#(i doubt i need a singing tag. i dont plan on singing often)

[ravs6709]

Song of Rebirth- (TFI(HDDTG) bonus)

Read on ao3.

Masterlist. Previous. Next.

So uhhhhh, you probably noticed that chapter 2 of TFI(HDDTG) has lyrics for the siren song.

First off, most of that was made on my own. A few lines have some inspiration from the sirens song from Siren's Lament (yknow, the story this fic is inspired from)

Second off, I uh... sang it? I'm very much not a fan of my voice, but... it could have turned out much worse? So yeah, here's your bonus content where you get to hear it.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Oh you with that broken heart,

You, whose life's falling apart.

Have you come here to the sea,

To drown in your memories?

The weight of them is too strong,

Crushing you, it's all so wrong.

May the waves wash all the tears,

That you've gathered through the years.

But what if there was a way,

To make the pain go away?

To leave behind your sorrows,

Enter a new tomorrow.

I have an offer for you,

You can start your life anew.

You can escape the abyss,

All I ask is for one kiss.

[fenharel-archived]

oc a-z headcanons

tagged (like 500 years ago) by @arlathen sorry for doing this so late!! tagging: @rkyloren​ @bleden-mark @thalasians @lelibela @lelianasgf @noonvraith (this is really long dont feel pressured to do anything lmao! ♥)

Alignment: What would be their D&D alignment? How might it come into play?

True Neutral!! She’s neither a good person or a bad person, she doesn’t seek to follow the rules nor does she seek to break them. I guess it comes into play whenever she’s willing to discuss any possible solution to a problem, even things good alignet characters would disregard. But she never purposefully would pick the worst solution either. She’s just generally a very grey character.

Beverage: What do they most like to drink, and why?

Champagne (let’s pretend that exists in Tir Ná Lia) & Wine! But she adds water to it, she always wants to have a clear head.

Co-Habitat: Do they live with anyone? What’s “need to know” before moving in?

She lives together with Avallac’h! “Need to know” before moving into her home is that some of her pets are poisions or just downright dangerous, so don’t pet any unless she gave you her ok. Other than that there is not much you need to know! If she loves you she wants to share anything with you, so absolutly just make yourself comfortable. But respect that she likes things her way, so, there’s also that.

Decor: What kind of home do they keep? Are there any defining details?

She has a Mansion in Tir Ná Lia that’s definetly too big for her and Avallac’h lmao (It used to be hers alone for a long, long time). It’s surrounded by a giant garden with several pools, fountains, pavilions and bridges and her Tigers, Crocodiles and Peacocks live there (among other things). You walk several hundrets of stairs up to her main entrance. The Mansion is made out of white marble, on engraved on the floor you can follow an elder blood family tree that goes through all rooms of the estate. It also has high ceilings, spiral stairs (The style is all very elven, obviously), high windows and several balconies. Ivory and other plants grow inside of the mansion, like on the handrails. A lot of the walls have also been painted by Avallac’h. The entire basement are laboratories.

Escape: What do they do to de-stress? How successful is it?

Deithwen rarely feels the need to de-stress, because she’s rather the type to get energized by any kind of work. If someone close to her sits her down and tells her to relax for a bit then she likes to read (science books lmao), hang with her 45435 exotic animals, go places with her bf, and have sex.

Fluff: What hits their soft spot? Does anything turn them into emotional goo?

She secretly thinks she’s a bad person. Anyone who tells her that they think otherwise hits her soft spot perfectly. (ESPECIALLY if Deithwen values them very highly) :’/

Grudge: How bad does an insult go over? Do they hold a grudge long?

BADLY. Especially if the situation is emotionally charged she has a tendency to sting you. She can also hold a grudge forever without you ever knowing about it until it’s too late and you only realize because she stabs you in the back. :/ HOWEVER if whatever happened wasn’t bad enough for her to lose her trust on you, or she was never close to you in the first place, she doesn’t care about any grudges really. Girl has things to do.

Hobby: What’s something they do for fun that might be surprising?

Besides of cuddling her pet tiger and fucking yes witcher elves are weird and apparently not very horny and the stuff I already mentioned.... She does like to write, a journal or sometimes even fiction or poetry that she doesn’t share with anyone. She also indulges in philosophy and is downright fascinated by elven/human/etc. behaviour.

Insomnia: What’s their sleeping schedule like? Snorer? Sound sleeper?

She doesn’t sleep much and sometimes she talks! If she has trouble sleeping, she likes to have soft harp music in the background.

Jaded: Do they buy into the “happily ever after” ideal? What’s their standard?

Honestly? She doesn’t care.

Kin: What’s their role among their relations? Do they consider others family?

Yes!!! Family is low-key really important to her!! She’s an older sister, the firstborn in the family, a wife, an aunt, a sister in law, a mother!!

Law: What do they think about abiding rules? Are they selective about it?

Only if necessary, if she can bend them she’ll do it, if she can find loopholes, the better.

Magic: In a magic series or not, are they accepting, or is each instance a shock?

She’s a Sage :D

Network: Are they connected to the people? How much do they reach out to others?

She’s an extrovert and a leader type!! She has absolutly no problem reaching out to people and always had a natural charm to her and can be very inspiring!! She did had to learn over a long period of time how to hold her influence over people though, she used to disregard the fact that people are just people with needs for very long.

Offspring: What kind of parent would they be? Would they prefer one, or multiple?

Post TW3 she actually gets a daughter called Elaine!! :‘) She a very demanding mum with high standards and always has to remember that she needs to have more emotional tact with her kid than she has with other people. But she ultimatly takes her role as a mum very seriously and loves Elaine more than anything. If getting pregnat wouldn’t be so hard as an elf, she would have more than one child.

Pistol: Is this character skilled with a weapon? What’s their opinion of violence?

She has gathered some basic skills with the sword and with daggers over the years, but that has never really been her vibe. She is ultimatly most dangerous using magic. And she doesn’t believe in unecessary violence but she doesn’t shrink from it with the situation demands it (she prefers to be a type of commander though).

Question: How often do they feel doubt? What topics are they defensive about?

Not often she’s so self confident and head strong. She can be very defensive and absolutly pissed if her authority is questioned or challenged.

Reminder: How are they at remembering daily needs? What falls through the cracks?

If it comes to work she doesn’t forget shit. She’s more forgetful with anything that’s not about work, but then again she likes to plan everything and make notes and all that, so things fall rarely through the cracks.

Sing: Do they like music? Do they listen often/sing/hum/play songs in their head?

She does like music! Especially played by her bf or her sister. She used to have music lessons when she was a kid but she doesn’t really play anything anymore. Her singing voice sounds unused, but she is talented.

Touch: How do they handle contact? Is their personal bubble big?

She has a huge list of acquaintances and connections in relation to her work. She wouldn’t call any of them her friends, but she does know a lot of people and hangs with a lot of them from time to time, especially at banquetts and balls and things like that. She has a handful of real friends.

Upcoming: How much do they think of the future? Do they make long-term plans?

She thinks ahead all the time and prefers to make long term plans!! Can be about work or her personal life. She's able to change directions if an unexpected problem accurs but she always has a goal in mind.

Vice: What bad habits do they have? Is there something they would be ashamed of?

She had to learn patience for almost half her current lifetime, she made a lot of stupid mistakes because she was too rash, disregarding people who need to think longer than her.

Wardrobe: What’s their fashion style? Do they have any staple pieces?

THIS

X-Ray: How’s their health? Any problem areas? Do they take care of themselves?

She takes very good care of herself (and her loved ones!!!!). She also always smells nice and looks top notch.

Yack: What’s their favorite thing to talk about? What do they go on about?

Science............

Zodiac: What’s their astro sign? Does it fit? What would you pick, if it’s unknown? 

I picked Capricorn for her because I thought that would fit the best to her character so, yes it does fit. :D Hard working QUEEN who’s secretly sometimes baby.

[darkwing-katy]

Second Chance - Part Eight

Guys, I’m posting this from my new home in Florida! Whoot-whoot!

Thank you so, so much for your patience with me. My life has gotten incredibly hectic, and it’s taken me a while to be able to update. But it’s finally here, chapter eight of Second Chance! It will be a while before chapter nine comes out since I’ve got to unpack and apply for jobs and get settled in here. Thanks to all who have commented on this fic or messaged me--I still jump for joy when I get a notification that someone’s said something about it! Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters! Special thanks to @sannvers who is busy with band camp and still managed to edit for me.

Title: Second Chance

Pairing: Eventual Gaston x Fem!Reader

Rating: T

Words: 7,466

Summary: You try to stop Gaston from shooting the Beast and falling to his death, but you arrive too late to save him. As you sit there, sobbing, the Enchantress offers you a second chance to save him.

Tagging: @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli@hobbithorse19@leah5684 @princessbelgoof @captainskyline @theoncergames@geeky-girl-394@were-allstoriesinthe-end084 @brooke-supernatural16@certainasthesvn@jordyhaley @superlokidwholock @smilesnjh @prongspower@bitchingqueenoferebor@scarletdarkholme @hemmingbaes @bae-kage @areuslow@lovelylpevensie@uknwwhttheysayboutthecrzy1s @moonbeams-and-pie @17gnomes-in-a-trenchcoat @superwholockedrosx @panda-reads-stuff @ultimatetrashlord@elenawrit@the7thsilence @blackxthexbeast @rainwing-galaxy @arkhamsnight @imoyu-trashblog @martapetrovic @ciaprincess @juggernaut-jones@fangirlx26@fangirlx26 @epicfallenismine @izzymaria1994 @loveablelulu13 @malfoy-milkovich-royalty @kylorenlover15 @banana-cat @withouthannah @stone0502 @shiroyuki18 @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag @lainris @banana-cat @samaxraph99 @honey-badger-dont-give-a@daisiesflower @afairytaledreamer @flufycorn384 @lovelyturtle36 @kairi73 @aerondrage @softbcky @pnchingwalls101 @chalatea @crowleysfavoritehuman @afairytaledream @silverwingedfox @asymmetrical-flower-child @my-whataguythat-gaston @elyza-jeanette @migirl323 @soulgirl518 @betterlattethennever @bonemarrow-writes 

Previous Chapter

“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t let us take a carriage,” Adam grumbled, though he was only half-serious.

“You’re enjoying this just as much as (Y/N) and I are, so stop complaining,” Belle replied, rolling her eyes.

It was a bright morning, with not a cloud in sight. For now, a gentle breeze cooled you, but you knew that come afternoon, it would be quite warm in the direct sunlight. You leaned forward and patted your horse’s neck; you were going at a slow enough pace that you felt comfortable doing such.

The three of you were en route to Villenueve to officially announce the engagement of Prince Adam and Belle, and also to invite the whole town to the wedding celebration. The happy couple had decided they didn’t want to wait too long, so the wedding was to be held in the beginning of August. Today marked the beginning of July, which meant you had a month to plan the festivities.

It was a bit daunting, but considering Adam had dozens of servants, you were fairly certain it could be done. In fact, tonight, you, Belle, and Adam were to have a meeting after dinner to start discussing the details.

You allowed your thoughts to drift to Gaston, whom you’d visited briefly before leaving. He’d been asleep deep enough that your approach hadn’t woken him, and you’d decided to let him continue sleeping. You had left enough food for both breakfast and lunch with him, since you weren’t sure if you would be back at the castle until evening. He hadn’t stirred, not even when you accidentally set the tray down too fast and the plates had clinked together. Macbeth was sitting next to him, a piece of straw marking his place.

Remembering the sight brought a faint smile to your lips, at least, until you thought about his uncharacteristic behavior last night. Your smile faded at the memory of the depressed man who hadn’t even bothered flirting with you. LeFou will have an idea of what to do, I’m sure. Although should I even bother cheering him up? Maybe this is the slap in the face he needs to realize his faults.

“…right, (Y/N)?”

You shook your head and looked at Belle. “What?” you asked.

Belle smiled. “I was just telling Adam about how I thought we should have doves released from behind us once the priest declares us man and wife,” she replied.

You frowned. That didn’t sound like Belle at all. “Really?”

“No!” Belle shook her head at you, her eyebrows creasing as if she was disappointed in you for believing her. “Are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet this morning.”

“I’m fine.” One of her eyebrows raised in doubt. “Really, I am!”

“Did something happen last night?”

“No! Everything is fine!” you insisted. You met Belle’s eyes with your own in the hopes that she would drop the issue. She squinted a little bit, as if trying to peer past your defensiveness, but you met her gaze steadily. You could handle Gaston; she had a whole wedding to plan.

She blew a tuft of air out her nose and turned back to her fiancé, knowing that you were just as stubborn as she was and that if you didn’t want to answer her properly, you weren’t going to. The small victory made you smile internally, though you were careful to not let it show on your face.

Adam must’ve sensed the rising tension, as he suddenly cut in with a, “I think I’ll ask Lumière to be my best man.”

Both you and Belle smiled at him, the momentary tension dropped. “Oh, he’ll enjoy that,” Belle grinned. “He’ll be singing about it for days before and after the wedding, just to annoy Cogsworth.”

Adam winked. “I’m almost counting on it.”

You imagined the tall man you’d met yesterday dancing around the older servant and laughed, catching the prince’s attention.

“Will you be alright dancing with him for a song or two, (Y/N)?” he asked, turning his blue eyes on you. “Plumette won’t mind.”

“Who’s Plumette?” You remembered hearing her name a few other times, but you’d yet to meet the woman.

He thought for a moment before replying. “You’ve seen the Madame and the Maestro, haven’t you?”

You nodded.

“Plumette is Lumière’s love. She’s one of the maids in the castle, and Lumière is utterly devoted to her.” Adam glanced at Belle as he said that, prompting a soft smile from her. You blushed at his words and actions, feeling once more like you were intruding on a private moment between lovers.

“If she’s his lover, then are you certain that she will be okay with us dancing?” you asked slowly.

Both Adam and Belle nodded. “Oh, yes, I’m positive of it,” he affirmed. “But I will say, Lumière is quite the dancer. Are you up for that?”

You and Belle started laughing at the seriousness on his face. He scrunched up his face in confusion. “Your highness, I enjoy dancing,” you said, still laughing. “I just don’t get the opportunity to dance very often.”

A sudden vision played in your mind’s eye: you, in a cream-colored ballgown, surrounded by many, many other couples in similar colors. Maestro Cadenza sitting at his harpsichord, the beautiful Madame de Garderobe next to him, arms outstretched as she sings a marvelous aria. You with Lumière, smiling at each other; the feeling of floating as you glide around the grand ballroom that you so admired. A bow, another spin, a partner switch. You look into green eyes that smirk at you, matching the expression on your new partner’s lips. Firm hands grasp you, one around your waist, the other holding your hand out as you begin a waltz. The rest of the dancers fade away, leaving only you and Gaston and the music. He’s wearing a red vest over his usual ruffled shirt. His hair is perfectly coiffed into its usual ponytail, a red ribbon tying it back. You let him lead you in the steps, fully trusting that he knows what he’s doing.

The vision vanished as quickly as it had appeared, only lasting a few blissful seconds.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have a partner like you,” Adam said, eyes twinkling. You nodded at him, and the conversation turned to food. You paid attention and chimed in when you felt like you had a worthy comment, but for the most part, you let the engaged couple discuss the meal. After all, it was their day.

By the time you all but reached the village, the meal had been decided upon as well as a general idea of decorations. During the last few moments before entering Villenueve, you noticed Adam sitting up even straighter, his casual demeanor still there but somewhat diminished as he made himself more…princely. He looked calm to your eyes as you rode into town, but when Belle put a gentle hand on his arm, you realized he must be nervous. After all, hadn’t you heard yesterday that he’d used to tax the villagers heavily? The poor man probably felt guilty for his pre-curse self’s actions.

A crowd gathered around you three as you went further in. You felt uncomfortable with the amount of attention on you, even though you were certain everyone was watching the royal couple more than you. Why couldn’t we have simply had the town crier announce it? you allowed yourself to wonder as you tried to sit up straighter. It would’ve made this much, much easier.

But you knew part of the reason, at least, was Adam’s guilt. He wanted to show that he was no longer the man who would let a village suffer to pay for his pleasures. He wanted to demonstrate that he was approachable, a prince that they could rely on and trust. It was all an effort to fix his image, although you were also certain that even if the villagers all hated him, he would be content as long as he had Belle’s love.

Would Gaston do the same? He clearly felt some guilt for his actions, based on the conversations you’d had with him. He might not apologize out loud for what he did, but showing remorse counted. Well, in your mind it did, but only because you were sure that his pride would never allow him to fully apologize the way he should. It bothered you, but you shrugged it off. After all, you win some, you lose some.

You scanned the crowd for LeFou but didn’t see him. The three of you continued through the marketplace and stopped at the washing fountain, where you all dismounted. The crowd followed you and stood there, muttering to one another about the reasons why the prince had come to town. Adam sucked in a deep breath as Belle tucked her arm around his. You looked for LeFou again and spotted him in the middle of the villagers, Tom, Dick, and Stanley standing by him. He gave you a small wave that you reciprocated. Suddenly you felt a lot better about everything.

“People of Villenueve, I have a very important announcement to make,” Adam began, his voice silencing the curious murmurs. “I know I haven’t been the best prince in the past, and for that, I am deeply sorry. I promise you, it will never be like that again.” All eyes were on him and Belle. “As part of my amends, I would like to invite you all to a royal ball next month. It’s not just any ball, though.” He looked at Belle, who beamed at him. You heard a couple close to you whispering, but you couldn’t make out their words.

“It will be a ball of celebration—celebration of a curse being broken, celebration of families being reunited, and, most importantly, the celebration of Belle and I’s marriage.”

It felt as if everyone was holding their breath in the seconds that followed his announcement. Then someone began to clap. The lone clapper was soon followed by cheers and shouts and even more clapping as the whole town joined in. Even the Bimbettes and the schoolmaster, who hated Belle, were whooping at the announcement. You grinned; the clapping had started from the part of the crowd you’d seen LeFou in.

You looked back at the engaged couple. Belle was laughing and covering her mouth at the sight before her. You looked closer and saw that her eyes were watering—the town who called her ‘funny’ and practically ostracized her at times was now cheering for her with genuine joy. She didn’t need their acceptance, but you could see that it still meant a lot for her.

You couldn’t deny a perverse sense of pleasure at the scene. You hated it when everyone had made fun of your friend and her kind father (and you, occasionally). Now that she was marrying a prince, they wouldn’t dare speak against her so openly. She wouldn’t have to worry about Maurice being called ‘crazy’ or thrown into an asylum (granted, that was more Gaston’s fault than anyone else’s, but still). She could finally stop worrying about what Villenueve thought of her.

A man—Monsieur Ames, who often sold eggs in the market and flirted with Madame Charee—stepped forward, his arm raised. Adam nodded at him. “Congratulations, your highnesses,” Ames said, bowing to both him and Belle. “I just—did you say we were all invited?”

Belle laughed. “Yes, of course! There’s room for everyone who wants to come,” she replied with a kind smile.

Ames’s dark eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “Thank you, your highnesses! Let me know if you need any eggs!” He bowed again and turned to step back into the crowd.

“Actually, we wanted to let everyone know that you are all welcome to participate in our preparations,” Belle added. “We’ll need help to get everything ready on time.”

All of a sudden, everyone began throwing their arms up with shouts of what they could volunteer to the wedding. Some of it was unnecessary, you knew—Belle was planning on working with Garderobe to design her wedding gown, so she wouldn’t need the seamstresses, and you were fairly certain that Lumière would be insulted if someone not of the castle cooked the meal. But there were many offers to help get the grounds ready, and you knew that would be a task that would require lots of teamwork to get done.

You caught another glimpse of LeFou in the crowd, and this time, he made eye contact with you. The both of you smiled, and he pointed towards the tavern. “Meet there?” he mouthed—or maybe he said it, but it wasn’t like you’d be able to hear him. You gave a nod of affirmation, hoping that he’d understand it might be a while. With a grin, he spun around and headed in that direction.

You sighed. You were eager to talk to him, but first things first. You returned your gaze to Adam and Belle, who were already talking to villagers about what they could do to help. Oh, yes, it was definitely going to be a while.

You slumped down into a chair and let your head slide to the table. Lefou laughed. “Long day?”

“You have no idea,” you mumbled against the rough wood. He laughed again, and you slowly lifted your head up. “And they’re still at it. I have no clue how they do it.” You’d talked to maybe a third of the villagers before eating lunch with Maurice, then you’d left Belle and Adam to continue talking to the villagers on their own while you met LeFou. Their patience and politeness had no end, it seemed.

Then again, Belle would probably say the same about you if she knew the depth of your interactions with Gaston.

Before you could bring up the captain, Stanley, followed closely by Tom and Dick, walked up to your table. He had two mugs in hand, as did Tom (or was it Dick? You never could tell them apart). “Brought you another drink,” he said easily, setting both mugs down. “There’s one for you, too, mademoiselle,” he added, sliding one mug to you.

At first you were confused by his actions, but then you saw that Tom (at least, you’d decided you were calling him Tom) also had two mugs of ale, one of which he gave to Stanley. “Thanks,” you said, grinning at the man. A little beer would be nice right now. I’ve earned it, you thought, grabbing the handle and taking a gulp. The bitter liquid made you splutter; you didn’t drink often, and you were unused to it. The men chuckled at your reaction, but you could tell it wasn’t out of meanness. With watering eyes, you choked down the drink and gave them a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t take such a big gulp,” Dick said helpfully.

“Yeah, good idea,” you muttered, pushing the mug away from your body. After shaking your head, you sat up to better face them all. “So…erm…” Well, this was awkward. How on earth were you supposed to ask LeFou about Gaston with them around? “How are you?”

Great, (Y/N). Engage them in conversation. That’s the way to get LeFou by himself.

“Good,” Tom replied. Dick shrugged in agreement.

Stanley’s eyes flicked to LeFou and back. “Good,” he agreed quietly.

You opened your mouth again, but before you could ask another generic question, LeFou leaned forward and spoke: “We’ve been asking around about Gaston,” he said in a low tone.

You flinched at Gaston’s name. Wait, did he tell them the truth? you wondered, feeling suddenly nervous. You’d trusted the shorter man—surely he wouldn’t betray your trust like that!

“Yeah, LeFou mentioned that you were helping him plan the funeral, so we helped him ask people to attend,” Dick said after taking a gulp of beer.

You felt a wave of relief at his words. LeFou hadn’t told them the truth. The secret was safe (for now, the dark voice in your mind muttered). “How did that go?”

From the looks of the four men in front of you, not well. “It seems that most of the townspeople are still mad about the whole storming the castle and unwittingly leading them to destroy their loved ones,” LeFou explained.

You winced. Well, when you put it that way…I can’t really blame them. “Fair enough. And that’s everyone, you said?”

“Pretty much,” said Tom.

“Except maybe a few,” Stanley indicated the table.

Dick waved a finger. “And a few that are not currently present.”

“Such as Jean and Ames and Stanley’s sisters—” continued Tom.

“Sisters?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You know, the triplets?” Tom looked at you like he was genuinely surprised you didn’t know.

“Wait, the Bimb—the triplets?” you exclaimed in disbelief. You looked at Stanley, who lifted his mug in acknowledgement. “Those girls are your sisters?”

“Yes, they are,” he sighed and took a drink.

Well, there’s something you don’t find out every day. “Well…it’s good that not everyone hates him,” you said, more to yourself than to the rest of the table.

“Not that it matters,” interrupted Dick, “since he’s dead.”

“To Gaston!” declared Tom, who’d somehow almost finished his mug and lifted it up. Dick and Stanley echoed him also raising their mugs for a drink.

You felt warmth creep up your neck at their sadness. You knew it was for the best that they didn’t know of his survival right now, but you still felt guilty that they were mourning their friend.

LeFou sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I need some air,” he mumbled, playing along with the dampened mood. You took that as your cue and stood.

“I’ll come with you. I need to go back to the castle soon, anyway.”

“Will you be alright?” Stanley asked the stout man as he rose from his chair.

LeFou patted Stanley’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.” He smiled at him, and for a moment, you felt like you were missing something between them. You gave yourself a mental shrug, chalking it up to their friendship. After all, you and Belle could sometimes speak without words.

“Goodbye,” you told them, giving a small wave. They all raised their mugs in farewell of you and LeFou, and you both made your way outside.

“Sorry about that,” LeFou said once you’d exited the tavern. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d take, and they’ve been staying close to me ever since Gaston’s…death.” He sighed.

You shook your head. “No, you don’t need to apologize. It’s good that they care enough about you to be concerned.” You automatically started walking towards Belle’s home, but LeFou pointed in a different direction.

“May I?” he asked, clearly having a place for you to talk in mind.

“Of course.”

You walked in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “So, uh…how is our friend?” You could hear his eagerness at news. You felt a soft smile forming on your lips. LeFou truly was a good man.

You sighed, letting the smile drop. “Well, it’s odd,” you began, stepping around a mud puddle, “but he’s…different, I think.”

“Oh?”

“Was he ever depressed with you?”

LeFou stopped in his tracks. “Depressed?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

You nodded. “Yes. Depressed.”

“How so?”

He resumed walking, and you saw that you were going to a part of town you’d never really gone to before. The shops were sparse, instead replaced by a few small homes. Ahead of you was another archway that led out of Villenueve to the woods. Where are we going? “Well, Adam proposed to Belle yesterday evening, and apparently he saw it from the cell, and when I visited him last night, he was, I don’t know…sad. He kept going on and on about how he’d thought Belle was the one for him and how ‘of course, she’d marry him’—‘him’ meaning the prince—and he was much more introspective than I’ve ever seen him.”

The wind blew gently, rustling the leaves of the trees. You caught a glimpse of something in the woods. Is that a house?

“Has he been sleeping?” LeFou asked, almost sharply, like he was more concerned than you’d expected him to be.

“I would assume so,” you replied, frowning as you tried to recall if Gaston had seemed like he was getting enough sleep. “He was when I brought him food this morning.”

LeFou let out a short whoosh of air. “Good,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?” You were now almost certain that you could see a house in the woods. It was close enough to easily walk to and from town, but far enough that it earned a bit of comforting isolation.

“He has a history of not getting enough sleep,” came the shorter man’s hesitant reply.

“What?”

LeFou sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “We were in the war together, you know? We fought and survived, but it was hard on him. He had nightmares about it almost every night for the first few months back.”

“I thought he loved the war? He told me it was glorious and fun.” You could make out the outline of the house and wondered if it was perhaps were LeFou lived.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have nightmares. You can love something and still be afraid of it.”

I suppose.

LeFou continued. “That’s how he was with it. I followed him back here after it ended, and he let me move into his home with him. That’s how I know about the nightmares. That’s also where his mood swings come from, I’m almost positive of it.” He stopped, and you wondered if he was done with his statement. “Did he talk to you about it at all? The war?”

Alright, maybe he wasn’t done. “A little. We were up late one night and he told he about being chased for three days.” That was the first night he asked me to stay.

“That was a hard three days…but he never once lost his grip, you know? He was always in control, always in command, even without sleep.” LeFou’s voice had taken on a wistful tone, like he was mentally reliving those days. “He was amazing.”

You felt yourself blushing at his reverence. You knew that LeFou loved the man, but it almost felt like you were intruding on his memories.  

A comfortable silence fell between you two as you made your way to the small cottage. LeFou, ever the gentleman, opened the door for you and let you enter first. It was a bit dim inside as the sun was slowly setting and most of the windows faced the east rather than the west, but you could make out a few details: there was a black bearskin on the floor, a lavish wooden armchair sitting in front of an unlit fireplace, a simple table with benches, and there were odd shapes on the wall around the fireplace. As you observed your new surroundings, LeFou walked to the other side of the house and pulled back a piece of cloth that covered a few of the west-facing windows, illuminating everything. You saw that the odd shapes were simply animal heads—a buck rested directly above the fireplace, a smaller bear head to the left of it and a boar head to the right.

My God, there’s a lot of antlers here, you thought. Antlers crisscrossed over each other on the mantle, there were antlers hung on the wall, antlers inside a large wooden tub on another table. There was a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling—well, you say chandelier, but it was made of, of course, antlers and probably other bones.

“Yeah, Gaston really loves using antlers in his decorating,” LeFou explained, joining you and offering a cup of water. You took the offered drink and nodded, eyes wide at the overabundance of antlers.

“So I noticed.” There were also furs abound, most likely from all of the animals he’d hunted. There were also a few pillows, some of which had simple embroidery and others which had more elaborate designs. There was a large trunk against one corner of the wall, no doubt filled with more furs and blankets for the cold winters. “Did you make the pillows?”

LeFou scoffed. “I wish. No, those were all done by Gaston’s mother, the Madame Legume.” One in particular caught your eye—a faded red pillow with a black fleur-de-lis encircled by cream deer antlers. It was odd to see a fleur-de-lis here, since they were only for royalty to use in designs. Along the edges of the pillow were cream swirls and lines. “That one’s his favorite, too,” LeFou said quietly, following your line of sight.

“It’s not what I’d have expected from his mother,” you replied. “Did he ever talk to you about her?”

LeFou shrugged and motioned for you to sit in one of the chairs. “Not really,” he said, taking a seat next to you. “He doesn’t like talking about his family.”

“He told me his mother died in childbirth and that his father was a hunter, but that was about it. I got the impression that he and the Monsieur Legume didn’t get along.” You set your cup on the table and leaned back against the chair.

“I’m surprised he even told you that much.” The shorter man leaned back as well, his fingers dancing across the armrests. “He told me bits and pieces of his childhood when I served under him, usually when he was drunk. Then, when we came here and he invited me to move in with him, he revealed a little more.” He exhaled deeply and glanced at you. “I think his father blamed him for the death of his mother. A few times when he got really, really drunk, he rambled about never being good enough, never living up to her. For a while I thought he meant a woman that he’d loved and lost somehow, but then I realized it was his mother.”

You sat in silence, absorbing all of this information as he spoke. That sounds horrible. At least Papa never said anything of the sort to me.

“I think that’s why he’s so…himself, you know? He always wants attention because he never got it from someone he cared about.”

“He’s still trying to prove himself,” you murmured, not intending to interrupt LeFou but doing it nonetheless.

His brow furrowed. “What was that?”

You pursed your lips, trying to find the right words before elaborating. “If his father always told him he wasn’t good enough, maybe he was constantly doing things in order to prove himself. That’s why he became the best hunter. That’s why he joined the war. It might even be why he protected the town from those invaders years ago. He’s got a hero complex, but it’s not borne out of narcissism, however he may act like it is. It’s out of a desire to show that he is good enough.” And that in itself is sad. It doesn’t excuse his actions, but it explains them. All of the pieces of the puzzle that was Gaston were slowly falling into place the more you learned about him.

You could almost picture a young Gaston trying to earn his father’s favor by rallying up the villagers against the Portuguese. Afterwards, he might’ve gone up to the elder Legume and announced that he’d defended Villenueve, and the older man would’ve ‘hmmph’ed in response. So what could he do? A few years later, when the war presents the ultimate opportunity to prove his worth, naturally, he would join.

He said his father died during the war, though. So that means he must’ve come home, ready and eager to be commended at last for his status as Captain, and learned that he was dead, along with any chance of redeeming himself in his father’s eyes. Merde, that’s awful.

You suddenly wanted to embrace Gaston, and unlike previously, it wasn’t due to your crush. You sympathized with him.

“You said no one seems too upset about his ‘death’, right?” you asked, frowning.

LeFou shook his head. “Most of the villagers are still angry at him.”

You sighed. “Can’t say I blame them. He was horrible that night.” You sank your head into your hands. “What are we going to do? How are we going to let everyone know he’s still alive if they hate him?”

“If we could convince everyone else to give him a second chance, then the wedding would be a perfect time to announce his survival.”

“But what good will it do if everyone decides to riot against him?”

“Would they?”

“I don’t know!” You lifted your head and slammed your arms against the table. “Maybe that’s a worst-case scenario, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t make a difference because I’m going to have to tell him that the people he wanted to adore him actually despise him!”

LeFou winced at your violent reaction. “That’s not gonna be fun at all,” he muttered.

“No, it’s not!” You inhaled and exhaled, trying to expel your frustration. It didn’t work, and you looked at a window to calm yourself down.

The sun had begun its descent, giving the outside a gold hue. You’d spent more time here than you’d meant to, and now you had to go back to the castle to give Gaston dinner. And possibly tell him about how many people hated him. And then plan a wedding.

“You seem frustrated. Are you okay, (Y/N)?” LeFou asked, concerned.

You considered faking a smile, then realized that he was too shrewd to let that fool him. “No,” you admitted. “It’s just…sometimes it’s hard, doing all this.” You returned your eyes to him, secretly appreciating the way he was leaning forwards, showing his genuinely concern for you. “It helps that you and Belle and the Prince know, but there’s just all this responsibility on me to take care of him and I wouldn’t change it for the world (Use it wisely echoed Agathe’s voice in your mind, conjuring up a mental picture of golden haze) but sometimes it’s just so damn hard.” Your voice cracked at the end of your rant, and you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Take deep breaths,” LeFou said gently, using his hands to illustrate inhaling and exhaling. You followed his movements, breathing in and out for a few minutes until you felt better. Once you let out a deep sigh, he took your hand in his. “It’s going to be alright, (Y/N). You did a good thing, and you did it for the right reasons. That doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy, but if you can convince an Enchantress to turn back time, then I think you can handle this.” He grinned at you. “You’re strong and smart, and if anyone can figure this out, it’s you. And I mean, I’ll help. And so will Belle!”

You felt yourself smiling at him, and this time, it wasn’t forced. “Thanks, LeFou. You’re amazing, you know?”

He laughed. “I try.”

You laughed, too, and sighed again. “I need to go. But thank you for everything—you’re right, we’ll figure this out.” You scooted your chair back and stood, stretching. “I’ll see you around, okay? And you’re always welcome to come to the castle and visit, even if you don’t want to visit him yet.”

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

You waved goodbye to him and opened the door. The outside air was still warm, but it was pleasant. Perfect weather for a slow evening ride back to the castle.

If you rode slowly enough, you could use the time to mull on your conversation with LeFou. He’d given you a lot to think about.

You took your time going up the steps to the cell. Not because you were reluctant—rather, you were eager to see Gaston—but because you were still mulling. You felt certain in your conclusions about the captain; they made a lot of sense in regards to his personality and actions.

I don’t know if I could ever ask him, though. Would he even trust me with that kind of intimate knowledge? He only told LeFou when he was drunk, and LeFou’s his best friend. Still…I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like growing up. No wonder he craved attention from the villagers.

Gaston didn’t acknowledge you when you entered the cell. He was once again leaning against the wall of the open door, but he didn’t ooze charisma the way he normally did. If anything, you felt as if he was angry: his entire body seemed stiff, and when you walked over to be across from him, you saw his mouth twitch.

“I see you’ve finally deigned to visit. Apparently I’m not worthy of your presence anymore,” he said, venom lacing his words.

You flinched at the harshness of his tone. Where the hell is this coming from? “I’m sorry?” was all you could think to say as you slid down the wall to the ground.

He let loose a sardonic chuckle. “It’s been a whole day, a whole day of me sitting in this godforsaken prison, with naught to keep me company save for this book.” He picked up the copy of MacBeth and waved it at you before throwing it across the cell. You flinched again. “What am I to you, (Y/N)? A pet? A toy? Someone to talk to at your own whims when you don’t feel like talking to Belle?”

You frowned. This was a much different Gaston than you’d seen last night. Last night he’d been quiet, melancholy. Tonight, he was on the offensive, attacking you viciously with words.

Your lack of response only spurred him on. “Nothing to say? Of course. You only care about conversation when you’re in control of it.” He sneered at you. “Typical.”

All of your confusion suddenly flared into anger. “Excuse me? That’s not the case at all! You steer the conversation just as much as I do!”

“Is that what you think? I know how you work. You lure me with acts of concern and compassion—you pretend to care about my injuries, then you act as if we’re friends, and then you vanish!”

“Gaston!” you exclaimed, feeling heat surge up your cheeks and down your neck. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He slammed his hand onto the floor, making you jump. “Don’t try to deny it, woman,” he growled.

You blinked, then felt your own face form into a snarl. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight? Why are you acting like this?” Without thinking about it, you stood, needing to be taller than him.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you actually care!” he scoffed, jumping to his feet as well.

“I do care!”

“And why would you?” he shouted, gesturing to himself. “Why would you care about me?”

You threw your arms up in disbelief. “Because that’s what friends do! They care about each other! They express concern when one of them is acting like an ass!”

“We are not friends, (Y/N).”

Those five words cut into your heart, as did his green eyes, glaring at you. You tried to think of something to say, anything at all that could hurt him as much as he’d just now hurt you. Nothing came to mind, leaving you standing there, fuming. As you stood there, mouth agape, you began to notice things about Gaston: the dark bruises under his eyes, the way his hair had gotten unusually tangled, the fact that he seemed almost jittery as he glared at you; his fingers twitched against his legs, and he was swaying where he stood. It was barely noticeable, but it was there.

Something’s wrong.

As upset as you still were, you forced yourself to swallow your anger. “Gaston, what is wrong?” you asked softly, hoping that maybe a quieter tone would calm him down. “You haven’t been yourself since last night.” Instinct told you to take a slow step towards him, so you did. “I just want to know why.”

His eyes darted from your face to your feet and back to your face, but he didn’t say anything.

You continued. “Even if you don’t think of me as a friend, I think of you as one. And as your friend, I’m worried about you.”

Gaston wouldn’t look at you. He stood there, no longer glaring, but his fingers were still dancing along his calves. They alternated between tapping and curling up on themselves, almost as if he was making a fist and then abruptly deciding not to. “We’re not friends,” he repeated, this time in a low voice that lacked the previous harshness.

“Yes, we are,” you replied. You cautiously reached for his arm. When your hand grazed him, he flinched, but he made no move to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

He tossed his head, but it was slow. Finally, he sighed. “I’m tired.”

You gently tugged down on his arm. He followed your cue and sat, with you sitting next to him. It was as if the fight had disappeared from him. “Why are you tired?”

“Because I haven’t slept,” he mumbled.

“What?” you couldn’t help but demand. He leaned his head back against the stone wall. “But you were sleeping this morning!”

“I was trying to sleep, but it wasn’t working.” Gaston sighed and placed his hands in his lap. “I couldn’t do it.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

He sighed again. “Nightmares.”

You felt the minnow of fear swim into your stomach. LeFou had mentioned this. “How long have you been having them?”

“Since the night I told you about the war.”

The minnow doubled in size and you realized just how long ago that had been. “Gaston, that was three nights ago. Are you saying you haven’t slept in three days?”

He grimaced. “That sounds about right. Feels longer, though, but that might just be me.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He hesitated, then sighed again. “Can you just…stay and talk?” He sounded so defeated, so vulnerable. And he was looking at you with those eyes, pleading with you to just stay with him.

How could you refuse? “Of course,” you whispered. He patted your thigh, but it didn’t feel like he was trying to flirt. It felt like camaraderie, like he was relieved that you weren’t leaving him yet again. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything,” he muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back once more. “Just hearing another voice helps.”

“Alright. Well…once, when I was about six or seven, my cousin Amèlie convinced me to sneak into her stables and ride my aunt’s horse bareback. I’d never ridden a horse before, so you can imagine how well that went.” You didn’t know where to go from there; it felt too stiff of a conversation. “Umm…I used to love pretending I was a pirate queen. My father didn’t think it appropriate for a good Christian girl, but my mother would indulge my imagination. She would find sticks or brooms and we would pretend they were swords clanging together.” This story felt a little less awkward. “Sometimes she would hide things around the house and make a little map for me. It wasn’t anything too difficult, of course. At first they were drawings that told me where to go. Then, when I began learning to read, she would write destinations that I could sound out. As I got older, she began writing little clues that I’d have to solve, and while I would search through the house Papa would sit at the table and watch. Sometimes he would roll his eyes, sometimes he would smile.” You grinned at the memories of the game. “Once or twice, Mama managed to convince him to play along. He would be the King, kidnapped by some nefarious enemies, and I, the Pirate Queen, would be the only one who dared to save him.” You paused for a moment before continuing. “I guess it didn’t occur to me that had a pirate actually rescued the King, then she would still be hanged, regardless of her good deeds.”

Gaston snorted, and you took that to be a good sign.

“Mama is the one I got my imagination from. She always wanted to be a writer, but that’s not something that her parents thought proper, so she was never allowed to publish. Nor would she be able to, if she’d been allowed, I don’t think. I think I told you that she taught me to read. ‘Reading is living a thousand other lives,’ she once told me. ‘Lives that you’d never be able to experience any other way.’ Her favorite book is The Adventures of Arabella, which she gave to me before I moved here. It’s my favorite, too.”

“I see.”

As you continued to share tales of your life, you noticed that Gaston made fewer and fewer noises to indicate that he was listening, although he did eat some of the food you’d brought. It seemed that having someone to listen to was exactly what he needed in order to relax. You wondered if LeFou had done this for him before—stayed up late just talking.

A thought occurred to you as you ended your latest story. “Gaston?” you asked.

“Mmm?”

“You threw a dagger at me yesterday afternoon.”

“Yes?”

“You told me you haven’t slept in three nights, correct?”

“I suppose.”

“You threw a dagger at me when you hadn’t slept in two days?”

He flashed you a grin, that grin you felt like you hadn’t seen in days, and shrugged. “I never miss my target. I should think you should be impressed.”

“Impressed? How about I stay awake for two days and throw a sharp, pointy thing at you? Then we’ll see who’s impressed!”

You gave him a light punch to the shoulder, which earned an exaggerated ‘Ow’ from the man, but both of you were smiling. “I could teach you, if you want,” he offered.

“Deal.”

Then he did something unexpected: he leaned his head on your shoulder. You blushed at the action, although you knew he was doing more because he was so tired than for any other reason. Or so you think. Maybe it’s because he wants a pillow, maybe it’s because he likes you, that taunting voice whispered in your head.

“You can keep talking,” he mumbled.

You leaned your head forward a bit to see that he’d closed his eyes again. “How about I read?”

“Mmm.”

You took that to be his approval, so you shifted forwards to reach for the book. Your movement made him lift his head (was he pouting or were you imagining that?), but the moment you’d grabbed the book and sat back against the wall, he replaced it. You smiled to yourself and opened the book to where he’d marked his last stopping point.

“Scene six. Forres. The palace. Enter Lennox and another lord. Lennox speaks: ‘My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, which can interpret further, only, I say, things have been strangely borne…”

As you read aloud to Gaston, you yourself started to feel a little tired. But you’d promised that you would stay, so you ignored your own feelings and kept reading. By the time Lady MacDuff and her son had encountered the murderers looking for Lord MacDuff, Gaston was snoring softly. You yawned; it had been a few hours since you’d come up, and now it was late at night.

You glanced at the sleeping Gaston, his head still resting on your shoulder. In order to make himself more comfortable while you read, he’d scooted closer so that your shoulders were touching. His body radiated warmth in the coolness of the cell, and you were glad of it. The blanket was crumpled up within arm’s length of you, so you grabbed it and spread it across both yours and his legs. Then you marked where you thought he’d fallen asleep at and continued reading the book to yourself. Without realizing it, you felt yourself drifting off, the words on the pages blurring together so that you had to reread a few sentences over and over again.

Malcolm: Well, more anon—comes the King forth, I pray you?

Doctor: Ay, sir, there are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure: their malady convinces The great assay of art; but at his touch— Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand They presently amend

…they presently amend…

…they presently…

…amend….

[stgiuseppe]

annual writing self-eval ‘16

nobody tagged me to do this but i will do it anyway !! i love 2 be introspective and talk about myself ! 

1. List of works published this year:

fifty kisses, O, listen, i sing the body electric, stop! (wait a minute), and my tryhard tshaw not-fic

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

mmm this is difficult cos i guess im equally proud of all six, although for different reasons . i suppose if i had to pic it’d be O cos i remember having a lot of fun writing it and it turned out to be almost thrice the length i thought it’d be and that made me very pleased 

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

i sing the body electric cos i had so many plans for it but then i abandoned it before putting out the last part and now it’s just sat there on my ao3 (and nominated for two awards despite being incomplete? what ?) like a reminder of past mistakes. rip 

4. A favourite excerpt of your writing:

uhhh this bit from stop! wait a minute

“Oh,” says Harry wistfully, who is now looking at the ceiling too. “There you are, I was wondering… well. Hello there. I like your eyes.”

“Thank you,” says the writer carefully, and then to Louis: “What’s wrong with the word ‘erotic’?”

not because i am particularly proud of what can only be described as an embarrassing debacle of boredom and self-insertion, but because sometimes when i’m having a bad day i think of harry feeling bad for a struggling fic writer and telling them they have nice eyes, and it makes me laugh 

5. Share or describe a favourite review you received:

every review i receive feels like an amalgamation of a bonfire, christmas sweaters, and caramel scented candles . but what comes to mind right now are the two lovely comments that a certain tumblr/ao3 user left on my only two 1d fics. they were so sensitive to what i was really trying to say with my fics, and worded their reviews so kindly, that i’m sure i cried several times reading them. we are now mutuals :~~ )

6. A time when writing was really, really hard

hmm the last few months of the year, no doubt, cos of my exams and also my very rapidly dwindling mental health and energy 

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you

this isnt really from the fics i listed in the beginning, but i had this concept of a zayn/grimmy fic in my head for a short while that i love to revisit from time to time for purely self-indulgent reasons, and in that i had this one scene where zayn was winding himself up too much and nick helped him snap out of it and give himself a break, and it was so uncharacteristic of nick in that verse to behave in that way that it threw me off the pairing completely

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

difficult to pinpoint how i grew but, looking back, i feel more confident in my writing cos it’s really evident that something’s changed, like. this time last year (as in january 2016 i guess) you’d never catch me admitting to be proud of anything that i’ve written, but now i’m in this place where i can admit that without feeling like an absolute douche, so . irl character development folks 

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

i have no plans man long as i keep writing keep churning out grand after grand of words, im good 

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

sunsetmog on ao3 / @magicalrocketships has been for years a source of inspiration when it comes to writing, and especially this year i found great comfort in their blog and especially their rabbit!louis tag

also ymorton on ao3 / @ihavea1dbloghelp i cant exactly explain why i love your fic but goddd do i love it so much, the bits and pieces that you churn out from time to time and post sporadically so we can only find it if we’re looking, it makes the little snippets you write feel precious somehow. and i love the way you write people in a way nobody else has really dreamed of writing. not 2 b dramatic but it’s really changed the way i look at fiction 

also kate @pnkrcker who is always there to talk to me about the state of fic in various fandoms and how it’s been improving/declining, what it needs more of and what it needs less of, etc etc . thank you for taking me seriously and listening to me rambling. often times i find myself texting you about fic just so i can get back in the mood to write. you’re a legend <3 

and @iridescentxj whom i subjected the worst of my nick/everyone not-fics to. thank u for putting up with me my love !!!! one day i will write a proper nick/someone fic with a proper ending . i promise. (?)

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

noo i dont think so lmao. as of now i’m in the business of keeping my fiction fictional !  

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

one of my favourite fics this year has been one without a proper ending OR a timeline, so i guess i learnt not to sweat the small stuff and jsut write the bits u wanna write cos i bet there’s someone out there reading and loving it anyway 

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

mmmMm i want to get a poems book self-published lol let’s see . maybe i’ll finish my tomlinshaw fic after two years of letting it fester in my head, wouldnt that be somethin! 

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. ;)

@ihavea1dbloghelp @magicalrocketships aand @pnkrcker i guess! y’all arent obliged etc etc x