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( smiling. jabbing the other with her elbow, )
honey bunny, joy of joys!
when i squeeze you, you make noise! ( ^ω^ )
honey bunny, you're my very best friend, it's true!
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she can't stop giggling. she's petting soft fur, and leaning against the pillow - built walls, and she just keeps giggling. she doesn't remember if she giggled this much when this used to happen.
“ribbit is much funnier,” she says.
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the words pull a crooked, sideways grin to her lips. webbed fingers come to rest upon lilac fur, brush back ears already lopping upon shoulders.
she can't help but giggle a little,
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a game they've played over & over again throughout all of their lives & versions of themselves. always a game of catch-up, of the girl trying to catch the boy as he ran into the sun, watched as he burned alive & woke up again the next day.
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the one she always had to reach to get to — reduced to a soft, purple bunny. in pink overalls!
she giggles again. would the girl who would become her think ribbit is a funny name, too? would she like it?
does she like it?
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