#logan & reaver fable

[fable-finder]

I feel like it’s my job to inform the fine people of fable Tumblr that a fable facebook group WILL NOT STOP posting about wanting to fuck balverines

Now a real image posted in that FaceBook group

If y’all need a reminder of what those fuckers look like here you go

[cocoaletta]

realizing i never elaborated on this. so basically i thought reavers color scheme and fable 3 was odd cause white and black is an odd combo for steampunky colors esp if there isn’t a lot of brown. but they’re also too drab to be flamboyant reaver colors and like, it’s just a weird color combo. anyways i fell into a rabbit hole about colors in the victorian era and their common usages and white, black, and purple are all common mourning colors. sure i guess you could argue that these colors on the characters represent wealth and prestige but if i was reaver and the bestie died, id be dramatic as fuck about it too. anyways there’s a lot more under the cut so fuck it

disclaimer I know fable 3 isn’t explicitly set in the Victorian era but it takes a LOT of inspiration from early Victorian/Industrial era Britain, enough so that I feel its fair to interpret through that lens.

Reaver

Men’s wardrobes were often fairly muted with some browns allowed, and colors would differ depending on the period of mourning you were in (black> black and grey> black and white> black/white and purple> normal colors again)

also important to note that the mourning period would change based off of how close you were with the deceased. Mourning could be anywhere from a few months to a few years.

Black silk top hat with a seven inch crepe (the band on the hat) that is either black, grey or beige.

His clothes are all white with black trimmings which would have been common half mourning attire

ALSO his undershirt under his brown vest is black. Which is also just uncommon in the Victorian era and also in fable 3 lmao, no one fucking dresses like him

his cravat is also black which you literally do not wear unless you are in mourning. Its weird

Like sure you can say he wears white cause he’s a factory owner and is able to stay clean cause he’s rich, but who shows off their wealth in the dullest, most drab colors. All the other nobles walk around in the brightest, most vivid, eye assaulting color combinations, why is he different. Here are some examples of black and white half mourning and quarter mourning attire.

Most of the examples are women’s clothes because um, Victorian misogyny and women being expected to mourn longer while men were expected to be breadwinners and provide for their families. But if you read through old magazines and guides from the time you’ll find that men also wore similar clothes made with the same colors and materials, just usually for a shorter period of time.

In conclusion you can interpret this as however you like but personally I like this idea cause his clothes are just so ugly otherwise.

Little bonus to talk about the HOBW and Logan because they both wear purple and you could fairly interpret that as “oh those are royal colors” “purple is meant to be a neutral color opposed to blue or red”. But look.

Purple, specifically purples with white were often worn by the children of the deceased while in mourning as drab colors would raise an ‘unpleasant child’.

[youcantdateosmosisjones]

[aragaki]

"Reaver is a distasteful creature... but do not underestimate his uses." (x)

[auduux]

Me playing Fable 3: I'm not the hero I'm a pie dough roller, please stop degrading me when I mess up :( Me Playing Fable 2: I'm not the hero I'm a woodcutter, please give me money :( Me Playing Fable: *Charges full speed into bandit camp that has my sister in it* Me Playing Fable Journeys: FUCKING HORSE WITH THIS GOD DAMN CART

[annoyed-galaxy]

Alright I wanna make my own damn poll.

Fable fandom, let's go.

[1ncend1ary]

fable but they r rats

[dewdlebot]

I can absolutely see Reaver as Logan and the Hero’s father but not in a loving dad kind of way more like Mama needed a sperm donor and Reaver is passable in bed. He does not get visitation rights.

[decaying-raven-scratch]

sketches of the family

Sparrow is such a dedicated father for them, Reaver is more like a wine aunt I suppose, rare visits and too much money

[mythuzalasheir3]

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-

[fable-finder]

It’s kind of weird to believe that sparrow only has two children, being Logan and the hero from fable three, because when I play fable two I spend 90% of my time sucking and fucking my way throughout Albion. The amount of STDs that I have is the most important stat I ever check, it’s like a treat at the end of the day for all the hard work I do spreading all of my diseases to my multiple spouses.

Yeah, sure the only reason why I save my family at the end of the game is because I want my dog back, but honestly, the amount of children I have is bordering on concerning by that point.

No wonder why Hammer will never love me… at lest I still got Reaver

[cocoaletta]

hi fable community

sorry no art but i have another gift

https://uquiz.com/9vhMI5

[youcantdateosmosisjones]

fable shitpost (pt 1)

[sterlinggalaxy13]

Reaver, Logan, and Sterling cosplay as my Fallout OCs Reaver, Logan, and Sterling Galaxy. :p

[gromzomb]

they;re so real (losely based on some fanfic i read like a year ago)

[annoyed-galaxy]

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