#anyway and then.... yuri blossoms? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keydekyie · 6 months ago

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The Summer Road

❈ The Moth and the Bear III ❈

Prologue

7416 words, no content warnings

Lera groaned. She’d been the healer’s apprentice for a year now and expected to be woken before sunrise on occasion, but expectation didn’t make the experience any easier. The sky was still mostly black when her mother came into the bedroom and lit the lantern.

“Artem is here,” Lera’s mother whispered, gently brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “He says Emiliya needs you right away.”

Lera swatted at her mother’s hand. Why did she still insist on waking her up so sweetly, like she was a baby? She was turning fourteen soon. It was undignified. She rolled over and crammed her face into her pillow, but nevertheless grunted an acknowledgement.

As soon as her mother left the room, Lera dragged herself out of bed and got dressed. If the healer had sent a messenger to get her rather than coming herself, that meant she was busy with something important. Maybe an emergency? Lera’s stomach twisted in excitement and anxiety. She hoped it wasn’t anything too gruesome… but perhaps just a little bit gruesome?

Maybe someone had stepped in a snapjaw trap again? Or been attacked by direroden? Or what if they had some sort of horrible boil? Or a foot twisted the wrong way around?

Lera shook her head and tried to banish the guilty thoughts.

Her hair was already in two black braids from the night before, so she was able to dress herself quickly and get going. Imagination still running a bit wild, she bade a quick farewell to her mother and stumbled out onto the porch into the cool, crisp morning air. She was wide awake and all prepared to launch herself off the porch in the direction of the healer’s hut, but Artem was there to stop her short with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Whoa, hold it, Lera,” he grunted. The middle-aged messor was twitching in agitation, and his voice was strained. “I’ll explain on the way. There’s no need to be so hasty.”

Lera threw a glance over her shoulder to the doorway, where her mother and father were watching with attentive concern. Artem gave them a respectful wave before turning to lead Lera down the steps and onto the street.

The smell of spring blossoms and dew drifted up from the scattered village gardens as they made their way towards the healer’s hut on the edge of town. Artem didn’t speak to Lera again until they were out of her parents’ earshot, and even then, his voice was nothing but a low, troubled hiss. “Did you hear what happened to the ferry?”

Lera’s heart flipped again. “I heard the line broke as it was crossing, but… wasn’t that days ago? Did something else happen?” Another accident already? What has that damned unreliable ferry done this time? Capsized? Caught fire?

Artem shook his head. “What else did you hear?”

“Well, I… at the inn, they were saying when the line broke, they were rescued by a, uh…” Lera stumbled over her words. This was the part she’d dismissed as a tall tale when she heard it, some kind of prank the village jokester Yuri had convinced all his fellow ferry-goers to play on the rest of the village.

“Any excuse for a party,” Lera’s mother had sighed indulgently, rolling her eyes as Lera and her passed by the inn days ago. Inside, half the village had been celebrating the rescue of the ferry from certain doom.

Lera had laughed about it. It was so like Yuri to orchestrate an elaborate thing just to stir up revelry. As Lera was smiling to herself, she’d heard Yuri belt out joyfully: “Mead for the Medved’ Beis!”

So silly. Haha.

But Artem wasn’t laughing. The messor’s face was drawn taut, jaw clenched and eyes darting this way and that like a frightened cave rat. “Rescued by a what, Lera?”

Lera didn’t reply. She felt suddenly small and exposed walking down the road like this. She glanced around at the village, but nothing looked amiss. There were no toppled trees, no crushed houses. Not yet, anyway.

“I don’t know how much choice any of us have here,” Artem went on once it became clear Lera wasn’t going to answer, “but I’m sure Emiliya will understand if you’re too afraid-”

“I’m not afraid,” Lera blurted, like a liar.

Artem didn’t look convinced, but he kept moving.

They were nearing the healer’s hut, but Artem shifted into a wary hunch, quietly leading Lera on a roundabout path that took them behind a storehouse. Lera was surprised to find several other people hiding there, some of them huddled on the ground with huge eyes, and others peeking around the corner of the storehouse to watch the healer’s hut like eavesdroppers.

Artem put a finger to his lips as he joined those crouching down in the cover of the storehouse, then gestured for Lera to look.

Heart in her throat, Lera inched towards the corner of the storehouse, quietly stepped up behind a fisher’s son, and leaned out.

What she saw confused her, at first. From this distance and in the dim pre-dawn light, she couldn’t be certain what the shadows meant. There was the healer’s hut, which looked perfectly normal, and there was Emiliya the healer, standing on the porch in her nightgown, silver hair glowing in the lamplight thrown from the nearby window. She hadn’t dressed yet, having just been woken moments ago. Woken by what?

There was something wrong with the scene, something surreal about it, like a wavering image in a pool of water. A huge dark mass, the color and shape of inconsequence, lay there in the middle of the road. Lera didn’t remember there being a bush that big in front of the healer’s hut. The top of the thing was taller than the hut's thatched roof.

The mass shifted, and suddenly the illusion broke. It was no bush at all, but a creature, an enormous, furry creature the size and bulk of a house. It was laying down with its back to the storehouse and had its face hidden in the crook of its arm.

The healer was reaching for the creature as though to reassure it somehow, but had stopped herself. Concerned, but unsure.

Then the creature raised its huge head.

All anyone ever said to Lera about Medved’ Beis was that it was bad luck to mention them. No one had ever explained how big they were, or how their shoulders bore a hump like the top of a mountain. No one had ever mentioned the subtleness of their presence, the way the eye wanted to slide off of them as if they were nothing more than foliage.

And no one ever mentioned anything about them being able to speak.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” it asked the healer, in a voice like the creaking timbers of a riverboat in a storm. Everyone watching from behind the storehouse corner flinched at the sound.

“Um…” The healer looked amused, somehow. “If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

Lera was dizzy. This was so bizarre.

“Do you see it?” Artem whispered to her.

Lera almost laughed at him. Do I see it?! There was a gigantic monster laying in the road not forty feet away, and Artem was wondering if she’d seen it.

The creature’s big round ears twitched, and then it turned to look at them, and Lera had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming in surprise.

It was looking at them, with enormous human eyes on a human face.

She and the rest of the eavesdroppers all threw themselves back behind the meager shelter of the storehouse, as though the ramshackle building would do anything to stop that beast. Lera and the fisher’s son crouched down beside each other against the splintery boards of the storehouse walls, holding their breath.

Artem was glancing between Lera and the healer’s hut in alarm, but as the seconds passed, nothing happened. In fact, it was Emiliya’s voice Lera next heard.

“Well,” the healer chuckled, “perhaps you could help by moving a little? It seems my apprentice has arrived, and she’s a little skittish.”

The Medved’ Beis grumbled, “Right…” as though this were such a normal thing, such a reasonable thing to be asked. There were a series of low thumps that sounded more like trees being felled than footsteps, and then silence again.

Lera looked at Artem, who nodded to her, and she steeled herself to peek around the corner again.

The Medved’ Beis had moved around to the side of the healer’s hut and was sitting there on its haunches like a great hulking guard-rodi, staring with its flinty black eyes. Staring at Lera.

Lera’s knees were wobbling. Emiliya, who was waiting patiently for her on the stoop, waved encouragingly to Lera with one hand.

Between the corner of the storehouse and the hut’s stoop lay about forty feet of empty gravel road with absolutely nothing to sneak around or hide behind. Lera was going to have to either stride right out there in the open or not go at all. Not going at all definitely seemed like the more prudent option.

But there was Emiliya, the healer, Lera’s master, waving for her to come forward. So despite all orders from instinct and intelligence screaming for her to do otherwise, Lera took a deep breath and strode out.

As a child, Lera had once spent an afternoon watching a shiny green beetle crawl across her kitchen floor. The beetle was acutely aware of her and of its need to flee, but Lera entertained herself by cutting off its escape routes with her feet and hands. At the time, she’d laughed at the beetle’s impotent attempts at escape. She’d enjoyed the game at the beetle’s expense.

Luckily for Lera, the Medved’ Beis didn’t seem interested in tormenting her as she had the helpless beetle. It just sat and stared. Even so, the creature’s cold, suspicious glare was menacing enough. As she made for the hut’s stoop, doing her very best not to look up at the giant creature watching her approach, Lera suddenly felt for that beetle.

Without meaning to, Lera was running by the time she got to the stairs. She clambered up and past the healer into the hut with less grace than a newborn weglet.

“That’s my girl,” Emiliya murmured to her as she passed, patting her on the back with a wizened hand, and underneath all the astonishment and nerves, Lera did feel a flourish of satisfaction.

The healer closed the door behind her as Lera looked around the familiar hut. There were two other people present: the healer’s husband Serhiy, who was stoking the stove in the corner, and a stranger Lera didn’t recognize, a young woman who was sprawled on her side on the sickbed like a drunkard asleep in a gutter.

“Lera, get her a blanket, just a light one,” the healer ordered, gesturing to the young woman’s unconscious form. “We need to bring down her fever and get the air in here medicated as quickly as possible.”

Accustomed to being put to work as soon as she stepped into the hut, Lera had no trouble springing into action. She took a quilt out of the bedding cabinet and draped it over the girl, then went to help Serhiy prepare the stove to boil water. Meanwhile, the healer was gathering the ingredients for a fever tincture from the shelves on the north wall.

It all felt quite natural. There was a sick patient, and they were going to help her. Lera almost forgot that there was anything amiss. She tried to pretend there wasn’t.

Once the fire in the stove was roaring happily, Lera helped Serhiy lift the big cauldron of water on top. The healer was finishing up the tincture and waddled over to the sickbed, swirling the cup with one hand. Her hair ran in a silver river down her crooked back, an odd sight. Usually the healer was much more put-together and had her hair up in a bun by the time Lera got to the hut.

“Put a handful of chamiweed in the water, Lera,” said the healer. “There’ll be more we need to add, but that will be a good start.”

Lera opened a nearby cabinet and found the big brown pot of dried chamiweed. She took a generous fistful and sprinkled it into the cauldron. The cold, spicy scent clung to her hand.

“Serhiy, please go outside and collect some fresh huilgrass. Lera, I need you to help her sit up.” The healer’s voice was calm and even as she gave orders. Perhaps that was why Serhiy didn’t hesitate as he nodded and went out the front door.

Lera came around to the head of the bed and prepared to haul the young woman into a sitting position. Her hands shook as she rolled the woman onto her back. She’d had to do this many times before (Emiliya insisted you should never, ever give a sick person something to drink while they were laying down) so it wasn’t the action itself that made her so nervous, it was keeping herself from looking out the window above the bed.

Lera positioned her arms under the woman’s shoulders and heaved her up into a sitting position. She was much heavier than she looked, with hard, well-muscled arms and shoulders, and her skin was piping hot to the touch. Her breath came shallow and rapid, and she shifted slightly in Lera’s arms, too weak to hold herself up. She felt strange, inhuman, but Lera told herself it was just because of the context.

Context being: There was a gigantic monster thing right outside.

The healer carefully poured the tincture into the girl’s mouth, and when it was done, she nodded to Lera and stepped back. Lera let the girl back down onto the bed, perhaps a little roughly. She was just so heavy. Lean and muscular and tough.

“What’s wrong with her?” Lera asked.

The healer put the cup down in the dish basin. “Let’s see if we can’t find that out, shall we?”

With Serhiy still excused, Lera helped the healer undress the woman to give her a proper examination. With the quick, desperate way the woman was breathing, Lera expected to find some sort of horrible sucking wound to her ribs or chest, but there was nothing wrong with her anywhere, save a few odd scars and some missing toes. The most notable thing was a scar on her upper calf, a gash several inches long and likely a ghastly thing when it was fresh, but even that looked like it was more than a year old and well healed.

“She’s a smith, I’ll bet,” Emiliya said. “They always end up with a thousand little scars. It’s a wonder they don’t all die of lockjaw.”

“Is that what’s wrong with her? Lockjaw?”

Emiliya gave Lera a wry look. “You tell me.”

Oh great, Lera thought. She’d walked right into that one. With a nervous sigh, she looked down at the girl again. “She has a fever.”

“Well I told you that,” the healer snorted. “Look carefully. Ask more questions. I’m sure you’re full of them.” The healer’s voice turned down a touch, growing more solemn than Lera was used to, as she murmured, “I certainly hope you are. I know I am.”

While Lera considered this, they dressed the sick woman in a soft nightgown and set her clothes aside. The healer took a rag from a drawer and dipped it in the nearby washbasin, wrung it out firmly, then handed the rag to Lera, who draped it over the sick woman’s forehead.

“Any thoughts?” urged the healer.

Lera watched a bead of sweat drip down the woman’s face, then looked up. “She helped rescue the ferry?”

The healer nodded.

“Yuri said she fell in the river,” Lera continued. “But that was days ago. Didn’t she come to the party at the inn?”

“Indeed. I met her there, and she seemed healthy at the time, but these things sometimes take days to develop.”

“Could she… have caught something? From the river?”

“In a way. Do you remember what karaerien means?”

“Vengeful water.” Lera stiffened, heart dropping. “It’s lung-fever, from inhaling water.”

“That’s right. Tell me what you know about lung-fever.”

“I know it isn’t good. Many die from it.”

“Who dies from it?”

“Um… mostly elders and children and babies, but-”

“How old do you think this woman is?”

Lera looked at the woman’s face. She was twitching in her sleep, turning weakly this way and that. She had a long face, the sort of face that makes a person look rather solemn and older than their years, but she didn’t look old. “I’d say… twenty?”

“Young, then.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’ll live?”

Being asked so bluntly made Lera squirm, but that was just how things were with Emiliya. “Yes, she seems strong. I think she’ll live, if we treat the lung-fever.”

The healer nodded slowly. “What’s the treatment for lung-fever?”

“Bedrest and humid air. Plenty to drink. Um… keeping the fever down.”

“Yes, good.” The healer smiled. “The fever should go down in the next day or so now that we’re treating it, and when it does, she will wake up and start coughing enough to bring the roof down. What then?”

“Same as before, really. Warm drinks will help, but the coughing will clear the infection out. We shouldn’t try to stop it.”

“Perfect,” said the healer, “but now comes the tricky part, my dear. There’s no guarantee she will live. She may be young and strong, but the fever is very bad and coughing has sapped all her strength. If she dies, what should we do?”

Lera opened her mouth to give an automatic answer, then snapped it shut again. Usually when someone died in the healer’s care, the family would be told first and invited in to say their goodbyes. It was always such a slow, upsetting process, but it was something Lera was familiar with, at least.

But where was this woman’s family? Her friends? She was a traveler. As far as they knew, she had no one.

No one but the Medved’ Beis.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Lera said.

The healer fixed her with a keen stare, and her yellow-green eyes flashed as she asked, “What do you think that creature outside will do if his friend dies in our care, Lera?”

Lera whispered, “I don’t know.”

The woman on the sickbed murmured wordlessly, her voice small and wavering. Lera turned the wet rag on her forehead over.

“Neither do I,” said the healer. “Hopefully we won’t find out.”

Boots tromped up the steps outside, and the healer called out, “Come in!”

Serhiy had returned with an armful of silvery huilgrass. He set the bundle down on the worktable and turned to them with a hearty sigh.

“Well,” he chuckled, “it’s been quite a morning.”

✧

The sun had risen, the air was thick with medicated steam, and everything was quiet. Lera was busy grinding up huilgrass into a mash at the worktable across from Serhiy.

The healer was sat in a chair beside the sickbed, stripping the leaves from a sprig of tansy. Just when Lera was starting to relax and let her mind wander, the healer turned to her apprentice with a knowing smirk and said, “Someone needs to fetch more water.”

Someone. Lera glanced hopefully over at Serhiy working across from her, but he just pursed his lips and kept his eyes on the knife he was chopping huilgrass with.

Lera was always the one to fetch water. It wasn’t proper for the elderly healer or her husband to have to carry the heavy buckets. Besides, it wasn’t far. It wouldn’t be hard.

The stone pestle Lera had been using clattered to the tabletop, and Lera jumped at the sound. She’d dropped it. Her hands were shaking.

“Well?” Serhiy grunted, not looking up.

“I-I’ll go,” Lera said. She got to her feet and ambled to the door. It had been a few hours, after all. Maybe the creature outside had gone away?

Lera crept out the door as quietly as possible, trying not to let it or the floor of the porch creak. Tentative as a field mouse, she peeked around the corner of the hut.

She was met with two giant black eyes watching her from yards away. Lera yelped and scrambled back inside.

Serhiy and Emiliya were staring at her with sardonic expressions.

“It’s still out there,” Lera explained, heart pounding as she leaned her back on the door.

Serhiy laughed. “Oh, you don’t say?”

Lera went beet red, gaping at him. Had the old man forgotten what a Medved’ Beis was?

The healer said, “We need more water, Lera.”

“Wh-what should I do?”

“Try to pretend he isn’t there,” Serhiy replied, as nonchalant as if they were discussing one of the steward’s nosy cronies.

“But, what if…“ What if it grabs me, or stomps on me? What if it chases me? What if it’s hungry? Lera fidgeted as her imagination went a bit out of control.

The healer’s face changed, a little concerned, as though she could see the things in Lera’s head. “Perhaps you should go with her, Serhiy.”

“Or perhaps you two should go out there and talk to him yourselves, eh?” Serhiy grumbled, and at that moment, Lera remembered something:

Serhiy had been on the ferry when it was rescued.

That creature outside had rescued him, rescued the charming Yuri, Jessa the messor’s wife and their five year old daughter Chaya, Lera’s aunt and uncle and their daughter Roza, and half a dozen others. Roza was a year younger than Lera and her best friend. Lera hadn’t even asked her about the incident yet, so sure was she that it was merely one of Yuri’s wild tales. Guilt and confusion twisted up in Lera’s throat.

With her hand on the door handle, Lera swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She was going to get that damned water. The door creaked when she threw it open this time.

Lera kept her eyes down as she marched back out onto the porch and around the other side of the hut where the buckets and carrying pole were kept. She lifted the pole to her shoulders and was all prepared to stride right down the road past the Medved’ Beis and not even look at him, as Serhiy had suggested, but she stumbled to a stop in the shadow of the stoop.

Tension gathered in Lera’s chest and started to escape as an involuntary whine, like the squealing lid on a pot of boiling water. She rallied herself, then stepped out.

Lera meant to walk calmly with her head held high, but as before, she found herself running, squealing all the way. She did her best not to look at the creature that was most definitely watching her as she scurried past.

Finally, she made it to the turn in the road where a big hedge of marshlion blocked line of sight again. She stopped to catch her breath, readjusting the carrying pole, then peeked out from behind the bush.

The Medved’ Beis looked… rather a lot like Emiliya and Serhiy had just looked when she’d run back into the hut. He was staring at her with one round eyebrow raised and a mocking smirk on his lips.

Oh great. Lera blushed again and hid behind the marshlion bush. She was making such a fool of herself today. Well, this fool has a job to do.

Lera made the rest of the short trek to the well and filled the buckets. By the time she finished and made her way back to the marshlion bush to peek out from behind its hairy green leaves, the Medved’ Beis had laid down and wasn’t watching for her anymore. He was curled around the rear corner of the healer’s hut and was resting his chin on one arm, staring into the middle distance. His bulk made the hut look miniature.

With full buckets, Lera knew she wouldn’t be able to run this time. It took her a moment to gather her nerve, but when she got going again, the Medved’ Beis didn’t look at her. As she walked past him, he kept his gaze fixed on some meaningless spot on the ground, pretending to ignore her.

Despite herself, Lera slowed to a stop in front of him, looking him over. His eyes flicked to hers.

It was quite a lot of creature to be scrutinized by, but there was something about his face that captured Lera’s attention. Perhaps it was just because every minute movement was magnified by his size, but his face seemed so open and unguarded; hopeful, somehow, despite a somber cast that was scrunching up his eyes. He seemed young, likely the same age as the woman in the sickbed. Even though Lera’s knees felt weak, she couldn’t help but be captivated.

“Has she woken up yet?” the Beis asked, voice low and rumbling and quiet like distant thunder.

Lera shook her head, and then she saw something very interesting.

Many times since beginning her apprenticeship, Lera had witnessed the healer give people bad news. Lera always watched their faces carefully, and every time she saw something a little different, and a little the same: grief, anger, frustration, hopelessness, despair, and every combination thereof.

And on the Medved’ Beis’ huge face, Lera saw the same.

He blinked and looked at the ground, and his whole countenance dimmed, like a flame turned down in a lantern. He looked… sad. So indescribably sad. So sad that for a moment Lera felt almost like she was tipping forward and being sucked down into the gloom with him.

She leaned over to set the waterbuckets down, and suddenly the Beis’ bear-like ears flipped back. He shook his head as though to clear the expression off of his face, and just like that, all the sadness Lera had just seen was replaced with a cobbled-together mask of vague annoyance.

And Lera had seen that before as well. She smiled sympathetically at him.

“Try not to worry,” Lera said. “She’s young and strong.”

“That’s what the healer said, but death doesn’t care if you’re young and strong,” the Beis grumbled, looking down at his claws. “It takes what it wants, with whatever tools it has.”

“Death can’t want anything, it’s not a person, it’s just the absence of life.” It was something Lera had heard her mother say, but she flinched internally as she quoted it. Her master held a very different opinion.

The Beis smirked at her darkly. “You think that makes it any better?”

“I uh…” Lera stammered, terrified she’d said something to offend him. “I don’t- I mean, I guess not.”

The Beis stared at her for a second, a touch of disdain in the turn of his mouth, then he looked down again and dug at the grass with one shovel-sized claw. “Maybe giving desire to death makes losing to it sting a little less.”

Lera let out the breath she was holding, happy she hadn’t irritated him too much. She almost leaned down to pick the water buckets back up, but hesitated when she glanced up at the Medved’ Beis again. He was still digging idly at the grass, but the mask was slipping and the look of despair was peeking through. Lera couldn’t help herself.

“What will you do?” she asked quietly, “if she dies?”

“Go home, I guess…” he sighed.

Lera knew she ought to be thankful he hadn’t said, “I’ll destroy this tiny village and everyone in it.” Going home didn’t sound like all that bad a thing to Lera. The words were benign, but the way the Beis said them made it seem like the very last thing he wanted to do. Alongside the resignation on his face, there was something more urgent, more weighty. Fear? What did he have waiting at home for him that was so terrible?

Just then, the sound of approaching feet down the gravel path caught their attention. Lera turned to see a group of people making their way down the road, shoulders squared and footsteps heavy with conviction. They were coming down from the opposite side of the hut from the Beis, so they couldn’t have seen him laying there.

“Oh, bother…” Lera grumbled.

“What? Who is it?” asked the Beis.

“It’s the steward. Just a moment, I’ll take care of it.” Lera left the buckets where she’d put them and went to meet the group.

“‘Scuse me,” Lera said loudly.

The steward and his three assistants tried to ignore Lera and made to go straight into the hut, but Lera quickly shuffled over to stand at the base of the stairs, blocking their path with her arms out.

The steward rocked back in surprise, gaping down at Lera as if she’d just materialized out of thin air.

“Did you need to see the healer?” Lera asked.

The steward wrinkled his nose at her, indignation taking the place of surprise. “Yes, I must see her right away.”

“Is someone sick?”

“No.” The steward started to step around Lera, but Lera grabbed the stair banister to block him.

“You can’t go in. If you need to speak to the healer, I’ll get her.”

“And who are you to stop me?”

“I’m her apprentice.”

The steward’s face twitched with annoyance, but he stepped back. “Fine. Fetch her, quickly.”

“What shall I tell her is the reason?”

“Just get her already, child!”

Lera bit her lip, trying to maintain her grip on her manners. “If I can’t give her the reason for your visit, she’s just going to send me back out here to get one.”

The steward scoffed and looked to one of his helpers, a brick wall of a man who blinked dully back at him like a frog. The steward stared at him a moment, as one would stare out a window to gather one’s thoughts, then turned back to Lera with a pout under his trimmed beard.

“We’re going to move the stranger from the healer’s sickbed to the inn,” the steward explained.

Lera frowned. “Why?”

“We cannot have the sickbed taken up by a… by a…” The steward waved his hand around contemptuously in the air. “What if someone else needs it? One of our own?”

“Does someone else need it?”

“Not yet, but-”

“Then that sounds like a stupid idea,” Lera huffed, then started, surprised at herself. She resisted the urge to clap a hand over her mouth and hurriedly said, “But I’ll tell the healer what you want. Give me just a moment, please.”

The steward straightened his long robes with a scornful flourish. “Very well.”

Lera first went to fetch the water buckets. The Beis was watching her with a worried frown, so Lera put a covert finger to her lips as she took the buckets off the carrying pole. The steward hadn’t noticed him yet, but it would certainly be hard to miss the Beis’s rumbling voice.

“I’ll be right back, sir. Thank you for your patience,” Lera mumbled to the steward as she passed him again to carry the buckets inside.

Healer Emilyia was still sitting beside the sickbed with the tansy in her hands. She didn’t look up from her work as Lera hauled the buckets over to the stove.

“Was that Maxim outside?” Emiliya asked.

“Yes,” Lera grunted as Serhiy helped her lift one bucket up to pour carefully into the pot. “He wants us to move her to the inn.”

“We aren’t moving her,” Emiliya said firmly.

“Right…” The first bucket was enough to fill the pot, so Lera left the second in the corner for later and prepared to take the empty one back outside. “Why would he want to move her, anyway? We have spare cots if someone else comes ill.”

“I doubt Maxim’s concerned with that,” said Emiliya. “He’s just throwing his weight around again.”

“He may be attempting to head off rumors,” Serhiy suggested. “You know how Lord Arseni is about Medved’ Beis tales, and this has become rather more material than most tales he ventures to quash.”

Lera sighed, “So, what should I tell him?”

Emiliya growled, “Tell him to go suck up a lungful of river water.”

Lera went back outside with the empty bucket, to find the steward and his gang waiting where she’d left them in various poses of impatience.

“She said we can’t move her. She’s too sick.” Lera set the bucket down beside the door and came to stand at the top of the steps.

“Wegshit,” the steward grumbled, and started to come up the stairs. “Let me speak to her.”

“No!” Lera barred the way. Standing on the topmost step put her eye-to-eye with the steward, which contributed to her boldness. “You aren’t in need of healing. There’s no reason for you to be here. Good day.”

The steward drew himself up, practically vibrating with frustration. “Why you insubordinate-”

“Good day!” Lera said again, louder. Her legs felt wobbly, but she held steady.

The steward opened his mouth to say something else, then seemed to reconsider. He glanced down the road, where several neighbors were now watching the conversation with barely respectful interest.

The steward twitched, then without another word, turned and marched back down the steps and up the street the way he’d come. His helpers scrambled after him.

Lera let out a tense breath through her nose, watching the steward vanish around a corner, then ran down the steps to fetch the carrying pole she’d left in the grass.

The Beis’s eyes were wide as he watched her.

“It’s alright,” Lera assured him. “I got him to leave, for now.”

“You sounded like you knew what you were doing. I worry he won’t give up easily, though.”

Lera planted the carrying pole on the ground like a walking stick, satisfaction warming her chest at the compliment. “He’s always meddling with the healer’s business, we’re quite used to it. He wants to be the boss of everyone.”

“Yeah…” the Beis grumbled. “I figured that.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t let him bother her.”

The Beis nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely assured.

Lera found herself staring at his face again. It was surprising how absorbing his expressions were, how human. “You don’t seem… you’re not what I expected a Medved’ Beis to be like.”

The Beis exhaled heavily and rolled his eyes. “And you mean that as a compliment?”

“O-oh, I just meant you’re, uh…” Lera gripped the carrying pole in front of her chest. “You’re… more nice than I expected you’d be?”

“‘Nice…’” Shaking his head, the Beis scoffed and kept his eyes on the sky.

“Well fine. I’ll take it back,” Lera snickered. “You’re a grouch.”

Pursing his lips, the Beis glanced at her again, but he looked amused. “Don’t you have work you’re supposed to be doing? Or something?”

Lera started. The healer was probably wondering what was going on. She fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, wondering what the conventions for leaving a Medved’ Beis’s presence were. Should she bow? Salute? Wave?

“Right. Uh, bye then,” she said quickly, and hurried on her way.

✧

Lera had only returned to her work grinding herbs for a few short moments before voices outside the hut brought her back out. The steward and his men had returned, dragging with them a young man who seemed quite reluctant to be there.

“Sirs, really, I’m fine! The healer said I should just stay off it!” the young man pleaded, trying in vain to wriggle out of the grips of the men who were hauling him. He was holding one foot up, and his lack of balance made it impossible to get enough traction to stop himself.

“No, you’re very ill,” the steward said dramatically. “Does he not look ill, friends?”

“Pallid as a corpse, he looks,” grumbled one of the helpers.

“Deathly ill,” said another.

The young man whimpered, eyes bulging as they dragged him. Evidently he knew better what was lurking around the healer’s hut than the steward did, or perhaps simply believed what he’d heard.

Lera sighed. She knew this young man, a worker who often took odd jobs around the village. Several days before, he’d tripped on an old plow left in the grass, and his toe had swollen up like a ripe plum. The healer had said it was merely bruised, but that it was healing fine and needed not to be aggravated; for example, by the steward’s cronies forcing him to walk around pointlessly on it.

The group had arrived before the hut, and Lera crossed her arms as she took her place at the top of the steps.

“Can I help you, misters?” she said.

“This man needs to be seen by the healer right away!” said the steward, head held high.

“Does he, though?” Lera grumbled.

“He does!”

“I don’t think he does…”

The steward gasped, “You would turn away a sick man? You would leave him to die?”

“He’s not going to die. He has a stubbed toe.”

“Look at him! He can hardly stand!”

The worker stammered, “I can stand-”

“No you can’t, you need help,” the steward snapped, then turned back to Lera. “Can’t you see he needs help?”

Lera sighed, shuffling her feet. The steward was right; she couldn’t turn the worker away, but neither could she let the steward in. She turned for the door. “Let me ask-”

“He needs to see the healer right away!” the steward said, and then waved for his helpers. “Help him inside, men.”

“Wait, hold on-”

The steward’s men lifted the worker by his armpits and made for the stairs, holding him up like a battering ram.

Something moved in Lera’s peripheral vision. In the excitement she’d almost forgotten about the creature hanging around the side of the hut. By the steward and his group’s sudden stillness and wide eyes, they hadn’t expected it at all.

The Beis had gotten to his feet and was hunched beside the porch, glaring stiffly down at the steward with a look of pure loathing.

The air crackled with tension, but no one moved. The steward’s assistants were slowly letting the young worker’s arms slip through their grips until he hung awkwardly by his elbows, though he made no attempt to escape.

“You’re not going in there,” the Beis finally rumbled.

The steward twitched, then shook himself off and straightened up, chin in the air.

“You’ve no authority over me,” he said, voice hitching as he tried to maintain his poise. “His High Excellency Lord Marko Arseni himself has granted me stewardship of Nadporatzhe and its commonality, and the power to order it as I see fit. Your kind has no jurisdiction here.”

The Beis blinked and wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What does… what?”

“This is none of your business!” the steward squawked, puffing out his chest.

The Beis just stared at the steward in stunned bewilderment, huge fluffy ears going eschew. The steward nodded sharply, taking the Beis’s silence to mean he’d won, and started to move towards the stairs again.

The Beis shook off his confusion, pinned his ears, and snarled.

It was a thick, raw sound, heavy with a genuine threat of violence. Bared fangs held the same implication as bared knives: that they were ready and able to bury themselves somewhere painful and inconvenient if something about the current situation didn’t change immediately.

The steward went stiff and ashen. His helpers stumbled backwards, dropping the young worker onto his backside in the dirt.

Lera realized she was now watching the confrontation from between the slats of the porch banister. Somehow, she’d crouched down without noticing.

The steward attempted to gather his nerve again, stammering out barely understandable contentions as he took unconscious steps backwards. “To be… of all the schemes and… and stunts,” he blurted, puffing himself up like an affronted magpie.

His helpers’ eyes darted between him and the creature staring them all down. This was definitely more than they’d signed up for.

The steward babbled on, “To have a haksa in our healer’s care, it’s unconscionable. It’s preposterous. And to then have her pet demon bar the way-”

The Beis jerked forward with another snarl. The porch railings Lera was gripping vibrated with the sound.

Apparently, that was enough for the steward. With an undignified yelp he turned on his heel and trotted away with his robes held up. His helpers scrambled after him, leaving the stricken worker sitting forgotten in the road.

The Beis shook out his mane with a disgruntled snort and sat back, watching the steward’s retreat.

“He’d better not be back,” the Beis grumbled, “unless he fancies getting flattened.”

Lera straightened up from behind the banister and made her way down to the worker, who was cautiously trying to get to his feet without taking his eyes off the irritated creature sitting just a few steps away.

“Come on, now,” Lera grunted, hauling the worker up by one elbow. “Did you want to see the healer? Or shall I help you back to your house?”

“Uh… ”

The Beis looked at him, black eyes narrowing.

“Home. Home please,” the worker whimpered, trying to hobble away without Lera’s help.

“Ah, alright alright. Hold on.”

Lera helped the worker back along the road, but it wasn’t long before several others came out from behind cover to take over. The young man thanked her quietly as Artem the messor came over to take Lera’s place.

“Good job, Lera,” Artem whispered, patting her shoulder.

Lera stopped and stood in the middle of the road with her hands on her hips, watching the group help the worker limp slowly home, and all at once, she felt much older than she had when she woke up that morning.

When she turned back to the healer’s cottage, the Beis had retreated back out of sight on the other side of the hut. Lera hurried over, coming to find him laying with his shoulder pressed to the cottage wall. His eyes were downcast and round ears tucked back. He looked worried again, but this time seemed almost ashamed, as though expecting reproach for his behavior.

“What’s wrong, now?” Lera sighed. Moody thing.

“Nothing, I just…” he mumbled, wincing, “I probably should have let you handle that.”

“No!” Lera barked. “Oh, no no. What you did was great! Gods of the pines, I just wish my master had seen it.” Lera put a hand to her forehead and laughed. “Oh, the look on his face. I hope I remember that always.”

“I just hope I’m not stirring up too much trouble.”

“Oh please, stir up all the trouble you want. Storm blows rain through the door and troubles out the window, that’s what my mother always says.”

The Beis chuckled under his breath, then his eyes unfocused and he leaned his head wistfully against the hut wall.

“My name’s Lera, by the way. I should have introduced myself earlier. What is your name?”

The Beis replied without looking at her, “I’m Ruyak.”

“What’s it mean?”

This question surprised him. Ruyak blinked and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve never heard such a name before, and it reminds me of the language my master sometimes uses. She’s taught me many words, but that one I don’t remember.”

Ruyak considered that for a moment, eyes cautious, and Lera opted to change the subject. “Is there anything you need?”

“No. But… when Kaelin wakes up, will you tell me?”

“Of course.”

Ruyak closed his eyes. “Thank you, Lera.”

Lera nodded, then turned and made her way back up to the porch. She ran her hand along the dry, splintery banister, momentarily swept up in a vision of the future, of a time decades from that moment.

Lera would tell this story to her children. She would call them over and gather them ‘round, smiling in the playful way her mother did when telling stories. She would kneel down and look into their eyes importantly.I met a Medved’ Beis once, Lera would say to them. He was nice.

The Summer Road ebook preorders are available now!

kindle and everywhere else

Paperbacks are coming soon!

#aaah it's happening!!!!#book III is available for preorders!#tmatb #tmatb iii #indie author #authors on tumblr #g/t writing #sfw g/t #monster writing #the moth and the bear #grace o'hare

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deityoftherain · 5 months ago

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moth to a flame - Gempearl SL Fanfic

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: F/F

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 2,124

Summary: Pearl is a bit of a night owl, or, night moth, considering her hybridity. While the rest of the server sleeps, Pearl likes to wander and, tonight, she wandered up the cherry wood stairs to Gem and the Scotts' base. She was intrigued by the blossoms' nectar and the torches spammed around when she comes across a singular lantern outside of her girlfriend's door...

I created this surprise treat for @holymolyguacomole through the @mcyt-summer-of-yuri exchange!!

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Light…

Oh, the light was so beautiful, so enchanting…

Pearl could stare at the mighty display of energy all night if she lost her self control, completely hypnotized by its flickering spirit.

Most moths were nocturnal and drawn in with light. Being a moth hybrid, Pearl tended to have more control than her less-intelligent kin. She was able to resist the light with more ease and be up during the day while her friends were.

Well, part of the day, anyway. Pearl was certainly considered a “night owl” and the opposite of a morning person. In fact, she slept most of the daylight morning away, but she tended to stay up late into the evening, or well into the next day. She was usually asleep or in bed by the time the sun started to color the sky.

Pearl couldn’t complain, though. She loved the night air! It was peaceful with fireflies buzzing about and stars sparkling in the sky. She was free to run around the server and simply explore while everyone was asleep!

Even now, in a death game like Secret Life, she would explore. They were there for more or less two months so what else was she to do? Fight for her life, joke around, and then just pass out? No way! Besides, today was Friday. They had finished that week’s “session” and would continue on Monday, giving them two whole days plus some change to recover and take care of mundane tasks.

Pearl had made sure all her sweet Mounders were sleeping safe and soundly before she departed. She re-tucked Bdubs’ blanket around him– he had somehow kicked it off already despite only sleeping for an hour at that point– and she made sure Mumbo was still breathing. Mumbo’s sleeping form was a stark contrast from Bdubs as he laid perfectly still in his bed like it was a coffin. Pearl would have checked on Joel on his Fair Ground Mound as well, but he had told them he was going to spend the off-session with his wife, Lizzie, over at her base and that he would see them around.

With all her ducks in a row, she had intended to explore the changes that happened this week, only to get drawn towards the cherry blossom wood stairs and birch plank platforms that edged the mountain by the smell of the flowers’ sweet nectar. The moth inside her went absolutely bonkers for nectar, so much so that it was a problem, making her do foolish things.

Foolish things like entering Gem and the Scotts’ base without permission.

Foolish things like letting her freaky long tongue– scientifically called a proboscis, according to Doc… she hoped she was remembering that right– go to town on the abundant cherry blossoms within the biome.

Foolish things like staring at the singular lantern that they seemed to have.

That part was strange, if she stopped long enough to think about it. Why would they waste a resource like iron to make a lantern within one of these games? Especially when the entire biome was otherwise lit up with spammed torches.

Pearl hadn’t realized she was babbling nonsense out loud until one of the cottages’ inner lights flicked on. She straightened up her body, moth wings fanning out and featherly antennas twitching as she froze like a deer in headlights.

The cherry wood door creaked open, revealing her elven girlfriend with ginger hair and heterochromatic eyes. Pearl thought it was rather fascinating how only one of her eyes (her right iris) changed color to display what life she was on, leaving her left eye its typical hue of green.

Secret Life was Gem’s first game so she was experiencing everything for the first time. Pearl had been participating since Last Life, when she actually paired with Scott, who was one of Gem’s teammates now. She took comfort knowing that Scott– and Impulse, too– was watching after Gem, not that she needed it. If the last few weeks proved anything, it was that Gem thrived in this sort of competition.

It was truly a wonder why Gem had never joined in playing before. Pearl guessed that she had just been too focused on other things. Besides, she had been balancing life on two different home servers (Hermitcraft and Empires) at the same time as when the other games were going on. It only made sense.

“Pearl?” Gem murmured, squinted her eyes at her before attempting to rub the sleep out of them.

“Hi, Gem-Gem,” Pearl grinned sheepishly. Her attention had been properly pulled from the light, which was rather difficult for most people to do. Luckily though, Gem wasn’t most people. All Gem had to do was exist and she would grab Pearl’s attention. It was only natural, considering that Gem was the true light of Pearl’s life. “Sorry, love, did I wake ya?” “Only a little bit.” Gem smiled back sleepily, leaning one shoulder against the door. “I see you found the light I set out for you.” “Oh! Oh, ho, ho, ho!” Pearl gasped brightly, bouncing on her heels and waving her pointed finger back and forth. “It was you! I knew it! I was wondering, I- I thought it was strange this was the only lantern! It’s very lovely, and it was all for me? Aw, you shouldn’t have!”

“Can’t blame a girl for wanting her girlfriend to come visit.” Gem tilted her head to rest against the door frame, still low on energy. “You’ve been so busy with your Mounders that I haven’t seen you much.” “Like you haven’t been busy with your Scotts!” Pearl returned the lighthearted accusation.

“That’s true,” Gem conceded, sparing a glance toward Scott and Impulse’s cottages with a fond look on her face. “They are quite a handful. I imagine Bdubs and Mumbo are the same? Oh, and Joel, yeah?” “You can say that again,” Pearl replied, though she was getting distracted again. What? She couldn’t help it! The light was just so beautiful, and she could still taste the flower nectar dancing on her taste buds, and-

“Pearrrllll,” Gem whined softly, taking a hold of Pearl’s hand. She wasn’t sure when she had removed herself from the door frame, but she didn’t dare ask. Especially not when Gem was giving her such an adorable little pout that made Pearl willing to fight ten wardens for her.

“Yes?” Pearl fluttered her eyelashes, words soaked in false sweetness. It was a bit of a tease, but Gem knew her well enough to know it was out of love.

“Stay with me?” Gem buried her face against Pearl’s chest, ignoring the way their long hair mixed with each other. Her arms curled around Pearl’s torso, linking her long, nimble fingers together when they met at the base of Pearl’s moth wings.

Gem, without a doubt, had elven heritage, if her pointed ears and graceful yet slender frame were to say anything about it. Despite the clear elven features, Pearl had about a head or so on her in terms of height. She occasionally wondered the cause of it, but she hadn’t dared to ask yet, just in case it was a sensitive subject such as a genetic mutation. That didn’t stop the others from making short jokes, but they did the same to people like Grian, Bdubs, and Tango, and Gem didn’t seem to mind that much.

Pearl pressed a kiss against the top of Gem’s head, resting one hand between her shoulder blades while the other tangled itself in her hair. They stayed like that, simply taking each other in, but Pearl did make sure to breathe out, “Of course I’ll stay.” Gem hummed contently, leaning her body weight into Pearl. Pearl was alright with it, keeping stable despite the extra pressure trying to push her backwards. She didn’t brag about it very often– except for when it was funny to show up the others– but she was fairly strong, especially for a moth hybrid, which are known to be sort of fragile. Pearl hated that stereotype, personally, but she couldn’t deny there being some truth to it. Her wings certainly weren’t as resistant to damage as she would like, but a healing potion fixed them right up, so no harm, no foul.

“You’re practically falling asleep standing up,” Pearl commented with an airy chuckle.

“No, I’m not,” Gem protested in a sleepy slur, weakly tugging herself closer against Pearl’s body. “I just… don’ wanna move. Stay cuddlin’ longer.”

“It’ll be warmer inside though,” Pearl offered, already letting her hands wander down Gem’s body to her hips. “We could cuddle under the blankets. I already told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Gem just let an elongated whine rumble in her throat, clearly half asleep. She had put a hundred and ten percent of her energy into this week’s session, and it was clearly catching up to her. Pearl didn’t say anything else as she got a good handle on Gem. Without asking for permission, knowing Gem enough to know she would be fine with it if she asked, she hoisted Gem up so she was properly carrying her. Pearl adjusted their positions until Gem was clinging her legs around Pearl’s waistline with her arms resting on Pearl’s shoulders.

Pearl half expected Gem to groan in protest, but she didn’t. Gem just accepted the movement, burying her face against Pearl’s neck with her ear against Pearl’s shoulder. From there, transferring Gem inside took no time at all. Gem had left the door to her cottage open, permitting Pearl easy access to enter and then kick it shut with her foot.

It would have been irresponsible to keep it open all night, even with torches spammed all over to prevent mobs from spawning. They could have missed a spot and, even if the mob didn’t spawn around here, it could wander over. It was never a good idea to take that risk.

Selfishly, Pearl kept Gem in her arms much longer than she needed to. She could have immediately set her down and tucked her back into bed, but, instead, she kept her in her arms. Pearl loved the feeling of Gem’s heartbeat against her skin and the warmth of her body heat. Logically, she knew that she could simply cuddle Gem underneath the blankets, but there was something about holding her girlfriend like this while she slept, caring for her, protecting her, loving her…

Pearl tightened her grip on Gem’s sleeping body, heart fluttering blissfully in her chest. It was a real possibility they would go against each other and even kill each other many times throughout these games, but none of it mattered right now. Not that it mattered much at all, anyway. They’ve caused each others’ respawns before for as silly as reasons as collecting trophies shaped like their heads, so it wasn’t that big of a deal! It was important to remember that this was simply a game, no matter how real it felt at times.

And, void, it felt very real at times…

Deciding it was time to finally lay Gem down, she approached the bed. Careful to support Gem’s neck, she slowly lowered her body to the bed in hopes of not waking her up a second time. Pearl gently brushed some of her ginger hair away from her face before leaning forward to place a soft kiss against her forehead.

Gem seemed to smile in her sleep, appearing content and safe. Pearl liked to think her presence contributed to that, if only to boost her own ego and make her feel accomplished. She liked making people in her life happy in whichever way that played out, whether it be by impressing them, making them laugh, or whatever else.

Pearl made sure to set Gem down toward the wall, leaving enough room for her to climb in next to her. The bed wasn’t huge– it was meant more for one person– but Pearl made do. She allowed her moth wings to drape off of the bed as she arranged herself to big spoon her girlfriend.

While this wasn’t exploring the map or staring at a beautifully bright light, Pearl was right where she wanted to be. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep for a few more hours, at least, even cuddled next to Gem, but she couldn’t even imagine complaining. What sort of fool would protest a night spent with the love of their life? Pearl knew she would never get bored of this, no matter how many times they went through this song and dance. As Pearl expressed time and time again, Gem was the light of her life, as blazing as a wildfire, and what moth could resist a flame?

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qkrovv · 10 months ago

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what are some ships you like ? (hmmm i wonder if mac and cheese will be on the list /silly)

i wonder... GOSH i really wonder if Mac n cheese are on number 1 in my ship list.... yeah yeah... I dont know........ Buddy, i think they on last place.. Not my favs at all...... Jokes a part! I'm not sure if you mean general ships or only Cookie run ships so i'll stick with the cookie run ones. I got mainly rarepairs as my favourite ships, so they mostly dont make sense! but anyways, here are some: Latte cookie / Roguefort cookie; Black pearl cookie / Captain Ice cookie; Dark Choco cookie / Whipped cream cookie; Cherry Blossom cookie / Caramel Arrow cookie; Affogato cookie/ Clotted cream cookie; Langue de chat cookie / Capuccino cookie ( CAPCHAT IS LIKE THE BASIC YURI SHIP COMPARED TO THE OTHERS--- LMAO); (im totally not using this as an excuse to show some of my rarepairs...) BUT HEY.. IN THE END I LOVE MAC N CHEESE. SO I GUESS ALL THIS LIST IS ERASED WHEN I SAY IM THEIR 1ST FAN EVER AND THAT THEYRE LITERALLY THE FIRST COOKIE RUN SHIP THAT MADE ME INSPIRED ENOUGH TO MAKE THOUSANDS DRAWINGS OF THEM IN A NON JOKINGLY WAY.

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insanitynikoru · 3 months ago

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just love the ppnkgxppg art sm !! ! <33 if by chance can you explain your dynamic between them?

yhh >:) tbh my dynamics can shift depending on the context (for ex if i'm entertaining aus or scenarios). +it's kinda hard to explain their dynamic w/o also talking abt my hcs for each character bUT ANYWAy dsjgk

bratubbles: starting w this one cus they're kinda the more « normal » pair (aka i don't ever think abt them so i don't have much to say, rip). they are,,, black cat/white bunny (barfs); brat being kitty, bubbles being bunny. not exactly "opposites attract" but also not entirely compatible. brat values her independence and borders avoidant tendencies (but also not really?) making her more passive in the relationship. kinda has a habit of making bubbles cry. bubbles is like her little pet. she loves her, but also has to resist the intrusive urge to grab her by the ears and swing her around. and bubbles is just,,, "i can fix her :pleading:" kind of gross bs

i don't have much on this one sorry chat 💀 i'd have to rly sit down and think about them at some point

brutercup: my hcs for brutercup closely align with my friends @/saschy123 and @/gkt-tummyaches !! if u ever see their hcs, just know that i nod in agreement. brute is the epitome of toxic/abusive, dominating and anti-social, and bc eats it up cus she's a little guy and loves brute sm. sadist x masochist vibes both in kink and in general that's pretty much it asjkf

soft/bottom brute does not exist in brutercup pls- brute is just not a good person. 'soft' tendencies exhibited by brute are more for her own personal gain or power trip rather than for the sake of the relationship. bc is 100% aware of it but simply doesn't give a fuck because she knows what she signed up for.

blosserk: this one [grins evilly] my fave <3 (if that wasn't obvious jksdg) i like making this one suffer !!! esp berserk !! doomed yuri, complicated, yummy. they are terribleee at communication. berserk sucks at trying to convey what she feels correctly and blossom takes it as criticism, and will resort to stonewalling techniques in the right circumstances. both of them expect a lot of change from one another but both of them are too stubborn to put in the effort to change themselves, making them constantly in and out of the arguing phase. they always have problems !! on a more wholesome note, they have cute dates; picnics and shit *rolls eyes*

a different dynamic i have with blosserk is more unrequited. berserk crushes on blossom but the latter doesn't feel the same. i have/had a whole au surrounding this as a kid that's just a whole failed enemies-to-lovers arc where berserk tries to reconnect with blossom on more neutral terms but blossom is too arrogant and cannot look past her former reputation of being a villain. role-reversal; ends up being the one that gives berserk a hard time than the other way around. ex-lovers kind of feel. berserk is very self-destructive when i think abt this dynamic. i like this one better cus i play with it more + there's more angst potential 🥰

#ppg #ppnkg #ppg x ppnkg

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romancemedia · 1 year ago

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I couldn't help, but make a post about Miyo and Kiyoka's meals together. It's really sweet about how far they've come in their relationship since they first met and them eating meals together is a prime example of that.

Due to his previous bride candidates being spoiled selfish brats, Kiyoka was cold and stern while Miyo braced herself, expecting to be mocked and treated cruelly as she was before with the Saimori family.

The first meal they had together was far from perfect. He accused her of trying to poison him for crying out loud! And their first dinner together was uneasy and scary (for Miyo anyway and who could blame her?).

But seeing that Miyo was truly different compared to all of his previous brides-to-be as well as Yurie defending her, Kiyoka gave Miyo the first apology she's ever had in her entire life and another chance to make breakfast for him the next day! The result, he enjoyed and complimented her cooking, allowing her to break out into tears of joy for the first time in her life!

Since then, slowly yet slowly, Miyo and Kiyoka grew more comfortable around each other at dinner time and Miyo was happy that he continued to enjoy her cooking and ate every last bite. They even begin to break the ice by making more effort in conversation, another step in their blossoming relationship.

Eventually, Miyo and Kiyoka's relationship proved real and true, each seeing the other for who they really are and loving and accepting them. Now their meals together are filled with so much love and happiness, allowing Miyo and Kiyoka to be themselves without any worry or fear of rejection. They are truly happy and comfortable together with the added bonus that Kiyoka playfully teases Miyo occasionally!

In the beginning, Miyo and Kiyoka were complete strangers who were expecting the worse, but now they've become a loving couple, opening their hearts and finding true love, which continues to be shown through each meal together.

#My Happy Marriage #Netflix #Anime #My Thoughts #Miyo x Kiyoka #Miyo Saimori #Kiyoka Kudo

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everybody-loves-purdy · 1 month ago

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same blossom + hawk anon, here are more ideas i came up w/ while high. im a bit of a stoner: 1: dappletail's kits, featherkit and cricketkit, were stormtail's kits. i mean come on, a blue kit and a white kit?? where have i seen that before (not saying this is a great idea) 2: speaking of dappletail, bluepaw witnessed stormtail protecting dappletail instead of moonflower. she developed an irrational hatred towards dappletail for this, despite knowing it was stormtail's choice. and when she had her kits (she kept them in this idea), she was overprotective 3: windflight ran away w rainfur and that's how thistleclaw became such a shit 4: redtail killed thistleclaw, and bluefur appointed him as her deputy as a result when she became leader. i find this idea extremely funny now bc i always headcanoned redtail as being the runt of the litter. there is a visible height difference between him and his sisters. 5: whitestorm somehow disowned snowfur? i don't know what prompted this one. i like to think he never had a childhood 6: (i see many blossomfall ships for context) i thought it would be funny if she just dated everyone. blossomfall + thornclaw? sure they make each other worse. blossomfall + ivypool? absolutely, toxic yuri but they never break up. blossomfall + dovewing? sure but i think they'll break up at some point. blossomfall has one of the prettiest canon designs anyway 7: when stormfur moved to the mountains, graystripe ran away w/ him. idk what prompted this because i hate graystripe as a character. somehow he got millie pregnant still, and briar moved to the mountains w/ him and stormfur, whilst millie moved in thunderclan with bumble and blossom. bumble later moved to shadowclan and blossom became a loner who visited all of the clans occasionally 8: maggottail committed unspeakable acts. 9: maggottail is also clinically kitty-insane. everyone thinks he's strange and that you shouldn't talk to him. that's how he's so old (im pretty sure he's described as an old spirit at some point) and still remembered. he has a friend group w/ silverhawk and sparrowfeather anyway. 10: tigerclaw and sasha were never a thing? i don't have any issue with them, but a high-idea was that sasha had two different litters; tadpole and two other kits in one, and hawk and moth in the second. the father of the litters were Stonefur and Mudclaw respectively. this idea is also surprisingly fleshed out and i can elaborate if you want cause it's kinda wild 11: hollytuft hated being compared to hollyleaf and murdered jayfeather at some point. she wasn't exiled for this?? just to reiterate, these are ideas i came up with while high. i promise i never think these thoughts regularly 🙏

These are all genuinely interesting!

#anonymous #drug use tw

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yuri-review · 1 year ago

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Young Ladies Don't Play Fighting Games (2020 - ?)

Young Ladies Don't Play Fighting Games is a currently 5 volume long ongoing yuri manga series by Ejima Eri. It's an unhinged tale set in an all-girls school where gaming is strictly forbidden, but our main characters, Mitsuki Aya and Yorue Mio, ignore that and game it out anyways! Could the mutual love for 2D fighter games blossom into something more?

(The answer is... yeah, probably! Full review under the cut!)

The writing and plot: 3.5/5

In terms of plot, Young Ladies at the start has very little actual plot, focusing more on gaming as is appropriate! The later volumes introduce a tournament arc and more complicated character relations, which are a welcome addition after getting acquainted to the characters and the mechanics of the game they play, Iron Senpai 4. Did I mention that there's a made up game with all the fleshed out mechanics and character roster of a fighting game? It brings with it a LOT of explanation of game mechanics, which are a fun read if you're even mildly interested in it, but not completely relevant if you're not. Overall, I enjoy the writing!

The characters: 4/5

As is often the case with less plot heavy manga, the characters serve as one of the main pulls to this manga, and they serve their part well! Our main duo has a fun dynamic and individually unique personalities. By unique I actually mean that characters like them don't show up all too often! Aya and Mio are very distinct characters with fun and exaggerated traits to them, but they're still grounded in reality. The rest of the cast is enjoyable as well, and I particularly like Yuu! Oh, and might I mention that in the spirit of True Gamers, the characters are all incredibly intense to varying levels! As my final comment on this category, I'll mention that the character designs are super cute ^^

The yuri: 3.5/5

We're not quite there yet but I know we're getting close to the full yuri experience and ohhhhh I cannot wait! Aya has been a gay mess from the very start, and SPOILERS with an apparent awakening to these feelings, she's becoming more and more of a mess.

Various short segments:

The humor: 4/5, it's a fun manga! The jokes hit most of the time, not that much to say about it.

The art: 5/5, I can't believe I've forgotten to include this segment in my previous reviews! I love how intense the art can be, and the designs of the fighting game characters are so fun!

Conclusion: 3.5/5

I read it all in one go, and I have no regrets! It's very enjoyable for SURE but I hesitate to give it a higher rating before it ends. Go give it a shot though!!

#yuri review #yuri manga #yuri #young ladies don't play fighting games #action yuri #recommended

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imhereformysciencefriends · 1 year ago

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@mcyt-yuri-week Day 2: AU

This work is explicit! Read on AO3 here.

Meet me down by the river, Bring the pumpkin seeds, the autumn stone, Meet me down by the river, Bring the cherry flowers, the breath of spring, Meet me down by the river, Bring summer’s fire, winter’s wet cold, Meet me down by the river, Bring your candlelight, and your voice to sing.

Gem sang softly to herself as she approached the designated place, candlelight flickering across her face from where she held the slowly melting wax in one hand, big baskets slung over her shoulder of her other arm and flowers braided all throughout her hair.

At the river’s bank stood Lizzie, pumpkins growing hilter skilter all around her, her massive pumpkin-turned-house behind her and nestled in the big, broad leaves. Gem once again felt a pang of jealousy: she could never grow pumpkins that big. But Lizzie had been doing this witch stuff a bit longer than Gem, and every witch had her strengths and weaknesses—er, opportunities for growth!

In this case literally.

“Gem!” Lizzie greeted, her plain blue robe fastened loosely around the waist, nothing but that and her hat and her cheerful attitude adorning her.

“See, you were smart. You just built on the river. You don’t have to hike ten billion miles.”

Lizzie chuckled, gathering her hair behind her before letting it fall loose. Not much point trying to put it up now, since she’d just be letting it back down in a minute anyway.

“But if you didn’t live up on the mountainside, who’d bring me the flowers?” she asked with a grin and grabby hands, and Gem giggled as she handed ‘em over. Beautiful pink blossoms, collected by the hundred.

Gem stretched her arms above her head, hardly sore from carrying the baskets of flowers but happy to hold her arms at something other than a ninety degree angle for the first time in a few hours. Lizzie got to work scattering the blossoms amongst the candles circling the campfire. Above the campfire, low flames and lower heat, hung the “stewpot,” a hollowed out pumpkin with potatoes and wild hare simmering inside (and knowing Lizzie, it had been simmering for hours already). Gem set her own candle amongst the other lights, scattered some flowers of her own until there was a “walkpath” of pink and green encircling the inner candles, but encircled by the outer. Gem nudged one of the candles in the outer ring, wanting it just a touch further from the blossoms they spread out.

“Alright!” Lizzie said, hands on her hips and feet stanced wide, proudly surveying the area. “That about does it, I think! Ready for dinner?”

“Just us tonight?” Gem asked. Usually they had at least a couple guests, novice witches or curious friends wanting to see if the rumors were true themselves.

“Just us! I might’ve made too much stew, now that you mention it.”

“Eh, anything leftover’ll soak into the ashes afterwards,” Gem waved off, taking a seat at the edge of the fire and using half of the “lid” of the stewpot to ladle out some stew and bring it to her lips. Lizzie took the other half and did the same, the two enjoying companionable silence and anticipation together. The potatoes and hare were really just to have something in their bellies before the event started, they weren’t important the way the pumpkin was important.

Lizzie finished first, and waited for Gem to have her fill—but not too full—before the pair stood, stretching lightly. The final dregs of dusk finally slipped away, casting them all in the cold blanketing darkness of night, but the candles were numerous enough that neither worried about mobs. Not that mobs tended to get too close, anyway, when such magics were stirring.

“Well come on then,” Lizzie urged, tugging loose the cloth belt around her waist and letting her blue robe drop to the cool earth, fall’s breeze prickling her skin.

“Excuse you! Not all of us can just wander out here from across our front yard! I had to dress for mountain climbing you know,” Gem said, peeling off her own layers. Her bare toes curled against the cool grass and flower petals, goosebumps breaking out with each layer she removed. She’d appreciate the cold in a minute, but right now forcing the layers off was nearly unbearable.

“I could help?” Lizzie offered with a waggling of eyebrows and a cat’s grin, and Gem stuck her tongue out.

“You’ll help me plenty later,” she said as she undid her pants and yanked both sturdy denim and lacy underwear down and off her. She kicked her pantleg off her ankle with a huff, then entered the candlelight opposite Lizzie, the campfire crackling lazily between them, flower petals soft beneath her feet.

”Meet me down by the river…” Gem started, her voice hitting high, clear notes. Around them, Autumn brushed against their skins, the hairs on their arms and the backs of their necks prickling.

Lizzie’s voice joined with Gem’s, and the two started walking clockwise along the floral path, taking their time to start. Against their ears, both could hear the far off giggling of Spring.

The fire, untouched by human hands, began to rise, no additional kindling added but its flames burning higher and hotter, so that the pumpkin in its middle was obscured. Cold pressed in like hands against a window pane, outside the outer candles’ ring, but did not seep in any farther into the fire’s glow.

The first song finished, then the fun really began.

They forfeited walking, and began to dance.

Naked and wild, they danced, and they sang, Gem’s red hair blazing in the firelight, Lizzie’s pale skin gleaming in the moon. Gem’s voice was louder, but Lizzie’s less prone to stumbling over half-forgotten words, carrying when Gem’s memory faltered.

They both began to sweat, despite Autumn’s presence, dancing and twirling and stomping and waving their arms about wildly, no drumbeat except their feet upon the earth, no strings except the chords of their voices. Wild, bold, joyous, the witches sang and danced under the full moon and like water into a skein they felt the magic join them, enter them. Wild as the hare they caught and ate, wild as the seasons in their capricious natures, wild as the moon that loved the ocean and the sun that loved the moon, wild as magic had always been, would always be.

Gem felt it pool inside her, cold as ice water but not chilling her. Hot as a match but not burning. It glinted and glistened and ran and laughed and sang with them. Oh, how the magic sings. Voiceless and louder than thunder, the magic eclipsed the mortal voices of the witches that summoned it hither, and Gem never could tell at this point in the dance if her mouth was open because she was still singing or because that was necessary for how hard she was breathing.

Half-mindless with euphoria and adrenaline, the dance turned into a chase. Still wild, still rhythmic, still singing, Gem and Lizzie now lept like springing deer, pursuing one another as animals in flight.

Lizzie was smaller, and dexterous, but Gem was a historically sore loser, with physical aptitude to match. Lizzie tried to chase, at first, and then attempted to outrun, but her lithe little legs were no match for Gem on a hunt, and soon her freckled arms tangled around pale skin, rushing her so the two collapsed onto the ground. A rush of petals exploded around them at the force of their descent, and Gem grinned, eyes half-glazed over with the song and dance and base instincts of the hunt. Lizzie giggled up, perhaps even more moon-drunk than Gem, and Gem bent to lay claim to her prize.

Lizzie moaned into her mouth, arching up off the pretty pink petals, her pretty pink hair splayed out, messy and askew, upon the blooms. Gem caressed her body with the wild fervor of a witch in dance, and Lizzie gave as good as she got, tangling fingers in wild red hair and hiking her spread legs up over Gem’s thighs and hips.

The punishment of ‘losing’ the chase was, of course, that Lizzie was forced to lay there and take it as Gem sank her mouth to Lizzie’s lower lips and sucked like a drowned man gasping for air. That Gem won the hunt and so could touch and grope and surge and act while Lizzie was subjected to her whims. The punishment for ‘winning’ was, of course, that even as Gem squeezed palmfuls of soft flesh and thrust her tongue into her folds, Gem’s own cunt hung wet and dripping and exposed and untouched.

Well, until she was finished with Lizzie, at least, the witch’s howls of pleasure crescendoing in the magic as a wolf’s to the moon. Gem gave her shaking body not a moment of reprieve, crawling up with little pink petals sticking to her sweat damp skin. The moment she was able, she lowered herself to Lizzie’s panting mouth, fingers parting her own folds, orange bush wiry against her too-sensitive skin. Everything was too much, right then, magic pooled in her and the song resounding in her skull, but neither was it enough.

Lizzie took to her task enthusiastically, Gem gasping and rocking her hips down on her face. Lizzie’s arms came up to grasp around Gem’s thighs, and Gem switched to burying her fingers in pink hair, wild with abandon and careless of Lizzie’s comfort. This far into the lust-blind haze of magic and adrenaline, neither would feel it if either of them even was in any pain. Even moon-drunk, Lizzie knew how to use her tongue, and it wasn’t long before Gem was wailing and gasping as well, back arched in the candlelight and silver of the moon.

As her paroxysm crashed over her, so too did the magic reach its climax within her. She could feel it imbuing her, not just filling her but permeating her every inch, from the dips of her ankles up the lengths of her legs, to the peaks of her nipples and the flush in her cheeks. All throughout her the magic sank, and only then, with both their bodies fully penetrated, did the song finally reach its end.

Gem and Lizzie collapsed limply into the flower petals, breathing raggedly and neither able to focus their gazes. Gem fumbled blindly outwards, her hand reaching Lizzie’s by sheer luck, and the two clasped as their bodies desperately sucked in air.

Awareness returned slowly. The candles were all burned low, wax melted off whatever shallow dishes they were set in, or sometimes just flowing out directly into the grass. The fire was once again low and flickering. Gem was naked and sweaty and cold.

She groaned. She sat up slowly, feeling out her muscles carefully. Didn’t seem like she’d pulled anything.

“Lizzie, get up or I’m gonna eat the whole thing myself,” she muttered, stretching slowly from side to side, shivering now that she was aware of it.

Lizzie gave a groan of her own. “Not if I get there first you won’t.”

The two staggered to their feet like fumbling fawns and descended upon what remained of the stewpot, its outside blackened and charred to a crisp from the ritual but the insides soft and gooey and perfect. They ate with their hands, shoveling soft pumpkin and leftover stew into their mouths with a fevered hunger that lingered from the dance, each heedless of how it smeared around their mouths and cheeks and noses, each up to their elbows in pumpkin guts and blackened ash.

Only once the pumpkin was entirely demolished did their senses return to them, genuinely in full.

“Okay, I know it’s traditional to wash off in the river, but it is too cold for that! Lizzie, I’m stealing your shower first.”

“It’s my shower!” she whined.

“Well I won, so there!”

Cleaned up and redressed, the two collapsed into Lizzie’s bed together, exhaustion hitting them along with the late hour.

“Mhnmhng, that should… probably last us a few months, don’t you think?” Gem mumbled as they laid together in the dark.

“Maybe. I kind of have some things I want to try out that are heavy on the magic cost, so I might need to insist on doing it again next full moon.”

“You’re runnin’ me through the wringer here Lizzie,” Gem deadpanned, earning a small giggle from her companion.

“Oh, you love it.”

Gem huffed, and in lieu of answering merely snuggled Lizzie closer.

#slsmp #mcytyuriweek2023 #life smp #nsft #lemon dldr #witch au #magic au #mcyt yuri week #my writing #haro writes #prompt: au #thank you to everyone who popped over to my ao3 and left a nice comment I am kissing you so tenderly on the back of each knuckle #mcyt #gemlizzie #geminitay #ldshadowlady

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