Soooo Good Guys. I Died While Reading This.

Agreed 100%

I live in a country, where straight-up Nazi’s, with torches, marched on a campus founded by Thomas Jefferson, shouting Nazi slogans, wearing MAGA hats, saying “Heil Trump,” and attacked counter-protestors last night/this morning.

So for the record: Fuck white-supremacists. Fuck Nazi’s. Fuck the current administration that emboldens their actions. Fuck the people that voted for them. Black lives matter. Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals, Transexuals, Asexuals, Nonbinaries, and everything in-between have the right to exist in public spaces. Women have the right to abortions. ISIS is NOT representative of Islam. We need single-payer healthcare in this country. Minimum wage needs to be AT LEAST $15 an hour.

And if you have a problem with any of that? Unfollow my ass.

[Peter boards the Ravager ship and notices Yondu glaring at him]

Peter: What did I do?

Yondu: You don’t even say “hi” to your captain?

Peter: Hi. What did I do?

Pretty art work!

j'me + rocket

navigation | let me love your OCs masterlist doodle queue | rocket art | my OCs

rocket and @caesarhamato22's j'me looking at a starmap. are they picking where they're going for their next mission? next heist? next vacation? i don't know but i am here for it. i love j'me, and it is always a blessing to draw something for jay, who is an elder god in the rocket fandom and has written some of my favorite comfort one-shots ever.

(here's my first j'me drawing)

i've had a hard time drawing lately ~ i haven't touched my tablet since my father's accident i don't think. a combination of life + work craziness. but i am slowly getting back to the doodle queue. honestly, it's good for me to give my brain a break from stress + writing. i'm hoping to be able to post one picture a month. and right now, i'm really grateful to jay for bringing me back to artistic expression with this image because it just warmed my heart to imagine & to draw. (i would also like to go on a mission/heist/holiday with rocket)

anyway ~ enjoy, and go read some of @caesarhamato22's amazing fanfiction!

navigation | let me love your OCs masterlist doodle queue | rocket art | my OCs

Ya’ll… read this filthy perfect fucking fic. ⚡️⚡️⚡️🎆🎇🎆🎇 I give this a 5/5 ⭐️s and a spicy rating of 3.5/5 🌶️ s. Like if Masterpiece Theater did porn. 👏 👏 👏

᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶˖ the bounty ⌖˖✶｡⋆ part two of evasive maneuvers ✶ book two of kinktober 2024

evasive maneuvers | kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | 2 parts | word count: pending. read part two ✶ the bounty now ⌖˖✶｡⋆

a bird in the hand... WARNINGS: dom/sub vibes, restraints & bondage, continued dirty talk, use of a cloth gag, gunplay, electricity play, forced orgasms, overstim, fantasies of dubcon/noncon, dacryphilia, tech/sex toys, nipple & clit clamps, painplay, subspace, aftercare, biting/marking.

“Little birdie.” The words are soft — admiring. “Such a sweet thing for me.”  The praise melts through you: a second wave of heat on the heels of the first one, though this is softer and more syrupy — silvery-sweet. When he coasts a light fingertip over the line of your cheek, you lean into his hand — nudging into the curve of his palm, grateful for the soothing warm balm of his approval. His hand lingers even as he lifts himself from your torso, fingers coasting along your jaw as he steps to one side and then moves down between your thighs. He holsters the modified electroshock baton into a loop at his hip, and gently pries your knees apart. The way you’re tied makes it impossible to resist him — not that you have much will to do so, anyway.  “It’s one of the things I thought you’d promise me, when I was imagining catching you in Xandar — that you’d be so good for me. That you’d do whatever I frickin’ told you, with your big weepy doe-eyes.”

The baton crackles blue, casting him in a silvery halo — hovering just an inch over the soft curve of your belly. The metal wand doesn’t even touch your skin — just ghosts lightly through the air over your flesh — and the electricity still sings through you, contracting every muscle, sending your abdominals into wrenching, clenching spasms — sending your pussy into wet spasms, too. Your teeth grit into the fabric stuffed in your mouth, and when the baton lifts from your skin, you find yourself sucking on the cloth: whines crowding up your throat, tears cluttering up your lashes.  Your hips roll toward him without your permission. Rocket just grins, of course. You can see the moon-white flash of his teeth through the blur of your lashes. He’s still got the baton grasped in one hand as he spreads your knees wider, skating the other palm through the slipperiness between your thighs.  “Yeah, sweetheart, I knew you’d like a little shock or two. You’re such a sloppy mess down here. And look at that clit, all cute and twitchy.” His grip tilts, and the baton taps just below your belly button. Your body snaps into a bridge, every nerve careening wildly, pussy fluttering madly. Then the electricity leaves and you’re melting into the mattress, shuddering and shivering with waves of heat and cold. Your tits tremble with each breath, clamped nipples pulsing heat with every thud of your heartbeat.  “Good girl,” he croons, and you watch with a wide wet stare as his baton dips lower, the rounded tip dropping just beyond your range of vision. “Eyes up here, buttercup,” he croons, and your gaze snaps to his burning stare. 

read part two ✶ the bounty now ⌖˖✶｡⋆ evasive maneuvers | kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

gray support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics | silver sparkle divider by @/strangergraphics

My word is poodle.

@inubaki @raccoonfallsharder

🌸✨💓THIS IS A TUMBLR HUG! 🫂 PASS IT ON AND HAVE A LOVELY DAY! ~♡ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

awe tyy <33

This is frightening and perfect. I love their expressions. Glorious! I am so blessed with your art.

Entanglement

“How? How do you know that? There was no time to read it-”

“Listen to me, none of that matters anymore. All that matters is you getting out of here.” Petra told Rocket, putting her hand on his shoulders. There was a loud thump on the cargo bay door, and both of them turned to check the monitoring cameras. Frack pounded at the door while Knot’s mouth opened in a wordless hiss.

Rocket drew in a breath of pain as Petra gripped his shoulders with punishing strength. “You have two choices. One, finish prepping the ship, and get out of here as soon as the locking mechanism is off, or, two, I knock you the fuck out. What’s it going to be?”

One of Petra’s hands was burning him with cold, and she shook him roughly. “Which is it Rocket? You don’t tell me right away, then I’ll choose for you.” There were strange harmonics snarling in Petra’s voice, her eyes were glowing uranium lanterns. He wanted to scream in terror at her expression, but he knew that if he started he’d never stop.

——Chapter 10 by @hibatasblog

not gonna lie, this reminds of some a story I once read about Peter. When his mind extended the span of galaxies under Ego’s influences. Pushing him mentally beyond the factors of human perspectives til the case of the root of his humanity is called back. His mother. But the side effects linger on as the scope of his consciousness is suddenly reduced back to the size of glass where it once had been an ocean.

For Petra it’s similar in my eyes. The celestial traits giving her mind’s eye a perspective beyond the ‘smaller frames’, this being Rocket. As long as he’s okay, the means are justified. soooooo….amazing chapter!!!! the picture scared the crap out of my friend so I’m calling it a win.

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!

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

Happy pride month to my favs ever

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