#10 more bunnies........

[one-bunny-a-day]

How will tumblr even survive without this blog? Only about 10 more bunnies tops, right? Man. Gonna miss em.

it's oke anon, I'll come back and do the challenge again in 12 years <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bunny pile!

[Commission for @newfriendly]

[romance-rambles]

au - hogwarts+same age!cael | what if she's written mine on my upper thigh

A sixth year at Hogwarts, Cael and his classmates have just recently been exposed to the qualities of Amortentia, the potion of deep obsession. Somehow, it helps him win a kiss from his crush.

1.9k, alternate universe - hogwarts (ft. young cael), fluff + getting together, slight jealousy, reader is mc, series: none

THOSE WALKING INTO THE SLYTHERIN'S common room have long since grown accustomed to the sight of you sprawled across the carpet, with a hefty textbook protecting your pretty face from the light that shoddily illuminates the area. They spare you no more than a glance before they disperse, readily seeking refuge in the comforts of their dorm room.

Certainly, despite wearing a Gryffindor's robe, most would consider you an honorary Slytherin. And no one in the history of Hogwarts has ever transferred houses, but that has not stopped some from their cohort from attempting to make you the first to do so.

Cael has, on occasion, been one of them.

Neatly, he folds the corner of the page, his gaze lingering briefly on the ingredients for Amortentia—the potion that had spurred most of his classmates into a frenzy. Every year, when the sixth years soon approached this particular subject, the result was the same.

Though ingesting the potion is quite dangerous, what most have a tendency to seek out is, instead, one of its unique characteristics. The scent reflects that which the person smelling it finds most attractive, and for a class consisting of mostly seventeen year olds, the prospect of being the lucky few who could find themselves a partner in this way is exciting.

That, or watching a relationship crash and burn, when the scents inevitably do not match.

Cael, for one, has no interest in the drama. Yet, for all his aloofness, even he isn't above such curiosity. The day the Potions Professor quizzed the class on the characteristics of potions they'd need to know for their NEWTs, you simply said:

"It smells nice."

Try as he might, he can't shake the image of your flushed cheeks and the pleased smile tugging at your lips. He was certain his own cheeks did not fare much better in that moment. It was a matter confirmed by your teasing, another unsubtle push to force him to confess first.

In yet another moment of pettiness, he responded in kind, leaving the both of them at a stalemate once again.

When did their habit begin? When had they come to notice the ways in which they could not live without the other person? When had they decided, quietly, that they would not be the first to take the fall?

There are times when Cael wonders if it would be worth it to lose. Then, you make his heart race faster than it has any right to on a Tuesday afternoon with only a smug grin—and he realizes, no, it would not be worth the lifetime of teasing.

Putting his Potions textbook atop the coffee table, he glances at his study partner for this evening—and for every evening after.

From the moment the two of you were introduced—by your mother, no less—you seemed to have decided he was the greatest setback you would ever face. So, he too had returned the favor. But had either of those second years ever considered a different nuance to the word "adversary"?

Cael nudges your shoulder gently with his foot. "I think that's enough of a break."

You roll over with a groan. The textbook in your hands slams shut, narrowly missing the chance to trap the tip of your nose in. Already, he's bribed you with food. With a trip into the nearby town, a denial of something more couched into his words. With a bet designed to stoke your competitive spirit, and more.

Nothing has stuck.

As his lips purse and a sigh threatens to escape from his lips, a thought strikes the young prefect. He bends over, one hand pushing up his bangs before the back of his hand gauges his temperature. The other repeats the same gesture on you.

"You're not sick," he says, the blandness of his tone masking his relief.

You hum. "No, just lazy."

In the absence of something to hold, your fingers take to doodling patterns on the stiff carpet. Each stroke disappears into the dark green surface and leaves nothing behind. Dimly lit as the carpet beneath is, Cael can still make out your words—written in cursive, the looping letters reconstructing your previous response.

With his hands clasped in front of him, he watches more of your doodles disappear into the green. NEWTs. Amortentia. The shape of a heart. The beginning of a phrase, starting with a cursive I. Its seamless stroke twists into an ever running spiral, up until you slice it cleanly through the middle.

"Move over," he soon finds himself saying.

Your hand stills. Then, as soon as you process his words, you erase your already blank canvas before pulling your hands closer to yourself. Cael settles down beside you, drawing his knees to his chest.

The edge of the coffee table sits dangerously close to his forehead. He pushes it away, back to its original position, before he moved it closer for his convenience. His other hand comes to rest on the ground.

Your fingers find a new canvas in it. As he curls his hand into a fist, the space afforded to you by the back of his hand shrinks. But it does not deter you from resuming your doodles.

A star. A flower. A bundle of leaves.

"Not going to study?" you ask absent-mindedly.

Cael snorts, combing through his hair with his free hand. "Hard to study when my partner is slacking off."

You ignore his words entirely. Years of hearing his snark has granted you a layer of immunity to it—on what amounts to a good day for him, he can tear it down with ease, leaving you to huff and puff your way through conversations. Today is not one of those days.

"Guess what I'm writing," you say instead.

An L follows an E, which follows an A, which follows a C. He's written the name enough times over the years to recognize the strokes blindfolded.

"My name."

The next is one that's haunted him over the years.

It's on the corners of his notebooks' pages. It sits interchangeably with his own, between the first and second places, whenever their grades are posted. In the forest when he visits their pet dragon, it's the name that slips out of his mouth with a sigh—whether Beanie is well-behaved or not.

"…Yours." He leans back comfortably, eyes closed as he waits for his next trial. The next one is a drawing, in two parts. You've only finished your haphazardly-drawn strawberry when he asks, "Hungry?"

Humming, you sit up. "Not yet."

Sitting shoulder to shoulder like this, he can discern the faint, sweet scent of your shampoo from the smell of fresh paint that has a tendency to follow you wherever you go. Those were two of the scents that the Amortentia potion had adopted for his sake.

The third took the form of a freshly-baked vanilla cake, overlapping with a lavender-scented candle. A memory from two years prior, the first year neither of them returned home—to your home—for the holidays.

Cael could've gone away on his own. Your mother would've been happy to have at least one of them at home. But it was his own choice to stay.

For Beanie, he said out loud.

For you, he said, in the quiet of his mind, where his childish secrets resided.

He opens his eyes, craning his neck ever so slightly to watch you. You're gazing into the distance with a blank look in your pretty eyes. At some point in the silence, you had copied most parts of his sitting position—the difference lays in where your hands rest. They clasp tightly in front of your drawn-up legs, as if to keep them in place.

"I give up," you whisper, turning your head to look at him.

"That's been the state of affairs for a while," the young prefect says wryly.

In your eyes, he counts a multitude of shades of purple. Hidden among them, he realizes too late, is a vulnerable sort of honesty he's only seen once before. Annoyance replaces it briefly. You sigh and tuck the loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I'm not talking about studying."

Cael stares blankly in response. He's no better off when you close the distance between them and pull back just as quickly. What lingers on his lips is the taste of your lip balm—and when he wipes the sticky residue away, a pinky nude stains his thumb.

By now, a few of the Slytherins who had escaped to their dorm rooms earlier have started taking space up in the common room. Most hover at the edges, finding their seats on the sofas that line the walls. It is usually only Ambrum, from his fellow housemates, who sits in as their third wheel, but he has errands to run today.

Your lips twitch into a faint smile, oddly smug for having become the loser in their little war.

"You win," you say, but he thinks the flush creeping up his cheeks might tell a different story.

extra: a few hours ago - the reason why you confessed

FRESHLY-MADE STRAWBERRY TOAST, THE scent of broomstick handles, and lavender—those were the three aromas that the Amortentia potion presented you with in class. As it turns out, Natalie, one of the many admirers that Cael somehow has garnered over the years, happened to land two of the three herself.

You learn this while hiding in the bathroom stall, waiting for her and her friends to leave so you can too.

On an ordinary day, you wouldn't be so cowardly. But when her conversation with her friends begins with what is essentially a declaration of war, you think it might be just a little awkward to walk past her on your way out.

This is the story of why you decide to give in, a secret that stays with you until a random late night years later, when it slips out in the middle of a play argument.

"I can't believe you're going to confess," one of her friends repeats for the nth time. Frankly, you can't blame her. You'd be doing the same thing in her position. "Doesn't he have a thing with that Gryffindor girl?"

Your ears perk up at the mention of yourself. For the past few years, most of Cael's admirers have left him alone for that very reason. You have a claim, however implicit—one that rivals the kind a girlfriend might have.

For the reason that you will, one day, be his girlfriend, just as soon as he gives in and asks you out.

"It isn't official, though." Natalie digs through her pockets for something. From the crack in the stall, you realize it's lipgloss. "I've never seen them kiss or go on a date."

"Still…" Her other friend says, in a hushed tone. "What if he turns you down?"

"What if he doesn't?"

It isn't until Natalie speaks up again that you realize how fervently you hoped the question would deter her. Realistically, you have nothing to fear. Even so, the messy emotion known as jealousy burns away at your rationality, leaving you to gnaw at your lip in silence.

"Well, good luck then." This time, it's the first friend who comments. She seems to adjust her hair before clasping her hands together. "We should get going. Lunch should be almost over."

They leave just as loudly as they came, the conversation easily shifting to the hows of Natalie's plan. You sit there in the bathroom stall, for longer than you should. Your knuckles turn pale; your long nails dig into the palms of your hand.

You wonder—if the only thing spurring her to confess is that the two of you haven't officially defined your relationship, then would doing so lead her to change her mind?

— happy birthday to my very awesome birthday twin, @xcerizex!

[ghostradiodylan]

I really love that I've now been called misogynist AND racist for shipping Rylan, in subtweets (subtumbls?) from people I've never even interacted with. I genuinely do find it hilarious because, to paraphrase the immortal words of Fall Out Boy, I typically don't care what you think as long as it's about me. :3

But this is getting kinda weird and personal and if you think I won't hear what you say about me just because you've blocked me specifically then you must be new.

I'm sorry, who was unnecessarily nasty? Because I haven't seen anyone be nasty in this very oblique conversation until now.

For what it's worth, in case anyone with two braincells to rub together was confused (not that they would be), I don't 'have a fetish for gay men' (which is something I feel like only a homophobe would say, but I tend to try not to call names until someone does it to me). I just feel the chemistry between those two characters that's very clearly intended in the script and performances. The arc of their relationship is deeply wholesome and sweet, and that kiss at the campfire is one of the cutest things I've ever seen in a video game. Also Dylan and Ryan sparked something in me that I honestly thought was dead, reminded me that I was full of stories when I was in a very, very dark place in my life and I will love them for that forever. And I've already promised another 100k of fic about them so anyone who has a problem with that can die mad I guess stay tuned for that.

This is a silly thing to fight about and I should be above getting heated over internet shipping wars and responding to insults from unserious people. But when they turn into personal attacks for no good reason? I guess I'm not. I don't want anyone to change what they ship or what they write, I only want them to stop being so smug and superior while willfully misinterpreting the canon and accusing others of the same and so much worse.

[dumbbunnii]

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

[phoenixcatch7]

Persephone captain marvel au. Hear me out.

Associated with duality, reincarnation, resurrection, childhood innocence (and it getting ripped away by adults), and her 'counterpart' Kore, which is her in her returning aspect of spring, youthfulness, new life... Come on. Is that not the closest thing to Billy you've ever seen in ancient Greece? Where he gets his powers?

It all starts with Teth Adam, and his devastation at the death of his son. He finds the old paths, breaks them open, and storms down into the underworld to demand him back. His is not a new story.

But where Persephone might ordinarily be inclined to ease her husband's scorn, give the troubled mourner a chance, she is speaking to the champion of magic, the world's mightiest mortal. The chance of success is too high. The challenge would not be enough. The death was too high profile and would risk too many attempting to follow in his footsteps. The man is too unstable, too powerful, too close to the heart of magic for it to be safe - for any of him - to grant his wish and risk his false hope.

They deny him.

Enraged, implacable, Teth Adam lashes out. The battle is long and drawn out, neither side tiring even as both weaken, but Persephone, in either form, is not one of war, and she is felled as her curses shatter, her furies tossed aside like dolls. The sound of Hades' scream as Adam's surprise leaves him open flattens the rubble of their throne room.

The wounded champion escapes, hounded by cerberus and skeletons instead of his son's shade, as her husband crashes to his knees beside her. She has not a mortal soul, and thus will be going where even Death cannot reach.

But Adam killed the goddess of reincarnation, and Billy has odd dreams. He's pretty sure he needs to ease up on the stress. He's restless in winter and distracted in summer, he can sleep outside in howling storms as long as he's tucked snug in the boughs of a tree, he's had the luck of never tasting a rotten fruit. Sometimes it feels like there's ghosts in his hideouts and the kids at school try and bribe him to curse their enemies.

When he chosen to be Captain Marvel the wizard chokes on his own speech when the smoke clears. They stare at each other.

"Well," says Persephone, "that was unexpected. Hullo."

"Hello," the wizard replies, "I was under the impression..."

"I don't think the laws of interference quite apply until I'm immortal again," he says.

The wizard's relief is palpable. It's understandable, he looks ready to keel over from old age. "Can I ask...?" he gestures at the new body. It takes a second to understand.

"Oh, I'm a boy now. For a while."

And that's that.

Until green lantern is killed in battle.

[bunnyboy-juice]

i stg medical professionals take an oath to ensure every patient they come in contact with endures maximum mental anguish over nothing.

[starwrittenfates]

VERSE ;; The Spirit of Hope (Ancient Arlathan)

☆ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☆

𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾:

Taking on physical bodies by using raw lyrium to craft them angered the Titans and began a war with them. Originally a Spirit of Hope, Ethyral was called forth by Mythal to take on a body and be her chosen "sister", helping her and others by inspiring them with hope for a better future during the war with the Titans. Because of this, Ethyral was among one of the first of the elves, also calling Elgar'nan "brother". Not long after, Mythal soon called on a Spirit of Wisdom to take physical form and serve her with his wisdom. This was when Ethyral met Solas.

While the elves were losing the Titan war, Mythal had Solas craft a Lyrium dagger, which helped them win the war. Once it was over, Elgar'nan refused to give up his command as he promised. He argued the elven people needed stern leadership and his strength for protection. Mythal agreed with Elgar'nan, believing the elves needed inspiring figures to unite them, quell their fears, and to guide them with wisdom. The respected generals and elders that consisted the Evanuris followed Elgar'nan and Mythal's examples and proclaimed themselves the gods of the elves. When Ethyral was offered the same position by her sister, with Mythal even granting her the title "Goddess of Spirit" because of her abilities to inspire others, Ethyral surprised everyone by rejecting it and choosing to stand beside Solas instead, reusing to follow suit and saying there was no hope here, but with Solas, there was a chance at it.

Once Solas started his rebellion and became known as Fen'Harel by the Evanuris, Ethyral offered her help. She became a healer and soldier for the rebellion, helping to heal and inspire the spirits of both soldiers and freed slaves while fighting to help free them. She worked alongside Spirit's who also helped her with her work. The rebellion lasted for centuries.

Despite both sisters feeling betrayed by one another for their chosen paths, Ethyral and Mythal still remained on speaking terms at times, with Ethyral coming to dislike Elgar'nan and fearing that his temper may lead her sister to danger someday. Ethyral began to notice the toll the war was taking on everyone, even Solas, who had started willingly sacrificing his agents in order to win the war.

When the Evanuris started to seek the magic of the blight, Ethyral and Solas went to Mythal for help, both of them always thinking they could eventually convince her to step down and join them. But when Solas informed her that the wards sealing the Blight were weakening and asked her to leave the Evanuris, Mythal refused again and told him that she would go to the rest of the Evanuris and remind them of the danger of using the Blight. However, the Evanuris did not heed Mythal’s warning, and instead murdered her.

With this, Ethyral fell into a state of despair, with Elgar'nan mockingly granting her the only title and thing she might be remembered by "Goddess of Grief" and spent time wandering the Crossroads, visiting the place of refuge that was made for Mythal if she ever decided to join the rebellion. A fragment of her sister Solas had managed to recover from the dagger was placed there before he decided to seal the place off out of grief. Due to Mythal's murder and the belief that the Evanuris' use of Blight magic would destroy the entire world if left unchecked, pushed Solas to create the Veil to separate the physical world from the world of spirits, locking both the Evanuris and the Blight at the heart of this new realm and using their life force to sustain their prison. However, doing so inadvertently robbed the elves of their immortality and much of their magic, leading to the collapse of the elven empire. Creating the Veil weakened Solas so considerably that he slumbered for millennia afterwards.

However, Ethyral didn't know what Solas had done or where he had disappeared to. She only watched as the world of Arlathan and the empire they once tried to fight against fell from the sky and was destroyed once and for all, with none of the Evanuris to be found, including Solas. Deciding to no longer let her grief consume her and turn her into something else, Ethyral used her orb (which holds powers of rebirth), to be born into a new body and a new life, knowing her best chance at hope now is to restart again with a second chance, eventually being reborn as Ellana of Clan Lavellan.

Over the centuries there are no surviving texts or lore of Ethyral, but if there are any, it is often of her story being misconstrued over the ages, becoming an omen of grief and despair by the Dalish and something to be weary of just as they are of Fen'Harel.

𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶: Taking place in Ancient Arlathan for Dragon Age.

𝙴𝚇𝚃𝚁𝙰: This is Ellana's Ancient Arlathan verse for her past life as Ethyral. Flexible and Adaptable to fit with writing partners. Just IM me. Feel free to message me if you wanna talk it out. Read more on Ellana and Ethyral: HERE

[bunny-bun-draws]

HUGE Commission dump

So. Been like… 2-3 months?? Since I last posted commissions- so here we go! Done a lot of stuff, always thankful for the support of both commissioners and Patreons u,wu

[jellybeanium124]

it was decided it makes the most sense for me to start fostering finn in the new year, around jan 9 or 10, based on plans I already have and how long it'll take to set up a bunny space, but that means waiting like 25 more days to have a bunny in my house 😭😭😭

[hopefulkittenconnoisseur]

hello kitty & friends supercute adventures season 10 confirmed!!

and it releases the same day as the MIDI Bunny LP "songs to hurt people!" jumping between those two moods might be a little weird lol

[innovatorbunny]

isnt it so sad that my main motivations to play the no more heroes games was to reblog aesthetic margaret gifsets and then i go into her tag and there are none. FUCK

[sukiithedummii]

Taking an idea from. Rand,, um

Give me things to draw

Plz

[springlock-suits]

'nobody wants your birds brennan" but its me trying to talk about ralpho. Ralpho is birds

[gentil-minou]

At what point will I be stopped

[buenolicious]

Today is my birthday! Wanted to draw something for myself to celebrate the day. All I want today is for people to enjoy this piece. I’m very into the way I colored the balloons. ( ᵕ̤ ‧̫̮ ᵕ̤ )

Also shout out to my bestie Alycea for creating my new logo, I’m in love! 💜