benedictsmeethington

[benedictsmeethington]

cosette-gothel​:

</3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3

“You look awful,” was the first thing out of Cosette’s mouth. It was really the only thing she could think of to say. Never before had he looked so…tired. Distraught. Messy. Her words lacked the usual scathing tone she would bring to the table however and took on a genuinely worried sort of tilt. “I imagine it was better in that I was wise enough not to go eating fairy food. Something tells me you were not so lucky as to escape unscathed.”

She sighed and pulled a chair to up to sit beside him. On her way over she had stopped by the market, picking up various treats that she hoped might coax him out of his stupor. She had seen glimpses of him during the bacchanal but hadn’t had the chance to properly call upon him.

It seemed that was for the best.

“I’ve brought you something to eat.” Cosette procured the food from her bag and set them on his side table, taking a deep breath. “You had me worried about you, you know? When I didn’t speak to you the entire night. Normally we always end up finding each other somehow.” She sighed, “Why are men such idiots that they always have to get themselves into trouble?”

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

“Thanks,” Benedict deadpanned, resentful of the girl’s words of greeting. His awful was still far better than some others’ best, but he didn’t have the energy to say it. He just wanted to rest. In silence, preferably... unless he was being showered with compliments. Cosette’s next words were equally as upsetting.

There was nothing like being called hideous and stupid by someone who knew you intimately.

“It wasn’t unwise of me,” he allowed his eyes to open in order to stress. “Unlike many others, clearly, I knew what I was doing. It was obvious that the food and drink were the source of much of the frivolity of the evening. I am aware enough about the effects of certain substances to have made an educated decision. This is simply not the result I had been hoping for.”

With that, he had assumed that she would simply leave, deserting him to allow him to wallow in his misery. Instead, he was surprised to see her unpacking a few items. His stomach rumbled at the sight of food, both a reminder of the previous evening’s mistakes and a cue that he needed to move on and eat something new.

“So you are saying that you missed me,” the male smiled an attempt to lighten the mood, a weight slowly being lifted off of his shoulders the more Cosette began to prove just how much she cared about him. “Because trouble is more fun. Usually.”

[benedictsmeethington]

With a little help from a friend it hadn’t taken Benedict too long to bounce back from the faerie bacchanal. One day of recovery, complete with plenty of liquids, rest, and pity, had done him good. However, there was one concern that had been eating away at him since he’d first skimmed the latest edition of Lady Chattermore’s papers.

He had not been alone.

He had not been the only one to react so strongly, so negatively to what he had consumed. He had not been the only one forced to leave the festivities because of it. And while Benedict had a supportive network of individuals who he could trust to check in on him, he wasn’t sure if Lady Astrid Bjorgman (a woman who he had zero prior knowledge of prior to their names appearing together in print) had the same.

It was almost as if it was his duty to offer support to her... and maybe a bit of questioning too.

Thus he had selected a few flowers from a shop on his way over to roughly where he knew the townhouses of the Auradonians to be. He was aware that one should not show up without a gift, and he was at least trying to maintain a positive reputation in the still somewhat new place.

 It had not been difficult to get directions to the Bjorgman’s residence in the end, and mere minutes after he had entered the neighborhood, Benedict was carefully seated in the sitting room off of the girl’s entryway, waiting for an unknown face to pop into the room.

“Good morning, Lady Bjorgman,” Ben greeted as soon as the door opened to reveal a young woman, standing as it was the gentlemanly thing to do. “I’m not calling on you to offer a courtship... unless you want me to be. Lady Chattermore wrote that we had the same reaction. At the bacchanal. Do you think we might have been poisoned?”

@discnchant​

[benedictsmeethington]

Benedict Smeethington considered himself a connoisseur when it came to a select number of things in this world - beautiful women, the stars, and... mood-altering drugs.

Which was why the previous night had been so upsetting. Ben thought he knew a thing or two about certain substances, but one taste of the delicacy that Silverbell had gestured towards and he’d very quickly realized that he knew nothing. Everyone else seemed lighter, more free, and the male had been so certain that he would follow suit. But Ben had never felt more weighed down, trapped in a perpetual mist and seeing horrors that he had worked so hard to block out. Water filling his lungs, no one there to help, escaping just to be trapped in a confined space. Distant memories, or perhaps even nightmares, that were never meant to see the light of day were playing out before his eyes, and he was the sole beneficiary.

Yo ho, etc.

 Squinting into the harsh morning light, Ben had barely allowed himself to get up and crack open his door before he was reclining back onto his bed - a pitiful sight for the girl who had just called upon him. Were it any other day Benedict may have attempted to offer some false cheer and charm, a suggestive comment falling from his lips playing off of the fact that he was being sought out in his chambers. However, Ben was too tired, too full of thoughts and feelings to put up the façade. Did Cosette even really need to be presented with one at that point?

“I do not think that I will be able to offer much company today,” he murmured as he let his eyes fall closed. “I do hope your bacchanal was superior to mine.”

@cosette-gothel​​

[benedictsmeethington]

talesnbone​:

they had not really be friends on the other side. she simply knew of his existence and he probably knew of hers. but since coming to the side with the sunshine, they had been in the same places at night. the stars hung far above them. Sabine hadn’t known he had a love for them. but, she understood it completely. when they weren’t silent, just tracing the stars, she shared stories. legends more so. she had more than a few of them grilled into her mind. both her mother and father knew more than most and always made sure to share. 

“oh. well, i welcome you to figuring one out, good sir,” she teased softly before taking another sip of her fruity water. she thought it was water anyway. really, all Sabine knew was that her instincts didn’t freak out when she reached for it. that counted for something. 

“mmm, well, i have had some of the cakes and some of the fruity water.” she supplied with a smile. “so, i confirm the food is good. but you know what they saw about fae,” her voice dipped low for a moment to give him a pointed look. careful with the food they give you young soul. danced around her head quietly but she laughed it off out loud. “it seems other people are falling into some sort of enjoyment.” was added with a nod while her eyes looked over the people in the large area. 

many an auradonian seemed to be more relaxed than she had ever seen them. some almost scandalous. finally, people were a little more willing to simply, be. “about time, really. i’ve been waiting for people to stop standing so straight and have a little true leisure time.” 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

“...Beanie?” Ben suggested after a moment of thought, somewhat uncomfortable with the suggestion. It was a bit of an odd nickname, but... it was on par with Benny. It was just a nickname that was equally as long as the girl’s actual name, rendering it somewhat ineffective.

Still, the suggestion had already been voiced, and Ben wasn’t about to take it back or worry about it. Instead his attention had been drawn to words that came soon after her nickname encouragement, the male’s eyes narrowing as he tried to think back to everything he’d ever heard about fae.

The answer was nothing. His father had never taught him a single thing about them. Truthfully, he had learned more about them from the mix-up with Baxter Pan-Darling regarding pixie dust than at any other time in his life. He likely should have prepared more to surround himself with them, but Benedict was of the mind that occasionally ignorance was bliss and he had enough sense to land on his feet were things to go sideways.

...right?

“No, I don’t. What do they say about fae?” he asked, knowing that Sabine would likely provide just the right amount of illumination for him - just like how she’d informed him about the constellations in the night sky.

At the very least, Benedict was happy to fall into easy agreement with Sabine on the matter of how buttoned up and boring the members of society had been thus far. It was appalling, really, how they’d all had to stifle themselves to be as ‘perfect’ as they could. It was unrealistic. And even though he had not been there long, he could already tell that those from the Shadow Realm were not the only ones encouraged to hide behind a façade in Auradon.

“You and I both. Something about this night appears to be incredibly freeing, and I for one am not about to miss out on celebrating this more recent development. This night is full of possibility. Maybe I’ll even dance with that princess who is taking charge of the dance floor.”

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

[benedictsmeethington]

silverbcll​:

⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂⁎⁂

Silver’s brows rose as he spoke of seeking out the source of the visions. She was not sure if he was being truthful in this moment. In fact, she had hoped that the humans that had come to the party would be enraptured in the effects of the food and drink before they realized what was happening, as to not clue in that it was an effect at all. But this man, perhaps he had arrived late. Or maybe he had just been wrapped up in conversation so long that he did not get a chance to consume anything.

The part of her that had made sure the food and drink were at the party wanted to take his hand and guide him to a table, feed him the food that would give him his desired effect. But she could not allow someone to know she had a hand in this chaos, and she did not know this man at all. How could she trust he would not spill the information to some kind of authorities?

“Perhaps they are so entranced by my world they have decided to keep their inhibitions at the door?” Silver continued to circle around the man, her hand drag along his arms, his shoulders, his back and then down again. “Or maybe they found their way into a room further into the estate. We can be all consuming, when we like. Perhaps a moment or two alone with a fae has opened their eyes up to what could be, when you leave the expectations and rules created by society at the door.”

She gave him a knowing smile during her second turn, hand skimming from his back up to his neck briefly to tease the hair at the nape of it. “I am Silverbell, of Neverland. And you, boy? Who might you be?” She repeated his words back to him, a playful glint in her eyes as she stopped in front of him again.

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

“Perhaps,” Benedict quirked a single brow, not believing the former suggestion in the slightest. The blonde may have been playing him as if he were a violin, her hands somehow knowing just where to go, but it was not a situation foreign to him. He certainly knew enough to keep his wits about him, and therefore he had been able to speak knowingly. For the moment, at least.

Her second suggestion, however, was promising. And it was also enough to temporarily get him to forget about the hallucinogens he had been seeking. “And can I hope for a moment or two alone with a fae?” he murmured back, intrigue building by the moment.

Her hands, her words, everything about what was currently happening... though he may try to resist, Benedict was a simple man. It was not too hard to lead him in one direction or another - particularly if a beautiful woman was doing the leading. He did not appreciate entering situations that would make him look foolish, but on occasion he did it willingly. Would that night be one of those moments? Had any resistance he’d had been so easily lost? What would it be like - being with a fairy?

But then she identified herself, and Benedict’s playful yet knowing smirk faltered.

Neverland. A place he had heard tales from many times, but to which he had never been. He’d befriended one Neverlandian already, the son of the mortal enemy of his father’s former captain, but... would all be so welcoming to the children of former pirates?

“I am Benedict Smeethington, son of Bartholomew Quigley Smeethington who was likewise of Neverland,” he nodded. And then he waited for a reaction.

[benedictsmeethington]

talesnbone​:

the entire day, sabine had spent her time in the sun. she followed through the park and looked at all the things they had done. she spoke to every faery she could find herself in front of. she did her best to smile and enjoy the day. the colors, the smells, the food. all of it was good in her opinion. but there was something in the back of her mind. she had begun to call it her intuition. an instinct.  it told her to watch out for the day. so, she had. taken corners slowly. what if she was going to trip or run into someone?

tried to keep herself relaxed and calm. not too overly excited or rambunctious. that didn’t stop her from feeling a giddy spike travel through her body when she walked into the evening gathering.

faeries with their wings shimmering. their clothing just as sparkling as everything else. the invitation had said that she was able to be a little freer in her dress, so, of course she was. her dress was simple golden yellow, bright against her skin as she moved through the area. her hair down and flowing with curls. every detail was slowly being looked over when her eyes caught sight of the table with delicious looking food.

with a smile, she nearly skipped over to the table. but her hand stopped just slight of picking up the opal colored jewel like fruit. quietly, she hmmm’d to herself before moving on and reaching for one of the little cakes. grabbing a blue one, she took a bite. humming in delight, she moved about the table before looking towards the drinks. staying away from the wine, sabine reached for a sparkling drink. water?

drinking slowly, she was pleased to note the fresh taste before catching sight of a familiar face. tossing the rest of the little cake in her mouth, she made her way over. not a single ounce of decorum. “benny!” she exclaimed excitedly. secretly full of glee on letting the nickname out. she hadn’t seen him very much since they had come to auradon. well, hadn’t seen him too much before then either but still, she was happy to see the other shadow born. “well, mr. smeethington. are you enjoying yourself yet?” @benedictsmeethington​

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Ben had taken one look at the invitation he’d received for that evening and decided that his usual clothes would do just fine. Not his newer, Auradon-approved selections, but the grittier pirate apparel from the Shadow Realm - the flowing blouse, the looser pants... no sword, but that was understandable. And he felt... right. For the first time in weeks he felt comfortable in what he was wearing, and so he was already walking into the party with a pep to his step.

Observing how cheery everyone inside was only further bolstered his mood. He had questioned whether he should attend that evening or try and get some private time with a lovely female friend, and though it was still up in the air which would have been a better use of the time, with each individual who he greeted, both Shadowborn and Auradonian alike, he felt a little lighter.

The faeries knew what they were doing when it came to their events, it would seem.

Slipping over to the refreshments, Ben was just about to pick up a goblet of wine when he heard someone shout a nickname that could only be for him, and he found himself turning to greet Sabine with a smile.

“You do realize that it is not fair that I get a nickname and you do not, yes?” he asked, teasing lightly.

He and Sabine had never been all that close, but since arriving in Auradon they had come across each other’s paths on more than one occasion while stargazing. It had been a bonding experience. He was fond of her and had no secret intentions that would ever put that fondness at risk - odd for him, but bit by bit he was maturing.

“I’ve only just arrived, but I’m inclined to say yes. Have you been here long? Anything interesting happened yet?”

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

[benedictsmeethington]

silverbcll​:

The bacchanal was the first time in weeks that Silverbell felt like herself. A soft, white linen dress was draped over her body, not doing a damn thing to shield her body from those around her. Her wings were extended and displayed for all, the colors of them almost like that of an opal. Translucent at first glance, but depending on how the light reflected through them, they were soft pastels of blue and green and yellow and purple, with a quick shimmer of silver every so often. She made sure to wear her silver circlet that had opal stones inset to give the illusion of flowers. Silver looked just the picture of the High Queen of Fae that she was expected to be one day.

But oh, how she was certain that day would never come. While she had a deep love for Sev, there was no part of her that wanted to be a ruler. Her High Prince had a fondness for humans she did not share. While yes, she enjoyed their company and held no ill will towards them, Silver had always seen them more as toys. Something to play with when she got bored, and discard when she was done. Tonight was no different. It was why she had encouraged the fae staff to bring dishes from the vale, enchanted treats that would tempt the most honorable of men.

Eyeing a softer looking man, one that held what she could only assess to be mischief in his eyes, the blonde made her way over to him. Quickly, her arms came to wrap around his torso as she pressed herself into his backside, let her head rest on his chest. These humans, so prim and proper, might shy away at her touch at first. But they were around the fae now, and Silver was making no attempt to fit into their stuffy world this night. “Oh hello there.” She purred into his ear, before moving around to stand in front of him. “A curious one, you are. What is on your mind, Sir?” Her right hand has moved through his hair as she spoke, her index finger coming down to caress his cheek, his jaw and finally lift up his chin as she finished her sentence.

@benedictsmeethington​

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

It had not taken Ben long to realize that something in the faerie food was altering the behavior of those around him. When the occasion demanded it he could be perceptive, and no occasion was quite as demanding as a party. Watching a group nearby pawing at the space in front of them, talking to figures that were not there...

He knew what was happening. And he wanted it to happen to him.

Eyes flitting about the room, he thought he was masking his determination to find a fairy well. He didn’t want to seem desperate, but he did want to escape into whatever fantastical hallucinogenic world would surely be awaiting him as soon as he could. The very thought of such a release from the mounting pressures of Auradonian society... it was enough to have him wondering if he could just go up and ask people what they had been eating.

Luckily, he didn’t have to do that.

Instead, someone had approached him. Feeling arms wrap around him, Benedict was not immediately certain who was approaching him. Several individuals came to mind. However, he soon realized that the voice greeting him was not one he recognized, and he allowed himself to turn ever so slightly to take the woman in before she was in front of him.

He was not accustomed to women in Auradon being so forward, but it suited the faerie in front of him. And he certainly wasn’t about to decline any advances from one so beautiful.

“I was preoccupied with trying to discover the source of the visions that group is experiencing,” Ben admitted with ease as he gestured towards the group in question. “But I find that you have given me something else to be curious about. Who might you be?”

[benedictsmeethington]

baxter-pan-darling​:

☆。*。☆。 ☆。*。☆。 ☆。*。☆。 ☆。*。☆。

Baxter looked curiously at the man in front of him as he began speaking of substances, only to remember that to an on looker this entire thing must reek of something less than gentlemanly. He laughed loudly, less than ashamed, more than amused.

“My apologies, mate, I mean it quite literally. This is pixie dust and we will be able to fly anywhere to our hearts content. Fly as in take to the skies. Though I am curious to know what you’ve gotten up to that’s allowed you to take flight in other ways,” he teased.

The entire situation was rather silly and he couldn’t help but begin to laugh again. “I cannot believe how foolish I must have looked right then. And you looked like someone had shined a light in your eyes. I’ve never seen someone so fearful around me before. I really had no intention of making you feel such a way.”

Baxter tried to hide his laughter as he asked again, “Now would you like to fly somewhere? I know this pub you’d rather enjoy. Or at least I rather enjoy it and I think you would too.”

Perhaps their friendship would be an odd one, what with the history behind them, but he was not someone who put much stalk into old family rivalries. Benedict was fun and the two got along swimmingly. That was all that mattered in the end.

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

“Oh.”

While Ben finally felt himself relax, he didn’t particularly enjoy how amused the other male had clearly been. It was an understandable mix-up, to be offered a tiny bag full of an unknown substance called “pixie dust” and make an assumption from there! There were many names for opiates, and he’d dabbled with a fair few over the years just for fun, but they were harder to come by in the Shadow Realm. Both then and now he had no intention of making it a habit.

Of course, he’d assumed that anything that could be quite so fun would be outlawed in Auradon.

“You know, given that I still have not been able to gauge the legality of such substances in this realm, I don’t think I’m at liberty to say...” he drifted off, his good-humor seeping back bit by bit.

Thankfully a semi-apology was quick to head his way, and with a shrug Benedict was able to move past the awkward misunderstanding entirely. Their outing was just beginning, and there would surely be plenty more as the cultures they were raised in began to clash, but their similarities would surely only continue to shine through.

“No, it’s alright,” he offered, intrigue causing him to outstretch his hand towards the bag. “As long as it’s allowed. I’m under the impression that I’m meant to be on my best behavior. Also, as long as the trip to the pub is your treat. I have yet to secure a position that will allow me to spend beyond my current, non-existent, means. Not that I’m looking forward to finding work, but I am looking forward to the funds that I’ve been told come with it.”

[benedictsmeethington]

discnchant​:

❧❧❧❧

She watched the gentleman closely with observant eyes. Briar had come to notice that men grew so very uncomfortable when women spoke so freely on their knowledge and opinion. Typically they would silent her, or try to tear down her words in an effort to glorify their own. This young man however appeared to do the opposite, turning his attention back to the painting and seeming to observe it in, she hoped, a new light. Whether that was good or bad was to be seen, but she wondered silently if her response was what he’d been seeking or a delightful surprise. She hoped he wouldn’t disappoint and revert to his sex’s usual wounded pride at being educated, should that be the case. She felt strongly that he probably didn’t know much about art in general. 

Briar bit back the urge to comment on his odd name, surmising correctly that he wasn’t an Auradon native. She’d know a ‘Smeethington’ family if they were established or not. “Lady Briar Rose Basille. Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Smeethington.” And she smiled prettily, as he had been taught to do any time she was talking to a gentleman whether he be a man of means or just some vagrant on the street. A good impression had always been important to her family. 

She did not hide her frown when Benedict admitted to not being familiar with art. He must have been from the Shadow Realm, there was no other place she could think of that would be mostly devoid of good artwork. That world was meant to be a prison after all, it only made sense it lacked in something as wonderful. “Most would not so freely admit to not knowing much about the topic they engaged another in, but I should say you’re already starting in the right direction. It’s not normal for someone unfamiliar with the subject to make comments on lines, let alone to ask genuinely from another about them. You’ll get a good education here, people love talking about the paintings they adorn their walls with.” She spoke with a smile on her face, despite the underhanded comments on her peers. 

“But I think, really, all you ever need to ask yourself where art is concerned is just whether or not you like it. You don’t have to understand much beyond that.” She wanted to make him feel less intimidated, should he have felt so, but she also stood by that remark. Who cares if it looks off or not, so long as it’s something you enjoy looking at. “They do say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder… I think that translates especially to this.” 

“Then it would seem you are already more educated than you expressed. Tell me, do you quite like the work of your friend? Might you recommend her work over what you see on this gallery wall?” She motioned to the work adorning the wall but didn’t pull her attention from the young man, curious what he might say. “If you’re no connoisseur of art, then what is it that you find interest in, Mr. Smeethington?” 

❧❧❧❧

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

Benedict was grateful for the pause in conversation for introductions. Firstly, because he truly did want to know the name of the beautiful woman standing before him, but secondly, because it gave him a moment to reset prior to continuing a conversation he had not at all been prepared for.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Briar Rose Basille,” he nodded, hesitating as he debated with himself whether he was supposed to take her hand and kiss it or just let the moment pass... she had not offered it, which was likely a sign as to the latter.

But he could offer a bright smile instead.

“If I might share my opinion, I do believe that sometimes people do love to talk about things that they know nothing of, so I am a tad worried about the quality of that education,” he felt compelled to say as he remembered how his father attempted to teach him maths. Dreadful subject, that, and one that his father had known little about. He was still being made fun of for his horrible division years later. Ever charming, Ben quickly followed up with a statement that made it clear that if his words were unwelcome, he meant no offense. “But if it is how you learned, I am certain it will be a good one.”

Eyes raking over the remaining paintings on the wall, Benedict had to admit that Briar Rose’s words rang true. Beauty was certainly in the eye of the beholder. And the most beautiful thing in the room... was her.

If only thoughts of Cosette were not haunting his mind just based on their subject matter alone. He needed to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I do quite like it, yes, but I am biased. They are portraits, and the ones I have seen are of myself. I have refrained from snooping to see much more,” he lied, offering a casual shrug. Before he’d engaged in his arrangement with Cosette, he’d heard talk of her talent. He had then been sure to steal glances at her work before she had ever even picked up a pencil with him in mind. But that had been an act of selfishness, and not done out of appreciation for the work.

“The two are so different that I’m unsure if I can compare and contrast. But as she is a friend, that does make me lean towards yes.”

And then he’d been offered it - the blissful change of subject that would prolong their conversation and allow for him to finally relax. And though the clear first answer that came to mind in response to Briar Rose’s question was women, he knew that would get him absolutely nowhere. Without much thought he was sharing the two other passions he had picked up over the years.

“I would like to say sailing, but sadly that lies in the theoretical for me. There was no opportunity for me to do so given the environment I was raised, though I do have the knowledge from my father. I would also like to say the stars, but until now that has also had to be theoretical. On that front I am a quick study, however. I have made sure to keep them in my view on every clear night since my arrival and find I know a great deal more now than when I first stepped foot here.”

[benedictsmeethington]

cosette-gothel​:

</3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3

“Why do you ask? Jealousy perhaps?” Cosette raised a brow, happy to have elicited some sort of emotion from him that caused his perpetual grin to halt even for a moment. “Or just curiosity? Truthfully it’s none of your business what I choose to do with anyone else I paint.”

It amused her, their back and forth, but what truly made her laugh was the sheer panic in his eyes as the dance began in earnest. He was floundering and she was doing her best to keep them above water.

“Is that your attempt at escaping our dance?” she giggled and grasped his hands more tightly, leaning just enough closer to whisper the count in his ear.

Cosette was not an expert dancer by any means but she knew well enough. Upon hearing that they would be allowed into Auradon for this social season she had dedicated herself to her studies of proper society movements. She lead them well and did her best to coax him into confident steps.

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

“Curiosity, always,” the male was quick to insist, needing to regain some control over the conversation to balance the fact that he had no control over the situation he’d found himself in. Twirling her about the dance floor, he was helpless. Trading comments he could do.

“I understand that we do not owe each other anything. Certainly you do not need to hear of all whom I enter into any sort of arrangement with, either passing or of another nature. But I suppose that is why this works,” he reasoned, doing all he could to make it abundantly clear that he had not been jealous. He was always at ease, in Auradon and on the planet for a good time and not necessarily a long time. Benedict Smeethington did not get jealous.

But Cosette’s whispering in his ear had him feeling some type of way. He could only blame the slightly lacking education his father had given him for his inability to put any particular words to it.

Instead, he let her soft counting guide him, a spin here, a dip there, stepping away from each other a half-beat after those nearby and once again towards each other when everyone moved to do so. Ben wasn’t the sharpest, but he had never struggled to blend in for his own survival, and as he danced with Cosette he knew it was a skill he was going to have to refine if he wanted any shot at living the good life in Auradon (until he was eventually kicked out).

“Why am I not surprised that you are good at this?” he murmured as they were brought back together, having gotten close enough to lean down and whisper directly into her left ear. It was likely playing with fire to be seen so close to each other when most seemed to be leaving enough room between them and their partner for some higher power to slot between them, but... old habits.

“Do you know if you have been given a roommate for the evening?”

[benedictsmeethington]

baxter-pan-darling​:

Baxter had become acquainted with Benedict Smeethington during Emma’s Welcome Ball. The two got along well, both having childlike spirits, and had agreed to meet up at another time so that Baxter could show him about the town. There were many areas he hoped that the sailor’s son would find excitement in but especially Low Town amongst the pubs and drunken revelry.

His family was not of noble blood, but they were respected well enough. It wasn’t often that he was able to go visiting the seedier parts of town without his mother reprimanding him for tarnishing the family name while his father laughed in the background.

“Have you ever flown somewhere before?” Baxter offered as greeting, holding up a small bag of pixie dust. While it wasn’t most peoples travel method of choice there family was comfortable in the air. 

@benedictsmeethington​

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

Benedict hadn’t expected to get along so well with those seated near him at the Welcome Ball. In truth, he had been a large bundle of nerves throughout the evening, simply hoping he would make it through the night having not made himself look a fool while also having introduced himself to every fair maiden in the area. Minus one notably awful dance (something that he would be sure to correct for the next large gathering), he had been successful on both fronts.

But he had also been granted a gift that evening that extended past his basic wishes - free-flowing conversation with similar-minded gentlemen seated nearby. In the course of one evening, Benedict Smeethington had potentially secured himself some mates.

Benedict had never found it to be difficult to converse with others, always one to dive head-first into a conversation. However, there had been some amount of hesitation when it came to the Pan-Darling boy. The hesitation dissipated almost instantly after roughly ten words had been spoken between the two of them, complicated family history be damned. His father had simply been along for the ride anyway.

Down to the way they spoke, the two were finding more and more ways they were not dissimilar, and Benedict was certain that he could have a pal for life.

Until Baxter made an offer that Benedict was certain he must refuse.

Eyes darting down to the bag, Ben knew that keeping his eyes moving was the only way to keep them from widening in surprise. No one had ever been so forward with their offering up of substances before, and though he had some amount of experience with things... he wasn’t sure that he would consider how he felt after he’d inhaled or ingested anything to feel like flying.

It almost felt like a trap. He was supposed to be on his best behavior, yes? He could not defend his behavior if he became unsure of what it was.

“I do not know that I should answer that question,” he hesitated. “It’s... quite bold to make such an offering in public, I must say. But then again I suppose I don’t know Auradon’s stance on... substances.”

[benedictsmeethington]

cosette-gothel​:

</3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3 </3

“I have no issues appearing acquainted simply appearing as acquainted as we are. I have a reputation to establish here and I hardly think the people knowing what sort of things I’ve gotten up to with those I paint portraits of is to help with such matters,” Cosette huffed taking a deep breath before fixing her smile back in place.

There was something about Benedict that made him particularly talented at getting under her skin. She wasn’t sure what sort of magic it was but it certainly was frustrating.

Had they been back in the Shadow Realm they would be discussing things with much less propriety and she would be halfway into a glass of mine with her dress covered in paint as she determinedly placed his likeness on a canvas.

But then his comment made her blush in earnest. Truthfully she did rather enjoy it when he was no gentleman but that was for no one else to know.

“Perhaps I do prefer it. But we’re in no place to be uttering such things.”

His dance technique was terrible at best but Cosette couldn’t help but find herself laughing a bit. “Do you need me to guide you Mr. Smeethington? Perhaps a woman to show you around a dance floor would do you some good?”

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

Perhaps Benedict should not have been so quick to be amused by the clear jealousy the girl was exhibiting. The very moment that Cosette hinted that he was not the only subject of her art that she had a more scandalous history with the male’s amused smile faltered. It wasn’t jealousy, not quite, but more... the stunning realization that perhaps he’d been less special than he had originally believed.

“You’ve had the same arrangement with all whose portraits you paint?” he was unable to stop himself from asking, eyes having widened as he tried to think back to their time spent together in the Shadow Realm. He’d snuck a peek at her sketchbook before... who else was in it?

But then Cosette was unknowingly offering him the opportunity to continue on with his suggestive comments, and who was he to ruin the mood with things that, in the end, did not particular matter?

“There are other places that I’m sure we could make our way towards...” he trailed off, his suggestive smirk fading away in favor of true fear when faced with the fact that he’d just agreed to do something that he knew would only make him appear to be a fool. How could anyone have learned to do a quadrille (apparently that was the name of that moment’s torture) when there was no opportunity for such frivolity in the Shadow Realm?

He was trying his best, but ten steps in and it was undoubtedly clear that he was not a natural.

“Perhaps. Do take the lead, Miss Gothel.”

[benedictsmeethington]

FROY GUTIERREZ Cruel Summer › 1.02, “A Smashing Good Time” (2021)

[benedictsmeethington]

discnchant​:

If there was one thing that Briar Rose knew, it was art. Like many young ladies in court, Briar was taught many admirable skills which befitted a proper young woman. Piano and singing, dancing, needle point, all forms of manners and etiquette, watercolors, poetry and how to properly use a fan. She was proficient in many of those things, but her greatest skill lay with a brush and watered down paints. In Auroria many of the city buildings were adorned in gorgeous watercolor and oil pieces, the familiar script of the Duke’s daughter‘s signature adorning their corners. Books upon books of charcoal sketches, ink drawings, sat upon desks in their estate, and she often found herself by the fire, capturing moments in time with her favorite young ladies in court. It was her escape from the sometimes disappointing world she lived in. She’d had no control over much of her life, but she had the control when applying brush strokes to a canvas. It made her feel whole, seeing the finished product of hours of hard labor.

Many spoke of art, critiqued it. Many that did so were often moronic men who didn’t know their way around a palette. She’d listened to a pompous lord or two drone on about compositions with such a harshness that was completely unwarranted. Who were they to say whether or not a painter’s work was good or not, when they could hardly piece together lines and create the likeness of a person in the barest of shapes. Accomplished young painter she was, they hardly sought her opinion on such a topic. Maybe if they did they could learn a thing or two about the passion and love that went behind the pieces which hung up in every major estate in Auradon. But she thought most of them unfeeling soulless things. Not even the greatest masters could move them

She had not expected to be drawn into conversation of art when she’d stumbled into that room. In truth, she sought a reprieve from the heat and loudness of the ballroom. A stroll through the garden was likely a good way to go, but she thought she saw the child of Maleficent wander into the labyrinth of rose bushes, and, though her curiosity was strong, she was not ready to confront her. So she thought a room such as this would be empty. To her surprise, a young man had stood there, eying a painting hanging on the wall. She eyed him suspiciously a moment — he was not familiar to her, and no introduction had been made. She couldn’t place his face nor name, which likely meant he was among the new guests. Interesting — did they have paintings such as these back in the Shadow Realm? His question was well rehearsed, the kind of question the men tossed to one another while tearing down another’s work. Standing beside him, she tilted her head and looked over the painting with an unreadable gaze.

“I suppose that depends on who you ask. It is true that it is not in popular taste to paint with such bold strokes. Most painters these days lean towards refined details, an almost life like still image. However, the boldness of these lines help create a composition that is direct to the point. It is not to create an extreme likeness to reality, it is to convey the hastiness of that moment, the movement which other pieces of this gallery fail to reach. That horse there, she practically leaps from the canvas. And you can feel the wind through her rider’s hair. You can see those dogs running through the thicket and underbrush of the forest, eagerly on the hunt. Those bold lines, arching the back of the stampeding dogs, they subtly show us not just their shape but their movement. I dare say that unlike that painting there of fruit assembled on platter, this invokes an image and story so alive you can almost taste it. It’s truly an exquisite piece if only for its ability to take such a quick moment and preserve it in time. I am deeply envious of this painter’s gifts. There is nothing chic about it, it is simply art at its finest. If only she were willing to teach her masterful ways.”

Briar turned her head to now observe the young man with as careful an eye. Handsome, as was expected of the night’s guests, and tall. Her opinion of him would be tested in his response as she motioned back to the work. “Wouldn’t you agree? Or do you have a strong opinion of the piece, Mr…?” She didn’t know him, could not place a name, but she was more interested in knowing if he was an artist himself. If his opinion was more than the surface level critique of a self righteous lord.

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

A brief flash of panic was evident in the male’s eyes once the blonde began to answer his question, her far superior knowledge making him wary of the conversation he’d pursued. When he’d asked the question, he hadn’t expected the answer to be so... thorough. None of the conversations he’d overheard that evening had been. What if she asked him something in return that he simply had no answer for? It was simply too soon into his time in Auradon for him to make a fool of himself.

Benedict did his best to take in what the woman was saying, and though he simply could not process everything, he felt he understood it generally. The piece he’d given a half-formed opinion on was supposed to be off. It was done in an attempt to convey action and feeling, the two very things that Benedict found to be least present in art. Staring up at the work again as the blonde seemed to conclude her informative monologue, Ben kept his eyes carefully trained on the piece, head tilted in thought, as he mulled over the information he’d just been presented with.

He still felt nothing, but he understood the movement idea.

And he appreciated the easy out that was given to him next.

“Smeethington. Benedict Smeethington. And you are?” he inquired, turning his whole body away from the wall as he focused his attention instead on the woman before him.

“I must admit that I have never considered myself anywhere near knowledgeable on art. In my more formative years there wasn’t much available to me to form an opinion of and there was certainly not enough to further my knowledge of the subject. I’m trying to be a quick study now that I have the resources available to me. My thoughts were more... in comparison to the paintings surrounding this one, I suppose. And my question was genuine curiosity. I could only tell that this work was different from the ones nearby,” he offered, doing his best to answer her question while still navigating himself out of a serious conversation about art.

“I have a friend who is an artist,” he followed up almost immediately, the word ‘friend’ falling from his lips without hesitation. “In truth, all of my knowledge comes from watching her.”

[benedictsmeethington]

SMEETHINGTON FAMILY AESTHETICS #1/-

“bart smee was and still is a very loving father. simple loyalty had branded him a villain, and for that he had been eternally punished. it didn’t even matter that once he’d been banished, he’d managed to stay far away from captain hook. at that point the damage was done. however, with all the time not devoted to being a lackey, bart devoted a lot of time to raising his son to be a decent, well-educated* guy. and deep down, behind some of the coping mechanisms, that’s what ben is.”

*it was still bart teaching him. bart was not the brightest person around. ben knows a lot, but it’s scattered information. at the very least he knows how to read, but please do not ask him to do math. he can tie knots, but what is science?

[benedictsmeethington]

For all the time that he’d spent with Cosette in the quest for a single portrait, one would think that Benedict Smeethington would know a little more about art.

Alas, he was staring at the various paintings as he made his way around the estate at which the ball was taking place, and he had to admit that he knew almost nothing.

He could name colors, of course, and he knew about shading and perspective some, but in no universe would he ever be able to match the art critiquing that he’d overheard earlier in the evening. Comparing the likeness between the original and the work of art, arguing over lines and the feeling one gets when looking at a particular piece...

When Ben looked at art he felt nothing. Landscapes? Portraits of dead people? Portraits of live people that he didn’t know? Nothing. The closest that he’d felt to an emotion when looking at art was when he’d seen his own portrait, and even then he suspected it was more to do with the complicated situation with the artist over the (admittedly good, he at least knew that) art itself. There was no life in art. It was a moment in time, or a moment of fiction, captured for the world to see, but there was no way to interact with it like he’d prefer. It wasn’t like the night sky, ever changing and always new. And the more Ben stared at things, the more bored he became.

Or, he would be, if it weren’t for the fact that a beautiful blonde had made her way into the same room off of the hall that he had stumbled into. He was aware that he was taking a chance by starting their conversation in the way that he did, but Ben refused to give his opening line too much thought as he instead repeated, word-for-word, a question that he’d heard earlier.

“Do the lines in this piece feel off to you?”

@discnchant​ 

[benedictsmeethington]

gwendolyndallben​:

𝐵𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓉 𝒮𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓉𝑜𝓃:

Gwen had stumbled upon the drawing room with a piano and chairs relatively late into the evening. She had danced with a few men, chatted by the refreshments with her friends, and even snuck a few pastries when no one was looking. And now, she found the pianoforte unaccompanied. Looking to her right and left, she noted the hallway was empty and decided this would be the perfect time to play a soft melody. She didn’t always want to show off for the Ton. Didn’t want to share her talents at her mother’s behest. Sometimes she just wanted to play a song for herself. 

So she walked over to the piano and sat down, once again looking around to make sure she was completely alone, and then began to play. Nothing incredible, nothing original. Just a sweet melody, one that she had tucked away in the back of her mind from years of practice. It was easy, and familiar, so familiar she could close her eyes and hit all the notes perfectly. Her fingers remember exactly which key to hit when.

As the song came to a close, Gwendolyn took a deep breath before opening her eyes. When she did, she was surprised to see she was no longer alone in the room. Standing up abruptly, the redhead felt incredibly awkward as she was now unaware what to do with her hands. She decided to hold them behind her back. “Mr. Smeethington, correct?” She asked. The two had been seated next to teach other at dinner, and she was sure that was his name. “I am so sorry, I thought I was alone.” @benedictsmeethington​ 

༻  ★  ☆  ★  ☆  ★  ༺

Benedict had been blessed during that evening’s dinner.

Not only had he been treated to a meal that made every single dish that he’d had thus far in his young life pale in comparison, but he had been seated next to a stunning redhead for all courses. While they hadn’t yet conversed on their own, Ben had made sure to observe her and chime in for a few group conversations over dinner, carefully working to learn more about her in the event that the universe tossed them together again.

Blissfully, the universe had moved quickly.

Ben had excused himself from the ballroom in order to relieve himself, but had become a little turned around on his way back. He had assumed that following the music floating down the hall would lead him back to the large gathering, but instead it had led him to a room that had a sole occupant.

Her.

Miss Gwendolyn... Something.

It had almost felt like he was witnessing something private as he stood there and let himself enjoy the music, the sounds of the pianoforte (right?) soothing him in ways that he didn’t fully understand thanks to the near complete lack of music in his childhood. When the song came to its natural end, Ben was almost sad to hear the silence come across the room.

But then he was given the opportunity to have a private moment with a beautiful redhead and that sadness was deserted instantly.

“No, no. I apologize for intruding,” he spoke up, thankful that she had spotted him and reached out first. He hadn’t yet managed to formulate the proper compliment that the moment demanded. “I can excuse myself, if you wish. I just-yes, Smeethington. May I ask a question that could lead you to believe me rather foolish? Do all Auradonians play so beautifully or are you particularly skilled?”