#mage!Ghost

[humongouspeachinternet]

Pomegranate-flavored promises

Mage!Ghost x Princess!reader

It started out small when the wars of the Northwest began. A rogue mercenary attempting to sneak into the castle, a wickedly curved knife concealed beneath his cloak. Poison in her tea, the side effects nearly killing her and putting her on bedrest for a month. One of her "subjects", after being frisked and searched for weapons upon entry, wrapping their hands tightly around her throat before her knights could get to them to rip the old man away.

Even now, sitting in front of the castle's mage, she wore the bruises of this latest attempt, deep purple blossoming around her delicate throat like a necklace of dark amethyst, as well as the pallor and paleness from her earlier bedrest. The young princess, once a lively and active royal amongst her people, looked small, frail almost in the large leather seat of the mage's workspace. She didn't miss the pity in his eyes nor in the eyes of the bodyguard assigned to her, an armored man squeezed into a tiny chair in the corner of the room to give the mage space to work on the princess.

The castle's mage was a rather large individual himself, all tense shoulders and muscle beneath the civilian clothes he wore. Seeing as he worked behind the scenes most of the time, he didn't have to don the normal armaments of a knight, a royal, or anyone else in the castle. He was free to dress as himself, even if that meant that his visage was obscured by a dark balaclava and a ghostly mask.

Did it make many uneasy? Perhaps. However, he had been in service to the crown for many years now, keeping the royals safe and alive and remaining loyal despite numerous uprisings over the years. Time and time again, Ghost had proved his fealty to his wards, and this time was no different.

Except it was.

It was her this time.

"This is far too much attention... you both should be doing much more important things than babysitting me. I really am fine." She sighs into the silence of the room, voice scratchy from both trauma and disuse as she watches Ghost cross the room towards her, a mortar dwarfed in his large hands. Her bodyguard bristles slightly as the large mage approaches, trying to play off his movement with a stretch of his arms over his head. Hazel eyes watch Ghost like a hawk, unsure as to if he could trust this man with the princess. He'd only ever heard whispers of this mysterious man and the havoc he could wreak if he truly wanted to. He was a force on and off the battlefield, but anyone could be out to get the poor princess nowadays, even a trusted friend in the castle.

Ghost brushes off her comment, coming to kneel in front of her in his chair, hardened brown eyes looking over the deep bruises that he couldn't prevent. How could he have? He was always tucked away in a separate wing of the castle, trying to keep the kingdom afloat with the wars raging outside, always watching from the shadows and stealing glances when he could. He didn't even know of the first few assassination attempts, but now that he did, he knew he couldn't just remain on the sidelines.

"Quiet down. You'll hurt yourself if you keep whining like that." He chastises lightly, his voice deep and soothing despite how he tried to sound stern. How could he with her? He'd never seen her look so... tired. Never seen her struggle for breath, never seen such deep-seated sadness in her gaze, never seen such... resignation in his princess. God, what he'd give to take all of these worries from her. Let him shoulder the burdens, he thought, dipping his fingers into the healing salve before reaching up to gently rub it into the bruises on her throat, his jaw tightening when she flinched at the sight of his hand approaching the tender area. A quiet whine escaped her before she could swallow it down as he massaged the paste into her skin, the soft noise catching the attention of the knight in the corner who moved to the edge of his seat, armor creaking and eyes narrowing with concern for the princess's safety.

Ghost's eyes flicker to the uneasy knight at the slight movement, dark eyes narrowing on him in the dim candlelight in response. That bastard. He'd let someone hurt her and now he tried to play the concerned hero? If Simon had been there, the assailant would never have gotten within two feet of the poor girl sitting upon his chair, but he'd been squirreled away.

He hadn't been there.

And now here she was: injured and in pain.

The thought brings his gaze back up to his princess, a frown tugging at his concealed features as he continued his work, the bruises slowly fading thanks to an enchantment he'd imbued the herbs with. It worked to break up the congealed blood beneath the skin and to take the pain of the marks with it, making it seem like it had never happened, but it did nothing to absolve the princess of the trauma of the event.

The old man had seemed so kind. So genuine. He'd received assistance from the charity organization she'd organized months ago, having run most of it herself before roping more royals into helping their people. War times were hard times, after all, but her subjects didn't deserve to suffer because of it. But it was when he came up to express his gratitude to her, his arms wide for what had seemed like an innocent embrace - something she allowed quite often - that he'd struck. Aged, worn hands wrapping as tightly as they could around her throat, calloused from years of working fields and tending home, fingers overlapping to stop her breathing. It took the guards a few moments to realize what was transpiring, but the man was swiftly pried from her and dragged away, kicking and screaming about how she wasn't safe from this war so long as he lived, as soon as they did. The flurry of activity that ensued around her was lost upon her as she gasped for breath. The man had been so angry, his sunny demeanor from just moments ago morphing into pure rage and bloodlust as he tried to strangle the life from her.

Ghost, focused on the task at hand, was confused as something wet began to drip down his hand, cutting streaks through the smears of herbs. Upon looking up, he'd discovered that the princess had dissolved into tears beneath his careful hand, quickly withdrawing to set down the bowl in his clean hand and wipe the tears from her face with it. He understood the faraway look in her eyes before she squeezed them shut. He'd seen it many times before, in the eyes of men scarred by battle, but it looked so utterly wrong on her.

She didn't deserve this.

"Get out." The burly man growls out to the knight in the corner, tearing his eyes away from her face to stare the man down as he hesitated to move. His job was to keep the princess safe by staying at her side for all hours... but the look in Ghost's eyes told him that he wouldn't be able to do that job much longer if he stayed in the room. Stiff with tension, the knight stands and nods, coming over to the princess to kiss the top of her head and whisper that he'd be right outside of the door if he needed her before exiting the room.

Bastard, Ghost thinks, trying to hold his tongue in front of his ward.

If only she knew what he'd seen that knight do behind her back. Secret lovers were never the most faithful within the walls of castles, but having watched the two from the shadows for so long now, he couldn't bring himself to dull the smile that the man brought to her rosy visage.

How he wished she'd look at him like that.

The slam of the heavy door made the princess flinch beneath Ghost's attentive hands as he thinks, more tears slipping down her flushed skin as the memories quickly became too much for her to handle.

"Was it me, love? Did I hurt you?" He questions gently, unsure as to what he'd actually seen for a moment. Perhaps he'd gotten distracted and pressed a little too hard on a bruise?

A quick shake of her head absolves him of the guilt that threatened to crawl up his throat, swallowing it back down with a deep inhale. Scarred fingers drifted gently over pink-splotched cheeks, wiping his other hand on his clothes to catch as many tears as he could for her, wondering how to best comfort her. His princess. His princess?

"Shhhhh, it's alright. He's gone, it's over." Tear-dampened fingers, careful to avoid her neck, moved to rest against the hair at her nape, his cloth-covered forehead coming to bump gently against her own. He'd seen his fair share of war, of death, of the in-between place. He knew it well. Why did she have to? "Deep breaths, come back to me, yeah?" Taking a deep breath of his own, he waited for her to peek her eyes open and mirror the action, helping her to work through it a few more times before she felt that she could breathe again without her world collapsing in around her.

Growing up, she'd been prone to attacks of the nerves, and, growing up right beside her as the apprentice to an abusive mage within the castle, Simon had figured out that getting her to breathe through it was an almost surefire way of calming her. If that didn't work, holding her to his chest until she could cooperate enough to breathe worked just as well. How useful to him now, locked away in the basement of the castle and far from the woman he adored.

A soft sniffle escapes her as she reaches up to rest her hands atop his, reddened eyes slowly coming up to meet his steady brown ones, tears threatening to spill once more from the amount of concern in his gaze. "I-I'm sorry..." She murmurs, embarrassed to have broken down over something so small when people were dying outside of her kingdom walls, a gentle scoff meeting her words as he shakes his head in response.

"Only you, princess, would apologize after almost dying." Ghost grunts, slowly withdrawing his forehead from hers, but keeping his hand firm on the back of her head to look her over. The bruises that marred her skin were almost completely gone by now, replaced by the sickly pale color that her skin had taken on lately. Curse that poison. If they had caught onto it sooner, maybe she'd have been feeling better by now. "I don't want to hear those words from you again, understood? You went through something traumatic and you're allowed to be upset about it. If anyone says otherwise, you come find me and the problem will be resolved within the hour, I promise."

Listening to the firm promises of her childhood friend, she nods slightly, another sniffle escaping her. "Luke said I was being dramatic... that it had only been a few seconds without air, but it felt like forever, you know?" A delicate whisper, her eyes glancing to the door behind them, knowing that Ghost would understand her position more than her sheltered lover would. A curt nod meets her words, his chest burning with the anger beginning to rise within him. What a proper prick that knight was. And he was her lover? What on earth did she see in him?

"I know. It's not a position you should have ever been put in, your highness." He pauses, hand slipping from her hair to glance at his workbench behind him. An idea had slowly begun to form, pieces falling into place as he remembered an experiment he'd been working on for the king. Eyes slowly returning to the princess, she could see a slight crinkle at the corners of them as the gears continued turning, murmuring quietly into the space between them. "And you won't ever have to worry about it again if I have anything to say about it... wait right here."

Standing from his kneeling position, he was loathe to leave her side at such a sensitive time, but if he thought that he could help keep her safe from now on, he'd do just about anything.

Now, had he tested this new experiment very thoroughly? Not quite.

Would it hurt her though? Never. If he thought it wasn't safe, he'd have ended the experiment as quickly as he started. It was a tense time for everyone and the last thing he needed was someone accusing him of trying to take out the crown.

The young woman curls up carefully in the well-loved chair as she watches Ghost make his way to his worktop in less than two long, graceful strides. It really had been too long since she'd spoken with him like this, just the two of them. Sure, he was invited to every dinner and engagement, but she never seemed to get close enough in the past couple of years to even just talk to him. With the war and the dwindling royal engagements, she hardly even saw him anymore, unaware that he'd never really left her side. He truly was like her shadow, her ghost following her around just in case. In case of what, he wasn't exactly sure, but he was there. Just never when she truly needed him it seemed.

No matter. He'd fix that, he thought, pulling out a few vials of muted colored liquids and powders. "Now I do have an important question for you, your highness..." He speaks, his voice slightly muffled by his mask as he mixes various ingredients together in a beaker, its color... interesting, to say the least. "Pomegranate- or cherry-flavored?" Stirring the beaker, he turns to her, watching with a small smile as her brows knit together in slight confusion, a small chuckle reaching her lips at the thought of him flavoring the concoction just for her.

"Such a hard decision." She rasps out softly, her voice still a bit weak from everything that had occurred, "Pomegranate is always a welcome flavor... what are you putting it in though? I'm not sure I've seen you make something like this before."

Watching him take a bottle from a drawer, the flavoring, and drip a little bit into the mixture, she tilts her head curiously, listening as he stirs it all together and brings it over to place it into her shaky hands. "It's something your father's had me working on lately. He's been worried about getting hurt on diplomatic missions to the battlefields and wanted a way to keep safe before danger reached him." Carefully, Simon places his hands over hers around the beaker, meeting her gaze once more, warm skin over cold hands. "It will tether you to me from now on. My life will be tied to yours and I'll know if something is going to happen to you before it happens."

She purses her lips for a moment, looking down to the swirling liquid in the glass before looking to his hands overlapping hers. Had she always been so pale, so thin, so small? Had all of this stress really done this to her?

"Simon... I can't do that to you. What if I get hurt and it hurts you as well?" She whispers to him, chewing on her bottom lip as she thinks, "Tying yourself to me like this... I can't ask something so large of you."

"You misunderstand, princess. I am not asking this of you. I'm begging you to allow me to do this for you." He corrects, the chill of the floor seeping into his knees as he kneels in front of her again, "Please. This is the absolute least I can do for you, and I am more than happy to give my life, my health, my everything to keep you safe. I don't claim to know exactly what will happen if, gods forbid, anything happens to you, but if it means the end of me, I'd die the happiest man, knowing that you will live on to bring such joy to your people."

The woman before him was stunned into silence, eyes wide and brimming with tears at the thought of him giving his life so freely for hers if that's what it came down to. And he'd do it with no regrets, it seemed. No hesitation was visible in the warm brown eyes boring into hers, but a gentle, begging plead to please let him do this for her. It was just about the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her... and he looked so sincere. Who was she to say no?

With shaky hands steadied by his own, she holds his gaze as she tips the glass to her lips, the scent of pomegranate filling her nose as she took a mouthful and swallowed. Carefully pulling the glass from her lips, Ghost reaches up to pull the cloth of his mask over his nose before guiding both of their hands to tilt a mouthful to his lips as well, swallowing his sip of the potion right after she did, a gentle smile upon his scarred lips all the while.

(Author's note: Hi hi!!! I hope you enjoyed this!! I'm planning on making a part two soon! :) )

[flowerpotmage]

anyway, since im in financial aid hell with my school rn....

simon riley who really is only an acquaintance to you, some guy you're friendly with because you seem to have a similar routine when it comes to the cafe two blocks from your house and the physical therapist office you both attend.

simon, who's on extended medical leave from a torn rotator cuff surgery and six weeks into twelve of his own physical therapy treatment.

simon who overhears you with a friend in the cafe one morning venting your frustrations with the cost of school and the limits of your own finances. who doesn't mention it until you're both in the waiting room, sitting with one chair between you as usual (he's a big guy, he likes the space to spread his legs. he pretends he hasn't seen your glances).

"going back to school, then?" he asks, quiet and gruff as always.

you wrinkle your nose at the reminder of your current stresses. "yeah," you say, staring down at the carpet. "dunno if i can afford it, though. rent's already so high, and groceries, and then this..." you gesture vaguely, but he knows you mean whatever condition it is you're here for is bleeding you dry.

"shame," he says, and leaves it at that.

"what do you do?" you ask after a long moment of silence. a muscle in his thigh twitches.

"military," he says, meeting your eye when you finally look at him.

you nod, a puzzle piece sliding into place about why he must be here in this office with you. "ah."

"benefits aren't bad," he says, quietly. "medical's paying for all o' this." he nods around the room, a much more leisurely mirror of your earlier hand gesture.

"i should hope so, considering they probably put you where you got whatever it is you're here for." the corner of your mouth lifts in a wry smile.

the conversation stops there when one of you is called in to your appointment. simon doesn't bring it up again, not until something changes.

you run into each other at a bar.

simon's got a beer in hand, something cold and refreshing while he catches up with soap and gaz in the corner. they're on a brief leave and stopped by to visit for an evening before fucking off for a week to wherever it is they have plans to be. simon won't ever say it in as many words, not right now, but he's glad to see them, happy to listen to whatever story they're telling him, until he sees you.

he downs the beer for an excuse to go get another, waving off the two men who offer to go get it when he says "need to stretch my legs," eyes fixed on you the whole time.

"celebratin'?" he asks when he slides into an empty space beside you at the counter, catching the bartender's attention for a refill with a lazy raise of his empty bottle.

"simon," you greet in surprise. he nods at your drink and your slight smile slides away. "not really," you reply to his question. "more like drowning my sorrows. i don't think school's gonna happen this time."

simon frowns, eyes scanning you up and down. your drooped, sad shoulders, the sad, slightly bitter smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

"you know," he says, slowly, as if hesitant. normally wouldn't even dare to think it if he hadn't had just enough to drink. "there's plenty scholarships for military spouses."

it's a wonder he can keep a straight face at the shocked raise of your eyebrows.

[sanestkanadefan]

‼️ANY MELANIE MARTINEZ STUFF IS NO LONGER INCLUDED, WE DON'T STAND SA'ERS HERE‼️

[lizzybeeee]

You just know that Alistair absolutely agonized over asking a Warden Cousland about if they've ever lost anyone, only to be hit with the reminder that yes their entire family and pretty much everyone else living within Castle Cousland was effectively massacred.

Alistair - "Have you...had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry, I'm just..." Cousland - "My entire family was murdered just recently." Alistair - "Oh, of…of course. How stupid of me to forget. Here I am going on about Duncan and you…I'm so sorry."

If you're any other origin then it's the first time you've brought up something like this - while Alistair is aware from the get go about Cousland's loss. Likely because it's big news - Loghain even comments on it (as he should!) - and because the Warden can press to try and find Fergus as soon as you leave Ostagar. Not to mention that of all your companions Alistair is easily the most emotionally intelligent imo.

This is the kind of shit that would have me lying awake in bed at night - unable to fall asleep, smothering my face with a pillow. No shade to Alistair, he was in the middle of his grief, but I can 100% picture him lying in bed at night one month, five years, a decade later being like...fuck.

[elizabethemerald]

Aquaman DPxDC Prompt

Real Life Mermaid Danielle

Ellie has explored a lot of the surface world over the last couple of years, but now she has a new place to explore, the entire ocean! Obviously to explore the ocean a little easier she changes her form to that of a mermaid so she can live out every little girl's fantasy (at least according to Jazz) At least until Aquaman finds a child mer exploring the ocean. He and Mera always wanted a daughter. His rage when he finds out she's a clone made by a man she calls "The Bastard" against her template's will will be breathtaking to see.

[saucywendeee]

👻🧼 - Fantasy AU Dark Mage/Prince

[its-leethee]

-- 7x06 // 4x04

i think about these two mirrors every day. gnawing my arm off

...metaphorically. these two might've been doing it literally tho

[asphodelis]

ghosts are canon in jugdral

[thegnomelord]

PLEASEEEEE UR IDEA WITH MAGE M!READER AND MONSTER!COD MEN I'D LOVE THAT SO FICKING MUCH AND YES I AGREE THERE IS A LACK OF ALL THE VIOLENCE

Pov of how the world sees the reader Vs how TF141 reader :D. I'm in the middle of writing the first chapter of a fic with this idea, but guess who contracted TB like some coal miner 😞, me! So here's a sneak peak for the sort of vibe I'm going for while I'm trying to recover:

P.S: Ya'll are free to suggest/requests with this idea cause!

P.S.S: Check out bluegiragi who came up with this AU and give her some love!

Mages and Monsters

Mages are strange creatures.

In a world so full of monstrous hybrids and mythical creatures, mages sit on the proverbial line separating man from monster, stuck in both worlds without any hope of fitting in either one.

Because outwardly, they're average. No different from the billions of other humans. They're not born with the marks of monsterdom; they don't possess horns or leathery scales to shrug off small caliber bullets like dragons do, nor the claws and bone crushing jaws of werewolves, not feathered wings and razor sharp talons of harpies, nor the wraiths ghostly ability to become immaterial.

Outwardly, they're average. Ordinary. Mundane. Human...

Almost.

Because Price and Ghost are experienced enough to see the thing laying beneath the paper thin veneer of normality, are seasoned enough to quickly notice the one thing that puts an 'in' before a mage's 'human' description — Magic. Not the smoke and mirror kind magicians or charlatans use to swindle tourists out of money, but real magic.

The ancient kind, the capricious kind, slumbering like a beast inside the hollowed out cavern of a heart until it awakens with a terrible bloodlust. Each of them can attest to this; Price sports gnarled patched of scar tissue on the scaleless parts of his arm from ice burns, his draconic breath having saved him from frostbite that had devoured more than a few good men. Though Ghost doesn't show much skin, one can sometimes catch sight of branching fern patterns on his neck where lightning magic had shot through him. Gaz's back is peppered with hundreds of little cuts where a glass mage's summoned elegant ornaments had shattered into millions of shards, aiming to take out his wings.

And now Soap sports a mark of his own, his side tender red and blistered with a second degree burn. It could have been much worse, your flames were hot enough to melt steel, the only thing having kept him from an early cremation being the two solid concrete walls your magic had had to travel through to hit him and the enhanced regeneration of his thick hide.

But such power demands a cost — one paid in blood. For magic is as fickle and capricious as a rabid dog, just as eager to lunge for your throat as it will at the enemies, leaving lasting wounds for all to see; rough and calloused palms, skin blackened from blazing heat and freezing cold or marked with fern patterns of electricity, fingers stiff and marred with cuts from thorns and crystals and rock and glass, bone deep cuts where the liquid mana had burst out from the skin, leaving faintly glowing scars that never heal right.

All mages are born with this grievous gift, though one never knows whether it will present itself with a pitiful flicker of embers in a man's dying breath, or with a maelstrom of an infant's first hiccup. That's why most mages are sealed, by choice or force, a process which puts chains on the magic, making it and the mage docile.

But you are unsealed. And you flaunt that fact readily by melting the tail of their APC helicopter with one spell, not even waiting for them to crash before flooding the terrain with suffocating ash, the lenses of their gas masks already fogging up from the heat as they get out of the cloud of heavy sediment before it bursts to flames.

Sometimes the magic becomes unsatisfied with the weakness of the body, demanding more than just its pound of flesh and molding the body like clay to better suit it— Mage Marks, they're called — the subtle glow of magic in your eyes, the mana visibly pulsing inside your chest, the skin of your arms slipping away like wet paper before growing anew, this time mimicking the surface of magma, or the rocky barnacle encrusted reef, the gnarled bark of a tree, the crystalline inside of a geode, the ice spiked ground of tundra, or any other form that suits the magic in your veins.

The process is excruciating, the mana burrowing and gnawing on every nerve like a parasite that replaces what it eats with itself. But to you, that's an acceptable loss, because marked mages far surpass their unmarked fellows, your magic stronger and wilder, feral and viscous like the primordial force of nature.

So it becomes concerning when you're laying on the floor, captured, battered and bruised and calm.

Ghost had been waterboarding you for a while now, your body tied to a chair that had been tipped back so you were parallel with the ground. With water pooling around your head, your top half would have been soaked to the bone had your magic not been simmering in your veins, the magic suppression momentarily reducing the raging inferno in your chest to a meager flicker of flames.

They can't kill you, but limiting your magic for even a second is death in and of itself.

Your breathing is harsh as Ghost pulls away the cloth over your mouth, asking you a question as steam rises from your skin. Most would give in long before this point, but you just grin, eyes glowing with a burning glow, and make a comment about how good his arse looks from your viewpoint.

You manage only one small note of laughter, pitiful embers sparking at the corners of your lip, before Ghost drops the rag back over your face and begins anew.

Price watches all of this, sharp draconic eyes noting how the mana glows in your chest, pulsing like a second heart (assuming you had one to begin with), noticing how the water turns to steam a little faster when it splashes over your skin.

And Price knows.

You... You are going to be trouble.

[thesoulbox]

I LOVE THEM WITH ALL OF MY HEART, THEY ARE SO SILLY AND I WANNA PICK THEM BOTH UP AND SHAKE THEM AFFECTIONATELY, THEY DESERVE NOTHING BUT THE BEST AND THEY ARE MY FAVORITEST DUO IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD, ENJOY MY DOODLES..

[guilhernunes]

scary lovebirds

buy a print

a page with various lovebirds

1- lovebird vampire with a black cape 2- lovebird witch with a wizard hat 3- lovebird on a top of a skull 4- demon lovebird 5- ghost lovebird

[plokster]

Rose for @brionnechu!

[peachi-blossom]

Trios that are better than the Vees

Of all the Vees, I officially loathe Valentino for being constantly babied by Vivienne Medrano and her cult because I just can't hold my anger anymore after seeing the ValAngel poster on Streamily (the artist who drew this didn't even want to ship them). I have written six scenarios of Valentino's punishment.

Scenario 1, he gets beaten by the Powerpuff Girls and gets arrested. Just kidding, he gets a one punch kill from Bubbles. Nobody wants him to live, right?

Scenario 2, he gets soaked by Francisca's Shaken Soda Slider, electrocuted by Zan Partizanne's Rare Electro Eclair, and incinerated by Flamberge's Fast Mega Broiler. The rapist moth is reduced to ashes.

Scenario 3, he gets annihilated by the Azalea Sisters' doppels and the Daito Apartment Trio's doppels. The doppels I'm talking are from the game, not the anime. Or maybe a little bit a both. Rest in peace, Magia Record (August 22, 2017- July 31, 2024). You were a great game.

Scenario 4, he gets melted by Mortality. Everyone wants to see his demise. Plus, nobody wants to celebrate Christmas with him either.

Scenario 5, he gets Oblivion Wing'd (turned into stone) by Yveltal and smashed into pieces by the Elite Trio's Banzai Bill/Bomber Bill. I watched Diancie and the Cocoon of Destruction on YouTube and played Mario and Luigi: Dream Team as a kid.

Scenario 6, he gets beaten up by everyone and sent into the Distortion World by Giratina for ALL ETERNITY. Nobody will find him nor miss him. He will be forgotten by everyone.

I may loathe Charlie Morningstar, but the punishment goes to Valentino because he deserved to die for being constantly babied by Vivienne Medrano and her cult.

Merry Christmas!

[jaypilledsquared]

we need more argonian mages I think. anyways this is ghost-eyes she has that Born Away From The Hist autism

[stardustamaryllis78]

Ziard is the goat 🙏

He got done so dirty this season 😔

Justice for Ziard 🙏

[malky-tea]

Today is the birthday of my friend, as well as a great player and a wonderful game-master in her own right! In honor of that, I drew her character. Sorcerer Nick, a guy with a tragic fate, but the future is uncertain and he tries with all his might to come to a better life. Here he is joined by the ghost of his friend, who died partly through his fault (This friend is still secretly in love with him...). Yes, this guy has a very interesting biography, we can only hope that luck will be waiting for him next