#possum witching

[possum-witch]

It is 1:30 am and all I want is to be playing my accordion

[askymzbuki]

Strange Brew

[thechadfactory]

🍄MEET BABY (SILLY) BILLY🍄

He is a skrungley white possum :^) hes based off of all those pictures of white possums that look like they’re super sad or crazy 🤡 I made him for the clowns update because he.. is a silly little guy too :)

🤡Billy will be available tomorrow at 8pm EST!🤡

[sixpossumsinaclownsuit]

Me, self respecting: I would never be a groupie for some guy in a band I've never met, girls really throw themselves at rockstars and cry and scream to get to meet them? Have posters of them all over their room? How do you fall that in love with some guy who makes music—

Joey Batey from The Amazing Devil: (sings Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace) (sings Inkpot Gods) (sings Rockrose and Thistle) (sings Welly Boots) (sings Fair)

Me, suddenly twirling my hair: obviously that doesn't apply to YOU, pookie, omg stawwwp...

[sennamaticart]

Zineoween 25 & 26: Hex and Memento Mori

[yagodichjagodic]

My annual tax season sale starts today! (Taxes are getting even more vicious for small businesses/artists)

My entire shop is 40% off for the next week 💛

Thanks for looking 🐌

[nightshadenook]

𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂-𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚃𝙲𝙷 𝙿𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙽  𝑻𝑬𝑨 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑷𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒎 || 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩

[ ʟɪɴᴋ ] ‧₊˚✧ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ✧˚₊‧

[netherbored]

[joledraws]

Who... or what is PuppyCat running from in Possum Springs? 👀

[torque-witch]

8x10 and 5x7 original prints! $10-20 - Death's Head Divination

[mpsansy]

So with Casper knowing how to fight and defend himself

Does he ever spar with his family and friends??

Cus I’m just imagining fasto and Casper play fighting and having fun.

It’s only with Fatso he gets to spar. The other uncles aren’t too interested in fighting (fat lie, they’re just lazy)

Besides his wayyyyyy cooler uncle?

Casper, Wendy, and Inferno do all practice their respective skills on one another. They always come back to the manor with a bunch of scrapes and bruises. And of course smelling like blood, sweat, and burnt fabric. All the while smiling so brightly

[vaahlkult]

Original Art // Possum Witch of the Midwest

Shop

[maria-ruta]

Happy Agender Day!

Cute agender witch possum I drew for russian Queer Media group, that now I’m volunteering for

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

omw i think if i had heard that possum screech in my walls i would have called an exorcist RIP

I remember the cold sweat I was in as I thought, "Lord, destroy this demonic presence."

[kvotheunkvothe]

Artober day 26: opossum witch

[jades-typurriter]

Pretty Fly For A Brundlehaj

This is a commission for @totalcudgel done back in September 2023, starring her witch OC (who you may recognize from this story a few days ago) and with a guest appearance from Sally.

Well. Eloise had to say that this was the most off-course she’d ever had one of her rituals go.

She mentally retraced her steps, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. She’d heard about other spells that had ended in the merging of the subject and nearby materials, but that had been a spell with the aim of displacement; it made perfect sense that, if one tried to move a body to a space where something already existed, the two would become interlaced with each other. The results had been a tempting lead in the pursuit of magic to perfect her own form—the combination of a human mage with an insectile bystander was nearly seamless!—but the magic was too unpredictable for her to be willing to attempt it.

Already satisfied with her appearance, she had been attempting something unrelated. A form of transmutation, one could argue, but on a conceptual level rather than a physical one. It was honestly fairly well-trodden ground! Alchemists had done similar work for decades (love potions were in high demand, and to make a subject more suggestible was child’s play with tinctures of truth and similar concoctions), but she had neither the materials nor the experience to take that approach, and she felt it to be in contempt of consent, besides. A ritual to adjust something about herself, to increase her appeal, would be easier for her to execute and weigh less on her conscience. She had a hot date, and she was set on making herself irresistible to other trans women.

She supposed her major error was in not keeping her ritual space clear. Even if she wasn’t attempting to move anything, magic was finicky, and liked to reach its ethereal fingers into anything particularly receptive that happened to be nearby. She should have figured that a stuffed animal, an object that typically was the object of much sentimentality, would count, especially given its reputation among her “target audience”. She realized that something was awry when she could feel literal threads weaving through her at the same time of the more metaphorical threads of the spell.

By the time she had looked down to take stock of herself, it was already too late: her hands had morphed into soft, padded, and most importantly, blunt abstractions of paws that could no longer perform the gestures to dispel the magic. Her fur shortened all across her body, and was now tinged a pale blue; that same fur had sprouted all along her tail, which now bore a floppy pair of fins at the tip. Her teeth… well, they didn’t sharpen. They became longer, and they came to a sort of point, but they were as squishy as the rest of her, now; she was glad that her tongue was no longer wet with drool, or it’d be little more than a soggy flap of felt before long.

There was just no way around it. She wasn’t just a plushie, she was a bean bag. A few hundred pounds of flesh and bone had, in a flash, turned into—what, a hundred pounds of stuffing? It was strange how slow to move she still felt. She supposed that paper falls slowly because its weight didn’t push very much against the air, and that her body was now doing something similar. At least it was one less thing to get used to. She already had to adjust to being half shark. How would she explain that to Sally? The whole reason she had even attempted this was that the two of them had a date tonight, and now—

Knock knock knock.

Oh, for the love of—

“Eloise?” came the raccoon’s contralto from the other side of her front door. The witch hesitated; she’d known Sally long enough that she’d probably be comfortable just walking in after announcing herself, which meant that she didn’t have much time to come up with… with a cover story, or a way to reverse the spell, or something. She briefly considered playing dead—she supposed she was still half-possum—and pretending to be a regular plushie, but she had started this whole endeavor in the name of honesty, and she supposed that would be how she finished it, too.

“Come in,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping. The door creaked open, and Sally gasped as she walked in, striped tail swishing behind her and head cocking to one side.

“Well, aren’t you cute!” she chuckled, walking over to where Eloise stood at her desk, looking up at her newly-rounded snout. “What in the hell happened?”

“I was…” Eloise hesitated. She crossed her arms and huffed. “I was trying to get ready for our date.”

“Well, hon, I’ve seen botched eyeliner, or, y’know a bad dye job—I’ve even seen some wardrobe malfunctions! But usually that involves tearing fabric, and not, uh, becoming it.”

“I suppose that my great talent lends itself to the extraordinary,” she blustered, trying to seem at least a little composed in all of this. “Even extraordinary failure.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t use the word failure! I wasn’t just poking fun when I said I thought you looked cute like this.”

“It’s not a total loss, then,” Eloise conceded. “Our date seems like it’s going to be a wash, though. Going out to dinner without a digestive system seems… ill-conceived.”

“Doesn’t have to be. A date can just be a cozy night in, too.” Ah. Of course she couldn’t get off the hook that easily.

“A-are you sure? I was rather hoping to wait out the effects of the spell and plan something with you another time—”

“Eloise, c’mon. Are you telling me that this isn’t the perfect opportunity to stay in and snuggle up?” She wanted to protest, but something about the way she said it was extremely compelling. Downright tempting, even. The part about snuggling? Was that because she was part plush toy? Did plush toys have cravings? She would have to dig further into this once she had returned to normal, but in the meantime—

“...That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Great!” Sally cried, already pulling off her coat. “Just show me to the bed and we can see what exactly you’re made of.”

And so Eloise did. She took up most of it even when she wasn’t a massive pillow-creature, but that wasn’t a problem for Sally. After Eloise had clambered up and rolled over to look back at her date, the raccoon climbed up after her, flopping onto the possum’s tummy and shuffling up to perch on top of her.

“I hope you don’t mind me getting comfy,” Sally rumbled in that husky voice of hers. Eloise, for her part, looked away, bashful, but trying as ever to seem cool and collected.

“You’re already in my bed on the first date. Why develop reservations now?”

“You’re right,” the raccoon cracked, “We already canceled our reservations when we decided not to go out.” The plushie turned her gaze back to Sally, whose snout was inches from hers. She tried to keep the eye contact cold, so as not to entertain the pun, but she broke first, snorting and sending the both of them into a fit of giggles.

The two of them spent the rest of the night getting even cozier with each other. Sally’s digits sank into Eloise’s memory-foam midsection; Eloise rolled over, smushing Sally like a weighted blanket; fluffy tail and chunky tail intertwined, the two of them looking for every place they could find to get a tiny bit closer to each other. By the time Sally awoke, Eloise was back to her full-possum, no-stuffing self, clinging to the raccoon as the two of them spooned.

“Oh,” she mumbled, groggily. “Have you been up long?” She wriggled around to face Eloise, once again bringing her masked eyes to meet the possum’s.

“Only a short while,” she replied.

“But you still could’ve gotten up without waking me? Had a good stretch after being squished in so many places, maybe gotten a bite to eat?”

“I suppose I could’ve. Why do you bring it up?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sally hummed. “It’s just, you seemed awfully eager to get rid of me last night so you could figure out how to deal with the whole… IKEAfication situation, and yet, you’re still in bed. It’s just a little funny—I think you’re just as cuddly normally as you are when you’re all plush out!”

“I simply didn’t want to disturb you,” Eloise countered, as coolly as she could. One of the great misfortunes of a flesh-and-blood body, though, was that that blood was liable to rush to the skin. Really, it made it quite a bit harder to seem as confident as she often sounded. The smile on Sally’s snout grew wider and wider, and Eloise began to feel the burning in her cheeks as she realized she’d been given away. As the raccoon started to laugh again, Eloise seized an advantage that hadn’t been lost in her reversion to her normal form: she could still smother the girl in her chest and spare herself the eye contact.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like a commission of your own, my prices are here; if you'd just like to see more of my work, check here!