#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!

[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

[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

[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?

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Where Kings Land

Part 1

Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark! Reader

a.n: I finally get the hype about Jace. This right here is one fine man. the hair, the freckles, the big nose. ALL of it. this is part 1 of the miniseries for House of the Dragon, and it's my first time writing outside of the regular asoiaf series. Enjoy and please lmk what you think!!

Warnings: manipulation, not proofread, yelling, cursing? talk of beheading and treason.

Word Count: 4,900

masterlist link

summary: In the harsh lands of the North, where winter's bite is ever-present, a tale of duty, desire, and deception unfolds within the ancient walls of Winterfell. Y/N Stark, sister to the absent Lord Cregan, finds herself caught in a web of political intrigue as the realm teeters on the brink of civil war.

...

The heavy wooden door slammed behind her with a resounding thud, echoing through the granite corridors of Winterfell. Y/n Stark—sister to the Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark—strode purposefully down the hallway, her frustration evident in every step. The torches lining the walls cast flickering shadows across her face, highlighting the furrow of her brow. She yanked her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders, warding off the perpetual chill that seeped through the ancient stones. The servants scurried out of her path, lowering their eyes as she passed. Y/n barely noticed them, her mind occupied with the litany of tasks that lay before her. The castle, a sprawling behemoth of grey stone and timber, was a living, breathing entity, and Y/n felt the weight of its responsibilities press down on her.

Cregan, her brother, was a warrior, a leader born to the battlefield. He thrived on the thrill of the hunt, the clash of steel, the shouts of battle. The day-to-day running of Winterfell, the endless paperwork, the constant negotiations, the delicate dance of alliances and diplomacy… these fell upon his shoulders. He was a silent force, a steady hand guiding the ship through the turbulent seas of politics and power.

Reaching the grand hall, Y/n paused, her gaze sweeping over the gathered lords and ladies. Their conversations buzzed like a hive of bees, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceiling. She longed to be amongst them, to share in the joy of a feast, to ease the burden of her thoughts, but the weight of the impending winter hung heavy on her heart.

The biting wind whipped around Y/n's face as she ascended the final steps to the maester's tower. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and old magic, a familiar and comforting aroma despite its inherent chill. Inside, the room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern, casting long shadows across the piles of scrolls and tomes that littered the floor. Y/n's boots clicked against the stone floor, a sharp counterpoint to the rustle of the raven that perched on the window sill, its beady eyes fixed on her with an unsettling intelligence. The bird was a harbinger of news, always, and today, its arrival had filled her with a sense of foreboding dread.

“You've got ravens in your hair,” the maester, Alyn, said with a dry chuckle, his voice raspy from years of whispering secrets into ancient texts. He was a frail figure, his fingers gnarled and stained with ink, his eyes filled with a wisdom that seemed to encompass the entirety of the world. She brushed at her hair, dislodging a stray feather that had become entangled in its braids. 'They know I'm coming for them,' she said, her voice tight. 'They always seem to.'

Alyn nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. 'King's Landing sends more than its fair share of worries north,' he said, gesturing to the table in the centre of the room. It was an imposing piece, carved from ancient oak, the surface groaning under the weight of a mountain of sealed parchments. Y/n sighed, letting the weight of the responsibility settle upon her shoulders. Every one of those scrolls contained a new burden, a new demand, a new headache she would have to unravel. The North had always been harsh, a land of unforgiving winters and fiercer people.

'What's the news, maester?' she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alyn shuffled through the pile of scrolls, his gaze searching for a particular one. “They're now threatening us with dragon fire, my lady,” he stated solemnly, the chain around his neck clinking softly.

Y/n's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the pile of letters that lay on the table before her. Her jaw clenched, her anger rising like a tide. “Burn them,” she commanded, her voice sharp and decisive. “Burn all the letters. We will not answer, nor will we cower.”

Alyn's eyebrows rose in surprise, but Y/n's resolve only grew stronger. “Prince Jacaerys should be here any day. We will make good with the Blacks.”

Maester Alyn leaned back in his chair, studying her face. 'Are you certain, my lady? This is a dangerous game we play. The Green's dragons—"

“Are no more fearsome than the winter that forged us,” Y/n cut him off. She moved to the window, gazing out over the frost-covered courtyard. “My brother may be in the north of the Wall, but we will not be cowed by southern threats.”

Her words echoed through the frigid halls, carrying with them a resolute determination that belied her youth. “You are right, my lady,” he said at last.

Y/n turned to him, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Maester Alyn. Please, have the letters burned. We must prepare for the prince's arrival. We’ll show him true Northern hospitality. And maester," she added, a hint of a smile playing at her lips, "make sure we have plenty of that strong northern ale. We'll need it for the toast when we pledge our support to Queen Rhaenyra."

Maester Alyn nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reached for the candle on his desk, ready to carry out her orders. "As you wish, my lady. there's one more," he said softly, holding out a sealed parchment. "It arrived separately... and it's addressed to you personally."

Y/n hesitated, then took the letter. The seal bore the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, but something about it seemed different. More... personal. With a swift motion, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the contents, and her face hardened.

"It's from Aegon," she said, her voice tight. She began to read aloud:

"My dearest y/n,

The silence between us cuts like shards of Valyrian steel, slicing through my soul. Do you remember the stolen moments in the godswood, under the watchful eyes of the old gods? The promises we made beneath the heart tree?I await your reply to our ravens with bated breath, much as I once awaited your stolen glances across the great hall.

But make no mistake, my white wolf. Your beauty will not shield the North from my wrath should you choose wrongly. Aemond grows impatient and Vhagar hungers for blood. With one word, we could reduce Winterfell to nothing but ash and bone.

Remember this, my sweetling: fire destroys ice. And dragons do not forgive.

Choose wisely. Choose me.

Yours in fire and blood, Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm"

y/n’s hand shook as she finished reading, her knuckles white where she gripped the parchment. The maester watched her, concern etched on his weathered face.

"My lady," he began cautiously, "what—"

"Burn it," Y/n interrupted, her voice cold as the Wall itself. "Burn it with the rest." She tossed the letter onto the pile, her eyes blazing with a fury to match any dragon's flame.

…

Amidst the icy grip of the winter, the last traces of sunlight had long since disappeared beyond the horizon when a thunderous beating of dragon wings shattered the bleak silence. Y/n stood in Winterfell's snowy courtyard, her chilled breath leaving clouds in the frigid air as she looked up to witness the dark shape descending from the sky.

With ethereal grace surprising for its size, the dragon landed with a resounding thud and steam rising from its scales as they met the frosty ground. As its rider dismounted, y/n found herself frozen in place, her carefully prepared greeting dying on her lips.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon strode towards her, his Valyrian features softened by Stark coloring. Dark curls framed his face, windswept from the flight. But it was his eyes that caught y/n off guard - soft and kind, yet holding a depth that spoke of burdens she had yet to find out.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away. Y/n's heart raced as she stood before the prince, a stranger yet somehow familiar. She couldn't explain the sudden pull she felt towards him, as if they shared a connection beyond words. But at the same time, fear and doubt crept in, questioning if this was all just a dream or a cruel trick of fate.

Jacaerys approached, his movements as graceful as the dragon he rode. His brow furrowed slightly at her silence. He glanced around, perhaps wondering if he'd made some misstep. Finally, he bowed low, breaking the spell. "Lady Stark," he said, his voice a low, warm timbre that sent a shiver down her spine. " I am honored to meet you. And I thank you for your hospitality."

Y/n blinked, suddenly aware of the eyes of the entire courtyard upon them. She straightened, pulling her mask of cool composure back into place. "Prince Jacaerys," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Winterfell welcomes you. Please, come inside where it's warm. We have much to discuss."

As she turned to lead him into the castle, Y/n caught the prince studying her with curiosity. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging look of her own. Whatever this feeling was, she couldn't afford to let it distract her. The fate of the North hung in the balance.

Yet as they walked, she couldn't help but be acutely aware of his presence just behind her, like the warmth of a flame at her back in the cold northern night.

…

The Brown Room lived up to its name, with rich walnut paneling and fur-draped chairs that spoke of comfort in the face of long northern nights. Y/N led Jacaerys inside, the scent of beeswax candles and old parchment greeting them. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cluttered table where ledgers and letters vied for space.

Y/N gestured to a high-backed chair. "Please, sit," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She reached for a decanter, the crystal cool against her fingers. "Would you care for some wine, my Lord? It's a Dornish red – my favorite one."

Jacaerys settled into the chair, his eyes roaming the room before settling on Y/N. "Thank you, my lady. And please, call me Jace."

As she poured, a drop of wine escaped, staining the cuff of her sleeve crimson. Y/N barely noticed, too aware of Jace's proximity, the warmth radiating from him in the cool room.

"What did you wish to discuss, my lady?" Jace broached softly, accepting the goblet with a nod of thanks.

Suddenly, the room felt stifling. Y/N's heavy fur cloak, a necessity in Winterfell's drafty halls, now seemed unbearable. She shed it, draping it over the tall oak chair behind her. The firelight caught the silver direwolf clasp as it settled.

"Our support," Y/N replied, forcing herself to meet Jace's gaze. His eyes, she noticed, were flecked with gold in the candlelight. She swallowed hard and continued, "We have two thousand men. Strong northern fighters. We call them Winter Wolves."

Jace leaned forward, interest piqued. "Winter Wolves? An apt name, I'd wager."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "Indeed. They're as fierce as their namesake and twice as loyal." She moved to the table, rifling through the papers until she found a particular map. As she spread it out, the familiar scent of ink and parchment helped ground her.

"Here," she pointed, "is where we've gathered them. They await only my brother's word - or mine, in his absence."

Jace stood, moving to study the map. His arm brushed Y/N's as he leaned in, and she caught a whiff of leather and something else - perhaps the lingering scent of dragon scales. Jacaerys studied the map closely, tracing his fingers over the different markings and symbols. He was impressed by the precision and detail of the Winter Wolves' gathering points.

"Your brother must be a formidable leader to have gathered such a force in such a short time," Jace remarked, straightening up and turning to face Y/N.

"Yes, he is," Y/N said with pride.

"This is... more than we dared hope for," Jace admitted, his voice low and warm.

Outside, a wolf howled in the distance, a lonely sound that seemed to echo Y/N's inner turmoil. She squared her shoulders, pushing away the unwelcome feelings. Jace's brow furrowed as he studied Y/N's face. "My lady, are you well? You seem... flushed."

Y/N startled, realizing she'd been staring. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, painfully aware of the dampness at her temples. "I'm fine, my- Jace," she corrected herself. "I was... under the weather a few days ago. Nothing serious."

Jace's eyes softened with concern. Jace's hand hovers near Y/N's elbow, his fingers poised as if ready to reach out and catch her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and she can sense the electricity between them, even though he's not quite touching her. "Perhaps you should sit. We needn't discuss everything tonight."

The gentleness in his voice made Y/N's heart flutter. She sank into a nearby chair, Jace following suit. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, giving her his full attention. His eyes were pools of liquid silver, soft and caring as they searched Y/N's face.

"Tell me," he said softly, "how are you truly faring? It can't be easy, managing the North in your brother's absence."

Y/N's carefully constructed walls began to crumble under his earnest gaze. "It's... challenging," she admitted. "Especially with the constant stream of demands from King's Landing."

Jace's expression darkened. "Ah, yes. I've heard whispers of Aegon's... correspondence."

Y/N couldn't hide the flash of frustration that crossed her face. "Correspondence," she scoffed. "Threats, more like. Your cousin seems to think he can bully the North into submission."

"My cousin," Jace said, his voice low and intense, "forgets that winter roses have thorns." He reached out, this time taking Y/N's hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through her. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "You needn't face this alone, my lady."

Y/N found herself lost in his eyes, warm and sincere. "I... thank you, Jace," she murmured.

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. Jace glanced at the flames, then back to Y/N, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. "You know, where I come from, they say the dragonfires pale in comparison to the warmth of a northern welcome."

Despite herself, Y/N laughed. "Is that so? And how does our hospitality measure up?"

Jace's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, his touch feather-light. "Oh, it exceeds all expectations, my lady. Though I must confess, I find myself most warmed by present company."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn, but for once, she didn't mind the heat. A small smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips as she gazed into his captivating eyes. "You're quite the charmer, Prince Jacaerys."

"Only when properly inspired," is all he replied.

…

The pale light of dawn crept over Winterfell's stone walls, casting long shadows across the frosted courtyard. Y/N stood in the stables, her breath visible in the crisp morning air.

Her fingers, slightly numb from the cold, worked methodically on the leather straps of her horse's saddle. The familiar motions were soothing - tighten, adjust, check, repeat. The rich scent of hay and horse sweat mingled with the earthy aroma of leather oil.

As she worked, Y/N caught herself glancing repeatedly towards the castle, anticipation building in her chest.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her heart quicken. Jace appeared in the stable doorway, silhouetted against the brightening sky. He stifled a yawn, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Y/N noticed the slight disarray of his dark curls and felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to smooth them.

"My lady," Jace greeted, his voice husky with sleep. He cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile. "You're up early."

Y/N felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "The North waits for no one, Your Grace," she replied, handing him a set of reins. Their fingers brushed, and Y/N pretended not to notice the warmth that spread from the point of contact. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

As they set out, the rhythmic clop of hooves against cobblestone gave way to the muffled thud of earth. The misty woods enveloped them, tendrils of fog curling around the horses' legs. Droplets of dew clung to Y/N's eyelashes, refracting the weak sunlight into tiny prisms.

Y/N led the way, her posture relaxed and confident in the saddle. She navigated the invisible path with ease, ducking low-hanging branches and steering around hidden roots. Behind her, she could hear Jace's horse snorting softly, its rider muttering gentle reassurances.

"I can hardly see the path," Jace called out, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Y/N twisted in her saddle, catching Jace's eye with a mischievous glint in her own. "That's because there isn't one," she replied, allowing a rare, playful smile to cross her features.

The forest was a symphony of morning sounds. Birds trilled their dawn chorus, their songs echoing through the mist-shrouded trees. Small creatures rustled in the underbrush, sending leaves skittering across the forest floor. The earthy scent of damp soil and pine needles filled the air, punctuated by the occasional whiff of wild mint when Y/N's horse trampled a hidden patch.

Hours seemed to pass as they wound their way through the increasingly dense forest. Y/N found herself hyper-aware of Jace's presence behind her. She could feel his eyes on her back, and fought the urge to glance over her shoulder more often than necessary.

Finally, they came upon a rocky outcropping. Y/N dismounted with practiced grace, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. She patted her horse's flank, murmuring soft words of thanks. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jace dismount, noting the slight stiffness in his movements after the long ride.

Jace stretched, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. His brow furrowed as he surveyed their surroundings. "My lady," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "I hate to question your expertise, but this looks suspiciously like a dead end."

Y/N's laugh echoed off the rocks, startling a nearby bird into flight. "Patience, Your Grace," she said, her eyes twinkling with secret knowledge. "The best treasures are often hidden."

She reached out, taking Jace's hand in hers. His palm was warm against her cool fingers, and she felt a flutter in her stomach at the contact. Pushing the feeling aside, she led him towards what appeared to be a solid rock face.

As they drew closer, a narrow opening revealed itself, barely visible unless one knew exactly where to look. Y/N squeezed through first, tugging Jace along behind her. The passage was tight, the rough stone scraping against their shoulders. Cool, damp air enveloped them, carrying the faint mineral scent of underground water.

Jace's breath was warm on the back of Y/N's neck as they inched forward in the dim light. She was acutely aware of his presence, of the way his chest occasionally brushed against her back in the narrow confines.

Suddenly, the passage opened up. Y/N stepped aside, allowing Jace to fully enter the cavern. She watched his face intently, savoring the moment his eyes widened in awe.

Sunlight streamed through an opening high above, illuminating a spectacular waterfall. The water, tinted an ethereal light blue by minerals in the rock, cascaded down in a thunderous rush before crashing into a pool below. Mist rose from the impact, creating tiny rainbows where the light hit just right.

"By the gods," Jace breathed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the falls. He turned to Y/N, wonder written across his features. "It's incredible."

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his reaction. "Welcome to my secret place," she said softly, suddenly feeling shy. "Not even Cregan knows about this."

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her, something unspoken passing between them. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he said, his voice low and sincere.

They settled on a smooth rock near the pool's edge, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The mist from the falls cooled their skin, a welcome relief after the long ride. Y/N pulled out a small bundle from her saddlebag - bread, cheese, and a flask of sweet northern ale.

The conversation lulled, replaced by the constant rush of the waterfall. Y/N traced patterns in the damp sand with a stick, her eyes distant. Jace watched her, noting the slight furrow in her brow.

"A copper for your thoughts, my lady?" he asked softly.

Y/N looked up, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Just thinking about duties," she said. "They never seem to end, do they?"

Jace nodded, understanding in his eyes. "The burden of our birthrights," he agreed. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be free of them."

"Free," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the mist between them. She sighed, tossing the stick into the pool. "Cregan writes often of my duties. He's pressuring me more and more to find a husband."

Jace's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I... I apologize if I'm intruding, but may I ask why you haven't? Surely you've had no shortage of suitors."

Y/N met his gaze, finding unexpected comfort in the warmth she saw there. "Because I want love," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want a simple life, filled with moments like this." She gestured to the cavern around them. "But how can I promise forever to someone when tomorrow is so uncertain? How can I build a life amidst a war?"

Jace was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "Love in wartime," he mused. "It's not an easy path, but perhaps... perhaps it's the very thing that makes the fight worthwhile."

Y/N felt her heart quicken at his words. "And what of you, Prince Jacaerys? What does your heart seek in these troubled times?"

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her. "I seek a partner," he said quietly. "Someone to stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who understands duty but hasn't lost sight of dreams." He paused, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Someone who knows the value of secret waterfalls and stolen moments."

The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken possibility. Y/N felt drawn to him, like a moth to flame, but held herself back. This was not the time, not with so much at stake.

"It seems we both seek something rare and precious," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Jace nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Perhaps the gods will be kind," he murmured.

…

The iron-bound gates of Winterfell groaned open, admitting Y/N and Jace as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke, punctuated by the sharp tang of approaching frost. Their horses' hooves clattered against the worn cobblestones, the sound echoing off the ancient stone walls.

As they dismounted, Y/N felt the day's exertion in her muscles, a pleasant ache that spoke of adventure and freedom. She caught Jace's eye, noticing how the fading light caught the silver threads in his jerkin, making them shimmer like starlight.

"Jace," she began, her voice low and tinged with an emotion she dared not name, "today was—"

"Lady Y/N! Lady Y/N!" The frantic shout shattered the moment like a stone through ice.

Y/N's transformation was instantaneous and mesmerizing. Her shoulders squared, chin lifting as if an invisible crown had settled upon her brow. The softness in her eyes hardened to flint, sharp enough to cut.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice crisp as a midwinter morning.

The guard skidded to a halt before them, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "My lady, there's been... an incident. You're needed urgently."

Y/N nodded curtly. "Lead on," she commanded, then turned to Jace. "Your Grace, I must attend to this. Perhaps we could speak later..."

Jace stepped forward, close enough that Y/N could smell the leather of his riding gloves and a hint of something spicy—cloves, perhaps. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to accompany you.”

Y/N hesitated, then inclined her head in agreement. They followed the guard, their footsteps echoing through Winterfell's torch-lit corridors. The warmth of the castle was a stark contrast to the chill outside, yet Y/N felt a different kind of coldness settling in her bones.

They entered a small, dim room that reeked of fear and desperation. A man knelt on the floor, the rattle of his chains a counterpoint to his broken sobs. In the flickering torchlight, his tear-stained face looked ghastly, almost skull-like.

"What has he done?" Y/N's voice cut through the room like a blade.

The man looked up, his eyes wide and pleading. Y/N's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a blade, her words sharp and filled with accusation. The man shrunk back in his seat, his eyes wide and pleading as he desperately tried to defend himself.

"My lady," he stammered, "I beg you... I was only going to King's Landing, to pledge myself to King Aegon, my children. Is that such a crime?" His voice trembled with fear and uncertainty, his hands shaking as he awaited her judgement.

Y/N's gaze bore into him, seeking any sign of deceit or treachery. Observation seemed to be her weapon of choice, and she wielded it with expert precision. Y/N's lips thinned. "If you wished to leave, you could have done so freely. We do not hold men against their will in the North. Or have you forgotten our ways so quickly?"

The guard cleared his throat, the sound like gravel underfoot. "There's more, my lady. He attempted to steal half the winter rations and one of our best horses. Caught him in the act, we did."

The man's sobs crescendoed. "You can't behead an innocent man!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "You and Lord Cregan, you'll be the death of House Stark! The North will remember this betrayal!"

Y/N stood motionless, but Jace saw the almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw, the slight tremor in her clenched fists. The room fell silent save for the man's ragged breathing and the soft hiss of the torches.

Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to keep her composure. Jace watched as Y/N stood motionless, her face a mask of stoic determination, but he could see the anger burning in her gaze.

"Send him to the Wall," Jace suggested, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through Y/N's chest. "It's a harsh sentence, yes, but one that allows him to redeem himself in service to the realm."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes unreadable in the dim light. "Or I could let him go," she mused, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then, what message would that send? That theft and betrayal go unpunished in the North?"

"Take his fingers, my lady," the guard interjected. "It's an old punishment, aye, but effective. He'd bear the mark of his crime, but keep his life and limbs... most of them, at least."

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, and in that moment, Jace saw the weight of the North resting on her shoulders. When she opened them again, they gleamed with resolve.

"You've given me much to consider," she said, her voice steady as the foundations of Winterfell itself. "I'll not make this decision in haste. Guard, take him to the cells. See that he's fed and given water. I'll pass judgment when the sun rises."

As the guard led the prisoner away, his pleas fading down the corridor, Y/N turned to Jace. The torchlight cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp planes of her cheekbones and the weariness in her eyes.

Jace moved towards Y/N, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, a welcome warmth against the coldness that had nestled in her chest. He spoke gently, never breaking eye contact with her. "You carry your burden with grace, my lady," he murmured, his voice deep and soothing.

Y/N held his gaze for a moment, allowing herself to bask in the comfort of his words. But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. She took a step back, "Grace," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Grace is a luxury, Your Grace. In the North, we survive on harsher virtues."

Her eyes, once warm and inviting, now held a wintry gleam. The soft curves of her face seemed to harden, as if the very stone of Winterfell was seeping into her bones. With those words, Y/N turned away, her cloak swirling around her like a shroud. As she walked deeper into the shadows of Winterfell's halls, Jace was left with the unsettling feeling that he'd glimpsed not just the Lady of Winterfell, but a portent of the harsh days to come.

The torches guttered in a sudden draft, and for a moment, the corridor was plunged into darkness. When the light returned, Y/N was gone, leaving behind only the echo of her words and the lingering chill of premonition.

...

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[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*

[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?

[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.

[fatuismooches]

fabulam diu oblitus - prelude.

synopsis: The tale of the raven and the sparrow has long been forgotten by most, but some will always remember.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: This is the first part of a multi-chaptered fic that became too long to put into one post. It is a telling of your and Dottore's life as a fairytale, with fragile reader because yes. Thank you to all of my followers and anons who helped me figure out the animals that should be used and especially my lovely moot @kaixserzz!

prelude. first interlude. second interlude. postlude. sequel.

“Once upon a time, there was a baby raven. The raven was an inquisitive and curious hatchling who wanted to explore things that no one else had ever dared of. But because of his ideas, the raven was beaten, shunned, and cursed for the entirety of his childhood. Eventually, as soon as he reached adulthood, he was chased away from his nest, and from that day on, the raven swore to never trust a single soul ever again. But one day, the raven came across a sparrow, who seemed to love to challenge and test him at every possible moment.”

When Zandik was exiled from his hometown, he thought that he was prepared for what was to come, for he had experienced the worst of what humanity had to offer. He knew better than to give any other person the time of day and resolved himself to be cold and closed off. And he didn’t mind being that way, as everyone at the Akademiya was a sore, shallow disappointment. He wondered if anything of substance ever went through those brains of theirs. Ignoring his classmates had garnered him a poor reputation, but it didn’t bother Zandik too much as he was far more interested in his personal research.

That was until he met you.

You had barged into his life out of nowhere, much to his dismay, and invaded his space, now occupying one of the beds in the dorm. You had greatly sabotaged his workspace and time, as now he had to be conscious of what he worked on in your presence. He had to be careful in his own bedroom because of you. It was positively infuriating. But perhaps the most confusing and annoying thing was your attitude towards him. 

You were… kind. You would smile at him. You would inquire into his studies and research with supposedly genuine interest (he had yet to deduce whether you were being real or not.) You would cook for him and continued to do so even though he had yet to thank you for it. You would run errands for him willingly without any protest. You would shut down anyone talking shit about him immediately.

Zandik didn’t like it.

—

“Despite the sparrow’s kind nature, the raven couldn’t bring himself to accept it. It wasn’t unheard of for ravens to prey on sparrows, and at some moments, sometimes the raven wanted nothing more than to swallow up the sparrow so they wouldn’t be in his hair anymore. But there were no opportunities for the raven to do that, so he was forced to endure the sparrow’s presence. However, he came to realize that the sparrow had far more strengths than he initially gave them credit for. Over time, it blossomed into a most unique relationship, one that should have never been possible.”

Zandik wanted you gone. Your behavior didn’t sit quite right with him, for reasons that weren’t hard to guess. But there was nothing he could do. No amount of harsh words or bickering could seem to deter you. Surely you heard of the rumors? Of what he possibly could have done? Of what he could possibly do to you? And yet you insisted on sticking around, despite his vehement denial of your presence.

Although Zandik didn’t like you, that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate your usefulness. And more recently, your intelligence as well. You didn’t think like the other scholars at the Akademiya. You weren’t short-sighted or close-minded, you were always open to new ideas and discussions. You were willing to listen to him even while he was being rude and made zero sense, always having a notepad handy to write down his words. At first, Zandik thought you were mocking him, but a quick investigation into your notes made it clear that you were one hundred percent serious. 

Naturally, you didn’t think exactly like him either for obvious reasons, but it was… refreshing. That made you far more intelligent in his eyes than any other brain-dead scholar. Yet at the same time, your excessive kindness made him think you were painfully stupid. Especially when his cruel insults and ignorance didn’t drive you away, and at some point you had the audacity to start giggling at him whenever he did so. Very strange, stupid, and smart.

He had dubbed you an enigma. Indeed, you were puzzling and difficult to understand. Normally, he enjoyed the challenge when it came to stuff like ancient texts or questions that arrived from his research, however, he wasn’t sure if he liked these qualities in a person. He liked your curiosity but your personality made him feel things he didn’t want to. But much to his dread, even this scholar wasn’t totally immune to your sweet charms, and he was slowly but surely beginning to warm up to you.

—

“Against all odds, the raven and sparrow became one and the same. It seemed as though the two could not be separated.”

You were always sure it was going to be a long and arduous journey, becoming Zandik’s friend, but you were well aware of what you were getting yourself into. Though even you could not have anticipated how much Zandik would like you, despite it always being your goal. It started off gradually, and it took you a bit to realize his small changes toward you. 

Something you realized was that Zandik enjoyed being genuinely listened to. Perhaps because no one had lent him an ear, or even then never took what he said seriously. Perhaps he was mocked and shut down. So you listened. And he told you more, and more, and more every time. You could be doing your own thing, and Zandik would drag you away from it, under the premise that his work was far more important. The audacity! But you didn’t really mind, except the times he woke you up in the middle of the night to check over his conclusions. 

Even still, it was hard not to find his bursts of excitement and passion cute. It was hard not to find how he inhaled your cooking cute. It was hard not to find his little grunts of approval at your work or the reluctant compliment of “Good, I guess” cute. And oh, and don’t get you started on the way he blushed when you got a little too close, and then promptly told you to fuck off. Zandik was so cute. Unhinged. Not a good or nice person. Mean. But cute. 

Eventually came a time when Zandik stopped trying to get rid of you. He stopped locking you out of the dorm and he stopped throwing insults at you for merely existing with him. Instead came times when you two would “hang out” as you would put it. You’d teach him how to cook but uncharacteristically gave up after one lesson because he was truly that bad. You would do group projects together and then snicker to one another about how the other groups’ work paled in comparison. You two would go out together, initially for the purpose of research, but end up spending some time relaxing in the soft plush of the forest together. No words were said, but perhaps fingers and legs accidentally brushed each other every now and then.

These were good times, Zandik admitted to himself.

—

“Despite their blatant differences, the raven and sparrow seemed to fit together perfectly, wings and beaks tucked into each other effortlessly. Both had accepted each other for who they were, something no one else had done for either of them. Many years passed, and the two developed feelings for each other. However, neither of them was sure how to express their love.”

The good times lasted far, far longer than Zandik could have ever dreamed of. You had remained a constant in his life for many years. He could have never imagined you’d stick around nor would he tolerate your presence for so long. It was now that he realized that there would always be a vast amount of possibilities in this world, ones that he would never believe existed, but they certainly did. You were an example of that.

Another thing he realized was how differently his body and mind could react around you.

Zandik realized, that sometimes his palms could get hot around you. Not sweaty, but hot and tingly. It was a strange sensation. He realized, that when your skin came into contact with his, instead of feeling like he had just been scalded, he simply felt… warmth. Not the overbearing or underwhelming kind. It was just warm. The worst part was, he realized that on very few and rare occasions, his heart would speed up a bit and get stuck in his throat. It was horrible. Zandik despised it.

And his mind, his mind would unconsciously favor you. He would wonder, what time were you coming home? Did anyone bother you? When you didn’t understand something, his mind automatically went to the idea of explaining again (begrudgingly?) instead of leaving you hanging. He hated group projects even more now when they weren’t with you because his mind instinctively knew that other people simply could not hope to compare to you in the slightest. His mind grew in various ways over the years, but this particular aspect… he was confused. This part wasn’t necessarily a hindrance, but it was odd and he couldn’t control it. Zandik preferred to be in control, especially of his own body, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand. 

You, on the other hand, completely understood your own feelings as well as Zandik’s. There was no doubt about it. You were in love with Zandik. Zandik was in love with you. This was the irrefutable truth. You couldn’t determine exactly at what point he began to like you romantically, but you knew you had liked him for years. You were just glad the pining was mutual now because the feelings were starting to weigh heavy on your heart. But now, you found yourself in a plight.

How to finally confess to Zandik.

You really had no idea how to do it. If it was any normal person, you’d probably have an easier time. But no, this was Zandik, which made everything complicated. You had gone through multiple different scenarios in your head, and none of them seemed right. You thought about it, in the morning, during class, while eating, on expeditions, before bed. Yes, the procedure of making Zandik your boyfriend was occupying your mind far more than it should be, embarrassingly enough.

Zandik noticed your continuous contemplative state of mind as well. He wasn’t much of a fan. No, not at all. Did you realize how much of a nuisance it was to be explaining or giving instructions to you and then find out you’re staring into space (which coincidentally happens to be his face) instead? And then he has to snap at you to pay attention and instead, you just give him a silly smile? It was nonsensical. At some point, Zandik had decided this had gone on far too long and demanded you tell him what had occupied your mind so much that it turned you into an airhead. Unfortunately, it was mostly unsuccessful as you two only had a little back-and-forth, with you defending that you were just tired lately and Zandik calling you out on that bullshit. But he let it go.

Was he worried? No, of course not. It was just that having his assistant’s mind not focused on him was entirely bothersome.

… Alright perhaps he was a little worried. Just a little. He didn’t like it when you were troubled.

—

“But thankfully, the sparrow found a moment to show their true feelings. Was it the perfect moment? No, perhaps not. But it became one. And amazingly enough, the odd duo had become an odd couple.”

It was the most average of nights. Really, incredibly average. The two of you were stuck on the floor doing a group project for the past few nights. It was a lot of work, meant for a group of people, but of course, you and Zandik refused to add anyone else to the group, so now you two had been grinding the work together for a while. But neither of you minded. It really was much easier with the two of you anyway.

Right now, Zandik was rambling on about what to add and what to do next and the comparisons and contrasting of the data and a variety of other things. Normal Zandik things, as he pointed and waved his hands to make his point. But all of his words entered one ear and came out the next for you. You were far too busy admiring his beauty.

Zandik didn’t notice your adoring stare, no, of course, he was too caught up in his rambling, but that was okay. You didn’t know what came over you, but an impulsive thought to just make him see came over you. To taste him. To let him taste you. To let him realize the depth of your feelings. To let him realize the extent of his own feelings too.

And so for the first time ever, you cupped Zandik’s cheek, to which his words came to an abrupt stop. He practically swiveled his head around to give you one of those signature looks of his, and he had your hand that was on his cheek in a tight grip around your wrist, nails digging into your skin as an automatic response to such blatant physical touch. It hurt, but that was when you took the opportunity.

After all, it was hard to focus on the pain when his lips were on yours. 

You were kissing Zandik, who was immediately practically screaming into your lips, along the muffled lines of “whadahelareyodoigmph?” And you would have chuckled at his reaction, were it not for how entranced you were by kissing him. It seemed, that after the initial shock, Zandik piped down and also began to process what was happening. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t move away. His grip on your wrist loosened, and you took the chance to intertwine your fingers with his instead before pulling away in satisfaction. Zandik’s face was red and his lip quivered in a half-hearted scowl, probably cursing both you and himself because of the fact he enjoyed a mere kiss that much. But he wasn’t the only one affected. Your own heart was hammering out of your chest as you tried to stop yourself from smiling too widely.

“You know, I’ve…” you paused, trying to control your heartbeat, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” So this was what was occupying that idiot mind of yours, Zandik thinks. How stupid.

Zandik's eyes flickered to yours, bearing a half-hearted glare, and they only said one thing: oh, he hated how easily you made him feel disgustingly weak, and how his fingers tremble in anticipation when you’re near, and how his heart beats far too much for what’s to come next, but oh, he demands that you do it again right now before he goes mad. So you did. You kissed Zandik again, and this time he kissed back.

His pointy teeth grazed your lip as he awkwardly kissed back, clearly unsure of what he was doing. But that was okay. You were probably his first kiss, after all, the idea of doing such a thing with anyone was revolting to him. Before he fell in love with you, of course. Well, this was your first kiss too, but you had read enough books to know what you were doing. You caressed his hair, gently rubbed his arms, and perhaps pushed him down on the bed a bit. It was very nice, to have years of feelings condensed into these kisses.

Neither of you said anything for the rest of the night after the kissing session, the group project now long forgotten. Except when you squeaked in pain since he had the gall to bite down on your lip, then swipe your bloody lip with his tongue deviously. You should have known that Zandik being inexperienced in something only lasts for a short time.

When you two finally went to sleep, Zandik allowed it when you climbed into his bed and delicately placed a hand on his chest, cuddling into him.

—

“The sparrow and raven’s romantic partnership began just like that. Nothing else needed to be said. In all honesty, nothing had changed much between the two who had been friends for years, except for the addition of an overwhelming amount of affection from the sparrow towards the raven.”

You and Zandik were dating now. It was truly a dream come true. Truly a dreamlike moment to randomly kiss his cheek and then watch him become a mixture of flustered and angry at you for doing such things. Truly a dreamlike moment to be able to squeeze his hand under the table when people were talking about him. Truly a dreamlike moment to be able to hold him and caress him all over, to watch his face as he received the love he never received as a child. And truly a… laughable moment as he familiarized himself with holding you, which took much work and effort. 

It was fine though. You were positive your relationship would endure throughout any kind of struggle.

—

“Though, like any kind of relationship, the two sometimes encountered a few bumps and turns that would perhaps set them back. But, these problems never lasted too long because… the sparrow and the raven had unusual ways of solving their problems sometimes.”

Zandik wasn’t very strong. Smart, a definite yes, but his physical abilities weren’t anything special, which was why you took it upon yourself to fight whenever the need arose. So when he came back to the dorms one day with hastily wrapped bandages and cuts and bruises, naturally you were extremely worried.

“Who did this?” He didn’t respond to you as he made his way to the bathroom and you quickly followed after. Zandik was digging through the cabinet for more medical supplies, the previous bandages now lying on the floor.

“Zandik,” you murmured. You knew that people didn’t like him, but you didn’t think it would go to such a physical extent. Most people had the common sense to leave him alone or merely talk about him instead. But now that you thought about it, you had an idea of who it could be. Ugh, those fools from the recent expedition. When Zandik exposed their faulty and false research in front of everyone with ease, they seemed to grow some kind of grudge against him. 

“Zandik, let me see.”

“There’s no need.” You watched as he roughly treated the wounds, his emotions clearly showing in his actions.

“Zandik, I can-”

“I said no,” your lover harshly snapped, gritting his teeth. He was trying to stop himself from saying anything else because he could say things he didn’t mean when he was in this kind of mood.

“Okay then,” you acquiesced and let him be. As much as you wanted to comfort him, it wasn’t a good time now. You needed to give him some space first. But at least when you left the dorm, you had a goal in mind.

You didn’t return until it was pitch black outside, and similarly, all the lights in the dorm’s building were off, so you wandered through the darkness until you reached your room. Ah, the door was unlocked too. Zandik must have left it open for you. You just hoped you didn’t get any blood on the doorknob.

The room was dark. Zandik probably went to sleep early. You went straight to the bathroom to clean up. After all, your hands and clothes were all icky with the blood of your classmates. Flipping on the light and looking at yourself in the mirror, you examined yourself. Good thing you weren’t wearing a nice outfit. And your face, not a single scratch of course. They couldn’t lay a hand on you and they wouldn’t be laying a hand on Zandik ever again.

“Where were you?” The sudden voice nearly made you jump. Zandik was at the doorway. So he was awake.

“Oh, Zandik. Hello. I was simply out with my friends, you know?” You gave him a reassuring smile. Obviously, the scholar knew that was a complete lie. He knew what you had done, he just had trouble understanding why. And how too.

Zandik came up to you and grabbed your hands, surprising you. His watchful eyes checked them thoroughly, the blood not bothering him in the slightest. You were truly unharmed. If you weren’t, he would have done something a lot worse than what you did.

“What, are you worried?” You teased. He seemed to be feeling better. Zandik only huffed in response.

“Why would you do that? Now the Akademiya is going to be behind your back.” Classic Zandik, using negativity to mask his appreciation.

“No, they won’t. Our little friends got beaten up by some Eremites instead. They told me so themselves,” you giggled almost a little crazily at his expression. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Zandik.”

“Even so, it was,” he paused for a quick second to think, “a fruitless waste of time. You could have been helping me instead.” Again, you couldn’t help but laugh at his words. It would really kill him to be truthful for once, huh?

“Look,” you placed both your bloody hands over his own. “You are my boyfriend, are you not?” You cocked your head to the side, waiting for a response to which he nodded. “Precisely. So by that logic, I am yours, and you are mine. And naturally, I like to take care of things that are mine. Especially if that happens to be my brilliant blue-haired scholar,” you smiled. Perhaps you seemed a touch bit possessive. But this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, no, you two belonged to each other after all. Zandik didn’t respond but he unconsciously gripped your hands a little bit tighter.

“Just make sure no one sees you doing the laundry,” he huffed.

“Yes, love~,” you pressed a kiss on his cheek to which he made another grumble but made no effort to stop you. After you two got cleaned up, a restful and peaceful sleep came naturally.

—

“Underneath the moon and stars, the two shared years' worth of memories, touches, and love. Though even the moon couldn’t quite understand this seemingly impossible couple, it still bore witness to their endeavors every night without fail. But one day, tragedy struck. The sparrow fell sick to a terrible illness.”

Your relationship with Zandik had become one of the highlights of your life. Perhaps it seemed like you were too crazed for the man, but what was love if you two weren’t a bit crazy for each other? Your life was truly a joy with this grouchy and easily irritable scholar who went a wee bit soft at affection. Well, that was if you excluded the few ailments you had come down with recently.

It started small at first. 

Seemingly minor things affected you. Perhaps a painful throb in your head that wouldn’t seem to go away, but you passed it off as the stresses of exams and school. Aches and pains when you moved your body, but maybe it was just from sleeping in awkward positions because you kept passing out in the middle of the night after pulling yet another all-nighter with Zandik. Sometimes you felt unusually cold, or perhaps hotter than normal. But you thought it was nothing too big, maybe something was going around in the Akademiya.

That’s what Zandik thought too… at first. You were a strong person, no stranger to fighting whether it was people or Ruin Drakes. You would bounce back. In fact, in the beginning, he thought you were overdramatizing your pain. Groaning and whining and clinging to him in an attempt to convince him to stay in the dorms today instead of going out on this expedition. Of course, he shook you off and rolled his eyes, telling you to hurry up. He didn’t miss the tiny sigh you let out, and the slight twinge in his chest but that was quickly washed over by the thought that you were simply milking your unwell condition in an effort to gain more of his attention. 

He didn’t miss how you were much quieter than usual, leaving his voice to fill the silence as you two walked. He didn’t miss your slow and tired steps, to which you had to ask for him to slow down which he begrudgingly did. And he certainly did not miss when you tripped and nearly fell were it not for him catching you in time.

Zandik was about to scold you for your carelessness but the words died on his tongue at your expression. Dulled eyes and pants, your chest heaving up and down due to the strain. You swallowed before your eyes sparked back to life again, seemingly recovering from that little fall. 

“Sorry,” you smiled at him with a hint of nervousness. “Guess I didn’t get enough sleep.” Yeah, you went to sleep a bit late last night, but it wasn’t a three AM kind of night. It was rather earlier than usual, to be honest. So you really weren’t sure why your body was acting like this. Zandik looked at you, silent and unimpressed, but you think he bought it. After that, you tried to return to your normal chirpy self despite the throbbing of your head. You were saved by the fact that this expedition was only examining plants and fauna for a class instead of the normal expeditions you and Zandik carry out.

It did not get better from then. Zandik surely noticed from the way his usual rude comments gradually turned into silence and quiet help at your genuine condition. He wasn’t stupid. He could tell that you were being real. But it all boiled over one afternoon.

You wanted to ignore your deteriorating state badly. You wanted to pretend that it didn’t exist. If you admitted it to yourself, then everything would be over. For what good were you when you were stuck in bed all day? Not just to yourself, but to Zandik as well? You knew he would never leave you, wouldn’t ever hate you but… still, it bothered and worried you more than you liked to admit. So whenever it was possible, you did some tasks for your lover.

Today’s errand was simple. You’d done it multiple times before. You just had to retrieve some parts Zandik ordered (legally, this time) and bring them back to the dorm. And you had done just that… only with a minor hiccup. Yes, it was only a small setback, being pushed and shoved by some of your classmates who didn’t like you or Zandik. Yes, it was just an insignificant occurrence, your body too weak to fight back and put them in their place like you normally did. And since it was so trivial, you didn’t want Zandik to know. So when you got back to the dorm, you put on your smiling face and acted oblivious, handing your boyfriend the purchase and then scurrying to the bathroom. 

Not to mention, there were some scuffs and marks on your uniform. They looked to be only minor, but Zandik still noticed them immediately. Your uniform was crisp and pristine before you left, after all. And whenever you got into an altercation, you’d tell him every time. This time, however, seemed different. Now that you looked back, you were pretty damn obvious, but your knees were hurting really bad.

The scholar waited a few moments before waiting outside the bathroom door, listening in. What he heard were whines and grunts of pains, and then something falling supposedly from the cabinet, and then a string of curses from you. You were definitely hurt.

“[Name].” His tone was flat and serious, and immediately all noise from the bathroom became nonexistent.

“…Yes?” That tone of voice. You were guilty of something.

“I’m coming in,” he didn’t bother giving you a grace period despite your sputters of protest. Zandik found you near the sink, only in your undergarments, Akademiya uniform discarded to the hamper, now stained with small patches of blood. Knees and elbows scraped and bloody. Instinctively you moved your heads to cover your elbows at least, in an attempt to minimize the severity of the situation… which didn’t really work.

“Oh… hey Zandik!” You smiled nervously. “See this,” you motioned to your injuries, “I just tripped and fell again. No big deal!” You had a good and believable excuse. It was just that your execution of it was really bad and your boyfriend could see through you easily. But he didn’t need you to tell the truth, he already had a hunch as to what happened. Plus, if you truly had fell, the gashes wouldn’t have been so deep.

“...” Zandik seemed expressionless as he went behind you and grabbed the bandages and the necessary supplies to disinfect it, before grabbing your hand and pulling you to the bed. You opened your mouth to argue but closed it again, probably realizing there was no getting out of this. It was eerily quiet as Zandik uncharacteristically treated your wounds with more care than usual. Most of the time, he was rough with it as he scolded you for being dumb, rolling his eyes as you chastised him for being so mean. This time, however, most of the sting was from the liquid cleaning the wound. He finally wrapped the bandage neatly around your knees and elbows, before he broke the silence.

“You’re not leaving the dorm tomorrow.” You snapped your head up at this statement.

“Excuse me? Yes, I-”

“No, you’re not. You’re staying in bed.”

“You can’t decide that for me. I can go where I-”

“Not when you’re like this,” he bluntly stated. It was harsh, but it was the truth, and you knew it. But hearing it like that hurt, even though you knew this was Zandik’s way of looking out for you.

The room was quiet again since you couldn’t argue any further.

And so, you had decided to take a break from going to classes for a while. Well, it was more like Zandik had decided that for you, his words being that it would be a great inconvenience for both of you if you continued to act like this, and so he confined you to bed rest and refused to let you leave. Sure, his expeditions would have to be delayed, he lamented, but it would be a waste of time to go when you weren’t in tip-top shape. So stop being an idiot and fighting him and rest already. You know, Zandik’s typical way of being worried. He even took the time to teach you everything, and of course, keep you updated on how shitty the professors were.

So now, your days consisted of resting in the dorm, sometimes doing homework that Zandik brought home, or your own hobbies. But you did feel bad. You didn’t like sitting around and doing nothing all day long when Zandik had to be by himself now. If you were going to be stuck in the dorm all day, the least you could do is tidy up a bit. And of course, cook for the two of you.

Cooking and sometimes even baking were things you liked, but it became one of your favorite things because of Zandik. It sounded strange, but you liked seeing him well-fed and not living off of his inedible cooking. Today you would make… shawarma wraps. Yes, you were in the mood for that today. And so you got to work preparing and cutting the ingredients. The only problem was… your hands were far more shaky than you wanted them to be. The knife quivered in your hands and now the vegetables were being cut weirdly.

Indeed, it had been harder to steady your hands nowadays, so you tried to go for easier food to prepare. But you really wanted to eat some shawarma wraps today,  so you continued on. If you just focus your hand, then surely the knife would just-

…And now, there was blood spurting onto the countertop and dripping on the floor. Just great. It was like nothing would go your way ever again once you came down with this mysterious illness. You blinked back tears the whole time you clumsily wrapped the cut and cleaned the kitchen. 

It was a horrible feeling really, to suddenly be unable to do things that were once so easy. To have things you once loved doing feel like a daunting chore now. No matter how hard you tried to avoid thinking about your illness, it felt like it was consuming your life now. You didn’t want it to start defining you… but it hurt. So badly, that you didn’t even bother putting up your usual cheerful front that evening. Zandik took one look at your hand and could deduce what happened. He would have scolded you, were it not for your terribly gloomy expression.

Once again, in pure silence, he redressed your wound (which was poorly wrapped by your unsteady hands.) You didn’t want to speak, nor did you want Zandik to speak. You didn’t want any pity or reprimanding right now. You quietly rested your head on his shoulder, requesting nothing more.

—

“From then on, the little sparrow’s condition only went on a downward spiral. It seemed like no amount of rest and medication could hope to help them recover. Slowly, it seemed like they were becoming a shell of their former self… quiet, tired, and closed off. The raven could only watch as his beloved grew farther… and farther… and more distant from him in more ways than one. In fact, it would be more fitting to call the sparrow a butterfly now. Butterflies are beautiful, but transient. They are truly a joy to admire, but if one gets attached, they will only end up in a world of pain as the butterfly leaves them far too soon.”

You had long given up on classes and work. The assignments Zandik brought home were piled up in a corner. Just looking at them made you feel exhausted. You tried to do some every now and then, but how could you focus on school when you felt like you were physically and mentally deteriorating with every passing day? Though, many had no sympathy for your current predicament which was why you found yourself in your current predicament.

Kicked out of the Akademiya. How embarrassing. Yes, you were not joking. They had a letter of expulsion delivered right to your door for being absent and missing too many assignments, and an order to pack all your belongings and leave within a week. You were not very surprised and kind of accepted it. Zandik on the other hand, had a few choice words for the messenger, before slamming the door with a bang. He was much more wildly upset about this than you were, a spew of curses directed towards a multitude of people in the Akademiya came flying out his mouth. He wouldn’t accept this, he said. But both you and him knew there was nothing to be done, especially since they would never listen to an outcast such as himself. So in due time, you found yourself admitted to Sumeru’s local hospital. Zandik’s expression was grim, which you tried to change.

“I know you’re going to miss cuddling up to me at night, dearest,” you teased in an effort to lighten up the mood. “Don’t miss me too much!” Zandik, however, did not have the slightest reaction, which made your smile dim.

“Hey,” your tone dropped a bit. “Don’t look so glum. Otherwise, you’re really going to make me think you can’t live without me.” This particular tease made his eye twitch.

Zandik scoffed, “You overestimate yourself. I am not so helpless that I would need you to be near me at all times. Furthermore, I suggest you be ready for when you come back. We have a lot of work to catch up on.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Oh, how perfect it was, despite all the changes in your life, Zandik never changes, does he? With his harsh words veiled with some kindness underneath, a silent promise to you that he will make you better and you will be healthy again in no time.

“Of course, of course, love. I promise I’ll be ready to be worked to the bone by you after all of this,” you smiled softly. Zandik rolled his eyes, but at that moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

And it… kind of was, for a while. If you ignore the whole context of the situation. You were surprised to see Zandik make time for you every day to visit you in your dreary hospital room, but he did. He would bring you things sometimes, books or puzzles so that your brain wouldn’t get bored. The hospital staff were initially on guard at his presence every day, for his reputation had spread even beyond the Akademiya, but they got used to him after many repeated visits. 

Zandik, on the other hand, didn’t realize how much different you made his life until you were actually gone. He told himself that he could deal with it, that he had done it long before he ever met you, so he would be fine.

He wasn’t.

No longer could he bask in you and everything that came with you. Your brains, your intelligence, your strength, your efficiency, your productivity, your voice, your smile, your laughs, your horrible jokes, your touch, your cuddles, your body - you, you, you. No longer could he call for you and you would be there in an instant, arms swung around his shoulders. No longer could he fall victim to being the taste tester for your new recipes. No longer could he consume your very being… it was driving him mad. He despised how you weren’t at your rightful place at his side.

And he despised how dull your eyes had gotten. For the first few weeks, it was “normal” at least. You’d still be excited to see him. Listen to him. Converse with him. Beg him to stop trying to cook again and just buy takeout. “Normal” things. But now, it was very different. You never outright ignored his presence but, you were far more distant. Barely speaking full sentences, save for the “mhm” and “uh huh” that sounded more forced than anything. Not even mustering the energy to reach out to him or brush your fingers against his You had asked for your bed to be placed right next to a window, and every time he visited, you were in the same position. Staring out the window longingly, gazing down at the city.

And there was nothing Zandik could do. There were no words he could say, no amount of comfort he could provide that would somehow make things better. No, the only thing he could do was solve the issue itself. He was best at that anyway, the scholar and researcher in him paying off. The Akademiya’s libraries were overtaken by him, day and night. No medical text went unread by him. He looked for answers during class lectures. During meals, during the early hours of the morning, and depths of the night. He looked and looked and looked without rest.

But one day, Zandik realized that perhaps he hadn’t taken things seriously enough.

He arrived at your hospital room like any other day, only to see a few nurses crowded around you, fussing and worrying to each other until they saw him, visibly stiffening. It was then his eyes flicked down to your body, which looked… oddly lifeless and unmoving. His brain figured out what this meant before his heart did. One already knew what happened while the other didn’t want to accept it.

“Err…” The nurse fiddled with her clipboard, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, especially to one such as Zandik, “As of today, [Name] has fallen into a coma…” He couldn’t pay attention to the rest of her words. 

The whole world went silent to him at that moment. Everything around him did, as he could only focus on your figure.

—

“With the sparrow now asleep with no signs of waking up, the raven uncharacteristically found himself at a loss.”

Zandik decided it was time to occupy himself with other activities. Like the hospital in the desert he worked at, treating, or rather experimenting on the patients there. It was for a number of reasons. Staying in the empty dorm room without you bothering him every couple of minutes was beginning to drive him more than just mad. Going to the hospital to be greeted by your sleeping body provided nothing but a flurry of negative emotions in him. To curve his growing curiosity and thirst for knowledge. And although Eleazar wasn’t what you were afflicted with, perhaps studying it could provide some insight. 

It was entirely morbid, cruel, and unethical, whatever word one wanted to say would probably fit the bill. Using corpses as material for “medicine”, driving his last remaining patient mad. Yet there was no part of him that felt guilty. That felt bothered. In the end, all he could think about was how satisfying the results of this experiment were. He cured Eleazar. Perhaps he could cure your illness too. Zandik was, in fact, excited.

Zandik continued to visit you every single day to check on you. It wasn’t like the staff cared much at this point. It was then he started keeping dedicated notes on your condition. He wasn’t much of a doctor nor was he experienced in the medical field, but the Akademiya’s library had proven to be more useful than he thought.

He took your vitals. Your heart rate. Temperature. Everything. Everyday. This time he injected you with what he hoped would cure and wake you up. Nothing. There was zero reaction internally and externally. It was a failure. It was frustrating.

Zandik, as a child, was used to being rejected. He never got what he wanted. Which was why as an adult, he made sure he acquired everything he wanted. Regardless of what, why, or how, nothing would stop him. And now that he was hitting that same block again, no matter how hard he tried, he was starting to seriously get irritated. Not at you, but at himself. This happened before, but this time there was also the fact he didn’t have your inquisitive mind or soothing presence to make him feel better.

Not to mention there was also Sohreh. Initially, he managed to tolerate her thanks to your coaching, but now that he had so many things to deal it, he found it harder and harder to deal with the Amurta. She was also the only one who had the decency to send condolences for your current situation, though he brushed her off before she could even get the words out. Yet by some annoying twist of fate, the girl kept popping up randomly around him, whether that was expeditions or group projects together.

When Zandik found his hands around her neck, he wasn’t surprised at himself. He didn’t feel anything at all, actually. On the same day, he went to visit your sleeping body and traced your veins with the same hands that killed your classmate. He wondered if you would feel any different to him if you knew what he’d done. If you would perhaps leave him. From how deeply you were sleeping, it seemed like he would never receive that answer though.

The days that followed were nothing noteworthy unless Zandik’s further spiral into madness and experimentation for both your sake and his innate desire were to be described in-depthly. Soon enough, he was banished from the Akademiya and into the desert. Despite his dislike for that place, it was a hindrance as he still needed somewhere to conduct research… and your body was still in a Sumerian hospital. But no matter, he’d make do.

It was then he met a gray-haired Khaenri’ahn man who offered him something that was too good to pass up and bestowed a name upon him.

Doctor? He was obviously no doctor. At least not one that helps people. Quite the opposite. If you were here, surely you would be laughing and cackling along with him at the irony of that name. But Zandik liked the ring of it.

And so Il Dottore was born. He just wished you were here to see it.

—

“Many, many centuries went by, and the raven progressed with his research in all areas and became akin to a God himself. However, his sparrow remained in a deep sleep and he could only watch as he failed to help his slumbering beloved.”

Dottore was now a man of many feats. To list them all would take a large amount of time, and the only person who would be willing to sit and listen was you. And you kind of did in a way, because for centuries, your sleeping body would be the first one to know about anything. Dottore would tell you of his accomplishments, his failures and successes, his useless co-workers, and how no one could ever compare to the assistant you were to him. And how despite the fact there was no doubt that his research and progress were entirely fulfilling, there was still a distinct emptiness and boredom in his life that only a certain someone could satisfy.

He wasn’t the only one who felt that way. The same conversation was exchanged between him and a segment every day:

“Are there any updates on [Name]’s condition?”

“No, nothing to report, Prime.”

The segments too would bemoan about the situation and wonder when you would wake up. Yet there was nothing that could be done. Countless resources and time had been exhausted on you, yet he had nothing to show for it. The only solution was to wait for you to open your eyes on your own, however long that may take. Dottore would undoubtedly wait though, what was a few more centuries, after all?

—

“But one day, a miracle happened. The bird woke up from their eternal rest, utterly confused and lost.”

Nahida rubbed her eyes and stretched out her body. To think that was only the beginning part of the fairytale! It was truly a long tale, yes, the one of Zandik and [Name]. Yet every part of it was intriguing and left her on the edge of her seat. And what better storytelling was it than to leave it on a cliffhanger?

[artist-ellen]

The Wild Swans

This illustration is inspired by the fairytale "The Wild Swans" (Hans Christian Andersen's version of the tale) which has has a ton of variations like: "Six Swans" or "The Seven Ravens", etc. The basics of the story include a widowed King with 7 to 12 children and an evil stepmother that curses all of the children except the youngest daughter into swans. To save her brothers the youngest is given a terrible task involving nettles. My favorite retelling of this fairytale is easily 'Daughter of the Forest' by Juliet Marillier (I would recommend it for an older teens/adult fiction audience). Have any of you ever read it? Or let me know your favorite version of the fairytale I am always looking for more! :D

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram.com/ellenartistic or tiktok: @ellenartistic

[azure-cherie]

𝑵𝒂𝒌𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

✵ 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄 /𝗞𝗮𝗸𝗮

Crow is the animal associated with krittika , pushya , hasta , jyestha , dhanistha

Crows are associated with being the vahan of shani dev , they are a connecting link between the human world and The spirit world , it is believed that our ancestors come in the form of crows to get food and offer us blessings , it is also believed that the caretaker of the crow will achieve blessings from all gods and reach salvation after death

Mythology and lore :

The black crow, also known as a raven in some regions is said to possess clairvoyance by which he can see different worlds,is the tale of KakBhushundi, mentioned in Tulasi’ Das’s epic poem ‘Ramacharitamanas’. Bhusundi who was an ardent devotee of Ram had no respect or devotion for any representation God other than Lord Ram. His guru sage Lomas tried to correct this attitude by teaching him to develop devotion for nirguna brahman or the formless aspect of God. But Bhusundi ignored his guru’s teachings and kept on worshipping Ram as the Ultimate Truth. In a fit of anger Sage Lomasha cursed Bhusundi to become a crow because of his repeated rejection and arguments against the sage’s guidance and advice. When Lord Ram intervened on behalf of Bhusundi, Sage Lomas relented and recalled Basundi who was now in the form of a crow as ‘KakBhushundi’ or Bhusundi the crow and taught him Ramcharitmanas, stories about Rama’s spiritual journey. Thus KakBhusundi in the form of a crow became the ultimate narrator of the events in the life of Lord Rama. He was also blessed with the ability to travel through time and recreate the story of Lord Rama.

He witnessed a cosmic vision in Rama's mouth, observing millions of suns and moons within, and a vision of the sage himself in Ayodhya within each celestial object. He resided within each of these realms for centuries, and returned from Rama's mouth to find himself return to the same moment in time as he had left. Bewildered, he begged for Rama's salvation, and was promptly blessed with the same. He chose to forever remain in the form of a crow as he had been blessed by his favoured deity in that form.

during the shraddha ceremony or oblation offered to ancestors, a ball of cooked rice ( pind) is offered to the dead ancestor. If crows eat ( touch/peck) it, then it is assumed that the dead ancestor’s soul has been released from his or her bindings with the physical body and has embarked on the continuation of the soul’s journey to the next level of existence. In this rite, crows touching the rice ball is considered auspicious and is also seen as a good omen.they are of particular interest in Tantric narratives and Tantric rituals. In the general Hindu context, the crow is often stereotyped as inauspicious and its role limited to that of vāhana (vehicle of a deity). Conversely, in Tantric ritual manuals, the crow’s sphere of influence is based on a broader concept. Such scriptures imply ominous and ‘dark’ aspects of agency in crows, but they do so in a strikingly different way than Hindu classic mythology. Tantra emphasise an ambivalent potential in crows as beneficial to certain rituals and occasionally incorporate a ‘crow potency’ in ritual instructions.

They are the very powerful healers who are able to locate the shadows that create distress for people and bring blind dark spots to awareness in people so healing can ensue. Spending long periods in the dark gives one this Siddhi.Shuni Kah is the Crow of the Dark Moon who has access to the never regions. He is the one in us to bring the eye to the underground sediment that toxifies our lives. If this unresolved sediment it is left in the unseen world there is no healing.Shuni Kah the Crow and gatekeeper to the world of dreams is the grand healer. Just singing his name is a powerful mantra that causes us to see in the dark.

The entrance to Shuni is through the femminine. His Mother is Chaya, the Shadow Woman, and his father is Surya, the Sun. His Mother was not able to realise her power beside her Husband, the sun, for his glow burned and make her feel overwhelmed and insignificant and so she fled leaving behind her shadow.This signifies how the Feminine is brought into insignificance when the Solar or active force is ruled over her.Having left her Shadow with her husband, Shuni’s mother whilst still pregnant performed prayers and yogic austerity to Shiva under intense heat. Her effort was so great and the heat generated became so hot that her child, Shuni, was burned black.This signifies how heat and tapasya (yogic purifying Fire of austerity) reveals the darkness within the unconscious recesses of one’s being.When Shuni was born and seen in his blackness, his father was shocked at how dark he was refused to recognise him as his child, accusing his wife of being unfaithful. He raged greatly and insulted his wife. Seeing his Mother thus insulted raised Shuni’s wrath. Thus Shuni’s gazes is ever down in the underworld and arouses suffering.He Rides on the Crow and his wife rides on the Swan.One is the bird of the underworld and the other is the bird of the Celestial spheres

The completion of Tantrais known as the Kiss of Crow & Swan.The meeting of opposites.She rides a chariot pulled by crows and has a flag with crow emblem (Kak Dwhajini). She has a voice of howling jackals. Dhumavati

In Celtic mythology, the warrior goddess known as the Morrighan often appears in the form of a crow or raven or is seen accompanied by a group of them. Typically, these birds appear in groups of three, and they are seen as a sign that the Morrighan is watching—or possibly getting ready to pay someone a visit.

In some tales of the Welsh myth cycle, the Mabinogion, the raven is a harbinger of death. Witches and sorcerers were believed to have the ability to transform themselves into ravens and fly away, thus enabling them to evade capture.Odin is often represented by the raven—usually a pair of them. Early artwork depicts him as being accompanied by two black birds, who are described in the Eddas as Huginn and Munnin. Their names translate to “thought” and “memory,” and their job is to serve as Odin’s spies, bringing him news each night from the land of men. For the ancient Greeks, the crow was a symbol of Apollo in his role as god of prophecy. Augury—divination using birds—was popular among both the Greeks and the Romans, and augurs interpreted messages based on not only the color of a bird but the direction from which it flew. A crow flying in from the east or south was considered favorable.Genesis tells us that after the flood waters receded, the raven was the first bird Noah sent out from the ark to find land. Also, in the Hebrew Talmud, ravens are credited with teaching mankind how to deal with death; when Cain slew Abel, a raven showed Adam and Eve how to bury the body, because they had never done so before.Philo of Alexandria (first century AD), who interpreted the Bible allegorically, stated that Noah's raven was a symbol of vice, whereas the dove was a symbol of virtue (Questions and Answers on Genesis 2:38)In the Story of Bhusunda, a chapter of the Yoga Vasistha, a very old sage in the form of a crow, Bhusunda, recalls a succession of epochs in the earth's history, as described in Hindu cosmology. He survived several destructions, living on a wish-fulfilling tree on Mount Meru.[24]

The Lesser Key of Solomon: Goetia, The Book of Evil SpiritsStolas, the 36th demon in the pantheon, will first appear as a raven when summoned. Once he becomes a man, he teaches the arts and astronomy, as well as the properties of precious stones and the healing properties of herbs. Malphas, the 39th demon, appears as a crow and won’t change form until ordered. In his human form, he can build homes and fortifications and can give his summoner a familiar

Raven overheard the old man talking to himself about a box he possessed. The box contained a series of ever-smaller boxes, and inside the smallest box was all the light in the world—which Raven decided to steal.There seemed to be no door into the house, so Raven waited until the man’s daughter went to a nearby stream, then changed himself into a hemlock needle in the water, which the girl drank. Raven changed himself into a baby once he was inside her, and once he was born (an odd-looking half-bird, half-boy creature whose true nature was hidden by the darkness), he demanded to be allowed to play with the boxes. One by one, Raven demanded the first box, then the second, and so on. Finally, he convinced his grandfather to open the innermost box and let him play with the ball that was the light. As soon as Raven had the light, he took off with it gripped in his beak.The light spilled from the ball and over the world, but it wasn’t long before Eagle gave chase. As Raven fled, pieces of the light fell to the ground and shattered, bouncing back into the sky to create the Moon and the stars. Other pieces of the light slowly fell as Raven made his way around the world, which is why the light travels across the sky the way it does.Theories suggest that the three legs represent the three ancient clans of Japan or the three virtues of valor, benevolence, and wisdom. Some suggest that the three stands for mankind, heaven, and Earth. Regardless of why Yatagarasu has three legs, he’s seen as symbolic of the navigator, physical and spiritual, and he’s even been adopted by the Japanese soccer association in the hopes that he’ll help navigate the ball into the goal. He’s also closely associated with Kumano, the birthplace of the founder of the sport in Japan

The raven is considered one of the smartest birds. In fact, the raven’s brain is among the largest of any bird species. Ravens also happen to possess an extraordinary number of brain cells compared to the brains of other birds.3When the raven is your spirit animal, you are being called upon to rely on your wits in a given situation or when you are faced with a challenge in your life. Often in life, we can go on automatic pilot, accepting things the way they are, or thinking we don’t have the capacity to change them.The raven spirit animal tells you that with innovation and creative thinking, you can influence outcomes that affect the course of your life. Even if you feel emotional about a situation, remember to rely on the gift of your intellect to solve your problems. This is how you gain deeper intelligence and wisdom.\

Charles Dickens’ Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of Eighty. In both tales, the raven is at first disturbing to the character who interacts with him. But then he provides important insights. Indeed, the raven expands both of the main characters’ level of consciousness.

In many Native American legends, the raven is the wisest of birds, even possessing the ability to speak.8 (In fact, this is an interesting parallel between Native American legends and stories from other cultures, such as Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven, in which the intelligent black bird is capable of human speech.The Egyptian goddess Nepthys, who is the sister of Isis, was the goddess of the dead.13 It’s clear that the ancient Egyptians also connected the raven with death, as they associated Nepthys with this intelligence black bird.

Meaning: Survival and Adaptability

Intuition – Because the raven is so closely associated with clairvoyance and prophecy, on a spiritual level, they remind us of our own ability to connect with our Higher Power and higher spiritual entities through our own minds.

Spiritual Guidance – As they are associated with insight and guidance, the raven is also a symbol for spiritual education. We are all works in progress. Learning about spirituality from more enlightened souls can lead to our own spiritual growth.

Spiritual Transformation – As a powerful symbol of transformation, the raven also embodies the idea of shifting consciousness and opening our minds to greater awareness as we navigate our spiritual journey. reflect on the areas of your life that they might relate to. Even an anxious raven dream can be a gift. It can prompt you to take the time to be an objective observer of your own thoughts. Then, you can improve situations without getting pulled in every direction your thoughts might take.

Sources :

1 2 3

Through various nakshatras

Interpretations are solely based on my understanding and you can have your interpretation as well ❤️

Krittika nakshatra

Krittika is a churner of perfection under the fire of Surya that gave birth to Shani through his mother chaya the first conception of the birth of a crow comes through while Shani is associated with crows , the struggles of not being seen enough is associated here , the outcast themes come through. Along with that the perfection theme while a crow collects the most beautiful stuff to keep in it's nest , it knows what's valuable like krittika sees the value in things , they know what they want and they attempt to take it . Here this relates to the story of yatagarasu believed to be an incarnation of the sun in Shinto mythology. This also associates with Apollo being the god of prophecy and taking the form of a crow , shows that where there exists light ( Surya ) there Exists chaya , they aren't on a scale of horizontal extremes but the flip sides of a coin, one cannot exist without the other , in krittika lies the light so lies the dark , lies the beauty of creation so lies the pain of change .

Pushya nakshatra

Pushya nakshatra ruled by Saturn comes in through the first liberation through pain and trials in the lives of the natives , like a crow one suffers despite what others say , people say various things without knowing about the wisdom of the crow , this forms the initiation of intuition . While pushya relates to the nourishing aspect of a crow , how they hunt for their young ones , how they know pain because they have been the one experiencing it , being outcast only affects them for a small time because they pick themselves up like a true winner. . Here the intelligence and creativity given by the raven shines through with the light of the moon .

Hasta nakshatra:

The playful nature of mercury- moon shines through the crow in being a lover for finer things in life , they are the intelligent ones the smart ones , they are often called deceptive , but that's just cleverness put to use , while the significance here can be seen through the story of raven (mentioned above) stealing the box which contained all the light of the world and convincing the old man to open the box , natives have great communication skills and can easily convince people. As the eagle chased the raven the moon and the stars were created , signified by the moon hasta creates their own pathway through their own efforts. By hook or by crook they get what they desire .

Jyestha nakshatra:

In Jyestha nakshatra comes in the prophetic and astrological nature of the natives . Jyestha nakshatra is associated with the 8th house , hence death and through the mahavidya Dhumavati who is also associated with crows , this nakshatra gives grounding, astrological talent to the one with this nakshatra. When the ceremonial rites of a dead person is performed offering food to a crow suggests the offerings being accepted by the dead , which is suggested here with Jyestha being in Scorpio. In tantra crows are seen as potent symbolism of intuition and transformation in various mythologies, crow is seen as transformation as is seen in Jyestha nakshatra.In the lesser key of solomon a crow reaches the art of divinitions and healing properties of crystals . A Jyestha native transforms throughout their lives and gains knowledge to become a spiritual centre of creativity and intuition. They bring in spirituality and astrology as 8th being the origin of astrology, they are potent in magical arts and healing others as well as themselves.

Dhanistha nakshatra :

When in dhanistha can be explained through the story of kakbhushundi , the disciple who turned into a crow in devotion to Rama , the solar avatar of Vishnu, kakbhushundi explores the spritual aspect of the crow , kakbhushundi who recited stories through ramacharitamanas . Dhanistha associated with Hanuman also shows the infinite devotion the crow bird and the natives of dhanistha have towards their adored and admired one , being a symbol of loyalty they are blessed with spiritual powers like kakbhushundi could travel through time and various realms , Dhanistha are blessed with the power to see various perspectives . Dhanistha natives are associated with the celestial form of a crow , the loyalty , the devotion and the spiritual salvation.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope this thread provided you valuable insights, please know that this is based on my understanding and interpretation I'm open to suggestions and corrections

Have a great day / night ahead 🤍

[bluecheeseinmyoffwhites]

Hello, saw your posts about RWBY Characters' Allusions. A question, does team rwby have another character allusion?

A lot of characters have more than one allusion, and team RWBY is no different. These allusions often have a character fill a complementary role of a significant figure in another fairy tale.

Let's start with Ruby Rose. She is of course Little Red, but there are also other characters she embodies. The Wolf in the story is known for his big & shiny eyes, a very notable feature of Ruby (that was pointed out by Ozpin in the first episode, just like the fairy tale). She is also her own huntsman, equip with an "axe" weapon of her own.

Weiss Schnee is Snow White, but also takes other roles of the story based on her summons. Her Boartusk represents the huntsman, who killed a boar to spare the princess. Her Knight represents the noble prince who saves her. Her Queen Lancer represents the Evil Queen who plagues her. Weiss seems to take after the Evil Queen the most, with her friends often referring to her as "Ice Queen".

After reading those first two, you can probably now understand why Blake is based on both Beauty & the Beast. She has Belle's beauty, part of her name, her love for books, her relationship to "Adam" and her tendency to run away. But like the Beast, she has animal traits that she hides, is haunted by a rose, prefers living in isolation, and eventually falls in love with a human girl. She is often seen in Forever Fall, a forest with wilting red flowers, representing the wilting rose that curses the Beast.

Yang is Goldilocks with her destructive nature & yellow hair, but can also be seen as Baby Bear, the child of the Papa (Taiyang, blue eyes) & Mama (Raven, red eyes), resulting in Yang being a mix of both (purple eyes). Each parent compares Yang to the other, and she learns to embrace the good and bad traits of both in order to become "just right".

The tale of Rose Red & Snow White, two young girls based on Little Red & Snow White, can be the inspiration for the partnership between Ruby & Weiss. The two were sisters, which is represented by the ever-growing bond between Ruby & Weiss. Weiss's fairy tale, Snow White, could also be the reason for Ruby's theme, Red Like Roses, which is how the Evil Queen described how red she wants her lips in the original tale (in some stories she compares it to blood in the snow, both line up perfectly with the Red Trailer & Players & Pieces).

Weiss also represents the story of the Snow Queen. She is called Ice Queen. She has a male companion (Kai/Whitley) who is cold, distant, & rude. She sets off to find the Snow Queen (Winter) in V5, during her trip she meets a talking corvid (Raven) & a robber maiden (Vernal). Weiss also gets pierced by evil glass like Gerda.

Gerda’s most cherished memories is being young playing in the rose gardens with her friend. They shared many happy memories here. This rose garden takes the embodiment of Ruby Rose, who befriends Weiss & takes her on adventures. Weiss reminisces about Ruby in V4 after the attack on Beacon, missing the days when they had fun together. A frozen rose garden is seen in Weiss Character Short, representing her longing for Ruby (innocence, fun, freedom).

Blake & Yang have so many allusions when it comes to their relationship. Start with Beauty and Beast. Blake already shows traits of both Belle & the Beast, but Yang does as well. Her affiliation with yellow, adventure, bright energy, & beauty is reminiscent of Belle. The Red Trailer even directly ties her with Blake, calling her the beauty to her beast. Yet Yang also displays signs of the Beast, most notably her behavior when she is angry. She sparks fire red eyes similar to the monstrous Grimm they fight, and is the most aggressive fighter of the group. She receives an injury on her arm identical to the Beast. Most importantly, she is abandoned by Beauty in V3. This theme of having similar & different traits within one another ties into another dynamic that will be explained later.

There are two roses that bring them together. They meet through Ruby, the good rose Yang gives to Blake. Adam is the bad rose that Blake tries to keep away from Yang, but he breaks them. Adam starts off as the Beast (Adam) to Blake’s Beauty. Once she leaves him (like the fairy tale) he then embodies the Rose that haunts her. Once he meets Blake’s new partner, he then becomes Gaston & adopts his jealousy. Once Blake & Yang defeat him, they free themselves from the curse and come back to the Good Rose.

Blake & Yang also represent the Yin & Yang dynamic. We have the darkness (Blake) and the light (Yang), with a little bit of each other in each (matching eyes). Many cultures depict Yin as a tiger (Blake's cat ears) and Yang as a dragon (Xiao Long). The themes of darkness and light has been associated with Blake & Yang since their trailers. Blake engulfs in darkness when she leaves, while Yang brings light when she enters (kind of like their semblances). Scenes with Blake & Yang play with lighting a lot (2x06, 6x01, 9x06), and fights involving them often have them circling around each other or moving across each other, just like the Yin Yang Symbol.

Team RWBY as a whole also has references. One commonly known reference is the Wizard of Oz crew, with Ruby acting as Dorothy (who had Ruby/Silver slippers). Weiss is the Tin Man who gains heart while the real one loses it (Ironwood), Blake is the Lion who gains courage while the real one loses it (Lionheart), and Yang is the Scarecrow who learns to fight smarter while the real one acts irrationally (Qrow). These four adventurers set off to Beacon (Land of Oz), meet the Wizard (Ozpin), and get their wishes (graduating). They are told to stay on the Yellow Road, but fail.

The team's respective Remnants also allude to their fairy tales. Ruby sheds roses, representing her red color scheme, her youthful innocence, and the flowers Little Red picks for her grandmother. Weiss sheds snow, representing her white color scheme, her cold attitude, and Snowhite's soft skin that gave her the name. Blake sheds shadows, representing her black color scheme, her dark personality and background, and the Beast condemned to the shadows. Yang sheds fire, representing her yellow color scheme, her bright but scorching personality, and the porridge Goldilocks claimed was "too hot".

Ruby represents multiple figures from others characters’ allusions. Penny is based on Pinocchio, who wishes on a Shooting Star to be a real human. Ruby, who is often characterized as a small flickering light (literally & figuratively) she represents the star that Penny wishes for & makes her feel human (literally & figuratively).

2x07 Dance Dance Infiltration is a retelling of the Cinderella story. The maiden is told she needs to return by midnight, puts on a disguise, & goes off. Ruby tracks her, Cinderella enters the stage, the two dance, and she leaves without a trace. Ruby in this case represents the Prince that wants to find the mysterious maiden he danced with the night before. His only clue was her missing glass slipper. Cinder fights with glass, a point Ruby reports to her professors as information to track her down.

There's a lot more micro references to other fairy tales but these are the most notable for Team RWBY. These references influence how a character is portrayed, how they interact with others, and the actions they take.

[robin-evry]

What about Pixie yuu?

Sure thing, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐄 🧚‍♂️🧚‍♀️🧚

A pixie is a mythical creature that resembles a mischievous fairy. If you spy some adorable little sprites in green pointed hats sneaking around the woods, you can bet that they're pixies. Pixies appear in folk and fairy tales from the southwest part of England, making minor mischief and dancing in groups.

Pixie Yuu is always buzzing with energy and curiosity, darting from one adventure to the next. They are full of mischievous charm, often pulling harmless pranks on their friends, especially Grim. Their lighthearted nature makes them a joy to be around, but sometimes their antics can get them in trouble.

Despite their whimsical attitude, they are sharp and quick on their feet, both mentally and physically. They have a knack for getting out of tricky situations with their clever thinking and wit.

Like a pixie guardian of nature, they have a deep connection to the environment, especially plants and animals. They takes care of the plants around the school grounds and sometimes communicates with the magical creatures that reside in the woods surrounding Night Raven College.

Can control their size, but their original size is the size of a palm similar towards a fairy. But they can manipulate their size to their liking.

Even tho they have a tiny stature and innocent appearance, They swear like a sailor, they swear as an everyday vocabulary, they also have a sharp tongue throwing insults or roast towards literally anyone no matter who it is. Btw a big fan of yo mama jokes

They also uses every creative, colorful phrase imaginable, often leaving others shocked or laughing. Their favorite exclamations usually include bizarre combinations involving nature, like “By the roots of the cursed oak!” or “Wings of a twisted nettle!”

During the time when riddle insults them during the heartslabyul arc, pixie!yuu release a barrage of swearing and insult towards, causing the entire dorm with their mouth open. Their cursing can almost make him pass out

Best friends with epel, throw insults at each other on a daily basis, but not in a rude way but a way of greeting each other, when they wake up epel message them an insult as a way to say good morning.

Their way of cursing is the way of showing dominance, many savanaclaw students are too afraid to face them. Scared of them to filet by them using their mouth.

They also have bad memories of remembering most of the students names so they use nicknames.

Riddle : "Anger issues / mommies boy"

Leo : "lion furry / Lazy Tail Twitcher"

Azul : "Ursula knock off / calamari

Kalim : "nothing will ever go wrong guy / happy go lucky"

Vil : royal pain in the ass / pretty boy

Idia : otaku human torch/ nerd boy

Malleus : horny guy / dark and broody

They also mistake people's names with others, they always mistake jade and Floyd's name, by calling jade : Floyd as well calling Floyd : jade. The twins find this amusing. ( Reference to the I'm just ken meme, with Ryan Reynolds and odell Beckman junior )

Though Pixie Yuu loves nature, cooking is where their chaotic energy shines. They throw random plants and ingredients into the pot, and somehow, it usually turns out delicious. Their creations are unpredictable, but they have a unique charm—except when they accidentally adds too much pixie dust and causes the food to float!

They often sprinkle a little of their pixie dust on their friends when they need a boost. Whether it’s to help Deuce during exams or to give Riddle a rare moment of carefree joy, they always knows when someone could use a little magical lift.

They challenges Lilia to flying competitions every now and then. Despite Lilia's age and experience, he always seems to find their pixie agility impressive. They never backs down from a good aerial race.

They love playing harmless pranks on their friends and teachers. They'll shrink objects, make things float with their pixie dust, or create tiny illusions to confuse people. Their favorite target is Ace, who never seems to catch on when things go missing or shift around him.

Pixie Yuu has a habit of making cozy little hideaways in places no one else would think of. They been known to sleep in flower petals or inside teacups. Whenever they feeling overwhelmed, they retreats to these small, quiet spots to recharge.

Thanks to their deep connection with nature, they are is the go-to student when anyone needs advice on magical plants. They know how to handle even the most dangerous flora, often with a quick swear and a smack of their hand.

Pixie Yuu’s magic is often unpredictable. A simple spell to help with gardening might accidentally turn the entire garden into a sprawling jungle or on fire. While their intentions are usually good, things tend to spiral out of control quickly, often ending with them swearing like a sailor while trying to fix the mess.

Yuu is fascinated by small, shiny things, and they have a collection of them hidden away in her room. From tiny crystals to miniature figures, if it’s small and glittering, they probably has it. Grim often teases them, calling them a “magpie,” but Yuu just shrugs and says, “Better than hoarding tuna cans like you, furball.”

Yuu has a small entourage of woodland animals who follow them around—rabbits, birds, and squirrels that assist her with tasks or simply keep them company. Grim occasionally gets jealous of how much attention she gets from the animals.

They have a beautiful, translucent wings with a soft glow, similar to those of a dragonfly. They're delicate but strong, and they shimmer in a myriad of colors depending on the light.

When things get intense in a fight, Yuu’s sailor-like mouth is in full effect. Their small size and pixie wings make them a speedy fighter, darting around enemies and cursing them out as they go. Grim swears they once made an opponent surrender purely out of confusion and shock from her language.

They also use their pixie for battle by sprinkling pixie dust on any object that is a heavy, example a dresser and they would just throw the floating heavy object towards the enemy, example them using pixie dust on a table in heartslabyul and throw it on overblot riddle

Their wings give them unparalleled mobility in the air. They are a master of aerial combat, darting around opponents with lightning speed. Their size makes them harder to hit, and they can weave in and out of attacks with ease. Their aerial maneuvers include flips, barrel rolls, and sharp dives that make them a difficult target. While flying, they can strike from different angles, keeping their enemies on their toes. They often taunt them mid-air, yelling or curse at them.

They have deep connection with nature and allow them to control plants and the environment. In battle, they can summon vines to entangle enemies, create walls of thorns for defense, or use flowers that emit calming spores to pacify aggressive foes. They have an attack called “Thorn Whip,” where they lashes out with thorny vines that deal damage while immobilizing the opponent.

They are able to manipulate magic. They have access to various elemental spells, with a particular affinity for wind and earth magic. They can summon gusts of wind to knock enemies off balance or send blasts of wind like invisible slaps their earth magic allows them to create small rock barriers or spike the ground beneath them foes, making them trip or lose balance.

They also have the ability to shrink objects and sometimes even opponents, temporarily reducing them to a comically tiny size. This disorients enemies and renders them nearly harmless while small.

They are also very skilled and a swordmaster. Their sword style mostly focuses on offensive moves by and overpowered the enemies. They are able to catch up with Lilia who's an experienced warrior.

They have pointy ears, this helps them hear from miles that is considered possible, they are also described to be very beautiful by the most of student body.

They also called Lilia an old bat as well a beg of old bones and skins meanwhile they are also a few hundred years old.