#bunnyboil

[salmiire]

   (( @bunnyboil liked for a starter ))       he’s sprawled over a tree limb, watching the common life of the animals that inhabited the woodlands. deer moved very calmly to the stream that trailed through the forest, squirrels tussel over an acorn on the floor, bears scratched their backs on the rough bark of the strong trees. but all of that quickly dissipated when the crunch of a weak tree limb shattered the silence of the air, animals scurrying back to where they always did when anyone stepped foot in the oasis, as far as they could get. eros however, let his tail flick in a mixture of annoyance && curiosity, icy gaze focused on whoever had just signed their life away.          ‘ who goes there?? ‘       the deep voice boomed from the ebony cat, limbs moving to push him up, now standing to get a better look at whoever had stumbled into his kingdom. 

[godbloodednope]

@bunnyboil (x)

?????? The little-not-so-little-but-still-little pup rests a head on top of a hand with a soft whimper of a whine, fluffy, soft tail wagging back and forth with an insistent little movement. The sadness changes the other’s scent-- she can always smell an emotion, think of the color it reminds her of. Sadness is something like a deep purple, endless in shade, to be looked into deeply and endlessly. Light nudge of a hand-- nudge, nudge, nudge-- is insistent and constant. Attention, attention, attention is that soft demand.

No bark of a sound, but the dog sits down on hindquarters and wiggles a little. No, of course she has no owner. Ears perk and twitch, wiggle a little bit, and then flatten like they’re listening to the world around them just behind. But the pup stays still and calm and soft, watching the other with a soft whine of curiosity-- and then a lay down, head on paws, ears twitching up again to touch one another and to watch closely. No. No owner. Take her home with you.

[exaltcdone]

so, how can we subscribe to Better Homes and Deities?

send a whole pan of freshly made cinnamon buns to brighid’s doorstep. 

[traumeriinmoved]

@bunnyboil continued from this.

    Rosemary takes their hand and holds it tight. ❝I’m not always happy. I’m actually kinda miserable some times but...❞ Her voice trails off as she shakes her head. ❝Well, I just try to focus on the good. It definitely helps.❞

[cruelonlytobekindarchived]

@bunnyboil (x)

So there’s a collection of things people do when they agree to marry each other. (Alana hates this. Why did she say yes? Or agree to anything traditional— she doesn’t hate this, she hates the anxiety. The feeling like it’s Vicky all over again and she’s going to spend all her time alone, planning a for-two situation with just one.) They pick out a cake. A venue. A place. The food. The basics, especially to something small. Low stress. Intimate. That’s the thing.

“—of course it’s okay,” three hours of not picking up and waiting with the anxiety build and build and build and the overly sympathetic gazes and the ‘Dr., would you like to reschedule?’ that she hates, “we’ll just do it another time. Please. It’s a single thing. There are always other opportunities.”

She really just... wanted to do that one normal thing. Or wants to. The one, single, normal thing. Just... wedding cake.

[beliedthoughts-blog]

‘     oh gosh! so sorry! didn’t mean to knock that over.     ‘ she drops to the floor to start collecting scattered pieces. // @bunnyboil

[latrodectress-blog]

@bunnyboil [ x ]

      WHAT THE HELL was that quote?  ‘i must not fear. fear is the mind-killer.’  fear makes men weak, makes them worthless, and therefore, tegan must learn to not fear.  it curls around the base of their throat, ready to constrict and choke at a moment’s notice.  she’s frightening, that’s for certain.  they just aren’t sure if she’s volatile as well.  it has never been a good combination.

      “– you haven’t given me reason to defend myself yet.”

      a sharp inhale, emotion loosening its grip from around their neck the tiniest amount.

      “and for now, i don’t want to consider that possibility.”

      the last line of defense is cold-blooded murder – a sharp object to the throat, fingers pressing into eyes, claws rending the tender flesh of a stomach.  it’s hard and it’s brutal and it isn’t what tegan is anymore.  it’s what they tried to distance themselves from, but one wrong step and they’ll fall back into the habit.  the possibility of that is a little too real for them to be comfortable with.

            “Emphasis on yet.”

There was a teasing curve to her lips, but no such reprieve in her insect eyes. They bore into Tegan’s like two black holes trying to pull the other in and consume them. Ira had been considering killing Tegan ever since she met them, but that wasn’t unusual. She always gave murder a consideration for everyone she encountered. But with Tegan, the temptation was slightly stronger. She’s never tasted the blood of a creature like the one before her. Her mouth salivated at the fantasy of drawing her sharp nail from the hollow of Tegan’s neck all the way down to their pelvis and watching the red blood slowly swell from the pale skin.

           “You should. Best to prepare yourself for any circumstance.”

And like that, Ira was atop Tegan, straddling them on the floor with her hands around their neck. It happened in the time it took to blink your eyes twice. Her grip was crushing, but she intentionally left a small gap in their throat for minimum airflow. Her eyes were large and gleaming, two of the eight spider eyes that see a prey tangled in her web. Her small straight teeth bared themselves as she spoke in a raspy murmur.

            “Is it even possible for you to die, Tegan? Or could I keep you like this forever?              Forever struggling for breath that won’t come? Or maybe I should string you up              in my web and play with you. How much damage could your body withstand, I              wonder? Don’t you, too? Only one way to FIND OUT.”

[sororsam-blog]

@bunnyboil || contd from (x)

[text: tegan🖤 ] WOW

[text: tegan🖤 ] GUESS TF NOT OH YM GOD