#bun witch

[fire-bay]

Do not touch the bunny souls

[kashewkiddo]

Old fanart for @fire-bay’s OC!

[zackieart]

Bun Witch

[nina-scribbles]

My second AF attack of the year, on @fire-bay's lovely Bunwitch, Bell!! The Attack My AF Profile

[laurenluvss]

SPRING

"Where flowers bloom so does hope."

[internetcontentchampion]

Hell yeah! I love @fire-bay and this is so good!

Bun Witch Attack for Firebay on Artfight! This design was rad and I had lots of fun with it.

[tilda-rothery]

I'm a bit late for the 'I prefer girls' challenge, but alas, here I am nonetheless.

Better late than never, eh?

Has this been done for Hicsqueak yet?

[crescentmoonsandroses]

Drew Vamp-Chan and Skulls from @theskeletongames' fic The Skeleton Games. It was fun, I love how much shorter Sans is than Vamp-Chan. (Actually, I'm pretty sure he's supposed to be a bit shorter, but I forgot to check the height chart before I drew it. Oh well.)

Underfell was made by Vic the Underfella. The Skeleton Games and Vamp-Chan belong to Poetax.

[fire-bay]

bun knife

[honeydewcorporation]

Oh this is a fun one!!

House of Stairs - M.C. Escher

I like these little things a lot. They make me happy.

The fisheye perspective really makes the space feel open even though it's chalk full of creatures.

Fun Honeydew Fact: I once sculpted one of them out of clay.

Odile's Low-Health Portrait - InsertDisk5

AKdjghsdgasdlfkjagdlajsdlajsdfk

I'm unbelievably gay about this look!

Any time I saw it in-game I felt my face get really hot.

Winter Bun, A Nightly Stroll, Fancy Hat, Bun Bun, or really any art by Fire-bay (My beloved.)

I love how she draws such extravagant but simple clothes.

And their color choices are absolutely gorgeous!

Honestly they're one of my top art-heroes in terms of "OH STARS I WANNA DRAW LIKE HER SOME DAY"

Aforementioned lesbianism

Flag of Libya (Before 2011)

I think it's really funny that it's just green.

"What do you think's in Libya?" "Probably plants" "Yeah, no reason to expect anything else"

Was my favorite flag for a while (New favorite is the Sapphic Pride flag)

Have at thee!

@felixcloud6288 @spectator-lawful-evil @additional-pylons

Tagged by @kaiserin-erzsebet

rules: post 4 pieces of art you like and make a poll so that people can vote for their favourite, then tag 4 friends to do the same

La ofrenda - Saturnino Herrán

Almond blossom - Vincent Van Gogh

Justicia - Luis Nishizawa (the whole mural but this is a little extract of it)

La marcha de la humanidad - David Alfaro Siqueiros (biggest mural, most pics don’t do justice)

@lemon-bats @snow-kiddo

[dipperscavern]

Dippy, I am currently staring at the full moon (which looks awfully large mind you) and though of Reader who practices witchcraft and does lil rituals on full moons. Wanted to see if you could write a little something like that? If not that's cool, not sure what your religion or practice follows and I know some people may be uncomfy writing that :)

If you do write it, could you maybe do it where Bolton!reader finds an old witchy book in the library of Winterfell and takes great interest of it and Jon catches her doing a silly little ritual to keep the North safe. I just thought that would be real cute lol

- Bolton anon <333

absoloutely!! thank u for requesting <3 (this is buns forgive me)

jon snow x bolton!reader

the air of winterfells halls is hazy with smoke.

sage burns, leaving a fiery smell in its wake. one that invades the sinuses; your brain signals its scent familiar. a faint memory, the draft of the kitchens ovens’ wafting through the castle on a late summers afternoon. tip-toeing to the door, trying to steal a peek of what’s prepared for supper — being thrown out before you’re able to grasp any traces of a hint.

some practice sage cleansing, others call it folly. you weren’t allowed freedom whilst you lived in the dreadfort under your fathers rule, and being forced to start your craft late, you oft don’t know the customs of those practicing long before you.

after you took winterfell from your half-brother, you felt as if you had a personal debt, one that could be paid only by personally restoring the castle to its former glory. sure, everyone was contributing in their own way, but for you this meant sage burning & candle lighting, some odd things put in some odd places (a line of salt on the windowsills). while your people have long since known what you practice, known and understood are two different melodies — but you’re grateful regardless the song is sung.

you had been searching for a different book when you found it.

in each library of all the great houses of westeros, a record is kept of all the maesters who’ve served & for how long. works can be dated back to the maester who wrote them, and maesters who lose their chains often have their works discredited.

some may call it a silly thing, but sansa wanted to know exactly when maester luwin had been killed. if she hadn’t vouched for you when she did, you would be in a very different position. you’re inclined to heed her every request, no matter how minuscule — and you have an inkling she needs the closure.

semantics regardless, that’s how you wound up scouring the many rows of winterfells library. it wasn’t your fault, really. records and restricted are kept much too closely together.

you reached for the book front and center under the restricted title, the record of maesters tucked tightly under your arm. flipping it over, the title is sufficient in its attention grabbing.

Words of the Accursed

your interest is easily peaked. your father had always said your curiosity would get you into trouble. he was right, of course, but it’s never held any relevance to you.

once you begin to turn the pages, you quickly see why it was labeled restricted. jinxes, rituals, hundreds of ingredients used for things unheard of. you look up, eyes scanning around to see if you’re truly alone. you want to sit down and flip every page, but you’ve far too many duties unable to be abandoned. sansa counts on you.

you bite your bottom lip, thinking, and you tuck the book under your arm along with the other. indulgence is sin, and you need absolution.

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

jon knows somethings up when he doesn’t see you try to climb the weirwoods.

you had always wanted to in your youth, but your fathers stern brow had always forbade it. you had promised it to be one of the first things on your schedule after your duties, but instead, he sees you moving to complete your tasks with unprecedented speed. what could have you skipping out on your fun and rushing through your work?

he finds out later that eve.

the sun sets, and you’ve been absent all day. you don’t gather for supper as the sky darkens, and jon worries until he sees a faint glow emit from the godswood. a candlelight glow.

why you waited until the absence of the sun to climb the weirwoods are beyond him, but as he notes ghosts absence, worry fades to the back of his mind & curiosity takes forefront. he’s able to slip away easily; once northmen get their first sips of ale in, drinking games begin and everything else fades from their view.

as jon traces the familiar path to the godswood, a burning question nags at him. if you’re only climbing, why is there candlelight? when it comes to climbing, even at night you and bran were unquestioned in your skill.

he approaches the entrance to find ghost laying dutifully in front of it. he stops, crouching to meet him. ghost raises his head, putting himself in reach of jon’s waiting hand. jon finds himself smiling at the direwolf.

“Is she here? Hm?” his habit of speaking to ghost shines through his brooding exterior. he isn’t offered answer — as is expected. the white wolf merely licks his chops, before moving out of reach of jon’s touch. ghost was always expressive.

jon takes the hint, sighing, and returning to his full height. he looks at ghost for a moment, for a split second wondering if he’d be allowed access to your sanctuary. it seems so, for ghost is watching the area in front of him; paying no mind to jon himself. jon steps inside.

the godswood is easily navigated when you’ve grown up playing beneath its leaves. regardless, the candlelight easily shows the way. as he gets closer, he recognizes the weirwood as the very tree his father befriended so heavily. to think, to pray, to clean his sword — lord eddard stark was known for his time spent with the gods.

but the weirwood isn’t all that’s seen, quite the opposite. you’re knelt in front of it, candles scattered around you. jon spots an unforeseen book on the bench his father used to warm, and he can’t deny the certain feeling that stirs in him at the sight. he doesn’t fully understand your practice, but you’ve always used it for good (to jon’s knowledge).

you seem to hear his footsteps, for your head turns slightly toward him. not fully, you’re entrapped with whatever you’re doing. but you still call out to him all the same.

“Ghost is at the entrance,” you say. “I mustn’t be interrupted.”

your tone misses its usual cheer. there’s no malice in it, there never is; it’s only dampened with the heaviness of concentration. part of him is relieved you take your craft seriously, and another part aches for the bright, bubbly tone you often carry. he can’t see your face from his position, but he’s sure you’ve got your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. the way you always do when you focus. “He let me through.”

“Traitor.”

his lips quirk up in a smile. you always seem to do that to him. “Can I come closer?”

you reach for things around you that jon can’t see, fiddling with them in your lap. “Watch your step. And don’t pass the salt.”

his brow furrows at your salt mention — the same salt lining every windowsill he’s come across? he’s heard of it being used to ward off bad omens, but those are only septa’s tales. aren’t they?

you weren’t joking, jon sees as he approaches. you’re sat in a circle of salt, a small glass bottle in your hands. he couldn’t tell you what was in the bottle if his life depended on it. he’s caught you as you’re finishing, putting a cork in the top and reaching for the candle nearest to you. you tip it toward the bottle, and the candle wax drips on the cork.

jon is captured by how smoothly you work, as if it’s no big deal. if he was made to perform in front of the gods, he has no doubt his hands would shake.

yours don’t. as the wax engulfs the top of the bottle, a gust of wind blows out all the candles. all except for the one in your hand, of course.

jon turns around, looking for potential threats. he finds nothing, but feels a pair of eyes on his back. when he turns around, you’re still focused on your craft. strangely, his eyes find the own of weirwood tree. he hears a crow caw in the distance. “Does that always happen?”

“Sometimes. Maybe it’s the winds greeting.” you say, moving dirt aside. you reveal a small hole, dropping the bottle in, and covering it up just as quickly.

jon ventures to step closer, and once you’re done burying your secret, you stand up yourself. you begin to step out of the salt circle, and jon offers his hand. you don’t need it, but you take it anyways. you smile at him, reaching to press a kiss to his cheek. his lashes flutter shut at the feeling.

you depart from him much quicker than jon would like, but the candles must be picked up by someone; and your lips have just rendered jon useless.

“Shouldn’t we clean this up?” he asks, and you turn to see him gesturing to your salt. you shake your head, picking up the last candle. “The rain will.”

you turn away from him to retrieve your book, and jon feels pulled — stepping closer to the weirwood. how you can have a conversation with something without lips, jon’s unsure; but it speaks. he and the tree gaze at one another, silence unbroken except by your pretty voice calling his name.

“Jon?” he hums. “You’re stepping on my salt.”

[megaelod]

[cumplane-forever]

An Ding Peak Lord Shang Qinghua, fated to be cannon fodder. Coincidentally, also a reincarnated Peerless Cucumber!

based on the aeroplane transmigrates into sqq post.

With spectacles version (he doesn't need them because he's a cultivator, but I think he'd wear them to look professional (and homesickness) )

[mochatea-bunny]

welp i finally drew something and that something is my fav ladys from a roblox game XD

welp here is (my HC versons of) split and bive

and my roblox avatar for fun

(also im not the best at bigger body types so sorry if they look odd)

and more hc that cant be drawn

split is overall varry friendly but if pushed enough she can fight

bive is more uncomfortable then scared as shes vary warry of her environment and wont go where she feels as if her life is at threat (aka varrry socially awkwad)

bive has ferret behaver but only when she feels comfortable (she can melt like one when realllllly comfy)

split dosent make jokes when shes serious and bive fears the day she sees that side of her

my hc hights for em is bive is 5.3 ft and split is 5.11 ft (or just about 6 ft)

and thats it so far the rest of it stays the same to the game ig split being a silly go happy person and bive being filled with trauma so ya hope ya like my silly art i made of the gals who stole me

[sweetbunanarchy]

Some lil witches are up for 25 USD each!!!

buy them HERE!