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adventchallenge 2010: 7/25 (animangel)

Yes, I am still doing these. Determined to finish these 25 even if it takes me into December 2011. *resolve!face*

animangel's prompt: A story about being (literally) kidnapped by plot bunnies.

I've been meaning to transcribe this for a week, but at last it is done. This one's pretty short, and I hope you'll all recognize something of your inspiring selves in it. *snugs you guys*


for December 7th (animangel)

The trouble with plotbunny abductions was usually that the people who loosed the bunnies on defenseless writers like Joana didn't realize they'd done so.

The trouble with Gwen was that she knew all too well what she was doing when she put down her Vorpal tea, opened her mouth, and casually unleashed a torrent of plotbunnies too small to see with the naked eye—and all the more dangerous for it. By the time Joana realized what her friend had done, it was too late: the bunnies had sunk their steadily growing teeth into her calves and were climbing up her legs.

As bunny heads slowly grew from microscopic to the size of the head of a pin, their little teeth and claws began to glint in the shifting candlelight.

"Did you just Vorpal me again?" Joana whined, standing immediately and smacking at the fingernail-sized bunnies crawling up her hips to her stomach, sides, back.

Gwen smiled with feigned innocence and barely-contained glee. "I did nothing. It was the tea, if anything."

Joana was glaring when the first bunny crept up to her neck and bit deep. "Ow!" She dislodged it with difficulty, but when she pulled the wide-eyed, fist-sized, floppy-eared bunny from her neck, the damage was done. Gwen's smirking face and Vorpal tea were receding into the horizon of a suddenly pitch black world.

Plotbunnies hopped across her vision, filling it with white, black, brown, and motley; with floppy ears, soft fur, shivering fat tails. When the screen of her vision was filled entirely with bunnies, they faced her, a sea of wide, glassy eyes…and the story began.

*

When Joana returned to Gwen's living room, her friend was reading a book with two half-naked men on the cover. Her tea mug was empty. Joana breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, you're back," Gwen said. "You seemed miles away for a while there. What were you thinking about?"

Joana's eyes narrowed.

Gwen smiled pleasantly and lowered her book.

Joana snorted. "You know what I was thinking—it's your fault."

"Oh—plotbunnies again? What story did they show you?"

"Doesn't matter—I'm not writing it."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. This was dangerous ground, and Joana knew it, but she crossed her arms and raised her chin.

Gwen sighed. "I'm out of tea," she said mournfully. "I'll just go make more—"

"Fine!" Joana pulled out a notebook and pen with a huff. "I'm writing it down. Happy?" She grinned despite herself. "You're evil."

"Yes," Gwen said, picking up her empty mug and gliding to the kitchen. She paused halfway there. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please," Joana said, still scribbling down the idea. Suddenly she stopped, eyes fixed on Gwen's empty chair. "Gwen?" she called, grin turning decidedly wicked.

"Yes?"

"I'd like Vorpal tea, please."

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