#phénixine

[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}

[lumiereswig]

How would Lumiere be when he has children? How does he act? Does he fall asleep on the couch cuddling with his child? Is he the first to run to them when they cry out? Things I need to know😳😳

ok so his child is definitely played by zendaya because DON’T FUCK WITH ME ABOUT THIS. IT’S ZENDAYA, OKAY. IT’S CLEARLY FUCKING ZENDAYA. I’LL COME OVER THERE AND KICK YOUR ASS.

right. so. his daughter. Phénixine, let’s say, because i’m in a bitch-ass mood and i wanna make firebird puns.

like the instant she’s born [here] he adores her.

of COURSE he falls asleep with her, is that even a QUESTION

this is the most over-cuddled child in all of existence. is she ever NOT being drawn into a hug

at first he seems to have this irrational terror of her breaking. when she runs, when she jumps, when she starts to fly: he has this terror, he has nightmares, of her dropping to the floor and shattering into a thousand pieces. it’s like some part of him still sees candelabras and featherdusters and fragile things—like he thought he was over this fear, bon sang, sacre bleau, Chapeau, what if she breaks?! Can we carpet the whole palace?!

Once she’s really gotten the hang of this flying thing, though, his fears settle down a little. She’s so light and fiery she can propel herself out of any near accident by sass alone. Like once he almost sees her fall off the banister but then she just….flits away. his heart explodes and heals in like one second, standing there in the shadows of the stairs with one hand still outstretched, and nobody ever sees.

i have no context for this but i have a vivid image of lumiere holding his daughter down by one ankle, arm completely vertical, as she hovers angrily above him. (“papa! stop it!” “most children would be saying ‘let me down,’ ma chérie chérie.” “Let me UP!”)

Basically she’s a Problem Child™ but so was Lumiere, so they get along like wildfire

i’m answering all asks! (no promises on getting any fic prompts done tonight, though.) HERE

[myfellowcandlesticks]

Lumiere, 8 F and i’m not entirely sure the emoji but “umbrella” :)

thanks for the second prompt!! you’re the best :’) ❤️

Title: Pink Umbrella Prompt: school + jitters + umbrella Word count: 475 Warnings: none

(prompts here, if anyone is interested. my inbox is open!)

Children gather in front of the library, telling each other stories or playing marbles on the wooden floor. They laugh and whisper and sing, tiny hands carrying tiny baskets full of pencils and papers and apples for the teacher.

Lumiere has seen them here before—it’s been a few years since Belle transformed her library into a school. But this time it’s different. This time he’s holding a tiny hand, and a tiny basket, and all the children look at him when he arrives. Then they look at Phénixine.

She’s five years old—five and a half, thank you very much—and she’s wearing her favorite dress, the one with the big blue ribbon. Today is her first day of school.

Lumiere crouches down to look into Phénixine’s eyes. “You are not frightened, are you, ma chérie?” he asks.

“No,” she replies absent-mindedly, already waving at the children waiting by the door.

“If you change your mind about this, we can come back next year,” Lumiere adds.

Phénixine shakes her head vehemently. “I want to go to school.”

“I know you do, mon petit bout de chou,” he whispers, gently pulling her into a hug. “And I am so proud of you.”

She hugs him back, her little fists warm on the back of his neck. This is the moment he’s been dreading for weeks. This cruel separation. How will the hours pass without her? And will she be all right without him and Plumette? What if she trips and falls? What if the other children make fun of her? What if—

“Papa,” Phénixine says, and Lumiere looks at her, looks for any sign of fear or discomfort in those big brown eyes. Instead he finds excitement, and impatience, and an expression he’s only ever seen in the mirror. “Can you get me my pink umbrella, please?”

“Your pink umbrella?”

“Yes, please.”

“Of course, mon lapin.”

And he’s off; running like his life depends on it, flying up the stairs and into Phénixine’s room. Perhaps she needs the umbrella to feel safe. Or maybe it’s for a new game the school children play. Has it ever rained indoors? Whatever it is, Lumiere wants to make his little girl happy.

But the umbrella is nowhere to be found. He checks under the bed, in the wardrobe, in the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Confused, he walks out of the room and finds Plumette in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she says.

“Does Phénixine have a pink umbrella?”

Plumette raises her eyebrows. “A pink umbrella? I don’t think so…”

A smile blooms on Lumiere’s face. It’s obvious, now. She sent him on a wild-goose chase to distract him from his nervousness. And… it worked.

“Clever girl,” he chuckles.

Plumette smiles too. “Just like her mother,” she winks.

“Yes, just like her mother.”

I borrowed the name Phénixine from @lumiereswig ; the firebird reference is so cute! (I hope you don’t mind ♡)

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