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thekrows-nest · 2 years

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General Info + F.A.Q

General Info

This is is a blog for all things about Krow.

This is an 18+ blog so minors DO NOT INTERACT Any blogs that do not have their age listed in their bio or haven’t DMed me their age proving they're 18+ WILL be blocked! I'm serious, please PLEASE have your age in your bio OR DM me it.

I’ll be posting art, musings and the like. Share fan creations from others, answer asks and questions. May or may not do some sort of project with this nasty gremlin, in which case I’ll use this space to document the journey.

Be sure to check down below and read the FAQ too! Your question could be answered there already!

If you enjoy my work here on the blog, and wanna support me, you can donate at my Ko-Fi! Please DON’T feel pressured to do so. It’s completely optional!

TO NOTE: Update (as of 1/26/2023) So I’ve had Krow for a few months now. Not nearly as long as my other OC’s but decent length of time for me to have figured out some things. However, even so, this blog is mainly for fun, just a means of me writing and drawing for this goofy boy, so some answers may just be silly. Don’t take EVERYTHING I say as the end all be all canon of Krow. I may change my mind on things (and I have before, a number of times).

Below is my old To Note but I’ll keep it up anyway ndfgbl.szf

Krow is a very new character for me, which is to say; until/unless I say otherwise, do NOT take everything said here for absolute canon, lore and fact. You’re basically seeing and experiencing the messy process that is... creating a character, and in many ways, helping me develop him further. Things can and will change with him. Design, lore, bits of personality and so on. Just so you’re aware. (:

(Anon asks are OFF because I am simply not comfortable with having them on. Apologies.)

Krow’s Ref(s): Main Ref Krow’s Eyes and Teeth Krow’s Back Tattoo Krow Ship Chart (Blank) Mer!Krow Untraumatized Krow

Gabby Ref(s): Doodle

Eliyah Ref(s): Doodle

Luke Ref(s): Doodle

Mary Ref(s): Doodle

Naila Ref(s): Doodle

Tag List (will probably update as more tags become relevant):

#about krow #krow art #krow asked and answered #krow in character #the krow’s nest #naughty krow #krow fluff #krow angst #krow stories #dove aviary #winndy talks #krow fanart #krow’s murder flock #silly krow #bird call #about gabby #gabby asked and answered #LT asked and answered #LT in character #the krow’s nest verse #about eliyah #eliyah asked and answered #eliyah in character #eliyah art #luke asked and answered #about luke #luke in character #luke art #about mary #mary art #mary asked and answered #mary in character #about naila #naila asked and answered #naila in character #naila art

F.A.Q.

(Probably put more here later)

Does Krow have a VN? When is he getting one? I’ve gotten a number of asks and questions about this from numerous people since I first started this blog and the answer is still the same: I don’t know. I created Krow mainly as just a way to entertain myself and because games like 14DWY and RH inspired me to. Krow happened to strike a chord with the community, I was asked by a few friends to make a blog so they could send in goofy asks. Now Krow has a decent following (which I am grateful for!) and so I’ve been getting asked this more and more. If I were to seriously consider a VN though, I would have to do a LOT of work. When I made Krow, I created him “in a vacuum” as I like to put it, by which I mean... he doesn’t HAVE a story. There aren’t other defined characters, a setting or such besides him and Dove. So if I were to make a VN, I would need to think of other characters, the setting and so on. While I am not settled on the idea of a VN yet, I HAVE been muddling on expanding the “Krow Verse” as it were. I hope to introduce some other characters to you all soon!

How old is Krow? So *I* personally headcanon Krow at 25, HOWEVER, generally speaking, he can be whatever you headcanon him at as long as he’s 18+. My other headcanon is that he is always a year older than you/Dove. How tall is Krow? Similar to his age, you can headcanon him at various heights. However, his MAX height (and what I headcanon him as) is 5′1″, but he is always at least one inch shorter than you. Krow is absolutely fine with Dove being much taller than him.

What ethnicity is Krow? Krow is Indian + Bengali, though he was born in America! And this will ALWAYS be canon.

What’s Krow’s job? He works as a crime scene/forensics cleaner! He works for a very small (as in about five people including him) licensed company to go around and clean up the scenes of murders, not so wellness checks and the like. He also does some black market organ selling as a side hustle, which come from his own murders. He is also sometimes commissioned to do art! (In particular his other yandere friends go to him for art pieces.)

So Krow’s an artist, what kind of art does he do? The answer is... a bit of everything lmao. Mostly draws and paints, since that’s the easiest and most portable. But he also sculpts (as in using clay but he also buys blocks of marble or such to literally carve into when he can afford it), wood carving and widdling, has done metal working, sometimes writes poetry, customizes and even builds dolls. Pretty much any (traditional) visual art medium there is, Krow has done/does.

Does Krow have a speech impediment? He does! He’s had his stutter for many years, but has never gotten any kind of correctional therapy for... spoilery reasons.

How did Dove meet Krow? There isn’t really a “canon” way (as of now) that Dove meets Krow, just that it was purely coincidental. So you can headcanon pretty much almost anything of how Dove and Krow meet. Examples I’ve listed before have been at the park, out just walking in public, the grocery store, maybe even your work. To Dove, it may have just been some run of the mill encounter. For Krow however, it was life changing.

FOR ALL THAT IS HOLY WHERE IS THE NSFW ABC’S??!!! I finally got you bae’s. It is right here

Okay what about his SFW ABC's? They are right here!

#general info #the krow's nest #about krow #krow asked and answered #krow in character #naughty krow #krow fluff #krow angst #krow stories #dove aviary #winndy talks #krow fanart #krow's murder flock #silly krow #bird call

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 5 years

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The Alliance (Inglourious Basterds Imagine)

Requested by @owba-chan, thanks again love! :) <3

Let me know if you guys wanna be tagged in these :)

Once upon a time in Nazi-Occupied France...

You were in the same cafe you visited each afternoon. You had a job to do, aside from your homework. You, like every other student, got no sleep.

Your afternoon coffee was a necessity. The warm, comforting cup, and strong awakening scent was welcome. You never got tired of it, and you didn't think you ever would.

You looked at your notes...the tiresome, boring, endless drabble that went from neatly organized ideas to hasty chicken scratches. With a sigh, you set it back in your school bag, and discretely pulled out a book you really should not even be seen with in public: La Silence de la Mer.

It was banned...

Then again, so were most of the things and people you loved.

And anyway... there usually weren't any nazis around there. You knew that. The other tired students knew that.

And the basterds knew that.

Everyone was irritated when the calm, relaxed ambience was disrupted by low grumbling of men. Still, everyone was apathetic...and tired....

You had a good ear. You had to, in your line of work.

"Work..." You smiled a little. Is it really work if you love what you do?

You took a puff at your cigarette, one of the habits you just recently picked up. You loved work, but it stressed you out.

That...and of course your anthropology exam.

Anyway, you tapped out some ashes, and picked up your book as you read on. Or...pretended to. You really listened in on the grumbling.

It was English.

And it was kind of your job to pick up on these sort of things...

"What the fuck's that mean?" Aldo muttered, frustrated with Omar and Smitty. The boys never did seem to catch a break.

Hugo shook his head slowly, his eyes narrow in confusion, "That's not...that's not German."

Smithson sighed as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, "I know. I know, Wicki. But that's what it sounded like!"

Donny suggested, "If you say it one more time, nice and slow maybe they'll get something..."

Omar nodded, "Ok. It sounded like tunnel....undies....them....glass....she....gain....off..."

Wicki cracked his knuckles, hoping he'd get it this time, "Did it sound like...tunnel unter dem Glas stiegen auf?" He shook his head in embarassment, that didn't make any sense to begin with, that-

"Yes! Yes! That's it!" Utivich's eyes and smile were wide, and bright as he and Omar looked at each other nodding.

Hugo frowned, and looked to Wicki in confusion..."Was heißt das überhaupt?" 'What's the even mean....'

Wicki shrugged, and looked back at the basterds, "Are you sure that's what you heard?"

You happened to also understand German... you didn't have much of a choice. Your English was a bit rusty, but as you exited the cafe to head to your job, you tried to help them out a little, "Sounds like code for Notre Dame."

There was a wave of stunned silence washing over the basterds as they each took a moment to look you over...

...with suspicion.

Hirschberg murmured in awe, and confusion, "What?"

You didn't mind the informalities. You shrugged, "You said glas stiegen. That's German for glass and rose. Windows in the cathedral are called rose windows...and...they're made of glass. That's all." You took a step forward, but were blocked by a tall, intimidating man. One you'd come to know as Sergeant Donny Donowitz.

Another man, their leader, spoke up from the booth. "Why don't you sit with us for a bit, missy."

You raised an eyebrow. You were young, but you understood it wasn't an invitation, per se.

You obliged as to not raise an alarm...which was also part of your job.

You took a seat between one confused Gerold Hirschberg and a very annoyed Hugo Stiglitz.

The leader, bit his cheek as he gazed at you, trying to figure you out. Whose side were you on? "Where'dya get that idea from, little lady?"

It was then that the cafe's atmosphere was once again disturbed. This time by an unruly, group of men, loud and proud. You excused yourself with such ease, it stunned the basterds again. You didn't go very far to begin with. You understood they had guns on them. You could smell the gunpowder...which wasn't very common around Paris at the time.

"Dmitri. Idi domoi. Ti takhoy vredytel.' You stood in front of the leader of the new group. A group of Russian boys that you may or may not have been acquainted with at work. They were mountains compared to you. But they respected you, and knew not to ever question you. You told Dimitri to go home, and...called him a pest.

He understood. His men understood.

They left. They'd get an explanation later, and they knew it.

You moved back to the booth...and waited... Suddenly, the basterds scrambled back to let you back in. This time you sat by an even more confused Zimmerman, and Wicki.

Donny's eyes narrowed as he looked at the other group of men that made their way to the curb, and then back at the table, "Were those russkies?!"

"Yes, yes... My apologies, I have an atrocious accent, and they have even worse timing."

Aldo furrowed his eyebrows, "Atrocious? That's gotta be the pertiest goddamn accent I ever heard."

As impressive as it was that you could speak French, English, Russian, and German, (that they knew of) they still didn't know what to make of you and your help.

They were all...understandably... holding guns under the table, all aimed at you.

Hirschberg nudged Smitty...they'd been trying to work on Smithson's tough act, which was rooted in an argument he'd had with Donny, in which Smitty argued that 'size doesn't matter' when it comes to intimidation.

"YoU...You uh" he cleared his throat, "You got anything to say, sweetheart?" He cringed at himself...though Omar whispered a proud, 'nice...' under his breath.... it certainly was an improvement.

You simply sighed, "Can't expect anything else from a basterd, no?" You smiled slyly as you took a sip from your coffee.

They were all silent. Aldo nodded, soaking it in, and noted, "You know who we are..."

You couldn't help but giggle a little, though you quickly covered your lips. "You don't do a very good job of hiding it."

Aldo lowered his gun, "What in the hell's that mean, kid?"

You gestured at Donny, "Your tall friend. I've only heard the story of one American that carries a baseball bat around, and there aren't quite as many baseball games around here now." You looked at Smithson Utivich, and made a quick assumption, based on...his size..."The little one..."

Smitty caught on, and frowned, narrowing his eyes,

"The Germans call him, well the li-"

Aldo pushed with a question, "Do you know our names?"

You nodded, "It's not that hard to recognize Hugo Stiglitz. Everyone knows who he is."

Hugo simply gave you a stoic nod. He didn't know what to make of you, but young as you were...you did know your stuff.

Hirschberg wasn't so sure, "Maybe everyone in the German army..."

Aldo nodded, "And somethin' tells me you ain't in the goddamn German army."

You shrugged. You already had enough to deal with that day. A snobbish professor, an even snobbier date that stood you up, a paper to do, and you still had work. An interrogation was not on your itinerary, "Too true, Monsieur." You picked up your coffee again, and took a sip.

Aldo sat back in frustration, "Alright. You ain't no jerry, what the hell are you?"

"I'm a student."

Omar nodded, seeing you were young, maybe around Smitty's age, "Makes sense..."

Aldo wasn't done. "Where you studyin' little lady?"

"At the University of Paris!" You were quite proud of that. "I'm studying art...which.." Your smile faded as you sighed. You looked down at your cup, your fingertips tapping softly against it as you slowly twisted it back and forth. "It's...kind of a useless degree right now... a lot of what I'm studying is missing."

Utivich was entranced by your words.... He would've been a student too, if not for the war. In fact, he was enrolled, and excited to study in NYU... he wanted to be a lawyer some day.... Then he enlisted. It was a decision he made over night. Because the moment he realized what the nazis were really doing, being a lawyer wasn't enough to find justice.

'Well this might as well happen today too...' You were used to things not going as planned, and you were used to getting some third degree. You knew who the basterds were. Most people in your line of work did...or had at least heard a rumor. You pulled your small backpack over to the table top, and said "Go ahead."

Aldo glanced at Donny and nodded. Donny reached for the bag tentatively. He pulled out your ntoebook.

"Whatcha got, Donowitz?"

Donny frowned, "I don't know, Aldo, it's in French!"

Hugo rolled his eys, and reached for the ntoebook. He had working knowledge of French. "Let me see." He flipped through the pages, and what he could read, he nodded, "School notes."

Utivich reached for the notes. He wouldn't understand a word...but sometimes...he missed school. He wondered what it would've been like to be a college kid.

Then he remembered how much he loved being a basterd. He flipped through the pages. Towards the end, they were blank...and then they had more than scratches on them. They were sketches.

They were beautiful. "What the fuck..." His voice trailed off in awe, and it was passed around the table.

Hirschberg leaned over some basterds, "What is it?!"

You blushed a little, and looked back down, "Just, how do you say....doodles?"

Utivich shook his head. When he was in school, he doodled. "Those aren't doodles. That's fucken art."

Wicki noticed something. A sketch or two that looked familiar. Then one they all identified. The Mona Lisa.

Donny caught on, "Hey...I know that one."

Wicki looked at you, "Why're you copying all these paintings down?"

"I'm an art student...and all these pieces are either being eyed by nazis, or are already stolen...It's nice to have something to remember them by."

After a few sketches, there were more blank pages, and then other drawings. These were detailed. They weren't just rough sketches. They had been done out of love, not memory. They were all faces. They were all unique.

They were all people that had been stolen.

But....in your line of work...that was normal...

You reached for the notebook. "So, it's settled. Student."

"B-"

You shut the cover, and held on to the precious memories, pressing them against your chest. "If you really need to know, there's a piece of information in that bag that would get me killed if you weren't you. Go ahead."

Aldo nodded at Hugo and Omar. They extracted a textbook or two, a few pencils, loose crumpled, illegible notes, and a locket.

Omar picked up the locket by the chain. It was silver, and had beautiful engravings of flowers on the outside. Aldo gave an approving glance and Omar opened it.

"Um.... poor...y/n... moon-port, Ben-Hur...aveys...tote moon amour, Emile."

Hugo frowned and took the locket from him, muttering about his uselessness in German. Before he could begin to read it, you spoke. You knew it by heart. "Pour y/n, mon porte-bonheur, avec tout mon amour, Emile... Emile Loveitt. For his good luck, with all his love." You smiled a little. Emile and his family escaped. They were somewhere in England. He was your friend, always had been, and always would be. The hand you had in the escape was the reason you got your job.... which was your only saving grace at the moment.

"Look behind the picture."

Hugo carefully took the picture of the unknown friend out of the locket, revealing a cross of Lorraine engraved in the silver, it was the symbol for the French Resistance. "She's telling the truth. She’s in the resistance."

Aldo still wasn't sure. He wasn't willing to let his team be taken down. He knew all about double agents and collaborators in France. "How do we know you are y/n?" He'd managed to pick your name out of the phrase in the locket's engraving. "How do we know you ain't just pick this up somewhere?"

"Look inside that book." You gestured to the one under all the notes and pens.

Wicki shuffled through the stack on the table and picked it out. Anthropology.

He opened it... and the pages were hollowed out.

Inside was an identification. He handed it to Hugo, and he read it out loud. "Carte de Combattant Volontaire de la Resistance: Y/N." He hid it back in the book and shut it. "She's in the French resistance. Y/n is really her name. Born in Paris."

Aldo smiled a little as he put everything back into your backpack. "Well if it ain't an ally... You a terrible spy, I gotta say."

You chuckled a little, "I'm not a spy. I'm just French. I want a free France."

"Well yeah. But you're in the resistance aintcha?"

"I'm a student. I'm tired, and I'm pissed. Not because of exams...well... also because of exams, but mostly because this isn't France."

You stood up, picked up your school bag, and went to the door. You looked back, "Are you coming or not?"

Aldo looked at his men and they all stood up and followed you put. "Where exactly are we going?" Kagan frowned as he made his way by you, followed by Sakowitz, Zimmerman, and Utivich.

"Work." You turned and walked out of the cafe nonchalantly, putting on your backpack.

Omar walked by you, "And where is that?"

"Today? The catacombs under Notre Dame."

Donny nodded, "Ohh... a death trap, huh?"

Stiglitz huffed, "Donny."

You smiled as you led the burly, clueless men down the lesser known streets and alleys. "We have a dozen or so people we need to get out of France, to England. A few people, some paintings, and some very damning documents."

Omar nodded, having trouble following along, "And these tunnels are important becase..."

You shrugged, "Secondary location. Contacts exchange products here...in this case refugees, priceless art, and documents. The people are being snuck to England, the art to a warehouse in Switzerland owned by a friend of ours, a double agent actually, and the documents to any ally that will listen. But, if what you two say is true," you looked to Omar and Smitty and said, "Then the nazis know about it. So, I have to... clock in early." You planned to warn the others. You couldn't postpone the evacuations. The families you were helping had nowhere else to hide, and they didn't have much time left. Those documents were a smoking gun. And the art... you didn't just do sketches to remember things you would never see again, you were part of a ring keeping track of the stolen pieces.

Aldo pieced it together "Ain't no way you delaying the escapes, is there, y/n?"

"No, sir." You trudged through the back of an abandoned inn.

Aldo nodded, "Alright then. Listen here boys. Behave. Them French fighters know what they want. Don't get in nobody's way, make sure everyone's supposed to get out, gets out. Every nazi that gets in, they ain't goin no place."

The basterds followed you down the catacombs, and met with your superiors. You translated back and forth. The mission would proceed, just as you expected. The nazis were spotted a few blocks away, just as suspected. And the basterds did what they did best, just as needed.

By 2AM, the Parisian south west was relatively void of nazis. There were over a dozen people free of persecution, halfway across the English channel, and a few priceless works of art accounted for.

You just had an essay to write.... And a few lost basterds to guide. You had been a little more silent than usual. Complications arose during the mission. In the end, everything ended as it was meant to.

The only difference was that you were covered in blood. You'd killed a nazi, for the very first time, in an attempt to save Private First Class Smithson Utivich. It was something the basterds would never forget. Neither would you... You were proud of it. You didn't hesitate. The world needed the basterds. "You know of somewhere we can hide out for the night, Y/n?"

You nodded. "Normally the catacombs, but I'm sure there were more that heard of the operation. No one is safe there now...but..." You once again eyed the empty inn that you passed by earlier. "No one's stepped foot in there in a few years. You'd be safe there."

You helped them break in. It was dusty, dark, and abandoned. It was a shadow of what it once was. Almost everything was covered in sheets. You'd done it yourself, hoping to save it all in case there was a chance of saving the France you once knew....in case they came back... Moonlight was the only lighting, coming in through windows so old, there was a film of filfth and dust covering the glass. Still, the ancient mahogany floor seemed flawless. The furniture and welcoming wallpaper held in the laughter and love of generations of visiting families and couples. It was small, but warm, and had an air of elegance. You spent so many days of your life there, Emile's family had owned it for generations. They gave you your first chance, your first home, your first job. Years later, you gave them another chance, a safe passage to a new home with your new job. The inn was nothing without them.

It was forgotten.

And it was the basterds' for the taking. If it could be a home for someone, you had no problem with it.

Andy Kagan and Omar smiled as they all looked around. Abandoned as it was, it was a palace compared to their tents."Can we stay here?"

As much as it would give them some well needed warm beds, they were basterds. Their work was never done. Donny sighed, "We need to head to Strasbourg tomorrow."

You smiled a little, understanding what was happening. You made a suggestion, "Take the 4 o clock train to Mulhous. Tell the girl at the booth in the station I sent you. She'll show you a path that has a fork. The northeastern road will take you straight there.... The northwest is the scenic route, takes a bit longer, you'll pass a little town that has the best eclaires. It'll take a few more hours, but you'll get a scalp or two...dozen on the way." You smiled a little wishing them all the luck in the world.

Utivich smiled, realizing, like the others, that you really knew a thing or two, "You don't wanna come with us?"

You had heard stories of them, and you wanted more than anything to stick around with them... "I have a paper to write..."

The basterds chuckled, and Aldo stepped up. The basterds always had room for one more, but you didn't. What with school, and the 'job' they all admired you for, you didn't have much time to run around France with them, even though you wanted to. They knew you were a smart kid, in fact, it was the only reason they could think of that you were still alive. They saw the kind of work you did in one night, and realized how valuable you were.

They also realized how important you had become to them in a matter of hours. They wanted to keep an eye out for you. As capable as you were, war was war, and there were no rules. They wanted to make sure you were safe. Aside from that, you had some pretty helpful information for them. "How's about we make you an honorary basterd, y/n?" Aldo reached his hand out, and you smiled as you shook it. "I'm honored, lieutenant." That was an understatement. All the stories you'd listened to on the bleakest, most dangerous nights were about them. They rushed back into your head as you shook his hand, smiling. This alliance meant the world to you. Your rebellion and insubordination were automatic death sentences. But what the alliance, the resistance, and the basterds were, what they really were to you, was freedom.

You waved goodbye to them, though you wished you could've gone, you knew it wasn't over.

It was the beginning of something beautiful,something powerful, far more than an alliance.

#Inglourious Basterds #Quentin Tarantino #Donny Donowitz #aldo raine #smithson utivich #omar ulmer #hugo stiglitz #wilhelm wicki #hirschberg

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