#lefoc

@lefoc

Gaston had been surprised when his eyes opened and he was fine. He had remembered falling, remembered hitting the ground… The hunter tried to catch his breath, to stop the panic that was brewing in his chest. A hand came to cover his mouth as he started to breathe far too quickly. Lefou’s voice came to mind as he squeezed his eyes shut. Deep breaths, Gaston. He was shaking, trying so hard not let a single tear even threaten to form.

He was afraid to move more, what if his legs were broken? What if he was crippled by the fall? He looked up at the bridge, surprised to see it fixed. More than that, surprised to see just how familiar it looked… Then it came back, the castle, the Prince. How had they all forgotten? Slowly, Gaston sat up and began to check if anything was indeed broken. How he survived the fall unscathed amazed him, but he was not about to question it. Standing and brushing himself off, Gaston cleared his throat. Now to find Lefou…

Lefou. Guilt washed over the hunter for leaving his friend under that harpsichord. The one person who had been by his side through everything, left to fend for himself because Gaston was afraid that Belle was telling the truth about the Beast being kind. Looking around, Gaston started to find his way through the labyrinth like garden. He had to pause for a moment when he saw all the commotion at the front of the castle. He fixed his hair before bounding up the stairs, an excuse for his behavior ready on his lips.

The days had been growing shorter and shorter as winter quickly approached. Gaston and LeFou had thought to make the most out of the last bearably cool fall days to go on a hunt. One last big kill for the season. 

As dusk fell on the fourth day of their trip with still no luck they decided to head into town for the night instead of returning to their camp. Opting for a warm fire and soft beds over the cold hard ground of their tents. Upon arriving at the inn in the closest town, dusk had turned into deep night. The inn keeper had assured them that he only had a single bed available even as several seemingly unclaimed keys hung behind him. 

The room was nothing special but the bed was large enough for the both of them and that was enough for Gaston. He kicked off his boots and dropped his heavy leather coat to the ground making his way straight to the bed. He let himself fall into it, the softness enveloping him as he stretched across it. Exhaustion had set in and he wanted nothing more than to curl up under the thick comforter and slip off to sleep. 

Continued from HERE

Normally Jacques backed down when Gaston got angry, or at least to the point he was currently. Shoulders stiffly held, the hunter had moved closer to LeFou, his stance meant to be intimidating, to make the other man back down. And yet, this time, their arguing continued instead.

Teeth bared with his snarled words at his loyal companion, Gaston found himself moving closer and closer to the shorter man, his anger driving him. Or so he thought it was anger, later he might question if he had been accurate in that assumption. After all, he couldn't say that he normally found himself gripping the lapels of one whom he was angry with and dragging them forward into a KISS.

Whatever emotions were fueling him at the moment, they made his mind go blank as he kissed LeFou. His grip on the other's shirt was so tight that his knuckles had blanched, but still he could think of nothing but getting his friend closer, pulling Jacques in tight against himself even as his teeth caught at the other's lower lip sharply.

Lefou as a soldier and/or what could almost have happened had the curse not been cast and Adam became a tyrannical king

My screen froze, so all I’m getting from this ad is GASTON: AN EXHILARATING GIFT. 

tienes preguntas?

;;Hmm. This one’s really a yes-and-no sort of deal; it requires we break the fandom down by segment.

For example: I feel like as RPers, we all do a really swello jello job at him! :D I haven’t met a member of the Fou Fam whose interp I’ve entirely objected to yet, bar perhaps my own! (Hey, hey! Listen! My backstory. Sucks.)But hooooo boy. In the tags? And in a lot of the fics I keep encountering? Oh, it’s so uncomfortable. I disagree with it so hard.

There’s this weird thing I’ve noticed in fandom where preference to mainstream aestheic inclinations becomes license to mistreat and mishandle characters; what I mean more specifically is that if the character in question is white, CISgendered-male, and conventionally attractive, he gets to be the swoon-worthy unproblematic good guy whose wrongs can all be justified, forgotten, or outright forgiven without any strides being made towards actually bettering him as a person, whereas if the character in question is a person of color, somehow not CISgendered-male (including female, nonbinary, and the trans community), or unconventionally attractive (or even conventionally unattractive), they get to become–drum roll please–nothing but a tool for the former archetype to use in reforming themselves.

And that’s troublesome, and bothersome, and more often than not results in interpretations that are highly disagreeable to one or both characters.