lvmiieres

[lvmiieres]

nate-thana‌:

Honestly, he had tried to get through the whole reception without an incident, he had. When need be he had excused himself off to the side, had tried to keep his breathing at a steady pace so as not to alert anyone of his discomfort. Yet, that hadn’t really been enough. Eventually, the inevitable happened. He hadn’t really been planning on being out on the dance floor again, not when he had just finished a dance and really needed to stop his heart racing, but it was also hard to pull away from the tugging on his hand as he had been pulled into the fray. Then there was the fact that they had ended up in the middle of the group during a song that did not lend itself to distance between dancers. Quickly Nate had started to feel his pulse speed up and small beads of sweat began to move down his forehead. 

With a rushed - and possibly seen as rude - apology, Nate practically tore away from the dance floor, rushing himself to the nearest balcony. He wasn’t even sure if they were allowed to open the doors out to them just yet, but fuck it. He would ask for forgiveness later if that was necessary. His heart still raced in his chest as he clutched onto the railing, breaths still jagged. He hadn’t even noticed another person joining him out there until it was too late to pretend like he was anything but not okay. 

“What are you doing out here?” @lvmiieres​

lumiére had always taught them to be gracious. he had always instilled in them certain values and beliefs that he had imagined would serve them well, in life ; most of them borrowed from observing how the children of his royal friends and employers were raised. no invitation that crossed their path was to be refused, unless it was simply impossible to ATTEND. it was nice to be nice, and it was better to make a marked effort when others had extended the same courtesy ; just one of the reasons behind noémie finding themselves at the wedding of olivia white and nate thana, dolled up and smile on. it was a beautiful affair. that, emmy couldn’t deny. love in such a pure form was a wonder to behold, and they could appreciate that, at the very least.

they weren’t seeking the groom out when they made a beeline towards the only open set of doors out to a secluded balcony. they weren’t even giving in to the desire buried deep down for a breath of fresh air and a moment of silence ( they had been taught that such things simply didn’t abide, in events such as these ). a glass of champagne had been spilled down their front ( it was almost assuredly their bad luck kicking in ), and plan one was to dab it with a napkin in privacy before admitting defeat and finding a bathroom. in fact, they were in the process of doing so when nate spoke up, startling them, somewhat, when they had thought it was empty.

“disaster struck,” they flashed a sheepish smile, giving a tiny wave of the napkin that was clenched in one fist ( and not feeling they had to point out the spreading stain down their front ). it was only once they refocused on him that they noticed the way he clung to the balcony’s railing ; white knuckled. panicked. on his wedding day, too. their expression clouded. “you seem tense,” it seemed the best way to frame it, “is there anything that i can do?” 

[lvmiieres]

kaelachristensen‌:

while the atmosphere of the bustling cafe would have been calming to some, kaela’s mind was still on over drive. which was fine in the moments were she was answering e-mails, making sure everything was in order before she went on holiday. between her rigorous typing her gaze drifted away from the screen in front of her - hand floating to take hold of her black coffee and taking a sip. her eyes were looking at nothing in particular - the living embodiment of ‘lights are on, no one’s upstairs’. she was stressed, for more reasons than just her work load. she didn’t do well with emotions. never did well with feeling the absence of someone important, no matter how deserving such an absence felt at a time. 

she hadn’t even noticed emmy appear, but suddenly they were there, friendly smile on their features. she didn’t have the emotional energy to mimic such a gesture, as much as she might want to. “i don’t mind it - usually headphones make being alone less awkward before you get used to it.” her words were by no means a dismissal - simply just FACT, though it probably sounded like the former due to her lack of enthusiasm. being alone on the isle was easy but in auradon… with judging eyes always present, she found the information to be a pro-tip. to further affirm that it was NOT a rejection, kaela started moving her things away from the unaccompanied seat. “figured you would have been headed home for the holidays or something, by now. the whole lot of university students. are you staying here for break?”

it was such a shame, to see such... emptiness, on such a beautiful face. yes, it was a shallow line of thought - but noémie meant WELL in thinking it, as while kaela was quite admittedly a looker, they found great value in her CHARACTER, as well. not everyone they had shared a night with was as deserving of such warmth, after. the girl before her was the exception, not the rule, and they would have felt like a far worse person if they had simply ignored her and kept on going.

“i have a little difficulty with that,” they replied, wryly - giving a light tap to their right ear, behind which lay the small bud that represented their aid. even if the sound were perfect ( and to be fair, it was close enough ), they would always forgo listening to spotify when there was the option of white noise, instead. there was a simple sort of joy attached to people watching in a bustling café. if emmy were a WRITER, they knew where they would have found their inspiration. they took kaela’s words in their stride, though, happily taking that opening for their version of a joke ; and not allowing her tone dissuade them from this moment. graciously, they took the open chair ; sliding in with a distinct lack of grace, but with an expression in place that never faltered from OPEN and affable. “my dad is hosting this year, so i don’t even have to leave the city. my mom’s flying in with my stepdad and the twins, in...” a quick glance to their watch, though their gaze came back up quickly, “just a few more hours, actually. are you not going anywhere, kaela?” is that why you look so... forlorn, is the question that they cannot ask, though they are prepared at the drop of a hat to offer the other a place at their TABLE if it’s simply holiday blues.

[lvmiieres]

Text Message: No

Ava: I found some of your things

Ava: i'll be dropping it off on your doorstep in five minutes

Ava: Don't open the door.

emmy: ava... our world isn't big enough to avoid seeing one another ever again, for the rest of our lives.

emmy: am i really expected to sit in here and know you're outside? do i not even get to say hello, or thank you?

[lvmiieres]

[lvmiieres]

*   closed   starter   for   /   @kaelachristensen​   !

few things could create such instant relief in noémie as the sharp hitting scent of GROUND coffee that assaulted them upon their entry to a local café. the tinny bell above the door heralded their arrival, and ever the lover of the simple things in life, they gave appropriate pause to fully take IN the warmth - welcome given how chilly it was outside - and smell, taking a deep breath and allowing their shoulders relax as a small smile began to make its way in place. it froze, however, as their brown eyes came to rest upon a familiar figure, who seemed... half a world away.

emmy knew well enough to know that if that look came from any place in particular, they weren’t likely to find out. that was, in itself, a non-issue. but she was the only one perched at a rickety table who sat alone, and noémie was, at their heart, an empath - even without promise of hearing the thoughts running around the others mind, they maneuvered their way around tables and chairs carefully ( pausing only briefly to request a macchiato from a server they passed by ), coming to a final stop before kaela. they cleared their throat, and allowed their lips to pull upwards. “may i keep you company?” it occurred to them, of course, that there was a strong chance she simply didn’t want any. but asking wasn’t a crime, was it? and no harm in admitting- “i hate sitting on my own in places like this.”

[lvmiieres]

Love Myself - Hailee Steinfeld // (photo credit)

[lvmiieres]

I am mine, before I am ever anyone else’s.

nayyirah waheed (via domrps)

[lvmiieres]

I am my lover. I am the one that tends my garden. I am the one I will always say goodnight to last.

Nicholas A Browne (via wnq-writers)

[lvmiieres]

ft.   @arlomerlin   !

Nancy Drew | 1.02 The Secret of the Old Morgue - 1.05 The Case of the Wayward Spirit

“Are you asking to be my friend? Yeah.”

[lvmiieres]

calofdunbroch‌:

It was interesting to see how some people responded to the winter weather. Some areas in Auradon City seemed to shut down the second a slight breeze blew in. For Callum the cold and wet were nothing new. Scotland was pretty much cold and wet all year long. Walking down the street with his portfolio bag tucked under his arm and in a long black trench coat, he didn’t seem bothered by the blistering winds or the bone chilling temperatures that settled in. It was the side effect of winter, and he was much too occupied with other things to give the weather much of a care.

An incident at the diner had caused for him to lose all the proofs for a major freelancing job he’d procured - and he only had minutes before he needed to present his work to the clients. If he didn’t make it to this meeting… that was a good chunk of money gone, and, given his decision to forgo having his wealthy mothers pay for anything while he was away at college, Callum needed this job to keep him afloat during the holiday season. It was this thought that had him swiftly, and yet carefully, maneuvering his way down the slick sidewalks of Auradon City. He was just a handful of blocks away from the ad agency he was presenting work for, brand new and just barely printed proofs in his bag. It had been a nightmare finding time to reprint his work from the other night but he’d managed to get things back in order swiftly.

All had been going well, the Scotsman weaving in and out of the slower pedestrians as he drew closer to the meeting place. He had almost found himself on a collision course with a cyclist speeding down the pavement, but was quick enough to step aside and not get hit. Another pedestrian a few yards ahead of him wasn’t as lucky. Callum winced at the sight, watching the other and the objects in their arms fall on the floor around them. The cyclist didn’t seem to care - their laughter carried even to Callum’s ears as they whirled past. He watched them with a disapproving scowl, but continued minding his own and walking quickly along the walk. He’d almost tripped over the ballet bar but carefully sidestepped it.

In that moment, Callum had made the mistake of glancing at the victim of the collision from the corner of his eye. They looked a bit pitiful to him, on the floor with their things spread out around them. It looked like a bit of a nasty tumble, and there was a part of the young man - specifically the part that had this deep sense of duty and chivalry - that demanded he stop and help out. But if he did that… he would be late to his meeting, and the agency made it plain that they would not tolerate any sort of tardiness with the freelance artist.

There was a tumultuous conflict brewing in his head, one that caused him to stop mid step and kept his feet planted firmly there. It had only taken a few seconds to ruin everything, a stark comparison to how long it’d taken him to build up this very proposal, but he knew what needed to be done. Allowing himself to let go of any thoughts of the project, or the payment that would have awaited him, Callum pivoted and knelt down beside the other, reaching out to help gather up their things. “Can I help ye up?” He asked softly, offering his hand to the fallen, concern weaved into his gaze. “Unfortunately there is a lack of good mannered people in this city. I hope ye’ll accept my apology on that idiot’s behalf.”

a handful of people existed within the world who might have said that noémie really wasn’t ENTITLED to the anger that had brewed so completely in mere seconds. she was clumsy by nature. she was just as likely to cause an accident with nothing more than her two good feet than she was to get caught up in one - and... who was she, to assume the worst of someone and feel it was on purpose. she hadn’t gotten out of the way in time. they might have, quite simply, been entertained at the sight. their laughter didn’t HAVE to mean they were delighting in her pain ( and mild embarrassment ).

except she knew the edge that lay underneath it. recognized it, even as they disappeared into the distance ( hopefully into oncoming traffic ) and the sound died around her. causing her to fall might have been an accident in itself, but there wasn’t any sympathy, after the fact. that was reason enough to simmer. thank god for all of the sleet surrounding her.

noémie was a dancer. a GOOD ONE, at that. she possessed a degree of bodily awareness that made her so, and on a stage, she was hauntingly beautiful and frankly, well coordinated in a way that she was NOT, on regular flat surfaces. rising from the ground shouldn’t have been much of an issue, except her booted feet found little purchase on the icy surface top, and caused her to hit the ground once more. she balled up some of the sludge in frustration, tossing it with force to try and ease some of that feeling. it didn’t work, and it made her feel a lot more sheepish when she realized that a passerby had come to a very definite stop before her. she didn’t need to turn her gaze too far upwards - his crouch put them almost on level with one another, which only made the vague embarrassment she felt for her outburst more pronounced, and when the question came on the back of a thick irish accent, there was a hint of surprise coloring her expression, too.

“right now? you’re my hero,” she sighed - taking the offered hand with UNDENIABLE gratitude filling her features, finally able to rise from the mess of sludge beneath her. she knew well enough that the back of her jacket along with.... everything else, really - had to be soaked, but she was just glad to be on her own two feet again. small mercies, small triumphs. “i’ll accept it-” a hint of a smile pulled at her lips, for the first time since the whole debacle, “but i hope you know it’s not your responsibility to apologize for someone else.” even if the gesture was welcome. even if his stopping to help SAID something that the others actions hadn’t. “thank you, for your help. i really appreciate it.”

[lvmiieres]

[lvmiieres]

I’m on nobody’s side but my own. And if that sounds selfish, it’s because it is.

From Everville by Clive Barker (via hush-syrup)

[lvmiieres]

there’s sunlight tracing her skin because everywhere she is that’s how the light gets in  and there’s a bravery I get when she whispers “hello” like the world is conquerable and I am just steps from being crowned  so when people ask who saved me from drowning  I have to be honest and say “myself” but I couldn’t have done without her help  and there is ink staining the pages of the histories and they spell out here her name  because she is flowers and freedom, sugar and spite  the stars twinkle in her eyes and the sun has met it’s match in her grin oh, let me tell the the constellations they have nothing on her

roses and thorns, she is by Abby S (via fireandsteelofangels)

[lvmiieres]

arlomerlin‌:

Even from a distance Arlo could tell that the person ahead of them was Noémie. They could tell by the way she walked, elegant, poised, as if she was walking on a cloud. However, Arlo could also tell that the ballerina was carefully calculating every step. Rather than calling out her name and startling her, Arlo picked up their pace, hoping to catch up. Before they could, however, some asshole on a bike sped past them, heading straight for Noémie. Turning their brisk walk into a run, Arlo hoped to be able to stop the situation from happening all together, but they were a few seconds too late. The cyclist was now laughing at the sight as they sped past the girl who was now on the ground. They wanted to keep going, confront the cyclist, but the more pressing matter was helping their friend. “You’re an absolute prick, you know that?” They yelled their piece, releasing some of the anger with their words before turning to Noémie and offering a hand. “Emmy, are you alright?” 

if she believed in LUCK, she would believe in her own curse. there had to be a reason for her notoriously bad luck ; the kind that had only barely stopped short of causing a lasting injury over her twenty one years of life. even now - though the fall stung both her ass and her EGO, noémie had come away from it most definitely unscathed.

she gave up the struggle that attempting to right herself on her lonesome was, the very MOMENT that she heard arlo’s voice from behind. warmth bloomed within her chest in spite of the winter chill, and she turned soft brown eyes onto them, hand outstretching expectantly before she had even really known that they were reaching for her. presumptuous, yes - but could you blame her that?

“i think i’ll be avoiding squats for a while,” she joked, lightly - clutching their hand and finally getting their two feet underneath them, once more. their gym bag slipped, but they righted it carefully and looked around - eyes scanning for the bar that couldn’t have clattered too far away. “but other than that, i’ve had worse. thanks for the HAND, arlo - sorry it was needed.”

[lvmiieres]

heavy checkered winter coat pulled tight over a pastel pink, too large jumper. light grey woolly hat with a bobble on atop over long, braided hair. big, mitten type gloves keeping too delicate fingers toasty. there was an undeniable chill to the air, and noémie had reacted as anybody would - bundling herself up past ALL sense. she was taking her time walking the streets of auradon, almost excessively so ; each step taken in her huge winter boots carefully deliberated, all the better to avoid a catastrophic accident. if anyone would have one, it would be her, and if she were going to suffer the first topple of the winter months, it would be when one hand was clutching the strap of her sports bag and the other was holding on tight to the portable ballet bar that she hauled out for private lessons. 

she was ACHINGLY self aware. always had been. while noémie could rely on natural elegance on STAGE, she couldn’t trust it to keep her safe in dire times such as these. if there were a single patch of well hidden black ice along her route home, her footfalls would almost certainly find it - and as so, she was taking every precaution that she COULD to avoid a painful tumble at an inopportune time. just five more minutes. five more minutes, and she would be ( relatively ) safe within the walls of theta pi. it was a comforting mantra. 

the unfortunate tragedy, of course, was that while she could control her own movements well enough - she had no power over others. five minutes had turned into a projected three when the sound of a bicycle bell from behind startled her, and noémie spun on her heel ; realizing that she was in their oncoming path in just enough time to jump out of their way with a STARTLED, “merde!” their cackles, audible over the crunch of tire on gravel and icy sleet, was the background music to the rather spectacular events of the next moment. she failed to catch the right footing in time to avoid the fall she had been avoiding, and weighed down by her gym bag, it was over in seconds. the ballet bar clattered across the ground, and she let out a little ‘humph!’ sound as her body met the pavement.

“asshole!” she shouted after them - throwing up a middle finger, though they were now PAST seeing it. further rage bubbled, but she decided to channel it, instead, into the new challenge of righting herself, once more. 

[lvmiieres]

´   ･   .   ✶   ⧼    maddison   jaizani,   demiwoman,   she   &   they   /   s.l.u.t.   by   bea   miller,   clothes   strewn   around   an   otherwise   tidy   room,   worn   pointe   shoes   placed   with   care   upon   the   nearest   soft   surface.   dark   hair   pulled   back   into   messy   ponytail   with   a   pink   scrunchie,   lacy   bralettes   worn   beneath   warm   wool   jumpers   in   pastel   colors.   the   soft,   crackling   sound   of   etta   james   coming   through   on   a   floral   patterned   record   player.    ⧽   ━━   don't   look   now,   but   that's   the   coquette,   also   known   as   MARIE-RENOIR   NOÉMIE   LUMIÉRE.   i   heard   their   father   is   LUMIÉRE,   the   casanova   of   all   candelabras.   the   TWENTY   ONE   year   old   is   a   junior   at   auradon   university   and   is   majoring   in   EDUCATION.   they've   always   been   CONGENIAL   &   SAGACIOUS   &   AUDACIOUS   ;   but   i've   heard   they   can   be   pretty   PERTINACIOUS   &   INSCRUTABLE   &   ACERBIC,   too.   you   can   check   out   their   stat   page   HERE   and   their   pinterest   board   HERE.

there   was   something   SOFT   &   MOIST   about   her,                                a   dare,   a   rage,   an   intolerable   tenderness.

SECTION ONE OF THREE : BIOGRAPHY

she is the bridge between two cultures. the connecting sinew of two different worlds. marie-renoir noémie lumiére is born in the midst of her parents honeymoon period on a dewy winter morning. her father is committed to monogamy, until he isn’t. her mother is content, until she is not. they are HAPPY, until they aren’t. looking back, the fault lies on no one’s shoulders in particular. the problem lay not with them as individuals, but them as a partnership - a lesson, in it’s own way, that good friends should try to avoid that leap into romance that they thought would take them all the way. by the time that she is celebrating a year of LIFE, her mother and father have amicably split ; no hard feelings, just endless respect. custody is verbally agreed, not bitterly battled. her father can ensure the finest education, the finest things in life - summers will be spent with her mother, while the rest of the year she will call her father’s abode her home. they grow up with two languages flowing fluently from their tongue, with an appreciation for each half of THEMSELVES that few people possess in full.

the time spent with her mother is spent soaking up the sun and being the child that they are. summers are freedom, in their books, from all the expectations of the rest of the year. burdens that certainly feel like so, though they try to act as if they don’t. at home with their father, they are privately educated and expected to excel. this is fine. they can take that pressure on their shoulders with grace, they think, so long as they are always able to dance. it’s an unexpected talent. in day to day, they are clumsy - even as a child, they bumped their head and scratched their knees in an all manner of avoidable accidents. they will never be one to wear heels in fear of toppling, and so, the insistence to be enrolled with a local company after watching a performance of swan lake makes her father chuckle. he expects her to quit when she realizes that she isn’t capable of such delicate movements and graceful twirls, but six months later when he sits in the audience and witnesses her perform in don quixote, he is not able to hide the TEARS that spring to his eyes. so begins a lifetime of ballet lessons four times weekly, recitals every other month. they swiftly become one of the company’s most prized students, a prima ballerina in all ways but title. they are known to be clumsy, and they laugh along with others who poke harmless fun - but when they tie their pointe shoes on and step onto a stage, they are something different. something beautiful. something world ending.

their mother remarries. their father does not. they love their stepfather and later on, their little half siblings with all of their might - they tolerate half of their fathers conquests, though some leave truly lasting impressions. still, there is no ill will, and every christmas they gather as one to celebrate. it is strange, she thinks. this set up that they have. as they grow older, as they share details with their friends, they are told and they realize that people don’t think that it’s exactly normal. she asks her mother, one day, why she smiles so widely at the new partner on her fathers arm each year. why she isn’t hurt by his actions. why she didn’t stay. she’s genuinely CURIOUS, and her mother doesn’t treat the subject as taboo - she fixes a soft expression in place that is reserved just for her, and the words she says form a key part of noémie’s character : your father’s heart is simply too big for just one person, and mine is not. i’ll always love him. he’ll always love me. it’s no ones fault that the way we love wasn’t compatible.

they think, later, that they relate a little bit to that sentiment. that aside from natural confidence, they might just have inherited that too big heart from their FATHER, too. they’re electric. growing close to people isn’t hard when you’re a magnetic force, and noémie is never without company. she values deep connection, the most. she doesn’t think that she could ever fall for someone who didn’t know her blind. but she learns, as she grows, that she enjoys fleeting romance. even if she knows that she won’t allow it last, it is still nice to be entwined with another’s life, for a time.

SECTION TWO OF THREE : OVERVIEW

born marie-renoir noémie lumiére on february 20th, 1998, to eustache lumiére & fontaine la croix. her mother and father - good friends for years - married in the summer of ‘97 due to a medical condition known as ‘pregnancy’. they amicably split six months after noémie’s birth.

their custody arrangement involved emmy living with lumiére from september to late may, as his job and social standing assured the greatest upbringing for her. her mother took her from june through august.

no real drama, parents wise. her mother remarried and had twin daughters a few years later, and lumiére remained a player. the two continued to get along like a house on fire for noémie’s entire life, and joined one another for multiple holiday’s during the year. 

suffered from bacterial meningitis as a child, resulting in a loss of hearing in her right ear. 

expectations were rampant, but lumiére meant well. he wanted a good life for her, so he pushed her to excel. this was all well and good, given that she certainly had the capacity for it, but it has left her with a perfectionist complex in adult life.

found her first love in ballet, and has yet to really find a second. she’s one of her company’s most prized jewels, and holds the honor of being the student with the most starring roles under her tutu. her dance talent shocks EVERYBODY who knows her due to her undeniable clumsiness in day to day life, but that doesn’t really matter.

they were an early bloomer, so to speak, and this has been a blessing and curse. they’ve always been comfortable with who they are. other people have not. 

SECTION THREE OF THREE : HEADCANONS

noémie loves love, but perhaps is not as built for it as she would like. she gets a certain thrill from flirtation and she enjoys being with people. it isn’t a crime, she thinks, to date often and never truly commit. there have, of course, been those who have treated it as such. she’s not a stranger to slurs, and she knows that there are certain rumors ( some of which there’s truth to ) spread of her, routinely. but no one raised primarily by the casanova that lumiére is has much SHAME attached to who they are.

she has gone by noémie for so long, sometimes even she forgets that it isn’t her GIVEN name. she can thank her paternal grandmother for the clunky first name that she has never quite enjoyed ; she died the same week that she was BORN, missing her grandchild’s arrival into the world by little more than a day. it was meant to be an honor, she’s told, but if it was… then why did it weigh her down so much? perhaps it offended her father, in a way, but at least noémie was hers.

she had just turned four when she was struck down with bacterial meningitis. her mother thought that it was nothing but a summer flu, but when her fever began to reach unheard of heights, the PANIC set in. the doctor who saw to her insisted she be brought to the nearest emergency room immediately, and she didn’t see the outside of that hospital again until two weeks had passed. she survived UNSCATHED, at least - in a sense. single sided deafness in her right ear, specifically. her parents were told that she was incredibly lucky that she was even alive, and that they should be grateful for such a small price. they didn’t feel the way they were told they should, but they certainly passed on the sentiment to their little girl when she grew and wondered why she was not quite the same to the other kids she knew. her mother learned bsl and her father learned lsf, and she learned enough in both to make her life that little bit easier. it was by no means easy - the learning or the life that followed - but she was young and adaptable, and it served as a harsh reminder that sometimes, the world will take. in her mid teens, she underwent the surgery to implant a transcranial cros - a bone anchored hearing aid, to you and i, that provided a MARKED improvement.

she’s never actually had a relationship, completely by design. she’s never DATED. noémie enjoys flings, she enjoys flirtation, she loves sex - but she won’t put herself in a position to disappoint someone when she can’t be what they want her to be. she’s open with anyone she finds herself involved with. no strings attached, non exclusive, it’s never going to go anywhere. anyone who doesn’t listen, anyone who ends up hurt because they believe she’ll change her mind.... that’s on them.

she can be quite... vain, to put it mildly. you have to keep in mind that noémie is someone who has been set up from a young age as... a real beauty. her looks have been valued, even if she has not been. she’s aware that she’s conventionally attractive, and she’s aware that it makes her life easier in a lot of ways. it does not, however, help her to be taken more seriously in life. 

her grade point average is in the top tenth percentile, a standing she’s maintained for years. not only is she BEAUTY, but she’s also quite literally brains. 

she’s all shorts and bralettes beneath soft knit sweaters. she smells of lavender and cedar, exclusively. she’s ONLY comfortable when she’s wearing her pointe shoes.