#Tale of the Cursed Raven

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Tale of the Cursed Raven -- Author’s Notes & Afterthoughts

The full series:

Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

Miss Raven sketch is by shimmeryspark!

Well, it’s been quite the journey but we’ve finally made it to the end of ✨ Raven’s origin saga ✨. It was such a wild experience to write it all and hear your feedback for each installment. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved creating it... and I hope that it sheds more light on why Raven is the way she is.

Now that the series is done, I’m feeling really nostalgic about it (maybe it’s Mis Raven’s enchanted inks working their magic on me)💦 so I wanted to relive the memories a little, and share some of the feelings, insights, and thoughts I had before, during, and after writing the saga.

If you’re interested in reading that, it’ll all be below the cut for your convenience.

“May those who accept their fate be granted happiness, may those who defy their fate be granted glory.” — Edel, Princess Tutu (2002)

The Origins

I’ve always loved stories—more specifically, fairy tales. When I was little, they’d always be on my mind. Actually, they still are to this very day. If I wasn’t reading them, I’d be watching them or thinking about them, making theories and spinning stories of my own.

I loved the fantastical elements, the whimsy of magic and talking animals, the witches and the monsters, the royals and the warriors that protected them... I loved it all. That childhood love of fairy tales followed me into adolescence and adulthood. That’s really where this all began.

Of course, I gravitated towards media that prominently featured elements of, or borrowed from, fairy tales. This would lead me to the rabbit hole that is Twisted Wonderland 😷 (you all knew this was coming). Due to the blank slate nature of the game’s protagonist, Yuu, TWST was ripe for an OC community to crop up.

I saw a lot of unique characters in the fandom, so I wanted to create a character too. However, no matter how hard I tried, I struggled to develop a “Yuu” that I was satisfied with. At times, I even felt uncomfortable because I felt I was either putting too much of myself into “Yuu”, or not enough. It was then that I realized I would have much more fun making a character based on a preexisting story. A theme, a concept—they’d all be pre-set for me, and I could let my imagination run wild from those.

I didn’t want to adapt a character from a Disney movie (say, the Mad Hatter or King Triton). While I had seen many cool interpretations made by other people, I didn’t want to limit myself to personalities and character traits that were already determined by the movies or stories for me. I started looking into fairy tales themselves, looking for a character or a concept vague enough for me to base my OC on—and I found it in the wording of a riddle from Alice in Wonderland.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

It captured the spirit of whimsy I wanted to evoke in the OC. Ah, but there's also an underlying sadness and dread to her character. It's mostly Alice in Wonderland with a whisper of Edgar Allen Poe.

And thus, Raven was born.

Tsunderes — but why???

At first glance, you might look at Raven and label her personality as “tsundere”. It’s a popular trope in Japanese media where a character that is initially cold and harsh shows or develops a warm, friendlier side over time. One problem that I’ve always had with the tsundere archetype is that the media that employ it rarely, if ever, explain the reasoning for why a character is a tsundere. More often than not, tsunderes are used to comedic effect nowadays, with the tsundere characters acting violent towards their supposed love interests—and that’s something that has never really sat well with me. I don’t think that’s necessarily good writing, but I won’t fault the people who do enjoy that kind of thing. I personally prefer it when we get to know the characters and the reasoning behind their personalities and decisions more. Character-driven storytelling is my jam.

Familiar of Zero’s Louise lacks the magical power to back up her noble lineage, and she has an inferiority complex as a result of that. Toradora’s Taiga has a complex family situation which has left her distrustful of others. When writing Raven, I didn’t want her to fall into the trap of “no explanation” tsundere. I wanted to outline a clear reason for why her personality is “hot and cold”, like Louise and Taiga. Even more than that, I wanted Raven’s reason to line up with the concepts of “freedom” and “expression” that tie with her bird and storytelling motifs.

And so, her story started taking shape in my head. (If you want to read more specifics on my thought process, I’d check out this post. I also talk more about the concepts behind her there.)

Her Magic

I wanted to tie in her personality and philosophy into her unique magic too. After all, it's a spell that defines who she is as an individual. In the beginning, Raven was excited about the prospect of writing, as it would help her comes to understand others--however, she struggles to come to grips with their emotions and keeps holding herself at a distance. Only when she empathizes with her characters and with the people around her does her unique magic come into fruition. With it, she can see into others' hearts and rewrite their feelings--that is, if her willpower and coaxing can convince them to.

I didn't want Raven to be a particularly gifted magic user; she's someone that had to work hard to come into her own. I think of her humanoid form as something still awkward and developing, which sometimes interferes with her spellcasting. What really makes Raven shine is her determination, and the strong imagination that pairs with it. All she truly lacks is the ambition and the confidence, things that I hoped would be honed at Night Raven College.

The Characters for the Series

Initially, I wanted to feature a much larger cast of characters. At some point, I was ambitious enough to think I could somehow include every NRC student in the plot... but thank goodness I realized that just wasn’t feasible. I saw the narrative mess that happened whenever a creative piece tried to get too many characters involved. It just made it hard to keep track of and care about anyone on an individual level. Sometimes, it also distracted from the central themes and conflict. Now, that’s not to say that Raven has never canonically engaged with other characters (because she definitely has)! It’s just that those interactions aren’t as important to this story, so I left them out of it.

In hindsight, I’m so glad that I kept the core cast (up to a certain point) small. That way, I could dedicate more of my time writing each of their individual thoughts and emotions. Raven remains the main character throughout, while Rook, Crowley, Jade, and, to some extent, Azul, Floyd, and Octa A, are secondary characters. Idia, Vil, Epel, the Fates, etc., are very much tertiary characters that showed up a few times total 😂 but they all played their parts and still contributed the overall story.

A character that was introduced in part 6 was the timid but well-meaning Octavinelle A-kun (whose name is Kon, like konbu, or Japense kelp). He was actually included as a gag character because I couldn’t think of someone from the main cast for the role he ended up filling. I unintentionally got attached to Kon and decided to bring him back later in the story, because I guess I like the irony of a mob character that lacks eyes having more screen time than two Dorm Leaders (Vil and Idia). I think the inclusion of Kon also really helped the themes of the story, because, in a meta way, he’s like Raven. He’s a “background character” who ended up having time in the spotlight (and even earned himself a small but dedicated fan following), which proves that it’s possible for Raven, who also sees herself as a “background character”, to ascend and become a “main character”.

Speaking of semi-original characters, I also had fun doing my interpretation of the Fates in part 10. I doubt that’s what they’re like in canon and watch TWST prove me wrong, but it was super fun to write regardless of that. I think my favorite thing about them was how they bicker when they’re out of the public eye, but it was also interesting to come up with their idol poses and phrases.

The cast noticeably expands around part 15, and that was a very purposeful move on my end. Raven has had her revelation then, as well as a stronger understanding of how her unique magic works. Art that point, the story shifts from Raven being on the outside looking in to the characters witnessing her tale unfold. It's to indicate that Raven has finally properly begun integrating herself with the stories that she has always isolated herself from. Characters that have previously had smaller roles before (Vil, Idia, Azul) return for a reprise and to add their own context to what's happening now, and the characters never previously mentioned (Lilia, Riddle, Kalim, Leona) give their perspectives as people who had no direct involvement. I wanted to show the shades of familiarity that they have with what Raven's been up to on her lonesome, and how these different kinds of relationships and points of view are all important when looking at a story.

I was very excited to introduce the Enchantress (Estella) as an onlooker that has a tenacious history with Lilia; she's an original character I've been working on and hiding in the shadows until her first appearance late in this saga. Estella is a very complex person, whom I would describe as a mix of the Enchantress (Beauty and the Beast), Giselle (in both Enchanted and Disenchanted), Isabela (Encanto), Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Mother Gothel (Tangled) and Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2). She gives... "tough love", but often acts in morally self-righteous and self-important ways, believing that it is for the "own good" of the people she becomes entangled with. Sadly, I was not able to go into her own background and motives, but someday I'd really like to!

The Plot of the Series

There’s a lot that you don’t see that goes into writing. I went through several iterations of Tale of the Cursed Raven, especially with the rising action and climax. You should see my writing drafts--there’s no rhyme or reason to them! You might see some bullet points to show a sequence of events, but the rest of the document is just random lines or ideas I think would “sound cool” that I just scribbled down while on the bus or something.

When I write a story, I usually know how I want things to begin and how I want them to end, and I have trouble filling in everything that’s in between. I usually took large chunks of time between the release of each installment to review information from the previous part and make sure the continuity carried over to the part I was currently writing.

It was also common for me to write, rewrite, and rewrite the parts again several times over before I actually put it to the public. Sometimes I would almost be done with an installment, and I’d delete it all and start over because I thought of something much better. I’d be irritated with myself in the moment for wasting all that time and hard work, but I think it ended up working out.

sadibasudbad Okay, I want to talk about some of the plot points that I scrapped, because some of them were actually interesting... They just took the story nowhere or caused issues with other things I had planned, so I had to drop them 😅

After Jade’s betrayal is revealed in part 3, I was going to have Raven become Azul’s business rival. Not in the restaurant sense, but more like she would offer similar “wish fulfillment” services as Azul, mostly because she needs something to do to keep herself positive. Her services were going to be called “Fairy Godmothering” and involved sending wishes on slips of paper in little black boxes she placed all over campus. However, she’d probably need a lot of help or strong magic to make that happen, neither of which really applies to her. I guess the tradeoff would have been that Azul offers more but asks for a price, whereas Raven offers less but works for free. She’d write stories as kind of a “road map” or “plan” for how she would personally fulfill her a wish, as opposed to Azul’s contracts, and which required a mutual agreement to the terms. I also didn’t know where to take the story after this point was introduced, so it had to go.

Part 8 was originally going to open with Raven and Riddle having a tea party and catching up. Floyd was going to emerge from some rose bushes with Cater and Trey chasing after him 😂 and Floyd was going to kidnap Raven from there for the boat scene with Jade. Like I mentioned before, I decided to cut this out to keep the number of characters the story had relatively short. (Plus, I guess Floyd would have had to run a shorter distance to the lake if Raven was already in the forest area than if she were all the way in Heartslabyul?)

There was a large hiatus between part 10 and part 11, because a lot of rewrites had to happen for the latter half of the series. Part 11 in particular went through several different versions—one of which would involve Prince Rielle visiting NRC for a magift game and knocking Raven out cold with the frisbee. Because Raven didn’t remember the face of the “prince” that saved her from drowning when she was a bird, I was going to have her mistake Rielle as that “prince” (similar to how Eric mistook Ursula/Vanessa for Ariel). Djsbsjsbshs But I already took a huge chance by writing my interpretation of the Fates, so I didn’t want to also do my interpretation of Rielle in case TWST gives us more details about him later. Rielle is based on a Disney princess, so I thought it was more likely that he got more details revealed about him over of the Fates, and I didn’t want to make my series too reliant on headcanons or unconfirmed information about a character we haven’t even seen yet.

Finally (and this is the biggest change of all), parts 10 through 20 were originally going to be heavily focused on action and adventure. Raven was going leave NRC in search of the Enchantress (who originally cursed the Storyteller several years go) and ask her to lift the curse, and the Enchantress was going to send her on a series of heroic quests to prove that she is “worthy”. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought the scale was too grand 💦 At the end of the day, Raven is just a bird trying to be a normal human girl... and I wanted her development to be more of a traditional coming of age story instead of a literal hero’s journey where she confronts dragons and saves villages. Something more down-to-earth makes her more relatable, so I went with that route instead of the action-adventure one.

I don’t know if you noticed, but the saga happens alongside the events of the main story (as some main story events, such as Overblots, are referenced). The last 5ish parts happen around the transition from the Ignihyde arc to the Diasomnia arc, sooo... :)) You can think what you like about whether Raven’s happy ending is reality or a dream conjured up by Malleus~

I argued with myself a lot while writing the series, especially about the ending. I had a lot of my friends (and readers, too) telling me “you’d better not kill Raven” and “Raven and Jade should kiss and make up/date each other at the end” (some of which came true, some of which didn’t). I was so conflicted at the time because while I never intended to kill Raven, it was clear that my audience was expecting a perfect “happily ever after”... and I didn’t know if such a conclusion would fit the overall tone of the series. I think what I ended up doing was satisfactory, though. It’s happy, but not overly so, and it keeps the door open for future shenanigans in a light-hearted and hopeful way. I think leaving it open-ended like this suits the theme of the saga and Miss Raven's struggle to find her freedom.

Raven’s Growth and Development

Raven has come so far.

The saga here is written kind of like “oh, this is her main story”, but it’s meant to be supplemented by “vignettes” and “event stories” (ie all the side content of Raven which fleshes out her relationships with other characters). The idea is that all her experiences at NRC helped her to develop her own sense of self, and granted her the confidence to fly in the face of her own fate, which she was once so hopeless about. When I look back on the last few years, I’m amazed at how much of it there is, whether produced by myself, by friends, or by fans. It’s really humbling that I get to share this journey with you all.

Raven used to be scared and shy, a timid bird with little to no understanding of the world, or of the creatures in it. Then she picked up a quill, ink, and paper—and a whole new world opened up to her. Her story is one of how freedom of self expression and creative works can connect us not only with others, but with ourselves. Because of that, Raven was able to grow and become a much more mature person (with the support of her friends and family, of course)!

Just because the saga is over doesn’t mean Raven is suddenly perfect, though. She still very much struggles to be emotionally expressive and honest with her feelings of affection (since she has gone so long burying those), so she’s still got a long way to go in that regard 💦 She also has some lingering self-esteem issues that she’s got to work on. Raven’s always changing...! Always willing to learn! Jade and Rook, please help her—

When people read Tale of the Cursed Raven, I don’t want them to “just see it as a love story” or “TWST OC x TWST Boy” fanfiction 💦 because the focus isn’t just on romance, but on Raven discovering herself, and her voice, in a world that once confused and scared her. It’s not just a story about finding love, it’s also about a girl growing up, gaining confidence, finding new family and friends to support her... It’s a lot of things, and I feel that it’s doing the saga a disservice by calling it just a love story.

I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but while Raven is not meant to be a self-insert character, I feel that her struggles are very relatable and I hope that you, too, can see some part of yourself in her and her journey. A lot of the writing process involved me analyzing and coming to terms with difficult feelings, particularly ones of self-loathing, self-acceptance, coming to terms with emotions, and trying to find one’s place in a world that can be confusing and scary to navigate. I feel that writing Raven’s tale was able to help me through those tough times in my life. For that reason, this saga will always hold a lot of sentimental value to me.

So... What’s next?

There were originally plans for me to make a follow up/spin-off series where Octa A/Kon was the main character. The theme of that series was “even the unnoticed and ordinary can be noticed and extraordinary!” It was going to focus on Kon and his mob student friends (one from each dormitory), along with their struggles of being “noticed” (as they are often just one face in a sea of mob students) and “fitting in” with their respective dorm’s ideals. I think it would have been a series that resonated a lot with introverts and people who see themselves as “less than” others or as “not fitting in” with others’ expectations. I might still do this, but it would probably be another huge project that would take months of planning and revision.

Another idea I had was to write a series of stories that are just flashbacks of Raven’s life prior to Night Raven College, whether as a bird or whether as the Storyteller’s apprentice. I also considered writing in-depth about how the Storyteller was originally cursed, and about the Enchantress responsible for it. I would like to get into her backstory and her motivations for spinning the Storyteller’s curse to begin with. (Maybe I’ll do those as blog anniversary or follower milestone specials?) Some friends of mine also jokingly suggested I write a sequel series focused on Raven and her relationship with L*ONA 🤢 dfhlbahefvqoeuq Lots of ideas, lots of possibilities!

As for Raven, she’s definitely not going away just because her origin saga is done. She’s still the beloved poster child of this blog, so of course I want to continue writing about her! It’s just that she’ll be a little freer to speak her mind now that her curse has been lifted. After all, "the end" is just "the beginning" of another story!

I kind of feel like a proud parent, seeing my bird daughter growing up, making friends, finding love, and developing her own sense of agency and independence 😭 I’m excited to see where this next chapter of Raven’s life takes us.

Before I sign off, I’d like to thank you, dear readers, for following Miss Raven’s story until the very end. None of this would be possible without you!

[thedriftingjellyfish]

A loveletter to @raven-at-the-writing-desk and the Tale of the Cursed Raven...

--

The Tale of the Cursed Raven is... a story, no. It is a journey of discovering one's self and finding what makes one human, focusing on the internal conflicts and revelations that come with confronting fate, desires, and the complexity of what being "alive" truly means to yourself.

Miss Raven, our most unfortunate storyteller, trapped within a curse not of her own making, caged into a role to forever be an onlooker to the story. Never able to chart her own path, going only forward on a predetermined road, yet always longing for the day when she can say the three cursed words, the eight cursed letters.

After all, a storyteller's existence is to look, to observe with a quiet ache, bearing witness to all that their characters bring, weaving them into stories that will endure through time — but never can they be involved or be apart of the fantasies they create.

--

"To be a storyteller is to shoulder the solemn duty of igniting countless beginnings, yet find oneself the final chapter to none."

That is what many would believe to be the role of a storyteller — yet, this tale challenges this belief. Hell, It even tries to go against it.

Because despite her efforts to change the tragic fate that awaits her, she finds herself constantly hindered by the forces beyond her control...

From the moment she's confronted with the curse that has taken away any chance of happiness from her, she is consumed with indignation.

How could anyone simply accept such an ending that does not allow oneself to be happy?

Why do the forces of this world insist that she is destined to fade away? To dissolve into nothingness, leaving behind nothing but a final message and a fading memory?

--

In the beginning of her story, Raven seems to be painfully resigned to the idea that her life will always end in a tragedy, with no happily ever after in sight. The curse is always there, lurking in the background; it is what influences most of her actions. But as much as she has come to terms with the futility of her situation, a part of her still cannot bring herself to surrender fully. That part of her always questions herself, always asking the "what ifs?".

Even though the story seemed to always "correct" itself, the fact that there even was an opportunity to stray from the path meant to that little part of her, that... the story was never truly set in stone.

That this curse, however powerful it may be, was not an invincible force, fate could be changed.

There was still room for defiance.

To make a difference choice, a rebellion of sorts.

A kind that only the sheer determination of the human spirit could evoke. This curse will not define all that she is.

She will make sure of it.

"This story is mine and mine alone." /

"If I cannot be free, then at least I can dream of it until the very end. This is my act of defiance..."/

"(the) Proof of my existence."

--

"I will complete this story."

"I will write my own happy ending."

It is this determination that pushes her forward, her belief, as one would put it. With each step she takes stroke of her quill, what once seemed like an inescapable void that signalled her end seemed more like a beginning. That hidden path once engulfed in darkness, now glimmered with the faintest trace of light — one with endless possibilities, now hers to explore; And even after she steps off this path onto another, the story goes on, for in every ending, there lies the potential for a new beginning. It is a cycle that repeats, as long as this tale lives on in those who dare to dream, to defy, and to hope.

--

There are 3 things that I know.

To be human is to live with the weight of despair.

To be human is to face the fear of failure;

But also,

To be human is to hope for the possibility of a better future.

They define our resilience and our ability to continue moving forward, even through impossible odds. They are simply part of what makes us human. We all have the capacity to dream, to hope for a better tomorrow, and to persist through the horrors of it all.

--

To Miss Raven, you have been a role model to many, having gone through many trials and tribulations, coming out a changed bird. You've ended the story the way you've always wanted.

So set forth! On a path towards that endless blue sky that's filled with endless posibilities with everyone! May the radiance of hope illuminate your path ever brighter.

And with that, to you I give my congratulations, wishing you and Jade the very best in this new chapter of your story!

[snobwhimsicality]

crk LET ME IN LET ME IN LET ME IN LEY M

[lookslikethatsallthetimewehave]

Top 10 favorite Poptropica villains, and explain why

Warning: This list is subject to change.

Warning again: My choices and reasons might be stupid XD

I'm going in order of their appearance.

Uh… uh…

Dr. Hare 

Dr. Hare may be overrated, but he's still a funny character. His design is cute, his gimmick is funny, and he's actually threatening. 

Director D 

A smart, calculating villain with a… not threatening goal. Idk why, but I think that's funny. Also I like how serious he is, despite how absurd his goal is. I like how he's a neat freak.

Mordred/Binary Bard 

I think Binary Bard is the first Poptropica villain to have a serious backstory, and it's pretty good. He's an interesting villain. I don't have much else to say.

Daphne Dreadnaught 

I honestly have no idea WHY, since she wasn't on the main island, and she didn't have much screen presence. 

I like her design, and her gimmick. And her name. Idk, I can't explain this one, she barely appeared, it's so stupid XD She's hot. That too. I'm grasping at straws, idc

Cactus von Garlic 

A very funny villain. I like his vibe. And he has his own movie series. Can you name any other Poptropica villain with their own movie series? I don't think so.

It's also funny that in-universe, he's not considered a villain by the general population, because the general population probably hates vampires too. 

Ringmaster Raven 

Cool villain backstory, cool design, cool gimmick. Also… kind of a scary villain. Which is cool.

Myron Van Buren 

Probably the most messed up villain in Poptropica, because unlike other villains who only go after the player to complete their goals, um… the murder is his goal 😅 What is going on in his brain…

Also, he's really funny. I like how sophisticated and genuinely polite he is, while also being a complete lunatic.

Octavian 

He's got an interesting character. To say the least. His goal actually comes from a place of good instead of evil, although his “the ends justify the means” mentality is what makes him evil. He and Cactus von Garlic can go make out on a beach somewhere /hj

Red Baroness/The Baron

A funny villain with a personal relationship to one of the main characters of the game, which is very interesting. And a pet monkey 🐒 And is sarcastic and likes puns. 

Rumpelstiltskin 

The best (and arguably only good) part of his island. Nuff said. Well… Cinderella's transformation was pretty funny. That's it.

Cool design, and… whatnot. Idk.

Edit:

[passionforfic]

Entangled with the Fae Series by Tessonja Odette

I love fairy tale retellings. I love romance and fantasy. This series has the perfect mix of the elements that catch my attention. I devoured these stories and I'm looking forward to reading the others.

These retelling give each fairy tale a twist that turns them into new stories. The author cleverly uses the elements of those Disney versions of these stories and incorporates them into the story. They become symbols of the fairy tale without compromising the story. I also love how the characters have their cameos in other stories. I recommend reading them in order so you don't get spoilers because you will meet the main characters in previous stories.

Here is the order and the fairy tale they retell:

Curse of the Wolf King - Beauty and the Beast

Heart of the Raven Prince - Cinderella

Kiss of the Selkie - The Little Mermaid

A Taste of Poison - Snow White

A Dream So Wicked - Sleeping Beauty

Warning: This books are not for young readers. I would say that people 18 years old or older can read them.

[emp-roar]

"MY ARMY SETTLED IN THE VALLEY of Barovia and took power over the people in the name of a just god, but with none of a god's grace or justice." -- Tome of Strahd

"Raven's Inquisition" is a Curse of Strahd prequel campaign I am currently playing in where we get to explore setting elements and character relations that otherwise could not have been explored in the canon module. The DM @emp-roar (me) is constructing the campaign as an adaptation of the "I, Strahd" novel, where Barovia has yet been established, Strahd is still human, and the players are all inquisitors overtaking the Tsolenka Valley under the von Zarovich crest and the banner of the Morninglord.

Hi all! It has been a while since I've been on the internet, but I have since graduated and pursuing a career in animation! I was gifted the I,Strahd book during the middle of the pandemic and had been itching to run a prequel campaign based on an adapted take of I, Strahd, exploring elements that made Barovia and ultimately, Strahd, the way it became.

Hope you like the Ravenloft cast who the party had met. (Unironically this looks like a dating sim.)

Additionally the breakdown of Sergei's Vestments can be found in my player's @tateringss arsenal.

Impera Brigade insignia credit goes to ChiRHOKin I adored the shape of his alternative Barovia flag.

Strahd Portrait belongs to WOTC and the overall design and style was heavily inspired by Thronebreaker a Witcher's Tale!

And lastly! SOL INVICTUS!

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part III)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: 18+, smut, canon typical violence, cursing, drinking  

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood face the consequences of Benjicot’s decision. 

word count: 4.7k 

author note: I’m having so much fun writing this little series. I’ve decided that there will be four or five parts in total, so look out for the next part soon. Happy reading!

part I can be found here. part II can be found here. part iv can be found here.

You were going to kill Benjicot Blackwood. 

That was the first thought you had after waking in an unfamiliar room with a splitting headache. You could forgive him for knocking you unconscious the first time. But for a second? Absolutely not.

The room you had been left in was uncomfortably warm. The dying fire in the hearth indicated that you had likely been here for hours. Groaning, you pushed yourself up from the bed you had been tucked into. Your dress clung to you like a second skin, and a quick brush of your fingers through your hair revealed knots and tangles. 

Oh yes, you were going to kill that Blackwood heir as soon as you got your hands on him. 

Making your way to the wall of windows on the right side of the room, your stomach sank. Dusk was settling in. You had been gone from Stone Hedge all day, and there no chance your absence had gone unnoticed. Your father would be furious.  

Glancing around the courtyard beneath the windows, you were not entirely shocked to find yourself at Raventree Hall. You had never visited the keep in person, but you had heard tales of the ancient stone walls adorned with climbing moss. From your vantage point, you could just make out the top of the colossal, dead weirwood tree in the godswood. Already ravens were gathering to roost for the night. 

You had to find Benjicot. Had to find him and ask him what in the Seven Hells possessed him to bring you here of all places. A Bracken behind enemy lines. 

You heard the lock at the door unlatch. Unsure if friend or foe approached, you glanced to your left and right but found no weapon. The best you could find was a candleholder. Grabbing it, you pressed yourself against the wall furthest from the door. Raising the makeshift weapon, you readied yourself to throw. 

A tall woman with long, dark hair and an archer’s bow attached to her back entered. When she spotted you, candleholder raised to strike, she lifted her eyebrows and huffed out a laugh.

“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself.” 

There was no doubt in who she could be. 

Alysanne Blackwood. Sister to Lord Samwell Blackwood. Aunt to Benjicot Blackwood. And Black Aly to all those who would dare cross her bow. 

With shaking hands, you returned the candleholder to its proper place. Dipping into a small curtsy, you said, “Lady Blackwood, I am—”

“I know who you are.” Alysanne said, cutting you off. She paused to look at you, eyes glancing up and down, taking in your soiled dress and tangled hair. You tried desperately not to fidget under her scrutiny. 

But then her face broke into a smile. You could see the family resemblance easily enough. Although not nearly as feral, Alysanne’s smile had the same vicious edge as Benjicot’s. “So, you are the Bracken who has stolen my dear nephew’s heart.”

You did not know how to respond. Any thought you might have had left your head under Alysanne’s gaze and her accusation. Seeing the panicked look on your face, she laughed again and gestured to the seats before the fire. “Come now, little Bracken. Sit with me. We women folk have much to discuss.”

You left the comfort of the wall and did as she bid. You had no idea what Alysanne wanted to discuss. Her mood seemed relatively pleasant, all things considered. But the Blackwoods were notorious for their quick tempers and could switch at a moment’s notice. 

Alysanne took the bow off her back, leaning it against the hearth but still within her reach. You tried to calm your racing heart, but your palms were starting to sweat. You did not believe that Alysanne would harm you, at least not physically. But Benjicot’s absence, even if only temporary, set you on high alert. 

You could not help but ask,“Where is Benji—I mean, where is Lord Blackwood?”

Alysanne seemed amused by your question. Leaning back in her chair, she regarded you before answering, “My nephew has been otherwise detained.”

Her tone and mocking smile struck a nerve. You could feel your own temper begin to flare. And you could tell that Alysanne was taking pleasure in your apparent discomfort, watching you try to get a grip on your emotions. You should not have been surprised. Nothing brought a Blackwood more joy than torturing a Bracken. 

You tried for diplomacy. “Lady Blackwood, please—”

“Call me Aly, little Bracken.” She said, waving her hand at your formalities. “I think we need wine for this conversation.” 

What conversation? You were not sure your stomach could handle alcohol, but you were not stupid enough to refuse. 

With a full glass in hand, you watched Alysanne—Aly—take a deep drink. Setting the goblet down, she turned to you, a serious look in her eyes, and asked, “So, tell me, has my nephew fucked you yet?”

You choked on your wine.

Laughing, Aly gave you a thump on the back to help clear your airway. “You know, I’ve never met a Bracken with such delightful expressions.”

Finding your voice, you managed, “I’m happy I could be such a source of entertainment for you.” 

Aly picked up her wine again and smiled. Her gaze softening as she said, “I can see why he likes you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the praise. You were desperate to know what Benjicot said about you to his family, but you had a feeling that Aly would not betray his confidence. The two might be aunt and nephew, but they were only a handful of years apart in age. Closer to a sister and brother. 

Taking another sip of wine, Aly’s face grew serious once again.“My question may have been crude, but I did not ask it to embarrass you. I need to know before I can advise my brother on how to proceed.” 

You swallowed down the wine that threatened to return back up. “How to proceed?”

Running a hand through her dark curls, Aly took a beat before responding. “Earlier today, a host of Bracken men showed up to Raventree Hall under a white flag and claimed that the Blackwoods had taken Lord Amos Bracken’s only daughter. My brother laughed in their faces and sent them away.” 

Aly took another deep drink of wine before continuing. “Not two hours later, Benjicot turns up with you in his arms, spinning a tale about finding you in the woods out cold, and seeing as how Raventree Hall was closer, decided to bring you here to see our maester.”

Wine forgotten, Aly leveled a hard look at you. “Of course, the maester did not find anything to explain your condition, except for a peculiar bump on the back of your head. If I didn’t know better, the bump looked like it came from the hilt of a sword or dagger. Most curious.”

You could not look at Aly, for you knew that your face would reveal too much. Would reveal that Benjicot lied. 

“And then there are, of course, the injuries on your neck.”

Your hand lifted to touch your neck, almost as if it was detached from the rest of your body. Your throat felt parched as you asked, “Other injuries?”

Aly smirked and leaned closer to you. “Oh yes. You seem to have some bruising on the sides of your neck. Almost looks like bite marks.” 

You felt yourself pale, the wine definitely threatening to make a reappearance. You wanted to sink into your chair, make yourself as small as possible. 

Aly knew that she had you. “So, I ask again, did my nephew fuck you? Did he take advantage—”

“No!” The denial was out of your mouth before you could think. No matter how angry you were with him, you refused to let anyone believe the worst about Benjicot. You would suffer any consequences, go to any lengths, to protect him and his honor. 

Stealing yourself as best you could to hold Aly’s eyes, you vowed, “I remain a maiden.” 

Aly held your gaze for a long moment, searching your eyes for any hint of deception. Waiting to see if you would crack under pressure. Finally, she nodded and let loose a deep sigh. “I did not think Benjicot capable of forcing a woman, but I had to ask. As to whether your maidenhead remains intact, I shall believe you, little Bracken. For now.”

You slumped back into the chair, suddenly exhausted. You felt as if you had just survived a great battle. And maybe you had. Black Aly was almost as notorious as her nephew. To do battle against them, whether by wit or sword, was to take your fate into your own hands.

But the war was not yet won. 

You hesitated to ask but you had to know, “How will you advise Lord Samwell?” 

Aly’s attention had turned to the dying fire, sipping her wine in thought. “Because you remain a maiden, the easy solution is to return you to Stone Hedge at first light before wind gets back to Bracken that you’re here.”

Your heart sank at her words. The moment you returned to Stone Hedge would be the moment you lost what little freedom your father had granted you. No longer would you be allowed to wander the grounds unaccompanied. No longer would you be able to steal away onto Blackwood lands in the hopes of seeing Benjicot. 

Worse still, you were of marriageable age and had been for some time. You were fortunate that your father had not betrothed you as soon as your courses started. But with war on the horizon, you knew your father would not hesitate to betroth you now should the right opportunity present itself.

Sighing again, Aly leaned back in her chair to match your relaxed posture. “But I have a strong feeling that my nephew, in all of his infinite wisdom, will oppose such a plan.” Glancing at you, she said, “He can be quite stubborn when he wants to be.”

You smiled to yourself, picturing the look on Benjicot’s face when he did not immediately get his way. “Yes, he is.”

Without warning, Aly stood up from her chair, causing you to scramble to your feet in response. “I’ll have dinner brought to you soon.” 

Straightening to your full height, spine locked, you asked, “Am I to be a prisoner, Aly?”

You watched Aly quickly mask the look of surprise on her face at your boldness. If you did not know any better, you would say she almost looked impressed. 

Turning her back to you and walking toward the door, she called out, “Not a prisoner yet, little Bracken. But best stay here for your own protection. Not all Blackwoods will treat you as kindly as my nephew.” 

With that, Black Aly opened the door and left. You sank back into your chair when you heard the lock latch close. 

Despite Aly’s assurances, you had never felt more trapped in your life. Dinner had come and gone, and there was still no word from Benjicot. You could feel your frustration and fear rise with each passing hour. 

You wanted to know what was happening. Were the Blackwoods sending word to your father? Were you going to be returned home? Were the Blackwoods going to forbid Benjicot from ever seeing you again? Would a war be fought over this? The Blackwoods and Brackens had fought each other over much less. 

All you could do was sit and think and dwell on the unknowns. You had explored every inch of the chambers, finding no books or papers to keep your mind occupied. Every second you spent in this godsdamn room drove you closer to a breaking point. 

When you heard the lock at the door begin to unlatch again, you sprung into action. You could not be alone in this room for a moment longer. Hiding on the other side of the door, you waited until the person entered your chambers, determined to fight your way out if necessary. 

You did not pause to consider whether this was a wise choice. You had no weapons nor training, but you did not care. You were a Bracken with your back against the wall. And your instinct was telling you to fight. 

So, when the door finally opened and a man entered your chambers, you acted. Leaping onto his back, you let out a scream, punching and kicking and clawing at anything you could get your hands on. The man cursed and tried to get a grip on you, but you squirmed out of his reach. 

Only when you broke skin and felt blood beneath your fingernails did you pause long enough to notice whom you had attacked. Dark, messy hair. A strong, powerful build. A familiar scent. 

Grasping your arms and removing them from his neck, Benjicot Blackwood turned to face you. And even though his face and hands were decorated with blood from your scratches, he looked at you like you were the most wonderful creature in all of Westeros. 

“Have you had your fill yet, my lady?” 

You did not know whether to kiss him or kill him. Perhaps both. And maybe in that order. 

Launching yourself into his arms, you kissed Benjicot with everything you had. His lips were full and warm, molding against yours instantly. With one hand splayed on your back and the other gripping your waist, he pulled you against him, flushing your bodies together until you could not tell where one of you began and the other ended. 

And when you tugged at his hair, he moaned into your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation. His bite was not hard enough to draw blood, but you felt your core tighten in response. You whimpered, deepening the kiss as you slid your tongue against his. But when he moved his hand to your breast, gliding his touch over your pebbled nipple, you pulled back. 

Panting heavily, you detached yourself from his arms and put space in between you. Benjicot’s cheeks were flushed and his breathing was as uneven as yours. You could see a question begin to form in his gaze, but he does not ask it, waiting instead for you to proceed. 

As soon as you got your breathing under control, you said, “We need to talk."

Benjicot nodded in agreement, moving to the chairs that you and Aly had occupied earlier. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” 

When you settled across from him, you could feel the tension returning to your body. You did not know where the two of you stood, not really. You had shared kisses and pleasure, spoken words of love and devotion, but Benjicot had left you alone and in the dark—literally and metaphorically. You did not know what conversations had taken place or decisions made while you were confined to these chambers. And that thought—that he had not cared enough to even leave note—was enough to have your anger returning in full force. 

“What in the Seven Hells were you thinking bringing me here?” You snapped. 

Benjicot raised a brow at your harsh words, but responded evenly, “I recognized the voices we heard in the woods as Blackwood men. There was no explanation we could provide to them that would make sense and preserve your honor. Better for them to believe that I happened upon an unconscious, injured Bracken.” 

“Did you have to knock me unconscious? I could have pretended to have sprained my ankle!”

Shooting you a look of disbelief, Benjicot said, not unkindly, “My lady, you are many things. But a good liar is not one of them.”

You were going to strangle him. 

Benjicot smirked at your expression. “I love when you get that violent look on your face.” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his declaration. And when you did not otherwise respond, Benjicot relented, expression growing serious. “I did not mean to leave you alone all day. When we returned, and I found out that your father was looking for you, I had to explain everything to my father and aunt.”

You shot him a look of horror. “Everything?”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, my lady, I told them everything. Told them how warm and wet your cunt felt against my—”

“Benjicot Blackwood!” You shrieked, shoving into his chest. “Have you lost your mind?”

He could not help but laugh. “If I have lost my mind, it is only because you occupy all my thoughts.” 

You felt a sliver of your anger melt away at his sweet words. “Fine, I am a terrible liar. That still does not explain why you decided to bring me here. You could have returned me to Stone Hedge.”

Benjicot’s expression, which had been light and open, shuddered closed. You watched him get a far off look on his face. You tried to catch his eyes, but he avoided your gaze. “Do you wish for that? To return to Stone Hedge?”

Your heart squeezed at his questions. For you knew that if you said yes, he would return you to your home. He may be Bloody Ben to the world, ruthless fighter who took no prisoners, but to you, he was kind and loving and protective. He would respect your wishes, even if that meant being away from him. 

Grabbing his hand, you traced his fingers, lingering your touch over the marks you had left behind. “I wish to be wherever you are.”

Benjicot took your hand in his, pulled you up from your chair, and settled you on his lap. Your face warmed at the intimacy, but you relaxed in his arms. Leaning your head against his chest, you let a feeling of peace wash over you, even if only for the moment.

You did not know how long the two of you sat in silence, content to just hold one another. But you knew that you could not stay like this forever. There were too many words left unspoken. Too many decisions to be made. 

Benjicot broke the silence first. “I brought you to Stone Hedge because I never wish to part from you. The thought of leaving you on Bracken land again gutted me.” He paused, throat working as he tried to gather his thoughts. Closing his eyes, Benjicot looked like he was bracing himself. “I knew that if I brought you here, brought you to my father and Aly, we could force the issue of us being together.”

Pulling away from his chest, you adjusted your legs to straddle his thighs. Benjicot’s hands gripped your waist to steady you. You clasped his face in your hands, demanding his gaze on yours. “We should have made that decision together. This is my life too, my future. I refuse to be under your thumb, Blackwood.” 

Lowering your face to his, you whispered against his mouth, “If you ever do something like that again, I will end you.” 

You did not know who kissed whom. But it did not matter. Benjicot’s mouth was on yours, devouring and claiming. Lifting you into his arms, and without breaking the kiss, he moved the two of you from the chairs to the bed. 

Your back hit the pillows. When you did not feel Benjicot’s weight on you, you opened your eyes to see him at the foot of the bed. Watching you. The look in eyes was pure hunger. His entire being seemed focused on you. On your body. The rise and fall of your breasts. The clenching of your thighs. 

“Benjicot.” There was a note of pleading in your voice.

His name on your lips broke whatever spell he was under. His lips returned to yours as if he were starving for your kiss. 

You spread your legs for him, letting his body fall into the cradle of your thighs. You flushed at the hardness you felt against your core. And when he drove his hips into yours, pressing that hardness against you, you moaned, legs trembling as you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter. 

Benjicot moved his kiss from your mouth down to your neck, biting and licking and marking for all the world to see. He wanted to brand you. Wanted everyone to know that you belonged to him. That you were his and he was yours.

He slid one hand up your leg, bringing your dress with him until it pooled at your waist, revealing your lower half to him, with only your small clothes in between.

You could not stop your hips from bucking when he dragged his hand over your covered cunt. You had never felt anything like this before. Your attempts at pleasuring yourself were nothing compared to what Benjicot did to you. You felt warm and achy and empty and completely out of control.  

“Will you let me see more of you, my lady?” Benjicot asked, not taking his eyes away from where his hand touched your heat. 

You were on a precipice. There was no turning back from this. No turning back from whatever ruin lay ahead of you. 

Letting out a breath, you whispered, “Yes.” 

No sooner had the word left your mouth were your small clothes ripped from your body. You did not have even a moment to protest, for the second your cunt was exposed to the air, Benjicot was bringing his hand between your folds. 

“Fuck.” Benjicot groaned. Slipping one finger into you, he pressed the heel of his hand against your clit. “You’re so wet, my lady.”

You whined at his words and the feeling of his hand working you. With every touch and circle of his fingers, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to that release you craved. 

But release evaded you. You rocked yourself against Benjicot’s hand, trying to force his movements to switch from slow and careful to forceful and demanding. 

“Benjicot, please—” 

“Please what, my lady?” His voice teasing, as he began to slow his movements. 

You groaned in frustration. You did not have the words. Did not know what to ask for. “I need something.” 

Benjicot stopped moving his hand entirely, and you could have cried. And when he removed his hand completely, you considered killing him all over again. 

“I swear on the old gods and the new—”

The look Benjicot shot you silenced the curse on your tongue. “No gods will hear you here, my lady.”

Glaring at him, you asked, “Do you wish for me to beg, Blackwood?” 

Benjicot hummed at the question. “A Bracken begging for a Blackwood to bring her pleasure? That does hold some appeal.” 

Before you could respond, Benjicot slid down your body, bracing both hands on your thighs to keep you open and spread wide. Your stomach clenched, as he brought his face to hover over your slick cunt. 

Benjicot glanced back up at you, waiting for a signal that you understood what he intended. Your breaths were uneven and rapid. The thought of his mouth on the most intimate part of you was beyond your comprehension. 

And when you nodded, Benjicot gave you that feral, wicked smile. The one that never failed to make your heart thud against your chest. He lowered his head, until all you could see was his dark, messy hair between your thighs. 

The first drag of his tongue against your center fractured your world. You felt undone and made whole again. You thought your heard Benjicot curse against your wetness, but you were too far lost in pleasure to be sure. 

He licked and licked and licked. Each swipe of his tongue brought a moan to your lips. He lingered on your clit, sucking and nipping until it was almost too much. You arched against him, unable to stop yourself from moving your hips against his face.  

Benjicot pressed a hand to your stomach, stilling you, as he slid his tongue straight into your cunt. You could not think, could not do anything except submit to the feelings he brought out in you. 

“You taste,” Benjicot moaned against you, “even better than I imagined, my lady.” 

You were sure you were crying. At the sight of your tears, Benjicot laughed and sunk two fingers into you, dragging another moan from the depths of your throat. 

Release was almost in your reach, just beyond your grasp. “Please, please, please.” You chanted, shaking your head back and forth against the pillow. 

Benjicot drove his fingers deeper and deeper, working his teeth and tongue against you, and with one final flick of his tongue to your clit, your back bowed off the bed, your release crashing into you. 

Even when you clenched down on his fingers and pulled at his hair, Benjicot did not stop moving against you. Fingers pumping. Tongue and lips feasting. He devoured whatever pleasure you gifted him. Only when you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air and reeling at the aftershocks, did he finally stop.

Your mind and body existed on different planes. You were not even sure you remembered your own name, so thoroughly had Benjicot upended your world. 

As you tried to put yourself back together, you noticed Benjicot adjusting himself in his breaches. You had never seen a cock before. But suddenly you found yourself desperate to see his. 

Sitting up, you placed your hand atop his, staying his movements. Benjicot glanced at you sharply, his breath catching in his throat. 

You met his stare. You did not know what you were doing. All you knew was that you wanted to give him even a fracture of the pleasure he had given you. 

Swallowing your insecurities, you asked, “Will you show me what to do?”

For once, Benjicot seemed to be at a loss for words. But he helped you undo the laces and unfasten his breaches. The muscles in his thighs shifted as he pulled himself free. 

Benjicot’s cock was enormous. Although you had nothing to compare it to, you were sure he had to be on the larger side. Enormous and hard and leaking from the slit at the top. Your mouth felt parched at the sight. 

You looked up at Benjicot, only to find his eyes focused wholly on you and your reaction. You did not want to disappoint him. 

“How do I please you, my lord?” Benjicot groaned at your words, taking himself in hand. Up and down, he stroked his length with a force that surprised you. 

Benjicot watched as your eyes widened at his actions. Watched the way you licked your lips. Watched the way you rubbed your thighs together. You enjoyed seeing him this way. 

“Have you ever touched a cock, my lady?” He knew the answer but wanted your confirmation. 

Shaking your head, you reached out to run your finger over the leaking slit. Benjicot grabbed your and placed it on his cock, trembling when you wrapped your hand around his length. 

And what a feeling that was. The ruthless, cruel Bloody Ben trembling from the pleasure you gave him. The idea of him being wholly at your mercy was intoxicating. 

Your own hand shook a little as you stroked him. The skin was softer than you had imagined, but he felt hard as steel beneath. You felt him shudder against you as you worked your hand up and down. 

“That’s it, my lady.” Benjicot murmured, lost in the feeling of your hand against him. “Just a little harder. You won’t break me.” You followed Benjicot’s direction, squeezing his cock and pumping as fast as you had seen him do before. 

And when he felt your nails graze the sensitive underside of his cock, he arched off the bed, chest heaving.

“You handle my cock so well.” You flushed at the praise, your own breaths coming out quicker and quicker the more you touched and explored. 

With one final hard twist, Benjicot exploded in your hand, moaning your name as he came. 

How many times had he imagined this? How many times had he thought of you while touching himself? And now you were here, in his home, and he never wanted you to leave. 

Benjicot surged forward, kissing you with all of his pent up feelings. He refused to live without you. Refused to give you up because of an ancient feud and a looming war. 

So, even though you were both half dressed, slick with sweat and spit and gods know what else, Benjicot asked, “My lady, would you do me the honor of marrying me? Tonight?” 

final author note: I hope you liked it! I think I updated my taglist to reflect everyone who asked to be added, but please let me know if I missed you or if you would like to be added for future updates.

taglist:

@painted-flag @majoso12

@strollthroughstars29 @a-whiterose

@rebeccawinters @alifeinspiredd

@klutzylaena @poppyflower-22

@iliterallyhavenoideawhattowrite @justannadahfanfictor

@aaaaslaaaan @hobis-hope95

@username199945 @daddyslittlevillain

@flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @prettykinkysoul

[maythearo]

" Welcome back to Night Raven College's 'Ghostly Gossip'! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" I'd usually describe this as a super exclusive entry, but who am I kidding? If you've spent more than five minutes in this school, you've already seen his shadows lurking around in the background at some point (I mean, he's like. super tall.) "

Navigation:

R. Rosehearts ▪︎ T. Clover ▪︎ C. Diamond ▪︎ A. Trappola ▪︎ D. Spade ▪︎ L. Kingscholar ▪︎ R. Bucchi ▪︎ J. Howl ▪︎ A. Ashengrotto ▪︎ J. Leech ▪︎ F. Leech ▪︎ K. Al Asim ▪︎ J. Viper ▪︎ V. Schoenheit ▪︎ R. Hunt ▪︎ E. Felmier ▪︎ I. Shroud ▪︎ O. Shroud ▪︎ M. Draconia ▪︎ L. Vanrouge ▪︎ S. Zigvolt ▪︎ Silver

Design notes:

Man I've been postponing this for so long, I don't even remember half of what my process with this one was like. But I concluded that if I don't post this now, the loss of my mental notes will only get worse with time, so here you go, putting this out there once and for all lol

For a general picture I wanted Malleus' vibes to be more fairy tale-like. (He ended up reminding me a bit of Faybelle too, in a way.) The colors of those iridescent black feathers go well with him, I think. And did someone mention Howl's moving castle? Yeah, Howl's monster form.

I got this one ask before, reccomending the Cockatrice monster for Malleus, and searching a bit about it, is apparently also often taken as a synonymous with the basilisk? So like, Wyvern meets Basilisk, but it is also giving fae, idk. Listen, the idea inside my head is like, if you're asked to imagine a mythical creature that roams around a dark forest, outside the castle of a cursed princess, it's him. He's the creature.

And I'll admit I have not been catching up with the Diasomnia's chapter :( so give me 50 years at least so I can make up some more in-depth lore for his MH au counterpart (or maybe I'll just read a resume out of the wiki). Malleus enjoyers are free to drop headcanons onto him, you guys' knowledge of his character are always so astronomical it never fails to impress me /gen

[petalsprompts]

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒; 𝙽𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙻 𝚀𝚄𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝙱𝚈 𝙶𝙴𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴 𝚁.𝚁. 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙸𝙽.

change  pronouns,  tenses  and  other  details  as  deemed  necessary. &  please  specify  muse  when  sending  to  a  mumu. slightly edited wording for roleplaying purposes.

My  skin  has  turned  to  porcelain,  to  ivory,  to  steel.

Any  act  can  be  a  prayer,  if  done  as  well  as  we  are  able.

A  man  who  hates  music  can’t  be  trusted,  I  always  say.

Has  my  tale  turned  you  speechless?  Come,  curse  me  or  kiss  me  or  call  me  a  liar.  Something.

A  bag  of  gold  buys  a  man's  silence  for  a  while,  but  a  well-placed  arrow  buys  it  forever.

If  I  am  a  monster,  perhaps  you  should  speak  more  softly  to  me,  then.  Monsters  are  dangerous  beasts,  and  just  now  kings  seem  to  be  dying  like  flies.

Every  man  must  die,  [NAME].  But  first  he  must  live.

You're  mine.  Mine,  as  I'm  yours.

[NAME]  fought  valiantly,  [NAME]  fought  nobly,  [NAME]  fought  honorably.  And  [NAME] died.

Old  stories  are  like  old  friends  You  have  to  visit  them  from  time  to  time.

You  were  made  to  be  kissed,  often  and  well.

Half-truths  are  worth  more  than  outright  lies.

Some  battles  are  won  with  swords  and  spears,  others  with  quills  and  ravens.

Soon  comes  the  cold,  and  the  night  that  never  ends.

Always  keep  your  foes  confused.  If  they  are  never  certain  who  you  are  or  what  you  want,  they  cannot  know  what  you  are  like  to  do  next.

They’ve  never  seen  a  battle,  they’ve  never  seen  a  man  die,  they  know  nothing. 

Madness  and  greatness  are  two  sides  of  the  same  coin. 

Only  lies  offend  me,  never  honest  counsel.

Woman?  Is  that  meant  to  insult  me?  I  would  return  the  slap,  if  I  took  you  for  a  man.

We  look  up  at  the  same  stars  and  see  such  different  things.

I  crossed  a  thousand  leagues  to  come  to  you,  and  lost  the  best  part  of  me  along  the  way.  Don't  tell  me  to  leave.

I've  lost  a  hand,  a  father,  a  son,  a  sister,  and  a  lover,  and  soon  enough  I  will  lose  a  brother.  And  yet  they  keep  telling  me  my  family  won  this  war.

All  these  kings  would  do  a  deal  better  if  they  would  put  down  their  swords  and  listen  to  their  mothers.

I  must  be  strong.  I  must  have  fire  in  my  eyes  when  I  face  them,  not  tears.

Why  ask  for  truth  if  you  close  your  ears  to  it?

There  is  a  savage  beast  in  every  man,  and  when  you  hand  that  man  a  sword  or  spear  and  send  him  forth  to  war,  the  beast  stirs.

Always  keep  your  foes  confused.  If  they  are  never  certain  who  you  are  or  what  you  want,  they  cannot  know  what  you  are  like  to  do  next.

If  you  love  me  all  so  much,  why  are  you  still  dressed?

There's  been  no  one.  Only  you.

Why  do  the  Gods  make  kings  and  queens  if  not  to  protect  the  ones  who  can't  protect  themselves?

Explain  to  me  why  it  is  more  noble  to  kill  ten  thousand  men  in  battle  than  a  dozen  at  dinner.

We're  all  just  songs  in  the  end.  If  we  are  lucky.

All  men  are  fools,  if  truth  be  told,  but  the  ones  in  motley  are  more  amusing  than  ones  with  crowns.

[speaknow-sw]

•| ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ |•

Content : Blood, deaths, injury.

A/N : This is the prologue, I only have three chapter written so far but at the second I get my wifi back I’m getting into writing. Hope y’all like it. (Minors can interact).

•| ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ |•

Rome was built on blood. And you were the hand that spilled it.

THERE ARE STORIES CARVED INTO THE BONES OF THE EARTH, whispered through the winds that sweep across ancient ruins. Tales of glory and conquest, of gods and mortals entwined in fate’s cruel embrace. The foundation of Rome is one such tale—a story of two brothers, bound by blood and divided by destiny. But as with all legends, there are truths buried beneath the myth. Forgotten truths.

They say Romulus built Rome, that he was chosen by the gods to raise its walls and reign as its first king. They do not speak of the blood spilled to make that city rise. They do not speak of the brother he killed to crown himself in glory.

There were once two brothers.

Romulus was the elder—clever and kind, the embodiment of law and order. He dreamed of empire, of power forged in marble and blood. He believed in destiny, a thread spun by the gods that he alone was meant to hold. He was a man of ambition, of unyielding will, a figure carved from Vesta.

And then there was Remus.

Wild and untamed, like a storm that could never be captured. His laughter echoed through the forests, and his rebellion burned brighter than any hearth fire. He saw the world not as it was, but as it could be—free from chains, free from the gods’ cruel games. Where Romulus sought order, Remus sought freedom. Where Romulus spoke of duty, Remus spoke of love.

And you—

You were a thread woven between them. Promised to Romulus, a symbol of unity and strength. But your heart… your heart belonged to Remus. From the moment you met him, you were lost to him. He was the untamed sky, and you were a restless sea, drawn to his wildness, to the way he saw you—not as a pawn in a king’s game, but as something free.

For a time, you believed love could overcome fate. That you could be more than what the gods decreed. But love, like all things, demanded a price.

When the brothers stood on the banks of the Tiber, planning their city, it was not the gods who chose the victor. It was betrayal. It was blood.

It began as a game. The brothers sought a sign from the gods to determine who would build their city on which hill. Romulus stood on the Palatine, and Remus on the Aventine. Romulus claimed twelve ravens flew above him, a symbol of divine favor. Remus, desperate not to lose, lied—saying six ravens flew above him first, trying to claim the gods had spoken to him before they turned to Romulus.

Romulus saw through the lie, and his heart hardened.

To Romulus, the betrayal was unforgivable. His brother had not only tried to take the city meant for him but had tarnished the will of the gods. The gods had chosen Romulus, and in Remus’s defiance, he saw rebellion, chaos—a threat to everything he dreamed of building.

When Remus leapt mockingly over the boundary Romulus had marked for the city walls, Romulus saw not a jest, but a challenge. His sword met his brother’s heart before the laughter faded from Remus’s lips.

Romulus knelt over his fallen brother, his hands stained with blood. He did not weep. He whispered words of duty, of sacrifice, convincing himself that this was what the gods demanded.

But Romulus hadn’t struck his brother down only for his mockery. He had seen you with Remus, seen the way you looked at him with love meant only for a husband. His rage was not born of ambition alone—it was born of betrayal. His brother had taken what was his.

The gods watched as Remus fell to the earth, his blood seeping into the soil that would one day grow Rome. They watched as you wept over his broken body, as your cries pierced the heavens and as your body was thrown into the Tiber. But the gods are cruel, and they do not weep for mortals.

For your infidelity, they cursed you.

You would be the goddess of legends, doomed to remember the forgotten brother. While the world praised Romulus, calling him the founder of Rome, you would walk the earth, whispering stories of Remus to those who cared to listen. His name would fade from history, but it would never fade from your lips.

You became a wanderer, a keeper of forgotten truths. You roamed the ruins of Rome, tracing the paths you once walked with Remus. You stood by the Tiber where he fell, your fingers brushing the reeds as if they still held his blood. You told his story to passing travelers, to poets and dreamers, hoping that someone—anyone—would remember him.

Centuries passed. Empires rose and fell. But your curse endured. The world forgot Remus, praising the greatness of Rome, built on his bones. Romulus was remembered as a hero, while Remus became nothing more than a whisper on the wind.

But legends are never truly lost.

The gods are cruel, but fate is crueler. Time is a circle, and stories never end—they simply begin again. The soul of Remus, restless and wild, could not be bound by death. He would be reborn, again and again, destined to cross paths with you across the ages.

And now, in the heart of Rome’s empire, he lives once more.

He is not a prince or a king this time. He is no longer a man of noble birth, destined to build cities. He is a gladiator, a slave, bound in chains, his body scarred by the lash and his heart hardened by loss. But his eyes—those storm-blue eyes—are the same.

You see him in the Colosseum, fighting for his life with the same reckless abandon that once made you love him. His name is no longer Remus. He is Anakin now—a man forgotten by the gods, but not by you.

You watch him from the shadows, aching with the weight of centuries. You want to reach out, to call his name, to tell him that you remember. That you have always remembered. But the gods are watching, and they will not forgive you for defying them again.

Still, you cannot stay away.

Your paths will cross. They must. The gods may curse you, but they cannot erase what was written into the stars.

Rome was built on blood, on betrayal, on love lost and found. And as you stood among its ruins, you knew that history will repeat itself. The immortal and the reincarnated. The forgotten brother and the wandering soul.

But heroism was not your fate.

And what nobody knew, was that before the creation of Rome and before their names were changed by layers of history, the brothers true Jedi names, the one they were born with as simple mortals…were Anakin and Obi-Wan. 

[storywriter007]

You'll Remember Me - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n suffers the consequences of her and percy's tragic tale

warnings: cursing, heartbreak, character death, betrayal

genre: angst

word count: 869

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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as y/n killed the monster, she felt herself get cut on the gut. she fell backwards and placed her hand on her stomach. she stood up shakily, lifting her sword. they were in the middle of a battle, she couldn't die now. she tried to swing, but her attempts were weak. she tried to walk, but her feet dragged. she fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. she looked at the cut that had grazed her abdomen, and realized it wasn't from any blade, it was from a poisonous spike on the monster. she'd been poisoned. she desperately searched the perimeter for someone who could help.

she saw her best friend, swinging rapidly and summoning hurricanes.

"percy!" she yelled.

he looked over, concern washing over his face, but he made no attempt to come her way. annabeth ran up and grabbed his arm.

"percy, this place is falling apart! we need to leave, now!" she yelled.

pieces of the ceiling began to fall as flames erupted. percy stayed in his spot. annabeth said something to him. y/n couldn't figure out what it was, but his gaze softened as he nodded his head. the two of them ran towards the exit. y/n laid on her side as the temperature rose. exhaustion took her over.

he had left her. her best friend, for six years, had left her to die. where was his loyalty now, when she needed it?

but y/n understood he had shown his loyalty. just not to her, to his girlfriend. to annabeth. and now she'd die, because his loyalty was her betrayal.

y/n felt blood spew out of her mouth. she was going out the way she had always wanted to, guns blazing in the middle of a fight that made a difference. it wasn't an unsatisfactory death. suddenly, y/n heard a voice.

"y/n!" the familiar voice called out. "don't give up on me!"

somebody desperately tried to drag her out of the burning building. she felt the concrete graze against her skin as the weak force tried to save her. he pulled her out and laid her in front of the broken building. she was barely alive.

"she doesn't have much time left!" he panicked. "c'mon y/n, just give me five minutes, we're going to get you to the ship and everthing's going to be okay!"

she knew the voice. she knew who it was. it was the boy she'd befriended when he was young. she'd practically been his sister. she knew it was nico di'angelo. he had come back for her. she felt another person kneel down by her. she could she his raven black hair and his sea green eyes.

"what the fuck percy!" nico yelled. "how could you do this! it was just the three of you!"

"i had no choice nico!" he defended.

"liar!" he screamed. "you told me the same thing when my sister died! and, now, now, i'm going to lose the only person who has ever cared about me because of you!"

y/n could tell nico was on the verge of tears.

"please, y/n, don't leave me now." percy pleaded.

"i've loved you a long time, percy. ever since you and i went on our first quest when we were eleven." she said, using her remaining energy to give a confession she should've given a long time ago. "it broke me to see you with annabeth. it still does."

"y/n.."

"you'll live a long time, percy. years without me." she continued. "you'll find camp half-blood strangely void, because when you come to find me, i won't be there."

he looked at her with tears in his sea green eyes. oh, those beautiful eyes.

"you'll remember me. when you see the stars, when you look at our photos, when you see friendship bracelets, when you talk to your mother and she'll ask, 'why don't we go visit y/n? she's only a block away.' always, your heart will be yearning for me." she paused. "and your mind will give you the unconvincing comfort that you had no choice." she spat, bitterly.

he kneeled besides her, speechless.

"nico." she said, lifting her hand up to hold his. she felt weak. "i'm sorry you have to see me like this."

tears fell from his eyes.

"but, i want you to know that i believe in you. i have faith in you. i always have, and i always will." she paused, knowing these were her last words. "you are a hero."

she felt her eyes shut.

"y/n!" nico shook her. "y/n!"

she didn't awake, she felt herself drifting.

"you destroy everything that matters to me!" nico screamed at percy. "you're a fucking monster!"

she felt at peace. she felt as if she was above the cruel world of unfair gods and tortured children.

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percy sat next to annabeth in his home. the war was over. the demi-gods had won. but at what cost?

"percy." sally called.

"yeah?" he responded.

"why don't we go visit y/n? she's only a block away." sally asked, placing cookies in a box for the first real friend her son had ever made.

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hope you guys liked it :) just had to remind you guys that i am an angst writer

yes i did reference dangerously yours

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Forevermore

Happily Ever After, here we are. This is part 20 of 20... The End.

Tale of the Cursed Raven: Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

The Mostro Lounge after hours is a shadow of itself in the daytime. With the lights turned down and the area empty, it transforms from a classy jazz bar to a lonely cavern, twisting with strange shapes. The sea overlooks it, coloring the lounge a lonely deep blue.

A cackling laugh rings out.

“Ahahahahah!! Jade got stood up,” Floyd sputters, pounding a fist on a table. He has a glass of juice in hand, has been chugging shot after shot of it to power his giggles. "What a loser!!"

“Floyd, you’re being so rude,” Azul sighs—though he is fighting a smirk. “Perhaps Jade is simply not as desirable as he might believe he is. We cannot fault him for that."

Jade, sandwiched between his twin and his dorm leader, wears a tight smile. "I am glad to see you two are being so very supportive of me during my time of emotional crisis," he says sardonically. “Where would I be without you?”

His biting comment doesn't stop Floyd from downing another glass of juice, from letting loose another round of laughter.

"She finally got her back at ’cha ya after you pushed her around for so long," Floyd teases. But he’s not on her side—no, not with that malicious jeer on his face. He knows his brother too well. “Oh, she is so dead.”

“I’m don’t want to be held liable for whatever stunt you decide to pull next,” Azul adds, quick with the reminder, “so be reasonable with your revenge, will you?

“I make no promises,” Jade says lightly. “I am very hurt by the what transpired. There’s no telling how far I may be driven to act on account of a broken heart.”

“Broken heart!!” Floyd gasps. In all his 17 years, he has never heard his twin make a claim more ridiculous. “Jade? Hahahahah!! More like hurt pride."

"More tea?" Azul offers, readying a pot. "To fill your cup and your 'broken heart'."

"My, you're so cruel to poor little me. Shikushiku, I'm being bullied so," Jade laments, rubbing at fake tears. "... But yes, more tea would be lovely. I could make do with a warm drink after being hung out to dry in that cold, bitter night."

"It's spring. It's not that cold," Floyd jabs.

"Oh, let him be a drama queen and air it all out." The tea is poured and slid to Jade. "Better that he do this now than during work hours."

Knock, knock, knock!

"... Now who could that be?" Azul wonders. He raises his voice so that it reaches outside. "The Mostro Lounge is closed for the day. If you wish to dine at our establishment, please consider coming back tomorrow afternoon..."

The knocking persists, louder and faster.

Azul opens his mouth to reiterate his message--but Floyd gets up and stomps over, yanking the door open.

"Didn't 'cha hear Azul the first time?" the eel growls. "He said to scram, or-- Oh." He abruptly stops. The anger he wears slowly morphs into a sly grin. "Oooooooh."

"Floyd? Who is it?" Azul demands. Then he, too, stops. "... Jade, I think you have a visitor."

He peers up from the rim of his teacup.

There, peeking out from between Floyd and Azul, is a small girl in pigtails and a feathered shawl. A very, very familiar girl.

Jade sets his drink down and rises to his feet. "Miss Raven?"

His dorm leader glances at Floyd, seizing him by the arm. "Dear me! It seems I've forgotten to run some payroll calculations! I'll need your assistance with that, Floyd. Come, to my office."

"Eeeeh? But I wanna stick around and wa--"

"My office," Azul presses. His grip is a powerful vice on Floyd. "NOW."

The octopus drags his subordinate off. They disappear down a corridor, but Jade knows they’re lingering behind the wall, ears pressed to it. He tuts and shakes his head. At them, at the raven that has found its way to him.

“… Welcome to the Mostro Lounge,” Jade recites, bending onto a bow. He speaks as though reading from a script. “Bar or booth, and how big is your party?”

“Hello,” Raven replies curtly. “Booth is fine. It’s just me today.”

He smirks. “Just you?”

“Well—” she falters. “Technically two, but the other person in my party is already seated.”

“Two it is then.” Jade indicates the table he sits at, and the seat beside him.

Raven carefully slides into it, but keeps about a person’s worth of distance from him. He remains where he is, respecting that boundary.

“Ordinarily, we would require a filled out punch card for a private consultation,” Jade attempts at a joke. It’s as dry as a cracker.

“For Azul-san, yes.” She folds her arms. “But you’re the one I wanted to see, not him.”

“Oya?” There is a thread of delight in his voice.

“Look." Raven hesitates, but she forces herself to swallow her pride. "I will speak plainly. You... have wronged me in the past. Lied to me, manipulated me, all for your own gain. In short, you're awful. Terrible. Absolutely THE WORST."

He does not disagree, does not profess guilt. Only smiles patiently.

A breath. "However, I have made missteps as well. I realize that you have attempted to approach me to make amends, yet I never paid any mind to them. I was so fixated on my own hurt, I shut myself off from the world and refused to listen to the calls that came from beyond my tower.

"I built up those walls. I locked the exit and threw out the key. I tamed a dragon to guard my tower. It felt safer to keep that distance than to push against it."

She produces an envelope and lays it on the table. Pale blue, ripped open. To My Dearest Raven scrawled on it.

Jade's eyes glimmer with recognition.

"There's still too many things that need to be said. I don't think there's enough time to get through them. At this point, I fear even an apology would not be sufficient. So..." Raven clears her throat and sticks out her hand--the bandaged one. "Let’s turn a new page and start over.”

Jade's brows scrunch together. "Miss Raven, surely you do not intend to..."

"Hello! My name is... Raven Crowley," she loudly announces. Her introduction bounces off the glass wall, fills the empty chairs and crevices of the lounge. "I am a first-year student in Class 1-A. I look forward to working with you!"

Jade stares at her, stunned at her aplomb. A moment skips by, then he chuckles, slipping his hand into hers and shaking.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Raven. I am Jade Leech, second year in Class 2-E," he greets. "I also serve as the vice dorm leader of Octavinelle. Please do let me know if you are ever in need of any assistance. I would be more than happy to help you."

His hand, she notices, is far larger than hers. He could easily crush her poor fingers—but his touch is gentle, as if he is handling a glass slipper for a princess.

Her heart pounds.

She can’t do this, not again.

“I’m glad we were able to sort this out. Thank you for your understanding.” Raven grants him a papery smile. “Please give Azul-san and Floyd-san my regards, since they appear to be predisposed at the moment.”

She begins to retract her hand, and suddenly his grip hardens, assuming a strength she didn’t realize he is capable of. Pain lances through her nerves. Raven laughs anxiously.

“Erm… You can let go now?”

“I think not,” Jade insists. He has a predator's smile, the sharp ends of his teeth showing. "Is there anything else you wish to say to me, Miss Raven?"

"Th-That was all I wanted to say..."

"That is all? Have you anything to say for standing me up the other night?"

"N-No, I never intended for that to happen...! Something unexpected came up, so I couldn't make it as planned," Raven sputters, cheeks turning pink with shame.

"I was horribly hurt when you never appeared." Jade frowns, sorrow causing his voice to tremble. "You toyed with my feelings so cruelly. I can find it in myself to forgive you, should you look me in the eye and provide an apology."

"O-Okay, if that's what it takes to make you feel better and set things right..."

With great effort, she forces herself to stare at him. At Jade Leech. He's still every bit as handsome as he was before. A straight nose, wistful lips, clever cat-like eyes that slant up--not matching.

A beautiful liar.

A flurry of complicated feelings swarms her.

She visibly shakes.

"What is wrong, Miss Raven? You are looking at me with such a fearful gaze. Yes, the very same fearful gaze from our very first meeting."

His left eye--golden--shines eerily. When he talks it is low and hypnotic. Raven cannot find it in herself to tear away from them.

“Don’t be afraid. I want to help you.

"Shock the Heart.” 

“Eh…”

The light drains from her eyes.

Jade’s voice turns stern as he brings his face close to hers. “I will ask you a question, and you will answer honestly. Miss Raven, what exactly are your feelings towards me? Please state them very clearly and with your entire chest.”

Magic forces itself like a fisted arm down her throat. A harsh grip on her tongue, dredging up all the words she so often buries deep down. Her entire mouth feels like it is on fire.

“I-I…!”

Three words, eight letters.

They tumble so effortlessly from her.

The world stands still. It’s as though it, too, is in disbelief, freezing in its rotation to gasp.

No light. No sparkles. No poof.

But now she almost wants to go poof.

Raven goes from pink to scarlet. She covers her mouth with both hands and curls into a ball in the booth.

"Whoa, she said it--Black Pearly really, really said it," Floyd cries, poking his head out from his hiding place. “About time!!”

“F-Floyd…!” Azul hisses, appearing shortly after him. He pushes his glasses up. “T-To be clear, we were not eavesdropping! Not at all!! We just happened to finish our task and were returning to check up on you two.”

“Tsk, tsk… How naughty of you to interrupt this intimate moment between myself and Miss Raven.” Jade sounds disappointed, but he is grinning from ear to ear. “Fufufu, thank you for satisfying my curiosity.”

“Y-You…!!” Her voice revs up, squeaky as a dog’s chew toy. “You CHEATED!! You made me say something I wasn’t yet ready for…!”

“Oya?” He does not look the least bit apologetic about it. “What does it matter if I used less than conventional methods to arrive at the answer? In the end, the same results were achieved much more efficiently. And, on top of that…”

He reaches out and prods the tip of her nose.

“… I was able to see this charming reaction.”

“AHHHHHHHH, don’t remind me…!” Raven hides her burning face in her knees.

“Fufufufu. How adorable.”

Azul coughs stiffly, reminding them of his presence. “I think you fail to see the benefit of this move, Raven-san. It’s very benevolent of him.”

“What benefit?! Th-There is NOTHING beneficial about this situation unless you count Jade getting a sick kick out of this!!”

“My, that’s rather unkind of you to say. Amusing as it is, no. There is a real, tangible boon for you.” Azul taps at his temples. “Jade’s unique magic. Because he has used it on you once, he can no longer do so in the future.”

Her flaring temper cools for a few flickering seconds.

“Oh…”

He’s right.

Jade’s lip curls. “There. Isn’t that a weight off of your shoulders? Consider this my gift to you—reassurance that I will not be able to use Shock the Heart to pry other information out of you. As for what other underhanded tactics I may use… Fufu, well, I’m certain you can rely on your own best judgment to determine the truths and the lies.”

Raven glares at him. “You really are the worst.”

“Why, thank you.”

She angrily buries herself back in her knees. Jade looms over her, stroking her head and quietly fussing.

“Soooo…” Floyd scratches the back of his head. “Does this mean you guys’re gonna be a thing now? Like… a couple? You gonna make good-good eyes and make out now?”

“No way,” comes Raven’s muffled reply.

“Whaaat? But you basically confessed already. Quit bein’ stubborn.”

“I-It’s not stubbornness. I don’t feel like I’m… r-ready for that kind of a commitment!” Raven draws nervous circles on the booth cushions. “I’m still a newborn chick when it comes to m-matters of the heart… It’s embarrassing!!”

She takes a deep breath, then whispers, “B-Besides, I’m working on myself so I can be someone worthy of a love like that…”

“Bo~ring!” Floyd pouts, then turns to his twin with a much brighter tone. “Ne, ne, Jade~ Are you and Black Pearly gonna be together?”

“Don’t ask him just because you didn’t like my answer!!”

“Raven-san is correct,” Azul points out. “A couple it is not unless those involved mutually agree to the arrangement. Jade may say yes, but Raven-san may say no… thus annulling the terms.”

“Oh dear, what a predicament we find ourselves in.” Jade sighs, and he almost sounds tired. “There’s no helping it, I suppose. We must respect Miss Raven’s wishes. That is fine. As I said in my letter, a little black birdie once told me that I can be very patient. However, until the time comes when you feel you are ready to be fully embraced…”

She locks up.

Warm breath caresses her ear.

“How does this part go again?” Jade muses. “Ah, yes... And they lived happily ever after… The end.”

His mouth gently presses to her forehead. Soft, sweet, and smelling of the sea and the sky.

“W-What… a-awawawawah…” Raven goes from red to burgundy. Her ability to form sentences spirals downward.

“Oya, you’re quite flustered~”

“Wooow, they’re bein’ so mushy, Azul.” Floyd openly grimaces. “It’s kinda… gross.”

"Indeed, they are—and in front of onlookers.” Their dorm leader shrugs. “Shameless as it is, I do so love a happy ending.”

And it will remain as such, forevermore.

[revivemyreverie]

You're nervous, aren't you? I can hear it in the way your heart's beating...

Twisted from: Narrator of the Tale-Tell Heart, by Edgar Allen Poe

Saga Levoriol

ベーガス・キャスティヤ

CV: Horie Shun (堀江 瞬)

Technical info.

Gender: Male

Birthday: 10/13

Age: 20

Height: 179 cm

Hair Color: Crow Black

Eye Color: Heterochromatic; Dark Green & Baby Blue

Hand Pref.: Left

Homeland: City of Flowers

College Info.

Class: 3A Set 14

Club: None

Favorite Subject: Biology

Other.

Hobby: Journaling

Likes: Being alone

Dislikes: Ravens

Favorite Food: Beef Heart Stew

Hated Food: Sashimi

Specialty: Rambling

UM: Lies In The Floorboards, Beats in Your Blood

A super-hearing skill that allows Saga to hear the heartbeat of everyone nearby.

Hearts, Eyes, & Other Parts to Find

Dear Diary,

To start off, I am not a madman, nor am I insane. I can prove that with medical documents and even my family accounts, even if I am just a supposed shut-in to them.

You see, I had a roommate that I believed to be demonic. He had eyes of pure evil, and to live with him would have been hell on earth. I have been raised rather religiously, so I saw it as completely fine to outright murder the man. And so I did– I took his life and hid the body in a place no one would ever know. I noticed while moving the body too, that his eye happened to be missing, but I chalked it up to being too brutal with the act.

But that was not the only odd occurrence. I suddenly began to hear odd thumps in the apartment, the beating of a heart so loud that my head could have burst. My parents said my Unique Magic had somehow developed, but I’m sure its a curse instilled on me for my grave act. Still, everyone in the building acted as if nothing had happened, like he hadn’t gone missing! I swear I was going mad, that they all knew something!

But then, the most horrific day came. I get a knock on the door, and there stands my roommate, alive and bright as ever. He says he had gone on vacation, and that I must have forgotten. Everyone laughed when he told the story to his friends, but he’s lying! I know he is! If not, then whose body did I bury? Who did I stab in an fearful rage?! Whose whose whose–

Whose blue eye rests in my skull?

[ficretus]

RWBY teams get reorganized.

CRWBY: Hello RWBY characters.

Ruby: Who are you? Are you Gods?

Salem: Please tell me you are destroying the world.

Cinder: What do you mean RWBY characters? Does that mean that brat is the protagonist?

CRWBY: No, no, yes. Higher ups in Viz demanded we make some changes to the show. So we are gonna reorganize the teams based on the origin of their fairy tale allusion.

Yang: I didn't understand a single word you just said.

CRWBY: Andddd... reshuffle!

*magic poof*

TEAM GERMANY:

Ruby: Why do I no longer like strawberries and cookies?

Weiss: Take this pretzel and shut up.

Ruby: Weiss? We are still partners?

Weiss: Of course we are, nothing can separate us.

Ruby: That's great. Where are the others?

Weiss: It appears they are not German enough for our team.

Ruby: Look! There is another one of our teammates! *turns into rose petals*

Weiss: Ruby, don't jump a complete stranger like that.

Ruby: *tackles them down* Hello, I am Ruby Ro... oh.

Salem: Somehow this curse keeps getting worse.

Weiss: Scheisse!

TEAM FRANCE:

Oscar: I hope ze Ruby is my partner, hon hon hon. Ugh, what the hell happened to my voice.

Ozpin: Oscar, you are taking a dangerous route I cannot follow.

Oscar: Oz, what ze happening?

Ozpin: You are turning French. *soul gets ejected from Oscar's body*

Oscar: Nooooooo. It feels like part of me is missing now. I have a sudden urge to fill it with cheese and wi... Sacrebleu, I am really turning into ze Frenchman. I need to talk to someone, where are my teammates. *hears loud noises* There they are.

*walks up*

Oscar: Bonj... Hello, I am Oscar.

Cinder: We know who you are Farm Boy. Now, as the leader of this team...

Jaune: Who the hell put you in charge of this team?! Why are you even on this team, Cinderella story has many origins!

Cinder: Because I am Cinderella with glass slippers nimrod! Only French one has glass slippers!

Jaune: Great, I'm on the team with Pyrrha's murderer.

Cinder: Oh give me a break, they revived her. She is over there tossing Mercury. You are just salty because now there is no excuse for you not getting laid.

Oscar: Wait, why am I the only one with ze French accent?

Blake: Because you are an impressionable kid.

Oscar: Blake! You are ze here too!

Blake: *chuckles* Yes I am.

Jaune: Oh shut up!

Cinder: Make me!

Blake: How long will it take before they start making out?

TEAM ENGLAND:

Yang: Of course it's raining. Can this place get any worse?

Jax: Hello peasant.

Yang: I am gonna pretend I didn't hear that.

Jax: Me and my sister need someone to observe our polo game. Now move your arse.

Gilian: Polo? I am not playing polo with you Jax. You always rile up my horse with your Semblance!

Jax: So what? Are we suppose to just sit here and drink tea?

Gilian: I wouldn't mind that. Peasant, bring us some tea! And make sure it is Darjeeling, otherwise I might throw up.

*Yang knocks out both*

Yang: Can't pretend twice in the row.

Blake: Yang, is that you?

Yang: Blake! Where are you?

Blake: I am on the other side of the Channel!

Yang: What's going on on the other side?

Blake: Jaune and Cinder fighting... scratch that... making out. Oscar is losing himself to his French side. Toss me some fish and chips before his Frenchness fully overtakes him. You know what, throw some for me as well.

Yang: Are we suppose to be enemies now that you are French and I'm English?

Blake: Yes we are, but that's so hot.

Yang: Oh yeah. Wait, someone else is here.

Robyn: *pickpocketing Asturias siblings* No time to explain, I'm repurposing their funds.

TEAM NORDIC:

Winter: This is something new. I... I've never had a partner or team. I just hope it's not...

Qrow: Hello Ice Queen!

Winter: Branwen...

Qrow: It turns out Ice Queen is based on Snow Queen, how original.

Winter: What are you even doing here? Don't you have some other places to be, other people to bother?

Qrow: Nope, I am as Nordic as it gets. It turns out I am based on one of the Odin's messengers. Other one being... oh crap.

Raven: Hello brother!

Qrow: Raven... Don't you have some other places to be, family members to abandon?

Raven: And miss out on this? No way.

Winter: Wait a minute... You kidnapped Weiss!

Raven: Oh please, she ran into me. Can hardly count it as kidnapping.

Winter: Oh don't worry, this will hardly count as a beatdown. *draws swords*

Raven: Pfff, another Maiden to beat.

Nora: Heya Qrow, what did I miss.

Qrow: Not much kid, just some of the reasons I started drinking.

TEAM USA:

Ozpin: Come on James, don't be a buzzkill, we are doing the Wizard of Oz walk.

Ironwood: I am starting to believe that it wasn't a coincidence I tried to kill you.

Ozpin: Ha ha ha, good old James and his deadpan humor.

*walks down the road holding hands with Glynda, Theodore and Lionheart*

Adam: So, drinking alone on the sideline.

Ironwood: What are you doing here Taurus? Aren't you suppose to be on Team France?

Adam: Well, I tried. But they argued I don't count since most of my allusion comes from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. And Blake filed a restraining order... typical.

Ironwood: You know I can have you arrested.

Adam: Arrest a teammate? Who does that?

Ironwood: I do.

Adam: Fair enough. You know, I stabbed a teammate before.

Ironwood: Cheers.

Adam: Cheers.

TEAM ITALY:

Penny: *sad lonely robot noises* Wait, who is there?

Neo: *signs* It's me, Neo. *sits next to Penny*

Penny: Aren't you based on an ice cream?

Neo: *signs* It's an Italian ice cream. Do you want to be alone?

Penny: No. *shifts closer*

[rotomartsblog]

I mean no ill will but every time people in the EAH fandoms talk about the “original” stories the characters are based on I feel like this

“In the original Snow White-“ “In the original red riding hood-“ We! Don’t! Know! The! Originals! We may be able to track the first instance of it being written and/or published but we don’t know the original because 90% of the time the fairy tale was originally spread orally. Like, for example, while Charles Perrault’s Little Red Riding Hood was the earliest known printed version we can trace earlier versions of from way before. The Brothers Grimm may have been the first to write down the Hansel and Gretel story but they themselves sourced it to various tales from the region they lived, and a folklorist propositions that the tale may have emerged around the Late Middle Ages.

And that’s not even accounting for these fairy tale authors writing down their versions with an agenda or bias. Perrault’s version of Red Riding Hood was a cautionary tale about predators so Red dies at the end, while earlier traces of the tale had this variant as well there were variants where Red escapes by tricking the wolf. In the Brothers Grimm’s first editions of Snow White and Hansel & Gretel, it was the protagonists biological mothers who served as antagonists and they were changed to be Stepmothers because the Brothers held certain beliefs and values about motherhood.

There are only a handful of characters whose fairy tales have actual ‘original’ versions; Cedar (Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi), the Wonderlandians (both Alice books by Lewis Carroll), Nina, Meeshell, and Crystal (all fairy tales written (not collected) by Hans Christian Andersen), and Rosabella (Beauty and the Beast by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot). Also probably Duchess with Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, but there’s whole discussions and theories about its origins and the libretto it was based on (I personally would consider it the original but, y’know, opinions opinions).

But also. Do the original or earliest versions of these tales matter all that much? They can be good bases on what we can guess would be the characters’ destinies but in Ever After High, we know that the stories aren’t entirely set in stone. Characters who should’ve died were able to live and have offspring, like the Candy Witch. Much like how the fairy tales change and adapt in real life, they do so in the Ever After High world. “Ramona will have to eat Cerise” “Hunter will have to kill Ramona” maybe. Or maybe not. Red Riding Hood and Professor Badwolf are living examples of playing through the story without either of the major characters dying. Apple’s hair is blonde despite Snow White’s hair traditionally being black, Cedar is cursed to tell the truth despite lying being one of Pinocchio’s infamous traits. Are these divergences received well? No, but it’s not seen as the complete destruction of the destiny system until Raven outright refuses to play her part.

I kind of forgot where I was going with this lmao. Umm don’t treat the ‘early’ or ‘original’ versions of the tales like a set of rules I guess. Have fun like every other person who’s adapting a fairy tale (like the eah writers themselves lol). Go crazy go stupid. I’m very tired and yapping about nothing

[callooopie]

The night, she calls me.. // Vampire!HOTD men

Come with me to the other side. Make the girl in black your bride — The Night // Aurelio Voltaire

It took all my willpower to not make this like a What We Do in the Shadows bit. No one asked for this either.. so that’s why I’m writing it. Is this gonna be a series of headcannons? No… no. No no… no no nono. I’ve started tooooo many writing projects I cannot… or can I 😏 (I actually can’t I have too many requests I need to lock in on)

Did you know what land you were walking on? Did you see the figure watching you from the top floor window? Was that a shadow you saw out the corner of your eye?

Davos Blackwood // Bloody Lord of Raventree Hall

A manor buried in the dark forests of Blackwood Vale, an urban legend surrounded the woods and the semi-ghost town beside it. Locals would talk of a figure that walked the empty streets at night, and the older residents would sometimes speak of an old estate once owned by a wealthy family that could be found in the heart of the forest. But no one has seen this place, or perhaps no one has ever returned alive to tell the tale.

The ever playful lord of Raventree Hall likes toying with his victims before they meet their bloody demise. If a fool ever gets lost on his land, Davos will follow them around in the form of a raven, acting as if he was leading them to the help they desperately called out for. Some would fall for it; the ‘guiding’ corvid that had brought them to this dusty manor. Little did they know, they wouldn’t be leaving that place.

He’s the type to make Raventree Hall look appealing and safe to the unwitting person, sometimes even playing the part of a humble boy who lives in his family’s old home. He’d learn all about a person as he feeds them food, bloody meat cooked to perfection for any human. Eat up, Davos would say, it’s a good cut of meat.. he’d hate for it to go to waste. Oh? The red wine tastes metallic? Strange.. perhaps a bottle gone bad?

He’d keep his lover human, not out of admiration of their humanity—but as more of a ‘pet’. The only reason Davos would turn a human into a vampire would be for his own entertainment purposes. It’s more fun when you can handle him and not pass out every time he does something. Plus, he wants the security of knowing you won’t be leaving him anytime soon. Forever stuck by his side, living forever in a world of night and pleasure by his doing and his doing alone.

Before you become his lovely lady, perhaps you’re one of those lost souls who stumble upon the estate. Either by poor luck or poorer fortunes, you catch the attention of Davos. He scares you from the shadows, setting candles alight with just a gust of wind, slamming doors and sending phantasms to spook you with howls and haunting steps, sending ravens and crows to caw and peck at you. It’s only when you get to the main atrium of the manor does he strike. A sinister smile on his pale face as he lunges at you from out of nowhere, teeth sinking into the skin of your neck as hands travel up and down your torso.

A master of shadows and tricks, Davos isn’t one to meet his adversaries head on. He doesn’t think they deserve his attention. He can deal with vampire hunters and celebrity ghost hunters with a wave of his hand from his bed chambers at the very top of the manor. He can make it as if ghouls are chasing around those idiots, birds seemingly attacking them on sight, if he’s feeling funny he might summon a demon or two. Why does he have the title of bloody lord? Well, he’s just a messy eater, and the corpses he leaves behind are unrecognizable from what they once were.

Jacaerys Velaryon // Draconic Prince of the Night

The picturesque village that the castle of Dragonstone sits next to has gained a plethora of tourists. However, no one has ever been allowed inside. From a mixture of local superstition, and simply because the wooden gates and doors will not open. Nothing can break, or even burn, the wood. Cursed or blessed, many have stayed away from that castle said to have been forged by dragon fire.. if local legends are to be believed.

Local legends also speak of how beautiful women are kidnapped from their homes and beds, never to be seen ever again. As a tourist, you believe you’re safe.. and you don’t really believe in those tales.. at least you don’t believe them until you awaken in a bed that’s not the hostel’s.

Jacaerys is a vampire who is easily bored. He wants someone who’ll keep up with him. A pretty princess to take care of and to simply sit like a doll, but also one who has a bit of wit and brain to them. Someone to go hunting with, or to fly around in the dead of night together. Someone to chase, someone to have intellectual conversation with.

A little more serious than a certain bloodthirsty lord, Jacaerys will turn his lover almost immediately. What’s the use in keeping you human and mortal? There is no use! Now you’re just like him, and you two can bond and be merry together in that lonesome stone castle. All the others he had spirited away were awfully dull, perhaps you will be different?

Like a dragon, he hoards his treasures. He’ll keep you close, too close almost. Jacaerys will hand feed you blood, lifting someone’s arm up to your mouth and praising you for dining on the thick liquid and flesh. He’ll hover near you, you two are royalty after all. It’s good for a prince like him to check up on his princess. He’ll dress you in gold and red fabrics, or maybe nothing at all! Jacaerys does like it when you’re only clad in gold and gems, sit yourself down on his mountains of treasure and make your nest; he’ll show he’s a good dragon who takes care of his mate.

A scholar of dragon magic, the only thing that can destroy his castle is what made it in the first place. Dragon fire. And dragons died out long long ago sweet thing (or never existed at all…). He’s perhaps the only one that remains! Believe whatever you will, Jacaerys will happily prove to you that dragons are real. And you believe it as you watch him transform into one to deal with trespassers who had somehow broken into the castle. Sure there’s ways in if your crafty enough, but what people don’t say is that there’s no way out once you’re in. The charred piles of bones that litter the treasure room are a testament to that.

Cregan Stark // Vampiric King in the North

Perhaps the only one out of the trio to be semi-normal. An urban legend surrounds the snowy mountains of a large wolf that leads lost wanderers to an empty yet warm and alive stone keep. It’s said if you stay for one night and leave the next day, you’ll find your way back to civilization. However, overstay your welcome and you won’t be heard from ever again…

Your car had broke down, and you hadn’t expected such a large snowstorm to sweep through. You’re on the brink of hypothermia, however you spot something in the distance. The howl of a wolf reaching your ears as the wild beast walks toward you. It almost seems to gesture toward you with its head, beckoning for you to follow. You’ve heard this legend, and so when you find yourself in the safety and warmth of a stone fortress you do your best to remain courteous and respectful. The plan was to leave in the morning, however when you try to open the large wooden door to leave—it slams shut on you before locking tightly.

Cregan likes your humanity, wishing only to learn from you. He would not covet you like a prize, nor would he treat you like a pet. To turn you without your consent? Unfathomable. If you wish to be turned, he would gladly do so at your request. Although he would tell you what you’ll miss, what you will be letting go of in exchange for this eternal life of coldness and blood. Perhaps it’ll all be worth it in the face of his love and companionship?

Teach him everything about you, and he’ll teach you all he knows. Cregan’s an old soul who’s lived more lifetimes than he can remember. He’s powerful, ancient; that uppity prince and cocky lord answer to him! He’s their overlord, they are his mere sons subordinates. All that aside, Cregan has vast collections of knowledge from throughout the ages. Although do remember, he scratches your back, and you will scratch his. Or he’ll show you what happens to those who’ve forgotten such an important lesson.

Unlike his underlings, Cregan can control his appetite for blood. He’s learned, and so he keeps a stockpile of it. Some of it ages like wine in a cellar, other bottles he keeps near and close. A special cabinet is reserved for special blood of course. What? You’ve never tried the blood of a priest? It’s heavenly.

Unlike the other two, Cregan lives more on red meats. Which he can get from almost anything. Although due to the coldness of the region, not many animals venture out. For a special occasion, you’ll find your plate full of fresh organs and fatty raw meat. A glass of thick red liquid right next to your plate. Cheers and eat your fill, it’s fresher than fresh. And who knows when an unsuspecting person will come up these mountains again?