The Will to Resist

đŸŸ Bear Blog Entry: *Ballad of the Bloom & the Blade

đŸŸ Bear Blog Entry: Ballad of the Bloom & the Blade

đŸŽ„ Inspired by this absolute gem of a YouTube Short: 👉 https://youtube.com/shorts/8GhBubSOPrA?si=W1hknAR7ct7jyGig

It wasn’t about pride. It wasn’t about proving anything.

She was the hunter— a walking war wound, stitched together by rage and silence.

Villagers cheered her name as a warning, not praise. Kings folded. Men bowed—or bled. She never smiled. Only swung.

But that night? In a smoky tavern tucked between war zones and old ruins
 she saw her.

Rose of Elish. The one with dust on her boots and defiance in her grin. The one who didn’t look away.

And in that one still second, the huntress—who had carved gods and ghosts into the dirt— froze.

She raised her blade.

And Rose?

She raised her eyes.

The blade never landed.

Because for the first time, the hunter didn’t want to kill. She wanted to know. To touch something that didn’t beg or break.

Rose stood tall. No armor. No title. Just raw, unyielding presence.

And when the steel hit the floor?

It wasn’t surrender. It was a beginning.

đŸŽ€ The Bard Would Later Sing


đŸŒ•âš”ïž The Huntress and the Bloom

A Tale Set in Steel, Sweat, and Sapphic Fire

Verse I – The Crimson Wind They called her Feral Gale. A huntress carved from scar and scream— No oath, no collar, no man’s name. Just rage that danced like fire on stream.

Villages burned. Kings fell fast. None could tame her war-born path.

“No mercy ever, no prayer said— She kissed no rings. She kissed the dead.”

Verse II – The Tavern and the Target One night the blade grew restless still, In a tavern warm on forest hill. Eyes like frost, hand on hilt— She watched the hearth, her mind on guilt.

But then—she saw her. A girl in bloom, with thorns beneath. Named Rose, from Elish— With a smile that dared to unsheath.

“She drinks like thunder, sings like ash— But her laugh could turn a sword to glass.”

Verse III – Clash of Fate Steel met steel with lover’s grace. Neither flinched, both chased that taste. The hunter swung— But missed her mark.

Because Rose was laughing in the dark.

Eyes locked. Breaths drawn. Every wound, every war—suddenly gone.

“She dropped her sword before the fight— Because the battlefield had turned to light.”

Verse IV – The Blooming End Now legends say in shadowed woods, Two ghosts dance where no one should. A gale and a bloom, fire and root— One kissed scars, the other soot.

And should you hear a soft duet— A laugh, a growl, a whispered threat


You’re not prey. You’re just interrupting. Leave a coin for the Bard— then keep running.

Someone in the back whispered,

“What are you doing?”

The Bard—half-drunk, all perception—just shrugged.

“Observing.”

💰 And to that Bard? Here’s a coin.

#LoveIsLove #GremlinLore #SapphicSteel #CoinForTheBard #BearBlog #TheHuntressAndTheBloom