ccuniculusmolestus

[ccuniculusmolestus]

the last guy's blood didn't splatter across my face and shirt sexily or aesthetically enough so i have to kill again. sorry.

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Do yall remember this btw…..

Henry and Bnuuy….make….babies….?!?!?

Excuse me what

LMFAOOOOO

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If you tbhink about it “procreate” is a wild name for a app

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Bunny Corcoran

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The controversy: lol🙏

I have somethfn comtroveral to say

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Do you want to play the secret history dolls with me (I take my bunny doll and start bashing all the other dolls and no bunny has no weakness he’s godmodded he’s a vampire demon hunter and a vampire demon and also he sweats glitter)

….wdym you don’t wanna play anymore ☹️

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I WAS LITERALLY HOPING SOMEONE WITH MORE KNOWLEDGE WOULD ADD TO THIS YIPPEEE!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH this makes the case even stronger!! And Donna’s motive even less clearer !!! :p she’s an enigma fr

Never thought I’d actually be drawing parallels between Henry and Oscar fucking Wilde but HERE WE ARE! Your add ons are actually perfect and so insightful esp the Wilde/Mahaffy one!

soooo when I was reading TPODG, I got interested in Oscar Wilde's life etc so I read up on it (mostly the wiki) and bruh....his relationship with a certain someone reminded me of a certain dynamic......

SO I HAVE A question: did Donna Tartt channel the dynamic of Oscar Wilde/Alfred “Bosie” Douglas into Henry/Bunny? just a little bit???? just a smidge??? I WONDER????

With Henry being the Wilde-like figure (generous, forgiving, patient, the one with the money) and Bunny being the Bosie/Douglas variant (petulant, demanding, selfish, ultimately causes Henry’s downfall)

Ok i sound like im yapping off my meds but lemme give u some evidence

first acquaint yourselves with Oscar Wilde (who everyone already kows) and Douglas (also referred to as "Bosie") Bosie's the one who is sitting down.

Exhibit A.

We can infer that Henry probably paid for Bunny’s asthmatic medicines/inhalers at least once. You don’t need to agree with this, I think it’s just a very highly plausible headcanon because in three years or so especially with Bunny’s allergies I reckon he would have needed a trip to the doctor at least once.

In any case, even if he did NOT, we know he was depending on Henry for survival. But when it’s Henry turn to get sick, BECAUSE OF BUNNY, and he was laid in Rome, dying of a migraine?

TSH excerpt:

Bunny was in his own world. He left Henry to rot basically 😭 The Wiki excerpt:

Also. Blackmail.

Exhibit B.

Excerpt from the wiki:

This is how Douglas is described, and it’s mentioned how his relationship with Wilde was fraught with tension, frequent fights over money and behaviour. Wilde was funding his extravagant lifestyle, just like Henry was blowing money on Bunny’s expensive suits and restaurant trips………

Other weird stuff I thought should be mentioned: 1. Bosie became homophobic later on and persecuted men he thought were homosexuals vehemently 💀 including Robert Ross, who was a rival of his I guess because he was closer to Wilde (they had been in a relationship too) and also protected Wilde's works, and ALSO was gay

2. This might be less relevant but after the scandal that Wilde got into because of Douglas' careless actions and his father's involvement of the law, he was imprisoned. During his imprisonment he wrote a letter to Douglas, De Profundis, detailing what he felt for him. It's not negative, like Henry's diary entry was for Bunny, but it is critical of both himself (for his 'weakness) and Douglas (for his vanity and general selfish behaviour). he wasnt able to give it to him tho

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can we see what's in your ask box...

I’m not sure you guys are ready for this stuff actually 😭😭

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You know what I may be a perv but Bunny getting dommed by all the guys all at once this is my first contribution to winterbunny what do you think

?

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I ought to write more Winterbunny cause they are so tragic!! Though I should also explore their relationship pre Richard, they must have been so cliche and cute

YES YOU SHOILD!! PLEASE!!! A03 needs you (or if you mainly write on tumblr, tumblr also needs you)

We got so much angst of them fr I am advocating for cute shit, they’d be so corny and cheesy bruh. But also I love angst

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not looking to pick fights so I'm not rb-ing but it's not parasocial to interact with an ao3 author and to respond to what they say in author notes or comments, that's just being social

ao3 authors aren't content creators, that's a real person sans public persona just sharing a cool thing they made

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"so do i look like him?"

and it's henry winter being haunted by visions of bunny's reflection every time he's forced to look at himself in a mirror

bunny's blue eyes meeting henry's behind the identical pair of glasses forever haunting his reflection

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HELP THIS IS SO GOOD TWIN WTF !!! Your imagery and environment immersion is actually so W. Also Henry thinking of his apartment as “their” apartment can you Stop. This whole thing CAN YOU STOP. MY EHART 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 BUNNY PELASE COME BACK

POST TJIS ON A03 TWIN?1!!1

When silence becomes too loud-Winterbunny

Or when Henry Winter realizes that death is—indeed—something fatal and irreversible.

Snow falls thickly tonight, muffling even the cracking of the trees as they bend under the weight of winter. The old lamplights along the Hampden path burn dim and gold, softened by the fog of breath and cold. Henry Winter walks alone.

He no longer notices the cold. It passes through him like wind through a ruined house. His coat, thick and old, is buttoned up to the throat, his gloves dark and worn. He moves with the same careful precision he always has, but something’s missing. Something flickers behind his eyes—burnt out and unspeakable.

Bunny Corcoran is dead.

Buried beneath frozen soil and wet leaves, his mouth stuffed with mud and silence. The memory is a constant, a companion, a brand burned beneath the skin. The others are splintering—Camilla pale and distracted, Charles drinking at odd hours, Francis shaking hands, Richard always looking just over his shoulder. But Henry, by all appearances, remains unchanged.

And yet, he is not.

There is a type of silence that comes after violence, a hush so total it rings. He hears it now, in the soles of his shoes on the path, in the quiet rustle of leaves as the trees shift overhead. The silence of a room just after someone has screamed. The silence of a confession swallowed and never spoken.

He tells himself it was necessary. Still tells himself that. They had no choice. Bunny was reckless. Dangerous. He had pushed and prodded and joked and threatened. But then, hadn’t he always? And hadn't they—he—loved him all the more for it?

Henry lifts his gaze to the sky. A pale moon hangs in the dark like a watchful eye. And suddenly—terribly—he wants to hear that voice again. Bunny’s voice, nasal and warm, calling out across the Commons. That stupid laugh. “Henry, old man!” Too loud, always just a bit too familiar.

But there is no voice, and there will never be.

When he reaches the library steps, he pauses, gloved hand resting on the frozen railing. A group of students passes, murmuring. One of them laughs—high, sudden, nothing like Bunny. Still, Henry turns his head, heart leaping with something awful. But it’s no one. Just another boy in a coat too thin for the weather.

He used to feel such superiority to people like that. Now he just feels apart. As if he’s standing behind glass, watching them all live.

He remembers the quote, not from a book, but from the crackling speaker of a radio cassette Bunny insisted on keeping in their apartment—a chunky black metallic thing with faded buttons, always half-covered in crumbs and band stickers, forever threatening to eat the tape mid-song. One night, late and half-drunk, Bunny had put on some dusty recording—an old mystery drama from the '40s—and the line came floating out like prophecy: You will look into the faces of passers-by hoping for something that will for an instant bring me back to you. Bunny had laughed, called it corny. But Henry hadn’t forgotten. Now, it loops in his mind with the eerie rhythm of a ghost story, lingering like smoke after the candle’s gone out.

He cannot explain what it is that makes him miss Bunny most. Not his intelligence—though it was there, in its unruly, unsharpened way. Not his charm, which was clumsy. But perhaps it was the way Bunny needed him. Clung to him, almost pitifully. His dependence had annoyed Henry then. Now it feels like a wound.

When he dreams, he dreams of the ravine. Sometimes Bunny is there, sometimes not. Sometimes it's Henry at the bottom, looking up at himself. And when he wakes, the cold clings to him in sheets of sweat and ice.

Even now, in the library, he feels the weight of absence. The chair where Bunny used to drop his coat. The desk he never studied at. The way he used to say Henry’s name. As though they were closer than they were. Or maybe closer than Henry admitted.

He had told himself it was brave. That killing Bunny was a necessary sacrifice. That their secret knowledge, their pursuit of beauty, of higher things, justified the cost. That it was noble, even.

But now, when the moonlight falls on the empty quad, when the windows fog and the lamps hum and his hands tremble just slightly on the pages of a book—what brave thing feels like this?

This is not bravery. This is ruin.

Henry does not believe in God, but sometimes he wonders if this is a punishment. Not hell, but exile. To live long. To go on breathing while Edmund Corcoran lies still beneath the frozen earth. That is the true sentence. To endure.

He remembers once, in the orchard near Commons, Bunny picked an apple and threw it at his back. “Hey, Henry,” he’d said, laughing. “You ever stop thinking?”

Henry hadn’t answered. He rarely did. Now, he answers constantly.

He thinks. He remembers. He regrets.

And always, always, he searches.

In the laughter of strangers. In the rustle of leaves. In the whisper of snow on his coat. In the empty space beside him.

Bunny does not answer.

And the night goes on.

[ccuniculusmolestus]

Hii! Thank you for liking my drawing 😭💞

https://www.tumblr.com/mrs-dot-kennedy/787792646142935041/when-silence-becomes-too-loud-winterbunny here you have a winterbunny fic I wrote that you may like! (Love your content! Keeps spreading the message of this two)

Omgggg can’t wait to read it!! Thank u 💗

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I just realized I posted that with liek zero edits (IT NEEDED SO MANY SHDJWNDKSKKD I HADNT EVEN COMPLETED SOME SENTENCES)

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yellow riding hhood rabit gets killed by evil grandoa (old man) wolf

goodbye, bunny!

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Richard Papen pisses me off so bad especially in opposition to Judy Poovey like Judy is the exact representation of "young girls coming to conclusions men need a philosophy class to get" and she's also actively participating in the modern equivalent of bachannalias all week without murdering innocents. Also she's actually nice, dresses fancy and doesn't hide being a cringe fail bisexual. Richard keeps criticizing her bc he's misogynistic but really he fucking WISHES he lived like her. Meanwhile he gets high at a party once and discovers basic empathy. Jesus Christ