#my pigeon loving warlock

[crimsaros-art]

Seivry

[pigeon-ponders]

my siblings helped me do starcrossed on legend so i could get the wishkeeper catalysts and riven plushie!!

i'm so happy we're all playing together now 😭

[i-hug-exploder-shanks]

A Cautionary Tale: Saint-14's Blunder

"Some still speak of the day, in hushed tones in the shadows corners of the tower, that Saint-14 fucked up.

The guardians know better than to speak the words too loudly for the great warlock Osiris is able to be anywhere and everywhere at once, but they have to warn the new lights of this cautionary tale.

You see Saint-14 and Osiris have faced unspeakable odds and still come back to each other with their bond stronger than ever. Their story is one of love conquering even time itself. So what could break such a perfect couple? What could bring the greatest love of the ages to a shaky edge?

It was not the hive, fallen, nor even the terrible vex. No my sweet blueberries, It was a bird.

Don't laugh, it's not a joke. Look to your elders and see their expressions little lights. Birds are no laughing matter in the tower. You have seen Saint's flock of pigeons, haven't you? Heard the tender way he calls Osiris his phoenix?

But this bird was neither of these. No, this bird was a Crow. A scrappy little Crow with a broken wing that Osiris found lost and abandoned by its flock. He was very protective of his little Crow. So protective that when Saint upset the little bird, even by accident, Osiris fell into a fit of rage even at his most trusted partner.

He yelled so loud you could hear it on the other side of the city. He snarled and hissed like a mother cat protecting her kits- honestly if you were there it was kinda sweet but you didn't hear that from me- anyway! The point was, Saint-14 was brought to his knees, pleading for forgiveness and repenting his mistake.

What? What did he do? I told you, he made Crow sad. Oh, how? Well Crow had this frankly stupid haircut and Crow overheard Saint joking about it to Geppetto. Oh, no I didn't mean an actual bird. I was being dramatic. Saint-14 and Osiris adopted the Vanguard Crow ages ago back when he was all sad and broody. Anyway, the lesson to be learned here kids, is to never insult Crow where Osiris can find out and he will find out no matter where you are. You should never-"

Osiris crossed his arms raising an eyebrow at the ghost bobbing on a plain tower shell surrounded by new lights and when one of the young hunters turned and yelped it caused the group to scatter like cats from a cucumber.

"Sagira, you can't keep doing this or none of the new lights will ever look at me without jumping." He tsked at her and she giggled as she moved to hover over his shoulder.

"Don't lie, you love watching them cower. Plus, it's funny to see how they all look at Crow after. He has no idea why he has an army of tiny guardian ducklings trailing him." She said dawning her usual shell with a flash of light now she wasn't trying to secretly spread rumors through the tower.

"At least you stopped telling them all I was in my boxers when I yelled at Saint. They really don't need to know those sort of things." He sighed as they headed toward the hanger.

"It was hilarious! You telling off Saint for making fun of Crow's terrible haircut while wearing nothing but your boxers and slippers and sleep robe! I can't believe Crow was brave enough to wake you up to make sad eyes at you over Saint mocking him. This is why he's my favorite." She chirped and Osiris rolled his eyes.

"I thought he was your favorite because he and Glint saved you from the traveler and helped you regain your memories so we could be reunited?" He hummed and she bobbed.

"You can have more than one reason for someone to be your favorite Osiris. After all, I'm sure there's many reasons I'm your favorite." She teased and Osiris frowned.

"When did I say you're my favorite? Did I not tell you of my close bond to the pooka I adopted?" He asked and grinned as she started ranting about how much better she was than some over-empathetic flying fish.

[kb1301]

I need a quick O14 fic so I've made this.

Holding the Sunrise

The soft murmurs of slumber echoed quietly in the bedroom. The rise and fall of Osiris’ chest were accompanied by his constant erratic shifting. He rarely dreamed this apparent, mostly having slept with the vagueness of his subconscious or a sleep devoid of it. And yet the faint and distant nightmares of his body’s dispossession were recalling to him in his sleep. A mind locked out of its own vessel. It was nothing but a distant memory and yet the aftershocks were palpable.

His body twisted and turned, his face contorted as if he winced and grimaced at what his mind was comprehending for him. He’d mutter “No… not again” repeatedly, trying to escape the thought of Savathûn, the Witch-Queen herself.

Before anything could get worse, a large hand came along the Warlock’s shoulder, rustling it gently to get him out of his nightmarish stupor.

“Osiris, wake up!” The synthetic voice of Saint-14 was one of worry and care, his purple optics stared at his partner concernedly. He was sleeping alongside him, letting his internals and functioning rest from yesterday’s activities.

“My Phoenix, please.” He resumed to nudge Osiris, getting him to awaken completely. His face shifted to complete concern, hearing each and every grunt and pained sound from the Phoenix. Alongside it, his optics gazed at the way his eyebrows wrinkled or how his jaw churned.

The Exo knew this occurrence often. In a frequency between one to two weeks, he’d face Osiris’ problem twice. He wasn’t always prepared, but his senses were tuned enough to know when it would happen. The most that he could do was to console him, to soothe him, to hug him and hold him closely as if to never let go.

Saint’s nudging and rustling came to bear fruit as Osiris woke up wide-eyed and his mouth gaped in shock. “I…” He was catching his breath, the beating heart inside him drumming at a great pace. And without hesitation, Saint grabbed his partner and embraced him deeply, his grey metal arms and hands already enveloping the smaller frame of the Warlock. The large hands rubbed the back of Osiris’s bed robes, seeking to comfort and soothe him out of it.

“I’m here Phoenix. As always.” Saint held onto him dearly, whispering comforting words to his ears as he made sure to relax Osiris. His partner could only return the favor physically, having his own arms and hands encircle the Titan, feeling the fabric of the clothes he wore to sleep and the smooth metal plating beneath. He placed his head near the larger man’s chest, hearing the faint workings of the Exo’s body from it.

“Thank you dear.” A faint smile made contact with Saint’s chest, and he noticed it well. He could feel the slow rush of calm from his Warlock again, letting out a robotic sigh of relief. “I thought I’d lose you again Saint. To have my mind broken and locked out of it… it scares me.”

“You need not be scared love. I am here, you will not lose me,” Saint’s hand cupped Osiris’s cheek, turning him away to face each other. “And I won’t lose you too.” He leaned close and moved his mouth to Osiris’s forehead, kissing it gently.

Osiris’ tense shoulders relaxed at the kiss, smiling one more time. “I know, Pigeon. I thank you for that.”

Saint guffawed at the affectionate nickname he’s been called over and over before pulling him close again and letting them fall together to the pillows behind them. “I will have to keep you close then.”

“You—“ Osiris wasn’t able to act at all as he was attacked with an affection that grew with time. He was embraced deeply, held onto tightly, kissed on the neck and on the cheeks on his lips. They laughed together as the feelings of earlier discomfort faded away into nothing, replaced by love and affection and the sweetness of the morning.

Cool wind flowed through the curtains of their bedroom and the remnants of dark blue from the horizon faded as the glimpse of the sun rising hit them. They lounged on their bed together, keeping each other close, holding their hands together as they began to recount what has transpired for them in the past few days. This was their moment of relaxation, of intimacy, of togetherness. And they will cherish it all.

[hidden-scarlet-whispers]

My darling Guardian Oc

First Name

Astral

Middle Name

Nípan-Inocciduois-Ascian

Last name

Astrolatry

Race

Awoken

Age

Psychical: 32

Resurrected: 882

Gender

Masculine

Pronouns

He/Him/They/Them

Disabilities: Glass Right Eye, Speech impediment (stuttering & slurring words)

Accessories: Jewelry/Chains embedded in his body

Cleanliness/Grooming: Impeccable

Posture/Gait: Perfect, Tense, Formal

Tics: Pigeon Sounds, Constantly moving hands

Coordination: When in a combative/important situation, impeccable, when relaxed, terrible due to loss of right eye.

Sexuality

Asexual

Romantic Attraction

Homoromantic

GUARDIAN STATUS

Class

Warlock

Subclass

VoidWalker

LOOKS

Skin colour

Purple W/ White spots

Eye colour

Pure White W/ Star-Like Specs

Hairstyle

Long Curly, Shaved on One Side, Grown Out Enough To Allow Some Curls To Form On Shaved Side

Hair colour

Purple-White

Height

6,6

Weight

120 LBS

Figure

Hourglass, boney

PERSONALITY

Positive

Decisive

Sincere

Punctual

Commanding

Analytical

Negative

Emotionally Unintelligent

Obsessive

Arrogant

Insecure

Distant

Likes

The Arts

Astronomy

Pigeons

Hot Chocolate

Alone Time

Dislikes

Public Spaces

Brash Noises/Movements

Ignorance

The City

The Speaker

Successes

Mastery Over The Void

Multiple Published Books

Failures

Inability To Maintain Romantic Relationship

Inability To Harness Solar Light

Mannerisms: Tsking, Whistling, Biting lips, Darting eyes, Eye contact either excessive or avoidant, thousand-yard stare, Tracing scars, Covering mouth whilst laughing/smiling, Cracking Joints, Wild Gesturing when passionate,

Educational background: Self-taught, mentored by The Speaker

Intelligence: 260, Super Genius

Self-esteem: Outwardly, very arrogant + egotistical, Internally, Crippling Fear and insecurity.

Hobbies: The Arts

Skills/talents: The Void, Extremely Fast Learning, Extraordinary Memory.

Loves: …

Morals/Virtues: Respect, Perseverance,

Phobias/Fears: Social Phobia, Agnosiophobia

Angered by: Infactural Assumptions

Pet peeves: Random Touches, Loud Speaking

Obsessed with: The Void, The Darkness

Bad habits: Easily falls into Isolation

Desires: A Romantic Relationship, Understanding

Flaws: Paranoid, Self-Destructive

Quirks: Snorts when Laughing, Loves Purple

Secrets: The harm that his isolation actually causes him

Regrets: Becoming so lonely and a legendary figure.

Languages known: English, Sign Language, Japanese, Spanish, French

Preferred communication methods: Letters or One on One Verbal Communication

Accent: Mixture of French, English, Mexican, and Japanese accents for a variety of words.

Style and pacing of speech: When Tense, Firm and Slow Speaking, Careful in pronunciation and elegant Wording. When Relaxed, Stuttering, Slurring words together, quickly speaking

Pitch: Sorophic/Hypnotic, Crisp, Ethereal

Laughter: Snorting, ‘Chocking on Air’ Mainly silent when truly laughing, booming

Smile: Hidden, rarely shows teeth

Extra Info

OCPD, Anxiety, Depression. Easily turns to obsession and isolation, struggles with any kind of socialisation not pertaining to combat/knowledge

Lived alongside Osiris in the Iron Temple, but chose to not be mentored, though many Iron Lords wished to teach him… likely just to understand why he was so powerful with the void.

The closest Iron Lord to become a mentor was Felwinter, but their bond was more familiar than anything.

The Speaker was his first and last mentor, and thus he became close with Saint aswell. Worked alongside Osiris and Saint when Osiris became Vanguard Commander, The Speaker exiled Astral a few years before Osiris’ Exile

BACKGROUND

Post-Resurrection and Red War

Astral is both the Young Wolf and Older, resurrected at the beginning of the Dark Age, he’s one of the oldest Guardians alive, he was resurrected in deep space however, it took him some decades to reach Earth. Carries more personal connections with the older Guardians that YW does in accordance to canon.

Post-Red War and Present Day

Essentially followed the storyline, but Petra was the one to kill Uldren, he didn't personally care for Cayde-6. Enjoyed aiding Osiris and later Saint 14 the most. Now he continues with his personal research, away from the city. Though he remains quick to defend it.

Personality {0-100}

Anger: 35

Arrogance: 90

Bravery: 95

Charm: 10

Combativeness: 25

Cunning: 90

Confidence: 90

Emotionality: 20

Empathy: 35

Extroversion: 0

Forgetfulness: 5

Hostility: 50

Impulsiveness: 30

Intelligence: 100

Jealousy: 25

Loyalty: 95

Materialism: 80

Maturity: 90

Naivety: 0

Optimism: 15

Patience: 75

Pettiness: 30

Rationality: 85

Realism: 55

Responsibility: 80

Selfishness: 40

Seriousness: 80

Sociability: 10

Stubbornness: 60

Trustworthiness: 85

Vanity: 100

Relationships: {0-Hostile, 35=Frenemy, 50=Neutral, 65=Friends, 80=Best Friends, 90=Crush, 100=Lovers}

Ada-1: 50

Amanda: 45

Ana Bray: 55

Asher Mir: 75

Banshee-44: 65

Cayde-6: 35

Sloane: 50

Zavala: 65

Crow: 80

Devivrim Kay: 65

Drifter: 40

Caiatl: 60

Eris Morn: 70

Eva Lavante: 55

Exo Stranger: 45

Ikora Rey: 35

Saladin Forge: 85

Shaxx: 85

Mara Sov: 35

Misraaks: 70

Osiris: 90

Saint-14: 90

Petra Venj: 35

Rahool: 50

Shaw Han: 75

Hawthorne: 60

Tess Everis: 50

The Spider: 0

Variks: 75

Xür: 65

Forever Friend: Saladin Forge

Nemesis: The Spider

Rival: Petra Venj

Mentor: The Speaker

Student: Crow

Trusts The Most: Osiris, Saint,

Trusts The Least: Spider, Mara Sov

Would Die For: Anyone 50 And Above

Merely Tolerates: Drifter

Confides In: Shaxx

Platonic Contact: Zavala

Misses The Most: Sagira

Doesn't Understand: Mara Sov

Favourite Vanguard: Zavala

Enemy They Understand: Vex

GHOST

Name

Sagitta

‘Keystone’

Gender

Feminine

Ghost Shell

Sanctified Vigilance

[godza]

before i go to sleep here are some thoughts on my fave d20 characters

sofia: the legend. does so much fucking damage with her bare hands. also the warlock pact with the cat is awesome. emily plays great warlocks. shes just iconic. the glowup from her sad intro character art to her ready to fuck shit up with spectral cat claws. love how her wiki lists jesus as her deity. we love an italian american queen. the constant staten island jokes were funny. i wanna go to spaghettis. i havent seen s2 btw

kugrash: what can i possibly say about this man that hasnt been said. he will make you cry this tiny rat man will make you sob like a little baby. i dont wanna give you spoilers bc its better to figure his deal out by yourself. if it gets spoiled for you itll ruin it like it did for me. still fucking awesome though. city druid is such an awesome idea we love the spicy pigeons

riz: murph continues to make little loveable guys. riz is my fave fh pc forever. also another guy who i wont say too much about. the bad guys have every season just have it out for riz specifically. they woke up one day and said hey fuck this goblin in particular. hes responsible for the two scariest scenes of sy. baron my weird little skeleton boy. god riz is so. hes so! hes awesome. murph tries so hard to make him seem dorky but then he absolutely destroys it in battle. 3 feet of pure badassery. family of badass goblins.

baron: now. not even a pc hes an npc. again i cant explain his deal. the ep barons game is seared in my brain. sometimes i imitate him saying rizs name to stim. just really good mouthfeel. i wanna know more about the baronies what goes on there.

skip: oh i have opinions on skip but you need to watch the show to figure it out. its ep 2 where you figure out whats up and itll fuck you up like what huh huh?! its so good his whole deal is amazing. im on ep 15 im so scared. tempted to save the last few eps for the plane but i know i will be losing my shit. god starstrucks such a good season thank you brennans mom

kipperlilly: another npc. i will not explain her deal. but i will never hate an angry teenage girl. i could defend her till my last breath. like yeah she did all that shit what about it

fabian: character arc. good shit. fabians no good very bad day is a classic. im scared to rewatch it because it was so bad. sy happened in like two weeks. worst week of everybodys lives but thats kind of a low bar these kids dont get a break. him and the bad bitch he bagged by absolutely fumbling everything else. jy went so bad for him except for the end. never leave him unsupervised again or he'll shit himself again. god this is just me rambling i have autism

[pastelmagpie-t]

Current dnd group!

Meet the LUNARtics (name is in need of workshopping)!

This ragtag group of people came together after the moon was moved closer to Earth and flooded half the planet. They set out on a journey to one of the few remaining floating cities where they learned that the corrupt government (a few elite members) where using their magic and influence to take advantage of the flood and the victims of it. The group set out to stop this corruption and in turn were labeled enemies of the state. They then discovered that a moon cult, supported by the same corrupt government, was responsible for the flood and ventured to another island to put the moon back in place. They succeeded and named themselves (very apparently but unfortunately) the Lunartics. However, they were no longer able to return the city and instead were sent cryptic mission assigned by an unknown god to another land where a civil war has broken out. Here the group must figured out what this god wants of them while surviving the onslaught of other conflicts, enemies, and moral choices. Yay!!!

Anyways, here’s a look at the group!

Red: This is Brook, the chess themed human barbarian whose shirt always rips off and only moves in chess formation. (Fun fact - He wears clown shoes that makes him move like a million miles per hour and once left a Brook shaped hole in a mountain face.)

Orange: This is Marlow, the potoo aarakocra necromancy druid who may or may not be a religious terrorist. (Fun fact - During our first combat encounter, he ate a goblin whole…..)

Yellow: This is Aurialee, the sea-elf blade singer wizard who is kinda the only stable one in the group. (Fun fact - She wanted to call our group the Immovable Squad and was so upset that we didn’t choose that name that she went and stole an actual immovable rod.)

Green: Aye yo it’s Wynnie (my character)!!! If this is your first time seeing her she is a half-elf warlock who grew up on a cattle farm, has an obsession with cabbage, and has a familiar rat named Vye. (Fun fact - Just recently she summoned a flock of sniffer rat familiars to help find and uncover victims of a landslide (I rolled a nat 20!) and has now fully embraced being the rat lady.)

Blue: This is Clovis*, the pixie sorcerer who is a leader of a drug cult and who gave up his love for everything but his brothel wife to own a god. (Fun fact - He had a pet pigeon at one point, but he forgot them on a beach somewhere. (Rip piggy))

Purple: This is Erevyss, the edge lord Drow rouge/bard who tries to act cool but always ends up with his face in the mud. (Fun fact - Him and Wynnie have a love hate relationship where they bully each other constantly.)

(*Before Clovis, there was the knome fighter, Cordelia, who betrayed our group by killing our favorite alley and then left with all our loot. Reference group photo top right corner.)

[box-dwelling]

Obviously DND class preferance is a very personal thing and I don't fault anyone for their preference but as someone who likes to used DND for creative puzzle solving, I really am finding myself only ever wanting to play druids and clerics. Paladin and artificer are also great, I have played a lot of paladins and it used to be my favourite class, but I do find myself getting frustrated with the leveling up of them being half casters because it kind of annoys me that I spend so much time with only low level options. But I love starting a game with a situation and a big list of "stuff that I could use" and then picking what fits. Wizards are also great for this but the spellbook systems limitations often frustrate me a little too much and those limitations are doubled on the spell casting of warlock and sorcerer. But I'm finding myself wanting to branch out to new classes but feeling stuck because I feel like I'll get pigeon holed. I obviously don't want to be able to do everything but I do want to be able to contribute to everything. Especially if that's boosting my party members. I may not be able to pick that lock but hey rouge do you want a D4 from guidance? Maybe I'm not dealing a ton of damage but I just healing worded our barabarian so he's back up. Oh we're fighting in water, what if I made a whirlpool to send them all into one spot so our spellcaster can throw an aoe spell to get them all in one hit. I love doing stuff like that. But I just worry I'm limiting myself to these two classes. I've never played a barbarian or a fighter but everytime I roll one up I just see that I only have a couple of situational abilities and 90% is just hit bad guy with sword and I get cold feet. Idk cleric and druid just feel like they challenge me at the table and they're nice because I get to boost my party members too. Idk if anyone else feels like this at all

[wizardingwirelessnetwork]

Books, children’s stories and comics in the WW

There’s much more than just school text books in the Wizarding World, so as logical it is to assume that muggle borns read popular muggle fairytales during their childhood, it’s equally logical to think the same about magically raised children! And adults ( we known how those witches piled up for Lockharts autograph in Diagon Alley lol )

Here’s a list of wizarding books that are not Hogwarts textbooks

Children’s stories:

Tales of Beedle the Bard - book containing many wizarding fairytales. Stories in the book: The Tale of the Three Brothers‘ ; ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune‘ ; ‘The Warlock’s Hairy Heart‘ ; ‘The Wizard and the Hopping Pot‘ ; ‘Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump‘. As Ron says his mother read the book to him when he was young.

Toadstool Tales - a series of adaptations of other works, written by Beatrix Bloxam. They contained soppy, "sanitised" versions of other works, including The Tales of Beedle the Bard, which was Mrs Bloxam's way of purifying them so as to preserve children's innocence. The book is universally loathed by wizarding children

Comics:

Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle - Ron liked these comics a lot since he had a stash of them in his bedroom

Loony Nonby v.s. Cornish Pixie - read by Dean and Harry

Fiction:

Enchanted Encounters- a series of books written by the author Fifi LaFolle

Sports:

Beaters' Bible - by Brutus Scrimgeour

Beating the Bludgers - A Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch - by Kennilworthy Whisp

Flying with the Cannons

Noble Sport of Warlocks - by Quintius Umfraville

Official Guide to the Quidditch World Cup

Quidditch Through the Ages - Kennilworthy Whisp

Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland

Wonder of Wigtown Wanderers - by Kennilworthy Whisp

A Snitch in Time

Numerology:

New Theory of Numerology

Astrology:

Atlas of Celestial Anomalies - M. P. N. Carneirus

Magical Creatures:

Aquatic Wonders of Yorkshire: A Wizard's Field Guide

Bestiarium Magicum

Children's Anthology of Monsters - Newton Scamander

Dreadful Denizens of the Deep

Enclopedia of Bat Eyes

Hoax and Dreams - Laura Thorn

House-Elves & Self-Hatred

Little People, Big Plans - Ragnok the Pigeon-Toed

Lizard's Claws From Africa

Magical Creatures (book)

Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs - Dylan Marwood

Most Macabre Monstrosities

Newts of Bognor - Walter Aragon

Owl Breeds

Why I Didn't Die When the Augurey Cried - Gulliver Pokeby

Which Owl? - Miranda Goshawk

You & Your Owl

Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit

Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland

From Egg to Inferno: a Dragon-Keeper's Guide

Men Who Love Dragons Too Much

A Dragon-Keeper's Guide

Book on Hippogriff-baiting

Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology

Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality

Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires - Eldred Worple

Vampire's Monologue - Amarillo Lestoat

Hairy Snout, Human Heart - anonymous author

Hunting Werewolves

Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live - Emerett Picardy

Herbology:

Encyclopedia of Toadstools

Good Gardens Guide 1990

Goshawk's Guide to Herbology - Miranda Goshawk

Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs - Hadrian Whittle

Magical Mediterranean Water-Plants and Their Properties

Shrubs & Trees for the Garden - Arthur Osborn

Sub-Aquatic Botanical Mysteries

Wanderings of a Tree in the Alps

Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants - Selina Sapworthy

Charms and spells:

Book of Charms & Spells, The

Achievements in Charming

Charms for attraction - Griselda Gogh

Charms of Defence and Deterrence - Catullus Spangle

Cheering Charms

Extreme Incantations - Violeta Stitch

Chadwick's Charms: Volumes I - VII - Chadwick Boot

Advanced Charm Casting - Eulalie Hicks

Abracadabra: An A-Z of Spooky Spells

Ancient thieves' text

Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed

Charms of Defence and Deterrence - Catullus Spangle

Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions

Confronting the Faceless

Curses and Counter-Curses - Vindictus Viridian

Dark Arts Outsmarted

Guide to Advanced Occlumency

Jinxes for the Jinxed

Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook

Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts

Self-Defensive Spellwork

Evelyn Starling's duelling book

Updated Counter-Curse Handbook (Second Revised Edition)

Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimensy - Franciscus Fieldwake

Magick Moste Evile - Godelot

Secrets of the Darkest Art - Owle Bullock

Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration

Transformation Through the Ages

Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks

Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts

Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions

Spell journall - Miranda Goshawk (spell journal only)

Book of Charms & Spells

Book of Spells - Miranda Goshawk

Easy Spells to Fool Muggles

Gilded-covered spellbook

Jiggery Pokery and Hocus Pocus - Brian Gagwilde

Slytherin's Spellbook - Salazar Slytherin

Alchemy:

Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science - Argo Pyrites

Alchemical duodecimo

Potions:

A Humble Guide for Potion Brewing You Cannot Live Without - Blossom Degrasse

Asiatic Anti-Venoms - Libatius Borage

Book of Potions - Zygmunt Budge

Have Yourself a Fiesta in a Bottle! - Libatius Borage

Moste Potente Potions

Potion Opuscule - Arsenius Jigger

Spell potions - Tim

Love Potions - Salamander

Cooking and housecare:

Charm Your Own Cheese - Greta Catchlove (revised edition by Gerda Curd)

Cooking the Muggle Way - Mordicus Egg

Enchantment in Baking

Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests - Gilderoy Lockhart

One Minute Feasts - It's Magic!

Practical Household Magic - Zamira Gulch

Divination:

Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul

Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming

Omens, Oracles & the Goat - Bathilda Bagshot

Oracle of Palombo - Bathilda Bagshot

Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks

The Predictions of Tycho Dodonus

Xylomancy - Selina Sapworthy

Education:

Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe

Preferred Preface for Perfect Prefects

Revision guides:

Cram It!: How to Soar on Your O.W.L.s

W.O.M.B.A.T. Revision Guide

Magical health:

Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions

Healer's Helpmate - H. Pollingtonious

Healing at Home with Herbs - Phyllida Spore

Biographies/autobiographies:

Armando Dippet: Master or Moron? - Rita Skeeter

Biography of Uric the Oddball - Radolphus Pittiman

Dumbledore's Army: The Dark Side of the Demob - Rita Skeeter

He Flew Like a Madman - Kennilworthy Whisp

Horticultural History of the Blackwood Maze

Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore - Rita Skeeter

Magical Me - Gilderoy Lockhart

My Life as a Muggle - Daisy Hookum

My Life as a Squib - Angus Buchanan

Snape: Scoundrel or Saint? - Rita Skeeter

Biography of Harry Potter - Rita Skeeter

Historical magic:

Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms

Guide to Medieval Sorcery

Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes - E. Limus

Decline of Pagan Magic - Bathilda Bagshot

Historical wizards and witches:

Famous Fire-Eaters

Fifteenth-Century Fiends

Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century

Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy

Notable Magical Names of Our Time

Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts

Prefects Who Gained Power

Historical magical things, places and events:

Big Foot's Last Stand - Ortiz O'Flaherty

Dominating Dementors: A True History of Azkaban

Impenetrable Azkaban: The Hidden Prison to Escape in the World

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Who Am I? - Gilderoy Lockhart

[glowstickverse]

Pigeon and The Eyeless Warlock 

for my creative writing seminar i got to write abt my silly lil wizard elf and how he lost his eyes. i don't put a lot of my writing stuff up on here or my main acc, but i had a lot of fun with this piece and also its MY oc blog and i get to post what i want (*˘︶˘*)

word count: 6k-ish, cw: implied eye trauma

The sunrise was beautiful on the day Pigeon lost his eyes. 

In the morning he was roused by the sound of bustling feet and muffled voices traveling up and down the hall outside his room. This was not necessarily a rare occurrence in the R’adagast household, but it was one that sparked his curiosity nonetheless– curiosity that quickly overtook any drowsiness still lingering in the back of his mind. So he sat up, rubbed his eyes free of the fog of sleep, and headed out into the corridor, still in his salmon colored nightgown. 

Despite dawn just barely beginning to break, the whole estate was buzzing, filled to the brim with servants rushing from place to place, each seemingly fretting over their own equally important task. Pigeon dreadfully wanted to stop someone and ask what all the fuss was about, but decided to keep his questions to himself for the time being, lest he interrupt the workers’ flow. His bare feet padded softly against the carpeted floor and down the wide, spiraling staircase, tracing a hand along the banister as he followed the flow of the crowd.

The height of the activity seemed to be originating not from the main foyer, but from the ballroom. As the group he was trailing after began to trickle through a set of ornate gilded doors, Pigeon gasped at the sight beyond them– the normally barren dance hall dripped with crystal, polished and buffed like he’d never seen it. Large swaths of white and blue roses blanketed the walls and ceiling, linked together with pearly silken ribbons, and long, sweeping tables laid across the glistening floor, each lined with fine porcelain plates and silver goblets. Instantly, the reason behind the morning’s hustle and bustle became clear. 

A sudden tap on his shoulder interrupted his admiration of the elaborate decor. 

“Master Gwydion?”

Pigeon grinned brightly and turned, quickly recognizing the voice. A stout, olive-skinned dwarf in a neatly pressed butler’s uniform stood behind him, wielding a stack of blue satin napkins in one arm and a large bundle of cutlery in the other.

“Good morning, Torsten!” Pigeon greeted them jovially. 

Torsten returned his smile with one of their own, albeit a tad more muted in its warmth. “Good morning, young master. It’s rare to see you up so early. I hope all this noise did not wake you– as I’m sure you can tell, things are a little hectic today.”

“It’s okay! This is much more exciting than being asleep! What’s going on? Is it…” He paused, looking left and right, then dropped into a hushed whisper. “Is it a party?”

“Indeed it is, young master.” Their tone was amused. “I see that your observational skills are as sharp as ever.” 

Pigeon’s smile widened, threatening to split his cheeks; he bounced up and down on his heels in an attempt to curb his obvious excitement. “I thought so! What kind? Is it a masquerade like the one Lady Cersei held last winter? Or is father hosting another diplomat? Oh! Or is it a banquet? I love when we have banquets! There’s always so much leftover food!”

“I’m afraid I’m not privy to exactly what the occasion is, Master Gwydion, as I am currently on table-setting duty,” Torsten responded, chuckling, “But if I was to gander an assumption, I’d say Master Alduin is expecting an esteemed guest of some sort. He usually only orders for the fine silverware to be used if whoever we are feeding is very important.”

As they spoke, they shifted the cutlery they were holding from one hand to the other in order to tuck a stray curl behind their ear. Pigeon followed the movement with his eyes and frowned, his brow furrowing. 

“That seems like a lot to carry, Torsten..” He cocked his head to one side. “Can I help?”

They blinked at him for a moment, the question slowly registering, before their bushy eyebrows raised. “Oh, no, young master– there is really no need for you to exert yourself–” 

“I wouldn’t be exerting myself, honest! It’ll go faster with the both of us working together!” His gaze brightened, his excited bouncing growing more pronounced. “Plus I just learned that cool levitation trick the other week– I can use it to help put up the rest of the flowers! Please? I’ve been wanting to use that spell for ages!”

Torsten took in his look of anticipation and let out a quiet sigh. They shook their head, relenting, their wild brown curls straining to escape the strict bun they were trapped in. 

“If you insist, Master Gwydion. Take the silverware and follow me, then.”

“I do insist! Ah– and hey, you know I told you you can stop calling me ‘Master Gwydion’ when it’s just the two of us. Call me Pigeon!”

Torsten laughed softly and raised a hand in placation as they turned, already continuing on their way to the dining tables. “Of course, Master Pigeon.”

Pigeon puffed out his cheeks in a frustrated pout as he followed behind them, arms now loaded with utensils. The staff that maintained the R’adagast mansion were all very understanding of and receptive to him deciding to go by his birth name, but some of them simply refused to drop the formalities, even when his father and stepmother weren’t around. Torsten was the worst of them all. Every time he asked them why, they told him it was simply because that was his title, and they felt it was only right for him to be addressed as such. He could agree with their logic, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

As they worked, dawnbreak crept slowly and steadily over the horizon, tinging the brightening sky a warm, rosy orange and causing ribbons of warm sunlight to cascade across the floor. The rays bounced off the crystalline walls, refracting into thousands of tiny rainbow specks. Pigeon paused in his adjusting of a tablecloth and peered through one of the ballroom’s towering arched windows, looking out over the skyline. Plains of soft wheat danced gently in the morning breeze. The slope of the hill leading to his family’s mansion slid down toward the village square, and beyond that, behind slanted roofs and slightly smoking chimneys, the rest of the world loomed, huge and unknowable and tinted gold by the rising sun. 

Pigeon thought himself exceptionally lucky to behold such a sight.

He moved to return to the tablecloth, and as he did, caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. He met his own eyes– big, bright, with irises of glowing silver; silver like his father’s, and his grandfather’s, and every other powerful mage in his family. He and his reflection stared at each other for a single moment before he smiled and gave the mirror a big thumbs up– and then flinched as the dance hall’s doors flew open. 

Lord Alduin R’adagast strode purposefully to the middle of the polished floor, hands held aloft as he barked orders at a gaggle of servants following in his stead. His voice, loud and commanding, echoed off the marble walls, his perfectly coiffed hair bouncing lightly every time he turned his head. 

“– they go in the ballroom, yes, along with the rest of the floral decorations. And please, make sure there aren’t any more yellow roses, that is most certainly not what I ordered. They clash terribly with the rest of the bouquets; we’re supposed to be respectable, for goodness sake. And another thing, where is that blasted caterer? He was supposed to be here almost half an hour ago! Apparently, not everyone in this kingdom understands that I am not a patient–”

Alduin turned his head, arms still outstretched, and finally caught a glimpse of Pigeon near the window. “–Gwydion, there you are! Finally! What in heaven’s name have you been doing? Don’t tell me you’ve been in here, fraternizing, all this time…!”

Pigeon opened his mouth to answer his father’s question, and then quickly shut it again when he raised an impatient hand.

“Ah, what does it matter, just– come here, now! I need to speak with you about something very, very important.”

As Pigeon made his way across the ballroom, Torsten met his eyes to shoot him a sympathetic look, to which he responded with another bright grin– a grin he quickly replaced with a dimmed smile when he stopped in front of his father. 

“Good morning, father!” he said politely, doing his best to feign as much innocence as he could, “Why’s everyone running around so much today?” 

“That, believe it or not, is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” Alduin responded. He took him tightly by the arm and began walking back toward the ballroom doors, effectively dragging Pigeon along with him. “You see, this evening, an extremely important sage, as well as her entire entourage, is coming to visit from the Eastern Shrine. So Cersei and I are throwing a bit of a party in her honor.”

“Oh, gosh– wow!” Pigeon stumbled a bit in his effort to keep up with his father’s long strides. His mind spun with excitement; he hadn’t attended a R’adagast party in years– is that why his father had been looking to speak to him? Would he possibly be allowed to go this time? “That– that’s so amazing, father!”

“Yes, very much so. And what would be more amazing is if the sage is impressed with our family’s prowess and the state of the village and thus agrees to pay us for our magical services. Considering how wealthy she is, that could, potentially, fund almost all our endeavors for the next several years.”

“That would be more amazing! I hope it works out!”

“Hm, yes, so do I. You can imagine I wouldn’t want to take any sort of chance that this night could be jeopardized, thus tarnishing our reputation, yes?”

“Of course, father, we would never want that. That would be horrible!”

“Indeed it would be. I’m glad you understand, Gwydion. In that case, surely you don’t mind making yourself scarce today, do you?”

Pigeon blinked up at him. “Huh?”

Alduin stopped abruptly, turning to give Pigeon a tight-lipped smile. Servants wove around where they stood in the middle of the foyer. “It’s just that this night is so important, Gwydion. I can’t afford even the slightest mistake! And having you around, well…” He gestured vaguely with one hand and heaved a hefty sigh. “We managed to mostly recover from the scandal, but to have that mark on our family’s history be brought to light again could ruin everything. I can’t risk it, not when there’s so much at stake– not just our reputation or our standing, but our future, our legacy, as well. Not to mention there’s that blasted Warlock fellow running around. We’ve already received upwards of a dozen letters of complaint– something about him stealing people’s sight? Ah, it’s all a load of codswallop, but the townsfolk are getting rowdy regardless. I mean, you can see how much pressure I’m under!”

“I.. Ah, but–!”

“Sorry, boy, no buts. You’ll just have to find something else to entertain yourself with today. You’re good at that.” He moved the hand still grasping Pigeon’s forearm up to his shoulder, giving him a couple firm pats. “Maybe the next party, eh?”

Pigeon looked down at his father’s hand. Against the dark brown of his skin, its color was almost reminiscent of milk. He nodded. 

“Yes.. Yes! The next one.” 

“There you go.” Alduin gave his shoulder another pat before walking back towards the ballroom, his attention instantly shifting once again to shouting at the servants. 

It wasn’t the first time his father had given him a speech like that. Pigeon had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last, either. Still, he couldn’t help getting his hopes up a little.

The next one, definitely, he thought to himself as he made his way down the corridor. I’ll definitely be allowed to go to the next one.

There were certainly things that he could do around the mansion that would keep him busy and keep him out of sight, but Pigeon had other ideas for how he planned to spend the day. It wasn’t often he got the chance to wander around on his own; usually he was stuck in divination tutoring or private evocation lessons or helping the staff reorganize the library, things that required him to spend most of his time being trapped in the ivory tower that was his family’s estate. So, whenever he had the opportunity to do what he wished, there was only one place he really wanted to go: into the village. 

He bounded quickly up the stairs to his room, snatching up his favorite yellow cape and worn leather satchel. It was harvest season, and despite the relatively high temperature, the weather was always slightly too unpredictable for comfort. After making his way back down to the foyer and past the ballroom– pausing only briefly to peer wistfully through the gilded doors– he turned down another corridor, then another, then another, finally stopping just before a large, gold-plated painting. He wasn’t positive who the painting was of; if he had to guess, he’d assume it was an ancestor of some sort, but he didn’t recognize them and he’d never bothered to check if he was right or not. In any case, the painting itself wasn’t important. It was simply there to keep the pathway hidden. Pigeon pulled lightly on the portrait’s frame until it swung open with a soft creak, stopping only briefly to check if anyone was around to see him, and then quickly climbed inside. It was a bit of a squeeze, even for him, but he’d been down the darkened passage so many times that he could very easily maneuver himself through with little to no complications, and soon enough he was pushing against a small wooden door and crawling out into the day. The sun beat down, gentle and warm, on his skin, and Pigeon took a moment to breathe in the morning air, allowing it to fill his lungs before letting it out again with a soft sigh. 

“Alright,” he said to himself, brushing stray bits of dirt from his cape, “Let’s go.”

The hill leading to the village was a bit steep, so Pigeon took his time walking down it, making sure to mind his feet. As he got closer and closer to the small brick buildings and faded cobblestone of the town, he felt his steps grow all the more lighter until soon he was almost at a light jog, unable to control his enthusiasm. 

People bustled about the square, some sitting by the fountain at the center, sharing bread and fruit, others just beginning to complete their morning routines. The sound of idle chatter and the smell of baked goods and hay wafted through the air. Pigeon walked slowly, leisurely; he took the time to wave at the townsfolk, said good morning to those he recognized, gave a smile to those who passed him; there was no need to rush, no need to skim past greetings and ‘how do you do’s. The village was so unlike his family’s manor, with its high marble walls, the distilled way they spoke to one another. Here, everyone felt much more alive. 

What to do first? Well, it was morning, and Pigeon hadn’t eaten yet. He figured he’d start with breakfast and work out the rest from there. 

Breakfast was a shortcrust pastry filled with sweet strawberry jam. He chatted with the baker as he ate, asking about her kids and her wife, if business had been good, about what had been happening in the village lately. The conversation was just as light as the pastry, and the baker gave him an extra croissant for the road, to which he bounced up and down and thanked her profusely. 

As Pigeon left the bakery, a quick burst of wind sent a poster flying off the shop’s window. He chased after it, finally catching up after pinning it down with his boot, and went to stick it back on the glass. There was no portrait, just a slightly blurry photograph of a tall, hooded figure leaving an alleyway, a single gnarled hand peeking out from under its robe. 

‘The Eyeless Warlock’, it read, ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’.

He looked at it for just a moment longer before returning it to its place. There’d been a lot of those posters popping up recently. With all the rumors and tall tales flitting about the village, he was surprised his father’s guards hadn’t caught the guy yet. 

The rest of the morning passed in a blink. Pigeon hopped from storefront to storefront, browsing with little intention of buying anything and making light conversation with the shop owners, some of whom he knew, some of whom he didn’t. The sun made a gradual path across the sky, and though its rays were warm, the late autumn breeze kept the temperature down. Pigeon found himself glad he remembered to bring his cape. This proved to be even more true when midday began to turn to afternoon, and clouds started to form overhead. It wasn’t raining quite yet, but rumbles of thunder threatened the inevitable. 

Before he knew it, it was early evening. The sky was beginning to bleed pink at the edges and the clouds that blanketed it grew dark and heavy. Though he was sure the party wasn’t over yet, he could tell the horizon was about to open up, and he didn’t want to risk getting caught in a storm. Pigeon decided it was probably time to start heading back home. If the festivities hadn’t ended, he could just hide in the library until they did.

He made his way slowly through the small, winding streets. The village was much emptier now; it seemed he wasn’t the only one who was hoping to avoid the rain. As he meandered towards the town square, a lone woman in a loose cotton dress rushed up from behind him, almost knocking him off-balance. Her dark hair was wild and tangled, her eyes filled with an indiscernible emotion. She kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, clearly shivering, and stopped only briefly to apologize before beginning to rush off once more. 

“Wait, ma’am–” Pigeon untied his cape, swiftly pulling it off and holding it out before she could get too far. “Aren’t you cold? Here, take this!”

The woman stared at him. Her expression was guarded, if not fully suspicious. “.... I’m– I’m fine. In any case, it’s yours, I couldn’t… take it..”

“But it’s going to storm! And I have other capes, it’s okay!” He held it out a little further, mentally encouraging her to take the covering. “Please?”

A tentative pause, and then slowly, she reached out, delicately removing the cape from his outstretched hands as though afraid she would damage the fabric of it. Fingers shaking, she draped it over her shoulders. 

“Thanks,” the woman said softly. Pigeon went to tell her it was no trouble, but she was already averting her gaze and rushing away. He watched her go for just a moment before he felt a single raindrop hit the top of his head, and looked up in surprise right as a flash of lightning lit up the quickly darkening sky. The storm had arrived.

Now walking much faster than before, Pigeon hurried down the main road towards the village square, throwing his hands over his head in an attempt to shield himself from the gradual drizzle. The town wasn’t very large, but its streets and alleys were almost labyrinthine in nature, winding around in snakelike circles, and it was easy to get lost if you weren’t careful. Though Pigeon had wandered through the maze of the village many times, he wasn’t good at paying attention to where he was going, and soon, a lot of the houses began to look just a bit too similar. Starting to get a little worried about the impending thunderstorm, he picked up the pace; paused to change directions, turned left and then turned right; passed the bakery and the blacksmith’s house and a feeding trough now devoid of horses; ducked into an alleyway– 

And stopped.

There were other people in the alleyway. Pigeon recognized them both immediately, though he had never seen the taller figure in person before.

It surprised him to find out that the Eyeless Warlock was not, in fact, eyeless. Pigeon could see very clearly that the figure in front of him actually possessed many eyes– many, many, many eyes– in a variety of sizes and colors, hanging from his robe like ornaments decorating the branches of a tree. Some dangled in a bunch from his belt like a bundle of garlic heads, tied together with thick, dark string. He stood statuesque, his stature slim but imposing, and though he’d turned slightly when Pigeon entered the alleyway, his long, thin fingers remained, poised and pointed, over the terrified face of a woman kneeling at his feet– the woman Pigeon had met just minutes before. His yellow cape was still wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her hands were bloody, as though she’d been clawing at the ground.

For a long moment, no one spoke, and no one moved. 

“.... You’re that bastard child of Lord R’adagast’s, aren’t you?” 

The voice that came from underneath the tattered hood was nothing like Pigeon expected. The stories the townspeople told of the Eyeless Warlock had made him sound much more like a beast than a man, like a monster from eons ago, like a long-dead spirit. Don’t go out at night, they whispered. Don’t look him in the face. If he speaks, don’t listen. He appears where the candlelight is dim. He’ll steal your eyes! He’ll claw them right out of their sockets, and then he’ll leave you blind and bleeding in the shadows of the street!

All those stories had Pigeon made assume that were he ever to meet him, the Eyeless Warlock would growl and snarl, his words coming out in a hiss; that he’d groan ancient, evil spells that could boil one’s brain just by hearing them, but the voice that came from underneath the tattered hood was none of those things. It was soft. Almost lilting, in a way. If it wasn’t for all the stolen eyes littering his clothes, one could even say the Eyeless Warlock sounded gentle. 

“Yes, sir, I am.” Pigeon spoke politely. Surreptitiously threatening or not, he was still to mind his manners when addressing a stranger. “How did you know? I’m not wearing my crest.” 

A pause, and then a raspy laugh came from the shadows under the robe. The Warlock raised the hand that’d been resting at his side– ashy skin stretched unnaturally over bones and cartilage– and gestured upwards. 

“My dear child, your eyes! There’s not one noble family for miles with eyes like those. So unique, and such a beautiful color. They’re a symbol of your magical prowess, you know.”

A rush of joy swelled in Pigeon’s chest. Though he made no attempt to hide his lineage– much to his father’s chagrin– it always made him feel so dignified, so honored to be recognized as a R’adagast. His silver eyes were the one thing fully linking him to his loved ones, the ones who allowed him to live in luxury and prestige alongside them despite his… unfortunate conception. He was deeply proud of his eyes. They were a permanent reminder of the family he loved so dearly, the family he so desperately wished to prove his devotion to.

He fought off the urge to preen with satisfaction and instead stifled his excitement in order to focus on the matter at hand. His gaze dropped to the woman kneeling at the Warlock’s feet, the way she curled in on herself as if attempting to hide away, and in an instant, his mind was made up. He took a step closer.

“I’m going to have to ask you to step away from her, sir.”

The hand hovering above the woman’s face did not move. “I will. But first, she must give me what she owes.”

“What does she owe?”

The Warlock tilted his head to one side, and the eyes attached to his robe seemed to jingle like bells with the movement. “Are you merely curious, or are you insinuating you’d be willing to pay the debt in her stead?”

“I will pay her debt.” Pigeon took another step. “Please tell me what she owes.”

Another pause, and then– though the expression was still shrouded in darkness– the Eyeless Warlock smiled. Pigeon did not see his smile. It was more that he felt it. 

“This young lady owes me her eyes,” said the Warlock. 

The woman at his feet let out a muffled sob. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” she mumbled, almost more to herself than anything. Her cheeks were wet with tears and spit. “We were starving, I didn’t have a choice.”

Pigeon looked down at the rambling woman, his heart hammering, and sucked in a breath, bringing his gaze back to the Warlock’s shadowed face. “I don’t particularly want to give you my eyes. I like being able to see.”

“Most people do.” His voice was laced with amusement. “And I don’t imagine your father would be all too pleased about you losing your family’s mark. You R’adagasts are such a dreadfully proud bunch; always so obsessed with… image. You, however, don't strike me as particularly egotistical. Though, you’re not exactly a full R’adagast, are you?”

A rush of defensiveness, quick and hot, rose like a wave in his stomach, and Pigeon stiffened, crossing his arms. “Are you interested in negotiating your price or not, mister?”

The Warlock seemed to study him for a moment. His fingers, still poised above the woman’s eyes, twitched just slightly, and Pigeon felt his gaze travel slowly over his body, starting from his still bare feet, then making its way to the ornate satchel he carried, and finally coming to a stop on a pack of playing cards just barely peeking out of the bag’s side pocket. 

“Are you familiar with Kings in the Corner, child?”

Pigeon blinked. Of all the answers he was prepared for, that most certainly wasn’t one of them. He adjusted the strap of his bag. “Um, yes. My half-siblings and I played a few times when we were young. Why… Do you ask?”

There was a beat of silence, and then the Warlock lifted his hand away from the woman’s face, raised it above his head, and in a single movement, brought the hood of his robe down with a flourish. Salt and pepper curls hung around a wizened face, and a jet-black eye stared. The other eye was blinding white, the only identifiable color being the strange, molten gold of its pupil. Neither eye looked like it belonged there.

“I have a proposition for you, young R’adagast,” said the Warlock, taking a sudden stride forward. Pigeon fought the urge to flinch. 

“What sort of…. proposition?”

“Let’s play a game. Kings in the Corner. If you win, I will take my leave, and the young lady’s debt will be forgiven.”

“... And if you win? What happens then?”

He cocked his head and smiled a smile that was pervasively passive, as though he knew something Pigeon didn’t. “Then… I take your eyes as payment instead.” 

Easy. Too easy. Pigeon knew that it was too easy, knew that he would be a fool to trust the deceptively serene, smiling figure in front of him. He looked down at the cards tucked into the pocket of his bag, then up at the shaking woman still huddled at the end of the alley. She stared back at him, her face tear-streaked and filled with fear, her hands clutching desperately at the fabric of his hooded yellow cape. 

…. It’ll be alright. Even if things go wrong, it’ll be alright. I’m sure my family will understand, he thought. Besides, it’s just a card game. How hard could it be?

Pigeon withdrew the pack of cards and sat down cross-legged on the damp cobblestone. He met the Eyeless Warlock’s gaze with what he hoped came across as firmness, as determination, as strength.

“Okay. Who’s dealing?”

It took him eight minutes to lose. 

Up until that day, he’d never really thought about what it would be like to have his eyes gouged out. He imagined it to be painful– and it was, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, but what Pigeon didn’t expect was the darkness that followed, the disorientation that came with it. The way the world didn’t go black, not really, because that wouldn’t be an accurate way to describe the sensation of being able to see one minute and then not being able to the next. It was more like the world vanished. Like everything around him suddenly didn’t exist. He reached his hands out– or at least, he thought he did– and they collided with nothingness. He was still in the alleyway, he knew he was still in the alleyway, but for a long, terrifying moment, it felt as though he was nowhere at all.

He didn’t know where the Warlock went after it was over. The woman was the one to help him climb, slowly and agonizingly, back up the hill to his family’s manor, and with every step they took, she apologized. 

“I’m sorry,” she babbled, over and over and over again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Pigeon wanted to tell her it was okay, that she didn’t have to be scared, that the Warlock wouldn’t bother her anymore and she was finally free, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. His lips were wet with the taste of rain and copper. Each movement he made was punctuated with a deep, white-hot pain that resonated through his entire body, stemming in horrible pulses from his now empty eye sockets. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to stay conscious all that time, despite the pain and the blood loss– presumably shock? Whatever it was, it quickly began to wear off once they reached the mansion.

He was right when he’d assumed the party wouldn’t be over yet. As he and the woman pushed their way through the towering oak doors of the estate, he could instantly tell that the foyer was still packed to the brim with guests. The screams that rang out were deafening, but Pigeon’s ears were ringing so much that it muffled the sound almost completely. His body sagged as the woman laid him against the cold marble floor. Faintly, as though from a great distance away, he thought he heard Torsten shout something, but it was quickly swallowed up by his father’s voice, thundering above the muted cacophony. 

“Alright, everyone, so sorry, I’m going to have to end the party early! Please make your way out the front, sincerest apologies for this little hiccup–”

The words melted away with his fading consciousness. As his eyes fluttered closed, Pigeon soundlessly wondered how the sunset looked that night. 

He hoped it was beautiful. 

[just-a-queer-dramatic-disaster]

My favourite tropes

I don’t know how to think a plot so here I am with a list of different things I love in books!

Relationships

found family

love was there. it didn’t make any difference but it was there

enemies to hesitant allies to brothers (“we’ve been through too much together for me to hate you””oh.”)

mentor to father figure

childhood siblings who grew up to be on different sides of the war

found father figures (bonus point if sunshine child AND gremlin child are “adopted” by stoic character)

I wouldn’t marry me either x I would marry you with paper ring

A fell first, B fell harder

they're Of Religious Significance To Me And I'm Being So Brave About It

guard dog x owner

leader x anarchist

Very specific tropes

parent/ sibling/ lover makes an impossible choice which means inexplicable acts of violence to protect the loved one

dead pigeon trope: coward character who only wants to be praised and admired dies alone like pigeons on the streets the moment they try to help the heroes (ex Peter Pettogrew)

female rage + revenge, cutting an aristocrat’s head off and throwing it at feet of the mother in the middle of a ball then the rebels break into the room and makes a slaughter

Great Villain wants villain to shoot the hero but they shoot sone pillar of the structure and run away

Great Villain getting stabbed in the back by unexpected character

prophet grabs the villain’s hand and shows them their bodies rotting and being eaten by worms because that’s the end that awaits us all

children who try to follow their parents footsteps (bonus if what they believe are lies) (double bonus if there is a metaphorical scene where they recognise their footprints)

character holds their bleeding childhood sibling in their arms, crying and calling out desperately their name. Their magic heals their friend and them they turn towards the horrified antagonist and make them torch in two with pain. (bonus if they were always a collected nice person)

hugs when they think the other one was dead

characters loosing a rouse

chaotic character is unable to take seriously their friend on the dark side

character hugging the dead body and refusing to let go

young character hugging another child who indirectly and involuntary killed their father

throwing up after using magic (“there there, all out”)

attempting to bring back someone from the dead

a character wants to sacrifice themselves because their suicidal but gets stopped

everyone thinks the recently redeemed villain will join back the dark side but they’re only bluffing

recently redeemed villain finds out their a victim and the pain they have caused

only one character trusts recently redeemed villain and they put their lives in their hands with success

villain who was pretending to be a good guy joins again the dark side but they hate it and they hate they hate it and they help the heroes (ex. they backstab the Great Villain)

old colleagues kidnap the redeemed villain as a hostage and they torture them. Meanwhile the redeemed villain thinks that the heroes won’t come(“You think they care about me? send them my head in a basket and they’ll answer with a thank you card and some whiskey. They don’t give two shits if I live or die” the friends are in the same room undercover/ invisible)

ex enemies fighting back to back entrusting completely each other

A: Let’s make a deal. I’ll stop smoking if you stop hurting yourself. B: Deal./ years later B joins the bad guys. A takes out a cigarette and smokes on B

"Why would you do that?” “I’m not sorry” “It was reckless and meaningless and-“ “You would have died! I was trying to save you!” “Now you suddenly care?" ”Of course I do, goddamit! you’re my friend, A.”

"I didn't know where else to go"

”Who did this to you?”

Karma and guns

bluffing

Characters ideas

prophets

warlocks

hippies and rockstars

kind, selfless character

cunning, brilliant character

living weapon character

asshole characters

drunk prince who wasn’t made for that much responsibility

stubborn characters who truly believe in their cause until their last breath and will not give up

chosen one by a false prophecy

Jonathan Smith is having the weirdest day ever

character who try to hinge on their faith in humanity with their life

blonde hair and horns and amber eyes and fangs

mothman

medusa’s curse

Themes

faith in humanity

communities of outcasts

revolution trope 

monarchy to messy democracy 

revenge arc, love corrupts

redemption arc, it’s messy, it’s hard, it’s worth it

domestic arc before redemption arc

[thecorazone]

Oc questions based on @saint-14s-gay-pigeon ask post

(Because I know no one would ask me and I want to flesh my characters out. Any questions I answered in my sheet I will not answer again) ((I will post the link to ask at a later time))

Admes Galan

1.What is your Guardian’s favourite colour? Is that preference reflected in their gear and/or appearance?

Blue is one of her favorite colors and is reflected in her gear. She is also a fan of multiple shades of blue.

2.What is your Guardian’s favourite season/weather?

She's a spring gal through and through, she's loves the feeling of life.

3.Is your Guardian part of an established fireteam?

Admes was part of a fireteam with Kota-8 not long after twilight gap. After Xäræswulf-2 rezzed, they joined together to form fireteam Fenrir.

4.What’s a talent/hobby your Guardian has outside of combat?

She has a talent in diplomacy that is evident in how easily she can speak and get along with others. A hobby she has out of combat is writing about anything really.

5.Which NPC does your Guardian get along with the best? What do they like about them?

She gets along well with both Ikora and Osiris as teachers. She admires their wisdom and grit. She has always been strongly connected to lightless civilians, so she and Hawthorne get along well. She also admires Hawthorne for her confidence and bravery.

6.Are there any NPCs they’re especially at odds with? Why don’t they get along?

She finds Tess Everis extremely annoying and scammy. She just finds Spider to be a deplorable creature.

7.How would your Guardian comfort a friend after receiving some bad news?

Hugs and full force empathy inbound. Out of fireteam Fenrir, she is the best at comforting others.

8.What is your Guardian’s idea of a good party/celebration?

A loud exuberant party full of fun, she's a hard partier.

10.What does your Guardian do to relax? Do they ever relax?

She likes to go on walks or find a random group of people to gab with. She also likes to perform minor pranks of the people she knows.

11.Does your Guardian have any tattoos/piercings/engravings/other body modifications?

She has a long piercing on one of her ears.

12.Your Guardian is in charge of arranging takeout and a movie for the fireteam to enjoy together; what kind of food and genre of movie would they pick?

She would order food from a Doner and settle done with some animated movies.

13.How does your Guardian show affection? Are they very free with their affection or is it typically reserved for a special few?

She is very affectionate and touchy, a little difficult with her standoffish teammates. This also applies to other people.

14.A Warlock has invited your Guardian to an hour of quiet group meditation; does that sound appealing to them? Would they go regardless?

Yes, if she had work or research, she would bring it along to work on it instead.

15.How would your Guardian dress for a formal/black tie event? How about for a day at the beach?

16.Is there an animal that you associate with your Guardian or that you feel represents them?

A Hyacinth Macaw, with her proclivity to talk and her favorite color.

17.Is there a specific weapon or type of weapon that they’re most comfortable using? How about one they rarely, if ever use?

She adores Vex Mythoclast (she likes to steal it from Xäræswulf's Vault from time to time). She has a strong dislike for autorifles, which is funny considering she likes Vex

18.Does your Guardian have any bad habits or vices?

A terrible workaholic and can sometimes be overly friendly and excitable.

19.Did your Guardian kill Uldren or did Petra?

Admes was not the guardian that killed Uldren

20.Does your Guardian like to dance? What’s their go-to emote, if they have one?

She is not much of a dancer compared to the boys, more of an item emoter.

21. What was your Guaridan’s reaction when meeting Crow for the first time? How has their impression of him changed over time?

She was wary when meeting Crow, though not openly hostile. Over time, she warmed up to him but is still a little distant

22. How does your Guardian feel about using Stasis?

She was very against it at first, though torn at the thought of actually being able to test something closest to the root of Darkness and help humanity.It took her having a lot of help from Wolf and the Darkness Vanguard to hone her skills. It still makes her uncomfortable to this day.

23.What are your Guardian’s thoughts on Misraaks? Caiatl?

She believes that this is a great boon and achievement for humanity, Eliksni and Cabal. She believes both Misraaks and Caiatl to be brave in doing what never has been done before.

24. Where does your Guardian live/stay while not on duty?

Admes has always lived in a city apartment, one of which Kota likes to commandeer more often than not.

25. What is your Guardian’s Ghost’s name? How is their relationship with their Ghost?

Admes' ghost is called Othonos (Greek for Wealth or more accurately fortune in this context). Her relationship with her ghost has always been positive even if she gives him an aneurysm every time she does something inadvisable.

[turnip0revoluti0n]

Warlock Rouge

Basically they have one for the bazaar and madness whilst they proform a symphony of chaos and love and joy city pay them to stop yet they cause more and more chaos bring forth thy steed (an tram arrives early by 5 mins) to camolot "this is a Yellow line service now going to camolot garden centre" yes it's brilliant my plans going perfectly

Meanwhile

The party

Oh wait weren't we sponce to get that tram Hay we get the next one and then we meet them there

Camolot garden centre:

Wow look at that architecture look at that beautiful stutrue what's your kind name I explore The garden centre with the quest item an fake tudor rose whilst waiting for the tram I admire the building some more walking backwards onto the tram

The party gets off an Wizard in fustiom cast fire ball I get blamed for the fire I befriend a pigeon and transform into it whilst carrying the Rose get show off the tram

The party carchs up and says we finally found you ( they talking to a pigeon who only speaks French realising that they don't understand it they walk anway but for it was I as I don't speak French I just repeat the café menu)

[texeoghea]

river my beloved.... i think her wings are barn owl wings

[pigeon-princess]

I've been loving going through the #dungeonsanddating hashtag on twitter inspired by @kroovv's awesome template so I decided to give it a whirl! pov: Eddie finds you passed out drunk in an alleyway after a night out at the local tavern ✨❄️

[sualne]

working on that lineup