#doomed yuri part two!!!

[icryink]

your beauty never ever scared me 🧡🩵

[kiwikiswia]

I'll keep walking on,

even if we never come to understand each other

for the rest of our lives.

[inventedsanity]

as much as i love elliedina, their relationship was never healthy, it was always filled with self-doubt and hiding truths from one another. i don't get how people blame dina, dina did so much for ellie. imagine taking care of your partner who is deeply mentally ill while also taking care of your child and battling your own trauma. dina can't fix ellie, it's not possible. and them separating was a way for them to heal in a way. it's hurtful to separate but it's the best choice to take. dina had sacrificed so much for ellie and it wouldn't matter cause she won't be able to fix ellie. cause in the farm chapter, we see her not be that happy, she's just hiding it away, locking it up.

i think it's best that they seperated, though it hurts, it's for the best. also i want to point out that if you go to the bedroom, you see dina has left hung ellie's jacket up next to the bed, and folded up sheets and a blanket and left a pillow, which just shows how much she loves ellie. she genuinely wants the best for her.

they were doomed from the start. doomed yuri is so insane.

[relic-seeker]

back when my oc yuri was wholesome & cute (i imagine this as a pre-relationship encounter, just before they met duke)

also yes maybe i am using hk ocs to project being mixed race & passing only for one. maybe i am. xP

[arolesbianism]

I am slowly drip feeding unit swap vbs more songs they have a whole 5 (ish) now wow good for them

[valtsv]

of course i know the difference between yaoi and yuri. yuri is when two female praying mantis fall in love but can never embrace because if they did instinct and tradition would dictate that they bite each other's heads off in an act of mutually assured destruction. yaoi is when two male deer lock antlers while fighting and get tangled together, dooming at least one of them to die and the other to the choice to either die with them or pull away and carry the weight of the responsibility for their death as a part of them for the rest of their life.

[aayakashii]

(maybe) distance makes the heart grow fonder

Warning: mostly angst, depictions of anxiety and a panic attack.

Part 1

You didn’t notice how far you actually had wandered after Towa had decided to take you back to Jabberwock’s dorm. He held your hand tightly, forcing you to keep up with his awfully fast pace.

You stumbled, trying not to fall down whenever you had to jump over a loose stone or some exposed root, but you were surprised with yourself – after pouring your heart out, you thought you'd have little energy to do anything besides breathe; yet there you were, power walking behind Towa as you two made your way back to the dorm.

The sight of the quaint cottage that was Jabberwock’s dorm filled you with relief. Even though you still managed to follow Towa, you were still exhausted. Your throat burned like lava whenever you swallowed and you could feel your face was terribly puffy. Your eyes were heavy and your nose was stuffy. Crying always took way too much energy out of your body and you were sure you could just curl up on the living room’s sofa and nap before forcing yourself to go on with your life.

Towa slammed the door open, still tightly holding your hand, and you watched as Haru jumped at the sudden sound, almost dropping Peekaboo’s feeding bottle.

“Geez, Towa! I told you not to slam the door open like that! What if Peekaboo was sleeping?!” Haru grumbled, scrunching his eyebrows as he gave a good shake on the bottle again, before turning around to face Towa. You were sure he was going to keep scolding Towa, if it wasn’t for the fact that the white-haired boy was smiling and humming happily while pointing at you.

“Oh! If it isn’t the Honor Student!” Haru quickly went back to his sunny mood and walked towards you, expertly feeding Peekaboo while doing so “I didn’t expect your visit! How are you… oh. What happened?”

You frowned and rubbed your face in your hands. You didn’t want to make your mental breakdown everyone’s business all of a sudden. That was the exact reason why you went to hide in Jabberwock - so you’d avoid being seen. Despite that, you could probably say you trusted Haru enough to talk about your problems without feeling judged. What you’d definitely feel, however, was guilty - Haru was probably the busiest man in Darkwick. Did you really need to give him more burdens to hold?

“I’m… okay.” you said, barely able to say the words as your voice was terribly hoarse. Beside you, Towa pouted and let out a sound of discontent. He was back at being silent, apparently.

Haru gasped, clutching his chest and you couldn’t help but smile a little bit. He always seemed a bit too dramatic, although that was truly just how he acted normally. He’d probably be good friends with Zenji, you thought for a moment.

“What happened to your voice?!” he asked, placing Peekaboo’s bottle on a nearby table. He quickly walked towards you and grabbed your arm and your chin, turning you this and that way under the natural light of his dorm, searching for other possible injuries. “Wait, don’t answer. It might be worse for your throat! Let’s take you to Mortkranken, okay? They’ll help and-”

“No.” you croaked out, grabbing his arm as tightly as you could. “Please don’t take me to Mortkranken.”

Nothing reminded you more of your impending doom than spending even a fraction of a second around Yuri. While some of the ghosts treated you like lesser than human, Yuri straight up treated you like an object. Something he had to analyze under a microscope; something convenient to him, since you could be the key for his glory. However, you’re pretty sure he would like you better if you didn’t talk.

A not-insignificant part of you could empathize with him. He just did it all for recognition. He wanted to be seen and admired and you could understand that. Always having to keep a mask of arrogance just to reassure himself that he wasn’t worthless must be tiring. You’d know that. You had to keep a mask of your own for way too long as well.

But then he would call you a worm and belittle you every chance he got so, after a while, all the empathy and patience you had in you faded away.

Haru quietly observed how your hand trembled as you held his arm and how your bottom lip quivered. He nodded, gently prying your hand away so he could guide you to a table.

”Okay. No Mortkranken then.” he said, motioning for you to sit at the table. As soon as you did, Towa dragged a chair to sit as close as possible to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You welcomed his touch.

“No Mortkranken” Haru repeated and raised his index finger “But you can’t just leave your throat like that!. I’m gonna make something for you real quick, okay? Wait a second! Watch Peekaboo for me.” you nodded as he placed the round ball of fur on your lap. Peekaboo greeted you happily and snuggled against your chest while you pet his head.

A few minutes later, Haru sauntered back to the living room with a huge steaming mug. He carefully placed it in front of you and picked up Peekaboo from your arms, not without some sounds of protest coming from the little anomaly.

You sniffed the golden drink in front of you, the sweet scent bringing a warmth to your face that you very much needed, as you felt your nose less congested. You looked at Haru, inquisitively, hoping he would understand your unspoken question.

“It’s ginger, honey and lemon tea! Well, uh, I put some anomalous medicine for colds in it too but…” he scratched his cheek, his smile a bit embarrassed “But! It’s what my mama would make for me whenever I got sick! It's fail-proof. Go on, drink it.” he motioned for you to drink it and gave you a thumbs up. Beside you, Towa nodded and let out a sound of approval, as if he was attesting to the tea’s efficacy.

You cracked a small smile while you held the enormous mug with both of your hands and thought about Haru's family for a second. You wondered if they were all nice and nurturing like him or if he was just a very good egg. You could imagine him having a very sweet and caring mom, and, in your mind, he’d be her spitting image. Both with fiery red hair and a smile that could convince you of anything. But more than anything, you could imagine him being the eldest child of a big family, full of little siblings that clung to him no matter where he went, begging their big brother Haru to go play with them. And he would. Of course he would.

You began to feel weirdly melancholic as you wondered why someone like him ever needed to make a pact. Was it for his family? And if it was, does he still keep in contact with them? Or was he ripped out of his own old life just like you were?

You drank the tea, feeling the sweet taste of honey mixed with the bitterness of ginger and lemon send a jolt of energy to your nerves. There was a third, unknown taste in it, which you assumed was the anomalous medicine, but you chose to ignore it. Right then and there, what was healing you wasn’t that - it was Haru’s and Towa’s kindness towards you.

The warmth of the drink spread from your chest to your fingertips and you felt tears pool in your eyes again. Apparently, the dam was broken and literally anything would make you cry - even your own fertile imagination and the abandoned Sagara family you had pictured in your mind.

You placed the mug on the table, taking a deep breath through your now decongested nose.

“How are you feeling?” Haru asked while finally feeding Peekaboo his bottle.

You nodded.

“Better. You’re a miracle worker.” you replied, surprised at how your voice already seemed to be less raspy than before. Towa hummed happily with a sing-songy voice, squeezing you a bit tighter.

“Haha! That’s probably the medicine working though!” he laughed, modest as always.

You shook your head, about to protest, when a loud stomp was heard from the top of the stairway that led to the bedrooms. Ren peeked his head down, clearly checking whether or not Haru was around to bother him. It was when he met your gaze, however, that his eyes widened in shock. At the sight of your puffy eyes and red nose, Ren mouthed an “o” and slowly backed away from the stairs, locking himself into his room once again. Beside you, Haru sighed loudly and scratched his head.

“I’m sorry about Ren. He still needs to practice how to be a good friend.”

You waved your hand dismissively.

“It’s okay, I don’t blame him. I would feel awkward if I saw someone crying in my living room too.” you let out a tired, breathy laugh and Haru grimaced.

“Do you feel like telling me what happened now?” he asked, after a few moments of silence.

You stared at the now empty mug. Cozy warmth spread in your stomach and your limbs, but you were still very much aware of the sinking dread that had hosted itself inside your heart. You knew that whatever comfort Haru and Towa were giving you was temporary, while your anxiety was way more resilient. Would Haru know what to do? Would he be able to offer a little bit of respite from your spiraling thoughts or would you just make things awkward?

As you opened your mouth to give him some sort of answer, you heard it.

Inside your pocket, your phone was pinging.

You felt your heart drop. With trembling fingers, you fished your phone out of your pocket and placed it on the table. There, flashing incessantly like a persistent and spoiled child, you were able to read the notifications that had been flooding in, unbeknownst to you.

Jin, Tohma, Leo, Romeo, Ritsu, Yuri.

Your breathing became labored once again. For a split second you wondered why these men wanted you around so bad when it was so clear that they hated you. Was the power trip that addictive? You wouldn’t know. You had too much of a conscience and that wouldn’t allow you to treat others like they treated you.

You tried focusing on your breathing as the familiar pressure behind your eyes began to build up. You were already so tired of crying and all the effort Haru had put into making that tea would go to waste if you began bawling your eyes out once again.

Where was all that courage you seemed to have during missions and why couldn’t you summon it right then and there, when all that terrified you were the men that dangled your life as a bargain chip in front of your eyes? They were just as dangerous, if you thought about it.

“Hey, hey. Let’s turn this off, ‘kay? You really need a break.” Haru’s gloved hand suddenly appeared before your eyes as he grabbed your phone and forcefully turned it off. Towa rubbed your back again, eyes glinting with concern, and you realized you were already making a fool of yourself, once again. You felt traitorous tears dampen your cheeks despite trying so hard not to cry.

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled, hastily drying your eyes with your hands.

“Don’t apologize for that! They’ve been giving you a hard time, right? Dealing with all the ghouls in here is a handful, you’re already doing so much more than I would be able to do!” Haru chirped, trying his best to cheer you up. You cracked a small smile at the fiery way he delivered those words.

“Yeah… It’s been… a lot. And I miss my home.”

At that, you noticed how Haru visibly flinched. Like the topic was a tender and open wound for him as well. Made-up images of his mother came back to your mind and you wondered if your guess about his family was right.

He then sucked his teeth, looking apologetic.

“I wish I could help you somehow…” he muttered, visibly upset at his inability to solve this specific problem as easily as he did his duties. You just shook your head.

“You already helped me so much. You and Towa. Thanks for being so understanding and making me that tea.”

Towa rubbed his cheek against yours, humming happily, and Haru barked out a laugh.

“We all need to be supporting each other a lot more, dontcha think?”

You nodded. You were pretty sure he was the only one who thought that in that entire place. The others would probably be happier if everyone disappeared.

And as you thought that, that word lingered in your mind.

'Disappear'.

It teased you, much like a mirage could fool a parched man, lost in a desert.

It was something you've thought of before, but it just never seemed possible. It was a common thought you had when you arrived at your dorm after a really long day of yells, insults and orders being barked left and right.

After your nervous breakdown, however, you felt like you needed to make it possible – it was a matter of life or death. You didn't know how you could go on while you felt like you were on the verge of being eaten alive by your grief, your anxiety and your fears.

You needed rest. Peace. Quiet. If only for a little bit.

There was no harm in trying. At least no harm bigger than the ones you already faced.

“Can I ask your opinion on something?” you spoke, after a few moments of silence.

“Oh? What is it?” Haru's back straightened and his eyebrows shot up, his attention fully back at you while he nursed Peekaboo.

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“How screwed do you think I’d be if I disappeared for like. One or two weeks?”

His smile slowly melted away from his face and turned into a frown. It would be funny if your hands weren't clammy with sweat as you asked. You were pretty sure Towa could feel the spike of your heartbeat in your neck, since he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Disappeared? As in leaving Darkwick? I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“No, no.” You shook your head “I wouldn’t leave. I just want some time away from them. The ghouls. Spend a few days in a place where they won’t search for me. Or somewhere I can stay hidden.”

Haru tilted his head to the side, thinking.

“I don't know how you'd pull it off. The academy would probably search for you too."

You suppressed the urge to scoff. The Academy knew your whereabouts at all times. As long as you stayed inside Darkwick, you figured they probably wouldn't care where you were. They just couldn't know you were planning on not doing your job as an inspector, but… what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right?

“You think? I don't think they care that much. As long as I stay inside the Academy, it'll probably be okay.”

“Well… But what if they summon you to a mission?”

You waved your hand dismissively.

“I'll cross that bridge when I get there. But I think I made up my mind. I want to do this. I need to. All I want you to be my accomplice and say you don't know where I am if someone searches for me.”

Haru opened his mouth, and then closed it, changing his mind on whatever he would say. He sighed, defeated.

“Okay…”

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“Thank you, Haru! Towa?”

The boy, that was still hugging you tight, nodded happily.

“But where would you stay?”

At that, Towa pouted at Haru and stomped his foot on the ground.

“But Towa–” he began.

“No, it’s okay, Towa.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “I know I can't stay here. The vacant rooms are being used as storage for the animals right? I can't crash here without forcing you guys to go through a very tiring cleaning process.”

You had helped Jabberwock far too many times to know that a lot of the supplies Haru used were being piled up inside the dorm rooms. If a new student joined them, it would probably take some precious time to make room for them – time that Haru and you didn't have.

“I mean, we could try to empty a room and clean it up–”

“No, it’s okay. That'd be a hassle. I’ll go to Obscuary.” you announced, final.

Towa immediately let go of you and grunted, stomping his foot again. You knew how much he hated Ed, but there wasn't any other option for you to choose. Hotarubi was Darkwick's little lapdog, and you don't think the students would help you stay hidden. You trusted Subaru, Zenji, and Haku with your life, but you couldn't say the same for all the others.

No, you needed complete isolation. Nothing better than the place that mostly everyone avoided after all. Towa would have to forgive you.

“There are some free rooms in Obscuary right now and I don't think Rui would mind. I've stayed there before.” you explained.

“Right! I've slept there before as well, after being a tad too tipsy, haha!” Haru added, trying to quell Towa's jealousy otherwise it'd probably bring forth a storm he definitely did not need.

The lavender haired boy pouted, looking to his feet. You grabbed one of his hands and held it tightly.

“I know you don't like that place, so I'll try to come here to visit you while I'm there, Towa. You won't have to go to that creepy forest, promise.”

He looked at you with glistening eyes and nodded timidly. You sighed, relieved. You didn't want to upset one of your closest friends just because of a selfish decision you were making.

“Thank you, Towa. You're amazing.” You kissed the back of his hand and he quickly smiled at your gesture.

Haru got up right as things were settled, and placed a happy and well-fed Peekaboo inside its crib.

“It's time to feed the rest of the animals. Give me a hand, Towa. We got a lot of field to cover.” he said as he stretched, his words sounding more like a groan than anything. Beside you, Towa nodded happily and dashed out of the door without hesitation.

“Wait! I didn't even tell you which animals you can feed! Gaaahhh, he's gone…” Haru yelled, pulling his hair.

You chuckled at his cartoonish behavior while he quickly prepared himself to go out after Towa.

“Do you mind if I stay here a little longer, Haru? I'm still very tired.”

“Of course! Our house is your house! Take your time. See ya!”

You watched as he activated his stigma and ran as fast as a lightning bolt to catch up with Towa, leaving the door to the dorm's entrance open.

You made your way to the door, pulling it closed, and sighed deeply, sitting on the couch.

Well, you had done it. You had given in to your selfish thoughts and hastily planned your temporary escape. Would it work? You had no idea. But if you got even one day of peace, you'd consider it a win.

You resisted the urge of grabbing your phone and scrolling mindlessly. You needed to be offline as much as possible in order to avoid everyone. You'd feel bad for some of them, like Kaito, Luca and the Hotarubi ghouls. But a secret held by too many people rarely stayed a secret.

"Senpai?" a monotone voice resounded behind you after a few minutes of silence and you jumped.

"Ren! Sorry, you spooked me." you gasped, placing a hand over your heart.

"Ugh, sorry..." he mumbled awkwardly, looking to the side. You stared at him, waiting for him to continue whatever it was that he wanted to say. You knew it was best not to hurry him up when he took the initiative to start a conversation, after all. "Er... you are feeling bad."

It was more of a statement than a question. Regardless, you nodded.

"So..." he mumbled a few more things you didn't quite make out "do you... like... do you wanna watch a movie or something? To distract yourself, I don't know..." he finished, rubbing the back of his head, clearly embarrassed by his own behavior.

In that moment, you couldn't help but feel your chest swell with affection for the boy in front of you. You knew how hard it was for Ren to open himself to others, much less allow them to participate in the things that mattered the most to him. To invite you to watch a movie was more than enough proof that Haru was wrong – Ren knew how to be a good friend, in his own way.

"I'd love that. Thank you so much, Ren." You smiled and he rolled his eyes, the pink on his ears betraying how he actually felt.

"Well then, let's go. I don't wanna wait too long to watch this movie. Also, it's going to be a trash horror, so if you don't like this type of thing, tough luck."

As he babbled, trying to hide his own nerves, you entered his room. Ren grabbed a chair and plopped himself on it, pointing towards the bed so you could lay down. You chose not to argue. He was already doing a lot more than you'd expect him to.

You snuggled against his pillows, trying to find a good position to rest and watch his notebook's screen. And to the sounds of high-pitched screams and gurgling monsters, you ended up falling asleep.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Doomed Yuri in my brain. Doomed Yuri. Doomed yuriiii based of Bloodborne

May or may not make a part 2. Idk. Just needed to throw this out here before I lost my mind.

Yandere Short Stories: Doomed From The Start

Yandere Lesbian Paladin x Saintess Reader x Onesided Yandere paladin

There is a secret third Yandere but that’s only if I ever decide to continue

TW: uncomfortable religious themes, body horror, internalized homophobia (religion), monsters, Yandere and toxic behavior, etc

Swoosh! A strong gust of wind blew through Ludwig’s long black locks, which made the cleric appear to have a dark halo above his head. His face remained stoic as he made his way towards the church with his worn out entourage. Another successful hunt and he had made it back to the church once more… a shame his peace was quickly shattered by a certain saintess.

“Ludwig!” The tall paladin froze when small arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. His icy blue eyes turned to glance down at (your name), the saintess, in disinterest. “I’m happy you returned safely. How did the hunt go?”

Ludwig hummed in response while he moved her arms off his waist. He merely put up with the young woman to get close to her friend, Desiree. (Your name) was not his type like the other paladin was. (Your name) was a delicate flower but Ludwig longed for the thorn.

Ludwig himself had no interest in the bubbly flower but he needed her to get closer to his dream maiden. (Your name)’s affection for him did not matter.

“It was fine.” Ludwig told her as the two of them headed to the church together for him to give his report. His blue eyes softened when they landed on Desiree, she was magnificent as ever, even with the dried blood on her silver armor. Desiree appeared angelic even when she was drenched in the blood of her enemies. The white haired woman made a beeline toward to the two of them. “Lady Desiree-“

Ludwig was shocked when Desiree pulled (your name) into a constricting embrace, one that was most common with lovers rather than friends. Her lofty body easily wrapped around (your name) like a blanket, her pale nose buried into the crown of (your name)’s head. Desiree’s hot breath tickled the smaller woman’s scalp, which made (your name) burst in a small fit of giggles.

“You act as if you haven’t seen me for years!”

“Maybe it felt like years since the last time I saw you?” Desiree lifted her head off (your name)’s head to stare into her eyes. Desiree’s silver eyes pierced (your name)’s very soul. “I hurried back from my mission just to come see you, (your name).”

“I’m just happy you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do if my precious friend didn’t return from the front lines.” (Your name) squealed when Desiree ruffled her hair, the smaller woman immediately began to protest. “Desiree!”

Desiree smiled brightly at (your name). She couldn’t help but tease (your name)… especially in front of Ludwig. The dark haired man’s glare was so intense, it burned holes into their heads. Jealous much? “I brought you something too.”

Desiree reached into her leather satchel and handed (your name) a white rabbit foot. “I know you hate the blood we collect, but I made sure to bring you back a good luck charm.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything-“

“Of course I did. You’re always in the church all alone." Desiree smiled warmly at (your name). The taller woman took (your name)’s hand in hers. “How about we head back? It’ll rain soon.”

“Oh but…” (your name) glanced over at Ludwig whose jaw was clenched. His icy eyes narrowed at the two women with disdain. Why was he so upset? Was it because she put all of her attention on Desiree? “I was going to walk back with Ludwig. We can eat supper together if you’d like, Desiree?”

Desiree frowned but sighed in defeat. The white haired woman turned to the brunette with a frown. She didn’t understand what (your name) saw in Ludwig. He was awful to her. A starving wolf would be kinder to (your name) than Ludwig ever could be. But Desiree knew it wasn’t her place to dictate (your name)’s choices in life. “I’ll see you then, (your name). Be safe, okay? I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“I will. I’ll see you around.” (Your name) waved her friend off before she turned her attention to Ludwig. “I apologize for that, Ludwig. Shall we be on our way before the rain falls?”

Ludwig clicked his tongue and nodded. All he needed to do was walk alongside the gregarious woman and satiate her incessant chatter with a simple nod or hum in agreement. Ludwig was only close to her to get to Desiree. (Your name) was simple like a dog.

(Your name) beamed and walked alongside Ludwig, a heavy blush on her cheeks. She was happy to walk beside her crush. It was wonderful to see such a soft side to the normally stoic man.

Ludwig ignored the shy glances she snuck his way. He could not wait for the day that Desiree would look his way. Ludwig knew she had no such need for a burden like (your name) around her. Desiree nor him needed a pet… no. A dog around them.

Ludwig would have to gripe about this experience in his journal once more. The tea colored paper was his only confidant in this cruel world. For Ludwig trusted no one in the church’s that he dutifully served. Not the head of the church and certainly not the saintess.

A shame Ludwig would one day regret the way he treated the ‘dog’ that once so loyally stuck by his side like a tick…

.

.

.

The candlelight dimly lit up Ludwig’s study. His striking features now on full display to the prying eye. His slender fingers scribbled fervently into the tea colored paper of his leather journal. He wrote his woes with utmost sincerity in obsidian ink. Bits of the thick substance splattered all over his hand and onto the desk. Speckles that rivaled the abysmal eyes of the beasts he had slain now stained the mahogany wood. A mockery to his ‘holy’ mission to cleanse the land of the curse that plagued the land.

The monstrous beasts that roamed the valleys demolished villages with no mercy. There was no end to the wave of madness that had sprung up over the last few years when the nearby villages became plagued with poverty and famine. The monsters seemingly sprung up from the ashes and began to try to attack the kingdom. It sickened Ludwig.

Many fighters have come and gone throughout the years. Many have even gone missing in action… yet Ludwig and Desiree remained as the top two paladins of the church. The only two that had fought side by side for nearly a decade… which was why Ludwig was so smitten with the white haired woman. She was a force to be reckoned with. A magnificent fighter he wished to keep by his side until he drew his final breath. An unattainable goal that was thwarted by a mere saintess. If that wench didn’t exist, Ludwig was positive that Desiree and him would have been wed by now.

It was all (your name)’s fault that Desiree did not covet his affections. The only good news was that (your name) admired him. A ‘holy’ woman longed for a pious man like himself. It was so pathetic, it was comical. A weakness he would exploit until his daydreams burst into reality.

Ludwig clenched his fist when he finished the final line to his long list of complaints about his disdain for a certain saintess. A big splotch of ink covered her name now which made him even more annoyed. Even when (your name) wasn’t present, she still disrupted his peace.

Ludwig stood up and moved his quill and ink back onto his desk. Perhaps a walk would clear his head?

Ludwig gathered his snow white robes and exited his study, the door slammed shut behind him.

Unbeknownst to him, the pot of ink toppled over and split all over his desk. A puddle of black now laid all over the floor in a river of ink. An insidious omen.

.

.

.

Desiree sat in the confession booth, her hands folded together while she babbled a prayer. Forgiveness… she needed forgiveness for her sin.

“I am in love with someone of the church but I can never be with them. For I would burn in a pyre if I confess.” Desiree’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Will god forgive me for my grave sin?”

“You are forgive. Your sins are absolved.” The priest told her in a soft tone. “Lady Desiree, your devotion to god is like no other but even you are not without sin. I pray that you never stray from our god’s light and bring justice upon the land. That the blood you harvest for healing the sick and strengthening our clerics continue in a never ending flow. Bless you Lady Desiree, the Righteous.”

Desiree nodded and gathered her white skirts in her hands. She felt better now that she had gotten this off her chest. Yet she could not deny the queer feeling she had for her beloved saintess… her friend. Her precious (your name). Her angel. Her muse.

Desiree hurriedly made her way back toward her room, her mind raced with impure thoughts. She must paint… she needed to paint her muse.

Desiree paid no mind to her surrounding in her haste and her shoulder slammed into Ludwig’s. The cleric nearly doubled over in shock and joy. Had fate finally united him with the woman he desired? This was the first time they’ve had alone time since their last hunt.

“Lady Desiree, it’s lovely to see you-“

“Get the hell out of my way.” Desiree shoved past Ludwig with a huff which caught the cleric off guard. When was Desiree so uncouth? So ill-mannered? This was not the female paladin he knew, no. This was not her. This was not Lady Desiree, the Righteous.

The man ran a palm down his long black locks in shock. His heart didn’t stammer this time when he watched her silhouette disappear around the corner. The magic he swore she contained had fizzled out and died. The image he created of her in his head disappeared with it.

A reality slowly sunk into Ludwig. Perhaps he was not attracted to Desiree, but to the idea of her…

Ludwig sighed, perhaps he could pry information from (your name) about it? It was so easy to get the information he wanted from the saintess with sweet words.

(Your name) had her uses and Ludwig would exploit them for his own gain. He needed to be sure on whether or not the woman he saw tonight was the real Desiree. For if that was the case, perhaps he would settle for the saintess.

Possibly.

.

.

.

Desiree slammed the door shut behind her once she entered her study. Her hand hurriedly picked up some paint off her oak desk, a few brushes clattered to the floor in her haste. She had an irresistible urge to paint the woman she loved… wait. When did she paint such a perfect portrait?

Desiree collapsed to the floor to caress the delicately painted features of (your name). A desirous shudder escaped her plump lips as she traced her fingers over the face of her muse. She would sin once more. Desiree deserved this, she needed this.

Desiree had slaughtered thousands of beasts and harvested their blood in the name of the church. She deserved a reward. She deserved (your name) more than Ludwig did.

Desiree pressed her lips against the painting with a moan. She didn’t care that flakes of acrylic paint were on her tongue, she didn’t care that there was no warmth, and she certainly didn’t care that she was sexually attracted to another woman. To Desiree, this felt right. This was god’s will.

Desiree hurriedly untied the sash to her robe, her bare body now revealed to the eye of the moon. The moon her witness of her great sin, of her love for her friend.

“God forgive me… forgive your selfish soldier for I cannot deny this earthly pleasure. I do not wish to break my oath…” Desiree felt a few tears fall down her cheeks, she felt as if she lost control over her desire. Her head spun with dizzying emotion that would drive any sane person mad… ever since the church had insisted their soldiers drink the blood of the monsters, Desiree had been restless.

Restless with desire for her unreciprocated love… yet she’d never tell her precious angel the sinful feelings she held. Desiree would take this overwhelming affection to the grave.

Desiree turned to the painting that lay on the floor with a smile. For now, she could be satiated with this… for now.

And while she indulged herself in pleasure, white fur and various eyes began to sprout on her arms.

This was the start of a transformation. The beginning of the end.

.

.

.

“Help me. Help me!” (Your name) shot up from the bed, her heart raced in her chest like a race horse. Her body covered in a thick sheen of sweat. Another nightmare…

(Your name) couldn’t sleep. She was often plagued by nightmares of people crying for help ins own sort of dungeon… and it terrified her. She often had psychic dreams due to her divine power, but never ones these vivid… or terrifying.

There was something amiss in this church. That there was an invisible evil lurking in the air.

(Your name) rose up from her cotton sheets, to quickly wrap a robe around her white nightdress. Maybe a walk would clear her head?

(Your name) slid some slippers on her feet, snatched up the oil lantern beside her bed, and a match. She hastily brought the flame to life to find her way through the dark. (Your name) wanted to satiate this inordinate curiosity before it killed her.

She quietly left her room and glided down the hall like an apparition. Her long robes billowed behind her in the light breeze once she reached the open windows.

The moonlight illuminated her soft features, making her appear angelic… a suitable appearance for the saintess herself.

She allowed her feet to guide her down the hall and toward a hidden stair well. There was a sinister phenomenon going on beneath her. A truth that screamed for her to discover.

The farther she went down the stairs, the stronger the feeling of déjà vu became. The wall became more familiar… it was the one that haunted her dreams. The one in her nightmares.

And when she finally made it to the bottom of the stairwell, her entire body nearly convulsed in horror.

This wasn’t a dungeon… this was a laboratory. A laboratory full of the clerics and paladins who went ‘missing in action.’ Or at least what human pieces were left of them.

(Your name) begrudgingly stepped forward to glance at the books that laid open on one of the desks. The church was researching immortality through the blood of the monsters? Is that why they encouraged citizens and clerics alike to drink the blood? Good god… this was a crime against their god. This went against their entire purpose…

“Kill me… kill me…” (your name) put a hand over her mouth as she quietly began to sob for the poor soldiers whose humanity remained in tact. They didn’t deserve this… but she didn’t have the strength to kill them.

How was she to know that the church wasn’t actually helping people? That the church merely wanted to research how to gain immortality?

She needed to tell someone… she needed to report her findings to the citizens!

(Your name) quickly scurried away when she heard voices. Unaware that one of the paladins that laid in the dungeons had caught sight of her…

“(Your name)?” A distorted voice asked softly in the dark, multiple clawed hands grabbed at the steel bars that kept him contained. “My lovely girl is still so beautiful…”

.

.

.

“Hello, (your name).” (Your name) nearly leapt out of her skin when the familiar baritone voice of Ludwig reached her ears. She quickly whipped around with a rosy blush on her cheeks. (Your name) hadn’t seen the paladin over the last few weeks since she had been so busy sneaking around for information.

“O-oh you scared me, Ludwig…” (your name) bowed to Ludwig to try to hide her embarrassment. “I’m not used to you seeking me out.”

“Is there a problem with me seeking you out?” Ludwig quirked a brow at her which made (your name) hurriedly shake her head. She was like a rabbit. It would have been adorable if he were any other man, but alas he had no interest in her in that sense. She was a means to an end to him was all. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Not at all… have you come to ask about my whereabouts?” (Your name) asked in an excited tone, her face lit up with hope. “I found out something rather interesting. You see, the blood-“

“No. I actually came here to ask about Lady Desiree.” Ludwig frowned at how instantaneously (your name) deflated like a ballon. He needed her for this info so he should cut to the chase. “I ran into her the other night and she seemed a bit off… I’m concerned about my peer.”

“She has been a bit off lately… everyone has.” (Your name) replied softly. “The two of you, as well as the other paladins and clerics, have been consuming a lot of the blood for power right?”

Ludwig nearly sighed aloud in frustration. Was (your name) trying to sneak her research into this conversation? He couldn’t care less about that, he merely wanted to know if Desiree was actually uncivilized.

“Yes.”

“Desiree has been quite stressed lately. She’s been working really hard.” (Your name) frowned at Ludwig. She may be naive but she wasn’t stupid, she knew Ludwig didn’t want to hear about her secret discover��� no one did. “I think she should take a break for a while, maybe she’d get back to normal quicker? I’m worried about her too, Ludwig.”

Ludwig nearly screamed aloud in frustration. (Your name)’s information wasn’t useful at all! She wasn’t useful and it took everything in him not to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze-

A flash of white hair caught his eye, which made him compose himself. There Desiree was- what on earth?

Desiree slammed her shoulder into Ludwig’s to bend down to hold (your name)’s hands with a soft smile on her face.

“You’re worried about me?” Desiree’s breathing is irregular and that’s when Ludwig noticed the bandages wrapped around her arms. Had Desiree injured herself? She didn’t have any injuries during the most recent hunt… “You don’t have anything to worry about, I’m perfectly okay.”

“Desiree, you have not been coming to my healing sessions and you’ve been so irritable lately.” (Your name) whispered, her eyes filled with concern. “Desiree, what happened to your arms?!”

Desiree looked nearly euphoric when (your name) fretted over her which raised alarm bells in Ludwig’s head. Why did Desiree act so strange around (your name) when he was right here? Ludwig deserved Desiree’s attention-

Ludwig felt bile rise in his throat when he thought he saw a red eyeball on the back of Desiree’s neck. What the hell was that?

Ludwig rubbed his eye and it was no longer visible. He swore he saw an abnormality on Desiree but perhaps his mind had played tricks on him. He had been exhausted as of late due to the mess the ink left behind on his desk and floor. It took days to scrub it all out. He had to get on his hands and knees like a beggar!

Yet there was still black ink stuck under his nails. He had tried to pick under them with a sharp tool but even then, the tar black wouldn’t leave his nails. It was unsightly… just like the disheveled Desiree before him.

“Nothing to be concerned about. I’m perfectly okay.” Desiree glared at Ludwig who seemed puzzled over the matter entirely. Desiree couldn’t stand that narcissistic jerk. “How about you come to my study with me?”

“Your study? We should go to the infirmary.” (Your name) grabbed Desiree’s hand and began to drag the paladin toward the infirmary. “Goodbye, Ludwig.”

Ludwig bit his tongue, his eyes narrowed at (your name) who dragged Desiree away. He was angry yet… why did Desiree look at (your name) like a starved animal? (Your name) was a helpless lamb… what if Desiree hurt her? Wait.

Ludwig felt his stomach flip in anxiousness. Why were his emotions so jumbled? Why did he care what happened to the saintess?

Ludwig went to turn on his heel to head back to his own study but an overwhelming emotion overtook him. He needed to follow them. He needed to know the truth.

And so the cleric slinked after the two in the shadows. Ludwig hoped Desiree didn’t find him creepy…

He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if his angel hated him.

.

.

.

(Your name) felt bile in her throat at the many eyes and patches of fur that littered Desiree’s arms. This was so much worse than she thought… Desiree was turning into a beast.

“It’s really not that bad-“ (your name) smacked her hands on Desiree’s cheeks. The healer slowly began to sob which instantly made Desiree frantic. “No, don’t cry. I’m okay-“

“I made a discovery awhile ago...” (Your name) sobbed as she placed her head on her friend’s shoulder for comfort. “The blood is tainted. It’s evil… but I can’t get anyone to believe me-“

“Darling, I assure you that I’m stronger than ever. This is merely a setback-“

“None of you are slaying monsters.” (Your name) muttered so softly, Desiree almost didn’t hear her. “You’re killing humans. I… I saw the missing soldiers in the basement and they started to turn into monsters. I don’t want you to go there too. I don’t want you to be an experiment…”

“I’m just so happy you care so much about me and the other soldiers.” Desiree smiled at (your name), her hands held (your name)’s in her calloused palms. “Your eyes are always on Ludwig so I had assumed he was the only star in your galaxy… it upsets me to see you fawn over that narcissistic bastard.”

“Oh I merely admire Ludwig. He’s very goal oriented and a great role model. He just makes me nervous is all. I don’t like him like that-“

(Your name) gasped when Desiree suddenly flipped her over to rest on the desk. Her hands desperately grasped at (your name) clothed skin. What on earth was Desiree doing?

“W-what are you-“ (your name) gasped when Desiree slammed her lips against hers in a hungry kiss. Desiree ground her hips into (your name)’s which made (your name) quickly shove her away. “Stop!”

Desiree gasped and began to stammer our apologies. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!” Desiree felt tears gather in her eyes from the rejection. She hadn’t meant to make (your name) uncomfortable… she thought (your name) had wanted to kiss too! “I don’t know what came over me-“

Desiree gasped when (your name) leaned forward and began to use her divine power on her. A warmth enveloped desire as the eyes and hair slowly began to fade away.

“Do you feel better?” (Your name) sucked in a deep breath before she exhaled in relief. A bit of sweat dropped down her forehead. She didn’t realize how much divine power it would take to reverse the change… but it was possible. “If you start to change again, can you come to me?”

Desiree nodded her head, her cheeks still red with embarrassment. How foolish was she to believe the saintess harbored romantic feelings for her…

“I’m sorry for doing that. I’m so ashamed-“ Desiree’s eyes widened when (your name) placed a finger over her lips.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed.” (Your name) gave Desiree a reassuring smile. “Loving someone should never be shameful. You just shouldn’t kiss people without asking them.”

Oh… oh! Did this mean Desiree had a chance?!

“Then… can I kiss you, Saintess (your name)?” Desiree asked in a hushed voice. Her silver eyes heavy with lust as her body caged (your name) to the desk.

“Of course Dame Desiree.” (Your name) was instantly pulled into a hungry kiss. The two women’s hands awkwardly roamed each other’s bodies until they found the perfect ratio of petting to kissing.

Little did the two lovers know of a certain paladin who had seen the entirety of their confession. Large horns began to sprout from his head as black fur covered his body.

What did (your name) mean she didn’t like him like that? Then why did she always seek him out if she didn’t love him? Was this all a game of hers to take Desiree from him? To play with him like a cat does a mouse until it gets bored?

No… he couldn’t accept this. They couldn’t be together. No, one of them had to be with him.

Ludwig quickly scurried off into the shadows before he was discovered. His body rapidly changing from man to beast as his jealousy consumed him.

When Ludwig finally made it back to his study, his new appearance horrified him. He was now as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside…

He was a monster.

[k9alpine]

ah yes… more doomed yuri!

these two are part of my little story I’m working on. I might post them more. Perchance…

[nextstop-fixationstation]

the most complicated thing i've ever drawn wheeeeeeeeee

heyyy you should super read The Three Body Problem by @liminal-lesbian! this is a cover i drew for her unprompted bc it gave me brainworms ehehehe

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Amphibia (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Anne Boonchuy/Sasha Waybright/Marcy Wu, Anne Boonchuy & Sasha Waybright & Marcy Wu Characters: Anne Boonchuy, Sasha Waybright, Marcy Wu Additional Tags: Angst, Doomed Relationship, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Sashannarcy Week 2024 (Amphibia), doomed yuri, i really mean this theyre DOOMED doomed, Anne Boonchuy Needs a Hug, Sasha Waybright Needs A Hug, Marcy Wu Needs a Hug, none of them get hugs, im sorry, Mind the Tags, Mild Blood, Implied/Referenced Suicide Series: Part 4 of Sashannarcy Week 2024 Summary:

Three Stars burning bright, come from beyond to expel the night. Should they fight or embrace the fall, their choice will determine the fate of all.

By grace of Ancient Covenant and Prophecy a world orbiting three Suns survives. Every 1000 years, three Avatars are chosen, the living embodiment of each Sun, and every 1000 years, two of those Avatars must die, extinguishing their Suns to ensure the survival of their world.

In the year 999 in the Age of Andrias the Betrayer, the next Age would be ushered in by one clumsy girl...

For Sashannarcy Week 2024, Day 5: Doomed Yuri

(actually tumblr can't support the full image size, so here's a discord link to the real file)

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Propaganda:

For Joongdok: "Well first of all Yoo Joonghyuk has a whole arc that is transfem coded as hell (has a power/technique that can technically only be used by women but somehow he can also use it, for a time he even turns into a woman to wield it and it's. Actually just let me get the quote "The ines of the face had changed but it was clearly Yoo Joonghyuk. No, it was even more than before.") that just kinda happens,, and doesn't get brought up again but anyway. Second of all just look at them. You see the vision. Also a bonus observation is that these two often get shipped in a poly ship with Han Sooyoung and whenever I see people make a "regular couple, yaoi couple, yuri couple, I see no difference love is love" meme with them the combination of which pair among these three is which of the categories is always different"

Note: This submission also mentions Han Sooyoung, but I decided to count this polyship submission as guy yuri as well.

"They love each other, they pretend they don't care for each other but all their actions prove they care too much, if you remove someone from the trio then the resulting duo is extremely dysfunctional, as evidenced by more than a million words of canon. Is it technically guy yuri? Well, Han Sooyoung is a woman, but in a way she's one of the guys. Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk are men, but the text heavily hints that Yoo Joonghyuk is a trans woman who's just too busy and stressed out to transition yet, and Kim Dokja has just never thought about his own gender a single day in his life. They made the world for each other, they went back in time countless times and waged countless wars for each other, they wrote and read and lived a story, their story, for each other and that's what saved them all. The way Han Sooyoung writes Yoo Joonghyuk's story to save Kim Dokja and loses herself in the process, the way Yoo Joonghyuk voluntarily lives the story to the point of losing himself too and even forgetting why he originally decided to do it, the way Kim Dokja read Han Sooyoung's story which was Yoo Joonghyuk's life and that's how he found himself, they all took so much from each other and gave so much of themselves to each other, this is all very yuri."

"they're so yuri you have no idea. they have every staple of a yuri ship. unwavering devotion. waiting dozens or thousands of years for each other. dooming themselves and the world for each other. so much yearning. i also see them genderbent a lot (including inn canon in the case of yjh) and they're right both of these people are women. i genuinely can't even see them strictly as men at this point they're just yjh and kdj and they are yuri do you understand."

"they're so yuri. the abscense of yuri is the presence of yuri etc etc. these two guys are all ABOUT abscenses. also one of them is a part time woman. the other guy is a guy but like in the same way a square is a rectangle. anyway they're so guyyuri to me. bonus points also because they have a mutual girlfriend and when she's present they're girlyaoi but that's not relevant to this specifically"

For Destiel: "There’s got something wrong with her(complementary)"

[keydekyie]

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! 

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[shoegazingmonad]

God even worse part about people shipping Meat June and Ult Dirk besides the whole LE shenanigans is that the last we hear from before her 'death' is a literal confession of her love to Terezi. There's so much genuine emotion shared between the two of them in June's final moments (which is incredible enough considering Terezi and June are very avoidant when it comes to discussing their feelings) and apparently most people would rather indulge in some random ship that barely makes sense for either of them as characters.

We've got this indescribably and beautifully tragic doomed yuri between Terezi, who'd spent ages searching for her past lover, no longer a partner of hers but now a girl nowhere to be found no matter how much she yearns and searches, who had meant so much to her that even a timeline was simply ruined irreversibly due to the lack of their presence combined, and June, who'd been lost in the 'perfect' world she hadn't ever asked for but had no choice to accept, feeling purposeless for years until a major decision she didn't have a real choice in was brought upon her suddenly, and despite it fulfilling the grander purpose she had believed was missing; she still leaves it victorious, dead and hollow.

June was one of the two people to witness Terezi's death and last act of heroism in the game over timeline where she instructed June to prevent her own act of grief from causing a butterfly effect leading to their doom. Terezi managed to find temporary solace within June's company after what felt like an eternity of nothingness and yet she became one of two people to witness June's death to Lord English's poison, and couldn't even will herself to hold her when she died because she didn't want to feel her pulse stop. And people want to ship June and Dirk instead?? We have such good material here and people want to ship the canon gay guy and the canon trans woman??? It befuddles me it really does

[withlove-xixi]

I came running to your requests the second I finished reading the chilchuck writing!! You have such an incredible grasp of his character I was so impressed! Can I request a fem reader x marcielle where they both are pining for each other but don’t know if each other are queer and pathetically try and dip their feet in the water only to quickly take them out before even knowing if the waters hot or not?? I know you like doomed Yuri but please give this a happy ending where they end up together!! Marcy suffers enough 🙏🙏

If you don’t do female readers or this request doesn’t interest you feel free to ignore it! Thank you for your service in dungeon meshing fanfics lmao

— THE SUN AND THE MOON: marcille x f!reader

ᥫ cw: burn mention (used metaphorically) ᥫ wc: 3226 ★ OH ANON, SWEET ANON. I AM MORE THAN DELIGHTED TO DELIVER YOU YURI (LESBIANISM IN MY VEINS .. MY CALLING .. MY DUTY)!! anyway, i fear i might've gotten a bit carried away .. but i hope you enjoy it regardless! cross posted on ao3

— IT MUST’VE BEEN DIFFICULT BEING THE SUN.

[♡]: that was the only thought running through marcille’s mind as she watches you gingerly patch up a tear in one of her dresses. she watches fondly as your fingers nimbly thread the needle through deep blue fabric with such care and gentleness, she almost envied it. well, what choice did she have but to envy it? what choice does the moon have but to want the sun’s warmth?

RISING SUN.

That’s what you were. Something bright, something inviting, almost tempting. Marcille felt drawn to you, she always had. There was just always some quality about you that drew her in, a radiance that seemed to guide her steps to draw closer and closer to you. It was nearly instant, the inviting sunshine that pulled at her, caused her to come closer until she extended her arm out towards you and introduced herself. It did not help that you smiled so brightly and sweetly. You grabbed her hand, warmth spreading from your body to hers, shook it firmly. Marcille had to try really hard not to think too much about you after that.

For a while she really wouldn’t tell why, she couldn’t tell what specifically about you kept tempting her. She felt it, nearly every moment of your time together in the dungeon, a small part of her that would always keep you close. Marcille would walk next to you, she would try and make small talk with you, she would offer to help you. The more she let herself bask in your light and warmth, the more she felt drawn to stay, until she was comfortably resting by your side, a sunny friendship that made her heart feel fuzzy.

High noon.

That’s what you were, hot and looming. You were always close with Marcille, something she would never fully figure out the reason for. But you were there, at the corner of her eye, staying by her side at a comfortable distance, watching her tie braids in her hair, putting your bedroom adjacent to hers. The tug she had initially felt when you two first met only grew, flames that only consumed her inside, filling her with sunshiny warmth. It was hot, nearly dangerously so, hot, blazing noon heat. Marcille began to overheat, cheeks would flush when your fingers would brush against hers when you walked together, brain would malfunction when you would worriedly bandage her minor injuries, stomach would twist in knots when you would smile at her. A smile so bright and sweet.

Marcille was half-scared she would explode. Or melt into a puddle.

Heat, dangerously hot heat. With the warmth came hesitation, the fear of being burnt if she stood too close, if she lingered under sunlight too long. The idea felt more like a promise than a threat, a guarantee that getting closer to you would end in failure, leave her brunt bright red, leave her howling in pain into empty space.

She liked you, there was part of her that screamed that obvious fact to her face as much as she wanted to suppress and deny the idea, let it die down to a passing thought. In her heart Marcille knew she still longed for the sun, she still craved for your hot touch, your bright smile, your warm company. She willed it in such a way, it was no longer simple friendship. It was something deeper, heavier. It was something that went past her niceties, that stemmed from the pits of her heart.

It was an aching sort of craving, a hunger that left her immobilized. It was the temptation of a forbidden fruit, of a light that would burn.

She saw the way you were with other people. People like the men in your party. Marcille had nothing against them, but still there was a small part of her that boiled green at the way you were around them because it was the same way you were with her but different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was a difference. Something small she could feel on the tips of her senses.

Marcille saw the way you were. She saw the way you giggled at Laios’ antics as he clumsily poked at some strange plant in the dungeon. She saw the way you praised Chilchuck’s handiwork, a compliment that proved only how observant you could be. She saw the way you teased Shuro for his awkwardness in the party during meal times. It might’ve begun to piss her off had it not been you. Marcille, as jealous as she might get around the boys, could never truly bring herself to feel so terribly when it's something about you. How could she when your laugh was like the warm summer breeze, your care like fireplace warmth, your smile like starshine.

Gods! Marcille wanted to tear her hair out. It was such a pain to be hungry, to so desperately crave for light, for warmth. It was a pain to be hungry for something you know you can never have, you could never even begin to imagine the taste of.

She kept her distance, an orbit just at arms reach. The same politeness and gentleness as the beginning, with the new caution for heat. She allowed herself to bask only in the reflection of your light.

Setting sun.

That’s what you were as you gingerly patch up a tear in one of Marcille’s dresses. Strangely it felt so domestic despite the other party members that crowded around your small campsite, despite the terribly difficult fight everyone was still recovering from, despite her keeping her usual far away distance. Her gaze lingered on you, studying the way your fingered moved with such grace and tenderness, she might’ve gotten jealous of the way you treated the needle had she not remembered you had personally offered to come and patch it up for her (a fix she definitely could’ve done — or normally would’ve gotten Chilchuck to fix for her — but could she really pass up the opportunity?).

Marcille watched quietly and carefully, musing at the way you chatted with Namari as you worked, the small smile that evolved into a snort and a chuckle at something Namari said that Marcille didn’t quite care enough to hear. She smiled fondly at your direction, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

Chilchuck nudges her as he moves to sit by her side near the campfire. She paid him little attention, not bothering to glance his way as she spoke. “What do you want?” Something a bit more curt than usual, but Chilchuck doesn’t care enough to be bothered.

“It’d be easier to just talk to her, you know,” he said plainly as he opened up his waterskin to take a sip.

Marcille snorts, finally turning to him with her brows furrowed in skepticism. “Right, because you’re so suddenly an expert at forming bonds?” She jests, causing the muscle under Chil’s eye to twitch slightly.

He sighs in satisfaction once he’s finished taking his drink. He points an accusatory finger at Marcille, it catches her off guard. “I’m just saying you should talk to her at least. I’m sick of hearing you sigh and giggle when you're just… staring… at her— it’s creepy!” Chilchuck says in a scolding manner.

Marcille’s cheeks turn red at the comment. “Wh—” She begins but your soft laugh cuts through the air and her ears pick up on the sound immediately.

No doubt Chilchuck has too, but he chooses to sigh at the elven girl. “All I’m saying is communication is important.” He stands and dusts off the back of his pants. “So get it together, Marcille. Do something about… this,” He gestures a hand vaguely at Marcille, “because I’m really, really getting sick of this nonsense.”

As he walks away, Marcille watches and grumbles something about how he should mind his own business, but she feels a presence appear next to her. She senses warmth.

Rising moon.

That’s what she was. Something alluring, something enigmatic, nearly mysterious. You had never met an elf before, not saying it was a bad thing but it definitely helped shine an interest on Marcille. Of course, it didn’t help that she was pretty. You were nervous, of course you were. You were fresh meat in a new environment, your next few days would be spent underground, enclosed by damp stone walls and all sorts of beasts. She had stepped closer to you, extended a friendly hand for you to shake. She had told you her name, a sweet sounding lullaby that gracefully left her lips.

You smiled warmly at her, feeling instantly at ease with her kindness, her softness. There was something that drew you to her, a force that tugged at you to come a bit closer to take a better look at her. She was soft, gentle. It was like the breath of autumn wind, something cool, something calming. You couldn’t quite place it, but you could tell something about her tempted you, lulled you into a drowsy state. So you smiled warmly at her, shook her hand and told her your name in return, a small hope kindling inside you that this acquaintanceship would lead to something more.

Midnight.

That’s what she was, dim and looming. You quickly grew close with Marcille, after all, she was the first friend you made among the Touden party, what reason did you have not to be close to her? Besides, she was admirable. In your eyes, she shone brightly, a soft light amidst the void of night. Marcille was a reliable member of the party, always looking for things to help out with (though sometimes she would complain first despite doing it regardless), which was admirable. She was smart too, well-versed in all sorts of spells and knowledgeable in different academic topics, which was admirable too. She also was very careful in her own way, taking time to make sure she was neat and tidy, putting the effort into adorning her silken blond locks with braids and bows, ridding her beautiful features of any spec or dirt, which was admirable… in a way… Well, in the way you were able to just admire her grace, her softness. Truly she had this air of softness to her, like she was constantly followed by a halo of light, a soft glow that was calming in its own way.

Marcille was truly admirable like, that you supposed.

But still, it felt like all you could do was admire her. Despite the closeness that developed between you two, there was always this invisible force that kept you apart, a tension that seemed to hinder you from stepping forward. That, or it was distance. She felt far away to you, something you could only be stuck admiring, like painting in a museum or light on the horizon. The allure of her would always draw you near, you'd sit next to her during meal times or secretly place your bedroll closer to hers, you'd walk side by side and chat when exploring, you'd help her brush the back of her hair, but there was this feeling from the pits of your guts, a self-instilled omen of misfortune for you if you continued to allow yourself to be drawn to her.

Well, after all, you saw how she was with Falin. You had nothing against Falin, you could never even be truly mad at either of them, but whenever they were together you felt… sad. It was quite acidic as envy, but it was cold, and dark, and quiet. Of course you knew the pair had been friends since they were young, years far before your addition to the Touden party, a story Marcille always smiled about when she'd tell you; her years at the magic academy were some of her favorite stories to tell you, you're favorites only because Marcille was the one telling them. Suppose it was some form of jealousy, but really it felt more akinned to despair.

Falin and Marcille were close, far closer than you could even imagine you and Marcille could become. When Marcille wasn't with you, she was undoubtedly with Falin — or rather, when Marcille wasn't with Falin, she was with you. It felt that way at least.

But, regardless, you were no evil witch, no lunatic magician. You wouldn't even dare explicitly drive a stake between the friends, as much as you desperately wanted to be in Falin's shoes. All you did was what you had already been doing, keeping yourself at arms reach, keeping a safe distance from you and her softness, her light, her mystery. You watched from afar, as she'd laugh alongside Falin, as she'd grab her hand, as she'd leave you in searing cold.

Setting moon.

That’s what she was as you sense her gaze linger on you as you patch up one of her dresses, an act you did with such care and love, you were practically kissing better the rips in the deep blue fabric. You feel it, practically burning gently on your skin like firefly kisses, how her emerald eyes stay fixed on you, preying on how your fingers move, studying how you brush hair out of your face. You catch her gaze from the corner of your eye, the hazy look on her porcelain skin, the way the firelight illuminated her features. You try your best not to think of it too much, knowing you’d turn bright red at just the thought of her, instead focusing your attention at carefully sewing her dress, focusing on threading the needle to create perfect invisible stitches to make it look brand new, focusing on how Marcille would smile when you handed her the finished product, focusing on the thought of how she’d go on to wear the dress with your needlework on it, a secret love letter etched into the blue fabric—

“You ‘kay?” A deeper female voice calls from beside you, fortunately and quickly breaking you free from your thoughts.

“Wh- Hm?” You hum, still trying to scramble out of the lingering remnant thoughts of Marcille.

“Yer.. turnin’ red.” Namari notes as she bends a bit closer, looking at the pink dust on your cheeks.

“It’s nothing..” You softly say, instinctively sneaking a glance at Marcille before you turn back to your work.

Narami is unimpressed. She catches the shift of your eyes towards the party’s battle mage and she sighs, taking a seat next to you. “Ya thinkin’ ‘bout her again?”

Instantly a small smile breaks on your face at the mention of Marcille, you chuckle, snorting a bit before you turn to meet Namari’s face. “Am I really that obvious?” You ask but there’s no sense of embarrassment or fear, Marcille did always make you feel at ease.

She mirrors your chuckle. “‘Course.” She says plainly. “Though, I doubt anyone else noticed.” She looks up. “Chil might’ve though.”

You follow her gaze to see the half-foot next to Marcille, she seems annoyed and a bit flustered too. You let out a small laugh and resume your work on the dress. “Of course, Chilchuck’s noticed. What doesn’t he?”

Namari snorts. “Bet he was the first to notice… whatever the both of ya got goin’ on with each other.”

Your brows furrow and your hands freeze. “What’s that meant to mean?”

Namari blinks at you, almost shocked at your confusion. “Like how Marcille and ya are… Ya know…” She makes a gesture, her fingers interlocking with each other. “Ya know?”

“What?” You ask, voice a pitch higher, the initial blush on your face quickly returning. “Wh-what is that even meant to mean, Mari?”

The dwarf shrugs. “I mean- well, if ya don’t know then there’s maybe nothin’— I don’t know!” She says defensively. “I’ve just heard Chil complain ‘bout ya two, is all.”

“Complain about what?”

“Says he’s tired’a seein’ ya two keep google’ at each other an—”

You sit up straight, causing her to pause abruptly. You look at her incredulously, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, brows furrowed. “Two of us?” You ask in a loud whisper. “Two of us?”

Marcille feels your warmth next to her, she feels her world begin to shine in radiant light. She turns to you, a little awestruck as she usually is when she looks at you, especially when you smile the way you’re smiling at her right now.

“Finished your dress,” you say sweetly, softly, like the sweet kiss of morning sunlight through the curtain.

She smiles at you like moonbeams across the ocean. “Thank you,” she replies. Your fingers touch when you pass the clothing to her, a featherlight brush against her like fate was teasing you with a small taste of what you craved.

You sit next to each other in silence, the same comfortable silence weighed on by that thick tension. Marcille smooths over the area where you stitched, fingers gingerly tracing over the invisible lines where your thread passed through her dress. You swallow thickly as you watch her, eyes following each gentle stroke of your fingers. You envy the fabric.

“Marcille,” your voice causes her to look up at you, your face catches the firelight like the honeyed rays of the sun.

“Hm?” She hums in response, head tilting to the side in curiosity. “What is it?”

You lean towards her, brows twitching and you try and muster your courage. “Do you… Do you… like me?” you ask timidly.

Oh, Marcille feels like she would die right now.

Her face instantly flushes red and she jolts upright. “What?” She nearly yells. 

You blink, trying terribly hard not to let your heart feel heavy. “Have I… gotten the wrong impression?”

“N-no! That— It’s—” She sighs. Suppose there isn’t really a way to talk out of it now. She opens her mouth to speak but you beat her to it.

“N-Namari told me to ask. She says it’s been pretty obvious.” You explain timidly, your gaze drifting away from her as wring your hands together. “She said… I was pretty obvious about it too…”

“About…?”

“I…” You take a deep breath, “I like you, Marcy.”

And it was like the world had suddenly shattered. That invisible force that held you two apart finally vanished with the air, leaving you two to allow each other to be pulled into one another like magnets.

Marcille’s eyes shine brightly, hopefully even. She leans closer, one hand gripping tightly against her dress, the same one you had so carefully taken the time to fix for her, the same one she had envied. The other hand lingers in the air, fingers twitching as she hesitates one final time, the final remnants of the tension between you two still trying desperately to cling on.

“Th… I— I like you too…”

You smile, the same smile when you first met, so brightly and sweetly. Relief washes over you, like you had just suddenly been doused in ice cold water. She reaches out to you with her free hand, very slowly making its way to cup your cheek.

“I think… I’ve liked you for a long time now,” Marcille says, punctuates it by saying your name so sweetly, like it was devised for her and only her to speak.

Her thumb smooths over your cheek, caressing your face in such a tender manner. You lean into the touch, moving your own hand to go over hers. You two stare at each other for a bit, tunnel visioning only into each other, allowing everything else around you to blur into distant colors.

You lean forwards, closer to her, and you hear a small gasp leave her lips when she realizes what would happen next. You smile fondly at the noise.

Then the sun and the moon finally meet in total eclipse.

[wc-confessions]

Hear me out...Leopardstar x Silverstream doomed yuri

They have feelings for each other but never say anything about it even though they both kind of know about it...Silverstream still likes Graystripe but part of her hopes that by being with him she'll forget about Leopardfur...they both know they want to be together but can't find the words or get past whatever is stopping them...

When Silverstream dies Leopardfur vows to keep her kits safe at any cost, even if she despises their father. She hates Graystripe for killing Whiteclaw-the cat she loved so much he was practically her son-but part of her also hates him for getting to have Silverstream. For being able to just love her without feeling like something invisible is stopping him. For being the cat by her side as she died. Leopardfur hates him for so many reasons and even she can admit that not all of them are justified.

She hopes every night that Silverstream will come to her. She feels like she's being crushed under the weight of Crookedstar's death and her new leadership. Graystripe isn't around anymore to help protect the kits. Tigerstar is so persuasive and he makes so much sense to her.

When the day comes, she can't keep her promise. She only watches as Stonefur is ordered to slaughter the children of the cat she had loved. The children she had sworn to protect. She had one last chance, one more moment to turn back and reclaim the power she had been given when her deputy says he will only answer to her.

Leopardstar is a coward. She tells him to follow Tigerstar's command.

The starry gaze of Silverstream can only watch in horror as her kin dies protecting her kits. Can only watch in betrayal and rage and devastation as the cat she had always wanted orders the death of two innocent apprentices.

She finally appears to Leopardstar, but not how the leader gad hoped. She curses her name, spits that there will be no place for her in StarClan and she should have known she would never be half the leader Crookedstar was. Leopardstar wants to defend herself, make any claim against her words-but she can't. There's nothing she can defend. She knows she's a coward.

Leopardstar spends the rest of her life trying to atone, to make up for the damage she caused, but she never can. She makes Mistyfoot her deputy, she takes in Sasha and her kits, she tries to connect with Feathertail and Stormfur-but no matter what she does the shadow of her past haunts her. The claws of her atrocities have a vice grip on her pelt.

It comes to a head when she's pinned by the fox, and she begs Feathertail to leave her. She wants so badly to be better. To make up for what she did. Even if she dies for good right there, it will be fine as long as Silverstream's kit is okay.

But Feathertail saves her. And she forgives her, at least as much as she can.

That night, Silverstream comes to her again for the first time in moons. She runs her tail over Leopardstar's scarred back and gives a soft, almost affectionate blink. There's an expression on her face Leopardstar can't identify.

"You did well." She whispers. "Rest, Leopardstar. Maybe there will be a place in StarClan for you after all."

sorry for the fanfiction anyways does anyone else see my vision. please say you do people keep calling me insane

.

[chaifootsteps]

saw a post saying something like "you guys are just doing catradora again because you can't handle toxic yaoi/yuri"

and like one, this is kinda saying the quiet part loud to compare these two. like it's admitting Stol1tz is fundamentally toxic and abusive

but more than that, I have no problem with toxic relationships. I'm fine with writers exploring messy relationships and the way hurt people hurt each other. in fact I love that stuff, when it's done well

But that isn't what Stol1tz is, is it? we're supposed to want these two to get together, not in a "it's a car crash but I'm going to bring the popcorn to rubberneck way" but in a "it's so sweet and wholesome that after 25 years the 'childhood friends' got back together! it's true love! thank goodness Stolas taught Blitzo how to love and broke his spirit utterly"

and more than that, Viv can say on X all she wants that they both did wrong, they're both messy individuals etc etc

but the show isn't written like that. it's written to be the story of a poor misunderstood prince who's just a little oblivious to his flaws (after having 5 dozen opportunities to grapple with them) always loved his messy, toxic childhood friend (while giving him no grace for his own trauma whatsoever) who was just tragically too late to have a real romance with him because he was too blind to see what was under his nose all along (I'm hoping you can hear the sarcasm that was implied there)

it isn't framed as "look at these two toxic spike balls bouncing off each other, we won't woobify them, just let the story play out"

it's framed as "look at poor woobie prince who was the real wronged party - if you wanna see him do character development you're gonna having to sit through episode #3433 of 'it's all Blitzo's fault, Stolas is perfect and sensitive, get all the characters into the Blitzo pile on while we insult Striker some more!"

that's not how you write a toxic relationship. that's how you write a creator's pet and the poor victim who's doomed by the narrative to be stuck with him forever

"Look at these two toxic spike balls bouncing off each other, we won't woobify them, just let the story play out" is the argument some Stolitz fans are still holding onto, still insisting is the case. It would make for an interesting story if it were true, but the fact is that Viv's never going to hold Stolas accountable for anything more than being a silly little guy who's bad at reading the room. Blitzo will spend the rest of the story "earning" Stolas and the rest of the time jumping through hoops to prove to an audience that's increasingly out for his blood that he deserves to keep him.

The way Viv views Blitzo, I don't know why she even wants him anywhere near her precious self-insert bird.