogsworth ushered Belle toward him.

"Lunch is being served in the main dining room, if you're feeling in need of an escape." He motioned toward Madame Delile, who was circling the suite and continuing her rant.

Belle stifled a laugh and quickly grabbed the Queen's diary before heading to the dining room for lunch, giving silent condolences to the head of the royal staff.

---------------------

The Beast had already begun eating when Belle arrived. He and Lumiere had been practicing the arts of 'suave gentility' and 'table manners', and before she had entered, he was confident in his ability to woo her. But once Lumiere opened the doors for her, all of that confidence drained straight into his gut, and he began tasting the finger foods out of fear.

Belle didn't quite know how to feel towards The Beast. On one hand, he seemed genuine and honest, but on the other, his temper was a monster of its own, that she felt she was in constant battle with. She could only hope that The Beast would be on her side today.

She found her place, at the opposite end of the table from The Beast, and surveyed the array of appetizers set out for them, before returning to her chosen read.

Lumiere had suggested that The Beast choose something safe to start with. A simple soup with sides of bread to dip, to which he'd already scarfed down.

From behind Belle's chair, Lumiere motioned toward Belle, urging his master to talk to her.

Beast cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh... Good afternoon."

The awkward energy between them practically hurt.

Belle, without looking up, replied. "Good afternoon." She had mastered the art of reading and socializing, as she'd learned it appeared rude to just plain ignore those speaking to her, though she typically preferred to be left alone when reading.

Beast cluelessly looked back up at Lumiere, who was practically snapping himself in two in trying to direct his master.

A scattering of servants brought a few trays out to Belle and set them in front of her. She'd be given her choice of what to eat, as usual, though she usually picked a bit from everything.

He waited for more trays to be brought to him as well, but Beast was surprised to learn that Lumiere had told them to leave him with his soup. They hadn't had time to go over all of the necessary table manner rules, and the footman wasn't about to risk their lives over a leg of meat.

Beast, incredibly awkwardly, attempted to pick up the soup spoon, just like Lumiere had showed him. This would be a sorry attempt, as his sharp claws caused the metal to slip and fall out of his paw and back onto the table.

Accepting defeat, Lumiere left the room.

He tried again, only to drop it in his soup bowl that caused a horrid clattering sound.

Belle looked up from her book at the sound.

"Are you alright?" She asked, worriedly.

Beast rested his arm on the table and leaned back in his chair, nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just completely embarrassed himself.

"Oh, yes of course. You know how it goes... Soup."

If Lumiere had witnessed this exchange, he'd have lit himself on fire.

"Right..." Belle smiled and nodded, before hiding her face behind her book.

Beast's face flushed pink and he hid his face in his paws. This lunchtime interaction was not going as planned.

He peered through his fingers to see if she'd looked up, and that's when he noticed what she was reading. He couldn't quite place it, but it was familiar to him.

"What are you reading?"

This question was definitely the correct one.

Belle sat up and shifted her seating position so it was more comfortable.

"It's a diary I found. This woman, she is incredible. It's her firsthand accounts of adventures, voyages, across this side of the world. She used to travel a lot. Before she married, anyway."

Beast leaned closer to the table as she described the diary, still trying to figure out why it was so familial to him.

Belle took a sip of her wine before continuing.

"How awful would it be? To be in an arranged marriage, that is."

Beast shifted uncomfortably.

"I can't imagine my father promising me to the highest bidder. How demeaning and inhumane."

"That's... That's not always the case!"

Belle tilted her head to finally make eye contact with the distant figure at the end of the table.

"Oh? Is that so?" Her voice was challenging as she begged for the man in the room's opinion on what it was like to be a woman in such a society.

This is when he knew he'd made a mistake.

"I just meant, it's not always like that."

"You sound as though you speak from experience."

"No, no! I..." Beast thought it best to change the subject, before he revealed more than he already had. "Whose diary is that anyway? Where did you get it?"

Belle closed the journal and crossed her arms.

"I found it. From what I've read, it seemed to belong to a queen who'd lived here." She struggled to remember the name. "I believe a Queen-"

"Stop. I need it."

Belle shook her head. "After I'm done, you can read it."

"No, I need it back. Now."

Beast felt the warmth from his cheeks that was once embarrassment rise to anger as he realized she was grasping his late mother's diary. A diary he'd thought had been lost to time.

Belle, however, was not backing down.

"No! I said you can have it when I'm done!"

The servants snuck into the dining room once they began to hear shouting, ready to clean up before things got messy. But by the time they entered, Beast had flung his soup bowl across the room at the wall.

Lumiere approached his master to try and diffuse the situation.

"Sire, why don't you have another drink and we can talk about-"

Beast grabbed Lumiere by his collar, threatening to crush his waxy throat behind it. He felt a wild, animalistic rage behind his actions, and a growl behind his words. He was losing control again.

"Did you give it to her? I told you she wasn't allowed in the archives!"

"Master...Please..." The servant begged. Not so long ago, this was a common occurrence, but he truly hadn't missed being under The Beast's claws.

Belle suddenly grabbed his forearm and attempted to pull the grip loose from Lumiere as The Beast continued to snarl at his prey.

"I'm... the one... who found it!" She continued pulling on his arm, even at his fur until he finally let his servant go.

"He had nothing to do with it! It was hidden in the East Wing." Out of breath, but still fearlessly, she stood a mere inches from The Beast with her hands in the air, as if she were taming a wild animal.

"If you're going to be angry at anyone, be angry with me. Just...don't hurt them."

The Beast's breath began to slow as he calmed down. He watched as Mrs. Potts aided Lumiere and walked him back into the kitchens, while other staff whisked away the broken porcelain of the shattered dishes. His vision wasn't red and hot anymore, and his eyes softened as he met Belle's fearful gaze.

Once again, he'd hurt her. Not physically, but this action, this behavior, was still a wound.

He looked down at his claws and made certain he wasn't gripping onto her.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." He said breathlessly, ever ashamed for his actions once again.

This apology was the last thing Belle expected, and was almost shocked to hear it.

"I... I don't know what came over me." Beast tried to think through his actions, why he got so angry, why that situation was angering in the first place... But it was all blank. He shook his head, trying to remember, but was brought back to reality by Belle slipping her hand into his paw.

"No!" He immediately rejected her touch and pulled his claws away from Belle, afraid to touch her. He kept them close to his chest and backed up from her.

Belle shook her head, confused. Was he... afraid of her? It seemed as much. She didn't quite know what to say or how to diffuse this, as a man had never feared her touch before.

A man.

She caught herself thinking of The Beast as such, and recalled how quickly he could change from monster to a man. He could be a gentleman, the kind that enjoyed her company and left flowers at her door. And other times, well, she'd seen his unforgiving wrath before.

But now... A simple apology, correcting his harmful behaviors... He was changing before her, and her before him, though neither of them wholly recognized it.

"Beast..."

"I-I'll be having dinner in my suite tonight." He said quickly, to no one in particular, before exiting the dining room and retreating to The West Wing for the night.

With a frustrating silence and more unanswered questions, Belle left the diary on the dining room table, hoping it would magically return to its rightful place in the archives.

Its secrets, she thought, would be better left as secrets.

[firawren]

"Transformation" A Beauty and the Beast fanfic

Chapter 3, “Emerging,” rated T, now posted

Chapters: 3/17 now posted Fandom: Beauty and the Beast (Disney Animated Movies) Rating: Explicit

Romantic relationships: Belle/Beast, Gaston/Lumiere Platonic relationships: Gaston & Belle, Gaston & Beast

Key additional tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Love, Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Monster Fucking, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Redemption, Family, Friendship, see full list of tags on AO3

Excerpt from chapter 3:

“Beast, I love you.”

Her tender words collided into him with the sudden force of a bolt of lightning, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the unexpected jolt for a moment.

But already dazzling light swirled around them, around each of the servants, streaking across every surface of the castle. When it cleared, everything had been transformed: a teapot into a woman, a clock into a man, dark gargoyles into pink cherubs, black stone and sharp iron into white marble and gilded gold flowers.

Everything, except, the Beast.

He looked down at his furry paws. Unchanged.

But that was forgotten as soon as he lifted his head to look at Belle. She was frozen to the spot where she stood, eyes and mouth open in shock.

“What, what just happened?”

He stepped toward her and gathered her in his arms. “I’ll explain it all, but, Belle, you love me.” He said it not like a question, but like a fact that he had to repeat out loud to try to make it make sense.

She nodded, a hint of a shy smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, Beast, I love you, and I want to stay here with you.”

Joyful warmth filled his body. “I love you, too, Belle.” He felt a sudden bitter pang of disappointment that he didn’t have a normal mouth to kiss her with at this moment, but it was quickly swept away by the pleasure of seeing the love for him shining in her beautiful eyes.

She lifted her hands to his face, slowly threading her fingers into the fur at his cheeks, then gently pulled his face down to hers and rubbed her nose against his. “So I can stay?” she murmured.

“Stay.” He slid one paw up her back to cradle her head. Oh he never wanted to let her out of his arms!

But a commotion out in the hallway made them break away from each other right before it burst into the room in the form of a slender man with a long nose and a stout man wearing a formal wig.

“Master, you did it! The spell—” Lumière froze and stared, and every muscle in Beast’s body went tense.

“Why are you…unchanged?” Cogsworth asked, staring at him too.

Belle gripped Beast’s arm, looking back and forth between the two men. “Who are you?”

Continue reading chapter 3 “Emerging” of “Transformation” on AO3

Summary:

Belle said she loved him. Everything transformed to how it used to be.

Except the Beast.

Forced into a new deal with the Enchantress, Beast will remain in this form forever. Belle doesn’t mind; she’s happy with him no matter what he looks like. Beast tries to just be happy, too, and for a while, everything is wonderful. Beast doesn’t know how he got so lucky, and Belle finally feels at home. But when the trauma of his past resurfaces, the future they’re trying to build together comes tumbling down.

Gaston’s ideal future isn’t going to plan either. Instead of getting married to Belle, it looks like he’s becoming friends with her, while developing feelings for someone else he’d never expected. This wouldn’t be so bad, except that the closer he gets to both of them, the more he learns to question his values and feel guilty for his past. And when that past finally comes to light, he stands to lose everything he’s gained.

This is a story about how sometimes the things we want to transform can’t be changed, and sometimes the things we think are hopeless can transform through love.

[paulpanics]

continued from here

It was a risk to ask Claude such a question, but Paul couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was the liquid confidence that pushed it, or maybe it was his conversations with Meg and Blaise. Regardless, they didn’t want to play guessing games with Claude forever. They wanted to know where he stood. “Hey, neither of us had anything bad to say,” Paul chuckled, noticing Claude’s discomfort at the thought. “If Meg’s got a man, I had to meet him, y’know? Just happened to be your best friend too..” They were still getting used to that, how both their worlds seemed to collide the way they did. 

Paul nodded in agreement — they were both very guarded, but Paul had good reason. Being a demon and working for Harold surely would make anyone that way. They weren’t entirely sure Claude’s reasons, but he was sure there had to be one deep down. Claude’s next question made Paul immediately take a swig from his drink, needing it to tell him what Blaise had asked. He wasn’t sure he was prepared, himself. “He uh ...” they chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of their neck with their free hand, “He asked if you were in love with me or something. I didn’t — didn’t know what to say, obviously. It’s a touchy subject, I think ...” He took another swig to help with the tension, clearing his throat. “But uh ... yeah. Blaise is a ... a pretty straightforward guy, huh? He really wanted to get straight to the point ...” @claudecogsworth​

[mlndless]

cogsworth lightened under her praise, he took great pride in his work and it was a rare occasion that it was recognized outside of the florian family. even with his temper, adam and his family had always been kind to cogsworth and staff.

" they are downright childish if you ask me. " he brushed his bangs out of his face in a huff. the old clock felt offended on ben's half. as if the young king didn't already have more than enough on his plate. too much stress on a young man's shoulders would eventually cripple him.

" a note is one thing but if they take the time to do something so egregious, the royal guards will surely catch them. " he could not wait for that day to come. " everyone in the castle is doing their best to stay on high alert. hopefully something will come up soon. "

❄️⋆｡˚₊ ──── ELSA'S features softened. " cogsworth, " she repeated his name like an snowflake — unique yet delicate.

" it's a pleasure to meet you properly. i've heard nothing but exemplary things about florian castle's keeper. " as her smile was small but real. transforming her features from its natural melancholy into something airy. only it didn't last long as her features shifted as cogsworth sigh & body-language alone described the weight of ones problems etched in silent weight they carry on there shoulders. that didn't need words. " these mock messages, " she spoke carefully " — do feel deliberate & orchestrated. " as she paused for an moment as she thought how cogsworth felt about his own instincts. " & after something like this? there is no doubt that there will be another mock message of some sort. hopefully they won't progress to vandalism. " as storms are one thing but this ' red-tide ' effects more than just mermaids but also those from the docks. no doubt adding fuel to the flames.

" the only question is when. " when in the kind of way that would give the one doing all this an cowardly opening. " it must be hard to stay vigilant with so much happening at once. "

[fatesentangled]

tags  ;;  belle  dumont  !

🎔  001.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  thread  } 🎔  001.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  answered  } 🎔  001.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  starter  } 🎔  001.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  starter  call  } 🎔  002.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  musing  } 🎔  002.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  aesthetic  } 🎔  002.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  desire  } 🎔  002.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  visage  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  maurice  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  adam  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  gaston  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  lumiere  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  cogsworth  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  mrs.  potts  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  chip  }

[fatesentangled-a]

ic  tags  for  belle  dumont  !!

🎔  001.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  thread  } 🎔  001.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  answered  } 🎔  001.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  starter  } 🎔  001.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  starter  call  } 🎔  002.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  musing  } 🎔  002.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  aesthetic  } 🎔  002.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  desire  } 🎔  002.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  visage  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  maurice  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  adam  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  gaston  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  lumiere  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  cogsworth  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  mrs.  potts  } 🎔  003.  ↳  {  belle  dumont  ;  relation  »  chip  }

[folkloars]

tags ; belle.

[mlndless]

;; closed starter for @gntlesurvived !

cogsworth was watching an old friend perform a set at the siren's lounge. he rarely visited the establishment due to the busy nature of his work, but it was a nice place to spend his rare day off. the music was more than lovely and they had a nice selection of drinks to pick from. " excuse me, " he called out to a passing waitress. " i'm having trouble picking out an appetizer. would you recommend something ? i promise i'm not terribly picky, perhaps just indecisive, " he tried to joke.

[alexisdrawstrash]

More Sweet Than Bitter

read on AO3!

Thank you @lumiereswig for tagging me in this challenge!

A combination of prompts 1 and 2 of the BATB 12 Days of Christmas fanfiction challenge. Snowfall and cinnamon. Naturally, fluff ensues.

————

It wasn’t all that uncommon for Cogsworth to be woken up with kisses peppered across his freckled face, even if he was due to be up first. The man’s eyes fluttered open with the first break of dark skies, deep orange seeping through the windows and tinting the entire bedroom in warm hues. It was one of those mornings where the kisses fell behind schedule. But as soon as the man so much as tilted his head towards the opposite direction, it’s as if time stopped, and the harsh, frigid winter air escaped his aching chest all at once.

Lumière’s back arched beautifully, soft hazelnut blonde threads splayed against cooling gold bedsheets and the feathered clouds of silk tucked beneath his hip. His chin was nested right above the hollow space of his collarbone, and his eyelashes fluttered at even the slightest dimming of the rising sun. His lips were chapped from the morning wind and his breathing grew increasingly more shallow. A loose, uncurled fringe of hair draped over his face.

Henry Cogsworth had never bared witness to something more beautiful.

He thinks of no other alternative but to lean over and run his fingers across his bangs, pulling it away to kiss his forehead. Lumière lets out a soft inhale, and a slight twist of an ankle producing a painless crack ensued as the man’s lips curled upward. His eyes didn’t open just then, however. He was still caught between deep sleep and the red replacing a docile night’s darkness behind his eyelids. He ignores Cogsworth shifting the sheets and leaving the warmth of their bed, bringing him to pull up the sheets over himself, groaning at the loss.

An hour felt more like a moment as Lumière’s hit by the insisting sun itching away at him to finally abandon his haven of sleep, dawn creeping into a muted grey sky. He lifts his body upward, hair a mess and takes a moment to process being awake. And not long after, processing coming awake to floating snowflakes, descending onto the balcony edges and windowsills with such elegance only possessed by frosted rain, and occasionally tiny artworks of nature as fleeting as snowfall itself. Lumière can’t bring himself to leave at that moment. He looked younger, gaze fixated on the tiny snowflakes in a way a child would perch over the arms of a cushioned seat and stare at the snow for minutes on end before begging his mother to let him frolic in it.

His gaze is broken with the click of a doorknob, followed by Cogsworth greeting him with a metal tray. Lumière gave him a tired smile, tracing his left shoulder with his fingers and relaxing his posture. They exchange loving eyes before the man shifts his gaze down at the porcelain mug set over delicate lace over its tray. Inside it was a brew of heated milk and chocolate spiced with cinnamon powder and extract of a fresh vanilla bean. Lumière placed a pillow against the wooden bed frame and leaned back onto it, poised and admittedly curious.

“What’s this?”

“A fitting change to your usual breakfast,” Cogsworth teases. His usual was a cup of black tea, curtesy of Mrs. Potts, and not much else. The butler was unreservedly convinced that man functioned in the mornings on giddy optimism and sheer insolence. Alas, there were often moments where he did worry about Lumière’s health, and his recurrent neglect of food if otherwise not given to him resulting in him losing more unnecessary inches around his waist. Lucien Dupont, la lumière de la cour , a frail man no matter how lively he was, and Lord knows he was never one to deny himself of a little indulgence.

“Potts?” He asks.

“Me!” Cogsworth failed to mitigate the enthusiasm in his tone before he spoke, but he knew better than to waste time and brainpower taking it back. This moment would not be ruined by him and his refusal to be someone other than head of the household.

“I preferred not to wake you, given how the Master has allowed us a day off.”

“He has?” Lumière sounded surprised at this. The castle had changed so dramatically this past year, even he still struggled to adjust to it. Cogsworth nods, laying the tray on the nightstand in front of him. “Nevermind it,” he hums, “I must work anyhow. You take this day in stride, hm?”

Lumière chuckles at the emphasis on ‘you.’ “Are you actually Henry? I was half expecting you to drag me off to work and accuse me of laziness just now.”

“I made this drink and I can take it away,” Cogsworth warns half-seriously. “We weren’t yet lovers then—“

“Ah ah ah,” Lumière corrects, “we weren’t yet official, you mean.”

Cogsworth wraps his hands around the mug, glaring at Lumière, but he can’t help but soften his expression at the sudden fit of laughter that came over the smaller man. Lacing his fingers around the handle and stabilizing his grip with the palm of his other hand, he takes the mug and holds it up to his lips. A delicately fragrant aroma lingers and pairs agreeably with the sharp bitterness of the cocoa, sweetening it slightly. He nods in approval and places the mug back onto the tray, met with a huff and a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll be going.”

“Ah!” Lumière takes hold of the cuff of his sleeve, bringing him to a halt, and raises his head towards Cogsworth. A chaste kiss, an oddity for a man the likes of Lumière.

Bittersweet, and lovely.

[jenniferstolzer]

If you were in charge of being a costume design for Disney’s beauty and the beast revival on broadway how would you bring life to the characters (especially the enchanted objects) what ideas could you used?

What an interesting thought experiment! I first saw Beauty and the Beast as a child at the Muny in St. Louis and even back then I really adored the costuming of the enchanted objects. They were my favorite characters in the movie and Lumiere’s look especially really spoke to my own costuming/design aesthetic.  

In general I adore the philosophy going on here. These people are human in an in-between stage of becoming objects with the implication that it’s happening gradually (almost naturally) over the course of many years and taken over each person almost like a parasite. For example, each character still looks like they’re wearing the uniform of their station, but the curse has latched onto those garments and claimed them as their own. More than that, it’s eaten through to the flesh and stolen from each character at least one function of their physical bodies -- Lumiere has lost use of his hands, Mrs. Potts has lost one arm. Cogsworth can no longer bend at the waist, etc. With the exception of poor Chip who is now just a head (holy god) they are still able to live their lives in the palace largely as they had been but with the constant daily reminder of what the Curse is doing to them.  Let’s take Lumiere for example (and this is where I’ll delve into what I would do and how my personal aesthetic is tickled by these designs) 

I have a deep attraction to the inherent horror of the human body being consumed and transformed by something foreign (cough @threadcaster cough cough) So I would take on the Beauty and the Beast costuming in a more horror direction. First thing, I’d give the curse itself a bit of a motive. The Lumiere example:

Look at this man. Like how perfect is this look? He’s the Matre’d, he’s the evening’s entertainment, he’s the first face a guest would see at a palace gala and you can tell. He’s becoming a candelabra for that reason as well, he’s the host who focuses attention and draws people in. I love the gold accents on hsi coat and shoes have started to encroach on him... take more than what they’re owed, invade what makes him “him.” The hands and head candles are the obvious part but his buttons are claiming real-estate, the embroidered details on his coat are gaining ground in the war to subdue him. He probably didn’t even notice at first that the gold thread of his cuffs were bleeding, that his rings and charms had fused to his skin, that his wig was getting waxy... the curse is impeding him and changing him the same way age steals your functions a little bit at a time.

We come back from intermission and it’s progressed even further. The filigree ahs climbed all the way up his coat and bridged the gap from his shoes to his breeches. The cuffes have dripped and pooled onto his shoulder to show how much he’s kept his arms in the “candelabra” position, likely without even realizing it. It can now influence how he moves, how he behaves, how he works. They’re becoming one entity... trading bite for bite the flesh of the man for the metal of the object. Like that’s great visual storytelling! And this isn’t even the most dramatic second act transformation of this character. In the version I saw as a child, he was practically a Starlight Express character in act 2. If I remember correctly I think he even had his legs locked together. What a Cronenbergian horror show we’re witnessing here? 

And if it were up to me... I’d take it one further. The act 1 look is spot on, I’d change very little, but the act 2 look I’d take in a very dark direction. See diagram below

Obviously the actor would still have a face, bear with me. 

So Act 1 Lumiere is largely unchangd. I’d add a high collar of gold to give the illustion of restriction while staying flexible enough to let the actor “Be Our Guest” without discomfort. The gold encroachments would be a mix of fabric, paint, and flexible appliance for 3D elements. The spot at his sash especially would have a hard portion with some projection so that the audience could see that it was supposed to be metal. I’d continue the gold like veins down his arms and up his pants, extending from actual buttons, buckles, or cuff designs to give the infection a point of origin. When we hit Act 2 we’ve hit “The Thing” territory with this. The metal elements are now choking his joints and restricting him (while being made of a thick fabric or light rubber or something that allows for a wide range of movement that the actor’s body language would make look more restrictive. I don’t want to give the actor a claustrophobic panic attack in this thing) I’d remove hints of his ankles and skin, painting his face to look like his flesh has become wax and cover his eyebrows or paint them gold if that doesn’t read well from the balcony. Bits of the blue (or whatever color his Act 1 costume is) will peek through at slashes where the gold is thinnest, but the gold would overall take on a very organic almost viney look to imply growth as the man is being surounded and consumed by the curse.

The other objects would get similar treatment with Cogsworth becoming wooden, Mrs. Potts becoming porcelain with cracks at her shoulders and elbows, the imagination flourishes. But basically I hope that answers the question. It was a fun thought experiment and got really long >< It stirred up my creative juices so thanks very much for asking!

PS if you’re curious about Threadcaster (my fantasy novel about curses that slowly turn innocent children into earth, wind, water, or fire and the girl with magic string who takes a journey to stop this) it’s still on Covid sale over on amazon. 

[ofsacriifices]

PRINCE ADAM / BEAST TAG DUMP

&& NSFW. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& VISAGE. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& AESTHETIC. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& DESIRES. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& HEADCANON. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& RELATION: BELLE. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& RELATION: MAURICE. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& RELATION: GASTON. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& RELATION: CHIP. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& RELATION: LEFOU. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& RELATION: COGSWORTH. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& RELATION: LUMIERE. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& RELATION: MRS. POTTS. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& PERMANENT STARTER CALL. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& THREADS. ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

&& OTP. PRINCE ADAM x BELLE ⎯⎯⎯ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴅᴀᴍ

[residentofthedisc]

Tocktick Extract - Maia and Talas by ResidentoftheDisc/H.M

The candle flickered companionably in the makeshift room.

Maia looked up from her cross-legged position on the bed, deftly darning her gloves and smiled.

Talas was leant so close to the prosthetic on the table that his nose was almost brushing it. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, the paintbrush steady in his left hand. In the candlelight, his cloud of black curls became a halo, the lines of exhaustion softened and he looked his age.

“What are you painting?” she asked in Sunnet.

“It’s a surprise,” he replied, not looking up.

“It is my leg,” Maia pointed out, tasting the formalness of her response. They needed a language of their own, she mused dreamily, pulling a thread tight, somewhere between their native tongues.

“You can have a clue.”

“A riddle?”

Talas looked up at her and offered a cheeky half-smile. “If you’re in the mood.”

“I am always in the mood. Go on, what’s the clue?”

“How many years have we been married?”

Maia blinked. “Um, eight?”

Talas laughed and put a hand over his heart. Paint dripped onto the table, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I am horrified that my wife, my love of life, my heart wouldn’t remember our own wedding anniversary.”

“Oh!” Maia clapped a hand over her mouth. “Is it the third?”

Laughing, Talas nodded.

“I thought that was tomorrow!”

“You’re a day out, sweetheart.” Talas chuckled and shook his head, leaning back to his work. “You’ve been stuck with me for nine years as of… an hour ago? I don’t know the time difference between the Islands and home.”

Maia grinned ruefully. “Cannot believe I forgot.”

A theatrical sigh was the only response.

“Am I forgiven?”

Talas glanced up again. He smiled. “Always. And you haven’t guessed. I gave you the clue.”

Biting her lip in thought, Maia put aside her sewing and absently rubbed the stump of her leg. “Nine years,” she said.

“Nine years. That’s the clue.”

“Hmmm. Can I have a look?”

“That’s not a clue. That’s the answer!”

“Damn. Foiled.”

@queer-crusader @rebelqueen-immortalbadass @fields-of-ink @cogsworth @dragonstoravens @radioactive-tiefling

[wiltedthrone]

@hecrowned​ says: “ I’ll come get my things. ” ( melodrama meme. )

days  had  been  spent  scrubbing  the  remnants  of  ben  from  every  surface.  he  had  been  scratched  out  from  in  between  the  lines  of  her  favorite  songs.  she  wiped  away  the  dust  he  left  behind  that  caked  the  places  in  her  mind  his  memory  used  to  call  home.  every  crack,  every  crevice  had  to  be  purged.  like  vines,  they  had  grown  together,  so  intertwined  with  each  other  it  was  hard  to  tell  them  apart.  where  did  her  clothes  end  and  his  begin  in  her  closet?  jackets  that  had  been  left  behind  no  longer  bore  the  comforting  scent  of  a  love,  sweet  and  innocent.  their  season  had  passed,  their  once  blossoming  love  shriveled  and  dead  with  the  bitter  winter  and  the  turn  of  the  leaves.  some  bearings  were  built  to  survive,  for  they  adapted.  they  were  not  one  of  them.  tears  that  had  split  into  the  box  of  what  was  left  of  his  things  had  dried  up,  so  he  would  never  know  they  were  shed.  he,  like  everyone  else,  never  knew  when  they  did  anyway.  not  that  it  was  their  fault.  walls  were  built  for  a  reason,  so  prying  eyes  wouldn’t  see  what  was  meant  to  be  hidden.

she  couldn’t  have  him  in  her  room.  even  when  he  was  gone,  his  presence  would  linger  whether  it  be  through  scent  or  memory.  she’d  have  to  watch  him  walk  out  that  door  again,  for  good,  knowing  he  was  no  longer  hers.  she  didn’t  want  an  encore  to  the  shattering  of  her  heart,  she  couldn’t  handle  it.  when  he  steps  forward,  she  moves  in  front  of  him.  “  i  don’t  want  you to  come  in,  ben.  ” his  name  is  foreign  on  her  tongue.   when  had  he  become  ben  and  not  bennybear  or  bennyboo?  she  was  no  longer  the  girl  who used  to  match  his  every  footfall.  he  was  no  longer  her  sun,  yet  she  still  felt  as  if she   was  nothing  but  a  shadow  to  him.  how  easy  it  must  have  been  for  him  to  eradicate  her.  all  he  had  to  do  was  find  something  brighter  to  look  at. 

there  used  to  be  times  where  she’d  beg  him  to  stay  a  little  longer,  now  she  could  barely  express  that  he  was  no  longer  welcome.  arms  cross  around  her  middle,  her  eyes  focused  on  his  shoes.  didn’t  she  buy  those  for  him?  if  she  had,  his  initials  would  be  stitched  on  the  inside.  hours  had  been  spent,  pricking  her  finger,  holding  golden  thread  in  her  mouth.  would  he  get  rid  of  them  now?  “  it  wouldn’t  be  good  for  either  of  us.  .  .  so.  .  .  ”  her  eyes  fall  somewhere  down  the  hall,  wishing  she  could  run  away,  disappear  or  go  back  to  a  time  where  her  heart  still  felt  full.  “  so  .  .  .  i’ll  have  lumiere  and  cogsworth  bring  them  to  you.  ”  she  almost  added  “if  that’s  okay”  but  she  wasn’t  okay,  she  was  far  from  it,  so  why  would  she  bend  over  backwards  to  accommodate  anyone  else?  “  you  should  go.   i’m  sure  your  new   best  friends  are  wondering  where  you  are.  ”

[paulpanics]

Paul and Claude had a complicated relationship. The two have hooked up more times than Paul can keep track, but Claude had made it very clear that it was just that and nothing more. Paul liked that Claude was serious and precise, strict with the way he did things and lived his life. It was almost opposite to himself — they craved structure, sure, but Paul was far from organized or put-together, and living with Paxton under Harold’s control made sure things stayed that way for him. Maybe that was why Paul was so drawn to the other, but they did their best to not let it show that feelings were actually developing.

It had been awhile since he and Claude saw each other, but tonight happened to be unplanned. Paul was just grabbing a drink before meeting up with their brother, mentally preparing for whatever Paxton wanted to drag them into. When they turned their head and saw Claude at the bar ordering a drink, their eyes widened slightly. “Claude ... Hey. It’s uh, it’s been a minute.” @claudecogsworth​