Summary: Y/N was once an employee at Prince Adams castle along with being his childhood friend but she doesn’t remember. Caught up in the curse, she ends up in Villeneuve where she stands out. But circumstances arrive and she somehow returns to the place she once called home, and a beast she once thought a friend. A multi-chapter fanfiction.
Authors Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. Please tell me where I can improve (in a nice way) and I hope you enjoy. I will try and update every week. Also REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Anything to distract me from exams.
Chapter 1: Prologue You were walking, well more realistically sprinting, up the servant’s stairwell, avoiding several maids holding trays of several different types of alcoholic beverages. You had successfully avoided at least ten maids before you went crashing into one head first, involving several orange drinks falling on you, leaving you soaking wet and your white top now spotted orange. The maid simply looked at you in disgust before deliberately pushing you into the wall whilst she quickly picked up the shattered glass. This in turn caused a pile up of at least five maids and they all looked at you with disapproving looks. You were used to them at this point. Most of the maids despised you due to your outward appearance. Mrs Potts had told you on several occasions that you were beautiful and many of the maids envied you for it (that and your supposed strange taste in fashion, but you couldn’t help it if pants were far more practical than skirts). You, had never thought of yourself as beautiful. You were just you, plain and simple and that’s how you liked it. There was also the factor that you actually enjoyed reading. Many of the maids thought it a useless skill but you loved the places a book could take you. You’d visited the great sands of Africa and the jungles of Peru but your favourite place to visit was Verona in Italy. It made you feel at home away from the real world. Back when the Prince’s mother was alive you’d sneak into the library and sit behind the curtains and get lost for several hours before your father found you. Those times don’t occur anymore. You’d been found by the Prince’s father, and the bruises stayed on you for several weeks.
You shook your head to rid yourself of the memory. The group of maids bar one had hurried down the stairs. You looked up to see that it was Plumette who remained. You breathed a sigh of relief. Not only was she the head maid but she was basically an older sister to you, just like you were to Chip. She looked at you eyebrows raised “Would you care to explain what happened Y/N, or do I not want to know?” she said whilst gesturing to your shirt with her feather duster. You lifted up your tool box before saying “Lord Dustin’s daughter’s clockwork doll has broken.” She looked at you, eyes wide (she knew how difficult she could be) before giving you a small nod and rushing down the steps to return to help prepping for the ball that was to take place in two hours. Ugh, the ball. Another stupid dance where the Prince could show of how rich he was.
You were so deep into your thoughts that you hadn’t realised you were now walking along the corridor of the palace where actual lords and ladies could see you. You gripped your toolbox tighter whilst avoiding eye contact with any of the noblewomen that came past. You could hear behind closed doors several young women fussing about their looks clearly trying to impress the Prince. “Why? He’s nothing special.” You whispered aloud, a scowl etched upon your face. “Ahoy there sailor. What’s got you under the weather?” You turned to see your father hurrying up behind you whilst gripping dearly onto an easel, canvas and his bag full of paints and brushes. “Oh it’s nothing Papa,” you say with a smile, “just a broken doll of the pickiest guest.” He winces, “Lord Dustin’s daughter?” “Yup. It’ll be my first with her, and her reputation makes me nervous.” He pats you on the head, “Don’t worry, you’re the best tinkerer I know, she’ll be lucky to have you repair anything of hers.” You blush and look down at your feet before looking up at him again, a puzzled expression on your face, “Where are you off to now? I didn’t know you had a new piece to work on.” “Well I didn’t, until two hours ago.” He lets out a deep sigh, “The Prince has commissioned a piece depicting the ball tonight.” “Oh,” you let out almost accidentally but you can’t hide your disappointment. You were looking forward to having a few moments with your father tonight while the rest of the castle were occupied. “Don’t worry I’ll try and be finished before dawn.” He looked down at the wrist clock you made for him only three weeks ago. He kissed you on the forehead before quickly rushing off down the hall towards the ballroom but not before he told you that he loved you. “I love you too.” You said to a now empty corridor. You shook your head and once again begin to rush towards the Lady’s allocated room. When you skidded to a halt outside the large, ornate door, you took a moment to smooth out your shirt and pants (whilst desperately trying to rid them of the orange stains). You tucked a piece of your damp hair back under your headband before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.
You had to wait several moments before a thin looking woman in her mid-twenties opened the door. She looked at you questionably, before a high pitched voice from inside the room spoke up. “Just let them in. I’m in a rush.” The lady in waiting opened the door to let you through and you gave her a pleasant smile which she returned subtly before rushing to help Lady Helen Dustin place her wig on her head. The wig was far too ornate for your liking with its several unnecessary jewels that were strewn everywhere. You were certain that the wig was far too tall to fit through a doorway. How she was to dance was a mystery to you. “May I help you? I don’t remember asking for cross dresser to appear in my room. That’s more Lady Emilié’s taste.” she said whilst looking in the mirror, placing far too much rouge on her cheeks. “Forgive me my lady, but I’m Y/N, the Royal engineer if it were, and I believe you wished for me to fix your doll.” you say, the poison, hopefully very clear. Her mouth fell agape for a brief moment before signalling to the table at the end of the bed, without looking away from her reflection. You walked over to the table and place your tool box next to what is quite simply the most beautiful doll you have ever seen. You went to get your tweezers before a loud squeak stops you. The Lady Helen looked at you, appalled, “What on earth do you think you are doing?” You looked up at her confused. “Fixing your doll, my lady.” “Not here!” she practically screamed at you, “Down where you people breed.” You looked at her, holding her gaze before closing your tool box and picking up the China doll. “As you wish, my lady,” you mumbled before walking to the door. You turned back and looked at her once more, “Before I leave, my lady, please might you tell me what is wrong with the doll and what the desired result is to be.” She looked at you in horror before turning back to the mirror and saying “The arm is stuck. It’s meant to move.” You nod, curtsy and leave but not before you hear her say to her lady in waiting “I had no idea they hired such strange people in this place.” Their laughter follows you down the corridor.
Back in your workshop/bedroom you were admiring the doll. It truly was a marvel. The outside was delicate china, but the inside was a complex machine. A maze of copper cogs. It was beautiful. You had found the problem with the arm joint almost immediately, a loose screw had caused a cog to become bent, preventing it from turning. It was easily fixed and at this point, exactly half an hour before the ball was to commence, you were simply sketching the insides in detail so that you one day might be able to replicate it. You were so entangled in your work that you didn’t see the figure standing in the doorway until they coughed, loudly. You looked up abruptly to see the Prince standing there, his face covered in a ridiculous amount of make-up. You preferred him without it, if you had to choose. You stand up and fall into an awkward curtsy. “Your highness.” You mumbled out not looking him in the eye. He just smirked at you before smugly saying “You have charcoal on your face right there.” He gestured to his own nose. “And I believe you have something all over your face too.” You pointed out with delight, whilst dramatically waving a hand all over your face. His smile dropped and immediately turned into a scowl. “You can’t speak to me like that.” “Oh, of course. Where are my manners. You have something hideous on your face too, your highness,” you said while taking a ridiculously over the top curtsy. When you stand you look at him pleased that his eyebrows were furrowed with rage. “And why aren’t you,” you jabbed a finger at him, “upstairs getting ready for yet another one of your balls?” His scowl disappeared and was once again replaced by a smirk. “Well, I was in the process of doing so,” he gestured dramatically at his attire, “with the assistance of Cogsworth, but I was ever so rudely interrupted by a certain maid complaining about a supposed Royal engineer.” “And you came down to tell me what?” you asked, eyebrows raised, “that I was too hostile?” “Precisely.” He practically snorted out. “Oh dear.” You said feigning embarrassment, “I was trying so hard to hide it.” “You know, I should fire you.” He stated, “After all, you don’t do much. But your silly father is the best artist for miles to come so I guess I’m stuck with you.” Your blood boiled at his comment about your father. “Don’t you dare speak of my father that way!” You practically yelled at him. He let out a rather large chuckle. “Relax Y/N, I’m joking.” “Well, I don’t find it funny.” You let out, your tongue dripping with hostility. “It was rather funny. You should note that you look like a tomato, you’ve gone so red.” The Prince was beside himself. “Why don’t you go back upstairs where everyone wishes to throw themselves at you?” With that comment you went back to your desk at picked up your pad. “Your highness” you mutter. “Honestly Y/N enough with the formalities. You know you may call me by my name. One of the few I allow.” He stood in the doorway, for once actually looking like he could be kind. You simply glared at him and said in the most monotone voice you could muster, “I’ll call you by your name when you start acting like my friend that I knew and less like your father.” Your comment had its desired effect. The Prince turned immediately away from you and stormed away from your workshop. Satisfied, you looked back down at your sketch pad and once again begin to draw.
It was only a few moments later that you looked up to stare out the small window above your bed. You simply stared before your eyebrows knitted together with concern. A large storm was roaring outside but that was not what concerned you. What concerned you was there was someone outside in it. You stood up and rushed into the corridor and towards the back door of the servant’s quarters. Once outside, you were hit by a large wall of rain but you continued running till you reached the figure. You helped guide them through the rain towards the castle door. After pushing against the wind for several minutes you reached the door, where you hastily bustled the figure inside. Soaking wet, you finally looked properly at the figure to see that it was a beautiful lady in a green velvet dress and with luscious golden curls. She smiled at you as you directed her towards your room. She was somehow miraculously dry, unlike yourself. You were about to let her into your room where she grabbed your arm rather harshly. She looked at you, her green eyes seemingly glowing before stating, “You must leave this castle. Tonight. Gather what you need and leave for the nearest village.” You were confused as to why you had to leave but the longer you stared into the strange ladies eyes the more convinced you were of the idea of leaving. You nodded at her silently as she let go of your arm. She began to walk away and you went back into your room to begin packing what you would need, but you swore you saw her age rapidly as she began to climb the stairs at the end of the hall. In your room, you packed away your tools into your toolbox. You packed clothes into your traveling bag and placed your pad, art supplies, your only three books and your trusted tools in it as well. You put on your leather gloves and cloak ready to face the rain storm. Before you left your room you took one last look around and took the clockwork doll into your hands admiring its intricacies. With that you left.
You were walking towards the castle gates, down the large carriage path in the gardens. You looked back at the castle to see a large and strange glow coming from the ballroom. Another part of the Prince’s entertainment you thought to yourself. It was not until you heard the screams did you turn around once again and stop walking. The sound was coming from the ballroom. “Papa!” You thought out loud. You began to scold yourself. Here you were planning on running away, for a reason you couldn’t remember and you forgot to bring Papa with you. You even forgot to tell him you were leaving. You took about five steps back towards the castle when the first carriage came charging towards you. You leapt to the side just in time. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you see that all of the guest carriages were barrelling down the path. As you stood there at the side of the path desperately trying to avoid being squashed by any of the carriages, you caught a glimpse inside one to see Lady Dustin. The fear etched in her face was something to behold. She looked back at the castle, terror gripping her. Her blue eyes briefly met your E/C ones and the message they sent was clear. Run. You thought of your Papa, how you couldn’t leave him, but every carriage was filled with noblewomen all with the same fear etched upon their faces. You were about to head back towards the castle when a bright, blinding light erupted from the ballroom windows, illuminating the entire gardens and sending an ice cold wind billowing into your face. You were knocked backwards by the strong wind, struggling to stay upwards. When the light dimmed you saw that rain storm that was occurring had now turned into a heavy snowfall. You looked around in both fear and awe. It was June. It never snows in June, at least not here. You stared up at the sky, at the flakes that were slowly settling around you. Then you heard it. An ear splitting roar. A roar of an animal in pain. That was it. What made you run. You ran as hard as you could towards the gates. You glanced back at the castle, where the roar was coming from, and saw a yellow flash. The flash seemed to linger before seemingly forming a glowing barrier that was spreading outwards from the castle. Whatever that glow was, you didn’t want to find out. You ran faster. Faster than you had ever ran before, your father a distance memory. The barrier was charging towards you as you reached the gate. You fumbled trying to pull them open. As they opened, the glow was nearly upon you. You ran through the opening and was pulling the gate shut with your left hand when the glow engulfed it up to your elbow. Your left hand went numb and you closed your eyes prepared for the worst. It never came. The golden glow seemed to have stopped at the castle’s perimeter and was slowly stretching upwards forming a glowing dome. You looked up in awe when you felt a sharp pain in your left arm. You stumbled backwards, tearing your eyes away from the magical dome. You forcefully removed your glove to see your hand slowly become paler and smoother. Your hand was becoming heavier and more rigid with each passing second. You looked away in horror. You grabbed your glove and ran from the castle as fast as you could, hoping that the further you got away from that cursed place, the better you’d feel. You practically sprinted through the woods putting a good distance between you at your former home. After roughly ten minutes of running, sweating and tripping over several roots, your body was begging for a small rest. You sat down under a fairly large tree, wrapping your cloak tightly around you (despite the fact it was no longer snowing). There was still a tingling feeling in your left hand. You cautiously remove your glove once again and you had to stifle a scream. Your hand was made of china, exactly like doll you were fixing for…. for… You couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t you remember? You had just been there in…. Wait where were you? You clutched your head, why were you forgetting things that just happened. ‘Maybe,’ you thought 'I’m just a little dizzy and tired from running so hard for so long.’ You decided to stay under the tree and try and get your breathing even. You looked around the woods to just see darkness surrounding you. Your head was beginning to throb now, along with your China hand. How long had you had that china hand again? As the throbbing became all you could feel, you felt your eye lids beginning to drop. Black spots appeared in your vision and you fought the urge to regurgitate your last meal. As you slipped into unconsciousness, you fought with every bone in your body to remember your Papa. You weren’t going to stop fighting to remember. As you slumped back against the tree, in a restless sleep, the woman you helped into the castle simply smiled. She knew you were strong. With that she disappeared back into the forest, walking back towards the nearest village where you’d arrive the next afternoon, so she could watch her story unfold.
summary: It was at the end of the in day, at the end of baking lemon cakes, when she began to move past her rose-tinted infatuation, and into something much brighter. a/n: … Okay, I’ll admit that this was mainly written because I really do miss my school’s cookery classes. I took it as a final subject to get a qualification out of, and I loved it. …Even if I did make a plate shatter into a casserole… we don’t speak of that. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!
Autumn had taken her paintbrush, and swept it across the entire horizon. Splatters of red and yellow had engulfed the green lands of summer, made the air more crisp, and sent a pleasant chill up Marinette spine whenever she took a step outside.
She adored this season. Pumpkin-spiced lattes, cute coats and hats, and the glorious sunset that made it look like the sky was on fire… everything to her was worth drawing, worth writing down to remember. Everyone could have their summers and springs, but she was fine with the crisp air of Autumn.
Marinette sighed as she looked at the picture-perfect outdoors, and turned back to sifting the flour into the bowl.
At what point in the series do you think Brian fell in love with Justin and when do you think Brian realized he was in love?
Oh, Nonny. You had to go there. After I showed such remarkable restraint on my last ask, you had to ask the question guaranteed to make me ramble on for a century with all my thoughts, feelings, and theories. Very well. You asked for it. :D
Now, this is a really interesting question to think about and actually somewhat challenging to answer, because Brian genuinely didn’t believe in love. He couldn’t even conceptualize it. So while he may have been feeling all these emotions toward Justin that people generally associate with falling in love, Brian himself wouldn’t have recognized it as love even if it bit him on the ass (which, come to think of it, I’m sure Justin did).
My short answer is this: I think the first time we witnessed a true spark of love from Brian was during 1x07, and it built steadily all throughout the first season, and by the end of 1x17 he was absolutely in love. Now, that’s not to say he always accepted those feelings, or acted in a way that somebody generally would when they’re in love, because, come on, he’s Brian Kinney. As for when he actually realized it? I’d place it at prom, and one specific instance at prom, but I’m going to put that below the cut because believe me, I will ramble. However, we all know what happens at prom, and following those events, Brian tried to drown out the idea of being in love from his mind, mainly with drugs, liquor, and plenty of sex. But by the end of 2x02, I believe we’ve reached the point where Brian can’t deny to himself that he’s in love with Justin, even if he won’t use those exact words.
So, that’s the short answer. If you want the long answer, complete with pictures and a nearly episode by episode description of Brian falling in love with the incredible Justin Taylor, let’s hop along under the cut.
ugh guys this is the photo that rick picked up when deadshot threw the binder at him demanding an explanation and omg what is happening here like did rick just swoop in and give her a hug from behind whilst she was doing her thang #WHEREARETHEY what is happening why i need this in mah lifeeeeee