Such Amazing Character Development Here.

Such amazing character development here.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip.✮part five. montana.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next [est june 18] | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 5/7 | word count: 1975.

what makes a person a monster?

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

Wanda hadn’t felt much like talking since they’d left the bar. She can’t possibly describe the lurch in her lungs when she’d woken alone in the room, and found Rocket—

gone.

She peels it apart when they get in the car: silent, lost in her thoughts. Rocket doesn’t turn on his music right away, and when she casts a sideways glance at him, he looks vaguely uncomfortable: shifting in his seat, clenching and unclenching his fists. He looks like he wants to be taking something apart, inventing something new — anything to take his mind off whatever’s eating him inside.

After the scene in the bar, when the bartender had poured Rocket’s drink so shakily that the mouth of the bottle had clanked against the glass tumbler, Wanda had sat beside her companion quietly. The bartender had wisely left the bottle behind, and then had gotten to work with the rest of the wide-eyed, ashen hotel staff to clean up the glass that had been broken in the altercation. She’d watched her furry colleague bemusedly as he sulked over his liquor, and had tried to tell herself that she had only been concerned because Rocket had been missing, and she’d known that someone walking around looking like a sentient raccoon could only get in trouble, no matter how well-intentioned and well-behaved he’d been attempting to be.

She had tried to tell herself it was just concern for a missing hero in a cruel world.

But her reaction had been too visceral to keep herself convinced. As she’d unfolded the truth of herself, wincing, she’d had to acknowledge that the way fear had suddenly ripped through her belly had been all too similar to the ache she’d felt when she’d lost Pietro: screaming hollowly at the root of her lungs, at the vagus nerve laced against her heart. A shrieking void in the center of a fiery cyclone. It had been an agony of terror: to think her new, small, sarcastic friend had been taken from her like everyone else.

When she’d seen him — safe, but on the verge of becoming a victim of his own temper — she’d wrapped her power around him as carefully as she knew how. And when she’d realized what was happening, her own temper had surged: some strange combination of fire and ice.

She’s so tired of people being treated as less-than, of lives being overlooked.

Especially the lives she loves.

Rocket still doesn’t speak. They make their way through a number of national forests before he even hesitantly reaches out to fuss with the music again. She says nothing as something mellow spills from the speakers, but she can feel her shoulders ease. It takes another hour before his feet are kicking again, and he’s humming something low and husking along with the lyrics.

“Uh, hey,” he says at last, his voice rasping as the sun begins to cast a melting-gold crust over the edge of the trees ahead of them, light hitting the western crest of the world and sprawling upward in sprays of topaz and rose and aquamarine. “Thanks for — I dunno. Sorry for fucking up at the last place. And thanks for, uh, stepping in.” He shifts next to her, one shoulder hitching uncomfortably. She watches from her periphery as his lip curls in a clenched-jaw grimace, like he’s tasted something sour.

She weighs that quietly.

“I was as angry as you were, once I understood what was happening,” she admits.

The wince lingering in the corner of his mouth and eyelids softens. “Saw that,” he acknowledges after a long minute, spooled with the crooning tones of whomever’s singing from the zune now. “Don’t know — I think only Nebs has ever, uh. Stuck up for me like that.” His voice sounds parched and cracked and starved, like he’s not certain what he’s trying to say. Like maybe the words feel disloyal, somehow, to his absent friends. Something answering cracks open in her ribs. She knows he loved the rest of the Guardians — Pete, he’d mentioned, referring to the owner of the zune. Gamora, whom Wanda has gathered had been sacrificed to Thanos’ goals, just like Vis. But it hurts her to think that Rocket’s little adopted family wouldn’t have been just as offended on his behalf as she had been. Or maybe they would have been, and he just doesn’t realize it. Either way, it hurts. It hurts to think that he believes no-one would have been moved to intercede, to demand respect on his behalf, or to offer comfort.

Pietro would have devastated anyone whom he’d perceived as treating her as inferior. And in his own gentle, wise way, Vis would have fought for her as well.

At least he has Nebula, now, she thinks, and a space inside her loosens. She hasn’t spoken with the awkward blue cyborg — not anymore than she’s spoken to anyone else on the team, preferring to stay off to the side, needing to observe. But knowing that Rocket feels like “Nebs” would step in for him allows some of the tension in her neck and shoulders to ease.

“You — you got a lot of power,” Rocket says tentatively. “As much as Danvers, maybe.”

She feels herself go watchful and wary again. The silence is heavy in the little car, even smothering the faint music trailing from the speakers.

“Or more,” she admits at last, quietly.

He acknowledges her addition with a mild grunt and a nod.

“Ya know, the Guardians of the Galaxy numbers are lookin’ pretty slim these days,” he says musingly. “F’you ever wanna get off this planet. Could find a spot for you, prob’ly.” He slants her a taunting grin. “Pretty sure we’re more fun than the Avengers. Less stuffy and judgy, too.”

She can’t help the delicate snort that scrapes up the back of her throat, edged with laughter. And here she’d been worried that he was scared of her. Instead, twice in two days, now, he’s made her laugh.

Regular laughter seems like such a distant memory. It is a distant memory, and a frail one. She’d had it before the Stark industries mortar shell, and then again in her time with Vis — but certainly not since.

Other than that first time she’d seen him bickering with Nebula on the compound lawn.

“Not that every part of this planet sucks,” Rocket admits grudgingly from beside her. The last flickers of sun-gold ricochet off the distant line of tree and mountain, settling into a rosy-lavender and hydrangea-blue. “This section’s kinda nice, if you’re into that sort of thing. Reminds me of specifical parts a’ Berhert or Foresteria.”

She considers the Montana terrain. “Are you into that sort of thing?”

He smirks. “Not enough places to get into trouble for me,” he says with a sideways toss of his head. “No gambling. Or booze.” He pauses to waggle his brows at her, so exaggerated that she can see the gesture even in her periphery. “Or tail.”

This time, when she laughs, it hasn’t crawled up her spine: it’s as bright as it had been the other day, so merry in the air that it’s utterly foreign to her ears.

“You are ridiculous,” she tells him, but he only gifts her a shit-eating grin.

“What about you?” he asks. “You ever think about runnin’ away from Terra? Come hang out with the cool kids in the stars?”

She snorts again and glances sideways at him in the melting velvet shadows. How does the space inside Natasha’s car, with its ruined dashboard and sound system, feel so much easier than anywhere she’s ever been in the past five years? How does it feel so much easier than anywhere she’s ever been at all, unless it was with Vis?

“Not exactly,” she says quietly.

“Not exactly?”

She hesitates and chews the inside of her lip at the corner of her mouth.

“I think about making a place for myself,” she admits after a handful of quiet breaths. The song on the zune blurs into something new. “A place where… where things are the way they’re supposed to be.”

The quiet expands. Doubles.

“Whaddaya mean?” her companion asks at last. There’s tension in his voice, but it’s surprisingly quiet. As soft as she imagines his fur.

She hesitates. “I could — I think I could do it. Make a place — like in the old TV shows. Somewhere perfect, where people can be happy. Where I can be happy.”

The silence drawls through the music, and she can feel Rocket’s anxiety. She’d been silly to think he might be scared of her before, because now she can feel it — crackling and tense. But… it’s also careful. Testing. Cautious. She knows if she’d said something like this to any one of the Avengers, they’d probably try to lock her up immediately. They don’t understand her magic, and they don’t understand her. And they certainly don’t understand her pain.

After all, they’ve always been able to look away.

And while she can tell that Rocket doesn’t like what she’s shared — the dangerous little truth she’s laid out between their armrests — somehow, she doesn’t feel judged.

“I get that,” he says at last, his voice grudging and slow. “Wanting that. Me myself, I never had the — I never had the power to sort of… reshape the galaxy into what I wanted.” He pauses, and she can feel him gathering his thoughts in the dusk like the fireflies that used to litter the Sokovian summer grasses. When he speaks again, his voice has grown as dark as the world outside their car: grim and solemn and hard. “But I definitely been one a’ the poor morons who got caught up in someone else’s idea of perfect, and I can promise — you try to tie other people up like that, and you’re only gonna become somebody’s nightmare.”

She takes her eyes off the road, even though she shouldn’t — not here, in the dusk and the trees and the mountains. Her eyes find his in the shadows: glowing red to glowing red. She flicks her gaze over him: the broad shoulders that should be sloped inward, the opposable thumbs where there should only be dexterous fingers, the hard-packed muscle where she would expect a soft layer of fat. She’d decided that maybe he was an alien — and perhaps that’s true — but now she realizes there’s more to it than just that.

Someone’s shaped him into this.

Who was your nightmare? she thinks, and remembers Ultron again. Trying to reshape the world. It’s not the first time in the last five years that her fantasies of recreating a small slice of the world have given her pause — but it is the first time that the uneasiness has outweighed the solace.

Then she thinks of the labs. Of Hydra, yes — and the other one. The one she still isn’t sure if she remembered or dreamed up.

Rocket clears his throat, as if he knows she’s wondering what happened to make him the way he is.

“Take that asshole Thanos,” he mutters at last, and there’s a darkness to his tone that matches her own midnight vortex of thoughts when it comes to the Mad Titan. “So frickin’ committed to what he thought would make the universe better, that he killed half of it and broke everybody else.” Her companion scowls and mutters something in a language she doesn’t understand, but it doesn’t matter, because his words have already opened up a pit in her belly: pinching and frightened.

“I wouldn’t be killing anyone,” she says, and she’s surprised by the stubbornness in her voice. It makes her flinch, and that cramp in her belly tightens apprehensively — but she goes on anyway. Trying to convince herself, she realizes, even as she speaks. “I’d give them perfect lives. I’d make them be happy.”

He lifts his head and even though her eyes are back on the road, she feels his heavy, quiet, steady stare.

“Can’t make anybody be anything, witch.” He clears his throat, and his eyes release her. “Not without making yourself a frickin’ monster.”

sometimes i fuck around with comics-canon and throw it into my mcu fanfics so uh be ready for that with the next chapter. we're gettin weird

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next [est june 18] | main masterlist

More Posts from Hibatasblog and Others

hibatasblog

9 months ago

Oh my God! I love this so so much! The forced cuddles, the scrappy Rocket trying to escape the forced cuddles, the curly hair! I adore every single bit of it! Thank you thank you thank you!

petra & rocket scribble

rocket fanart masterlist | rfh art masterlist current art queue | main masterlist

a lil birthday scribble for @hibatasblog ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ who is arguably one of the sweetest humies in the galaxy, like a lil buttery bite of powdered-sugar cinnamon french toast. i am so grateful that you’ve survived this planet for so long and that i have been lucky enough to stumble across you and your friendship and your amazing writing. may the coming year bring you delicious food and drinks, beautiful art, good health, and countless moments of happiness. and puppy-snuggles. and excellent raccoon porn.

the universe is better for having you in it.

petra quill is @hibatasblog’s amazing and much-more-personable version of star-lord and you should read every one of the fics that features them. also yes my 03 gray marker died so rocket’s a little darker than usual but i did my best!

rocket fanart masterlist | rfh art masterlist current art queue | main masterlist

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hibatasblog

11 months ago

Or have him fuck the shit out of me… I’m not picky.

hibatasblog - Jolie’s Portrait of Rocket

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hibatasblog

6 months ago

Truer scenario never existed.

Rocket: How many times do I have to apologize?

Quill: Once would be nice!

Rocket: Hmm… no.

215 notes View Post

hibatasblog

4 months ago

˚₊‧✶ headcanons & imagines ✶‧₊˚

smut-free | complete | word count: varies. banners by @thecutestgrotto and @saradika-graphics

various guardians of the galaxy headcanons, minifics, drabbles, asks, imagines, and fan art! most are sfw and/or fluffy, and most can be read platonically or romantically. any that are nsfw are notes as such. back to main masterlist.

✶ ask | ‧₊˚ minific

general headcanons ✶‧₊˚

˚₊‧✶ how rocket views sex work (positivitely) [NSFW] - VERY short. just few words. ˚₊‧✶ rocket & occasional post-sex feelings [NSFW] - VERY short. just few words. ˚₊‧✶ quill & innocence/optimism - getting lengthier. kind of an imagine/drabble. ˚₊‧✶ rocket & nebula (2014) in endgame ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & quill were scooped together ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ cinnamon roll peter quill continued ˚₊‧✶ rocket, lylla, & drax; comfort post-xandar ‧₊˚ [related: drax & lylla symmetry] ˚₊‧✶ rocket's dad-glasses ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket's lifespan ✶ ˚₊‧✶ how the bowie got its name (threaded convo with @mrwolfhare) [minific] ˚₊‧✶ how mantis names the abilisks ✶ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ mantis' friendship with rocket [threaded with headcanon 12] ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ mantis & drax & what parenthood means ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ why did thanos snap half of ALL life? (convo with @mrwolfhare) ˚₊‧✶ rocket is smarter than stark ✶ ˚₊‧✶ the bowie's construction/smarter than stark pt 2 (convo with @leresq) ˚₊‧✶ rocket's movie & television tastes (see follow-up ask, what if rocket finds the mcu movies?) ˚₊‧✶ raccoon sensory perception [ANGST] ˚₊‧✶ a new addition to rocket's library of mocking endearments ˚₊‧✶ eidos-rocket's goatee ✶ ˚₊‧✶ eidos-rocket headcanons with an SO (for nonnie) [SFW & NSFW] ✶ ˚₊‧✶ rocket's tail in the nanosuit ✶˚₊‧✶ rocket's use of medpacks ✶˚₊‧✶ not really a heacanon but some of the reasons people resonate with rocket ✶˚₊‧✶ universal translators (how they work, etc) (threaded convo) ˚₊‧✶ universe killer rocket (threaded convo) ˚₊‧✶ rocket solo movie/how he met groot (@chl03ph0b1a). ✶‧₊˚

imagines ✶‧₊˚

˚₊‧✶ rocket needs comfort food (creamy chicken fajita pasta nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket reacts to string cheese (string cheese nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket steals your espresso beans (string cheese nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket puts on weight 1 (nonnie) [fuck fatophobia] ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket puts on weight 2 (nonnie) [fuck fatphobia] ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket on birthdays (@lilfoxay) ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & coloring (string cheese nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & origami ( @wren-phoenix) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & lava lamps ( @chippybritt & @thirteens-lucky-tardis) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ bedtime rituals of rocket raccoon pt 1 [THREAD] ˚₊‧✶ rocket responds to you having an anxiety attack (hickey-nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & sudoku, crosswords & word-searches ( @hyperjorts) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & hanayama puzzles (nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket sings (nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ what if rocket finds the mcu movies? ( @mcsquared789) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ music and rocket & adam, pete & jason ( @leresq) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket goes on a road trip with wanda (for @hibatasblog) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ petting rocket till he purrs (wholesome nonnie & @whitedragoncoranth) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket "fixes" your car (@urbanfox197) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ ᯓ⋆｡°✩practice: an eidos-rocket minific [for nonnie] ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket enjoying pop culture [for nonnie] ✶‧₊˚˚₊‧✶ rocket loves drag [for nonnie] ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket gets a team-up film (@leresq) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket solo movie/how he met groot (@chl03ph0b1a). ✶‧₊˚

fanart ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & nova corps pt 1 ˚₊‧✶ rocket & nova corps part 2 (with what if? nebula) ˚₊‧✶ rocket & being a decent fuckin person ˚₊‧✶ chonky winter-fur rocket on fron (it fucken wimdy) ˚₊‧✶ rocket stuck in deep snow (string cheese nonnie) ✶ ˚₊‧✶ rocket needs/hates his anxiety jacket ˚₊‧✶ rocket & his pjs (bedtime rituals of rocket pt 2) *may be a bit spicy/nsfw? ˚₊‧✶ bathtime rituals of rocket raccoon (@mrwolfhare) ˚₊‧✶ rocket & origami (from the above imagine) ~ (@wren-phoenix) ˚₊‧✶ you give rocket an otter stuffie ‧₊˚

see more rocket raccoon fan art by me ✶‧₊˚

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hibatasblog

1 year ago

Ahhhh!!!! Too of the head kisses are so perfect! Look at the tail wag and closed pleased eyes. They are so happy and cute. I’m so in love with this. Your art is so, so good.

Entanglement

archiveofourown.org

Entanglement - Chapter 7 - hibata - Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

This chapter had so many cute scenes. Little Rocket is entering bratty boy mode, but still butters up for Petra. For @hibatasblog! One of the sweetest people ever! This was very relaxing to draw.

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hibatasblog

10 months ago

To all my rainbow 🌈 pals. Be gay and do crimes.

Happy pride month to my favs ever

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hibatasblog

2 weeks ago

We all know Peter is the pet in that relationship.

peter was never seen alive again after this

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hibatasblog

1 month ago

Just perfectly painful and lovely in all the best ways. Achingly vulnerable Rocket is my jam. Read and comment on every chapter of this gorgeous story.

cicatrix.⋆☁︎:･꧂

chapter twenty-eight. la momophobia. [NEW 3/19] ✩

bathtime confessions.

“Close your eyes,” he rasps, and she does. He leans over the lip of the tub and presses the warm, damp fabric to her forehead, carefully avoiding the wounds that Drax has already cleaned and dressed — dabbing cautiously at the shallow scratches that he hadn’t. Pearl doesn’t flinch or hiss or even gasp: just lets herself go soft and easy under his touch, so absolutely trusting that it wrenches his heart all over again. He gently mops the smears of blood left behind, and the creases and tear-tracks in the dust on her cheeks, all crisp and crystallized with salt. “Rocket—"

“Just—“ he interrupts, and the word is thick and heavy in his mouth. “Just shut up and lemme do this, okay?” But there’s no venom in his voice, no razor-sharp slice. He almost doesn’t even recognize it as his own. He cleans every soft plane and hollow in her face: tracing each bone and curve, drawing constellations in her freckles with the cloth. Adrestia. Auxesia. Penthus. Arete. Astraea. Dicé. His right hand follows his left: memorizing her hairline, lingering mournfully at the edges of her minor cuts and scrapes. Archiving each little wound into his sensory memory, like a prayer or a punishment. As his palms grow wet, the feeling of her intensifies under his hands. By the time he’s washing the dust off her eyelids, he swears he can identify each and every soft eyelash feathering under his thumb. He cleans the hollows behind the hinge of her jaw, the soft vulnerability under her chin. When he moves down the throat he’d almost crushed that first night on the Arete, his eyes burn. You’re not a monster, she’d whispered up to him that night, with her ribs bruising between the brutal grip of his knees. You never have been.

read more on ao3 | cicatrix masterlist & notes see warnings and art below. this chapter is full of angst so double-check the warnings please!

a story about scars. two survivors learn about themselves, each other, hope, and the universe. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs.

WARNINGS for this chapter: infinite angst (& comfort). woundcare. discussion of animal surgery, and medical & (i would argue) psychological torture. lots of non-smutty naked/partially-clothed intimacy and the occasional dirty thought (because rocket). regret, self-recrimination, and self-loathing.

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬ masterlist, notes, & moodboard | navigation

banners & rose dividers by @/saradika-graphics | pearl dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

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hibatasblog

8 months ago

I adore this. I can totally see Rocket rocking some kid-sized sneaker skates… 🚀 🦝 👟

Rocket: Hey! Tall people! If we're walkin' together, please take into consideration my tiny legs! I can't keep up with you! Please think of my tiny legs — I don't wanna be joggin' to keep up with your leisurely stroll, you FUCKING TITANS!

Peter: Just get a pair of roller skates and hang onto my sleeve! We don't have all day.

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hibatasblog

1 year ago

And I am emotionally wrecked… these babies got me in the feels.

cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂

chapter seven. starlorn. [new 4/22] ✩

pearl pleads her case. see below for warnings & notes.

He expects a soft little laugh. He thinks, even a few hours ago, he would’ve gotten one. Instead, she leans forward, her fingers curling over her bare toes, her knees pinned between her chest and the starpane. And her eyes — her eyes are suddenly big and glossy and wet, gemstone-tears suddenly balanced on her lower lashes. It feels like someone’s broken through all his ribs, gripping his heart in a vibranium fist. “Don’t make me stay on Cyxlore,” she says softly. “I won’t try to make you take me if you — if you really don’t want to. But I’d rather be here. With you.” A soft inhale. “Please.” His stomach drops out. You ready to beg yet? he suddenly remembers asking her on the rain-slick floor of her Arete cage. Well. Here she is, begging, and he’ll be an ass if he ignores it. And an ass if he accepts it. The line of her nose and cheeks gleam with starlight. The blanket around her shoulders shifts down, pinned between her back and the cold metal wall, and the soft curves of her breasts press against her thighs. The Monster can see the shape of them, rounded and squished at her sides through the sleeveless armholes and under the edge of his too-small Sneepers shirt. She’s so far away, and he can see her dying all over again. Lylla on the floor of the Arete; Madame Lavenza in the rainy courtyard of HalfWorld. Haunting and haunted, cold as ghosts and skeleton-bones and lifeless stars, as distant and unreachable as the edge of the universe. Come back to me, pretty pearl. He swallows.

read more on ao3 | masterlist, notes, & moodboard

okay, we're reaching the next phase. an agreement has more-or-less been established. hang on with me till chapter eleven or so and we'll start moving into real plot i promise??? (okay don't hold me to that)

WARNINGS for chapter seven: self-injury (biting), continued references to grooming and confinement. rocket’s explicit running commentary and the faintest whisper of d/s vibes. brief mention of bondage.