#batb 207

[myfellowcandlesticks]

Title: Little Bird Pairing: it’s mostly about Phénixine, but since she’s their daughter: Lumiere/Plumette  Word count: 1242

@lumiereswig i love Phénixine so much i can’t stop thinking about her 💞 

The floor squeaks under her slippers and she giggles, delighted, as she waves her tiny hands in the air.

“Be careful, ma petite plume,” Plumette calls after her.

But Phénixine isn’t listening. She’s only recently discovered the joy of running, and she has no intention of stopping. The castle is a world of its own, with so many rooms and passageways to explore. First the Great Hall, where the tall, silent man by the door pretends to steal her nose. She laughs and steals his in return, and he looks for it all around the room—is it under the table? is it on the coat rack?—and her favourite part is returning it to him, because of the kind smile that appears on his face.

After that, there’s the parlour. Chip’s maman is there, sipping her tea.

“Look who’s up already,” she says. “You don’t take after your parents—poor dears.” And then she chuckles, and Phénixine feels safe and warm, and for a moment considers staying here.

Then she hears something, a lovely sound coming from another room, and she runs off towards a new adventure.

“Don’t wander off too far, poppet,” Chip’s maman tells her.

[Read more on AO3 or:]

The sound is coming from the ballroom. Phénixine leans on the door to push it open. She slips inside, mesmerised by the sounds and lights. Zio and Zietta are making music.

“Ciao stellina!” Zietta exclaims upon seeing Phénixine. “How beautiful you are!”

“Come sit at the harpsichord with your Zio Cadenza, we will play your favourite song,” Zio says, sliding on the bench to make room for Phénixine.

“Or perhaps you would prefer to sing?” Zietta asks, the ruffles on her sleeves swaying with every movement of her arms.

Phénixine shakes her head, making her curls bounce off her face. She’s not sure how to tell them what she wants, so she decides to demonstrate instead; she runs in a circle, waving her arms.

“Ah!” Zio smiles. “She wants to dance, naturalmente!”

Music once again fills the room, and Zietta’s beautiful voice rises in the air like butterflies in a field. Phénixine twirls and twirls, watching her dress flow around her. One song, two songs, and then she’s distracted by the sound of footsteps just outside the ballroom. Leaving her Zio and Zietta to their music, she twirls into the hallway.

It’s Prince Adam, holding books and quills and a big round thing that Phénixine instantly wants to hold in her hands.

“Hello.” The Prince gives her a friendly pat on the head.

“Ball!” Phénixine says, extending her arms towards the big round thing.

“This?” the Prince points at the object. “It’s called a globe. This is our world, Phéxinine. Here, it’s yours.”

She takes it, holds it close to her heart, and suddenly she doesn’t feel like throwing it up in the air anymore. Prince Adam pats her on the head again. “I’ll teach you all about countries and continents when you’re older. Geography is great fun.”

He walks away, and Phénixine is so fascinated with the globe that she doesn’t notice she’s waddled right into the library.

“Oh, hello there,” Belle says, putting down the small hammer she’s been holding. “Want to help me with my newest invention?”

Phénixine, still holding her globe, takes a few cautious steps closer. There’s a weird contraption in the center of the room. She tilts her head to the side, wondering what it could possibly be.

“It’s a sewing machine,” Belle explains. “It’ll make sewing so much easier—and faster. But don’t tell Auntie Garderobe,” she winks, “it’s a surprise, for her birthday.”

Inventing feels like a grown-up’s job. Phénixine loses interest when she realises she can’t use the screwdriver to colour in the metallic parts. It makes Belle laugh. “Papa is painting in his atelier; why don’t you go there? He’ll give you paper and some colours to paint with.”

So now Phénixine is in the atelier, where Maurice lets her finger-paint flowers and feathers. She leaves the globe on the floor, unwilling to touch it with her sticky fingers. Maurice teaches her the names of colours—yellow, pink, purple—and calls her finished painting a masterpiece. She gives it to him as a present. He is very pleased; he shows her how to write her name at the bottom of the paper. “Sign your work, so everyone knows it’s yours.”

Once that’s done, it’s time to move on to the kitchen. The big man in the white apron helps her sit down at the table, where he gives her bonbons and chocolates. He watches her eat, grinning when she asks for more, please. “Of course!” he says. “And how about a meringue too?”

Out in the hallway, the curtains seem to come alive in the gentle spring breeze. Phénixine's eyes widen. The sun licks the window frames, lighting up the wood like fire. It calls her, all of it—the sun, the wind, the wilderness beyond the castle. The whole world in the palm of her tiny hand. She blinks and she is off the ground, she is floating, leaving a slipper behind. Up, up, up; the sky is right there, big and blue, calling her name.

“Good heavens!”

Someone pulls her down by her ankles, gently, drawing her away from the window, away from the sky. She is disappointed only for a moment; then she sees who it is and smiles.

“Cogswow!”

“You gave me quite a fright,” Cogsworth says, holding her close.

She feels her wings retract, disappearing into her back. Now that Cogsworth is here, she forgets all about the window and the curtains and the wind and the sun—instead, she tugs lightly on the old man's moustache, laughing when his monocle falls from his eye.

“You've finally done it,” he whispers, shaking his head in astonishment. He looks at her, her beaming face, her bright eyes. “You are just like your father,” he says fondly.

“Coming from him, I am not sure you should take that as a compliment, Phénixine.”

Cogsworth turns towards Papa, who is walking down the hallway with the biggest smile on his face. “Lumiere!” Cogsworth says. “Where were you? The most extraordinary thing happened!”

Phénixine coos happily as her father kisses her on the cheek. “Something extraordinary happens every day,” he replies.

“No, you don't understand—Phénixine—she flew!”

“She flew?”

“She flew! Would've flown right out that window if I hadn't caught her!”  

“Sacre bleu!” Papa exclaims. “Plumette! Plumette come quickly!”

Maman runs towards them, clutching the side of her dress. “What is it, mon amour?”

“Our little bird has finally flown!”

“Oh mon dieu! She is growing up so fast!”

Papa and Maman lean in for a celebratory kiss, and Phénixine claps gleefully, and Cogsworth rolls his eyes. “You do realise this means she’ll need better supervision—no more running around the castle all alone.”

“You would have me keep my little bird in a cage?” Papa shakes his head. “I could never do that.”

Maman places a reassuring hand on Cogsworth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, she will be just fine.”

“How do you know that?” Cogsworth asks worriedly.

“Because you will always be here to make sure she stays out of trouble, mon ami,” Papa smiles.

There’s laughter, and kisses, and music, and Phénixine falls asleep in Cogsworth’s arms, knowing she will wake up in her room, with her loving parents watching over her, and the whole world in the palm of her hand.

i’m not sure who came up with the idea that post-curse babies have powers, but it’s been my personal headcanon for years! (edit: might have been @spectral-musette​ 💕)

{read more batb short stories on ao3 or on my blog}

[vincentcatagainsttheworld]

“My heart is racing. Mine too” How can we forget .....

#BATB 207 “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner”

[ean]

Gif request ♥

[desertwollvez]

«OneEditPerEp»

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner :2x07

[dammitjayryan]

[gosiamahoney]

[myfellowcandlesticks]

“New, and a bit alarming, who'd have ever thought that this could be?” 🌹

[desertwollvez]

[Guess Who's Coming to Dinner]

[desertwollvez]

for gosiamahoney

[desertwollvez]

[desertwollvez]

"I swear, I was feeling fine."

[desertwollvez]

No, you stole my life from me you piece of...I'm going to hunt you down.

[desertwollvez]

What a waste of a good feast.

[desertwollvez]

"I can't taste the pumpkin in these."

[desertwollvez]

There is no escape from my plan Welcome to the end.

[desertwollvez]

Can you get up off your knees? Are you brave enough to see? Do you want to change it? Just how deep do you believe? Will you bite the hand that feeds? Will you chew until it bleeds?