Ghost Float By SilverSoulArtist On @DeviantArt

Ghost Float by SilverSoulArtist on @DeviantArt

Reposting some old art here of my long time oc, Max the ghost. He will get some minor redesigns, including a refreshed backstory.

Despite being based on an owl, Engel is not too picky when it comes to foods. The sweeter and tastier the better. Veggies raw tend to be a bit bland (except for cucumbers and celery), but he enjoys eating them cooked.

The bird is addicted to all kinds of fruits. Apples, bananas, oranges, and especially berries. It is not surprising to find a whole box of strawberries or blackberries gone within hours of being brought home from the store.

Fruit juices and teas are his common choice of drink. He will not turn his noise up at coffee though, Engel will just fill it with sugar and cream. Alcohol is an occasional treat, especially fruity drinks. Mind you, he is a lightweight and easy to get drunk.

Playing with a new sketch brush.

Engel got popcorn. Tis a happy boi~

The cutest zombie ringmaster ❤️ :D

Thing for a circus AU with @souls-rpsandocs ~

🍀 luck

Send a symbol for our muses to discuss.

“Luck? Hmm...”

The topic was indeed surprising, drawing the nurses gaze up from the paperwork she currently had been reviewing. Her gaze met the other, pondering silently as to what brought this question up to begin with. Humming a moment in thought, Lia replied.

“I am not much of a believer in luck. Or even fate for that matter. I tend to lean in favor of chance. That things occur in ratios and possibilities. Even if it is near impossible, nothing is truly impossible. Just not as likely. And when those amazing moments occur, well, I believe that’s when refer to that slim chance as luck.”

The nurse cocked her head to the side and asked “What do you believe in? Do you think luck is real?”

“ what happened to you? “

Send me    “ what happened to you? “    for your muse to find mine bandaging up a wound.

Jumping at the voice, Engel’s black feathers ruffled in a puff as his spun his head to stare towards them. He was in the midst’s of wrapping gauze around his arm with tell-tale signs of other scrapes and bruises on his body, a few feathers missing from wings. On the sink was an open first-aid kit, the bird having riffled through it guessing which things would be needed to tend to himself.

A soft grey blush bloomed over the avians cheeks, offering a sheepish smile as he chuckled.

“Funny enough, I clotheslined myself while in the midst of flight. Took a bit of a tumble in the alley, nothing serious! At least it was not a window this time.”