#Spreaver
Text
#fable 2#fable 3#fable sparrow#fable hannah#fable hammer#fable garth#fable reaver#fable theresa#spreaver#fable spreaver#fable logan#sir walter beck#fable walter#fable shitpost#fable meme
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
So If I remember correctly this is in "Sparrow’s Caravan" in Fable 3 and its not an exact match but this looks like concept art for Reaver’s Manor and its fueling my Spreaver heart
161 notes
·
View notes
Text
Me: I ship Reaver and Sparrow because they compliment each other so well as one can argue they are two sides of the same coin with their past traumas that could lead to compelling relationship dynamics and consequences etc etc etc
Also me: Reaver’s character model is the only attractive male in the game sooooooo…..
#fable 2#fable#fable 3#seriously all the men in albion are UGLY#even the Alex character model was meh#spreaver#reaver#sparrow#but then again i probably would still ship spreaver regardless
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fable: Speaver Brainrot
“My darling Sparrow, till the world's true meaning returns, my heart for you will always burn. Though you may not be here with me no more, I will still feel you by my side for evermore. Heavens, what have you made me, you have weakened me, abandoned me… My cher amour, I know you despise that name, but I can’t help but unhear it whenever I think of you, your smile, your touch… I loathe you, but god do I cherish you to the point you are my desires.”
-
For context this is in Reaver's perspective, I don't really have a plot for this but I just imagine he writes letters to himself almost like he is communicating to the ghost of Sparrow.
#fable 2#fable 3#fable reaver#spreaver#reaver is sad#angst#reaver angst hits different to me#sparrow fable#spreaver living rent free in my brain
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
comm for @the-light-bringers :)
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok so I was searching the internet for fable stuff as one does, and for some reason I decided to search what the meaning behind a heart under the eye was because I was confused why Reaver has one and I found this.
excuse me
GRIEF?!?!!
Now this could mean he’s grieving oakvale and the ‘her’ he refers to in his diary entries. However, if this is the case, why doesn’t he have one in fable 2? considering that it’s been like 200 years since the fall of oakvale.
Now who was alive in fable 2 but isn’t in Fable 3 and who was also very closely associated with Reaver?
SPARROW!
spreaver fans go wild, cuz I’ve been going absolutely feral over this little theory thing of mine.
(P.S, I have seen some stuff saying it’s a symbol for the shadow court but I don’t know how credible that is and I’m only talking about the grief bit)
#reaver fable#fable 2#fable games#spreaver#sparrow fable#hero of oakvale#hero of brightwall#hero of bower lake#why had no one found this yet#i am going feral#fable iii#fable 3
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
this idiot thinks he's in love, everyone point and laugh
I don't draw them nearly enough and neither of these pieces started out to be this but here they are
#fable#fable 2#fable reaver#fable 3#reaver#fable hero of bowerstone#fable 3 reaver#fable sparrow#fable fanart#spreaver#fable spreaver#ravenarttag
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
my obligatory ‘Rose lives’ AU
#fable#fable 2#fable rose#reaver#fable reaver#comic#rose lives#fanart#art#spreaver#i drew this like 2 years ago 😭#fable games
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
cant believe this hasnt been done yet
#fable games#fable 2#spreaver#sparrow fable#reaver fable#idk what other tags to put uhhh#fable yaoi#thats a good one
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sparrow and Reaver represent Duality in the sense that Sparrow’s Drive in life is to Avenge the life they’d lost when their sister was killed, while Reaver’s Drive is to live a life that’s somehow WORTH everything he’d sacrificed to gain his immortality.
They both have an almost singleminded purpose, but his is in the pursuit of pleasure while theirs is the crushing weight of duty. It’s all either of them know.
I think that’s why Spreaver is such a fascinating ship; Reaver represents Sparrow finally allowing themselves some kind of enjoyment regardless of anyone’s expectations—meanwhile Sparrow grounds Reaver, forces him to see the worth in participating in the world rather than just running away all the time.
Unfortunately for The World™️, Reaver has lived too long to grasp the humanity of others. I wonder who he’d be if Sparrow were still alive.
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
I love Spreaver so much, literally because even from the games the two looked like they absolutely loved pissing eachother off.
Here's my list starting with Sparrow's side of things:
Usurped Reaver
Became royalty which probably saved them from getting killed for it
Has the last Dragonstomper.48 gun for Reaver's collection locked in a 50 silver key chest in the gardens
Literally KEEPs Reaver's dark seal, like doesn't he need that? Literally asking for him to come back
Now for Reaver:
Got a home for himself at Bowerlake, spoilt nature from it
Not to mention it blocks the way to Hero Hill and to the tomb, both of which are pretty significant to Sparrow methinks
He kicked out the Romani (ofc Sparrow's family essentially) from their dwelling grounds
Literally all his interactions with Sparrow is just fucking with them
They love-hated eachother and you can't convince me otherwise. This is just generalised from the games btw so really it works for so many Sparrows, love or hate or both.
I might be missing some things but this has been haunting my brain for so long.
#fable#fable 2#fable 3#fable game#spreaver#reaver#sparrow#headcanon#It's the perfect ship in my mind even without my headcanons#Man I might draw my sparrow for this fr
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
"You were a wonderful experience"
"You were... everything"
except I'm a complete liar and that's not even remotely them, but listen anyways
-
Spreaver, except it's Sparrow who's in the mindset of "it physically pains me to admit how much I'm intrigued and tempted by the idea of chasing desire, but considering how I've devoted my entire life to saving Albion- and now that I've got 2 kids and a kingdom to carry the responsibility of- I could never disregard the sacrifices I've made in the name of the greater good. Especially to someone like you. As Theresa has said to me countless times, my destiny is to become something for the people. That is my burden to carry, and something that I will live by indefinitely. Me and you both understand that weight, despite how we refuse to acknowledge that. We are both heros, after all- And we are the only ones left of our little quartet. I do take such comfort in the knowledge that I am human, and that I can't always be my image- That even you, as deplorable as you are, can, too, be human (as imperfect and needlessly complicated as they come). It is something that's become unfamiliar to me as of late. I never regretted whatever it was we had, despite how little it actually meant in the moment. Typically as just another way to deal with your presence without just killing you right then and there- but nonetheless gave me the same level of emotional release. We were both equals, and knew the others limits, I suppose. How far to push- what spots were sore- and just which buttons to press. We both knew the game, and we played- and it was the most mindless, yet instinctive thing I did for quite a few years. It was one of the few things that still made me feel as though I was living a life I could've had... But that will never happen. The only way I know how to make up for the countless lives lost since that fateful day, is to repay them with my own. I still can't shake the feeling of selfishness in my actions in acknowledging you. A Hero- and especially a Monarch- should not be one to indulge, after all. For that, I could never choose a life like yours- nor you. You were never meant to be apart of this; not for long."
And Reaver, who's currently like "You have been quite possibly one of the only conquests of mine that has made me feel alive in the past 200 or so years. There was always the knowledge with us that either one could end the other, which was a feeling I had not known from any other noticeable person (except Lucien, maybe). However, you still wouldn't actively turn your back on me whenever you had the chance. Why ever you did that, I found it of the utmost excitement. Whether it was your power; status; place in society; reputation; or some other grandiose factor that made you so alluring (as many other countless material items have been to me over my life), I still feel as though you were perhaps an equal to me. I'll admit how much potential I saw in utilizing that- I am an opportunist, after all- and yet I still didn't... why I let you become such an obstacle to me, I'll never know. I upped my typical antics in the hopes you'd take an issue with them- I did love our petty banter- but your refusal to respond beyond small petty gestures just made it more of a challenge. And even despite how you so unkindly usurped me, I still made an effort to prove that it meant nothing to me; that'd I was still as glorious as ever. I was Reaver; and no matter how much of a problem it posed to your kingdom, I'd still be right here; unscathed. You were an irritating- unpredictable- and such an unlikely source of such inconvenience to my plans. Perhaps that is why I was so prepared to see you fail... Perhaps that's why I still think of you from time to time, knowing that didn't happen. Not that I'll ever admit such a fact, knowing what you know about me. Still, in the wake of your passing, I feel as though it was all for nothing. That reoccurring thought, that all my countless endeavors somehow didn't make my sacrifices worth the life I gave up so much to live for, resurfaced, just then. I mean- if I couldn't even get back at you for having such an impact on me (my reputation, my empire, my house!! Need I even go on?), why did I ever spend that much effort on you in the first place? Why on earth I let you become something in my mind, I'll never forgive myself for. No... I'd never do that. I'll never forgive you. And for that crime, you will never be a name I bring up again; Stripped of any illusion of significance.
In order to completely forget such troubling revelations, I've decided to once again indulge in the short-lived highs of excitement and exploits. In fact, I'll take advantage of this new era and make a name for myself- A proper one. The only way to drive those dreadful thoughts away is to prove them wrong, after all. Meaning: I'll build a new empire for myself. A far grander one. Perhaps, reaching the status you once possessed will finally erase you from such universal importance."
They're so toxic, they've started to rot my brain
I'm a 'petty, stubborn, shallow (masking his deep intellectualism and the torment) bitch' reaver x 'unbothered, "fuck it we ball" (deeply traumatized and not coping as well as they thought they were), throws chairs indiana jones style; sparrow' preacher
#fable rambles#fable 2#fable 3#?#if you squint#fable reaver#fable sparrow#hero of bowerstone#Spreaver#no#theyre not in love#but i dont think#people who dont feel anything towards eachother#make such intense eye contact during consensual fun times#then again#they literally just feed off of mutual spite#who knows#maybe theyre trying to see who blinks first
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Missing Painting
Got inspired randomly to write a little drabble based on an idea I have had for a drawing for a long time. Lots of headcanons in here for the reason behind the gauntlets in Fable 3 and a little bit of lore for the Fable Family. Hope you enjoy! At the bottom will also be a link to the Ao3 form because I need to post there more, but I also wanna post full writings on tumblr for later readings and such.
Also I’m just happy I wrote. It’s been a long while since I wrote something like a story for a character or world so I’m happy.
They say there is a royal portrait that was commissioned when Aelyn was a little girl, but never saw the light of day; the missing painting, as Aelyn called it. She had free roam of the castle ever since becoming queen. Logan was often out doing community service which was something Aelyn sent him to do. It felt weird to command her older brother to community service, but it was a good deed. The people started to warm up to the former tyrant. Most would never understand why Logan did the things he did, but as long as they forgave him, that's all Aelyn cared about.
But the missing painting was a recent memory that came to Aelyn, something she wanted to solve. She was wandering the castle halls when, almost as if fate decreed, she came across a room she had never seen before. When she tried opening the doors, they stayed shut firm, locked.
Aelyn flagged down a guard asking them about the door and they said it had been locked for years ever since Logan was king. She demanded it unlocked for her as the new queen. The guard shrugged saying that only Logan has the key.
"Of course he does," Aelyn muttered as she dismissed the guard. She was queen now, she had a right to know what was in her castle.
Like a younger sibling up to antics, Aelyn traveled to her old room where Logan now slept. It was weird to have their rooms swapped, but Logan enjoyed the isolation of his new room. Gave him a break from some of the still persistent glares from servants and nobles.
As she opened the doors and stepped inside, she found it empty, but very clean. Maybe Jasper had been inside and cleaned it up, for the bed was made neatly and Aelyn knew her brother did not make his bed. Was she being a bad sister for snooping around her brother's room? Of course not. She was being a little sister.
Honestly she didn't know what she was looking for, but curiosity got the best of her.
If her brother were keeping a secret from her, where would he hide the key to it all? She scanned the room, moving around the open space before her eyes landed on a chest at the base of the bed. She shrugged and knelt before it, opening the heavy lid. Inside was his old royal garments. He didn't wear them often anymore unless he appeared in court by her side. He had said he was unworthy to wear the armor of a king, but Aelyn insisted he keep it. He was still her brother and still part of the royal family and she would not hear any other answers. That's what all the community service was for: to regain his honor.
She pulled out the breastplate and put it to the side. There was a large blanket at the bottom of the chest after she removed the rest of the royal garbs. She decided to reach in and pull out the large, velvet sheet. She hoped there was something secret underneath.
Much to her joy, there was.
Underneath the blanket was a very small box. She pulled it out and examined it. It was a very basic black box about the size of a book if not bigger. There were no carvings, engravings, fancy decorations, nothing. It was plain. The only thing there was was a small keyhole. Aelyn groaned. Where the hell was she supposed to find this key?
An idea popped in her head. She decided maybe it would be best to not snoop any further. She put the small box back, keeping a note to talk to Logan down the road about it, and then put everything else back and closed the chest's lid.
She ran down the stairs out of Logan's room and down the halls of the castle, rushing past servants who all casually stepped out the way obviously used the queen's habits of running down halls both as a full grown woman and little girl. She burst through the doors of her royal chambers and ran to her desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out a small kit given to her by Page.
A smile crept across her face as she ran back to the locked door, which happened to be in one of the halls that connected to her room. No wonder she never noticed it before. She wasn't really in this wing of the castle often before she became queen. She knelt down before the door and pulled out the tools from the small kit.
During the revolution, Aelyn learned the valuable skill of lock picking, having to get into places that weren't always easy to access. Walter had said he was glad she never learned this skill back in her childhood otherwise, she would have been even more of a menace.
She smiled as she fiddled with the lock, remembering what Page had told her, how to angle the picks and to feel the tumblers. As she worked on the lock, she wondered if her mother ever did such things. Logan told her stories about their mother being up to no good in her younger days. She wished she could have known more about Queen Sparrow, but Logan had stopped talking about her after he became king and swarmed with duties. Walter offered more tales, but it was still never enough.
The lock clicked and Aelyn tried the handle. The door opened with a creak into a small square room with no light. Aelyn stepped in, flicked her wrist and summoned a small fire with her gauntlet that lit up the room. She felt the humming vibration of magic coursing through her gauntlet and the slight tingle of Will in her blood.
There was quite a bit in this room, old furniture mainly, most covered by white, dusty sheets. There was a table with a few things on it. She walked over and saw there were gems, scraps of metal, a couple of gauntlets similar to the ones she wore although they held no stone. Against a chair there lay a sword, dull on one side and slightly curved. Aelyn's mouth dropped as her eyes landed on the blade.
This was the blade of her mother, a weapon called a katana from Eastern Samarkand. Aelyn had never seen one before, but knew it was the weapon her mother had carried during her earlier Hero days. Aelyn picked it up and weighed it. It felt nice in her hand, slightly heavier than her own sword, but with a few swings she got used to the weight. It was odd how only one side was sharp therefore leading to a different fighting style. She wondered if Logan knew how to use it and if he could teach her since he used a similar weapon, more elegant than the sword Aelyn was used to.
She put the blade down. She noticed there was a layer of dust to everything suggesting this room had not been disturbed for a long, long time. She continued deeper into the small chamber, fireball lighting the way, when she noticed a discarded crossbow at the base of a large rectangular covered object. Aelyn first picked up the crossbow noticing once again it belonged to her mother. Walter had told her how her mother hated guns. She had hated the sound they made and swore she would never use one. That's why she always carried a crossbow, despite the changing age.
It was a beautiful brass crossbow and resembled a few guns Aelyn had seen journeying across Albion. The bulk of the crossbow had six chambers where bolts could be housed - currently empty - and when Aelyn pulled the trigger, the chamber spun, supposedly locking a new bolt down to be fired rapidly. She didn't know how effective it would be nowadays, but back then during her mother's time, maybe it was still a viable weapon.
She put the crossbow aside and then finally looked at the rectangular object that leaned against the wall. She pulled the sheet up and gasped when she saw it.
A painted small child's face with a poof of white hair was revealed, sitting in the lap of painted younger boy with shoulder length black hair. She did not remember ever sitting for this painting, but she did remember how Logan used to look as a kid, telling its age. She pulled the sheet farther up, revealing more of the painting...
"Aelyn!"
Aelyn shrieked and dropped the sheet, spinning around quickly to see the source of the voice. Standing in the doorway with his basic clothes and hair tied into a small ponytail was her brother. The fire from her gauntlet revealed his scowling face.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked, his voice low and demanding.
Aelyn motioned to the old room. "I've never seen this room before and was curious. Lots of Mom's stuff in here."
Logan frowned even more. "You're not allowed in here."
"Says who?" Aelyn asked, putting one hand on her hip. "I'm the queen of Albion and this is my castle. I am allowed to go wherever I please."
Logan sighed and rolled his eyes then crossed his arms. "Not this room."
"What? It's just a dusty old storage room. I'm assuming this is where all of Mom's stuff was sent after she died?" Aelyn raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand why this is a big secret or something."
"Just get out," Logan commanded, stepping aside and motioning for her to leave. His voice was deep and stern, similar to how it sounded many times before as king. The hint of brotherly affection gone and replaced with something... Else.
Aelyn crossed her free arm. “No.” She turned back around, blatantly ignoring her brother’s growing frown and pulled at the sheet again. Her mother was revealed, standing behind Logan with a hand on his shoulder and a small smile on her old face. There was another person in the picture; Aelyn saw the shoulder of the last person, but the sheet was still covering it.
A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the painting. Aelyn cried out as she stumbled back and Logan pulled the sheet over the painting. “What the fuck, Logan?” she hissed, looking at him with glaring eyes.
“Get out of this room Aelyn. You’re not meant to see any of this stuff.”
Aelyn threw her hands up, the fireball extinguishing in the air. “And why the fuck not? This is all Mom’s stuff. And is that the damn painting that was never seen? Who is the other person in the painting?”
Logan had not turned around and was still holding the sheet, covering up the missing painting, his head lowered. “Because it’s not time for you to see any of this,” Logan said after a moment, then turned around. “I was going to show you when you were older and more mature.”
Aelyn scoffed. “Well I think I’m pretty fucking mature being queen and all. Also saving the goddamn world.” Her face started to heat up from anger.
Logan sighed. “This is something that needs to wait even longer than that.”
“Oh, so what? I can fight the fucking Crawler, kill one of my best friends, but you won’t let me see a stupid painting or tell me about Mom? What the hell are you hiding Logan? I thought we promised no more secrets between us?”
Logan glanced back at the painting, his frown now dissolved and replaced with a sad look. “I know, but this...” He sighed, unable to finish the sentence. He closed his eyes then stood straight. He moved forward and then wrapped his arm around Aelyn’s neck, pulling her out of the room. “I guess there’s no use in hiding it anymore so let’s go.”
Aelyn struggled against her brother for a bit, not wanting to leave the memories of her mother, but he held her firm and led her outside then back up to his room. When they were in the chamber, he let go of her and then knelt before the chest she had rummaged through just half an hour ago. He followed the motions she had performed pulling out his royal garments, the velvet sheet, and then the black box.
He stood up and turned towards her. “Mom gave this to me on her deathbed. She told me to look at it once she passed to learn about her biggest secret. Said I shouldn’t tell you until you got older, until you could understand what it all meant.” He put his hand in his shirt and then pulled out a key that was strung around his neck. He put the key into the box and it clicked open. He pulled out a fairly sized book with old pages sticking out. “This is Mom’s journal. It took me years to fully read the damn thing because her handwriting was horrible,” he chuckled. “But this is a telling of her journey all the way to her death.”
Aelyn moved forward, reaching towards the book. Logan passed it to her and she opened the ancient text. She squinted as she tried reading some of the words within the pages, but couldn’t make any sense of the horrible spelling and handwriting. “I didn’t know Mom was so shit at writing.”
Logan chuckled sadly. “She couldn’t read growing up, Aelyn. She learned to write when she was in her thirties. I’ll read it to you at a later date, but I wanted to show you this before I show you the full painting.” Aelyn looked up with a raised eyebrow and Logan simply motioned with his head for her to follow him back to the storage room. As they walked, Logan told her, “You were right. After Mom died, I had all of her things moved into that room. I wanted her memory close to me and I often went into that room reminiscing the times she and I shared together late at night, talking about her adventures, learning the secrets of the Hero blood, and me helping her transcribe royal decrees and such.”
Logan smiled as they reentered the room. He looked around for a minute before he saw a small orange stone covered in dust laying on the table. “You know Mom made your gauntlets right? She was experimenting with magic, wondering if there was a way non-Heroes could use Will. She never quite got the recipe right, but she did find a way to invoke the Will within your blood specifically without hurting you.” He turned to her, turning the stone in his hands, the light from the doorway making it shine slightly. “With your special condition, she wanted to find a way for you to use magic without hurting yourself. It’s why she spent the rest of her years experimenting. As a result she made these.” He held the stone up, which looked like a rougher version of the one that rested in the gauntlet on Aelyn’s hand. “Will solidified. Still only usable by those with Hero blood however.” Logan looked around for a small lantern and put it on the table. He held the stone in his right hand and then with his left, snapped his fingers. A small flame burst at the tip of his fingers and he shot it into the lamp, lighting up the room.
“Woah,” Aelyn whispered.
Logan chuckled. “Mom was teaching me how to use magic before her condition worsened. I hoped one day I could teach you, but...well you know what happened.”
“Wait...You’ve been able to use magic this whole time?” Aelyn gasped, absolutely amazed.
Logan shrugged. “Basic things. Not to your extent. Then again, you have the gauntlets helping you. They are focuses for your Will and they are attuned to very specific things like fire, lighting, blades.” Logan put the stone down next to the lantern then picked it up. “Mom was really intelligent and I sat with her many a night writing away in a book of all her notes. It’s why I know so much about Heroes and the way Will works. It’s a fascinating thing, magic. I’ll tell you more about it later.” He then walked to the back of the room where the painting remained covered. His smile dropped and his shoulders fell. “This,” he began as Aelyn stood next to him, “is the secret I have been dreading to tell you for a long time. Especially now.”
There was a moment of quiet before Logan finally reached out and grabbed the sheet. He took a deep breath and pulled the sheet off completely. He held the lantern up, illuminating the painting.
Aelyn studied the painting, the childish smile on her face as Logan held her on his lap. Sparrow stood behind them, a hand on Logan’s shoulder and a small smile on her old face. Her other arm was wrapped around the waist of another person whose arm was around her shoulder. It took Aelyn a moment to scan the face before she recognized with absolutely disgust who the person was.
The square jaw, heart-shaped mole, and ruffled hair belonged to a man she despised. Belonged to a man who had his filthy arm wrapped around her beloved mother’s shoulder in this painting. “Is that fucking Reaver?” Aelyn knew the answer because who else could it be? That face was so recognizable to her even in a painting that was clearly from almost twenty years ago. Although, it didn’t even look like he aged. He was painted as he looked now.
Logan slowly nodded. “Reaver was Mother’s closest advisor, just like he was mine.”
Aelyn scoffed. “I know why he was yours, for business and shit, but why the hell was he Mom’s?”
“Well...he’s the reason Mom became a queen, Aelyn. Reaver is the reason for a lot of things in our family...Including...you and I.” Silence filled the small room as Logan’s words hung in the air.
Aelyn turned to him slowly. “What do you mean by that?” she narrowed her eyes. Logan looked down at her.
“Aelyn.” A breath. “Reaver is our father.”
Ao3 link
#fable#fable 2#fable 3#spreaver#logan fable#hero of brightwall#sparrow#reaver#hero of bowerstone#reaver fable#OC: Aelyn#G-W76#writing#short story
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thinking about Sparrow talking to Reaver one day during a bad depersonalization/dissociation episode, very quietly whispering “What if…what if Sparrow died that night in the castle…? What if…I’m something else…something just piloting this body?”
And Reaver being so uncomfortable and sort of blowing her off (“What nonsense! What else would you be, foolish girl?”) because it touches far to close to how he feels about his life in Oakvale (though perhaps less LITERAL than how Sparrow feels)
#sparrow#reaver#fable#spreaver#sparrow/reaver#sparrow: I don’t feel like a person#reaver: lol wild anyway
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do What You Gotta Do from Descendants 3 is so Logan and Reaver in AUs where Logan and the HoBW are Spreaver babies coded in this essay I will-
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
that--funny--feeling
writing my way out
l1lyoceans
LiLy 🐄ceans
thatguywithnoface
facelessman
hogwartschronicles
Hogwarts Chronicles
restaurantmarketingblog
Untitled