Curate, connect, and discover
that's the main thing 🙂↕️🥰
Today in the shower I was thinking about how absolutely insane soap would be in a sleeping beauty scenario
Meeting you at the celebration of your birth, when he’s just a little boy himself. Markedly unimpressed. And yet, when you’re spirited away to live with your fairies— he feels strangely robbed.
He chases a fulfillment that cannot come to pass. A soldier in many battles, many quests under his belt, all in pursuit of purpose. A stray arrow tucks itself into his skull, and the emptiness grows more cavernous and hungry.
Then, to see a gorgeous thing like you dancing with his cloak, reflected crisp and clear in the pond water of the glen… he’s just a man. Maybe something less, actually. But even if he is a beast, doesn’t he deserve to live?
He delights in how you nearly scream when he pulls you against him.
“Ah’m no stranger, bonnie. Ye said yerself, nae? We met before— jus’ in yer dreams, hen.”
He has half a mind (in more ways than one) to pin you to the forest floor against your precious wildflowers and ravage you senseless, but he’s able to restrain himself when you say you want to see him again. Tomorrow, in the same place. He likes this little game of courting— the wait is bitter, but the fruit is sweet, isn’t it?
And he felt it, when he was with you. The pinpricks of a doll maker’s needle gliding between his ribs. Suturing the tear left in his chest. He’s done being rearranged inside. He’s ready to be put back together.
Thus, the lengths to which he goes to find you. The thorns that bruise and tear, the dracofire scorching his shield.
He’s going to kiss the sleeping princess if it’s the last thing he does.