The Rabbit-like Creature

Haii, the rabbit creature here! You can call be Bunny or just Givi. I'm mainly an OC and cutesy artist, but I also enjoy drawing Call of Duty AUs, Baldur's Gate 3 and whatever I'm hyperfixating on. I'm from Venezuela and english is not my first language so let me know if I make any mistakes. I will absolutely reblog everything related to my hyperfixations and Ghost (COD) content.

I do selfshipping (ocxcanon) and may post a little bit of suggestive content, properly tagged and filtered if needed. If you're not comfortable with this please block and move on, I don't appreciate mean comments.

I DO NOT ALLOW REPOSTS/EDITS OF MY ART if you wanna use it for a story inspo please credit me as the original artist <3

— Links, Portfolio and Commissions

— Art Boundaries

you're free to use my art as pfp/layout as long as you give proper credit (Also if you're making a story about Ghost inspired by any fanart I make I'd love to read it hehe).

DON'T REPOST MY ART IN ANY PLATFORM, pretty please.

my annonymous asks are open for requests and questions! though if it has anything to do with any of the triggeting themes mentioned below (general boundaries and Triggers) I reserve the right to ignore/reject.

I'm okay with my art being used as long as you credit me, tag me if you can!

feel free to take my art as an inspiration or reference, but don’t trace, recolor or use it for AI.

— General Boundaries and Triggers

I may do interactions in character as my persona but I don't do roleplay (I'm shy)

Due to personal experiences I feel especially triggered by themes such as police brutality, SA and anything related. I will block and ignore

DNI: Any person who sexualizes feral furries, animals, cubs and minors (even minor-looking or infantilized characters), homophobes, transphobes, hateful people and general harmful content

We're cringe and supportive here, let the joy and wimsy be for all

I don't have knowledge of the non-sharing community, I don't mind you shipping, asking for requests or commissions with Ghost, rather, I'd love it!

— Fandoms and Communities

Sleep Token

Call of Duty

Baldur's Gate 3

Masktok, bikertok, a little bit of booktok ig? Masked men in general

Slasher fandom and Dead by Daylight

TLOTR, Dungeons and Dragons, Dungeon Meshi, pretty much anything similar

— Main Tags

#art: My art,

#q&a: for the question thingy tumblr has

#interactions: for when I interact in character

#mindless simping: I can tell you this is gonna be 99% reposts of Ghost fanart

— Additional Info

COMMISSIONS CLOSED DUE TO MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES, know more about my commission status here

I use Paint Tool Sai 2 with custom brushes

Art and banners are all by me! Except for the Bow dividers by @cursed-carmine

“Christ alive,” he muttered, fingers tugging at the collar biting into his neck. “This shite’s worse than chainmail.”

Beside him, Sir John “Soap” MacTavish snorted into his goblet, the polished silver of his ceremonial armor catching every errant flame. “Quit yer whingin’, Duke. Ye look fine enough. At least ye dinnae have tae sweat inside a bleedin’ forge.” He clanked an elbow against Simon’s ribs with a grin sharp enough to draw blood. “Relax m’lord. It’s just one wee lass—not a bloody dragon.”

Simon’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look at his friend, only stared into the crimson wine rippling in his cup. The reflection that stared back wasn’t a man reborn, but a ghost dressed for burial—scarred jaw, hollow eyes, a face too worn for the title it bore. “You’ve never seen her angry,” he said at last, voice low and rough, the sound of old gravel beneath boot heels, a hint of fondness in the way he spoke. “She could flay a man alive with—”

The orchestra swelled, violins trembling like held breath.

Then, as if the air itself had forgotten how to move, the music cut off mid-note. A silence descended, soft and heavy as snowfall. Heads turned toward the grand staircase.

And there she was.

The years collapsed in an instant—five long winters of letters he couldn't bring himself to answer or stop reading, of blood and ghosts and sleepless nights burned down to this fragile moment. The hall’s light found her first, gilding her in silver and quiet reverence as she stepped into view. The murmurs of the court dulled to nothing, drowned by the roar in Simon’s chest.

He had imagined this moment a thousand ways: triumphant, remorseful, impossible. None had prepared him for the simple truth of seeing her again—the curve of her chin lifted with defiance, the stillness that demanded reverence.

Beside him, Soap stifled a laugh. “Breathe, ye daft bastard,” he murmured. “Before ye faint in front o’ yer kingdom.”

But Simon couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink. His body forgot how to do anything but look.