#musings. bunny

[lavend3r-stardust]

Palming their dick through their boxers so you can see them get all rilled up and hard. their breathing growing faster as they try to stifle a moan until you press your fingertips to the head, feeling their cum bead through the material, fingers ghosting the slit in their boxers and leaving them pleading for you to pull their cock out. But you glide your fingers up and down the outline of their bulge, and their head rolls back with a low, needy groan, their hips rolling upward to meet your hand

[paxcallow]

desire to draw raz's hair unhatted and uncombed spiraled into imagining an extended gag about some emergency situation forcing all of the psychonauts out of the motherlobe into the quarry in their jammies at like 2 am and judging each other's clothing choices instead of getting actual work done.

[chaoticmiserablelover]

My taste in books: sad queers being unhinged.

[taffywabbit]

a cover of "Panic Station" by Muse, ideally suited for chases through futuristic train platforms full of loop-de-loops and hostile robots!

usually I have a really hard time doing arrangements of existing songs, but I felt unusually motivated to tackle this one and managed to see it thought to completion! (took me a while because I kept spending too much time jamming out to what I already had done instead of working on the next parts lol)

♫ made with OpenMPT! ✎ cover art by me! ► SoundCloud link: https://soundcloud.com/taffywabbit/turmoil-terminus-zone ★ original song (for comparison): https://youtu.be/vk24UKKI4yY?si=RdQkA4BAHoRX1d7P

and here's the full-size cover art, while i'm at it!

[buf309]

The Forger parents, before family life ambushed them.

---

Drawing on a phone, even with a tablet, is so much harder to control than drawing on a computer 😩

[sauronism]

the thing about sauron is that–he contradicts himself. no matter the promises that come out of his mouth, he will do the exact opposite of what he said. it's undeniable that he loves middle-earth, but the tragedy behind those devotion is that his love corrupts all that he touches. his affection is possessive, and suffocating. he holds the realm so dearly with iron fist. his hatred for the valar blind his own arrogance, that he's incapable of seeing how much he hurts those that he admired. in his own self serving justice, he destroys middle-earth with the lone-war he initiated.

[florestxiv]

"Farewell, my first friend. My enemy."

Bonus:

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔈𝔩𝔳𝔦𝔯𝔞

[verum-artifex]

Showstopper

[machiavellian-sinner]

It's been a while since I read tsh and my memory might not be entirely correct but... Whenever I think about how Richard was never truly a part of the Greek class I feel kinda bad. They liked him sure but he wasn't exactly a part of their group even if they hung out together. If the Greek class was standing on a platform he would be on a step or two below. Idk how to explain this. But yeah I feel bad for him and I kinda relate to it because even I feel like I'm not completely a part of a group I'm with, like I'm not a priority. Richard was always kept out of the loop and it's kinda sad how Henry only included him in the murder bunny plan because he wanted to pin the entire thing on him if something went wrong.

[lavend3r-stardust]

Shy, whiny, subby boys who look at you like you're the world to them, rutting their hips into your palm as you jerk them off and watch them twitch while you praise them for how good they feel cumming on your hand like a good boy

[nekrosdolly]

a silly little blurb (written on my phone)

a/n; if you don't own a hairdryer + hairspray, you do now. y'all are married. wrote this instead of sleeping, wesker is soft in this, sue me. set before the events of 1998, a few weeks prior.

thirty minutes. it's been thirty minutes and he still can't get his hair right.

albert looks down at his hands, covered in hair gel, then at his hair with a huff. this is the last thing he needs to do before he goes to work. he's in uniform for the most part, undershirt included, sans his blue button up and shoes.

on the bathroom counter lies a thin-tooth comb, also slathered with gel on the teeth. nothing has worked. his hair is so... flat. disappointing. soggy with too much hairgel and not enough hair to distribute it evenly.

you're asleep during all this, though the light seeping from the bathroom door hits your eyes and starts to rouse you.

he's never been so frustrated. genuinely frustrated.

"god damnit. i don't need this." he grumbles as he hastily cleans up the mess he's made of the bathroom. he's as quiet as can be, and yet you knock on the bathroom door anyway. he jumps- how did that startle him?

"baby?" you mumble, rubbing your face with one hand, "you alright? i heard cussing." you lean against the doorframe, heavy with sleep that lingers in your bones.

"fine, dear, really." he says over his shoulder, still in a crisis over his hair. really, he's not that old, how is his hair so thin already?

"m'kay. im coming in." you push the door open before he can protest, let alone hide his disaster of a hairdo. he accepts this minor defeat, half expecting you to say something about his hair when you walk in.

but you don't. you kiss his cheek and mumble a tired "good morning," before walking over to the sink to brush your teeth and start your day. he stares, puzzled as to why you're not seeing what he sees.

"morning, dear." he says quietly, grabbing his overshirt and shrugging it on as you finish up brushing your teeth. his fingers are still a bit slippery with hair gel as he fumbles with the white pearly buttons. wonderful, another frustrating thing. of course you notice.

"need help?" you look at him through the mirror as you're starting your skincare routine. you haven't even put on your cleanser yet and he's already struggling- again.

"that would be nice, thank you. it seems that my fingers have some leftover gel on them." he steps towards you as you turn to face him. your deft fingers make quick work of the buttons. you can definitely tell something is bugging him, but you're not sure what. his brows are furrowed as he watches you and holds your waist.

"your hair looks different." you glance up at the mop on his head, sodden with gel and shiny. he frowns. you withhold a giggle. he looks like a wet cat.

"believe me, i know." he grumbles, and you just can't help it. you chuckle and he furrows his eyebrows at you, his upper lip twitching.

"don't be such a sourpuss, hm?" you leave the top two buttons undone the way he likes and peck his frowning lips. he brings you in for a real kiss, one you've been anticipating. he always kisses you more when he's grumpy about something. he's less frustrated when you break the kiss, his frown less severe.

"how long until you need to be in?" you scope out the disaster on his head, taking a few oversaturated strands in hand to assess the damage.

"an hour, but i was hoping to go in early... why?" he glances at your hand, then at your contemplative expression.

"well, maybe i could fix your hair." you suggest. his frown disappears.

"are you sure, darling? i'd hate to waste your time."

"it's not waste." you grab a towel and drape it over his shoulders- no point in removing his work shirt after you spent time buttoning it for him. he can deal with a few wet patches here and there.

"right. so what am i doing to fix this," he gestures to his hair, "issue?" his eyes follow you as you walk to the shower and turn on the water to hot.

"stick your head under the faucet and rinse the gel out. we'll blow dry it and go from there." he's less excited now. the last thing he wants to do is drench his uniform, but if you say it'll help...

reluctantly, he ducks his head under the faucet after removing his glasses and groans quietly at the uncomfortable feeling of water dripping down his neck. you come beside him to work the water through his hair and rinse away the sticky hair gel.

"darling." he's complaining, gripping the towel around his shoulders and you smile to yourself at the sight.

"alright, alright. i think it's out." you shut off the faucet and wring out the remaining water from his hair the best you can.

"thank god." he mutters under his breath, drying his hair off with the towel while you grab the blow dryer, a cylindrical hair brush, and a wide-tooth comb. you plug the appliance in and sit on the sink's countertop, gesturing for him to come closer and kneel down. he does as you ask, resting his head on your thigh.

you brush through his hair with the wide-tooth comb first. occasionally, he presses a kiss or two two the inside of your thigh, something he's doing to show appreciation. you try not to think about how good he looks on his knees in favor of staying focused on the task at hand; helping your husband with his hair. to busy himself so he's not just sitting there, he's taken to massaging your calf.

moments like these, you'll remember forever.

you pick up some styling mousse and heat protectant to lather in his damp hair. when you pick up the blow dryer and hair brush, he comes a bit more curious. you wrap his hair around the cylindrical brush and focus the heat on the section.

you continue to do this, section by section, until his hair looks pretty close to his usual style. he's nearly fallen asleep, kept half-awake by the annoyingly loud hair dryer.

"almost done." you grab hairspray from your side of the counter and shield his eyes before spraying a healthy amount. you hold your breath, but albert doesn't mind the chemicals- can't be worse than what he's going to do to his body soon enough.

he's staring up at you, his eyes half-lidded and sleep evident on his sharp features.

"are we done, my dove?" he asks, sitting back on his ankles and rubbing his bleary eyes. you return his glasses to him and he slips them on, standing up and using the counter as leverage. like this, he's caging you against the mirror with his large frame. you can't say you mind, though. he examines his hair haphazardly and ducks his head to kiss you.

"ah," you place a hand over his mouth gently, stopping him in his tracks. his eyebrows furrow, his eyes narrowing.

"work. you're going to be late." you remind him, to which he rolls his eyes at and moved your hand off his mouth.

"yes, that would be an issue. thank you for fixing my hair, dearest." he pecks your lips before peppering your face with soft, sweet kisses.

"albert. work. go." you intend on sounding stern but it's impossible when he's being sweet, so you end up turning him around by the shoulders and ushering him out of the bathroom. he goes easily, given that the future of your lives is at stake, and grabs his work bag as well as his badge and gun. you clean up in the bathroom and meet him by the front door.

"see you tonight, alby. i love you."

the blush that rises to his cheeks whenever you call him that is intense.

"indeed. i love you too." you give him one final kiss on the lips before he leaves for the next 8-10 hours. you're going back to bed.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Been listening to the Wonder Woman soundtrack, and it's gotten me thinking. If Lena ever died, especially in a noble sacrifice, I don't know if Kara would accept comfort from any of the superfriends. Because they don't understand.

But do you know who does? Diana.

So now I just have this image of Kara and Diana sitting somewhere up high, seeking perspective, and commisserating over their loss. Diana still feels an emptiness without Steve, an emptiness that Kara is just starting to feel in the absence of Lena.

But then what if Diana gets the chance to change just one thing in history, no strings attached? Does she bring her Steve back?

No.

She saves Lena instead, the moment before she meets her end.

I think Kara might sense something in Diana that day, something momentous in the way Diana looks at Lena, and the manner in which Diana shows up out of nowhere to save the day. She suspects, maybe, that Diana has seen a world, seen a Kara, where Lena has been lost.

Regardless, all Kara can do is say thank you.

[lyricalmusingstuff]

it's alright. it's okay. it's just that everything's f u c k e d.