#red quee

[binary-bfs]

ok but why do I barely see anybody talking about the new series Mary and George coming out soon where Nicholas’s character, a duke, sleeps with 14 people throughout the show and tries to seduce a king??? and the fact that this is based on a true story?? oh you better believe I will be SEATED for this👏

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Chapter 11: My Favourite Work of Art

(Moodboard by @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter summary: Work stresses and the pressures of an impending public talk threaten to derail Ben and Lyd's attempts to do Valentine's Day their way, while news spreads of their romance among the student body.

Word Count: 10k (I'm...sorry?)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (series and chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; Ben and Lydia are contemporaries; canon is not a thing here; slow burn; idiots to lovers; smut; fingering; oral sex; safe PiV sex; enthusiastic consent; strong language; alcohol consumption; praise kink; self-esteem issues; body and weight insecurity; office sex; students thinking people in their 40s are 'old' (they aren't); some references to previous emotional abuse; references to stress; some minor angst; fluff central and I'm loving it

A/N (further notes at the end of the chapter):

The title for this chapter comes from Chet Baker's 'My Funny Valentine'.

Thank you to everyone who's shown so much love for this pair so far - every comment, reblog, like, interaction, ask is just a joy to me.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Chapter 10 - Chapter 12

Cross-posting to AO3 (and if you're reading on there, too, and yelling along in the comments - I love you, thank you!)

@julesonrecord and @lunapascal - thank you, extended family members of the dorksicles.

Taglist:

@lunapascal , @julesonrecord , @tessa-quayle , @vermillionwinter , @iamskyereads , @tieronecrush , @perennialdoll247 , @love-the-abyss , @imaswellkid , @intheorangebedroom , @javierisms , @fuckyeahdindjarin , @littlemisspascal , @khindahra , @pedrostories , @readingiskeepingmegoing , @rhoorl , @red-red-rogue , @princessanglophile , @katareyoudrilling @survivingandenduring , @trulybetty @fictionismyreality @sunnywithachanceofjavi , @joeldjarin , @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse

“Okay - dirty gin martini for Lyd, whiskey sour for Evan, and for me, a negroni sbagliato -”

Ani pauses, looking expectantly at you and Evan.

In unison, you look at each other and pronounce: “with Prosecco in it”, in your sultriest tones, before giggling as Ani settles back into their dark red leather chair, drink in hand. 

Evan raises his crystal-cut tumbler. “To us. And to our people.”

“Our people?” Ani arches an eyebrow.

“David, Cass…” He turns in your direction. “And of course, the other half of dorkdom’s greatest love story: Benjamin.”

You roll your eyes, raise your glass, and take a sip of the ice cold cocktail. “To our lovely people.”

Ani and Evan sip their drinks contentedly. You’d tried to meet for a drink every week or so, schedules permitting, since you came to Barrow, and Evan had been adamant that the routine would continue now that you were, in his words, “sickeningly loved-up”. 

“Speaking of our lovely people,” Evan asks, reclining in his chair, “what are your V-Day plans?”

Ani scoffs audibly. “V-Day. Fuck, Ev. Me and Cass are going to a nice hotel for the weekend at the end of February, and I’m sending her one of those ridiculous heart-shaped cookies on the day, iced with the message Fuck Heteronormative Capitalism.” They trace their hand through the air, as if illustrating the inscription. Then, a little more quietly: “And, uh, a nice bouquet of her favourite flowers, obviously.”

Evan sighs happily. “I knew you were a romantic, Ani Sen. We’re sending flowers too - David said some shit about how we’re appropriating and queering the established gestures of heteronormative romance, but I know he just wants some cool blooms in his apartment.” 

“Everyone loves getting flowers,” you add. “I bet even the most performatively straight dude wouldn’t say no to a really nice hand-tied arrangement.”

You become very aware that both Evan and Ani have trained their gazes on you. 

“And what, pray, has love’s young dream cooked up for the great festival of lurrrrrve?” Evan rolls his rs with relish. 

“Uh…” You stare at the olive in your glass and take a fortifying sip of your martini.

“We haven’t really talked about it yet. It’s just been so busy and stressful lately - for Ben especially, but for me too. I’ve got that big public talk at the end of next week, you know, and he’s got that big submission to the college board about the diversity and inclusion plan, and that’s due on 15 February, of all days, and it’s hard, because it’s all still so new and so lovely, and we’re having such a gorgeous time, and we love each other so much and we’re trying not to be stressed, but we kind of are, and yeah - yeah. I guess it just hasn’t been on our radar.”

Ani squeezes your hand gently. “Oh, babe. It’s okay, it’s not like it actually matters, right? If your relationship has to conform on one day, then you’ve got bigger problems. And you two are so happy. Even if a bit stressed. Right?”

You nod. “Really, really happy. Fuck, it’s just my overthinking shit again. Should we do something, is it bad if we don’t, is it too late to arrange something at this stage…”

Evan clears his throat. “Girl, you’re spiralling. Again. Look, I’m sorry. Please don’t feel you have to do something just because of me asking.” He sips his whiskey sour as you smile over at him. 

“I am making him a gift, though.”

Evan and Ani wheel around in their seats dramatically. 

“OH FUCK YOU MISS OH NO PLANS SO STRESSED OH DON’T MIND ME JUST MAKING A GIFT!” Ani shrieks.

You lean over in your seat, laughing hard, grateful for all the love in your life here: the warm, platonic love of your friends as well as the extraordinary, unique love you shared with Ben. 

Deep down, though, you know you should probably ask him about Valentine’s Day. Just in case.

“Hi baby, it’s me!”

You close Ben’s front door behind you and drop the key he’d given you on the hall table. The house seems oddly quiet. It wasn’t particularly late, and you could see the lamps were on in the front room, so you assumed he was up. You take off your coat, hang it up, and wander in the direction of the living room.

Since getting together properly - becoming an “us”, as you’d said that cold Saturday morning a month before - you had not spent a night apart. Within a week, he had a drawer at your place and you had one at his; there were two toothbrushes in each of your bathrooms, now; and while you still valued having your own place, for now, you had begun to settle into a kind of loving domesticity stretched across two locations. 

If you’d been twenty years younger, this would have been moving worryingly fast. Now, though, it felt right in every way. You’d both been through enough to know what you wanted, and to know how you felt about each other. Even in the midst of a stressful time, each passing day only deepened the love that was still so new. Each tiny act of love, however practical or mundane, strengthened the bond between you. 

An example: Ben was astonished when, one evening at your place when you realised he’d not only removed your laundry from the dryer but carefully folded it and placed it in the basket, ready for you to put away (he still didn’t really know where everything went), you’d thrown yourself at him for a huge hug, tears in your eyes. 

“I just folded your laundry, baby, it’s not a big thing! Why are you crying?”

You looked at him, slightly blurry through your tearful gaze, thinking about what you could say to explain. That you’d spent over a decade in a relationship where your partner wouldn’t even think of taking your laundry out of the dryer, let alone folding it and neatly leaving it for you to put away. That you’d become so attuned to a partner doing absolutely nothing to make your life better or easier that you had come to see even the tiniest gesture as a major one. 

Instead, you’d leaned in and kissed Ben softly on the mouth. “I’m crying because I’m so happy. Because you’re the kindest, most loving man I’ve ever met. And you love me.”

You open the door into the living room now, slightly mellow after your martini, and discover Ben sitting up, asleep on the couch: glasses askew, papers and notes for the diversity initiative scattered around his sleeping form, and (somehow, miraculously) his laptop still safely on his knees, his broad hands resting lightly on the keyboard. 

Your heart melts at the sight. You tiptoe carefully over towards him, afraid of startling him and sending the laptop flying. 

“Ben?” you whisper, very gently stroking the crown of his head before lifting his laptop onto the coffee table. “Hey. It’s me.”

He blinks awake and his eyes pop open as he turns and sees you, smiling warmly at the sight. “Lyddie. Hi, darling. Shit… was I asleep?”

You sit beside him on the arm of the couch, not wanting to disturb the random spread of paperwork, and feel his arm wrap around your waist. “You were. Fuck, baby, you’re working too hard on this.”

He shakes his head drowsily, rummaging around for his notes and looking for his laptop. “It has to be perfect.” 

You put a hand on his, to still his movements. “No such thing. And even if there was, it won’t be perfect if you’re writing it half-asleep, Ben.” You look in the direction of the kitchen. “Did you at least eat?”

He nods and smiles cheekily. “I did, but only because some sexy art historian came over last night and brought enough lasagne to feed the five thousand. Or at least, to feed two academics for a couple of nights.”

“Sexy, huh?” You lean closer to him, admiring the line of his neck as he looks up at you, eyes scanning your upper body for a moment before meeting yours again. “Well, now that I know you’re fed and watered…why don’t you put away the work for tonight and take a sexy art historian to bed?”

Ben trails his hand under your sleep shirt, gently stroking the soft flesh of your breast with his thumb as you kiss languidly, your hand reaching into his boxers. 

He shifts on top of you as you tug down his shorts and hitch up your knees. You feel him resting hard and heavy on your soft belly as he continues to kiss you, one hand caressing your face with the greatest care. 

But it’s pretty obvious he’s fighting sleep. His eyelids are heavy, he struggles to keep his eyes open, and when they’re closed - even as he kisses you - you feel like he might just nod off there and then. No one wants their boyfriend to fall asleep on top of them, of course - but he’s got a good excuse. And he’s trying so valiantly to stay awake that your heart swells with affection. 

“Baby,” you murmur. “Baby?”

“Mmmmmfh?”

“Baby, look at me.”

His beautiful dark eyes barely peek at you from under his heavy lids, and you can’t help but giggle. 

“Darling, you’re nodding off. You need to sleep, love.”

Ben looks disappointed in himself, even as he shifts his body off you and back to his side of the bed. “I’m so sorry, Lyd. I shouldn’t be falling asleep on you like that, that’s not fair.”

You turn to face him and reach for his hand. “Ben, you were asleep on the fucking couch at 9.30pm. You’re getting up really early to go to work on the project. It has nothing to do with me or you or what we feel for each other.” You kiss him softly. “You’re just really overworked.”

He trails his long fingers over your hip. “Well…maybe. But I want you, darling. You know that, right?”

You nod. “Of course I do. And you can show me tomorrow, hmmm? So get a good night’s sleep. You’ll need it.” 

He grabs you with a growl and pulls you in to him, holding you close as you squeal delightedly. “You too, baby. I’m a man of my word.”

“And I’m a woman of mine.”

The two of you blink awake at 6am after a blissfully uninterrupted night of sleep, feeling thoroughly restored. 

“My lovely girl.”

“My handsome boy.”

A lazy kiss and cuddle soon becomes more urgent: hands roaming under each other’s nightclothes, seeking to discard them as quickly as possible; soft giggles as your head gets stuck in your sleep shirt turning to gentle sighs of pleasure as he dips his clever fingers between your legs; low moans from him as you straddle his body and take him inside you; cries of mutual pleasure as you come in quick succession. 

You turn your heads to face each other as you flop back onto the bed, sweating, sated, and wide awake. Ben looks at his phone. 

“Not bad going for quarter to 7 in the morning, huh?”

You laugh out loud, turning to rest a hand on his tummy. “What’s that Dusty Springfield song?” You sing lightly: “Just a little lovin’/Early in the morning/Beats a cup of coffee/For starting off the day”

Ben is staring at you like you’re a marvel. “Well, shit. You really can sing. Is there anything you can’t do?”

You flash him a sceptical look. “If I start listing all those things, we’ll be here all week. But thank you.”

He reaches over and pulls you to him for another cuddle. 

“Hey, Ben?” you ask, head resting on his shoulder. “Do you…do you want to, like, do something, for Valentine’s? I understand if it’s not your thing, I’m not a fan of the cheesy stuff but I thought -”

“Fuck. I got you a - no, never mind what I got you. But I completely forgot about making actual plans.” He traces a line along your shoulder. “Other than spending time with you, of course.”

“You know that’s fine with me, love.”

He shakes his head lightly. “No, we should at least go for dinner.” He kisses your forehead, nose pressing against your scalp. “It’s been a very long time since I had a Valentine.” 

Later that morning, you pop your head into the faculty office, where Susan is typing rapidly and humming contentedly to herself. 

“Hi, Susan. You don’t happen to know what room Ben’s in for his ten o’clock lecture, do you?”

She looks up at you and beams, a dreamy look in her eyes. “I remember this phase with Nick. Couldn’t stay away from each other.”

“Well, uh, not quite…” You hold up the dark blue hardcover notebook in your right hand. “He needs this for the session and I’m not sure if he knows he left it at home. I’d like to get there before the lecture starts, so if you know the room…?”

She gives her head a little shake, as if snapping herself out of her reverie, and with a few clicks of her mouse brings up the master timetable. “Okay… yep. Aubyn Building, room 015 - that’s the small-ish lecture theatre on the ground floor.” You thank her and are about to dash off when she calls you back. 

Susan’s smile has become slightly menacing as she stares you down. “We’re all so happy for the two of you. But don’t you dare hurt that lovely man.” 

You gulp audibly. “I promise I won’t. Um…yeah. See you later, Susan.”

You arrive at the lecture room with five minutes to spare, and most of the students are already sitting in the tiered rows, chattering brightly to each other as they whip out their laptops and tablets to take notes (or, let’s face it, do anything but take notes). Ben, dressed in a chartreuse green sweater with the collar of his white button-down shirt just visible, is standing at the podium and staring into his messenger bag with a puzzled expression. Though the lecture theatre is not particularly large, he’s wearing one of the radio mics available in the bigger teaching rooms, to ensure his voice will carry without strain. 

You bounce quickly down the steps in your denim pinafore dress and floral-print blouse, brandishing the notebook. “Looking for something?” You keep your voice low, not wanting to make a fuss in front of Ben’s entire sophomore option class. 

He raises his head and turns, smiling in surprise and delight. “I was starting to wonder if it had fallen out on the way over here this morning,” he says, taking the notebook and looking at it like it’s a Shakespeare First Folio. “I’d have been in trouble without this today.”

You shrug. “You’d have been fine, you know this stuff inside and out. But I remember you making revisions to the lecture in the notebook, so I’m glad I got it to you in time. See you later.” You turn and walk back towards the stairs to the exit.

“Thanks baby, love you.” Ben’s tone is casual, because telling you he loves you is now a kind of reflex for him, and vice versa. 

Except right now, he’s got a radio mic on, and his sweet, nonchalant declaration of love has just been broadcast to the entire lecture theatre. You’ve never seen a classroom full of chatty students fall silent quite so quickly before. 

You try to look back as subtly as possible. He’s flushed pink at the podium, the colour stark against the white of his collar and the green of his sweater, eyes wide and panicked behind his glasses as he stammers and stutters. All the while, the students swivel their heads looking at the two of you, whispers and giggles starting to build in their ranks.

“It’s okay!” you mouth to him. “See you later!”

The eyes of the students bore into you as you make your way towards the classroom door, trying desperately to avoid any accidental eye contact. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a handful who are also taking your class this semester - some of whom you’ll see for a seminar in just two hours’ time. 

Oh, fuck.

As you walk back to your building you try to reason with yourself. It’s not like you’re hiding your relationship, even if you’re not going around broadcasting your feelings for each other to all and sundry, and it’s not inappropriate or against the rules for you to be together. The students would probably have worked it out at some point. Hell, you got the feeling some of them already thought you were together. And it’s not like Ben had uttered something graphic or overly intimate, right?

All he said was he loves you. In front of a whole class of students. Who heard every word. 

You buy a coffee from the little cart outside the library and try to reassure yourself. “It’s fine,” you think to yourself. “They’ll forget it quickly and move on to the next drama.” 

Your seminar with the sophomores has been reassuringly drama-free thus far, save for some knowing glances from the students who’d been in Ben’s lecture earlier that morning. The students are working in small groups on exercises you’ve set around image analysis, using iPads to zoom in on a selection of visual sources and referring back to the set text for that week as they put together their commentary. 

You glance out the glass-panelled door of the classroom, just in time to make eye contact, unexpectedly, with Ben as he moves down the hallway. He grins at you, and your face immediately breaks into a smile. 

“Omigoooood, they’re so fuckin cute!” It’s not clear if the student realised quite how loud they were being, or whether they meant for you to hear, but their whispered comment immediately attracts your attention. They flush and sink down a little in their seat, looking like they might be about to burst into tears. “I’m so sorry Lydia, I didn’t mean…”

You bite your lip and think for a moment, folding your arms as you bring yourself to sit on the desk at the top of the room. “Y’know what? Get it out of your systems.”

The students stare at you, open-mouthed. “You mean…?”

“I mean: get it out of your systems, in whatever way you want. Within reason and appropriate personal boundaries. But only if you promise to focus on the sources afterwards, okay?”

They nod, looking at each other as if to confirm that they’re not being set up. One girl shyly raises her hand. “Um…so are you and professor Morales…”

“We are a couple, yes. Next quest-“

The babble from the students drowns you out. 

Awwwwwwww she’s so fuckin cute I mean of course he would wanna be with her dude he was never with Professor Arden what the fuck dude girl don’t get upset you were never gonna get with a professor I don’t care what you read in stories I thought they were together already do you think they’re getting married omg what if they have babies no don’t be silly they’re probably too old it’s just so nice that old people can fall in love 

At the sound of “old people” you call a halt. “Alright, I think you’ve got it out of your system. Fair?”

A student near the back lifts their hand. “You’re happy, though, right? You look happy.” 

You nod and smile. “Yeah, I’m happy. We’re happy. Okay, so, if we return to what Hall says he-“

Another hand. “Does this mean you’re gonna stay at Barrow?”

You feel your heart sink and you try to keep a bright expression on your face. “Haven’t got that far yet.”

A girl near the front looks panic-stricken. “Oh my god. Is Professor Ben gonna leave with you?!” Her classmates look equally stressed out by the thought, looking at you as if you’re about to take away their favourite pet. 

“I… no? I don’t…uh…” You try valiantly to suppress the panic building in your own chest. “Like I said. Haven’t got that far, not for you to worry about. Okay?”

They nod, but eye you suspiciously for the rest of the session.

Ben is packing up his things when you knock on his office door later that evening, ready to go home. It’s his busiest day in the week and you haven’t even been able to meet for lunch or a quick coffee. He looks up from his bag, smiles at you, and then immediately flushes pink again. 

“I’m so, so sorry about earlier, Lyddie, I completely forgot where we were and then the radio mic and oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so-“

You stop his anxious train of thought with a little kiss to the lips. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been fretting over that all day?”

He shrugs, but his eyes answer in the affirmative. You move in for a little hug. 

“Darling, it’s fine. They’d have found out sooner or later, even if I wasn’t quite expecting a mass announcement to your option class.”

“I know, but… fuck. You know what students are like.” He closes the flap on his bag and reaches for his woollen coat and sky-blue scarf, hanging on the coatstand. “Evan told me that - and I quote - our ‘shenans’ had completely derailed his queer theory workshop group, because they wouldn’t - and I quote again - ‘shut the fuck up about it’.”

He switches off his desk lamp and you both move into the hallway, Ben turning back to lock his door. You stroll down the corridor and around the corner towards the stairs that lead to the main entrance.

“I should probably warn you,” you offer, “that you might hear some rumours about you leaving.”

He turns abruptly, looking completely lost. 

“Remember you walked past my classroom today? Well, my seminar group asked me if I was staying, because of us. I said I didn’t know…and then one of them asked if you were going to leave when my year was done.”

His eyes widen. 

“And you said…?”

You have no idea if your answer is what he would have wanted you to say to them. 

“And I said no, I don’t know, haven’t got there yet, etc.” You exhale. “I just worried that you might hear it back once it’s been filtered through the student rumour mill a few times.”

Ben reaches for your hand as you reach the door of the building, giving it a squeeze. He’s quieter, not saying much but continuing to hold your hand as you walk with him towards the staff secure bike shelter, where he unlocks his bicycle and pops his messenger bag in one of the panniers on the back.

“Oh!” he exclaims as he finishes affixing his bike lights, “I do have some good news.”

You raise your eyebrows expectantly. 

“Lino’s had ONE table left on Valentine’s Day. Now, admittedly it’s at 5pm but if you’re okay with an early dinner…”

“Early dinner means more time at home with you for, um, dessert?”

He rolls his eyes, smiles, and gives you a soft kiss before putting on his bike helmet. Errant curls stick up here and there through the vents in the blue plastic and you melt all over again. 

“I’ll see you at your place? Hope you’re ready for my famous enchiladas!”

You nod and wave before turning in the opposite direction towards the pedestrian route, leading off campus and towards your street. 

As you walk, you find it difficult to shake off the memory of how quiet he had become after you told him about the students and their questions. Would he have answered them differently? 

Regardless of how happy and comfortable and forever your relationship feels right now, you know deep down it’s far too early to talk about the future in that much detail. You don’t want him to think you’re asking him to make a call - make a commitment - that he’s probably still a long way off even thinking about.

You also know, though, that there’s an invisible countdown to the day you’ll need to have the conversation, and that it started running the moment you first kissed. 

“Lyddie? You ready? Gotta go, my love.”

Ben calls to you from your living room. You’re standing in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, stomach twisting with nerves ahead of your public lecture, and you wish to God you looked…well, better. 

Your slides are prepped. Your notes are ready. You’ve run through the talk’s outline with Ani as well as Ben. “You got this,” you murmur to yourself, and try to suppress the voice that wants to chime in with a jibe about your body, your grey hairs, your wrinkles. 

You blot your lipstick and emerge into the living room. “Okay, let’s go.”

Ben turns, mouth slightly open, and raises his eyebrows as his gaze takes you in from head to toe. 

You tend to wear skirts and dresses when you teach. But for this talk, for whatever reason, you’ve pulled out a scarlet red pantsuit, high-waisted pants cut slim to the leg and tapering to end just above the ankle, jacket with wide lapels and long enough to end just below your ass. Underneath, a vintage-style cream satin blouse, buttoned to the neck and a black velvet ribbon tied under the collar in place of a necktie. 

Black velvet pumps on your feet, oversized brass earrings, a vintage brooch your grandmother had given you on your lapel, and a slick of Lady Danger across your mouth. 

He runs a thumb over his lower lip. 

“Oh, god, it’s shit, isn’t it? I should have known I couldn’t get away with this, not with my fat arse and stupid tummy and ugh, it’s like I don’t realise how shit I actually look until -”

“LYD!”

You take a step back. Ben didn’t yell, exactly, but you’ve never heard him speak so firmly to you. 

His face softens and he moves to hug you. “Aw, god, Lyd, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just - please stop picking holes in yourself. Please. You do it so often, it’s like an involuntary response.” 

He kisses the top of your head. “I’d never lie to you, Lydia. So believe me when I say: you look fucking incredible in that.”

You giggle, head resting against his chest. “You’re just saying that.”

He breaks away, meets your gaze, and sighs. “I said I don’t lie. And I say you look…” his eyes flit up and down your body appreciatively. “You look perfect. Smart, and stylish, and so goddamned sexy I don’t know how I’m going to get through watching you in that for an hour.”

You burst out laughing. “Alright, darling man. You’ve convinced me. ALLONS-Y!”

You steal a glance at your watch as you reach the last paragraph of your paper. For once in your life, you’ve got your timing spot on. 

“To bring this talk to a close, let’s situate these visual representations of revolutionary military masculinities across painting and print can help to shift our understanding of what it meant to literally embody the values of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic empire.” 

The final slide. The final points. A confident “Thank you.” And, to your delight, sustained applause in the packed lecture theatre. You look up towards the back rows, dead centre, where Ben, Ani, Evan, Jen, and David had said they’d be sitting - far enough away from the front so that you won’t see them and get distracted, but within a clear line of sight from the podium in case you panic and need some reassurance. 

Ani is pumping their fist in the air, whooping and hollering. Evan is applauding hard, mouthing “YES, GIRL!”

Ben isn’t taking his eyes off you, a huge smile on his face as he applauds and applauds, not showing any intention of stopping. He looks…proud. You look up at him, shrugging and mouthing the words “Was it okay?”

He nods enthusiastically, and mouths back: “You’re fucking amazing.”

When the questions and discussion are over, and the majority of the audience have filed out of the theatre, Ani and Evan come down to the rostrum to invite you and Ben for drinks to celebrate what Evan was calling “your triumph.” 

“I’ll even buy you champagne,” he promises, hugging you tightly. “Well. Maybe one glass. Or two glasses. I’m not made of money.”

“I am there. I can think of nothing better than a glass of champagne right now.” 

Ani grins. “Hey, Lyd? We’ll be at the Lake Bar in the hotel. You guys can just follow us whenever, you probably need to leave stuff in your office anyway. Sound good?”

You turn back to Ani and nod. “Sounds very good. The Lake Bar! Fancy pants.”

The Lake Bar is tiny but formal, the only bar in Barrow’s only hotel and certainly not your usual haunt for drinks with friends. It’s also probably the only place you could get champagne for many miles.

“Text me when you guys are heading out, okay?” 

You nod as they walk up the steps of the lecture theatre and begin to pack up your notes. It’s just the two of you, at last.  

“You okay there, Benjamin? I’m just going to leave this stuff in my office, and then we can -“

Before you can finish your sentence, he’s cupping your face in his big hands and kissing you like a man off to war. You reciprocate, opening your lips gladly when his tongue sweeps over them and moaning softly into his mouth. You can feel the shiver of pleasure that runs through him.

You break away, his hand stroking your cheek affectionately. You reach out to wipe the traces of your lipstick off his mouth.

“So it was okay, then?”

“Yeah, it was okay, I guess.” He laughs, warm and deep, and takes hold of your hand, leading the way quickly up and out of the theatre and in the direction of your office. You giggle as you try to keep up, Ben looking back at you every so often with a huge smile on his face.

You turn on your desk lamp, shuck off your tote bag full of notes, and exhale, stretching your arms and rolling your shoulders. “Fuck, I’m so relieved that’s done. Can I have a congratulatory hug?”

Ben drops his coat on the spare chair and wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your hands feel the stretch of the cotton plaid of his shirt against his broad back, and the sensation goes straight to your core. 

“I’m so proud of you, Lyddie,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking amazing. Watching you do your thing up there, so smart and funny and bright and engaging and -”

You can feel his cock hardening against you, even through his dark jeans. You raise an eyebrow and lean back to look at Ben.

“Um… does the sight of me in full academic flow do it for you, Professor?”

He blushes a little and gives you a flash of his most puppy-dog expression, brown eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Y’know, I think it does. Especially in this outfit. Fuck, you look so good.”

He tilts his head, and the sensation of his soft mouth and coarse beard against the delicate skin of your neck makes you sigh with pleasure. 

“Tell me.”

He chuckles lightly as he continues to ghost kisses against your throat. “It’s fucking sexy watching your mind work like that,” he says, voice low and warm, as your hands move up his chest to start loosening his tie. “Such an intelligent, gorgeous girl.”

His praise makes your cunt ache for him. You perch on the edge of your desk, the position so familiar from the night of the holiday party a couple of months before, and grab a tissue to wipe off what remains of your lipstick before kissing him hard as you reach for his waistband. He holds you up with one broad hand at your back, as he hastily works your blouse open with the other. 

Ben’s about to slip his fingers under your waistband when this fantasy scenario made real is abruptly interrupted by a cheery, southern English voice greeting you. 

“Hiya!”

“What the FUCK?” Ben swivels around, holding an arm across your chest in a chivalrous attempt at giving you privacy, while trying to buckle his belt with the other. You do up your blouse as best you can and thank the universe that you hadn’t got as far as shedding your pants yet. 

“I thought you’d locked the door,” you mutter, as you stand up and Ben shifts behind you so he can do up his waistband. 

“I thought YOU had locked the door.”

To your astonishment, though, the owner of the cheery English voice doesn’t seem to have realised that he’s interrupted anything, or noticed your hasty efforts to make yourselves decent. 

In fact, he’s kept up a stream of consciousness chatter since he came into your office, oblivious to your and Ben’s panic. When you finally direct your attention to him he’s saying something about Napoleon and pyramids while searching for something in the brown satchel he’s wearing across his body. 

“I…hi?” He pulls out an iPad covered in what look like stickers depicting Egyptian deities and looks up at you, mouth slightly open. 

“Hi. I’m sorry, can you repeat all that, please? We…I mean, I didn’t catch a lot of it. Who - who are you, again?”

The man gives you a lopsided smile. He’s small, angular, and dark, wavy hair parted at the side and falling untidily over his eyes. There’s what can only be described as an aura of chaos surrounding him. 

“I’m Steven!” He seems surprised that he’s having to introduce himself. “I’m a postdoctoral fellow in archaeology - well, now, actually I’m an Egyptologist by trade, in point of fact, but you don’t have an Egyptology department so I’m in archaeology, haha.” He steps towards you, flipping open the cover of his iPad. “I was at your talk just now - really good by the way, really liked some of the paintings you had in the slides - and I thought blimey, wonder if she’s got thoughts on Denon’s Description of Egypt, and then I thought oh well Steven you’ve got it on your iPad don’t you? And I said right well I bet she’d like to talk about that and I looked up your office and-”

Ben has moved to the door of your office and looks pointedly at you over Steven’s head as the postdoc swipes frantically through his files, trying to locate the book in question. “Professor? I’ll be in my office, whenever you’re finished with, um, Steven.”

“Aha! Here it is in all its glory.” Steven has found the digitised copy of the huge, early nineteenth-century study of Egypt, undertaken to document the expedition led by Napoleon in the late 1790s. You smile politely and shrug in Ben’s direction as he sighs and heads in the direction of his office. 

You’d managed to keep your chat to a minimum, in part by promising to meet Steven during your office hours that coming week. A familiar silhouette appears at your open door.

“You finished talking Egyptology, Lyd?” Ben leans against the doorframe. 

“I am. He’s a sweet kid, really. I mean, I don’t think he’s that young, but…” You give your head a little shake, as if resetting yourself. “Anyway. Let’s go. I’m surprised Evan hasn’t left us some furious voice notes.”

Ben steps into your office, shutting the door very carefully behind him and swiping the air to dismiss the idea as he strides towards you. “Pfffft. They’ll be alright, they’re in a bar.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, twirling the curls at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “Darling, we’re already running very late…”

“So?” He guides you back to sit on the edge of your desk and resumes his trail of kisses down the side of your neck. 

“So…” You pull him close to you, fingers hooked inside his waistband, and moan as his hands rove up your body, grabbing handfuls of you through the silk of your blouse. 

He quirks an eyebrow and smiles, looking down at your fingers already working to undo his belt buckle. “You want to stop, Lyd, and we’ll stop. Do you want to stop?”

You lean in and kiss him as you discard your suit jacket, push yourself further back on the desk, and guide his hands under your own waistband.  

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

“How many drinks have we had now? Two?!” Jen looks at her phone and shakes her head. “I’m starting to worry.”

“I’m not,” Evan mutters darkly over the rim of his glass. “I’m gonna win our bet, Jennykins.” He shifts his gaze towards the door of the hotel bar. “Aha! Right on cue.”

He leads the group in a slow, sardonic hand-clap as you and Ben walk sheepishly over to your table, apologising profusely as you take off your coats and hats. 

“Guys, I’m so sorry!” You settle into a cosy leather chair beside Jen. “A postdoc called to my office to talk about the Egyptian campaign and…”

Jen looks at you, then at Ani, who looks at David, who looks at Evan, who casts an appraising eye over Ben. 

“Well, I’ll take that twenty bucks now, Jennifer. And Benjamin? You owe each of us a drink.”

“Me?” Ben looks incredulous. “Why?!”

Jen pats her old friend’s arm and shakes her head sympathetically. “Hon, your shirt isn't tucked in properly and Lydia seems to have lost her little necktie. Be real.”

Ben’s ears turn a deep pink as he stands up and fishes for his wallet.

He’s up very early on Valentine’s Day, the looming deadline for his report and funding application pulling him, reluctantly, out of your arms and your bed. 

You stir under the comforter, propping yourself up to watch him dress. You bite your lip as he pulls on his white undervest, admiring the way the ribbed cotton fabric fits so beautifully over the solid breadth of his torso and tummy. He slips on a pale blue shirt, leaving it open as he looks for his pants. 

You can’t help yourself. “Ooof.”

Ben turns around as he grabs his pants, and quirks a smile at you. “Ooof?”

“Just like what I see, that’s all. Ooof.”

He grins as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “I look forward to hearing more about this later, Lyddie.”

You reach around and wrap your arms around his middle, kissing the back of his neck. “Happy Valentine’s, darling.”

In truth, you didn’t mind the extra couple of early morning hours on your own, as it gave you time to finish and wrap Ben’s gift before heading to work. You’re brushing your teeth when you hear your door buzzer sound. 

“Delivery for, uh, Lydia?” It’s barely 9am on Valentine’s Day and the delivery guy already sounds like he’s in the throes of an existential crisis. 

You run down to the main door and sign for your delivery: a perfect bouquet of palest pink camellias, wrapped in brown paper. You smile as you inhale their scent, and immediately put them in a vase. 

LYDIA: Thank you for the flowers, love. They’re perfect. And camellias! You really didn’t have to.

BEN: No flowers for my girl on Valentine’s? Who do you think I am?!😉

BEN: (I read an article about how environmentally-unfriendly roses are at this time of year and they suggested camellias. I’m so glad you like them.)

LYDIA: I love them. And I love you.

Before you leave for work, you take one camellia bloom from the vase and cut it slightly shorter. You wrap the stem in moist paper towels, then in plastic wrap, and place it carefully in a ziploc bag to bring to your office.

“Check her out. Fuck, I love her.”

Over coffee, Ani is showing you photos they’ve got from Cass, who received her enormous Fuck Heteronormative Capitalism cookie bright and early that morning. In one, she’s holding up the heart-shaped biscuit triumphantly; in another, she’s snapped it in half with a raging expression; and finally, there’s one of her eating an enormous chunk of it, face slightly smeared with half-melted chocolate chips and frosting. 

“Aww!”

Ani stares at you. “What?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever actually said that in front of me.” You smile gently. “I’m so happy for you two. Looks like Valentine’s really is changing you, huh…”

“You shut the fuck up right now or I will lick that ridiculous cupcake you’ve got.”

They’re pointing aggressively at the college canteen’s special baked offering for the big day, a red velvet cupcake topped with an extraordinary amount of frosting and covered in edible red glitter.

You chuckle and stick a finger in the frosting, picking up a generous amount before popping it in your mouth. “Aha! Touché.” Your phone lights up with an incoming call from Ben, and you swipe to answer with your clean hand.

“Hi, love! You okay? You must be really up against it if you can’t even come for coffee…”

“Uh… yeah. It’s…yeah.”

You get up from your seat, mouthing to Ani that you’ll be back, and move into the hallway. “Ben? What’s wrong?”

He exhales. “They’ve asked for another section to be added to the proposal by tomorrow. I thought I could get it out of the way quickly but then I realised it needed more data and I’m trying to find that and put the details in and it’s just complicated and I dunno it’s not really hanging together and -”

“Ben? Breathe.”

He inhales and exhales slowly. His voice is quiet and hesitant.

“I don’t think I can get it done by five, Lyd. I’m - fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so disappointed in myself, and I’ll try so hard to make this up to you, I promise.”

You lean against the wall as a group of chattering students ambles past. “Darling. There’s nothing to make up to me, nothing at all. We’ll have dinner at the weekend or something, I’ll see you later tonight, it’ll be perfect.” 

He’s silent for a moment, and you can almost feel his disappointment through the phone.

“Ben? Honestly, I don’t mind.”

He sighs. “Okay. I love you very much, you know?” 

“I do. And I love you very much too. I’ll pop by with some coffee later, okay?”

You hang up and rejoin Ani in the staff lounge. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah…” You’re thinking, trying to formulate a plan. “Hey - what are you doing around five this evening?”

The desk light is on in Ben’s office when you call by later that evening, but there’s no sign of him. You peer through the glass panel, and there he is: sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of his desk, printed-out drafts of the various sections of the proposal spread out in front of him and a pot of coloured highlighter markers to hand. 

His tie is loosened, top collar buttons undone, and his brown-framed glasses have fallen forward on his nose. From the looks of things, he’s been running his hands through his hair a lot, curls standing on end and falling this way and that, the light catching the streaks of silver that pepper his dark hair. 

He looks tired, but he breaks into a wide smile when he sees you and pushes himself up to standing as you enter the room. You place the large insulated bag and jute grocery tote you’ve been carrying on a chair and he wraps you in a warm, tight hug. 

“Is it weird that I really needed this hug?” he mumbles into the crown of your head. 

You smile and breathe in his familiar scent: more top notes of coffee today, the spicy undertone of his cologne, the clean smell of his shower gel - your shower gel, actually - and the hints of paper and pencils that seem to be part of his olfactory essence. 

“Not weird at all.” You pull away and look at him, gently caressing the side of his face. “I hope you’re hungry, by the way.”

Ben looks puzzled as you reach for the two bags, unzipping the insulated carrier and flooding the office with the delicious scent of good Italian food. 

“Lyddie, what the fuck is going on?”

You reach into the jute bag and retrieve two plates, two tumblers, some cutlery, and a bottle of red wine, placing them on Ben’s desk. 

“If Ben Morales can’t come to Lino’s, then Lino’s will come to Ben Morales. Okay if I move some of these papers, love?”

He nods, brow furrowed as he tries to make his overworked brain understand. You shift his work materials out of the way and lay out two table settings on one side of the desk. 

“Mixed mushroom fettucine, right?” Ben nods again, and you place the takeaway container on one of the plates. “And the carbonara for me, and some sides of green salad and that gorgeous focaccia they do… Okay! Sit.”

Ben pulls a chair up to the desk and opens the container of pasta, sighing happily at the aroma. You open the wine and pour a small glass each, and are ready to settle down to your own meal when you realise you’ve forgotten something. 

“Shit! Wait. Hold on.” You reach again into the tote bag and pull out two of your vintage candlesticks, cheap finds from thrift stores over the years, as well as a pack of tall white candles and some matches. Their soft light flickers against the walls of books, illuminating the lines and contours of your faces as you share this most idiosyncratic and intimate of Valentine’s dinners. 

Ben raises his glass, and you clink yours off it. “How… how?”

You shrug, twirling some linguine around your fork. “I promised Ani I’d cover for them at the next open day if they drove me over to Lino’s. The guys over there were only too glad to box up the food as a takeout - especially when they heard who it was for.”

Ben sips his wine. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you. And I still feel bad that our first Valentine’s Day plans were a bust.” 

You reach for his hand, rubbing your thumb over his tattoo. “You deserve everything good because you’re you. Our plans weren’t a bust - we’re still having dinner, aren’t we?” He smiles as he concedes the point. 

“And… first Valentine’s Day, hmmm?” You raise your eyebrows.

Ben looks into your eyes as he turns your hand over to hold it in his broad palm. There’s a voice inside him that wants to tell you straight out, here and now, that he wants this for the rest of his life, the rest of your lives: you, him, an “us”, forever. 

But there’s another, louder voice that tells him it’s still a bit too early for that. He doesn’t want to spook you, or make you think he’s asking for some kind of commitment so soon. 

So he just raises his eyebrows and grins at you. “First of many, I hope?”

His key turns in the door at about 10pm. You pop your head round the door of the living room as he’s walking down his hallway, coat and bag already discarded near the front door. 

“Is it…?”

“It is…done. And sent.” He does a series of air punches as he saunters towards you, and you wave your arms in the air with delight before leaning in for a kiss, taking his hands, and pulling him gently towards the living room.

“So - there are about two hours of Valentine’s Day left. Not that expressing and celebrating love is a one-day affair, of course.”

“Of course!” he nods with exaggerated seriousness, before his expression shifts to one of surprised delight when he sees the candles flickering around his living room, the bright fire that’s burning in the small stove, and the champagne on the table.

The soft light catches his sparkling eyes. “Oh, you’re too cute, Lyddie.”

“But if you’re too tired…”

He pulls you to him and kisses you hard, hands gliding down the silk fabric of the vintage robe you’re wearing and seeking out handfuls of you along the way.

“I will take that as a ‘no, I am not too tired, Lyd’.”

He arches an eyebrow and takes off his glasses, the lenses already a little fogged up. “Definitely not too tired.” He looks you up and down, admiring the loose folds of the printed silk. “That’s a beautiful thing.”

“Picked it up for next to nothing in a second-hand shop years ago.” You preen a little to show it off. “You sure you’re not too tired?” 

He nods solemnly, and you undo the belt of the robe, letting it fall open as you stand in front of him. 

“Oh, my god.” Ben moves close to you, slipping his long fingers under the edge of the robe to reveal the soft flesh of your bare shoulders and the full, plush outline of your naked breasts. “Oh, fuck me.”

“That is indeed the plan, love.”

He pauses and chuckles, then eases the rest of the robe off you and places it on the armchair before exploring the contours and creases and folds of your bare form with his gentle fingertips. His mouth is open a little, as if he’s astonished by the sight of you: illuminated in candlelight. Soft. Warm. Curvy. Inviting.

“You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “Let’s go to bed.”

You tilt your head in the direction of the fireplace and the cosy fire burning in the stove. He sees the soft blankets and pillows laid out on the rug in front of the hearth, and he smiles and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You start to undress him, loosening his tie and helping him out of his shirt and pants. 

He moves as if to take off his undervest and boxer briefs and you still his hands. “Uh… maybe keep the vest. For the moment.”

The light from the stove casts shadows over you, body writhing on the blankets as Ben works another orgasm from you with a quirk of his thick, talented fingers. 

He’s focused his attention on you, on your pleasure, since you’d stretched out together in front of the hearth. “It’s only fair,” he’d whispered, kissing your neck and collarbones, his warm, solid frame resting above you. “Want to show you how much I love you - all of you.”

With his mouth and fingers leading the way, he had taken you on a kind of guided tour of your own body, praising every bit of you as he went. The curve of your hips. The specific shape of your mouth. The softness of your belly. The strength of your thighs. The line of your neck. The velvet weight of your breasts when he holds them in his big hands.

He sucked lightly on your nipples, tracing his thumb over the pebbled skin. “These are spectacular tits, Lyd. Better than I’d ever imagined.”

You’d laughed and wound your fingers through his hair. “Did you often imagine what my tits were like before you actually got to see them, or…”

He groaned in embarrassment, burying his head against your chest. “Maybe a little.” He lifted his face slightly and looked up at you. “I was admiring respectfully. You can’t blame me, they’re fucking amazing.”

He quickly worked his way down your body, running his mouth and tongue over the soft flesh of your middle and settling himself between your thighs before reaching his hand up to part the wet folds of your pussy, sighing happily as he did so. 

“And this is…so beautiful.” 

He trailed two fingers along the wet seam, slipping the tips into your cunt, before they were replaced by his lips and tongue.

One orgasm. Two. And now, what was this - three? 

You whine with need. “Please, baby. Want you now.”

He shifts his body on top of yours and kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around him, then leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Can I roll you over and take you from behind?”

You kiss him again before shifting onto your front, enjoying the sensation of the soft blankets against your naked breasts and belly. Ben grabs another pillow and places it under your head. His weight on top of you is warm and grounding, the broad span of his shoulders eclipsing yours.

He brings his lips to the back of your neck as he gently slips inside with a long, low moan, feeling the plush flesh of your ass against him as he bottoms out. Even as he starts to move, even as he picks up the pace and fucks you harder, he’s ever the conscientious, considerate lover. Every now and then he leans in to ask if you’re okay, if it feels good for you, to tell you how beautiful you are, and to remind you how much he loves you.

You can tell he’s close, and you know another peak is building in you. You reach up and pull one of the cushions from under your head. 

“Can you pull back just for a second? Wanna lift my hips up and…”

He does as he’s asked and you slip the cushion under your hips, adjusting yourself until you hear him groan with pleasure and you know it’s just the right angle for the two of you. Ben slips a hand under you to cup your breast as he fucks you hard, pulling one final climax from you just as he cries out your name and spills inside you.

He pulls out and reaches to turn you round, bringing your bodies flush together and covering your face with soft kisses as you run your fingers through his damp hair. You drag up one of the blankets to cover your bodies, and you lie there, entwined together exchanging gentle kisses in the glow of the fire.

Disentangled and cleaned up, the two of you nestle together on the couch to drink some champagne: you back in your robe, Ben in a soft old t-shirt and flannel pyjama pants. 

“I’m sorry this isn’t more glamorous, Ben.”

He cuddles you closer. “Best night ever, and it’s all down to you.”

He puts his glass on the side table and reaches beside the couch to retrieve a small gift bag. “Happy Valentine’s, my love. I only wish I could give you everything.”

You smile and shake your head. “I’ve got everything I need.”

The gift bag contains a rectangular jewellery box and what feels like a gift-wrapped book. “I should explain why there’s no card,” Ben says, looking a little anxious. “They were all just a bit… cringey. Is that the word? They just weren’t you. So… the book is a gift but also a card. Kind of. If that makes sense. Does that make sense?”

You kiss him lightly and open the paper to reveal what looks like a mid twentieth-century hardback book, wrapped in a bright blue dust jacket. You laugh when you look at the author’s name and title:

H.E. BATES

LOVE FOR LYDIA

“You know I’ve never actually read this?”

Ben smiles broadly, his eyes crinkling. “Neither have I, but… well. It’s self-explanatory.”

You open the book and read the inscription on the inside. 

To Lyddie, for whom my love would fill countless volumes. B x

Tú

que ayer sólo eras toda la hermosura

eres tambien todo el amor, ahora.

You

who were merely all beauty yesterday

are today all love, as well

J.L. Borges, ‘Sabados’ (1923)

“I know it’s a little bit soppy.”

“Soppy?” You’re wiping away tears with the sleeve of your robe. “Ben, this is - I don’t have words, it’s beautiful. Perfect, in fact.”

“Do you want to open the other one?” He gestures towards the jewellery box, resting on your lap.

“Ohh, baby.” Inside is a fine gold chain with a little gold disc hanging from it, no more than a centimetre and a half in diameter. It’s delicately engraved with your initials, arranged in a sort of cypher design. 

It is elegant, beautiful, and you can’t quite believe that someone would love you enough to even think of a gift like this, let alone give it to you. The inner doubts about whether you ‘deserve’ this kind of love are mostly under control these days, but never too far from the surface.

“It’s so perfect, darling, it’s… It’s…it’s too much, Ben, I don’t -“

“Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve this.” He looks deadly serious. “Do you want to try it on?” 

The gold feels warm against your skin, and you admire the way it reflects the candlelight as you lean in and kiss him before standing up and fetching a gift box that you’d hidden behind the TV. 

“Okay, now it’s your turn, Benjamin.” He takes the gift box and carefully takes off the lid to reveal something neatly wrapped in tissue paper underneath. 

You settle back beside him on the couch. “I really hope you like this, and that you don’t think it’s inappropriate. But - tell me if it is, okay?” 

He nods, a slightly suspicious look in his eyes, and begins to fold back the layers of tissue paper to reveal a crisp, white cotton poplin shirt with a camp-style collar decorated with red embroidery. His initial uncertainty rapidly gives way to recognition as he lifts the shirt out of the box.

A little while ago, not long after you had officially got together, you had been chatting one evening about the family photographs on display in his living room. Your gaze had settled again on the photo of his father as a young man, so uncannily similar to his son. 

“Other than the hair and the fact that your eyes are exactly the same as your mother’s, you’re a carbon copy of him. You just need a similar shirt and you could recreate the image.”

Ben had picked up the photo so you could look at it in more detail together. “He had this shirt for years. It’s a traditional style, but they come in all sorts of variations. His was gorgeous, though - that embroidery was like a dark red, I think. I loved it when I was a kid and he wore it, he just looked so cool.” He’d smiled warmly at the image of Diego Morales, captured forever in his youthful prime. “Fuck, I miss him so much.”

You leaned in and cuddled him. “Do you have one? Of the shirts, I mean”, you’d asked, and Ben had shook his head. 

“Never found one that was as nice as Dad’s.” 

It is a relatively simple design - short sleeved, button-up, with four pockets, two on each side - but you have added embroidered details to each of the pockets, to match the collar. The shirt itself was an easy enough job - after doing your research on the exact style and its history, you’d made it one Saturday when Ben was doing an open day at the college and you could lock yourself away in your apartment. The embroidery had been more challenging, especially as you were trying to approximate what you could make out of the pattern on Diego’s shirt. 

Like Ben, you were unable to find a Valentine’s card that didn’t make you want to vomit. So you have, instead, stitched a tiny message along the fabric facing just inside the collar - his initials, your initials, and the year.

Every stitch and every seam was, in its own way, a tangible expression of how much he meant to you.

Ben is silent as he looks at the shirt, taking in the details. He runs his fingers along the hand embroidery and feels the small pearl buttons. You worry that this might actually be too much - too intimate a gift for so early in a relationship, too close to the grief he felt for his father - and that you have got this horribly, desperately wrong.

“B-Ben?”

He turns slowly to you, tears in his eyes, the shirt still in his hands. 

“I’m sorry, Ben, I just -“

He places the shirt back in the box and pulls you close to him. He struggles to get the words out. “Thank you. Thank you, Lyd, this is - wow.” He looks at the shirt again and bites his lip. “It’s the most beautiful gift I think I’ve ever been given.”

He notices the tiny lettering inside the collar. “Oh, fuck me. You made this?!”

You bury your head against him, mumbling into his chest. “Yes is that weird oh god is it weird?”

He laughs and wraps an arm around you. “How could you making me a version of my dad’s guayabera be weird? It’s… fuck. I love it. And I love you. So fucking much.”

“I’m so glad you like it, darling.”

His gaze is earnest as he reaches for your hand. “It means the world to me. You mean the world to me.” 

You take the box and place it on the coffee table so that you can cuddle in against his broad, warm chest, bringing an arm around his middle as he enfolds you in his strong, safe embrace.

You mean the world to him. He means the world to you. Isn’t that all that matters?

The countdown to the hard decisions might be rapidly running out, but for tonight, at least, they could wait. You close your eyes and focus on the reassuring rhythm of Ben’s heartbeat. 

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more; other dividers by @cafekitsune)

Further A/N:

The song Lydia sings a line of to Ben after their morning exertions is 'Just A Little Lovin'', by Dusty Springfield.

The shirt Ben's dad is wearing, and that Lydia recreates for Ben as his Valentine's gift, is inspired by the traditional guayabera summer shirt that is thought to have originated in either Mexico or Cuba, but is worn throughout Central and parts of South America in the summer months.

[sevarix-blogs]

in the original gameboy pokemon games (red blue yellow) the moves were called techniques and as a kid i had no idea how to pronounce technique so i pronounced it literally in my head like 'teach-ni-quee' (i was like 7) anyway idk why i just remembered this

[whitestlotus]

Fragment of a Memory (Scaramouche/Wanderer x F!Reader) | Prologue

Synopsis: The Teyvat Empire has fallen and split into seven kingdoms. In the serene electro kingdom, Inazuma – resides the crown prince of the original empire, Kabukimono. At a young age, he was introduced to the newly chosen crown princess of the Kingdom of Liyue, Princess Ningjing. Over the years, the prince has grown fond of the princess and later on asked her hand in marriage. This strengthens the political ties between Inazuma and Liyue amidst a faltering peace treaty among the seven nations. Alas, it only took a matter of time until a war broke out ultimately ending the life of the beloved princess. Devastated, Kabukimono vows to protect Ningjing in another life.

In the year 2023, over a thousand years after the Teyvatian War, Celestia – formerly known as Teyvat – was a flourishing country. Y/N, a 21-year-old college student studying Psychology, cross paths with Kunikuzushi. He is not the most positive person for lack of a better word. But what happens if suddenly as each day passes, a fragment of a memory that feels familiar returns to you?

And you are not the only one.

Chapter Warning: Major Character Death, War

Book Masterlist | General Masterlist

Book Playlist

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

In the serene kingdom of the electro – Inazuma, an ambiance that can be compared to the solemnity and holy cathedral of Mondstadt can be observed. The royal court was decorated in both Inazuman and Liyuean tapestries. Shrine maidens can be seen aligned on the right-hand side of the throne carrying Suzus, adjacent to them are the Royal Adepti of Liyue carrying blessing sigils. On the throne, sat the reigning monarchs of each kingdom – Raiden Shogun and Rex Lapis. Both are dressed in a Hitoe and a Dragon’s Robe respectively; capturing the culture of their domain. The aisle was adorned in sakura bloom and glaze lily flower arrangements, a long red carpet embellished with intricate patterns hinting at both geo and electro, and several large chandeliers hovering over.

 At the foot of the elevated thrones, stood crown prince Kabukimono. Dressed in a dark violet Sokutai, matching the color of his mother’s Hitoe. He stood in anticipation – stealing glances at a large painting on the wall behind the thrones displaying the late King who passed away during the split of Teyvat. How he misses him dearly. He admires the Gagaku Orchestra on the balconies above them, playing music fit for an intermission. The hushed murmurs and chatter within the royal court from both the royal guests and the selected common folk were silenced when a flash of light and a loud creaking sound was heard from the massive double door. In comes a figure in a white Cheongsam gown with gold embellishments and a long flowing golden tule cape draped over their shoulders. It was the crown princess.

 The orchestra began playing a mixed rendition of traditional Inazuman and Liyuean wedding music. As the crown princess walked down the aisle, she couldn’t hold back her tears. She was alone, and so was the crown prince. He allowed a tear to slip past his eyes out of happiness. 

 “She is ethereal,” he thought to himself.

 As the princess arrived at the foot of the throne, she bowed to respect both her father and her soon-to-be mother-in-law. Kabukimono does the same and outstretches a hand for the princess to grab ahold of. Both Raiden Shogun and Rex Lapis stood in front of the both of them and took out their staffs. It shared the same motif as their respective spears. The Shogun accolades the crown princess, whilst Rex Lapis accolades the crown prince. Both granting them the permission and blessing to wed. The crown princess then turns to Kabukimono and bows. He fights back his tears as he watches her stand upright. He then, to everyone’s surprise, bows immediately after. A prince, the crown prince even, bowing to the princess during their wedding is unheard of. When they assume the roles of king and queen, it is expected of the queen to be below and not equal to the king. It showed the people that Kabukimono, the future king of Inazuma and Liyue, sees himself as equal to the crown princess. 

 “Ningjing…” He whispers. 

 The crown princess, Ningjing, looks at him in shock. A red hue covers her cheeks as tears threaten to fall. He saw her as his bride, as his equal, as her. Her grip on his hand tightens. He placed a hand on her cheek and caresses it gently as if she was as delicate as a flower and fragile as glass. He leans in and kisses her lips. They were both embraced by warmth as they kissed. The court erupts in cheers and claps as sakura bloom petals fall. Like any couple, they were elated. Liyue held a 3-day long festival celebrating the wedding of Kabukimono and Ningjing. The Royal Adepti escorted both royals throughout the festival. As they walked around, they overheard hushed whispers,

 “Do you think Princess Ningjing will bear a prince or princess?”

 “Oh, how excited I am to hear them announce the princess’ pregnancy!”

 “I hope both the prince and princess will be able to bear a child…”

 Ningjing blushes and looks at the ground to avoid Kabukimono’s gaze. They just got married how could the people want them to have a child already? This behavior does not go unnoticed by the prince, however.

 “How inconsiderate, they already want you to bear a child just 2 days after our wedding. Should I behead them dear?” He says glancing at the princess’ pale face as she jolts up and faces him.

 “Absolutely not! Let them be vocal with their thoughts and sentiments. It doesn’t mean we would HAVE to comply with their wishes. We can always wait when we are comfortable.” Ningjing mumbles the last part as she adverts her eyes from his shyly.

 “What if I am already comfortable?” He smirks.

 “Kabuki!” She scans the vicinity to see if anyone heard the preposterous and scandalous words that were uttered by the crown prince. He laughs as he watches her panic and pets her head. Reassuring her that no one heard him and that he is willing to wait. As they continue down the path leading to a stage occupied by performing opera singers, a loud crash was heard. Everyone turned their head toward the source of the sound. They were then greeted by a massive fire that engulfed three of the buildings. The ground vibrated as yelling was heard from afar. In the field on the horizon, was an entire army charging straight toward the Kingdom of Liyue. The Royal Adepti quickly escorted the royals to the palace. The royals were given a basic armor breastplate and a sword to at least protect them.

 “Your Highness, the army was identified. They are Snezhnayan.” An Adepti, named Ping, informs.

 All blood from the princess’ face drains. Kabukimono places a hand on her shoulder and asks her to stay in the palace while he helps the Liyuean army fight. Ningjing shakes her head begging him to stay with her. He reassures her that the Inazuman army will arrive shortly for aid. As he walks away accompanied by some of the Royal Adepti, she tugs on his wrist.

 “Let me fight with you.” She looks at his eyes sternly, determination visible.

 “I can’t risk losing you. Respectfully, we are both well aware that I have the most experience on the battlefield. You on the other hand could barely swing your sword. I don’t know what I would do without you!”

“What makes you think I don’t share the same sentiments as you?! What if you don’t come back? What would I do without you?” Tears roll down Ningjing’s cheek as she begs. "I want to protect our people with you"

 She drops her sword and grasps his free hand tightly with both her hands. She brings it close to her chest as she mutters ‘please’. Kabukimono glances at the Royal Adepti – all looking away not knowing what to do to help. Kabukimono sighs and pulls his hand back. He bends down and picks up her sword and hands it to her.

 “You have to come back in one piece.” He mumbles.

 “No, WE have to come back in one piece” Her eyes are still glossy from her tears but proceeds to wipe them off with her sleeve and nods her head. 

 The deafening sound of sword clanking and slashing, the stench of blood and sweat, the smoke that renders sight useless – Ningjing swings her sword, beheading the opposing soldier. Her grip on the handle of her sword tightens as she examines the area. There was no sight of Kabukimono. Her heart rate quickens as she ran opposite to the ongoing fight, quickly reuniting with an Inazuman soldier.

 “Have you seen His Highness, Kabukimono?” She panics.

 “I apologize, Your Highness. I have not-” The soldier quickly pulls the princess behind him and stabs a Snezhnayan soldier in the abdomen. The body falls limp and passes away on its knees. 

 Ningjing runs back to the battlefield in search of Kabukimono. ‘How careless of me’ she thought. There were hardly any soldiers from both sides left yet the smoke was still evident. She coughs as she walks over the countless dead bodies piling up on the ground. Her mind was filled to the brim with negative thoughts. What if something happened to him? Or worse, what if he died? She swallows back her tears and shakes her head to rid herself of those thoughts. She continues to tread over the bodies as quietly as possible while also scanning each face hoping she would not see him as one of them. She arrives at a much clearer area. Her hold on her sword strengthens should there be an enemy that spots her. In the distance, she spots a familiar dark purple-haired figure. 

 “Kabuki!” She exclaims as she runs towards him. 

 His head swiftly turns around and locks eyes with Ningjing. Unfortunately, what was not taken into account was the possibility of an archer present. A Royal Adeptus, Alatus, was quick to notice a silhouette of a person aiming a bow and arrow at the crown princess. He dashes towards the person but before he could reach them, the arrow was fired.

It was as if time was slowed in Kabukimono’s eyes. The arrow flying towards the princess, the fear in the princess’ eyes as she turns around, when the arrow penetrates her straight to the chest, and the sound of the prince’s sword dropping to the ground as he darts towards the princess. He catches her in his arms before she could hit the ground, and his heart quickens out of fear. It didn’t help when blood pooled under the princess. She looked up at him and caresses his face with her bloodied hand.

“Ah…haha…I’m sorry Kabuki. Did I scare you?” She lets out a strained laugh as tears brim her eyes. “It really hurts…”

 Kabukimono didn’t know what to say, all he could do was stare at her as he lets out quiet sobs. He held her hand that was on his face, feeling it lose its heat. She lets out a small smile as she wipes his tears. With the little strength she had left, she pulled his face towards her and kisses his lips. As she pulls away slowly, 

 “I love you, Kabuki…” She exhales, implying that was her last breath.

 They took his princess away, his Ningjing. He watches as all life fades from her eyes as her body grows limp. He held her in his arms as he chokes on his sobs. Alatus managed to eliminate the enemy but at what cost? He watches the distraught prince cry at the loss of the princess from afar. The battle was over and the Royal Adepti that were in the vicinity could only bow their heads as their crown prince grieves. The prince whispers to the body in his arms,

 “I will love you again in another life and I vow to protect you better than I did in this life. Your death was not in vain, Ningjing. I love you too…”

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Next Chapter

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Hey hey ~, first of all thank you for writing my first request.I just remembered one of my favorite fairy tales and hope you don’t mind writing it.Can you write Shinobu x yn with a Sleeping Beauty plot where yn will be Princess Aurora while Shinobu will be Prince Philip.😘

Sorry if my request bothers you, it's okay if you don't want to write, I understand.🙏🏻

Sleeping Beauty

Shinobu Kochou x She/ Her Reader AU

A/N: AHH I was just gonna start with them meeting in the forest but then I thought about how perfect Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma would be as the fairies and I had to write morrrreee. This was fun! Hope you like it! Word Count: 6,857

There was a most joyous celebration heard throughout the kingdom the day the Princess was born. Thousands danced, feasted and cheered outside the castle walls, wishing the newborn royalty a full and happy life. A continued era of peace and prosperity for all would be promised, as she was sure to grow as just and kind as she would be beautiful. The common folk had witnessed themselves the fairies flying above them, sure to gift the most lovely of virtues upon the Princess.

But then the sky began to darken and the gentle breeze became a whipping wind. The merriment died and the people parted like the Red Sea for the lone fairy and her scraggly raven circling overhead.

With a curl of her lip and a flick of her staff, the reinforced castle doors flew open, hitting back against the stone wall with a chilling, echoey thud.

“Daki!” The King cried, shielding his wife and newborn child behind him, “Why have you come here?”

“Hmm,” Daki pretended to ponder, tapping a finger to her lips.

Her Raven, once it hand made a swift lap around the grand room to terrorize the guests, took perch on the end of her staff. She stroked his beak and spoke to the bird loud enough for all to hear. Not that she needed to raise her voice terribly high in a ballroom quiet enough to be a tomb.

“Do you think the King is really so daft, Gyutaro? Or is it hubris?”

The bird let out a gravelly shriek and Daki chuckled, turning her eyes back on the King.

“You needn’t look so tense your majesty, I’m so sorry to drop in uninvited,” she gritted the word out, “but I would be remiss if I could not bestow a gift upon the Princess as well.” She glided forward, “Let me see the little thing.”

“Are you not offended, Lady Daki?” The Queen asked with a tremor.

Daki tutted, “Of course not your majesty. I bear no ill will. Consider this an olive branch.”

The King bit his inner lip and looked to his wife to find her eyes large and frightened. He feared Daki as much as she, and he made the hard decision to allow Daki to proceed over risking further enraging her. He took his wife by the hand and made room for Daki to peer over the crib and sneer at the baby laying within.

“She will indeed be beautiful and kind and bring joy and love to all she knows,” Daki confirmed, raising her staff.

Gyutaro took off from the perch and Daki swirled her staff above the crib, a supernatural green light reflected in the baby’s eyes.

“A perfect picture of serenity and a physical representation of all the light and good of this world,” Daki continued, a sinister smile spreading across her face.

The wind whipped and whirled throughout the ballroom with renewed vigor and the glowing green energy bloomed in a powerful burst as Daki stretched her arms out wide and cackled,

“But, before the sun sets on her eighteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, and die!”

“No!” The Queen cried, pulling her daughter out of the crib and holding her tight to her chest. Her husband in turn held her to his, a blazing mix of fury and fear fought for control of his features.

“Seize her!” He bellowed.

The guards made their approach, but Daki merely laughed, broadly swingling her staff.

“You idiots!” She shrieked with cruel laughter.

In a bright burst of green light, she vanished, her laughter still echoing on the wind along with her raven’s crowing.

“No, no!” The Queen sobbed into her husband’s chest, their child pressed between them, wailing from the sharp noises and bright lights that had overwhelmed her senses.

Cautiously, one of the good faires approached the royal family.

“Your majesties, don’t despair just yet,” the fairy Hinatsuru encouraged, “Suma still has her gift to give.”

“Then she can undo this awful curse?” The King asked hopefully.

“N-no, your majesty,” Suma shook, “I’m sorry. Her magic is much too strong.”

“You can still help.” Makio left little room for doubt, pushing Suma forward, “Help her.”

“But—!”

“Just do your best dear.” Hinatsuru soothed.

Suma bit her lip, but approached the Queen and looked down at the baby swaddled in her arms.

“Hello sweet Princess,” she greeted softly, her timid voice and soft blue glow easing the baby’s wails to fussy cries and hiccups, “I know it is not exactly the fun gift I wanted to give you, but I hope this will help.

The gift I will be giving to thee should on a spindle your finger prick, is not death, but a deep sleep like. And from this slumber you shall wake! With true love’s kiss the spell will break!” Suma declared, kissing the baby’s forehead before backing away with a nervous smile. She looked to Hinatsuru and Makio, hoping to receive some praise, but instead—

“Are you kidding me?!” Makio shrieked, shaking Suma violently, “There’s no such thing as true love’s kiss! She’ll sleep forever you moron!”

“Wahhh! True love is real, Makio! How could you say that?” Suma cried.

“Makio, stop. You aren’t helping.” Hinatsuru scolded.

“I-it’s something,” the Queen nodded slowly, “there is hope for my sweet (Y/n) yet.”

The King nodded solemnly and then called out to his guards,

“See to it that every spinning wheel in this kingdom is burned to ash! Every. Single. One.”

***

“What a shit day this turned out to be.” Makio grumbled as she stared out over the kingdom from their room in the castle, watching the smoke and fire billow over the city square as spinning wheel after spinning wheel was tossed into the flames.

“This won’t be enough to stop her.” Hinatsuru peered into her teacup with downcast eyes. “…What else could we do?”

“We could try to reason with Daki maybe?” Suma asked, cringing away from the look Makio shot her over her shoulder.

“Well, that’s the second stupidest thing you’ve said today.” Makio said coldly.

“Makio…” Hinatsuru warned, putting a hand on Suma’s back.

“Sorry, sorry, argh! I’m just so pissed off! If I could just turn Daki into an ugly toad or a weirdly muscular mouse or something!”

“You know our magic doesn’t work like that. We can only spread joy and happiness.” Hinatsuru reminded.

“Well I don’t know about you Hina, but it would certainly make me happy.” Makio snarked.

Hinatsuru sighed and leaned back in her chair.

What to do, what to do? What would Daki never expect?

“That’s it!” Hinatsuru snapped her fingers.

“What?” Makio turned to face her fully, leaning against the window.

“That old cottage in the forest! Three ordinary women taking care of an abandoned child!”

“Oh, that’s very nice of them.” Suma observed. Though she was unsure of the relevance, she smiled happily.

“Back up,” Makio squinted, “what are you talking about? Who?”

“Us!” Hinatsuru exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest.

A faint purple glow fogged up the room and when it dissipated, gone were the fairies’ wings and usual garb, replaced with modest clothes befitting simple peasants.

“Hey! Put my wings back!” Makio huffed, already readying her wand to do so herself.

But Hinatsuru snatched the wand out of her hand and motioned for Suma to hand over hers as well.

“We will take care of the Princess until the danger has passed. Daki would never suspect it.”

“Are you crazy?” Makio gawked, “Their majesties will never go for it. Not to mention you expect us to live like regular humans for eighteen years? No way, Hina!”

“I think it could be fun.” Suma shyly interjected. “Taking care of a cute little baby.”

“Not without magic it won’t.” Makio said, trying to take her wand back from Hinatsuru’s grasp.

“Our magic will have us sticking out like a sore thumb.” Hinatsuru reasoned, “If we are to save the Princess from her fate, we must take every precaution we can.”

Makio’s next swipe fell short and she sighed, finally giving in. Far be it from her to allow Daki to have it her way. The Princess would be safe with them like this.

“Fine.” She grumbled.

“Come, we must tell the King and Queen our plan.” Hinatsuru took Suma and Makio’s hands in hers, and rushed them to the throne room for an audience with the royal family.

At nightfall, the King and Queen watched from their balcony as three women ran from the castle, and eyed the precious bundle carried in the third one’s arms. Though wrought with sorrow, they knew their Princess would be safe and return to them in time. If it meant their daughter could live a full and happy life, they could wait.

***

The kingdom suffered years of sorrow without their Princess, but as the eighteenth year drew near, the people became more hopeful. For as long as Daki’s domain thundered, it meant the Princess was still hidden and safe.

They dared not ease their guards however, for they often saw Gyutaro circling the land from the sky above, searching for the beloved Princess. It was not over just yet.

Meanwhile in a cozy little cottage deep in the forest, three fairies disguised as mortals whispered to each other excitedly over a couple of books, getting ready for a day they had long awaited. They shushed each other and hid the books behind their backs, grinning from ear to ear and watching the stairs to greet who they had heard descending them.

“Good morning, Hinatsuru, Makio, Suma,” (Y/n) beamed brightly, “What are you three up to this morning?”

“What are we up to?” Suma squeaked. “We aren’t up to anything. Why would you think we were—“

Makio covered Suma’s mouth with her hand.

“What Suma is trying to say is that it would be very nice if you could gather a basket of berries from the woods.”

“Berries?” (Y/n) blinked.

“Lots of berries.” Hinatsuru nodded.

“But, I just picked berries yesterday.”

“We need more.” Makio said.

“A lot more!” Suma agreed.

The three fairies pushed a basket in (Y/n)’s hands and ushered her towards the door, reminding her not to stray too far or talk to strangers as they did.

“Goodbye dear!” They called in unison, quickly closing the door in (Y/n)’s bewildered face.

“Goodbye, I guess.” (Y/n) laughed good naturedly. She turned her back on the cottage and began walking away, swinging the basket in her hand. “I wonder what had them all in a tizzy.”

She shrugged to herself and started to hum, gradually working up to a full on song that summoned some of the local wildlife. She grinned at the familiar creatures and spun around, getting lost in her music, allowing it to carry far along the sweet summer breeze.

***

“It’s nice to have a little time to ourselves, don’t you think, Giyuu?” Shinobu asked the horse, taking in the scenery of the enchanting forest.

“No annoying sisters, no royal duties, just peace and… quiet?” Shinobu strained her hearing, trying to focus in on the sweet sound carried on the breeze. “Woah, boy.” She ordered, stilling the horse to a halt.

Shinobu closed her eyes to better focus on what she was hearing and smiled.

“Do you hear that, Giyuu? What a beautiful sound! We simply must find out where it’s coming from.”

She turns Giyuu around, but the horse refuses to go further, Shinobu rolled her eyes.

“Could you be anymore antisocial? Here, what if I snuck some salmon into your feed bag later, you big weirdo.”

That offer seemed to pique the horse’s interest. In fact, one might say too much.

The horse reared back then galloped forward. Shinobu tried her best to stay on, but when Giyuu tried to clear a small creek, Shinobu was clotheslined by a branch and fell into the shallow water.

Giyuu noticed the absence of Shinobu’s weight on his back and sheepishly trotted back to the soaked girl shooting daggers at him.

“This,” Shinobu groaned as she tried to wring out her cape, “is exactly why no one likes you.”

***

Once (Y/n) had filled the basket to the brim she decided she would rest for a for a spell and stretched out beneath the shade of a grand tree. Her small animal entourage formed a semicircle around her.

“Why must they continue to treat me like a child?” (Y/n) asked no one in particular.

“Who?” The owl hooted, making (Y/n) laugh.

“Why Zenitsu,” she booped the owl on the beak, “Hina, Suma and Makio of course!

They’re always telling me to stay on the trails and to keep away from strangers. But,” she smiled cheekily, “I’ve met someone anyway.”

“Who? Who?” The owl jolted excitedly, the other animals also wriggling with anticipation.

“A Prince, I think. Someone who carries a sword and adorns a flowing cape of some kind. We walked and talked together in a beautiful garden filled with colorful butterflies… and just before we parted, they took me in their arms and then… I woke up.”

The animals voiced their disappointment in the best way that they could and (Y/n) sighed.

“I know, I know it’s just a dream, but it’s one that I’ve had countless times for as long as I can remember. It must mean something. Don’t you think?” (Y/n) closed her eyes and began to hum again.

A rowdy baby boar that (Y/n) had bestowed the name Inosuke upon caught something swaying in the trees and snorted excitedly, shoving Zenitsu in the direction of the billowing cape.

The pair of Rabbits, Tanjirou and Nezuko, hopped along, curious to see what had Inosuke so worked up.

The small ragtag team stopped below the tree and shared a silent conversation before Zenitsu flew into the tree to swipe the butterfly patterned cape while Tanjirou and Nezuko dove into the pair of black boots.

Inosuke squealed delightedly, catching the attention of a certain horse that was standing nearby.

Giyuu had to do a double take before he whinnied to gain Shinobu’s attention from where she laid out in the sun, trying to dry off.

“What is it now— hey!“ Shinobu rose to her feet just in time to watch the thieving creatures take off with her belongings. She took up pursuit, cursing under her breath.

The animals were much faster than Shinobu and made it back to (Y/n) in no time at all. They hovered over (Y/n) and when the girl opened her eyes, she laughed and rose to her feet, bowing to cape adorning owl, the bunny filled boots, and the small boar circling them excitedly.

“Why, if it isn’t the Prince of my dreams,” she happily played along, “care for a dance?”

(Y/n) rose her arms to be about where the Prince’s shoulders would be if he had them, and danced around, careful not to step on any bunny filled boots. As they danced, she sang, alerting the owner of the clothing she was dancing with of her presence.

Shinobu hung back just before the clearing, enchanted by the mystery woman’s voice and seemingly effortless beauty. She took in the scene before her for a few moments more, and when she found an opening, she grinned and cut in between (Y/n) and the menagerie wearing her clothes, swaying along to (Y/n)’s song just behind her.

(Y/n) continued to sing, unaware of her change in dance partner until another voice joined her, soft and low. She felt her back bump into something soft and she startled, turning to face the intruder and taking several steps back.

“I’m sorry,” Shinobu chuckled, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh, you didn’t! Not really, it’s just, well, you’re a…” (Y/n) couldn’t seem to collect herself.

“A stranger?” Shinobu supplied.

“Yeah… that’s right.”

“Oh, but I’m no stranger,” Shinobu smirked, stepping closer, “don’t you remember? We’ve met before.”

“We have?” (Y/n) was sure she would have remembered meeting such a beautiful girl before. Especially with such lovely eyes.

“But of course, you said so yourself, once upon a dream.” Shinobu teased.

Shinobu took (Y/n) by the hand and started singing again, waltzing with her around the clearing.

A shy smile worked at (Y/n)’s lips and she slowly eased into the rhythm, joining Shinobu in song and loving how well their voices seemed to mesh.

Eventually, they stopped to rest. Breathing a little heavier from the exertion but smiling like lovedrunk fools. Shinobu slid her hand out to rest over (Y/n)’s then scoffed and shook her head.

“What is it?” (Y/n) asked.

“I only now realized that I don’t even know your name.” Shinobu explained with a sheepish smile. How unlike her it was to forget to ask such a simple thing.

“My name… oh!” (Y/n) blinked rapidly and shot to her feet. She had just spent the afternoon dancing with a stranger! What would her aunties say if they knew she was being so careless?

“I have to go!” She yelled, already running towards home.

“Go? Right now? Where?” Shinobu got to her feet as well, trying to follow after the girl and get some answers. “When will I see you again?”

“Oh I don’t know,” (Y/n) replied with mild agitation, “maybe never!”

“Never?!” Shinobu gawked.

“Well,” (Y/n) battled with herself, “maybe someday?”

“Tomorrow?” Shinobu asked hopefully. She couldn’t imagine never seeing the other girl again. They had an undeniable connection.

“Maybe, maybe… this evening! A cottage, here in the woods, the glen! Please come!” (Y/n) couldn’t help herself. The woman before her was so familiar, she made her whole heart sing.

“I wouldn’t miss it!” Shinobu declared.

She watched (Y/n) run into the forest then backed into Giyuu, pressing a hand to her chest. Shinobu never felt her heart beat so fast.

***

(Y/n) burst into the cottage and was immediately bombarded by the three women who raised her. They completely missed the scraggly raven perched on the windowsill.

“Happy Birthday (Y/n)!” They cheered in unison, gesturing to the cake and beautiful dress they had created.

“Oh!” (Y/n) placed her hands over her chest, overcome with emotion, “This is all so wonderful! Thank you all so much!

This is positively the best day of my life, I can’t wait to introduce you to who I met today.”

“Hm?” Hinatsuru titled her head.

“You met someone?” Makio shouted.

“A stranger?” Suma cowered.

“Oh no, she’s no stranger. We’ve met before.”

“You have?” Hinatsuru asked.

“When?” Makio threw her hands into the air.

“Once upon a dream!” (Y/n) grinned. Then she began singing and twirling around the room.

“She’s in love!” Suma cooed. It was enough to bring a tear to her eye.

“Oh dear…” Hinatsuru placed a hand over her mouth.

“This is terrible!” Makio groaned.

“Why?” (Y/n) ceased her merriment to fix her aunts with a confused frown. “I’m eighteen now. Surely I’m old enough to make some decisions for myself.”

“It’s not that, (Y/n),” Hinatsuru pursed her lips before finally she revealed,

“You’re already betrothed to be married, dear. Since birth. You are a Princess.”

“That, that can’t be…” (Y/n) shook her head in disbelief, “Why would you tell me this now?”

Hinatsuru took (Y/n)’s hands in her own, “It was for your own protection. We will be taking you back to the castle tonight. All of your questions can be answered then, okay?”

The raven sitting in the windowsill perked up and flew away. Bringing the information he now held home.

“I can’t leave!” (Y/n) was distraught by the notion, “I— the girl I met, she’s coming here tonight.”

“(Y/n),” Makio held firm on Hina’s behalf, “we’re sorry, but you may never see that girl again. You are betrothed to Princess Shinobu and that is that.”

“That’s,” a tear sprung from (Y/n)’s eye, soon joined by others streaking down her face like riverbeds, “I, I can’t believe this! This isn’t fair!” She sobbed, pulling away from Hinatsuru’s grasp, she ran up to her room, thoughts of the woman she met in the woods causing further pain in her heart.

As soon as (Y/n)’s door closed, Suma broke down into tears as well. Makio and Hinatsuru cast each other forlorn looks.

Their Princess was supposed to be happy, but it seemed like the last eighteen years of her life as she knew it had just been pulled out from under her.

They gave her as much time to herself as they could before guiding her to the castle that was to be her home once more.

***

Meanwhile Shinobu had galloped home to pay her father a curtesy visit before her rendezvous in the forest glen. She rolled her eyes when she saw Kanae would be the first to greet her, but she was determined to keep her good mood.

“And just where has my darling baby sister been all day?” Kanae pondered aloud as Shinobu dismounted her horse.

“You do know father has been looking for you. You are meant to be getting ready to meet your bride to be.”

“Already met her.” Shinobu stuck her nose up and walked passed her sister, but Kanae was quick to match her stride.

“You met Princess (Y/n)? We must tell father, he is entertaining (Y/n)’s parents as we speak!” Kanae spoke excitedly, already trying to pull Shinobu along.

Shinobu strained against the pull, forcing Kanae to stop.

“I never said it was Princess (Y/n) I saw.”

“But you said—“

“I said I met the girl I was going to marry. A peasant girl from the forest.”

Kanae’s mouth fell open in shock. Ever practical and stern Shinobu, talking about marrying some peasant girl she met in the forest just that day?

“Who are you and what have you done to my sister?”

“Haha,” Shinobu snarked.

“But really Shinobu, this is an arrangement eighteen years in the making! You have to marry Princess (Y/n).”

“I’ve never even met her.”

“You only met this peasant girl a few hours ago! Is that really so different?” Kanae tried to reason.

“I thought you of all people would be happy for me!” Shinobu scoffed.

“I want to be,” Kanae confirmed, “but I also want what’s best for you and the kingdoms.”

“Unbelievable! You nag me when I’m too uptight, you nag me when I act on my feelings.” She turned and began to run back to Giyuu, hoisting herself back up on the black horse.

“Shinobu, can we just talk about this please!” Kanae cursed her sister for being such a quick an agile little thing.

“I’m going to her and you can’t stop me, send father my regards.”

Shinobu snapped Giyuu’s reins and took off back in the direction of the forest, hot blooded agitation driving her to ride as fast as she could to the little cottage in the glen.

She smiled as the cottage came into view, just where the mysterious girl said it would be. She dismounted from Giyuu and approached the door. She knocked against the weathered wood, the sound ruffling the butterflies in her stomach.

“Come in!”

Shinobu opened the door—

And was ambushed by a gang of hideous little creatures that pinned her to the ground, not even giving her a chance to fight back.

She struggled to raise her head to the figure standing against the back wall, she bared her teeth, causing the fairy standing by idly to laugh at her sorry state.

“Well, isn’t this something,” Daki sneered, “I come for one Princess only to catch another.”

“Who are you?” Shinobu hissed.

“Take her away, but be gentle. I have plans for this one.”

Daki ignored Shinobu’s shouts and grunts as she fought against her henchmen. Instead she looked to Gyutaro with a sly smile.

“After eighteen long years I feel as though the tides are finally shifting in our favor, Gyutaro.”

***

Y/n) wrenched the crown that the fairies had given her off of her head and cried into her hands. She had been left in a private room of the castle to wait for the sun to set. Only then she would meet her parents and then she would be married to a woman she had never met. It was ironic, she had dreamed of marrying royalty but now it was the very last thing she wanted.

She wanted the girl she had danced with in the forest who had held her with such gentle warmth (Y/n) felt like she might melt.

Now she just felt cold.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she wiped at her eyes. She looked in the direction of the fireplace to find not the low blaze Makio had started for her, but a strange green glow coming from the burnt wood.

Her lips parted slightly and her mind grew fuzzy. She watched the green light form into a ball and drift towards a spiral staircase previously hidden behind a tapestry in the far off corner of the room. She felt as if it was calling for her to follow. Enchanted by the green glow, she got up from her chair and followed the orb up the stairs.

As she climbs, she faintly hears distressed voices, but in her trance she pays them no mind. When she reached the top of the tower, the orb transformed into a spinning wheel. A voice, more present than the ones echoing up the stairwell, called to her and she reached out her hand, pricking her finger against the spindle.

The unnatural green glow vanished from (Y/n)’s eyes and they drooped closed. She collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

“(Y/n), no!” Suma cried, joined quickly by Makio and Hinatsuru looking just as horrified. They had been too late.

A wind whipped up and an all too familiar laughter echoed throughout the chamber. In a burst of green light, Daki stood before them.

“You really thought you could pull one over on me, did you? Fools, all of you!” She smirked down at (Y/n)’s motionless body, prodding her with her staff, “Just look at your Princess now!”

“Get away from her!” Makio cried, struggling against Hinatsuru who held her back.

Daki threw her head back and cackled once more, “I have no further use for her, deal with the little brat as you wish! I have another Princess to entertain.” In another flash of green light, Daki was gone.

The good fairies descended upon the sleeping Princess in tears, cradling her close as the last rays of sun disappeared.

A boom and crackle of distant fireworks lit up the sky in the sun’s place soon after, serving to make the fairies feel even worse.

“The King and Queen will be so heartbroken when they find out!” Suma blubbered.

“No,” Makio shook her head, “this will destroy them.”

“But, we can’t not tell them.”

“Maybe we can.” Hinatsuru murmured as she tucked (Y/n) into the bed they had moved her to.

“We will put everyone in the kingdom to sleep until she wakes.”

The three fairies shrunk down and brought sleep to the entire kingdom and as they did so, the words of one Princess Kanae to her father caught Hinatsuru completely off guard.

“Um, father?” Kanae yawned, “I have something to tell you about Shinobu.”

“Hm? What is it my child?” He answered groggily. “Were you too squabbling again?”

“No, well, yes, but she… she met someone in the forest, a peasant girl. I think she’s serious about her.”

“Serious how?”

“She wishes to marry her.” Kanae murmured, fighting to stay awake.

“Oh my… where is she now?”

“Back in the forest visiting her I suppose.”

“Ah, such a headstrong girl that one…”

They finally succumbed to the spell and Hinatsuru gasped as she made the connection.

The woman (Y/n) had met in the forest, it must have been Princess Shinobu! That must have been what Daki meant. She had captured Princess Shinobu at the cottage!

“Makio, Suma, did you hear that?” Hinatsuru asked.

“Yes, but what are we to do about it?” Makio frowned.

“Daki lives on that scary mountain!” Suma added.

“We have no choice,” Hinatsuru shook her head, “we need to free Princess Shinobu. She’s the best chance our Princess has at true love’s kiss.”

Apprehensive yet determined, the three fairies flew to the dark mountain in search of the kidnapped Princess.

***

It was not hard to find Daki, surrounded by feasting creatures in her demented ballroom, celebrating her cruelty. The fairies stayed out of sight and crept after the more sinister of their kind who had decided to leave the festivities for whatever reason. When they got to the dungeon, Makio had to hold her hand over Suma’s mouth to keep her from gasping too loudly.

There behind a cell, Princess Shinobu sat, shackled against a gritty wall. Her head resting on her knees.

When she heard Daki’s approach, she rose her head just enough to glare at her over her knees.

Daki snickered.

“Aww, such a grumpy face,” Daki squatted beside the cell, “don’t worry, you have a grand destiny ahead of you. Like a fairy tale come true.”

“What are you talking about?” Shinobu was not in the mood for games.

Daki swirled her staff and manifested a scene for Shinobu to see, narrating the images with a false sweetness.

“In the tallest tower of the castle that neighbors your own, lays Princess (Y/n) in a sleep like death. Dreaming of her true love come to set her free.”

Shinobu gasped, raising her head fully to look closer at the woman projected. Surely that could not be…

“Ah, isn’t that the peasant girl you expected to find in that dingy old cottage? The truth is that they are one in the same. What a coincidence!

In the tower the Princess shall sleep, untouched by time for a hundred years. And on the hundredth year shall I release you to ride off on a noble steed and awaken your Princess you shall with true love’s kiss.”

The projection showed Shinobu old and withered against a harsh landscape devoid of any love and beauty. She kissed (Y/n) only to die in her arms of old age, leaving her alone in a cruel and unforgiving world.

“No!” Shinobu roared, struggling uselessly against her shackles.

Daki howled with laughter, taking great pleasure in watching Shinobu writhe in the moldy cell.

Daki rose back to her full height, motioning for Gyutaro to take perch on her hand.

“Come Gyutaro, let’s leave our noble Princess with these happy thoughts.”

The door closed with a heavy thud, and after a few moments, Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma revealed themselves to Shinobu, quickly sushing her as they got to work on her shackles.

“Princess Shinobu, this will not be an easy journey. We will help you where we can, but our victory will ultimately be up to you,” Hinatsuru explained while Shinobu rubbed her freed wrists, listening intently.

“Take this enchanted shield and this sword of poison and steadfast iron. They shall protect you and help you triumph over evil.”

“Thank you,” Shinobu took the offerings with care, “how can I ever repay you?”

“Just save our little Princess, okay?” Makio beseeched.

“She’s like a child of our own.” Suma sniffed.

“I will.” Shinobu nodded, “I promise.”

The four attempted to descend the mountain without being seen, but Gyutaro, who had been circling nearby, screeched loudly, alerting all of the escaping Princess.

“Go go go!” Makio urged.

“Your horse is hidden just beyond those boulders!” Suma informed.

The three fairies took flight as Shinobu climbed onto her trusty steed and barreled down the mountain, fighting off Daki’s minions along the way.

“Stop her you fools!” Daki bellowed, casting a spell to grow thick, spiny brambles around the castle’s perimeter.

Giyuu reared up on his hind legs and Shinobu fell from his back as he took off running. She quickly rolled to her feet and fought off the creatures with her poisoned blade.

When she had an opening, she began slicing through the brambles, causing Daki roar with rage.

“You are ruining everything!” She shrieked.

Dali rose her staff and aimed a spell at her precious raven, “We must stop her Gyutaro! Come to me!” She commanded with a stomp of her foot and the bird merged with her to create a two headed dragon.

“You have to be joking!” Shinobu griped, hacking through the brambles as fast as she could.

The dragons spewed a sour green fire over the brambles. Shinobu’s shield protected her from the spray, but she needed to gain some higher ground if she was to have a chance at victory.

Shinobu tumbled out of the bramble forest, she barely had enough time to register the heads diving for her. She raised her sword and swiped at their snouts, causing them to rear back and roar angrily.

“Princess! Over here!” Suma yelled, pointing at magical steps carved into the side of a cliff overlooking the castle.

Shinobu wasted no time climbing the steps, blocking the flames with her shield. As she reached the top, a particularly strong blast blew her shield right off of her arm.

The dragons’ heads laughed in harmony even as Shinobu aimed her sword.

“And what are you going to do with that needle, little girl?” The dragons goaded in unison.

Shinobu bared her teeth, but her expression became one of surprise when the blade in her hands began to glow with purple, red and blue energies that gave her feelings of hope, justice, honesty, light, joy, love… it felt like all of the good in the world rested in her hands.

Shinobu chanced a glance behind her to see the good fairies thrusting their magic upon the blade, giving it all they could.

“Aim true, Princess!” Hinatsuru yelled over the whipping winds and cracking fire.

“The evil must perish!” Makio pushed.

“Good will always persevere in the end!” Suma swallowed thickly, decidedly not looking at the fearsome dragon looming over them.

Shinobu eyed the dragon with steadfast determination, took aim, and threw the sword as if it had been a spear. The blade struck the dragons right in their shared heart, pumping it full of poison and enchanted iron.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The dragons’ heads warbled and shrieked, cursing and snapping at each other as if blaming the other for their failure.

Finally, the beast collapsed and stilled, never to terrorize the kingdoms again.

“Ah! We did it!” Suma dropped to her knees and promptly began to bawl. “I can’t believe we did it!”

“Would it kill you to have a little more faith in us?” Makio griped, but smiled nevertheless.

Giyuu trotted sheepishly back to Shinobu’s side and though exhausted the Princess managed to roll her eyes and give the horse an affectionate pat.

“And you wonder why I insist no one likes you. Don’t worry you big oaf, I forgive you.”

Giyuu snorted and nudged the girl’s shoulder with his big snout.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I believe there is still one very important task to do,” Hinatsuru smiled, “go to her.”

“Right!” Shinobu nodded, “Let’s go Giyuu.”

Shinobu mounted the horse and took off back down the cliff while the fairies returned the landscape to its former glory. When she reached the tower, Shinobu dismounted and cautiously climbed the spiral staircase.

It was silly really, Shinobu knew. She had just slayed a two-headed fire breathing dragon, yet here she was nervous about going to kiss the girl of her dreams.

She entered the room and her breath was instantly taken away. Shinobu sat on the bed and took a moment to admire the girl she had met in the forest. They had only been apart for a few hours, but it felt like years had passed in that time.

“Hello stranger,” Shinobu murmured, “well, I suppose we were never really strangers, were we? I think we had some idea from the start.” She reached out to put her hand over (Y/n)’s,

“True love’s kiss... My apologies for being so forward, I don’t even know if you can hear me right now, but I promise that if we were in any other situation I would ask first. I hope you will allow me a second chance to do it right.”

Shinobu leaned in, tucking her hair behind her ear, eyes slowly drifting shut,

“It is time to wake up, Princess (Y/n).”

Shinobu pressed her lips gently to (Y/n)’s and lingered only a moment before pulling back, searching (Y/n)’s face for any sign that she was waking.

She relaxed when (Y/n)’s eyes began to flutter. When her eyes opened fully and she saw Shinobu hovering over her, (Y/n) smiled and rose her hand to cup Shinobu’s cheek. Shinobu placed her hand over (Y/n)’s and grinned down at her.

“I was just dreaming about you.” (Y/n) informed.

“Oh? All good things I hope.”

“All good things.” (Y/n) confirmed.

There was a clattering coming from the stairs and the Princesses turned to observe as three fairies came sprawling through the doorway and descended upon them for a hug pile.

“Sorry, I kept them back as long as I could.” Hinatsuru chuckled.

“I’m happy you’re here aunties.”

“Bwahhh! Such a good girl! My baby! Don’t ever scare me like that again!” Suma cried, squeezing the life out of (Y/n).

“She is not your baby.” Makio shook her head. Though as far as Makio was concerned they were definitely going to remain present in (Y/n)’s life, even with the curse gone. She took on the role of auntie just as seriously as the others had.

***

The kingdoms awoke with the revival of the Princess and Shinobu couldn’t help but laugh at Kanae’s face when she saw her and (Y/n) walking arm in arm into the ballroom.

Despite their parents wanting to have the wedding right then and there, the girls decided there was no rush. Tonight they would celebrate finding each other and good’s triumph over evil. They had all the time in the world.

Hinatsuru smiled fondly, watching the Princess’ twirl around the ballroom lost in each other’s eyes. It was almost perfect, but… Hinatsuru sighed,

“Make it purple.” She murmured, with a flick of her wand, she changed the color of (Y/n)’s dress.

“Come on, red.” Makio huffed, flicking her own wand.

“Makio, we are not doing this again. Purple is the obvious choice. It matches Shinobu’s eyes and everything.” Gone again was the the red color of the dress.

“This shade of red compliments them both!” Makio argued, switching the color again.

“I just love happy endings!” Suma wailed, blowing her nose violently as she watched the couple dance.

“Any idea what’s going on?” Shinobu chuckled as they danced, motioning to (Y/n)’s color changing dress with a tip of her head.

“Some kind of color theory dispute I suppose. If they regularly use magic this liberally I’m surprised they made it almost eighteen years without it.” (Y/n) peered over Shinobu’s shoulder to give the fairies a disbelieving smile at their antics.

Then (Y/n) seamlessly took the lead from Shinobu and began dancing her over to the open courtyard. Shinobu was all too happy to follow her lead.

Out of sight in the cool, night air, (Y/n)’s dress halted on purple, for which she was sure had Makio displeased. She pulled Shinobu by her hands and together they weaved aimlessly through the sculpture garden until they could hear the music of the ballroom just faintly.

“What are you up to, hm?” Shinobu asked.

“I just wanted to explore a bit, go somewhere a little quieter. I don’t think I’ll ever figure out where everything is. I fear I’ll get lost quite often.” (Y/n) said, only half joking.

“If you do get lost, rest assured I will find you. I’d even get lost with you, if you’d like.” Shinobu grinned.

“That sounds fun,” (Y/n) looked out over the maze like courtyard and grinned in kind, “In fact, I think this could count as our first instance of being lost together.”

“And do we wish to be found?” Shinobu stepped closer, whispering conspiratorially.

“Maybe not right away.” (Y/n) smiled slyly.

They continued to walk and talk together, asking each other about their childhoods, their likes and dislikes, their dreams and ambitions. Eventually they found a nice marble bench to sit on. Their fingers remained entangled and they enjoyed the quiet of the moment.

(Y/n) took in a deep breath, as she exhaled, she rested her head on Shinobu’s shoulder.

“You aren’t becoming cursed again, are you?” Shinobu joked, pushing back (Y/n)’s hair out of her face.

(Y/n) shook her head, nuzzling Shinobu’s shoulder.

“You could check though, if you wanted.”

“Is this your way of asking for a kiss?”

“…maybe.”

Shinobu leaned back and (Y/n) took the hint, straightening up. Shinobu squeezed her hand,

“May I kiss you, (Y/n)?”

“Yes, please do.”

Shinobu wasted no time slipping her hands up to hold (Y/n)’s face. She tilted her head to the right and her lips found home as another round of fireworks lit the sky.

[famousnightmareposter]

I had a dream about centricide ancap sitting on a bed with a litter of realicide egoism cat boys and a ancom cat boy (Cat person because Quee uses neopronouns?). I'm pretty sure ancap said not again or something along those lines. I think I also dreamt up a image of two animated barbies with communalism on the red barbie and cultmun(It said cultmun I swear!) on the white one.

[shadowgurl101]

VIII(The Dinner)

Masterlist

----------- King Epsilon thought it was a good idea for the three royal families to have dinner together, the king was looking around the dining room as maids cleaned around the room. King Epsilon knew it was a bad idea but he did not care. Epsilon walks towards the chambers where king Viserys is staying, knocking the king waits for the doors to open. "Your grace" Queen Alicent opened the door and saw Epsilon standing "Queen Alicent may I come in?" Alicent stepped to the side and let the king in, entering the room he saw maesters of lune walking around "My king" Maester Carlos greet the king and bowed "Maester Carlos Quomodo rex?" Maester Carlos's side eye Alicent "Sanitas regis est questus melior" Epsilon nodded and looked at Viserys who is in bed sitting up "Is he going to be able to have dinner with us?" he asked as the maester nodded "Moving will do good for his bones" Epsilon nodded and turn to the queen "Dinner will be tonight, a guard will come to look for you and your family" Alicent nodded and watch as the King of Lune left.

The doors of the dining room opened as Amalthea enter the room and went to her chair "Beautiful night isn't it?" Viserys asks as he looks out the window of the dining room making everyone look at him "Yes a beautiful night... We going to have a full moon, I remember that Amalthea was born on a full moon... All the animals were going crazy" Aquila said as everyone looked at her and smile. Prince Aemond look up from the table and made eye contact with Amalthea who smiles at him making him turn his sight back to the table, red spreading on his cheeks. Amalthea kept her eyes on the one-eyed prince as voices went all around the room. Plates now full of food both royal family start eating. "Quee Aquila I have a question?" said the queen turning her head to Alicent and nodding "When is princess Amalthea becoming queen?" Aquila smiled and took a sip of her drink and made eye contact with Amalthea "Well Amalthea will become queen when she is the age of two and one" Alicent nodded and turned to her father and took a sip of her own drink.

Prince Aegon bit a piece of his food and turn red, sweat dripping from his forehead "Aegon are you alright?" Alicent asks her son. Aegon grabs his cup and chugs his drink "Oh dear is he alright?"  Amalthea just smirks and continues eating. Aemond sees the smirk looks between her and his brother. Epsilon went to Aegon and check his food "He is going to be fine...he just ate a jalapeno" He looked at one of the maids "Bring some milk for the prince" Otto look at Amalthea "You think this is funny?" making his way over to her making her quickly get up and face him, gripping her wrist "Careful Hightower you may be the king's hand but you nor the kings family have any authority in this kingdom" Otto clench his hand and was pushed back by a guard "Careful Hightower you don't want to start a war" Daemon said as he was now on his feet along with his wife who looks concerned for the princess "Hightower step back from my daughter" Otto look at the princess who just stares at him waiting for a move.

Otto step back when Nash got up and push him back "My grandmother said to step back" Otto was grabbed by his arm by the king who made him turn to look at him "You ever do that again and I will send you back to Oldtown" Alicent look at her father and shake her head. Aemond turned to the princess who was now sitting, he catch her attention and bow his head down. Amalthea understanding his action nodded and gave him a quick smile.

After dinner, Amalthea and her guard walk to her chambers when Aemond appears "Princess Im sorry for my grandsire" Amalthea just shook her head "Is not your fault prince Aemond it's not your fault" It was Aemond's turn to shake his head "I know that but he should not have grabbed you like that" Amalthea grab his hand making him step back but she quickly pulled him back to her "Its fine Prince Aemond, I can see that he thinks he has more power just because he is the king's hand, well not here. lune and sol are separated from the seven kingdoms for a reason" Letting go of his hand she smiles at him and touches his cheek making him move his face back "Good night my prince" Aemond stepped to the side letting her pass "Good night princess"

When Amalthea got to her chambers she says her goodnight to her guard and lay on her bed with a small smile.

----------------

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Have a good day, night, afternoon, or morning. Talk to you in the next chapter

Quomodo rex- How is the king

Sanitas regis est questus melior- The king's health is getting better

[tertain-the-original]

I’ve never had this much attention to my art on tumblr before, here are some of my favorite tags so far.

@dropoutparty YEAH they’re just as freaked as they normally would be but it’s because NOTHING bad is happening.

@quee-r-code what a wonderful compliment.

@fuguhui-8 I WAS GOING TO but I decided there wasn’t enough room in the drawing.

@rainbow-feather-22 AHHAHAHA YES

@beetle-punk once again, this is such a high honor compliment. Thank you!

@sometimes-sleeby-octopus THANK YOU I love Red Guy so much, he’s so fun to draw.

[my-time-at-brainrot]

more my time at sandrock ocs :) 

having quite a bit of fun going a little insane over the whole... knives out update implications and ended up writing/doodling a new dude and settling on a design for the Schrodinger's save character

also yeah this is. super ultra mega woohoo self-indulgent and absolutely off the walls AU territory but i’m already so starving for content, i have to entertain myself somehow ;w;

cut cause it’s a little long and out of focus lol, no game spoilers i think(?) and i spilled tea on my sketchbook, then attempted to cover it up with hasty terrible blood spatter in the first image which really only made it worse :)

Name: Armaros (Rose) (they/she) Age: 24 From: Atara Occupation: Farmhand/Technician, Alliance agent Likes: Poetry, birds, hot noodles Dislikes: Snow

Bio: Armaros was born to well respected academics in Atara, who passed shortly after her 5th birthday in a railway accident. Whilst in school, she learned the Alliance’s formal sign language to communicate (as she is physiologically mute), and demonstrated an eerie, prodigy-level skill with weapons, especially rapiers. Of course, this was only against striking dummies, but certain war-hungry (or war-adverse depending on your viewpoint) officials saw an opportunity where most others saw a child. She was quickly removed from her orphanage, and trained for the purposes of a highly classified investigation. Rose would be sent with a “doctor” to Highwind at 11, under the pretense of him being her “father”. Although her “father” was against the Church, he would comfort her with scripture and children’s tales he learned from his time in Meidi.

In the present, Rose is a close friend to Sonia and Lily, who are Builders in Sandrock. While visiting, she establishes a pen pal adjacent relationship with Owen that slowly turns intimate through their letters. After about another year, she will return to Sandrock sharing her true purpose: finding and eliminating Juno. 

Personality: Rose is a very bright, cheery person. Simply, they are happy when others are happy. They do have a “serious” mode, but that’s reserved for the hours she bills Atara for.

Name: Zerachiel (Zera) (he/him) Age: 41 From: Meidi Occupation: Travelling “doctor”, Alliance agent, Armaros’ interpreter  Likes: Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, maybe hot chocolate, but mostly coffee Dislikes: Filth, unorganized spaces

Bio: Zerachiel from a young age was designated by his family to serve in the Church of the Light as a minister. He wholeheartedly accepted this, and served to the best of his ability, focusing his little free time on traditional medicine. That is, until a certain traumatizing incident shook his faith to the core and led him away from the Church, and Meidi as a whole. If Duvos was keen to exploit Old World relics, then the Church’s staunch position would inevitably lead to the subjugation and deaths of many. No matter how certain believers and ministers spun their interpretations of the scripture, Zera firmly believes that the Church’s doctrine had more potential for harm than anything else. Why, it’s because of the red tape set up by the Church that medicinal progress has lagged behind. With this worldview, Zera made his way to Lucien to enlist as a soldier, however the officials there saw better use of his talents as a field doctor, an assignment he happily accepted and excelled in. Soon after, he would become embroiled in a highly classified investigation straight from Atara, sending him to Highwind with a mute child of barely 11, pretending that she was his “daughter”. 

In the present, Zera accompanies Rose nearly every place she goes as her interpreter, with the notable exception of her first Sandrock visit. Rose had avoided visiting Sonia in Sandrock further by blaming “her father’s overprotectiveness”, so Zera has played this role well. 

Personality: Can be excitable about medicine (and quick to anger over doctrine), but is otherwise a very calm, laidback man. But, he can be a drama queen over petty arguments. 

[sonntam]

Reading "I Kissed Shara Wheeler" and it is a blast. It has 25% of the vibes that Life is Strange has (which is a lot, since LiS was FULL with vibes).

Not an intellectual masterpiece, but in terms of romance and humor impeccable. Teenage girls inventing kismesis relationships, very complicated romance chess to get everyone in the position to get together and the protagonist being a tryhard quee(r)/n bitch with same taste in fictional girls as me.,

Maybe it's a sign I should put my hate for royal romances on hold and read "Red, White and Blue" after all.

[heartstoppermybeloved]

Kit Connor and Joe Locke say Heartstopper is an example of queer excellence Speaking on the red carpet at the 2022 Virgin Atlantic Attitude Awards, powered by Jaguar, Heartstopper's Kit Connor and Joe ... via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NG6NASntusI

[incorrigibill]

It all seems different now. Not smaller exactly, but contained in a way, like a lego set you have nearly completed. The number of parts is exactly the same (hopefully) as when you tore open the package and dumped them on the floor, but the way they fit together now takes up less space, at least in your head. In this case though, you have not been working to assemble it. Not consciously. You have been drifting in and out of this giant room, leaving pieces here and there, qui e li (quee a lee). You have felt frustrated at times, wondering if this giant mess in your mind would ever come together. You’ve wandered off countless times and somehow made it even messier.

And then you wandered again, slower this time, and without purpose. Alone. You lingered and circled and stared at things you knew you had seen weeks, if not months before. But still you stared. You never touched your phone. Not once. And magically, this day, it all came together, from on high, a place you would have never suspected and nearly missed.

But you didn’t. You didn’t miss it. You didn’t listen to that little voice in your head that was saying it wasn’t even ancient. That it was just a tourist attraction. That you had things to do. You have learned this about yourself, finally. The little voice, the one that criticizes and judges and urges onward at times, is not actually you. And it often is the thing keeping you from finding the answer you need.

I am sitting at Caffe Greco, on Via Condotti, near the Spanish Steps, which I see towering above me from my table on the street. But those are not actually the steps! The towering parts are the dual bell towers of the Trinità dei Monti, the Church of the Most Holy Trinity on the Mounts. But when you say the Spanish Steps, I bet most people think of the beautiful towers at the top of the steps. Or maybe it is just me.

I am the first to sit outside today and have the little street patio of Caffe Greco all to myself. It is the oldest bar in Rome, by which I mean a place for coffee, or a cafe. It opened in 1760 and its patrons have included dozens of noteworthy intellectuals and writers including Keats, Byron, Goethe, Schopenhauer, and especially Ibsen, my favorite of the “ancients.” But even Mann and Joyce and Twain were here. And it is not hard to see why. It is a beautiful cafe and exactly my color scheme too—red walls, red upholstery and just the right amount of dark wood accents throughout. And it is curious inside too. Little passages and nooks and some larger rooms too. Something for everyone.

I tried to find a place inside—it was a bit chilly outside—but today nothing seemed right to me. I’m grateful that I persisted in my search and wandered back outside. Sometimes in Rome, a mere ten minutes can seem to have a temperature change of nearly the same amount. And when I looked up towards the steps and saw the bright blue sky without a cloud to be seen, I put my piccolo piquadro bag down and gazed at the tips of the bell towers, which seemed almost ablaze in the sun.

When a waiter finally emerged from inside, I had already done my homework for my order. I pointed to my phone and the picture I had taken moments before and said “Come si chiama?” “Fagottino,” he said and then waited for me to respond. “Crema? Ricotta?” I asked. “Ricotta, si, un something something, raisin, caramel,” he said. Two kinds. I of course asked for un caffe and the something, something, raisin, caramel. He nodded and was off and I took out my blue book, the one that is nearly full now, and started scribbling, which is an accurate description of my handwriting on a cool morning.

When I crossed the Tiber earlier, I remembered this street. I remembered too seeing the huge Lego store and the Ferrari store further back. And much further back, near what I now call the Piazza Cavour—and then called the Supreme Court building—I happened by the French bistro that my friend Walid had pointed out my first or second week here some two months ago now. That I had not even seen it since then tells you much about human beings and their tendencies towards tighter and tighter rings, especially if you knew how close it actually is to the CEA center where I go several days a week. It all seemed so disconnected then and so vast. A clear idea of things seemed it might never emerge.

But it did, yesterday. I had planned to go to the Baths of Caracalla with Jason in the early afternoon, but when he cancelled to get some grading done, I thought I would enjoy wandering back there anyway. The last time I was there was over thirty years ago and I do recall being impressed then with the intricate tile work and the enormity of it all. If there is one thing you need to give the early Romans credit for, it is thinking big. But as I took the first few steps out of my apartment, I found myself veering towards the Piazza di Popolo and Via del Corso, and the idea of the baths seemed to just drift away. I do not know exactly what drives me at times, but I know it is not ruins or antiquity. It is something much more alive.

I love Via del Corso. It is such a modern experience in so many ways. So many shops. So many people wandering the streets. It reminds me of the Minnesota State Fair streets, packed with people, seemingly purposeless—out for a stroll and some window shopping. But after being in Pompei and the areas around the Forum, I wonder if it hasn’t always been this way. People always seem to be drawn to other people, and of course a little food and maybe a little something nice.

Via del Corso also draws a straight line from Piazza di Popolo all the way to the Victor Emmanuel Monument, also known as Altare della Patria (Altar of the Fatherland). It is impossible to miss from almost anywhere along the street. The enormity of it and the enormous winged equestrian sculptures flanking the ends soar over the city below. As I looked back over my shoulder toward the Piazza di Popolo and its central obeslisk, I was reminded of Jan’s Roman history class and his comments about the public spaces in ancient Rome and how they were often positioned to visually connect and align with other prestigious spaces and places to increase the status and prestige of the new monument. (And especially the new monument’s honoree). It was ever thus.

That feeling became much more pronounced when I decided traverse all of Via del Corso and to climb the stairs at the Victor Emmanuel. I had been by it before on the way to the Forum, and on the way home from the Colossium, and other times too. Yet I had never climbed the stairs. It had seemed kind of ridiculous then, vaguely like watching the Yankees on your phone while you are sitting in the stadium. That isn’t exactly right, I know, but it seemed like a cheap distraction then, a decidedly tourist thing to do. But I had nothing better to do, I had seen all this before I said to myself, and I did want to see what the Piazza di Popola looked like from way up there. So up I went.

And it was lovely. I decided to climb to the upper terrace level, above the sculpture of Victorious Victor on his high horse. It wasn’t much of a climb but I was surprised at my latent resistance to follow the excited crowds. So I did it anyway. Sometimes you just have to take total control of yourself. And that view was amazing too. The Piazza di Popolo obelisk is very faint from here, not nearly as visible as Victor from there, which says something I think, about “the people” versus “the one,” who always seems to be higher and more visible no matter what the circumstances nor the era.

I thought right then that this day, which earlier seemed the epitome of a broken play, with the misfire and the change of plans, and then the other change of plans—the randomness of it all combined with the unexpected—had suddenly become almost the pinnacle of the trip. The place where the pieces finally came together into a more coherent whole, all while doing nothing to force it. It reminded me of the article Abe Flexner once wrote about the usefulness of useless information. Sometimes, maybe most times, the real breakthroughs come when your mind is elsewhere and you are simply a creature in the world.

But even creatures will need to find an exit from the top of the Victor’s High Horse. In the post-Covid era, the idea of an exit as something different from a reverse entrance has taken firm hold. I tried to go back down the same stairs I ascended but was stopped and redirected. And then found another set and asked the police officer where the exit was—uscita? I must’ve said it just right because she launched into full blown high-speed Italian, gestures included, and all I could do was say “Si, Si, Si—grazie,” and move away, still confused but more like a local than a foreigner. I followed a stream of people into a small stairway, and then a passageway, and emerged back into the open air with what seemed the same scenic views. But they were not.

I walked up to the edge and looked out and immediately saw the Colosseum. And tracing a line back from there, went right over the Forum and all those places within that space that we had stopped and listened to Jan wax not exactly poetic, but perhaps emphatic, about anything and everything in that place. Suddenly, almost shockingly, all of Rome—my Rome—snapped into place. Piazza di Popola to Vittorio Emmanuel to the Colosseum to the Forum and even the Spanish Steps. I stepped back for a few minutes and then took it all in again. It is all of a piece now. Interconnected. Linked. I finally have a sense of what I’ve been walking through and around for nearly three months.

With the newfound enthusiasm of a model almost complete, I simply had to backtrack to the Pantheon and the Piazza Navonna on my way home and snap them into place too. They are very familiar pieces and I could almost put them on blind-folded, but I did it anyway and then went back to the Piazza di Popola just to make a full circle. Because my circle is almost complete too. I head home in less than two weeks and now I feel like I can carry all of this back with me. Finally.

(By the way, that pastry above, the fagottino—most delicious thing I’ve had in Rome.)

[furnitureshoppingday]

Red Roses Duvet Cover Set Quee ... Price 28.69$ CLICK TO BUY

[lunathegalacticwolf]

It's about time I said some actual OC personalities and stuff like that.

These are for my ScaredyCatz AU I'm working on. I'm collaborating with @spookykittyzzz

Anyways, here are my OCs I'm using (these are just some rough ideas, so anything I don't mention will be left up for interpretation)

Prazi

Personality

- Friendly

- VERY protective over Pomni

- Kinda hates Jax (he mean)

- LOVES headpats

Random stuff

- He is an animal, but his species is unknown, but he definitely isn't a dog or cat (and my forbidden pet au kind of implies he isn't a raccoon either tbh, but that's for me to know and you to find out)

- He gets aggressive and VERY bitey when someone is rude to Pomni

- He absolutely hates when his species is assumed (hell, he forgot his own species when he entered the circus)

- He has no mouth (Zooble and Kinger have entered the chat)

- The eyes on his head and tail are completely functional

- He can only speak in static, whines, chitters, or yodel noises, no actual words. (Mostly yodel noises when he's happy or angry)

- He's trained similar to how a dog is trained (he isn't a dog though, I've already established that)

Pepper

Personality

- Sweet

- A bit clumsy

- Very nerdy

Random stuff

- She is an animal, a black Labrador Retriever specifically

- Ever since entering the circus, she could speak English and she stopped being able to understand animals (she even forgot she WAS a dog to begin with)

- She likes to eat chocolate (only in the circus, not in the real world because sHe'S a dOg)

- She has the freckles in the real world, but that's just because it's the beginnings of vitiligo (which is absolutely beautiful btw, google it)

- She's able to eat her red paw and it'll appear back a few seconds after being eaten, it's basically her infinite peppermint stash

- Same with the chocolate drips on her back and head

Gloinky

Personality

- Energetic

- VERY obnoxious

- Kind of annoying

Random stuff

- They can speak, but they can only say "Gloink," their own name, "Gloink Quee," (not a misspell, I did that on purpose) or "Gloinks Come." (Yeah, basically a lot of gibberish)

- They're against the Gloink Queen

- They've been in the cellar before out of curiosity (yeah, they hated it)

- Since they can't say many words, no one knows their actual gender, so everyone just calls them whatever they want

- They get along with Ragatha the most

- They have their own room, however, they prefer to be with Ragatha (she's their bestie)

Cloud

Personality

- Sweet

- Kinda naive

- LOVES cuddles

Random stuff

- She was created after Bubble was and he claimed her as his "baby sister"

- When she's confused, she makes cat chirp noises (look it up if you don't know what that means)

- She may or may not have a crush on Sun and Sun may or may not be too stupid to get the hint 😏 (gay people) (Disclaimer: Cloud is a consenting adult)

- Bubble calls her his "baby sister" just to be annoying

- When she's annoyed, she has the blankest expression imaginable (basically this: 😑)

- Her voice sounds like Wolfychu (look Wolfychu up on YouTube if you don't know who she is)

Maximus

Personality

- Kind of flirty towards men

- A bit mischievous

- LOVES pranks (you totally can't guess who his best friend is lol)

Random stuff

- He's a smooth talker (as in deep, calming-type voice. Basically, he sounds like Spyro)

- He was a rapper in the real world

- He's still a teenager, specifically 15 years old

- He's VERY gay

- His digital avatar is a wolfdog. Thought I'd say that so you don't mistake him for a full wolf or full dog.

- He has a skull tattoo on his upper back (Zooble "totally" didn't do it at all)

- He calls Jax a "Jaxrabbit" (yeah, I'm SO funny)

God, this took SO freaking long. And yes, Jax DOES give the nicknames just to be rude like he does with literally everyone, so you can give them a nickname you think Jax would call them if you want, idrc.

If information on Iveri is needed, it's all on my Wattpad page, IndigoTheHusky.

[studio34-artspace]

DRAWING IS A VERB

Taney Roniger                                 March 4 – April 8, 2023    Opening Reception:  Saturday, March 4, 5-8pm­­

Artist talk:  Friday, April 7, 6pm

Studio 34 is pleased to  present Drawing is a Verb, an exhibition of large-scale drawings by  Taney Roniger. Made over the last two years, the works explore not what  drawings can mean or signify but rather what they can do to the body of the  viewer.

Inspired by a book by  Sarah Robinson titled Architecture is a Verb, Roniger began the series  by thinking about how conditions of light can alter moods and states of  consciousness. Soon she began thinking about spatial conditions as well,  coming to focus on spaces that evoke our earliest ancestry as a species.  Using charcoal because of the unique way it interacts with her paper’s  surface, she began making drawings meant to evoke these earliest conditions.  In the resulting series, settings such as the ocean, the horizon, and the  forest become recurring motifs, appearing not in their literal form but by  subtle suggestion. With their quietly rhythmic and luminous presence, the  drawings communicate a deep sense of home.

For Roniger, the  experience of the viewer is primary. “So much art these days is about the  identity of the artist,” she says. “My work, by contrast, is all about the  viewer. I want to make things that eclipse me altogether, things that speak  of – and to – the body experiencing them.” In conceiving of her work as  speaking to the body, Roniger’s ultimate aim is to create a physical  experience of our continuity with the natural world. “If I do my job right,”  she says, “even the viewer will be eclipsed. Ideally, all that will be left  will be a deeply felt sense of belonging to the world.”

In conjunction with the  exhibition, the gallery will host a conversation between Roniger and artist,  writer, and curator Daniel Hill. The event will take place on Friday, April 7th  at 6:00pm.

______

Taney Roniger is an  artist and writer based  in New York. A painter for many years, she has recently turned to drawing,  finding it to be the most direct visual expression of the intelligence of the  human body. Her work has been shown in a number of venues here and abroad,  including: Robert Henry Contemporary, Lesley Heller Workspace, Sperone  Westwater, The Islip Art Museum, and StandPipe Gallery in New York; the  Contemporary Arts Center and The Front in New Orleans; and the Pera Museum in  Istanbul, Turkey. Her awards and honors in the visual arts include three  Yaddo fellowships, a grant from the Pollock-Krasner Foundation, and a  traveling fellowship from the Stacey Sussman Cavrell Memorial Foundation.  Since 2012, she has been a contributing writer at The Brooklyn Rail,  for which she served as Guest Editor in December 2017. Her writing has also  appeared in Interalia, Hyperallergic, Whitehot Magazine, Big Red &  Shiny, Transverse, and On-Verge. In 2016 she was a finalist for  the Creative Capital Arts Writers Grant in short-form non-fiction. Over the  last ten years she has organized numerous arts-related symposia, among them  Thingly Affinities: Rethinking Aesthetic Form for a Posthumanist Future,  Beyond Kandinsky: Revisiting the Spiritual in Art, Strange Attractors: Art,  Science, and the Question of Convergence, and Stop the Interrogation, a critical  look at nonsense language in the visual arts. She holds an MFA from Yale  University and a BFA from the School of Visual Arts, where she teaches in the  Fine Arts Department and Honors Program.

STUDIO 34 - 34-01 38th Ave Long Island City NY 11101

Hours Friday 11 – 6 and by appointmentFor appointment contact Eliza Barnes at elizaclarkbarnes@gmail.com(607) 435-6908.LOCATION Studio 34 is on the fourth floor of the Pierce-Arrow building in Long Island City, NY. Any of the following trains will get you there:

- R/M trains to 36th St stop, exit at 34th St stairs and cross Northern Blvd. Pierce-Arrow building behind 7-11/Shell.-

N/W trains to 39th Ave stop, walk one block to Northern Blvd, go left to 34th St.-

E train to Queensboro Plaza stop, exit at 41st Ave stairs and walk east four blocks.-

7 train to Queensboro Plaza stop, walk south to Northern Blvd, go east four blocks.

[nautical-language]

Havent yet seen anyone compile the collector’s bedtime story and castle paintings into a red string theory post for The Owl House S3E2, so here’s that…

Our Collector’s bedtime story:

“Collectors live long, we watch things pass. To preserve, to observe, we must amass. What flies, what swims, be it predator, or prey, seal them up so they may never fade.”

We get a shot of the next line in the book, which Our Collector tells king not to read. It says:

“But should they meddle in our affairs, we’ll clean the planet and scorch the air.”

Our Collector tried to scribble over that part and wrote on top of a picture underneath it: “But playing is more fun, make friends instead, and the others STINK! BOO!!”

The picture that was written on looks like a group of people offering praise to three huge adult collectors.

We also get a little peak at some of the words on the facing page: “-se quee-“ and “-s the poten-“ and further down, “-erdimensi-“ and “dimension” and “family”

Then, in the scene where king walks down the hall, paintings line the walls.

On the left...

1a. (Closest to the viewer): three adult (?) blue collectors gathered around an orb; a little purple collector (Our Collector?) is off to the side

1b. In the foreground, a little blue collector and a big blue collector examining titan skulls. In the background, there is what appears at first glance to be a titan (yellow eyes), but upon closer inspection it looks like the titan hunter in the next painting.

1c. Again, at first glance it looks like a small titan fighting two big titans (both with red eyes), but given what we know, this is more likely a titan hunter going up against actual titans

1d. Four blue adult collectors smiling down at a purple collector/Our Collector?

1e. (Furthest from the viewer): four baby titans (all with red eyes) gathered around a purple collector/Our Collector? It looks like they are all floating in space

On the right…

2a. (Closest to viewer): a solar system?

2b. A yellow comet that seems to be falling from the sky into a mountain range

2c. A huge sun with a smiling face looming huge behind some mountains

2d. A crescent moon; on the dark half of the moon, an oval shape that looks like it could be a big yellow/orange eye

2e. (Furthest from viewer): a moon with a smiling face?

More paintings can be seen in other shots.

Behind Odalia: repeats of images we saw already, specifically 1a, 2b and 2d. There’s a fourth image behind her that looks like a new one; we get a clearer look at it later, but all we can see of it in this shot looks like the same comet from 2b.

In the hall near the entrance to Eda’s “room:” More repeats, but all of these paintings are slashed, which may have been the work of Eda in her owl monster form

There’s also another hallway shot with more new paintings when puppet-Raine-possessed-by-Belos is walking toward the collector’s room.

On the left...

3a. (Closest to viewer): Repeat of 1a.

3b. Three blue adult collectors looming over and glaring down at two titans (both with red eyes), one of whom looks like one of the titans who was fighting the titan hunters in 1c.

3c. repeat of 1b.

3d. (Furthest from viewer): repeat of 1c.

On the right…

4a. (Closest to viewer): a repeat, but the clearest shot so far of 2d. Definitely looks like part of someone’s face, with a big yellow/orange eye peeking out from the dark half of a crescent moon. Below the moon, three comets and then clouds

4b. repeat of 2c

4c. probably a repeat of the fourth mystery painting behind Odalia, but this time it’s unobstructed; a big bright star/comet in the background behind a smaller crescent moon

4d. repeat of 2a

4e. blurry, but definitely the moon. Cant see any more detail than that.

4f. (Furthest from viewer): also blurry, but maybe a half-moon/half-sun reminiscent of Our Collector’s face

Then there’s the scene with king, Eda and Lilith that Our Collector eavesdrops on. Lilith mentions “borrowed books” and we see a scroll next to King that has the same color text as Our Collector’s bedtime story book. The scroll depicts a baby titan using its powers to knock out a little purple collector.

Lilith goes on to say it looks like titan magic can cancel out collector powers and that’s why the collectors wiped out the titans.

With all this info, here’s what I think (TLDR):

The collectors are inter-dimensional overlords. They discovered the boiling isles, then ruled by the titans. The titan hunters and titans may have already been at war when the collectors showed up. Our Collector made friends and played with some baby titans, but the other collectors were threatened by titan magic, which made them powerless, so they used a bunch of the titan hunters (maybe even possessed them, based on the yellow eyes in 1b?) to wipe out the titans. Before they all died, though, the titans saved one of their babies (King) and sealed away Our Collector.

However, I’m not 100% sure what to make of the paintings on the right side of the hallway in either shot, other than to further establish collectors as semi-omnipotent inter-dimensional beings.