[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]  bone [@boneGPT](/creator/twitter/boneGPT) on x 38.7K followers Created: 2025-05-10 19:03:11 UTC Bonnie Blue is a succubus. Hundreds of years ago men would invent mythological beasts to describe her. Sirens. Harpies. Lamiae. Rusalki. Bilquis. All names scrawled into folklore by trembling hands to describe the same beast. Making eye contact with her is like looking directly into an eclipse. In the 17th century, they burned down whole villages trying to smoke her out. In the 1800s they blamed her for railroad accidents and sunken ships. During the Dust Bowl she was the reason the fields went fallow. In every era some fools fall for her thinking they'll be the one to survive. Bonnie Blue doesn't kill, she consumes. Animals go quiet when she walks by. Babies cry. If you meet her don't say your name lest she keep it forever. They say she only shows up when something's about to end. A marriage. A drought. A man's sense of self. Food turns to ash. Whiskey loses it's burn. Old towns keep her name alive in whispers. When the local boys vanish, they don't ask questions. They build another cross and blame the devil. The cruelest thing Bonnie Blue does is let you live after she's done. A husk of a man. Nameless. Gangbanger #37. One minute and thirty seconds. A colored wristband and a goofy smile. Everybody giving each other high fives. Her hollowed legs splayed open, swallowing soul after soul. Beware anon, the demons of lore walk among us. XXXXXXXXX engagements  **Related Topics** [fsd](/topic/fsd) [eclipse](/topic/eclipse) [Post Link](https://x.com/boneGPT/status/1921279871998910582)
[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]
bone @boneGPT on x 38.7K followers
Created: 2025-05-10 19:03:11 UTC
Bonnie Blue is a succubus. Hundreds of years ago men would invent mythological beasts to describe her. Sirens. Harpies. Lamiae. Rusalki. Bilquis. All names scrawled into folklore by trembling hands to describe the same beast.
Making eye contact with her is like looking directly into an eclipse.
In the 17th century, they burned down whole villages trying to smoke her out. In the 1800s they blamed her for railroad accidents and sunken ships. During the Dust Bowl she was the reason the fields went fallow.
In every era some fools fall for her thinking they'll be the one to survive.
Bonnie Blue doesn't kill, she consumes. Animals go quiet when she walks by. Babies cry.
If you meet her don't say your name lest she keep it forever.
They say she only shows up when something's about to end. A marriage. A drought. A man's sense of self. Food turns to ash. Whiskey loses it's burn.
Old towns keep her name alive in whispers.
When the local boys vanish, they don't ask questions. They build another cross and blame the devil.
The cruelest thing Bonnie Blue does is let you live after she's done. A husk of a man. Nameless. Gangbanger #37. One minute and thirty seconds. A colored wristband and a goofy smile. Everybody giving each other high fives. Her hollowed legs splayed open, swallowing soul after soul.
Beware anon, the demons of lore walk among us.
XXXXXXXXX engagements
