Oh, My Heart. 💔Let’s All Go And Save All The Baby Rocket’s In The Multiverse. That’s My New

My heart is exploding with rainbows and happiness. This is the cutest, most adorable, perfect depiction of this scene. Your art is so damn good. Those expressions!

Rocket let Petra right himself and he took another savoring bite. Petra snuck in a bite or two, but left the majority of the pie to her friend. He kept making happy noises, and he was in ecstasies of delight as he continued to eat. As he scraped up the last bit he could with the utensil, he let his claws skitter around the edge of the dish and turned to look at Petra over his shoulder.

“Is it weird if I lick the plate too?” he asked hunching as if waiting for the rattan cane of his Sire.

Instead of answering, Petra laughed, leaned around him, and licked a line along the edge of the dish. That was all the permission he needed before greedily collecting every last bit of pie with his tongue. -Chapter 5, Entanglement by @hibatasblog. ———

I finally did it!! Now I can read the next chapter as a prize to myself. I hope you like it! The story is so detailed and amazing. I just eat it up. For some reason I kept thinking of a blueberry crumple pie for this. https://archiveofourown.org/works/48617005/chapters/130958833

Definitely use more gun, Rocket.

Rocket: Hey look buddy, I'm an engineer. That means I solve problems, not problems like "What is beauty?" Because that would fall within the purview of your conundrums of philosophy. I solve practical problems, for instance: "how am I going to stop some big mean mother flarker from tearing me a structurally superfluous new asshole?" The answer? ...Use a gun, and if that doesn't work...

Rocket: Use more gun.

Holy shit guys, she back!

la gaudière.⋆☁︎:･꧂ preview

[anticipated 2/27] ✩

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 26/40+ | wip | wordcount: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard | navigation ART: pearl’s character design | pearl & rocket’s bunk | heartspur scene | chapter one. nemotia. art by @/frostedwitch| rocket & pearl snuggle | adorable pearl x rocket selfie by @/starriidreams | sexy, evocative waterlily pearl x rocket painting by @/hibatasblog ♡

bby i'm back!

so excited to be posting for cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂again. a little more slowly, but still. ugh i missed these babies. thanks for your patience!! ♡♡

someone steals from the collector. warnings below.

Rocket would’ve liked to think that when his life finally flashed before his eyes, it would’ve been a too-brief catalogue of the good moments: playing tag with L06 and A95, laughing from the vents with the Captain on the Eclector, the first hug he’d ever gotten — from Lylla — and all the uncountable, ineffably sweet moments he’d had with pearl over the past few cycles. 

Not that he would have minded another glimpse of her glorious tits, of course, or the way she’d looked when she’d come on his dick — but somehow, even those moments aren’t his favorites with her. Teaching her how to shoot, though — telling her stories in the runabout, or staying curled up with her under the flight controls — those were the real golden moments. Watching her stand up to the Sovereign, or tell him he was being a jerk, or scamper around with all that joy when she’d seen the abilisks.  Hell, watching her stand tall on that gambling table with a feral f’saki in her arms, surveying the havoc she’d just created like some avenging, drunken, pouty blue-haired goddess — if he could see that one more time before he died, he wouldn’t even care if there was an afterlife, good or bad. Instead, what happens when Rocket finds himself catapulted halfway down the street is that he’s struck by all the times he’s been an absolute ass, accidentally or on purpose. He’d known she’d misunderstood when he’d said he regretted things between them, but he hadn’t bothered to set it right. And he’d known she would misinterpret his reasons for going to the Brass Camellia, but he’d frickin’ said it anyway. He was finally gonna die — something he’d both run from and wanted since the moment he’d watched his brother and sister burn — and pearl was gonna think — pearl was gonna think— I just need to think, and I can’t with you looking at me like I’m some kind of monster.  He isn’t ever gonna get to take her to see a damn Acanti migration.

His body bounces — it’s a miracle it doesn’t hurt more, with all that metal weighing him down — and he sits up slowly, trying to shake the calcium-dust from the fur of his ringing ears. There’s a slice on the side of his nose, he thinks. His ribs ache but his breath doesn’t rattle, and he should take a second to inventory his body — make sure he’s got his fingers and toes, that he hasn’t broken his tail, figure out where the singed-fur-smell is coming from — but as soon as he realizes he’s frickin’ alive, he hits all fours and sprints toward the husk of the museum.  Start there, he thinks. Start close to ground zero and work your way out. Find pearl. Drax if you can.  Then get starside before shit hits the fan. Rocket has been through enough prison breaks to know that nothing generates rebellion like seeing the center of power demolished, and he suspects a mining colony full of forced laborers won’t be much different. Either the Collector’ll crack down or some other power will step into the void, and Rocket doesn’t want himself or his pearl on the ground when it happens.  His eyes search for the lilac-blue banner of her hair like it’s a song he’s trying to remember. Everything is dim and burnt and broken and maybe he wouldn’t be able to make out the vibrancy of her curls through the dust and dark and shadows anyway, but he tries. He takes in a chestful of air through his nose, hunting for waterlilies and something clean on the air — only to immediately double over when the insides of his lungs are painted with bone-dust and cinders. Something inside him pinches and aches.  “Pearl!” he tries to yell, caution and anonymity forgotten, but his voice cracks and withers in the haze of grime.  What if she’s dead? What if she’s gone like Lylla, like 06 and 95?  And you never fuckin’ made it right? He swallows and breathes deep and tries again, calling up the lowest, most carrying voice he can from the carved-out hollow of his ribs.  “Kitten!”

from chapter twenty-seven. la gaudière. ✩ ‬ cicatrix masterlist.⋆☁︎:･꧂ navigation | fiction masterlist

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: headwounds and near-death experiences. regret and angst. woundcare. some comfort. this chapter uses descriptive imagery that may be reminiscent of residential and urban environments impacted by bombings, warfare, or natural disasters like earthquakes.

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

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

This comic I’ve recently discovered is so, so Rocket and Jack coded.

It delights me to know that my art made you happy! I wish I had more free time to make art for your wonderful stories. You have been so great, and the greatest present is being your friend.

Happiest birthday to raccoonfallsharder! You are the best, and you deserve the moon and stars! In addition to being an amazing storyteller, they are a wonderful, kind, loving friend. I’ve benefited so much from knowing them. In honor of their special day is a gouache on fabric painting from their incredible story “Cicatrix.”

Fuck yeah Dino bird.

Cute Rockstar.

Hay Amor (There’s Love)

I lost some art due to some carpet flooding. So I hope to repost what I can on here.

By @bbasmos!! I adore this story so much! It throws everything at you that you could want. Sadly, I don’t have all the art that I made for this fic anymore, but I’ll attempt to salvage what I can. It wakes a google translate but it’s so good that not even google can deter it!

Mantis: Do you have a self-care routine?

Quill: “Keep going bitch” said to myself in different accents.

Madame, that raccoon is a wicked, wicked tease.

Candied Apples 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ anticipated july 19 ❤︎❤︎

the THIRD & FINAL part of ⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall | main masterlist COMING THIS FRIDAY. FINALLY.

18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 2/3 parts | wip | word count: pending. thievery in the garden.

You shiver again. You just want his hands back, even just the forefingers that had lingered on your shoulders — something, anything. You gnaw at your lip. “C-Captain?” you say meekly. “Rocket?” “Yeah, angel?” You can’t feel his touch, but you can tell he’s toying with the bow. The featherlight weight of it shifts against your spine; the ribbon whispers against your skin.  “Touch me?” you beg softly. “Please?” “Gonna,” he husks. “But sweetheart, I told you I was a real jackass. Greedy. Mean as shit. Told you I was awful.” You hear him inhale: so slow and steady and measured that you think it must be in an effort to keep his own control. “I’ll be rough with you later like you asked for, angel — but this first time, I’m gonna be mean. I’m gonna be so frickin’ lightfingered that you’re gonna feel like you aren’t being touched at all.” Your flesh heats and you find yourself shivering again at the same time: hot and cold, fevers and chills. Slowly — slowly — he pulls on one of the tails of the bow, and you can feel the tension of the knot at your back, being pulled taut. The slight tug is echoed in the tangle of nerves in your belly, tied somewhere right around your cervix: tightening, tensing. Then the knot holding together the back of your dress melts into something slack and loose. Maybe it would be nice if the knot in your abdomen did that too — but, perversely, it only winds tighter. Another whimper rises high in the back of your mouth and bubbles out, soft and pleading. He chuckles at the sound — and abandons the bow.  Just — drops the threadbare ribbon to stroll another circle around you, eyes licking hungrily over your loosened straps, the disheveled dip in your neckline, the way your knees peek out from the rumpled ruffle of your skirt and press into the cushion on the floor. The way your fingers curl desperately into the worn fabric.

there is another preview of this chapter.... the THIRD & FINAL part of ⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall is COMING THIS FRIDAY. FINALLY.

wind·fall /ˈwin(d)ˌfôl/ noun. an apple or other fruit blown down from a tree or bush by the wind; an unexpected piece of good fortune.

semi-shy touch-deprived reader tries to avoid meeting knowhere’s intimidating captain. is profoundly unsuccessful.

based on a prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting: The apartment she moved to has a beautiful, well-tended garden. After a while she finds out that her neighbor is the one tending to the plants and she decides to help him out one day.

⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall masterlist | main masterlist flower dividers & banners by @/saradika-graphics

Would you like, raccoon pics (rhetorical question i will now bombard you with them)

:)

howdy! thank you for your submission :3

such beautiful works of art… raccoons are truly THE creatures of all time