#cause i was also very upset by that man

[forabeatofadrum]

El WooWoo! I have finished Persona 4 Golden (mom holy fuck-) so I have something to share again. Thank you @artsyunderstudy, @bookish-bogwitch and @that-disabled-princess for tagging me and @martsonmars, @wellbelesbian, @whatevertheweather for the Sunday tags.

I just got home from a local Pride event. It was a lot of fun, especially the part where I hit a homophobe with a protest sign. Everybody clapped.

First off, I have revised my submission for the @klainefanzine2025. There's one part I'm stuck on, so I might ask one of the beta's to help me out here. Tenses in the English language are wack, you know? (Although... Dutch isn't much better.) (Sexy fokschaap, anyone?)

AND! I DID WRITING! LJUBILI SE! As I keep saying, I am stuck and I think I will remain stuck. I last published chapter 9 and my head is still :p when it comes to chapter 10, 11 and 12, but I just finished chapter 13! 🥳

Have some of that for this fine Wednesday:

The doorbell rings. Cooper jumps up. “My package!” he runs off towards the door, and Quinn and Blaine share a look. It’s probably Denise. They’ve told their families that Quinn’s “friend” is joining them, but Cooper must’ve forgotten that in his excitement. And they’re right. Cooper returns without a package, but with Denise in tow. Ideally, Denise would’ve come to the Anderson house with Blaine and Quinn, but she had an appointment. “Dee!” Quinn says and also gets up. She introduces Denise as her friend. Judy already knows Denise a little bit, but Blaine’s parents have no idea who she is. If their families think it’s weird that Denise is here, they don’t show. In fact, Cooper seems very excited to her again. He immediately shakes her hand, puts on a dazzling smile, and asks her all kinds of questions about herself. Blaine and Quinn share another look, although this time they’re amused. Blaine’s brother is flirting with Quinn’s girlfriend right in front of their noses.

Lil reminder: Cooper met Denise at the airport!

And now, the weather: @quizasvivamos @coffeegleek @caramelcoffeeaddict @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @confused-bi-queer @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @cutestkilla ​ @facewithoutheart ​ @shrekgogurt @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @esilher @kurtsascot @blackberrysummerblog @nightimedreamersghost @ivelovedhimthroughworse @thnxforknowingme

[braceletofteeth]

1x01 || 1x04

[skibasyndrome]

.

[milkweedman]

Started another crochet bag....I did try to knit it first but I think I might need to get some wooden dpns, because my metal ones are just too heavy for a lace fabric and keep twisting and falling and generally causing problems. So I'm crocheting the base and then I might switch to knitting for the sides, depending on how it goes.

Ive also noted that I need some kind of pillow for my powerchair. The headrest is way too far back and hurts. I want it to be washable or maybe have a washable cover, since my head will be directly touching it for most of the day whenever I'm finally able to use it. I'm thinking I'll make the pillow out of cotton and find some kind of natural cotton filling (I do have polyfill but I'm trying to move away from all plastic fibers and also polyfill for a pillow sounds bad). And then I will probably try and sew 3 or 4 pillowcases.

I got a free sewing machine that may or may not work after I dropped it on the ground trying to bring it inside. Might try that as a first project on it, doesn't sound too hard as sewing projects go.

Also need a pillow to sit on but im gonna buy a gel one probably, I don't think a cotton pillow is gonna cut it.

[aq2003]

twelfth night is not a Shakespeare I have read or seen but now I’m a bit terrified of ever consuming it. I definitely would never touch that audio drama with a 10 foot pole though (so so tempting. I might give in)

i was normal about twelfth night and held many normal emotions about it i really liked it for being this fun very messy queer drama until i listened to david tennant malvolio which ruined my life i cannot stress enough all of my evil derangements are because of david tennant malvolio if he had not done any of that i would have been FINE

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[familyofpaladins]

I HAD A REVELATION

okay so I was thinking about gender. My gender. And my feelings about being a cis girl over time.

When I was little I used to wear all kinds of dresses and wore nail polish and even occasionally makeup (but like. Sloppily as a 7 year old would lol) and how overtime I stopped wearing nail polish and stopped wearing dresses and despised make up. I dont really remeber why I stopped with nail polish. Maybe because it flaked off too easily or maybe I was sick of the few colors we had idk. I know I gradually stopped wearing dresses and night gowns because I was sick of being told I couldnt "put my legs up [up against the wall or just straight up in the air] or that I had to sit a certain way while wearing one. So I wore more and more pants.

I think about how i used to stand in the toys aisles while my mom did grocery shopping and look at "The Boys" section and think how much cooler it was than the girls section.

And I think about how my music teacher told us one day we'd hit puberty and we'd grow and us girls would be like "[in a high pitched voice] OH MY GOSH I LOVE BOYS AND DID YOU HEAR ABOUT SO AND SO" and I looked over at my classmates and friends to see if they were also terrified of becoming annoying teenage boy-obsessed girls.

And i think about how when I was at my friend's house and we were building "tree forts" in the woods i would wish I had a penis for the convenience of being able to just go pee behind a tree, because squatting near the ground was Not Fun and I hated walking all the way back to the house. And I think about how I hated that I'd have to wear a bra once my boobs started to come in

Now you might be thinking. Friend I think you want[ed] to be a boy. But the thing is, i dont.

I may have hated being restricted in dresses but I dont actually hate them. I've gotten a couple dresses in the last 10 years (for prom and graduation and a [not my] wedding) and how I actually did like how I looked in them and enjoyed wearing them for that time.

I think about how I was jealous of the boys selection of toys, but also how I had a ton of barbies that I massively enjoyed and how if I'd been a boy I probably wouldnt have been able to enjoy them (thanks to pressure from society) as well as a bunch of other "girly" items and shows and movies. I think about how I'm actually Asexual and that I wasnt scared of becoming "a young woman", I just didnt understand the obsession with sex/romance/boyfriend&girlfriend stuff.

And while having a penis is more convenient for peeing I also remeber thinking that it would suck to get kicked in the balls and/or that trope of falling on soemthign between your legs that happens in so many movies (not that it feels any better with a vagina honestly). And that if I had been born a boy I'd most likely have to deal with all the toxic masculinity forced on me, and I'm glad I dont have to deal with that.

And while me and my boobs dont always get along, I remember that after getting my first cute bra, I thought. Oh well maybe this isnt so bad. And I mostly wear sports bras now because I do wish they were smaller and I HATE that so many bras (EVEN THE SPORTS BRAS) are already padded into cup shapes, and while I don't mind Having Boobs, i Do Not want to show them off. And sometimes i think that maybe i wouldn't mind chopping them off, but then i think how my figure/outline/silhouette would look with out them, and that seems worse.

And i think about the times I've accidentally been called "Sir" from tired fast food employees when wearing gender nonspecific clothing and felt happy about it. But not "oh it feels right to be called sir/he/him" , but more of "hehe I fooled you! You thought this was a dress but its pants!"

And really this is all to say. I was born a girl and grew up that way so it's what I'm used to. If I'd been born with a dick then I guess I'd be a guy. If you magically stuck me in a male body right now, would I feel like a Guy or feel like a girl in a guys body? I honestly dont know. So am I non binary? Maybe that that doesnt quite feel right either.

Being a girl is what I've grown up as and into, and it's what I'm used to and going by anything else is… odd. Maybe itd be better and maybe it wouldnt. It's like an old blanket. You've had it forever and maybe its frayed and patched maybe a little too small and it's not what people expect you to have for a blanket, and maybe you could do with a new one. But nothing feels right with out it. No other blanket feels the same. It's what you're used to and its familar. It's a comfort blanket.

And that's why being a [cis] girl is my comfort gender.

[stupidlittlespirit]

.

[markiafc]

trying to put into words what i think about dad, possessed. and i am brought back to the first time i read summer sons ch 23 where eddie was revealed to have assaulted andrew. but "eddie wasn't himself" & it was because something nasty and dirty and truly evil got into eddie and made him do it. something external. and andrew understands its not eddie who hurt him, but he can't get away from the experience of eddie's body and eddie's face and eddie's voice; in action and/or in his memory, it was just eddie hurting him.

not one-to-one with what happens in s1e22 devil's trap. but it's close. dad but not dad. something that's forcing dad to do this and he does not want to do it; but it's unclear if the demon is bringing out an ugly side of dad or if this is the demon's will. dean, how do you know? he's different. he's just different somehow. he's gonna tear you apart. he's gonna taste the iron in your blood. dad, don't let the dark temptation inside you kill me. dad, please. etc. it's him, he's just not himself right now. his eyes are different but it's just dad we see.

and, above all, both situations make prominent the love. without the love, they're just cruel and sadistic tormentors who love to punish & hurt. but the same actions and words can become bearable if it was framed in the context of love and if the badness comes from a place of enormous love. when the "real" person overcomes dark passenger to regain control and re-emerge loving, everything is forgiven. now it is all okay because he's back, thank god he loves me again.

[nillial]

me n the roomie were contemplating what would happen if our dnd characters knew each other in high school and the conclusion we came to is that a) her character is really torn up about her middle school girlfriend and cannot get over her b) her character would be SUCCHHHH a hater to scrunglys boyfriend she would HATE HIM and when they inevitably get married after graduation she looks like shes trying not to run over him with her car in every single wedding picture. and c) when scrungly and his man get divorced exactly one year later they work at the gas station together which of course means they get high 2gether at the night shift . unfortunately scrungly gets scared when he smokes weed . he doesnt understand that it is the weed that does this . he just thinks that the gas station is just scary

[simptasia]

also unless tuvok's ancestors are a part of the 10,000, this universe will never have a version of tuvok. they pre-killed tuvok :(

[spidey-official]

ms. Romanoff is the KINDEST person ever no matter what anyone says!!!! she just sat next to me on the couch, and she let me rant about my day and didn't even stop me when I went off on tangents!!!!! she asked questions!!!!!!!!! she said we should hang out more often, AND she said she could train me in hand-to-hand!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[seventh-district]

in other news i cannot stop fucking listening to Brokenheartsville by Joe Nichols and i’m starting to annoy myself with it but. i cannot stop. it’s too good

[cats-in-the-clouds]

i fear there are few things worse than having a friend with paper-thin skin who easily spirals into self-hatred and deprecation at the slightest inconvenience to them and can never be consoled… who is also genuinely mean and inconsiderate as a result of spending the majority of their time focusing on themselves in such a negative vicious cycle and needs to be gently admonished except you know full well if you do so they are just going to jump down even deeper into the pit of despair and not even listen. so you can neither say anything they don’t like nor cut ties with them lest they wail and lament that you really have secretly hated them all along and they guess they’re just a bad person etc etc the only action you are allowed to perform toward them is to continue giving them ceaseless validation that they won’t even absorb in an attempt to either console them in one of their fits or to satisfy the massive ego they pretend to have even though it’s clear as day they really just hate themselves and don’t realize that that’s a form of selfishness too

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of Emiko, Emi and Mina, Ultraman form, Kenji being a little needy (once again), fluff, a little something to warm our hearts and minds so dreamy.

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Underneath, and sometimes over, tight-fitting t-shirts and extremely expensive fabrics, wear a necklace; however, there is something special there. — His promise ring hangs on the gold chain; like a talisman, something that surrounds he with luck and passion. — Staying attached and close to you, even with a small object.

⤷ If he needs to think or try to decide something dramatically important and you're not around, Sato will take his fingers to the necklace and hold the ring; looking for guidance. — Oh, and waking up, before him, and contemplating that shiny and significant piece, which rests on his broad chest, is angelic.

⭑.ᐟ It's not uncommon to feel, in the middle of the night, Kenji's face trying, persistently, on your neck; readily, wanting to harness the huge and strong body between your. — He doesn't care about the grotesque difference in size, just at that moment, and he doesn't give up.

“Kenji, be careful…!” — Your voice, fully, drunk with sleep and maintaining stillness, murmured between the boy's black and shiny locks; who only responded with a snore, more like a purr and clinging even tighter to you.

⭑.ᐟ Sato can't keep his hands off you, no matter what's going on, what you're doing or what simple task you're performing; hands on your waist, kisses on every exposed and revealed part of your body, thin and wide fingers catching on some part of your clothes. — Don't be upset with him, this poor man is in love with you.

⤷ One day, Mina compared him to a sloth and obviously got a frown of disapproval and the adorable Emi observes how her “father” remains so attached to her “mother”. — Even laughing and grunting when he saw a completely sleepy and desperate Ken crawling towards you.

⭑.ᐟ Please, we have, we need to talk about all the times Kenji and Emi train together, most of the time, being just leisure moments, you sit in the stands, virtually, scheduled and cheer for them; accompanied by Mina. — The feeling of nostalgia, remembering an incredible part of his life, is exposed in Ken's chest; remembering his mother.

⭑.ᐟ I can easily imagine Ken pressing his nose against your cheek or neck wanting your attention; also, when he wants to show you the way Emi is sleeping, enjoying the baby's sweetness. — And, together, pressing his forehead against yours during countless moments of the day and night, when you get home after confronting some creature and every time he want to say "i love you" to you.

⭑.ᐟ This man knows you like the back of his hand; no one can disagree or dispute this fact. — Kenji pays attention to your gestures, noticing your body language and, for a matter of seconds, he knows that something is bothering you; and, there he is, dedicating himself, with all his attention, to doing his girl well.

⭑.ᐟ Funny situations, for Ken, between you and his Ultraman form are included in your lives. — Once, while chasing Aboras, he ended up finding you on the street, wanting to go home, and clearly he was distracted by wanting to cause a provocation. — Mina gave the boy a long, and rightly so, scolding.

“Go back to the house, young lady.” — The robotic voice filled a part of the city's environment, wanting to convey an authoritarian image. — “You know…” — He pointed one of his gigantic fingers in your direction, then towards the place he was. — “The streets have been very dangerous lately.” — Oh, you stopped yourself from answering him like you really wanted to.

“Thank you, so much, for the advice, Ultraman.”

⭑.ᐟ There are nights — many, many nights — that Ken spends watching, contemplating you sleeping, peacefully; your face remained full, without signs of tiredness, exquisite and messy locks spread out, this was adored by the player's eyes. — Between seconds of fascination, Kenji longed, dreamed, deeply and painfully, of his mother meeting you; this way, she would have the chance to know the light that raised her dear son.

⤷ Kenji prospers, sometimes praying, that one day his mother will return, safe and sound, and be able to achieve what he wants so much in his life.

[rafey-baby]

forbidden fruit

Once upon a time there was a princess and a hunter...

snow white!reader x hunter!rafe

18+ mdni!

c/w: mentions of violence (he holds a knife to her throat & threatens to kill her), her being a naive sheltered princess, some angst & some fluff & him being slightly suggestive? also if it’s not obvious this is *loosely* based on the story of snow white

wc: 3k

ahh the first part is here xx

moodboard

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

“Do you have a favorite flower?”  

The quietness that follows makes her wonder if the brooding man alongside her had heard her question at all.   

She’s not entirely certain why the queen had been so adamant that this grumpy huntsman was to accompany her on this peculiar evening walk, when she’s never even uttered a word to him before— doesn’t even know his name.   

When she’d asked why they had to go so suddenly and after the sunset had already colored the skyline with its cherry tinge, he’d merely muttered something along the lines of ‘following Her Majesty’s orders’.   

She’s well aware of her stepmother’s disdain for her, never quite understanding why her father had married such a cold woman to begin with. However, it has never been in her wishes to upset her any further than she apparently does by simply existing, which is why she’d quietly agreed without much resistance— even if the request had seemed rather strange to her.       

“Uh…I dunno, they all sort of look the same to me, Your Highness,” the sudden rumble interrupts her thoughts.   

“Oh,” she’s slightly taken aback by the gravel in his tone, offering him her own answer nonetheless. “I love daisies.”

“Right,” he mumbles out; mind apparently lost somewhere else entirely as he keeps leading her deeper and deeper into the grim, bleak woods. With every step she takes, the leafy trees begin to turn into something impending, sinister— their slender branches beginning to resemble bony fingers, merely waiting for the right moment to latch onto her and claw at her arms.  

Therefore, she’d much rather hear his voice instead of this daunting lull in their conversation (if she could even call it that). Unfortunately, what she’s gathered from their brief interactions so far, is that the preferred topic of discussion for a man— a hunter like him, is silence. 

And that’s something the murky forest around them is already far too generously presenting her with; this late into the day not even the bluebirds chirp their delightful melodies to make the eerily serene atmosphere of this prolonged journey of theirs a little less dreadful.  

“What’s, um, what’s your name?” she attempts to have him speak some more.   

“Rafe,” he merely offers her a fleeting glance; as if it’s the most tedious thing in the world to even utter out his own name to her.  

Rafe. 

Upon further observation of the rugged lines of his face, she decides it suits him. What doesn’t suit him, however, is the ever-present scowl staining his (rather handsome) features. It’s almost as if something is tormenting him, acidic, putrid on his tongue.  

“Is something wrong?” she questions next, him being vague on purpose not exactly soothing her concerns regarding this entirely too ominous trip.  

They’ve been strolling along some path he apparently has in his mind for quite some time now, at this point nearly reaching the very core of the vast forest that surrounds the entirety of the kingdom.  

“Everything’s fine,” his tone is gruff— a heavy palm on the small of her back nudging her forward when she momentarily halts her movements.   

“Do we have to go so far? M’getting cold,” she complains because even if the palace hasn’t felt like home ever since her dear father’s passing, she wants nothing more now than to return to the thermal fireplace and silky sheets in her bedchamber.

All of a sudden, the snapping of a branch somewhere close causes her to flinch. 

In tandem, they both turn towards the noise as it transforms into foreboding rustling of leaves and something akin to footfall against the muddy ground; forcing a shiver to crawl under her skin.   

She’s beginning to prepare herself to face some gruesome monster when out of the blue, the smallest white-tailed deer she’s ever laid her eyes upon, pokes its head from behind a tree trunk.   

She gasps in adoration; tiptoeing closer to the trembling animal before crouching down.   

“Hello there. Why are you here all by yourself?” she asks with a tender coo— mindfully reaching a hand out to pet its ruffled head.  

Seemingly liking her, it takes a careful step towards her in a moment of bravery; teddy bear eyes curious.   

“Well, aren’t you adorable? I wish I had something for you to eat but I don’t,” she croons out as it nestles its slobbery nose into the hollow of her hand, when all at once, its button eyes dilate and its fleecy ears lift up in alarm.  

“Wha—” she doesn’t have the time to finish her sentence before it’s hurriedly scrambling away from her and disappearing into the viridescent foliage in the blink of an eye.   

She looks over her shoulder to locate the source of such horror, coming face-to-face with a gleaming blade and Rafe’s threatening eyes fixed on her suddenly immobile form.   

“What are you—” her words wither away on her frightened tongue when he abruptly brings the hunting knife to her throat—terror wrapping around her like yarn, tautening around her organs and making her helpless heart thump against her ribcage in a state of hysteria. 

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, alright? I promise I’ll make it quick,” he sounds determined, her unnerved eyes rounding out. 

“Rafe, you don’t— you don’t have to do this,” she manages out before she feels the harsh edge cut into her delicate skin just the slightest bit— a droplet of crimson trickling down her neck and towards her heaving chest.  

His gaze tracks the rivulet as it dribbles down all the way into her cleavage; leaving a scarlet trail to stain her skin in its wake as her pounding head begins to spin. 

She sits there on the forest floor, unmoving and unable to properly suck in air through her lungs as trepidation slithers itself into the crevices of her bones; merging into her marrow and turning her limbs into icebound liquid. 

“You think I want to?” he mutters out through his teeth.   

“I— I don’t understand...why are you doing this?” she squeaks out when he squeezes the handle in his fist— seemingly torn between two alternatives yanking him into separate directions, their claws scraping at both of his arms.  

“Cause the queen wants your heart on a platter n’ I’m supposed to be doin’ what Her Majesty tells me to, yeah?” he spits out the title as if it’s rotten; as if it’s tasted acrid in his mouth for a long while now.   

“My heart? Why would she want my heart?” she asks with something akin to hurt in her voice; not realizing her stepmother’s hatred towards her branched as far as wanting her dead.   

“Cause she’s lost her fuckin’ mind,” he huffs out; still tightly gripping onto the weapon. “...but then you look at me with those fuckin’ eyes and how am I— how am I supposed to…kill that?” he rambles more to himself than her, making her brows knit together even further.  

“You don’t— you don’t have to, you can let me go and I’ll— I’ll hide in the forest,” she suggests, voice wavering.  

“And freeze to death?” he scoffs.  

“I thought you wanted me dead?” she sounds disconcerted.  

“I don’t want you dead!” his volume is as clamorous as thunder, frustrated.   

“But you’re holding a knife to my throat?” her voice trembles; the frigid steel still imprinting her skin.  

“Yeah, cause I’m supposed to fuckin’ kill you, alright?”  

“I…I don’t understand,” her tone is a muted whisper and at last, he loosens his hold on the knife— a faint thud echoing in the space between them as it hits the soil covered in moss. 

Then, he’s shaking his head, seemingly exasperated with the girl before him. “Talkin’ to fuckin’ deers n’ shit. I mean, who the hell does that?”   

“I…I do? They’re my friends, why wouldn’t I talk to them?” she bats her lashes at him, seemingly confused out her innocent little mind. 

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he lets out bitter scoff. “Now tell me, what am I supposed to do with you, hm?”   

“You’re not going to…” she swallows the rest of the words— too vile, brutal for her to say out loud.   

“Since you’re makin’ it so fuckin’ hard, no,” he lets out a displeased breath before presenting his palm for her to hold onto.  

“Get up,” he orders, nearly glaring at her.  

“Oh, um, thank you,” she blinks up at his frowning countenance, gingerly grasping onto his much bigger hand and letting him lift her up with ease.  

“Right, uh, why don’t we get you somewhere warm, yeah? You must be freezin’ only wearin’ that dress,” he clears his throat when he notices a tremor rattling through her in tandem with a frosty breeze sweeping past them.  

Taken aback by his sudden concern over her well-being, she merely stands there with a blank expression before he flits his eyes over to hers; seemingly expecting a response. 

“Oh, um...I think— I think I saw a cottage on our way here,” hesitation tinges her suggestion.  

“You did? Where?”  

“It was, um…” she pads along the faint traces of their original route she had sidetracked from in order to greet the baby deer— his heavy footsteps following close behind.   

“There,” she points her index finger towards a small hut partly hidden away behind old, lush trees. 

When they step onto the threshold, she softly knocks on the mahogany door decorated with intricate swirls and designs embedded into the wood.   

“Hello? Would it be possible if we could come in to warm up a little bit? It’s terribly cold out here,” she politely asks.   

However, they’re not granted any sort of a reply.   

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Rafe notes as he peers through the windows into the unlit interior, before trying his luck and pushing down the handle.  

To both of their surprise, the door is unlocked.   

“Rafe! We can’t just break into someone’s home,” she scolds him with wide eyes.   

“S’not breakin’ in if the door’s open,” he merely shrugs before cautiously stepping inside— having to duck his head since the roof is hanging far too low for his tall figure.   

He looks around the compact space, as if to make sure they truly are alone, before glancing over his shoulder at her still tentative form shivering in the doorway. “What are you waitin’ for? Come in. Unless you wanna get sick standin’ out there?”   

She feels guilt eat away at her soul when she gingerly steps inside the cozy cabin, feeling far too much like an intruder, even if Rafe doesn’t seem all that bothered by entering a complete stranger’s place of residence without permission.  

“Shit, why are these chairs so small?” he complains when the wooden stool creaks under his weigh; threatening to crack as he lights up some candles he found— the walls soon bathing under the burnt-orange flames.    

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she suggests meekly.   

“S’not like we have options to choose from,” he points out; stretching his big arms over his head in an attempt to get comfortable.  

“You’re right...I’m sure whoever lives here will understand we needed a place to stay, right?” she tries to convince herself in hopes of brushing her worries under the rug.  

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Let’s see if they have anything to eat around here,” he dismisses her as he stands tall on his feet once more, before he’s opening and closing the cabinets and cupboards in a search for food.  

“Why do they have so many fuckin’ apples in here?” he mindlessly questions when he sees a pile of the red fruit hiding behind one door.  

“Oh, I could make you an apple pie?” 

He turns to look at her beaming with that sudden grand idea of hers.  

“Uh, m’not sure if that’s…”  

“Do you not like them?” she sounds nearly concerned, as if not liking apple pies should be considered a crime in the fairytale world inside her skull.   

“Nah, I do, I just— shouldn’t we be comin’ up with some plan to keep you safe n’ shit? And not bakin’ pies. We don’t really have all the time in the world before the queen finds out you’re alive,” he mutters out. 

“Well, I don’t know about you but I can’t think with an empty stomach. And, um, it would also be a thank you for you sparing my life,” she timidly looks up at him. 

He clears his throat at that, seemingly surprised by her sentimentality; feeling unworthy of the gratitude she’s so willingly offering him. “Right, yeah, uh, alright. Well, you do that and I’ll go get us some firewood or somethin’, yeah?”  

“That sounds perfect,” she smiles.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -   

Later, when he returns to the cottage, the saccharine smell of oven-baked apples instantaneously whirls around him— holding him in a cinnamon-scented embrace and dragging a grumble from his stomach.   

“Oh, you’re back just in time!” she exclaims as she sets down two porcelain plates for them.  

“I might’ve went a little overboard with the cinnamon but I hope you don’t mind?” she asks while cutting through the steaming pie that’s making him practically drool.   

“Uh, nah, I…love cinnamon,” he murmurs, not sure why he just said that since he doesn’t particularly even like cinnamon. However, he’s certain that nothing that smells like that could possibly taste bad.  

“Really? Me too!”  

He thinks this is the first time he’s seen her eyes glitter in that way; as if he’s just single-handedly hung the moon or professed his undying love for her. It makes something unfamiliar poke at his insides— scratching at his organs and begging to be let out. However, he decides not to pay it any mind as he sits down on the kitchen chair that’s still entirely too tiny for him.   

“Do you like it?” she asks with her gaze glued to his expression when he takes his first bite. She hasn’t even touched her own slice; opting to stare at him instead and momentarily, he wonders why she’s so eager to please him.   

“This might just be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he can’t help but groan out loud in response to the luscious flavors practically melting on his tongue.  

She swallows at that, mind seemingly stuck somewhere else entirely before she softly clears her throat. “You, um, you think so?”   

“Uh huh,” he hums out with delight before shoving another forkful of softened apple pieces and golden-brown crust into his mouth— a smirk soon blossoming on his face when he catches on to the double entendre of his mindless compliment that apparently turned her all shy.     

“Someone’s got a dirty mind,” he chuckles, mocking her.   

“I…” she opens and then closes her mouth like a goldfish. “I do not—”   

“Alright, you caught me. Second best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he decides to toy with this sweet little princess some more, for some reason wants to see her all flustered; in some crooked way enjoys having an effect on her.   

“Um, right…yeah,” she stumbles over her words; eyes flickering towards her plate as she finally digs into her own portion.   

He’s all too preoccupied grinning at the way she’s avoiding his gaze when out of the blue, the sight of a bed peeking through the slightly ajar bedroom door catches his attention.  

And it’s not so much the piece of furniture that halts his chewing and makes a crease form between his brows, but more so the size of it. It forces his feet to move on their own accord to the room where he’s met with six more beds— just as minuscule as the first one.  

At that, he wonders if he really was so caught up with the princess that his brain couldn’t fit the very clear pieces together any earlier.   

“Oh shit, I think I know these guys n’ I don’t think they’ll be too happy to see me here when they get back,” he mutters while padding back towards the kitchen. 

“What do you mean?” concern paints over her features.   

“Nah, nothin’ just…uh, they don’t like me very much, so we gotta leave. I mean, they probably won’t mind you bein’ here all that much. They’re probably real friendly if you don’t piss them off like I have,” he scratches at the back of his head.      “What did you do?”  

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Uh, I have this cabin for when I’m hunting, but s’not very close. Think we should be safe there for tonight though. Unless you wanna stay here?”   

“No, I wanna go with you. I— I don’t want to stay here alone,” she’s quick to answer. 

“You sure?” he raises his brows.  

She nods.   

“Yeah? S’probably gonna be a few hours on foot. Think you can walk for that long in the woods, princess?” he asks next, his cadence turning into something playful.   

“Of course I can. I have two healthy legs,” she sounds almost offended. 

“I can see that,” an entertained smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And you’re not scared of the dark either?” he adds, almost as if testing her.  

“Of course not,” she lies through her teeth— eliciting a humored chuckle from him.  

“Mm. Could’ve sworn you were getting a little jumpy on our way here, but must’ve imagined it, right?” he drawls out, eyes narrowing in a challenge. 

“Yeah…” she doesn’t give in, a smile beginning to pull at her lips to match his own; neither of them seeming to mind when something feather-light takes the place of the once leaden ambience between them. 

Momentarily, she wonders why she’d never talked to this strangely captivating hunter before— his blue velvet eyes nearly entrancing, compelling her into an incantation she seems to unconsciously gravitate towards.   

However, the spell is soon broken when he takes a step closer to her, leaning over towards the table to blow off the flickering blaze of the candles— a dusky obscurity dancing around them once more.