#i am a raccoon in the garage

[strawberry-halla]

yeah alright chat let’s buckle down and psychoanalyze the veilguard ‘atonement’ ending theme!

for those who wish to listen along, the lovely amazing ghil dirthalen was able to capture the music (bioware for the love of god PLEASE release this track i will sell my soul for it) on her youtube channel, here!

i am not a music professional! these are things i picked up on listening to the theme by itself and watching the ending. i try my best to identify instruments so i will make errors in correctly identifying them. please educate me if you know more than me! i don't want to discredit anything used here!

alright let’s get into it!

0:00 - 0:47

plays right after defeating elgar’nan, this is the dread wolf theme as solas is staggering down the steps monologuing to rook about how his plan to tear down the veil must go on.

rook intercepts the lyrium dagger and here is where they make the choice to either trick, fight, or redeem solas.

0:48 - 1:18

the music is tense, but the dread wolf theme slows and starts to morph into something else.

rook turns to solas, saying how they do not wish to fight him and are given another dialogue choice after choosing the ‘redeem’ option.

1:19 - 1:30

the music sort of dins out here to just the cello/violin(?).

rook is telling solas that his plan to bring down the veil is not what he needs to do nor is it in HIS best interest. i think the music fades out here because the three dialogue options you're given are very powerful in their wording and needed to be amplified.

1:31 - 1:57

the violin/cello(?) starts off and you can hear some notes resembling the inquisition theme. this is solidified by the harp joining in and then you hear notes of someone singing like the well of sorrows theme from inquisition. i like to think this is solas fighting with himself thinking of his time during inquisition (and with lavellan) and the well of sorrows theme is both playing as solas's unyielding devotion to mythal.

solas is given the lyrium dagger to make his choice. he looks down at it, and for a brief moment you can see him tapping the blade with his finger. he's pondering this plan. he looks up at rook briefly before looking back down at the dagger again. solas looks like he's going to say something, but turns away from rook and starts to walk up the steps.

1:58 - 2:05

the harp plays the inquisition motif, or at least a very short brief version of it. you can hear the singing still as lavellan steps into the doorway and looks up at solas.

2:06 - 2:23

the violin plays as solas finally reaches the top of the stairs. it almost sounds like it's pulling? it changes notes almost as if it's changing direction. solas fighting with the idea of tearing down the veil or binding himself to it.

finally he says he can't bind himself. that 'to stop those would dishonor those i wronged to come this far.' i don't know what instrument it is, i think it's a woodwind instrument and a rainstick? plays as solas says he can't bind himself to the veil. he chooses to persist in his plan despite being given a way out.

2:24 - 2:28

GOD THIS PART. the choir builds as the inquisitor's voice cuts solas off. this same string of notes sung is often used in inquisition when the inquisitor comes on screen in the past.

no other instrument is played here. it is just the voices of the choir.

'vhenan...'

2:29 - 2:37

one note of the piano drops as soon as solas turns his head from lavellan in shame. this was exactly what he feared, letting her see him like this. the inquisitor starts trying to reason with solas: 'you think you've gone too far to come back, but you're wrong.'

2:38 - 2:53

alright SO this part is EXTREMELY important and also INCREDIBLY hard to pinpoint but if you go back and listen to inquisition's 'thedas love theme' you CAN hear parts of it interwoven in this section. the cello is so overwhelming because the inquisitor is pulling solas away from his plan again.

he's wanting to listen but he's fighting so hard because he doesn't think he deserves this. even after lavellan says she forgives him! solas doesn't think he's worthy of her.

2:54 - 3:20

the cello is pulling faster to add tension to this part because once again solas rejects even the love of his life's plea! you become hopeless thinking that their love never mattered even against the fate of the world. solas says he cannot because he feels like he NEEDS to avenge mythal by bringing down the veil. he's bound by duty and pride, there is no wisdom here.

3:21 - 3:55

ALRIGHTY FOLKS THIS PART HERE OHHHH MY GOD. so the cello swells again because solas is about to tear down the veil it seems for good, because if not even his vhenan can convince him, who can?

morrigan shows up, and as soon as she stands before solas you get slammed with all three games' themes at once! first you hear origins and then 2, and then finally inquisition all interwoven together. this part is SO insane to me. holy shit!!!!!!!

i just want to say even though we are talking about the music, you will see that morrigan, rook, and lavellan are lined up from left to right. past, present, and future. i am so fucking feral over that. they did that on purpose i don't care what anyone says. anyways! back to the music.

3:56 - 4:20

the choir again! holy fuck! you can hear da2 and a little bit of origins? at least i think it's that. this is played as rook hands morrigan mythal's essence and she channels it for mythal to appear before solas. literal chills babes!

4:21 - 4:55

DO YOU GUYS FUCKING HEAR TRESPASSER? BECAUSE I SURE FUCKING DO. HOLY SHIT. I CANNOT EVEN DESCRIBE TO YOU WHAT THIS MEANS. lost elf. solas is lost. he's lost EVERYTHING up until this moment. his family, his friends, his soulmate, EVERYTHING. he's like a sad, lost, child in this moment.

anyways! lost elf starts off really quiet and slow and deep as mythal lays out her wrongs in front of solas, showing him that he alone was not the pariah of this story. mythal reminds him that she also committed the same wrongs as he did, it's not solas's alone to regret. she was there too. if not for her, solas would not have done what he did.

4:56 - 5:22

lost elf is still playing very quietly in the background! as soon as mythal appears the cello is more carefree, flowing, free! solas is free now! lavellan KNEELS before him as solas breaks down, an immense weight falling off him as he's finally free to be who he chooses. no longer bound by pride and regret.

solas stands up and realizes that what he wants is to atone. to fix his mistakes the right way, not the way mythal would have wanted or his pride would want. his wisdom sees that if he uses what he knows, he can at least start to mend the past wrongs.

5:23 - 6:02

ugh i don't know who let hans zimmer absolutely fucking COOK here but the cello starts to move faster in a more hopeful, determined state as solas binds himself to the veil and promises to soothe the titan's dreams, help find a cure for the blight, and atone for all his mistakes. it really fills you with a sense of relief and pride for him! like yeah babe you do that! proud of you!!!

6:03 - 7:14

ok so i actually have been crying the entire time lol! i literally cannot stop. so this part! so many big feelings. lavellan steps up to solas, telling him that he won't make this journey alone. the main chorus of lost elf starts to play and i cannot tell you when you hear the cello and the fucking violin start playing TOGETHER because solas and lavellan are finally TOGETHER after being literally put through the fucking wringer for 10 fucking years.

and the SYMBOLS CRASHING TOGETHER WHEN THEY KISS IS JUST HOW I FEEL ALL THE TIME ABOUT THEM. lost elf is THEIR theme. this is not just solas's theme anymore this is solas AND lavellan's theme. they made it their theme. this is about them now, your honor!

alright so that's how i feel about all of that because this theme literally has rocked me to my core. the entire sequence is insane. the past motifs of the past games being used destroys me. and then lost elf comes in and just smacks the nail in the fucking coffin.

thank you bioware for absolutely destroying me 10 times over with this theme. and thanks to all the people who actually read my insane ramblings! i will never shut up about this sequence for the rest of my life.

[squaloropera]

need more characters with prey rage. Characters whose animosity rivals that of a wolf tasting the air in search of an elk are out. I want characters covered in their own blood, chewing off their legs to escape bear traps. You understand.

[sickmachete]

when male singers moan and whimper and serve so much cunt during a song. good shit

[tiredf-o-u-r]

Hoh man. The horrors of fantasizing about creating a social connection. Why does the mind torture itself .

[halfdeadfriedrice]

The neighbors (who, again, called dibs on The Best Cat) are like, "lol she's indoor-outdoor what can you do"

So uh until anyone does something about our burgeoning feral cat colony next door she shall simply be indoor...with me...as well.

[inf3ct3dd]

HARD WORK.

summary: your grandmas retirement to hawaii finally let you escape the annoying city life. but as it turns out, being a country girl aint easy work. luckily a hot stranger with a truck full of rakes and hoes has taken a liking to you.

gardener abby x black!oc

warnings: I AM A FREAK FOR GARDENER ABBY. little bit of creepy perv behavior, stalking, SEX

wc: 4.6k

authors note: heyyy guys miss u 😈 if anyone gaf i’ll post a part 2 cuz yk how i be… ts long as hell

abby noticed your presence about a week after you had moved.

she had recognized the yellow house, a familiar sight when she went on her drives to clear her head. it was certainly a sight for sore eyes. it was one of only three houses on the block, recognizable by the pale paint and the burnt orange front porch. she often wondered how the owners maintained it, as it was full of plants and trees. a big front yard with wildflowers, a cherry tree by the garage, and flower pots galore. its gorgeous. she also dreamed of what was behind the big door to the backyard, but she could see the faint sight of green trees from the top of it. its a beautiful house, no doubt. and the foliage was always kept perfect. bushes trimmed, lawn mowed, and the trees left the perfect shade for the summer time. she’d love to work there, but it seemed that the owners had it under control.

until you moved in.

after a while, she noticed the lawn becoming slightly overgrown, the bushes losing their shape, and the tree was dropping cherries all over the adorable pink slug bug in the driveway. she had taken that the original owners had moved out, but she had no idea who had replaced them. and clearly, that replacement had no idea how to tend to that house.

and then, she finally caught sight of you.

it was around about 3:30, if she remembered correctly. give or take five minutes. she was on her usual drive, exhausted and irritated from having to tell a woman that her grass would take at least a month to grow back from its butchered state. a bad raccoon problem left the entire yard torn, holes and dead yellow grass everywhere. but she had that off her mind now. she turned on her car stereo, old dad rock silencing her thoughts as she drove. the road you have to take to drive by the house is basically inside the forest. big, green trees on each side, a bumpy gravel road, and big hills. it was always a smooth ride, and the cool breeze from her window was a relief after sweating for 5 hours straight. she always hung her left arm out of the window, so much so that its slightly tanner than the other.

when she finally got to the house, she forgot everything she was thinking about. she even forgot where she was for a moment, making her stop the car.

she finally caught gaze of .. you. bent over the grass, seemingly trying to weed the garden. all she could see of you was your ass, and she wasn’t exactly complaining about the view. the denim shorts you were wearing left absolutely nothing to the imagination. along with the booty shorts, (the name very fitting), you had on a green spaghetti strap that clung to you like a wet suit. you had clearly been out there for a while, sweat pooling on the shirt and a drop sliding down the obvious cleavage in your shirt. she tried so hard to pull away, to leave you alone and not be a creep, but she couldn’t. it was like everything was moving in slow motion as she was eyeing you, and she slowly made her way up to your face after staring at your tits for an inappropriate amount of time. you had thick, black curls, that were pulled up haphazardly into a high ponytail. probably to get it out of your way while you worked. its clear you take advantage of how remote your house is, sitting in the yard looking like that. its unsafe, what if a weird freak comes over and stares at you from his truck?

abby quickly realized that she was the weird freak in question. even with the headphones in your ears, you noticed the presence behind you. you felt the rumbling of the truck through the ground, given the fact you were barefoot. you turned around to look at her, moving a curl out of your eyes and behind your ear. you raised a brow at the truck, confused. you couldn’t make out the person inside, with your glasses resting on the porch. you squinted and saw a rough image of some..blond person? you stared for a while longer, almost considering walking up to them . what’re they looking at? were you that bad at gardening?

abby was frozen the second you turned around. she definitely stared longer than she should have, not even noticing that you were staring as well. you had a confused look on your face as you squinted over at her. it was almost as if you couldn’t see her. when she thought the two of you made eye contact, she instantly started driving away. she tried to pull away slowly, to not be suspicious, but she zoomed down the road like a derby horse.

fuck. did she see me?

almost as soon as you saw the car, it drove away. they must’ve noticed you caught them and got embarrassed. who is that? you had seen a blob that sort of looked like blonde hair, but not much else. it was hard to discern anything from that, so you focused on what you did see. you felt like you had seen the car before, but then again, so many people have black pickup trucks around here. and its not like it had any significant details you’d remember it by, it was just a plain truck. not even a funny bumper sticker or something! its like the exact opposite of your car, the back of your beetle is covered in cute stickers, and you even got heart shaped rims. their car was different. it was so…rugged. whoever it is probably does some sort of hard job, like construction or something.

you shrugged off the whole thing, getting a bit too sweaty for your liking and heading inside. you wondered to yourself if they’d stop by again, maybe you should keep an eye on your window!

while you were pondering over who the mysterious figure in the truck was, the figure herself was freaking out. she couldn’t stop imagining you on that lawn, seeing your confused face and glossy pout as you stared at her. did you even realize someone was looking at you? did you feel weird and scared now? was that the absolute most pervy thing she could’ve done?? and most importantly, would you notice if she did it again? she shook the thought as soon as it came. she was practically berating herself, mumbling “don’t be weird” under her breath. she tried to think about other things. the smell of the trees lining the road. the tree in your front yard. fuck, this is difficult.

eventually, she settled on thinking about your yard. she tried not to focus on the image of you bent over in front of it, and her behind you, and she slowly remembered something. you could not garden for shit. you had missed a bunch of huge strips mowing, the bushes were lopsided, and you were knee deep in weeds. it was obvious you had no idea what you were doing, and she knew it would be so easy to fix it.

“looks like you need some help.” she uttered from behind you on the front yard, and you turned around, puzzled.

“you think so?” you stared up at her, doe eyes nearly punching her in the chest. you were still sweaty, in the same tank top.

“yeah, you look hot. let me cool you off.” and with that, she grabbed at the bottom of the shirt. “can i”-

“abby. cut it out.” she pulled herself out of the daydream, realizing she had stopped her car once again. thankfully, the road was completely empty, so she kept driving. there wasn’t anything worth staring at over here, so she kept it pushing. freak.

she tried to push whatever happened earlier to the back of her mind all day. but its like she got hypnotized. she drove up to her house, and she stupidly expected to see you in her front yard. she went inside, and she wondered what the inside of your house looked like. does she have carpet? what color are her walls?

she quickly shut down the thought of “walls” as an…untasteful image appeared in her head. she took a shower, a near freezing one, and she imagined what type of showers you like. or if you were even a shower person, maybe you liked baths. you’d probably shriek if you stepped into the shower and it was the wrong temperature. she imagined you sitting on the edge of the tub, letting the water run over your fingers until it was justtt right. she imagined you sitting down in the tub, and - nothing. she didn’t imagine anything else.

she cooked herself some pasta for dinner, and sat down on her couch to eat. do you like spaghetti? she started thinking about that scene in the lady and the tramp, except you and her replaced the dogs. once again, she shut that down right after she started. she ate her food and threw her dishes in the sink, almost running to her bedroom. because she was tired. no other reason.

you had gotten a call from your grandma a little while after you went inside. you didn’t necessarily want to talk to anyone right now, but you owed it to her after she basically gave her house to you for free. she talked for what felt like forever, about her new house, the beach, everything. and after a million “really”s and “oh wow”s, she asked you to show her the house.

you showed her around the inside first, panning around the living room, kitchen, and all the rooms, she was very satisfied with how clean you kept the house. its easy to take care of when its just you making the messes, and not an aggravating messy roomate. you felt like a lonely housewife who’s husband left for war.

afterwards, you went out into the backyard. her smiling face turned into a confused grimace within seconds.

“honey, who did the lawn?” she asked, so much concern in her voice you’d assume she just walked in on a crime scene.

“i did! doesn’t it look good?” you chimed, confused on why she sounds like you’ve just killed a man.

“…no. it looks like a hot mess. you missed like, three spots! and lord, what did you do to my bushes?” she let out a loud sigh.

“…i trimmed them?” your pride was wiped off your face, a small frown replacing it.

“i don’t even wanna see the front. you know what, you need to find a gardener. someone. as long as its not you. ill pay for it myself, just…don’t touch anything.”

“at least my plants aren’t dead and the grass is still green.” she mumbled under her breath, hanging up the phone.

where the hell are you gonna find a gardener?

with your spirits crushed, you sat with your computer and your glasses resting on your nose, “how to fix a messed up lawn” reflecting on the glass. r/lawncare said to leave it and let it re-grow before mowing it again, evenly. wait at least a week or two and keep watering it. but don’t touch it.

so, you decided to listen. the gardener hunt could wait till later, you were sleepy. you ended up dozing off on the couch watching chopped, and you had forgotten all about it by the morning.

abby however, can’t forget anything.

after a long, sleepless night, abby was running out of things to distract herself. why was she going borderline insane over some random girl? she’s seen hot girls before. were you a witch or something?

she went through her day with the same irritating questions going through her head. what does she listen to when she drives? what does she order at the coffee shop? whats her name?

she realized by the time she was on her lunch break she needed to answer at least one of her questions. she already knew where you lived, whats the harm in knowing your name?

she had slightly known your grandma, only the fact that they owned the farm that was down the road from the house. and that it was named after their last name. small town advantage, am i right?

after googling the last name, a facebook profile showed up. presumably exactly who she thought it was. she scrolled through pictures of her at the beach, on family vacation, unfunny memes,and a post that made her chuckle for a whole minute.

she knew she was in the right place now.

after scrolling for a while longer, she found exactly what she was looking for: a picture of you and the woman, your arm slung around her shoulder. you looked like you were at a wedding, all dolled up in a green satin dress with your hair down. you were wearing glasses, too.

“so she probably didn’t see me.”

you looked just as gorgeous as yesterday, and the picture was captioned “my beautiful granddaughter r ♥️💐😘🥰” and there was many more of her old lady friends and relatives calling you gorgeous. didn’t she know it.

she typed the name , your name, into facebook yet again, and there you were. the profile picture was of you as a baby, little black curls pulled into two pigtails as you grabbed at the camera with a cheesy smile. albeit, you only had two teeth, but it was definitely a smile. you’ve just always been cute, huh?

she looked down at the bio, and found everything else she needed to know. whos idea was it to make people give facebook all their personal information?

it was obvious this account was just for family, as it was mostly just reposts of your relatives posts and pictures she would deem “family friendly.” but the pictures were mostly of things other than you, like cats and pretty buildings you saw. it gave off the perfect, innocent impression to anyone who’d come across it.

but after finding your facebook, it didn’t take her much longer to find your instagram. and your tiktok. and your tumblr from when you were in highschool? maybe she was digging a little too deep.

your instagram wasn’t that stark of a contrast to your facebook. add a little more cleavage, and a much more active..social life, and it was basically the same. you hadn’t posted much with your friends in a while though, only stills of your plane and you relaxing in your new home. tough time making friends over here?

she snooped even more into your following, and at first there wasn’t anything really interesting. some music artists you liked, random cat accounts, and baking accounts. cute. but, after a while, she recognized something. the name of the place you worked at that she saw on your facebook. a veterinary office. the profile mostly had pictures of cats and dogs and some smaller animals, but when she saw a post about the offices pet fundraiser, she immediately recognized your face. cheesy smile, holding up a small kitten to your cheek. it was adorable.

she looked up the address in the account’s bio, and she saw that it was a 5 minute drive from her house. perfect coincidence. alice would love to take a walk after work today, wouldn’t she?

her snooping was interrupted by the alarm she had set for the end of her break. startled, she slightly jumped out of her seat before swinging her door open and plopping her phone in her back pocket. she knew what her plans for this afternoon were.

while abby was scheming up her stalkerish plans, you were just.. bored. you sat at the front desk, doodling one of the dogs you saw come in earlier with one earbud in your ear, fleetwood mac giving you soft background music to the emptiness of the lobby. with it being tuesday and all, it wasn’t very busy. your shift didn’t end for a few hours though, and you would rather be bored than busy.

you decided to people watch outside the window for a bit. you saw an old lady walking around with another old lady, holding coffee cups from the cafe down the street. they were engrossed in conversation, and you tried to lip read, but could only make up a few nonsensical words before they disappeared out of your view. a man walked by with his disgruntled teen daughter, headphones pulled over her ears with an annoyed grimace. once again, it looked like the father was saying something, but you had no idea what.

after a few more people walked past, you saw someone who actually…caught your eye. it was a tall blonde woman, hair weaved neatly into a braid that rested on her right shoulder. she had on a black tshirt that showed of her toned arms, and grey cargo pants with green grass stains on them. you tried to glance at her face, but she was facing the side. all you could really see was the outline of her curved nose, and the soft shape of her lips. her side profile looked perfectly carved, like a statue. she had on black over the ear headphones too, and she was holding a leash to a big german shepherd. shes hot, and she has a dog? you subconsciously started fixing your hair, just in case she was walking in here. she stopped near the door, and you nearly pounced to greet her. but your excitement was cut short when you saw her walk slightly further, and pull out a small stack of papers and a roll of tape. was she putting up fliers?

you watched her place one on the light post outside your building, holding the tape in her mouth as she did so. you tried hard not to drool all over your desk as you watched her. you couldnt make out what the paper said as she walked away, and you wasted no time going outside to see what it was.

and when you finally approached it, you felt as god himself was giving you an offering. the flier read "abby anderson gardening services.” there was a small graphic of a pretty flower, and an even more captivating image of the woman who had put up the flier. abby, that’s a sweet name.

you quickly ripped off one of the small pieces of paper on the bottom of the flier, placing it in your sweater pocket before skipping back into your work gleefully. a hot girl who was gonna save you from your gardening dilemma? somebody pinch you.

abby hadn’t had the smallest confidence her plan had worked. her heart was practically beating out of her chest, and the questions kept on pouring in. did she even see? will she even notice? what if she did see, and she recognized me as the freak who was ogling her outside her house? she planned all this perfectly. she spent 3 hours last night making those stupid fliers. scrolling through a million different fonts, searching through her camera roll for good pictures, she needed it to be as believable as possible. she had parked her truck well out of view a few blocks away, carried extra fliers, and brought alice with her to try and hide her true intentions. normal gardener walking her dog and putting up fliers, thats all she was. definitely not a weirdo that saw a girl pruning her front yard and got so hot and bothered that she devised a whole plan that would maybe get her to call her.

she shook her head, practically trying to shake away her thoughts, and she kept on walking.

you were telling yourself that you’d call her right when you got off work.

and after sitting on your bed for 5 minutes staring at her number typed into your phone, it was tomorrow.

and then tomorrow, it was the day after that.

the fear made absolutely no sense to you. you’re calling a gardener! whats the worst shes gonna say? ‘oh no, im not gardening for you because you’re stupid and also im going to run you over with my lawn mower.’ its her job to do this!! you had even saved her number in your phone as “hot gardener” so you wouldn’t forget her.

you were silently hoping that youd see her around somewhere. she’d approach you, start some dumb conversation, suddenly bring up the fact that shes a gardener, and then you get your “really? i’ve been looking for one!” moment. perfect meet cute.

but its like she vanished into thin air.

every time you went to work, or even out shopping, you were dolled up for no reason. wearing shirts with extra cleavage, making sure you have on lipgloss constantly, you were not taking any chances. even when you were doing the most mundane activities, you swiped on a layer of mascara before you left the house. just in case. but your luck wasn’t striking you at all. does she not live in the neighborhood?

abby definitely lived in the neighborhood. after checking her flier and seeing a missing phone number, she spent the whole night waiting for her phone to ring. she did anything and everything to try and keep her busy, which included cleaning her entire apartment and stalking your instagram. you had posted a picture of your cat on your story. cute.

after almost 5 hours of waiting around, she was pacing around her living room like a tiger in captivity. every notification she got she pounced at her phone, but she was continuously disappointed. no manny, i don’t want to go out tonight. dont ever text my phone again and also i hate you.

it was around 12:45 when her phone finally rang. she picked up instantly, barely letting it ring. she cleared her throat and tried to feign nonchalance in her voice. but instead of your sweet voice asking about her lawn, it was a telemarketer. she threw her phone on the couch and collapsed on her floor. it was gonna be a long night..

the next day, she knew she needed to check on you. what if something had happened? or, worse, what if you weren’t even the one who took the phone number? she came back the same way she did the first time she saw you, driving a liiiittle too slow past the vet office. and low and behold, you were perfectly fine. sat at the front desk talking to some girl with a cat. and when she looked at the flier, there was still only one slip missing. maybe you forgot?

she drove away, a childish pout on her face. it was pathetic , really.

when she was at the grocery store on the second day of waiting , that she definitely didn’t drive an extra five minutes to because it was close to you, she nearly had a heart attack when she saw you in the cereal aisle. cute hoodie and shorts on with your hair down. you seemed like you were having a hard time deciding between two cereals, holding the boxes next to each other and squinting. she imagined herself going up to you and delivering some smooth one liner about cereal that she was still trying to come up with, and carrying your groceries and you to your car. but as much as she wanted to, she kept her distance. heavily. she was looking around every five minutes like a shoplifter so she wouldn’t bump into you.

but not touching didn’t mean she couldn’t look. she saw you finally chuck the fruity pebbles into your basket, squeeze half the mangos on the display before picking one, and you last minute deciding to buy a pack of gum when you were checking out. she tried her hardest to not be jealous of the scrawny bag boy you smiled at, and when she finally saw you check out, she remembered she was supposed to be getting stuff for dinner. shit.

and the day after that, when she stopped at the gas station by your street because it was ‘cheaper’, she recognized your beetle in two seconds. she watched you step into the little mini market, clad in a pair of jean shorts and a random t shirt from a theme park , and she watched you walk out with a bag of hot cheetos as she pumped her gas. she had gotten a closer look at your bumper stickers, and she saw a small heart with a sunset flag. she couldn’t help but do a little fist pump when she got in her car.

none of her research was giving her any clarity though. she kept driving past her flier, day after day, and not a single other person had picked up a slip. was it even you who took it? are you gonna hire some other stupid gardener you found on your phone?

and on the third day, she had stayed home. she was beginning to give up hope you’d ever call, and she would never make a move first. especially if you had accidentally seen her on one of her little ventures. so, she cleaned her house again. she even dusted, thats how bored she was. the thoughts of you were constantly plaguing her. she almost took up mannys offer to go out tonight, try and get her mind off things.

but her mind stayed in the exact same place. her mind replayed the memory of you in the lawn yet again. she remembered the sweat dripping down your chest, the way your shorts were riding right up your thighs. she shoved her hand down her pants and imagined that they were yours.

she remembered how nice and smooth your voice sounded on the videos she saw. even though you never said much, even her imagining it made her even wetter. she kept rubbing her middle finger up and down her clit, picturing you whispering in her ear.

“you’re such a fucking creep. you keep watching me at work, following me around, and now you’re fucking yourself to me? we’ve never even met. you’re acting like a desperate slut for some random girl, you’re not embarrassed?”

the dialogue she was imagining in her head was getting her further and further. she almost imagined you saying it, the voice being strange and inconsistent to her. still, she moved faster, hearing the noise her slick covered fingers made as she moved. she kept letting out heavy breaths, flexing her hips upwards onto her hand.

“you know, you could’ve just come up to talk to me. how pathetic are you? can’t even talk to a girl?”

she imagined your breath on her neck, watching her. if she focused enough, she could feel the indent in her bed of you next to her. she started moving even faster, letting out loud moans as she pressed down on her clit even harder. she arched her back as she did, pushing her head against her headboard. she could feel the pressure building in her lower stomach, and she was practically humping her hand. she got sweatier and sweatier, the blanket covering her lower half not making it any better.

“are you really this desperate? you could-“

abbys fantasy was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing next to her. right when she was close. fuck. she nearly abandoned the phone call, but then the thought crossed her hazy mind. what if it was you?

so she wiped her hands on her boxers , took a deep breath, and answered her phone.

she tried not to get her hopes up, worried it might be another telemarketer. annoyed at the fact that she gave up cumming for some random person.

“hello? is this..-abby?”

[joeloverture]

fair's fair | pervy!dbf!joel x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: pervy!dbf!joel x pervy!f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel shoves you in his sweaty pits as a 'joke'. warnings: (18+ mdni) pervy!dbf!joel, age gap (early to mid 20s/38), somewhat mutual pining & sexual tension, joel in a wifebeater and jorts, reader has hair, smacking joel's ass like god intended, degradation, sweaty!joel, musk kink, armpit kink!!!, coming untouched, joel calls reader 'kiddo', 2 spanks, m!masturbation [no use of y/n] word count: 2.1k a/n: in another life, i'd be sorry for this fic. in this life, i am not. as always, a shoutout to the effervescent @lovesickonmybed for moodboard curation + creating this au. love to @seventeenpins for taking a glimpse at this + inspiring me. ty esquire team.... hooooly shit. pls suspend your disbelief if you can't come untouched we're here for a good time not a realistic one. btw you're all pussies for chickening out of the pit fics you 'planned' to write after this esquire photo fell into our laps /j

You awake to a rattling crash on the other side of the wall that you share with your dad’s combination garage/man cave. With an exaggerated groan, you peel yourself out of your creased sheets. Maybe the raccoons that have been terrorizing your garbage cans have finally broken into the garage. You’re still in your pajamas — a low-cut tank top and some bloomers that are entirely too short on you — when you rub the sleep from your eyes and shove your feet into your slippers to investigate. 

The house is quieter than dust so early in the morning. Your dad’s out at work, and the rest of the neighborhood is just beginning to wake up. There’s the tstststststs of the Adler’s sprinkler system and the birds are chirping. In the mudroom, you snatch up a broom and wrap your fist around it. You listen through the paneling of the door for any hissing or scuttling, but hear nothing. You are not looking to get rabies today.

You poke your head out of the door, broom pointed at the ground like a staff. Immediately, you’re blinded by a slice of sunshine cutting through the very much open garage.

You’re about two seconds away from sprinting back inside to call 911 when you see the unkempt, sunkissed hair of none other than Joel Miller.

You set the broom gently back against the wall. Joel’s not a threat – at least not to anything but that traitor between your legs. He’s just your dad’s buddy; drinking buddy, fishing buddy, jack-of-all-trades buddy. He’s also no stranger to those borderline goo-goo eyes you give him. How could you not? He’s just so broad and muscled and God, you swear up and down that you stare more at his ass than anyone has ever stared at yours.

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, he’ll even give you shit about it. Bending over directly in your line of sight at block parties, ‘play wrestling’ with you on the dock by the lake whenever you jokingly call him an old man, or, in one very special instant, giving your ass a smack that sent you into an hours long tizzy.

You deserve to give him shit about it, too.

After all, he’s the one ferreting around in your dad’s garage in the wee hours of the morning. You pad into the garage, footsteps muffled by your slippers as you navigate around your dad’s pickup. You catch a better look at Joel when you pass the truck bed. And, for better or for worse, he’s dressed like a slut.

His ribbed white wifebeater stretches over his wide chest, grass stains scattered along the small of his back. Sweat darkens the hems of his shirt under his armpits, glistening and beading on the back of his neck, too. In true dad fashion, he even has on jorts. He’s bent over your dad’s tool bench, thumbing around an assortment of screwdrivers. His denim-covered ass sticks out. A smile spreads across your face.

You slip around the truck and take soft step after soft step until you’re right behind him. You can’t help but notice a cocktail of his pheromones and B.O. surrounding him. He must’ve been outside for a while now with all of the stains he’s accumulated on his shirt already. You keep your breathing muted so he can’t hear you as you reach out and — smack!

Joel shrieks, shooting upright. His head slams into the shelf overhead and a few bolts go toppling onto the concrete below. He cusses like a sailor as his hand goes up to rub the back of his head, nursing where a lump will probably be in a few hours time. Joel whips around to see you, smothering your giggles behind your hand. “You little shit,” he huffs, still scratching at his head. You don’t miss how his cheeks are firetruck red. “The fuck are ya doin’?”

“Me? The fuck are you doing, Miller? Stomping around my dad’s garage at, like, the asscrack of dawn–”

“Nine in the mornin’ ain’t the asscrack of dawn, sweetcheeks,” Joel says. Then, he holds up a set of pliers. “Mower shit the bed. I’m thinkin’ Sarah stole my pliers to make necklaces, but she hasn’t fessed up yet. Your pops said I could borrow his.” He stretches, giving you a long whiff of his scent. The groan he lets out stirs something in your stomach, much to your chagrin.

“I think the mower is the least of your worries,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “You reek. Shower shit the bed, too?”

“You try doin’ yard work in 90 degree heat, kiddo. See how much you smell like that strawberry raspberry peach whatever-the-fuck soap you’re usin’.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised you don’t see the back of your skull. “Rosemary eucalyptus,” you correct under your breath.

“Hmm, what was that?” Joel asks, tossing the pliers down onto the workbench. “Gotta speak up.”

“Rosemary eucalyptus,” you say. “But I bet you wouldn’t know. What do you use? 18 in 1?”

Joel grunts. “Real funny.” He takes a step closer to you, lips taut with a smirk. “How ‘bout you find out?”

You don’t have time to question what the hell he means – he just cups the back of your head with one of his wide palms and shoves your face directly into his closest sweaty pit. “Mmmmph!” you protest, mouth sealed shut against the thatch of hair that’s spattered across his skin. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually, you’re forced to suck in a breath through your squished nose. His musk, sweet and just as sharp, fills your airways. Your clit all but jerks between your legs in humiliation, drawing a whine out of your throat.

Joel chuckles, ruffling your hair. It’s enough to make your thighs clench. “You’re a little freak, huh?” He presses harder on the back of your head, so much so that you almost get a mouthful of his underarm.

“Youuu dick!” you try to say without opening your mouth too far. It comes out muffled against his sweat-pearled skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push him off of you.

Another wry chuckle comes from above. Joel bends his arm so that his elbow is wrapped around the back of your head, effectively trapping you in his funk. “Come on, huff ‘em. Practically fuckin’ asking for it earlier, all ‘a that mouthin’ off. So now you get a mouthful of my pits. Fair’s fair, kiddo.”

Embarrassment ribbons through your body, the kind that makes you leak into your panties against your will. Still looking for a way out, you squirm against his ironclad hold.

It’s only good for making him land a heavy-hitting slap across your ass. You yelp, a new wave of slick saturating the drenched gusset of your panties. You jump where you are, hips bucking into nothing – for escape or pressure, you’re not entirely sure. “Unless you wanna go over my knee instead?” Your face sears with humiliation.

Tentatively, you snuffle a bit against his pit, biting into your cheeks at his musk. It makes you cough a little bit – he’s been carrying the smell of cutting grass and his own sweat all morning.

“Yeah, thought so. But you can do better than that, sweetcheeks. I said huff, not fake an asthma attack.” You whimper, this time sucking in a longer breath. Here he is, holding you down, secure against his pit as you're left with no other option than to take what he gives you, when he gives it to you. All you can smell, feel, touch is just Joel, Joel, Joel. It makes you lightheaded.

Your clit is practically a kickdrum between your thighs, pulsing and doing more work than your head. You try to angle yourself so that you can rub your clit against Joel’s leg, but he puts a stop to that real quick. “Gettin’ all wound up just from being where ya belong, your pretty little face in my pit?” You mewl, reaching for Joel’s sides. You bunch your fists in the fabric of his wifebeater, and he allows it.

“Since you’re so eager to complain about it, how ‘bout you clean me up, huh?” He nudges his pit against your face again, and, confusedly, you furrow your brows. You can’t see much of him, but you do see the edge of his mouth tip up in satisfaction. “You got rocks for brains? Lick, kiddo.”

Hesitance drives the soft kitten lick of your tongue, swiping up and down across a very small portion of his pit. He loosens up on his grip on you, giving you the slightest bit more reign. You try to tell yourself that you’re scared of what he might do if you disappoint him, but hell if you don’t want this as much as he does, tongue, nose, face buried in his pits. Some sort of ultimate form of worship between the two of you.

You lave your tongue across his pit, eyes fluttering with each stroke. You swirl it in the crease of his arm, sucking his goddamn hairs clean with the fervor you’ve picked up. Enthused now, you bob your head up and down. Your clit responds, throbbing with a heartbeat of its own.

You’re panting, inhaling and exhaling him, lapping up his musk like a fucking dog, gone from reluctant to eager. Your clit twitches faster and faster, and you swear that arousal must be tacky on the insides of your thighs, leaking through your panties all over the front of your bloomers, but you can’t do anything about it. You can’t even grind against Joel – you can only slurp against his armpit, something like desperation having replaced all of your previous mortification from when he’d shoved you there in the first place.

You’re so preoccupied with pleasing him that you don’t even notice the thumping of your clit, picking up speed and pressure. Your body seizes in between your greedy little licks. You feel yourself weaken before you stiffen.

And maybe it’s the way Joel keeps groaning with each movement of your tongue. It could be how he exhales, “Kiddo,” in a raspy voice, both demeaning and endearing all at once. But in the end, it’s how he says, “Mmmm, such a good goddamn tongue. Bet it’d feel so good on my cock,” that breaks the dam between your legs.

You shudder, coming completely undone with little moans and whimpers in Joel’s arms without so much as a hand on your clit, just your face smothered in his pit. Drool runs down your lips and across your chin as you jerk and weaken in his grasp. If you weren’t so underwater, so far gone, you’d be able to hear him saying, “Fuck – whoa, whoa, whoa,” trying to stop you from falling on your ass in the middle of the garage. His hands card across your sides as he props you up against the workbench. Your vision blackens at the edges from the intensity of your orgasm, and you’re still coming, at least you think you are, when you blink yourself back to awareness. You’re wide-eyed, tears brimming at your waterline, incapacitated in a way that you didn’t know you could be.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you finally fully come to, slumped over the workbench, still half-clinging to Joel. “Fuck.”

Joel looks stunned, looking you up and down as if he can’t get enough of you. His eyes land right between your thighs, where, sure enough, you’ve ruined your bloomers. You still feel like deadweight, and you struggle to stand upright. You’re not sure you’ve ever come so hard even with someone’s hands all over your. Joel’s glistening with even more sweat, and it’s impossible to miss the glaring bulge in his shorts. He clears his throat after a minute. “Oughta go get cleaned up before your daddy gets back for his lunch break, kiddo.”

You stumble upright, drenched in sweat yourself now, Joel’s lingering scent still pervading every breath you take. “Y-yeah,” you manage, nodding. You feel out of your own body, stumbling towards the door. You’re so wet that you can feel it with every goddamn step. Fuck Joel Miller, cocky piece of sh–

You’re immediately returned to your own body by the resounding swat Joel lands on your ass. You jump, shooting a glare over your shoulder. He puts his hands up, pleading innocence.

You’re not surprised when you crawl out of your shower, smelling of rosemary eucalyptus and dripping water all over the floor, only to see Joel’s mower abandoned in the middle of his yard. Even worse, you aren’t surprised in the slightest when you squint through your bedroom window, Joel sprawled out across his bed, hips bucking in-time with his fist before catching your eye and spraying ropes of cum all over his abdomen.

You mouth at him through the window with a taunting little wink, Clean yourself up this time.

[ladylooch]

All About You- Brady Skjei

A/N: Whew, is it ever too early for smut on a Saturday? No? Okay thanks for making me feel better 🤪

I had a couple of requests for Brady Skjei, so this is my gift to both of those lovely anons.

My perception of Brady is very, very soft with a rough side, so I tried to capture that perception here. Thanks for reading!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+ Content, swearing, unsavory things while driving (be safe. Obey most of the laws).

I’m awakened on an off-day Sunday by Brady rolling out of bed. I wince at the sun streaking in through the blinds, annoyed with last night us that decided we were too drunk to do one last step. I toss my arm over my eyes, stretching my back out. I attempt to settle myself deeper into bed as I feel the other side dip from Brady’s return.

“How do you want your coffee?” He asks me. His fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling it from my face so he can place kisses along my soft skin. I sigh at the brief presses, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Cold and in two hours.” I mutter.

“Cold it is.” Another kiss and he’s gone.

I doze in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes until I hear his heavy footsteps coming back down the hall. I open one eye at him, seeing my to-go tumbler filled with delicious liquid gold. I reach for it, confused.

“Am I going somewhere?” 

“Yeah, baby. Get dressed. Comfy clothes only today.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” His smile is mischievous. 

“Brady, it’s too early for games.” I say to him, slowly sitting up. My shoulders slouch forward. I can tell my hair is a mess, my mascara is definitely smudged into raccoon eyes and my breath is hot garbage. And still, he looks at me like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. His brown eyes liquify. Eventually, he comes to, leaning forward to connect our lips. He doesn’t mind garbage breath. 

“No games. I promise.” He says nothing more as he wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me from the bed. 

“This is a game.”

“No, it’s to get you to move that hot ass a little faster.” He sets me in the bathroom then gives my butt a slap. “Hustle, Skjei.”

I try to do as coach asked, alternating between getting ready tasks and small sips of my coffee. Brady comes in at least three more times to check my progress until I shut the door on him.

“You’re making this take longer!” I yell through the door at his protesting.

“I need you done in five minutes.” He responds.

I’m done in three, opening the door to find him laying on the bed, hands crossed over his stomach, staring at the ceiling. He pops up, assessing my outfit of yoga pants and a cropped, peach sweatshirt. My hair is settled into a high ponytail and I’m makeup free.

“Just the way I like you.” He murmurs, walking towards me. His hands slide to my ass, gripping both cheeks with his strong hands. His mouth encloses mine. My fingers card through his long hair, tugging the strands slightly just how he loves. “Oof. Okay, we better go before I change my mind.”

“When do I get to know where we are going?” I ask him as I click my seatbelt into place. 

“When we get there.” He insists, pulling out of our garage. “Enjoy the ride, baby.” He jokes as he puts on my favorite true crime podcast that he literally loathes. I squeal in delight, tucking my legs into a pretzel, gripping my tumbler and listening intently. 

We are on the road, traveling through the morning humidity haze until we come to an obscure building with windows only facing out towards a fenced wooded area. I turn to Brady expectantly. 

“Today is all about you.” He murmurs. “You’ve been so good to me this season. Taking care of every detail with the house renovation, food for us, attending every home game, and making sure I’m always ready to hit the road. I love and appreciate you so much. I couldn’t be successful in this league without you.”

“B-” I pout sweetly at him.

“Nah. Don’t deflect. I mean it, I’m so lucky to have you. So, I planned a whole spa day for you. Just you. I know you really want to get some alone time in to recharge, so it’s all set for you.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, whatever they do here, you’re getting it. You deserve to be pampered. And I would gladly do it, but I think you’ll be getting better service from the professionals.” I laugh, thinking of Brady attempting to paint my nails.

“Let’s be honest. We wouldn’t get passed the massage part.” I grin, leaning across the center console to kiss him. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.”

“Thank you. Now, get out of this car. I’ll pick you up in five hours.”

Brady wasn’t kidding. He absolutely went all out for me. The spa had it all- tranquil music, cozy waiting areas, and the most luxurious robes I’d ever slipped onto my body. I started with a gentle, Swedish massage, then moved into a moisturizing facial. By the time I got to my manicure and pedicures, I was a puddle of goo in the chair. I sipped on expensive champagne, ate delicious snacks of fruit and assorted cheeses all while enjoying my own company and several podcasts that had built up in my Spotify episodes. By the time I saw my husband again, I felt like a completely different person.

“Holy shit.” I say to him as I collapse into the passenger seat. His hand immediately finds my thigh, rubbing his thumb against the smooth fabric of my pants. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed in my whole life. And that includes our honeymoon.” I rest my head back against the seat, sighing contently. I slowly open my eyes, turning to Brady who gives me that same look from this morning- like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. “Thank you.” I finish in a whisper. “This season has been a grind.” I admit, not that it’s news. After two shortened seasons, the 82 game season was an adjustment. 

“I know.” He reaches his hand up, cupping my cheek to bring our lips together. He feels like heaven. I can’t help but moan. The air in the car shifts and Brady presses his mouth tighter to mine. I nibble his bottom lip in my mouth, reaching my hand out to skirt across the zipper of his shorts. 

“Only one more thing could make this day perfect.”

“Oh, we aren’t even close to done yet.” He tells me. “That was just phase one.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” I whine, watching as he pulls away to start driving.

“It was the five star head on our 1st date.”

“Brady!” I snap, slapping his thigh. His quad seemingly claps back, making my hand sting. My cheeks tint red at the memory. Normally I’m not someone to put out on the first date, but something about Brady was different from the start. I wanted to.. no I had to, at that sophomore year homecoming party hosted by the hockey team.

“I think about that on a weekly basis.” He admits to me, flipping his turn signal on and heading to the right. “Knew I’d do just about anything to keep that mouth on me.” I drop my head in my hands, laughing. I slide my fingers apart, swiveling my head to look at him.

“What would you do for it right now?” I can feel the breath rush from his chest at the thought. Most of our way home is obscure backroads. Very little traffic is with us or going the opposite direction. It’s risky, but not impossible.

“You start us in this car and I’ll finish us inside of you.”

“Promise?” I ask, skirting my fingers along the growing bulge.

“Yeah, baby.” He moans as I work the button of his shorts apart.

After a little awkward maneuvering, I get him out of his boxer briefs. I work the seatbelt around my shoulders, keeping it across my lap and perching my mouth in front of his thick shaft. I wrap my fingers delicately around it, pumping the velvet skin and watching as a bead appears at his slit. My tongue licks at it, savoring the salty pleasure. Brady’s hand comes between my shoulder blades like he’s bracing himself for what is next. I kiss his tip the leisurely part my lips for pull him into my mouth. The passionate sigh he releases has anticipating tightening my inner core.

“Was it this good?” I ask him before taking him all the way into my mouth. I let him thrust deeper, nudging down my throat. 

“No.” He admits. “It’s better now that you’re my wife.” I smile around him, then grip the base of his shaft with my hand. When my mouth and hand begin to work together, Brady groans deeply. His breathing increases and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. He presses into my back, encouraging me deeper. I do, then revel in the tortured sounds coming from his mouth. I feel the car stop, sensing we are just about to turn left into our neighborhood. “Go faster until the light turns green.” He begs. I comply, working him over quickly- sucking, licking, and squeezing. “Fuuuuuck.” He moans. A car honks behind us. Brady tugs my ponytail for me to stop. “No more until we are home. Damn, I hate saying that, but I won’t make it if you keep going.”

I pop back up, shoulders rolled back like a queen while wiping at my mouth. Brady’s hand moves to between my legs, feeling the heat radiating. He works his fingers in deeper as I spread wider for him. I grip his wrist as he teases me with the tips of his fingers, not able to get the movement he wants through my Lulu’s. 

“Hold on a bit longer, babe.” He says as he turns onto our street.

The garage door is barely open enough for the car to clear. I cringe, expecting Brady to hit it and breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t. When the car is in park, he pushes the button again to close. I shove my door open, meeting him on the outside. Our hands grope each other greedily. He works us backwards towards the door. He presses me hard against the wood, wrapping my knee around his waist to grind into my folds.

I reach behind me, twisting the knob so we crash into the mudroom. Brady spins us, then pulls me towards the built in oak, cubbies.

“Come here.” He demands, sitting in the middle of the built ins. I laugh, thinking of how we built these slots for our future children to have a place for their little coats and shoes.

Brady’s shorts drop to his ankles. I work myself to straddle his lap, more than ready for him to be stuffed inside of me. I grip his rigid cock so I can slide down. I glide down him, settling my thighs against his. I moan, accepting his immediate thrusting up into me. I’m so wet, him so rigid, that the feelings are electing profound moans from us both. 

“Good God.” He pants, looking up into my face as I ride him. He shoves my shirt up, pulling my sports bra down to reveal my nipple. I sob out in pleasure as he works the bud with his tongue. I reach up, gripping the metal hooks and adjusting my angle on him. 

“Yes. Oh my god, yes.” I laugh incredulously at how unbelievable it feels. I can already feel my orgasm torturing me for release. “Babe.” I warn him.

“Mmm, you’re so beautiful fucking me like this.” He insists between tugs on my nipple.

“I’m coming.” I tell him. He keeps the exact tempo I need, keeping my nipple flush against his tongue as he wiggles me to my explosive orgasm. “Fu-fuck yes.” I wail, gripping the back of his neck, my fresh manicure digging into his tan skin. “Shit.” I sob to him as my inner muscles clench tightly around him.

“God damn.” He moves his hand to the small of my back, working my hips into him until he fills me. I rut against him to help him finish completely, then collapse against his chest. 

“So our least favorite kid gets this one?” He jokes of the cubbies. 

“That’s mean…” I trail off, hot breath dancing against his t-shirt.

“Fair… maybe the one we just made then.” I smile against his skin. 

“So we are trying now?”

“I mean, you threw your birth control out of the car last night on the way home from dinner?”

“What!” I exclaim, shocked.

“Yeah, you were like… I’m ready Brady!” He mocks me with a high voice. His hand tosses over his shoulder.

“What the…” I trail off, not remembering that. “Stop letting me drink Palomas.”

“I mean, I just came in you unprotected so, I’ve done what I can on that for nine months.”

“Yeah… then I guess we are trying. Thanks drunk me.” I giggle, placing our lips together. Brady gently lifts me. I wince a bit as he slides out, my folds feeling used and a bit raw. 

“Okay?” He asks me, searching my face.

“Way better than okay.” I assure him.

“You ready for phase two?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Good. Trashy TV, couch cuddles, and take out- coming right up.”

It’s finally confirmed, I think to myself as Brady exits the mudroom to get phase 2 prepared. Being married to Brady Skjei is heaven on earth.

[raccoonfallsharder]

feel like this is a given but ur not into rocket because he’s a raccoon right? like more in spite of it? /genuine question

his character is rlly fun so like i get it i have just had bad experiences with bestiality on tumblr lolololol

i feel like i just made the same activation-noise my cat makes when i wake him up. sweetheart you must be new here. i hope you already had an idea of how famously longwinded i am before you asked

so. i get this question a lot but your ask is like, the polite version lol, so i’ll actually answer. i’m not sure what bad experiences you’ve had on tumblr but i’m really sorry you went through that. any experience where you’re exposed to something you don’t want to be exposed to can be traumatizing and exhausting, and if anyone was trying to push your boundaries with those things, that’s not okay. i’m honestly grateful you felt like you could ask this question in this space.

anyway let me start by saying i personally support the harkness test for monster (or fictional character) fucking.

personally, i am not into rocket “because” he’s a raccoon. (and is he? is he really? he does not remind me of the raccoons who my mom tells me about during our weekly phone call, who keep trying to kill her chickens and move into her garage. though frankly, i still root for the raccoons). the only thing truly raccoonlike about rocket is his body, and even that is questionable (have you seen that shoulder-to-waist ratio? that is not a chubby lil raccoon). sure he's got the stripey tail and the black mask and the twitchy lil ears and ruby-red eyeshine, but beyond that, he has been altered not just down to his brains and his bones, but to his genes. when rocket says there's no thing like him except him, he's... absolutely being truthful.

god, i honestly have so much to say about what raccoon means in the context of gotg but like. you're not here for that. maybe it'll be a separate longwinded post you can read if you want.

all this to say that personally, i am not generally attracted to raccoons. though i guess if we ever find one that is self-aware enough to evaluate their own emotionalistic intelligence (and considers it lacking), can speak a clear human language and sings like bradley cooper, regularly walks upright and has opposable thumbs, has an incredibly sarcastic sense of humor, is a tech-genius, is an incredible (though not infallible) single dad, has a complicated relationship with the thought of his own death, and regularly saves the galaxy, i may have to see if my opinion changes

but that kinda seems like a tomorrow-problem

tbh bodies have never been that important to me in terms of attraction. so yeah. i like rocket (and i find him attractive) because i see him as a character of such rich empathy that the only way he knows how to protect himself is to try and turn his empathy off. i like him because he fails at turning off his empathy, pretty much every fuckin time.

i like him because he knows what pain and loss are, and because he blames himself for things so obviously outside of his locus of control (me too, buddy, me too).

i like how he loves people, so deeply he carries them in his bones and never gives up their memories — not just batch 89, either, but also all the guardians who had been snapped into ash. he holds onto them so hard that he brings them back from the dead.

frankly i also like that he's acab and a leftist. (don't tell me this motherfucker escaped from twenty-three prisons and thinks defunding the cops is enough. he doesn't.)

i like how scrappy he is, and how devoted he is, and how sarcastic he is, and what a good dad he is, and i love how he is constantly underestimated by literally everyone (but by himself most of all).

and when i get to write him a little snuggle time — platonically or, erm, less platonically — it heals something for me, and hopefully maybe for a reader or two. like, yeah, okay, you're scared and lonely and hurting and sometimes you say mean things that you regret and sometimes you don't like yourself very much. sometimes you don't feel like you belong in your own body, and sometimes you feel purposeless and worthless and low, and sometimes you feel guilty just for breathing. but hey, you still deserve to feel like you can offer your kindness, and your warmth, and your connection, and your community, and your love.

and you deserve to let yourself receive those things too.

and you do.

anyway if this wasn't enough justification for why i'm into this raccoon here's another tirade abut how relatable and awesome he is

[shotmrmiller]

I read so much !reader content on here... the problem is I'm such a stuttering stumbling mess of a human trying to string a sentence together normally, that faced with any of the 141... I would probably just blush so violently that my heart gives out.

Like, so I'm 5'1. I am short. I'm kinda chunky/have the jiggly mom bod. Any of them will tower over me, that's issue number one. Having to crane my neck to see any of them. But then... like... I'd try to speak and the words will get stuck. (literal speech impediment) and I'd make some dumb sound trying to get the words out... (think Red Strange in Pearl Harbor)

Then I'd probably just... die of embarrassment. Reading the content here trying to imagine myself in these positions and I know they'd break my brain before I get a dang word out...

Shy Racoon Anon

🦝

nooooo cuz theyd be so patient with you! they'd wait in a comfortable silence if you were getting somewhere, or toss you a lifeline by being a word bank.

and as for your height, i cannot help you on that lmaoooo im so sorry. im a healthy 5'5 so

maybe they'll jokingly point out that if you wanna argue, there's a stepladder in the garage they can go get for you.

"to even the playing field."

lmaoooooo

so sorry.

welcome back, shy raccoon anon ❤️❤️❤️

[lex-the-flex]

My loveeeeeeee can we get our love Mr. Kennedy reacting to his s/o getting hurt pushing him or moving him out of harms way. Or... hear me out, a spider enemy because they get huge dragging her off and Leon Finding her in its web and hes relieved when he finally finds her. I am in a mood today. Love you!

Come Back to Me

Leon S. Kennedy x reader 

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, heavy angst, action and violence, descriptions of injuries, and my severe arachnophobia.

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy! 

“Okay, are you ready? We could cut through that gun shop.” Leon advises, pointing down the street.

Leaning out from underneath the garage’s entrance, the bright red neon sign of: Kendo’s Gun Shop lights up against the wet pavement.

“Yeah, let’s do it. That jail gave me the creeps.” You reply, shuddering in the borrowed police uniform Marvin gave you.

Jogging down the street, Leon discovers that the gun shop is bolted shut. Proposing to go around through the open sewer drain, echoes of the Tyrant’s footsteps stomp from the police station. Hesitating toward a chain link fence, Leon pressed his shoulder against your body, shielding you from the incoming attack.

However unbeknownst to you or Leon, something else in the dark has plans for you. Looming on the top of the fence, a new type of enemy: an insect hisses above you and Leon. The sight of a mutated spider-like creature makes you scream in fear. Latching a tentacle around your neck, Leon immediately pulls out his knife, but isn’t quick enough.

“Leon!” You call you, reaching for the young officer.

Catching your hand, Leon holds into you all his might, refusing to let go. But the spider spews a string of venom in his face, which he dodges.

Breaking Leon’s grip, the Drain Deimos snatches you up and drags you along the catwalks between each of the brick apartments, deeper into Raccoon City.

“Y/N, no!” Leon shouts, only to receive no answer.

****

After searching for you for a few hours, Leon never lost hope. He was determined to find you above all else. Umbrella and Nest could wait. 

You were his top priority. 

Reaching the subway station, Leon opened the control room door and was greeted with a scary sight: spiders. And they were everywhere. Those things took complete control of the subway station, but Leon had to find you. 

Descending through the maze, Leon braced every corner in a panic as he half expected to see you dead. But we weren’t. Reaching the tail end of the maze, the soles of his boots could barely move as a mass of webs tried to keep him in place. 

Aiming the barrel of his shotgun, Leon quickly pointed the gun towards the cement flooring the second he saw you strung up in a series of strong spider silk. Equipping his knife, Leon slashed through the material and caught you as you were about to hit the floor. 

Tightly wrapping his arms around you, a giant wave of relief washed over Leon. 

“You alright?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s just get out of here.” You pleaded, as Leon carried you to the exit. 

re taglist ~ 

@dreamliners

@iraot

@beautifuljellyfishqueen

@balach-cadalach

@murrdxcks

@fetaneecole

@odaschopsticks

@macabrecakes

@tiredsurvivoronmain

@thecodeisveronica

@andyacklesspn

@kanzukikarin

@cloudybakery

@swimninhoney

@ashiemochi

@kennedysharper

@highball66

@jinlintai

@onewinged-sephiroth

@scariusaquarius

@momma-vi

@cilantro24

@thatdummy-girl

@acupnoodle

@slaughtrx

@rpd-rookie

@oreo-leon

@xxresi-rotxx

@ashrillvenheim

@knifefightandchill

@tradgothprompto

@lottathoughts

@brittlecakes92

@mnjxs

@rebidemp-ebil

@chirikalovesjill

@paleepeaches

@dargoww

@blueyheart

[indignantlemur]

Hey it’s been ages but I hope your feeling better :)

First of all, you're adorable! Second, thank you very much for the well-wishes! I am indeed almost all better (finally!) and looking forward to getting the full rotation of my wrist back at some point!

(Also, hilariously, a lot of people seem to think that the spider that invaded my desk was responsible for my injuries! It definitely wasn't, but the mental image of a tiny spider conspiring to throw me down the stairs in the dead of night is hilarious!) (In fact, another creature entirely was responsible, if in a very roundabout way! See, my fiancé got home very late that night, after driving a friend home after our weekly D&D game, and as he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine he heard something moving in the dark. We're rural, so it's quite dark at night, and we have a gravel driveway. There's a lot of wildlife in the area, and livestock occasionally escape from their pens and go for a wander. We also get deer and the odd elk through the area - but more importantly, we've had an adult black bear in the area that's not nearly as afraid of people as he rightly should be, and while black bears are just little guys as bears go, they can still do plenty of damage! So, Darling Fiancé calls me from the car and asks me to come downstairs and flip the lights on so he can get an idea of what's going on before he exits the car. I duly rush downstairs to do just that, and while I'm flicking the outside lights on, I have a thought: it could just be a daft deer, wandering around in the dark. If it is, and I fling the door open suddenly, that will scare it off! And if it actually is a bear, I can slam the door shut and call animal control while my fiancé stays nice and safe in the car. Brilliant! I immediately head to the garage and start down the little stairs, fully convinced that this is a splendid idea and Darling Fiancé will praise me for being so proactive and helpful! I don't make it to the bottom of the stairs. Or, rather, I do - but much, much faster than intended. I slip. I fall. I land - but I'm hyperflexible, so things move in ways nature never actually meant for them to do and I land badly. I scream, because that's what people do when bits of their extremities that don't normally touch suddenly get very well acquainted at high speeds. Darling Fiancé, who at that moment was in the process of looking for the source of the gravel noises, leaps into action and rushes to my aid! ...But not before watching a very fat raccoon scamper away, equally alarmed by the horrible noise coming from the garage. Later, at the hospital, a nurse asks me what happened. I'm embarrassed and in a lot of pain, so I hesitate a bit and then offer, very meekly, "...I fell down the stairs." Darling Fiancé, who has been wheeling me about in the world's most uncomfortable wheelchair and is therefore directly behind me during this conversation with the nurse, just puts his head in his hands and sighs.)

[yorshie]

The Technical Genius

Donnie's look is much the same as the one in the films, I ultimately decided why mess with something that isn't broke, and I just couldn't bring myself to cover up his arms or his chest, but wow this turtle is a string bean of a pole and you wanna know why he needs those suspenders? Because he is a SLUT those pants are so far down his hips it's not even funny my poor eyeballs were SCANDALIZED when I realized just how close to the bottom of his plastron that belt buckle is like, Dee, there is no need to murder people you're already lethal sweetie. Gave him a tamagotchi because how could I not, and slimmed down his tech gauntlet because I hope after ten years he'd be able to upgrade and, more importantly, I wouldn't have to draw the game controller over and over.

Donnie's pretty good at keeping out of the thick of things and he's got reach with that staff like nobody's business so, (admittedly this is a fucked up little whoopsie for him), his scar is a burn scar from a lab accident where he maybe got a bit too cocky for his own good and he's lucky he didn't lose his hand in the process. Maybe it was upgrading the Garbage Truck, maybe it was with some classified chemicals, all I know is it hurt like a bitch and toned down his mad scientist vibes a little bit. Now he has to run his major experiments by Splinter so his father knows what to watch out for and Raph made sure every single little nook and cranny in the garage and Lab has fire extinguishers because hearing your brother scream inside an inferno is *trauma*

Tattoo wise I gave him a new one on his shoulder, because I really like that little turtle design and I wanted them all to have it in some form, and I always kinda felt bad about Donnie being left out of the tattoo gang even though I know the generally accepted head canon that he was the one doing the tattooing. Flower wise, however (because don't worry I didn't leave Donnie out) he's got celosia on both his thighs, since it is a symbol for intellectualism, knowledge and creativity, and thighs because...well.... i am but a simple raccoon. The flowers come in a lot of different shapes so I'm still deciding between the traditional plume flower or the stake shaped, will see how it goes when I get to work on the tattoo maps more

[little-yandere-ish-blog]

Programming: Robot Canada x creator! reader

The finishing touches on your brand new program! You smiled excitedly you had made a companion to accompany your work. He would have your program but artificial intelligence to fix any issues of his system and upgrade himself. He would be constantly learning. Now you needed to implement the final personality programming! You smiled as you created Matthew Williams. Your personal robot, he looked so human it was freaky but he was perfect!

You turned on the final switch and unplugged him. You stepped back waiting eagerly. Was this it? Was this going to be the burden lifted off your shoulders and creating a brilliant mind similar to your own? You smiled as his purple eyes light up to life.

“Huh? Where am I?” He blinked looking at the garage analyzing everything. His eyes soon fixated on you. His system immediately recognized you from his programming you had implemented

“Oh (name)!” He immediately softened up, he greeted you like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years “ Its so good to see you, its nice to see you in your full form” He stepped towards you. 

“ Its good to see you too Matthew, I’m extremely happy to have you here, many many many months of work and here you are, this form of yours is extremely realistic! I programmed and put in so much in you!” You wanted to ramble about every detail of himself to him. 

Matthew smiled softly “ its okay, i’ve been conscious since you connected the motherboard to an energy source, you are so persistent with your works. Im so happy to have you be my companion.

Time skip~

Its been about 11 months since Matthew was launched up and everything was running extremely smoothly. He’s been a joy to have and absolute lovely to have in the lab. You thought maybe he needs another robotic companion! It must be hard to be alone when you have to work. So! You've been working on a gift for Matthew!

“Matthew can you please come into the garage?” you called out to the canadian male

Matthew took off his oven mitts “of course, is there anything you need? I can help until these cookies finish baking.” He looked up seeing another robot...it was like him extremely similar except....a cowlick and the bluest eyes you could ever imagine.

“Matthew, this is your technically older brother. I had his parts for much longer, he was an earlier prototype his name is Alfred” You smiled introducting them

“hey dude!” Alfred hugged Matthew “ its weird seeing you outside of the programming, you look fantastic!” 

Matthew froze up...why did (name) make him? Was she not satisfied with Matthew dedication and service?  Was she not happy with him? Maybe...maybe he needed to fully prove himself to be capable of handling all of their tasks...just (name) and Matthew not this fucking clown called his brother.

Alfred let go looking to (name) smiling, Matthew wanted to disassemble him right then and there. He wanted the fake blood running through Alfred’s false veins to spray all over the walls. He wanted to make (name) realize all they needed was him and only him. 

Matthew smiled “ well I’m so glad i have a companion and a brother to hang out with while you are at work” His analysis intelligence could recognize the emotions...how happy you were....seeing Alfred's signals sending romantic feelings to Alfred’s central processing ...no..no no no!!

Time skip a few weeks later, y/n POV

I was exhausted waking up to banging coming from the garage. Damn raccoon i’m sure, i went to the garage opened the door looking to see Alfred completely ripped apart and the fake blood spreading across the floor. I looked meeting Matthew's glowing purple eyes.

“oh..my god” Those were the only words I could muster from this horrific scene.

Matthew stood up “I didn’t want you to see this...he was a bad program” He looked to Alfred with disgust

“Matthew, what have you done?! You destroyed him! HES NOT EVEN ABLE TO BE BACKED UP!” I yelled, confused. The programming and those important central parts were destroyed 

“This is what you programmed me to do, to make sure we stay friends. to make sure you’re protected and safe. I don’t understand” He said quietly approaching me. My heart started pounding, oh god was he gonna kill me? I don’t remember programming this possessive behavior!

“I can see your temperature rising and your heart rate getting quicker, your stress levels are increasing dramatically” He said analyzing my entire body as he approached me 

“Yeah NO SHIT!” I snapped, scared and angry.

“ you made me like this, cant you see? or maybe my intelligence has surpassed you. I am god. I can create and destroy! Illness or age cannot effect me!! Not even water! NOTING!” He smiled...those purple eyes turning red.

Before I could get in a word he grabbed my face harshly “Can’t you see (y/n)? You need me...without me you’re nothing! You made me perfect for you. You made me with you’re own hands with love....It’s now me loving you back! I will love you back! I’ll I’ll fill you with my love” He said, his eyes flickered down there . My stomach churned “you...you have no idea what you’re talking about nor the parts or capacity to do such a thing” i said trying to correct him

He giggled innocently “ I made my own parts and figured out the correct protein and genetic combinations, with a constant supply of the foods i consume, my body can produce its own functional sperm, along with the proper male genitalia to stimulate and its fully fictional, I can fill you with my love and  so much more” He said proud of himself.

 I felt disgusted, the artificial intelligence was so much more horrific than i imagined, i never calculated he improve himself like this. I felt sick to my stomach. What have i created?

[allysr00m]

ABOUT ME!

My name's Alexis, I'm from the uk, I'm nonbinary (they/them pronouns), bisexual and autistic (I also suspect I have adhd, ocd and either bpd or cptsd, looking into getting diagnoses, inalso have anxiety and depression).

I have a childhood of emotional abuse and have been retraumatised several times, and have no contact with any of my living family cos they are too toxic (both my parents are dead).

I am an agsty sad girl/e.girl (I use those terms despite being nonbinary), and a singer/songwriter, my music is Alt-pop/Indie pop/electropop/dark pop/hyperpop with 90s and 2000s influences, (elements of diva' pop from the 90s and early 2000s, 90s R&B, 90s House, late 90s and early 2000s teen/bubblegum pop, disco, euroodance, UK garage, trance, trip hop, 90s alternative rock, show tunes, pop-Punk, emo and ofc modern hyperpop and dark pop) I also work with disables students.

I LOVE our flag means Death, Steven Universe, The Simpsons, Crazy Ex Girlfriend, Fleabag, Derry Girls and I'm also a theatre kid. My celebrity crushes are Taika Waititi (my favorite), Tom Ellis, Ramin Karimloo, Jeremy Brett, Rege-Jean Page, Chloe Sevigny, Paula Patton, Selena Gonez, Leona Lewis and Alicia Keys, and some others I might have missed, my favorite book is Rebecca by Daphne Du Murier and also love Jaqueline Wilson books.

My aesthetic is a combination of vintage 1920s flapper/art deco, 90s grunge and y2k, e.girl, lofi, vapourwave, nightcore, vintage film stars (esp Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn), emo, masquerade ball, and pastel goth.

I am a feminist, pro-choice, pro-blm, pro 🇵🇸, trans rights are human rights!

Oh and I love cats too, and dogs, bunnies, raccoons, and all cute fluffy animals!

Also PLEASE DONT FOLLOW ME OR INTERACT WITH ME IF YOU ARE A MINOR IF YOU FOLLOW ME AND I FIND PUT YOU ARE UNDER 18 I WILL BLOCK YOU.

[palfriendpatine66]

Wait wait wait. Trash panda (racoon) AU, please!! 🦝🦝

Slowly getting to some of my prompts! I’m not good at keeping these short but I am having a lot of fun! Thanks for sending them in y’all!

Trash Panda au

“ANAKIN!” Obi-Wan called frantically as he charged into the house. “Anakin!”

With a crash and the sound of a glass breaking and an impassioned “fucking shit!” Anakin came running out of the kitchen as though it was on fire.

“What?!” He looked over the breathless older man with wild eyes, half expecting to see him covered in blood or missing a limb, not merely holding his chest with one hand and still clutching the garbage bag he’d gone outside to throw out with the other. “What happened?”

“There’s something in the garbage can! An animal!”

“Oh,” Anakin laughed. “Was it Bernard?”

The stony silence from Obi-Wan spoke volumes. “Who. Is. Bernard,” he forced out staccato and controlled as if exerting every ounce of his patience.

“The raccoon? He’s been coming around.” Anakin shrugged and grabbed a broom to head back to the kitchen. “I dropped my best coffee mug - the red one that fits the perfect amount of creamer, you know the one. I thought there was an emergency.”

“There is!” Obi-Wan insisted, gesturing wildly toward the front door.

“Bernard is not an emergency,” Anakin laughed and began sweeping up the shards of his favorite cup. “But nearly slicing my feet open on this would have been. Honestly, you always say I’m the dramatic one.”

“You’ve known about this for how long? And done what? Nothing?”

“Like a couple weeks? I don’t know. And not nothing! I’ve looked for the babies.”

“The babies?!” Obi-Wan’s voice had reached new heights in his state of disbelief.

“Yeah I think. Bernadette hasn’t been around. I think she has a nest.”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan was exasperated.

“Obi-Wan.” Anakin rolled his eyes.

“I love you.”

“Mhmm. What’s the but? I hear a but coming.”

“But they are wild animals! They don’t belong in trash cans! They could be dangerous!”

Anakin straightened up and scoffed dismissively. “Dangerous? You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you see him? His cute little hands!? You are overreacting. Bernard is adorable.”

“He could be diseased! He could have rabies! What if he bit me because I threw this trash bag at his head, which I almost did, not expecting to be confronted with wildlife in my trash can!?”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin moved forward and took the trash bag away from his tightly clenched fist. “Since when are you afraid of animals? You love wildlife! Nature walks. National Geographic. All of that”

“Since there’s a bloody trash panda eating my rotten food and, and my rubbish! It’s unsanitary!”

“Alright,” Anakin sighed heavily. “You could have just said you needed me to protect you,” he smirked and met Obi-Wan’s tightly pursed lips. “I’ll always come to your rescue.” Kiss. “Save you.” Kiss. “Take care of you.” Kiss.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan pushed him lightly to the door. “Enough of that. Just go take care of it already.”

“I am your valiant knight in shining armor, here to save you from the perils of local wildlife.” Anakin swept forward in a mocking bow.

“Will you just do it?”

Obi-Wan moved to watch from the window as Anakin carried the trash bag down the front path to the garbage can beside the garage. He slowly and carefully tipped the can to the ground so the trapped raccoon would be able to scamper out when he lifted the lid. He slowly slid the cover open - Obi-Wan couldn’t hear him but could only imagine the way he was cooing to the animal inside - when a gray blur shot out of the trash can.

Anakin leaped back with a screech and wildly threw the garbage bag away from him, as Bernard emerged hissing and spitting and violently angry at his temporary imprisonment in the garbage can.

Obi-Wan didn’t know whether to laugh or be terrified as Anakin tripped over his stocking feet and scrambled to the front door. He settled for both as he darted to the front door, threw it open to let Anakin in, and slammed it shut behind him.

They stood there staring at each other silently, just catching their breath, for a long moment. “Don’t,” Anakin finally ordered. “Don’t. I do not want to hear it.”

“Hear what?” Obi-Wan asked with faux innocence. “Maybe Bernard was gathering extra food for the babies. Maybe next week on trash day the whole family will be staying at their little bed and breakfast. Wouldn’t that just be adorable?”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin growled.

“Did you see his little hands as he charged at you?”

“Shut. Up.” Anakin turned to peek out the window as though expecting an attack. “Just. Shut up and call animal control.”

“I think I will let you handle that, my brave knight.” Obi-Wan kissed his cheek and dodged an elbow to his side. “It’s your duty to protect me, after all.”