Swoons In Anticipation.

Also hyperventilating… in French.

Themed nights at Sister Margaret's.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Prompt # 20 Put Your Ray Gun to My Head

Petra held the laser pistol she stole from the room at the ready as she ducked down, and the door to the small bedroom opened. The hallway was empty; neither the gigantic tree man, the vicious green woman, nor the small, angry, and begoggled creature were in evidence. She let out a breath of relief before rising back up and making her way down the hall. Her heart pounded as she slowly eased her way towards what she hoped was the cockpit.

Everything on this damn ship is weird, Petra thought: the small child’s clothes in the locker, the too low workbench littered with odd tools, and the thick aroma of degreaser and fir trees permeating the sheets on the bed. She side-eyed the long row of storage racks lining the hall that narrowed the slender passageway even further. She frowned and shook her head. Stay focused, keep your cool, Petra thought angrily, but a niggling thought kept tickling at her brain.

The last thing she remembered was running away with her prize before agonizing bolts of electricity arced through her nerves. Normally, a jolt like that was painful, not even close to debilitating, but being caught unawares was another matter entirely. Letting out a howl of pain, the surprise shock took her brain back in time and space, back in a time where she was helpless and terrified.

In her mind’s eye, her former tormenter, Thalisk rose above her as he advanced with the controller. When he depressed the button, she fell to her knees as the electric misery danced a wretched tune down each nerve in her body. Petra glared up at the man, refusing to give him the pleasure of watching her suffer.

The Badoon leaned down, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips as he said, “Still so willful, eyes full of hate and determination. I think I can fix that.” He flicked a part of the controller and the voltage increased. Petra fell down, chin hitting the ground with a sickening thump. She jittered on the cold stone floor, and Thalisk chuckled wryly, “Now, writhe, little girl.”

As Petra fell in this present time, the unlocked memory of horror left her open and too frightened to use her powers. She was trapped and unable to move. She was strapped down and helpless at the mercy of a sadist and a sexual predator. Petra slammed face first onto the ground, mask taking the worst of the hit. A familiar voice rang out in gloating meanness, “Yeah, writhe, little man.” Before she lost consciousness one last thought passed through her mind, Rocket?

Castigating herself for thinking about him in a moment so awful, Petra continued down the hallway to where a set of stairs spilt out of a blind turn. She didn’t like that one bit. If she went up those stairs, she would be a sitting duck. She pressed herself against the wall and mulled through her options.

She could double back, see what was on the other side of the ship or just go back to the room and lay in wait, but none of those ideas really appealed to her. Waking up in only a too-big tee-shirt and boxer briefs didn’t really help her mood or make her feel anything but anger at her captors, and she was furious when she couldn’t find her pants or jacket either. Fucking pervs, Petra thought irritably as she decided to wait at the bottom of the stair well until someone came down.

The metal was cold on her back and legs as she laid in wait, her ass was half frozen and her bare feet sore before she heard the sound of clicking claws on metal. Someone or something was making their way down the steps. Moving as soundlessly as an owl in flight, Petra positioned herself gun at the ready in a double handed stance. She had no idea how tall her opponent would be, so she decided to aim for a more certain place. As the being stepped onto the first step within sight, she was growling out, “Move one inch and I’m gonna shoot your dick off!”

Instead of a set of any kind of genitals, Petra found herself with her gun inches from the long, sloped nose of a familiar and beloved face. Rocket stared down at the barrel of Petra’s gun, his eyes almost going cross eyed to take in the unexpected threat. Kithree-fucking-hell, you’re more amazing beautiful than I remembered, he thought in wonder as he took her in, looked into her eyes for the first time in thirteen years.

He was struck with a thousand sharp arrows, his throat filled with bile, as he took in the vision she made. The snapping green eyes were as gorgeous as new spring grass, her hair was a riot of curls, and even the murderous expression on her face filled him with hope and love. He watched in awe as her mouth dropped open in alarm and surprise, and she gasped a strangled sound that climbed half way to a sob. Her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled.

The need to stop her tears had him making a terrible joke, anything to have that face light up for him again. “You’ll have to aim lower if you want to shoot my cock off, doll,” he said in the tenderest tones he’d ever uttered.

Without her helmet limiting her range of vision or his combat goggles hiding most of his face, identities couldn’t be hidden, beloved visages became clear. Her pistol didn’t waver where she kept it leveled at Rocket’s face, but Petra’s voice wobbled as she spoke, “Rock- Rocket? Is that really you?”

His throat was stuffed so full with emotions it made it hard for him to speak, the universe’s largest lump lodged in his gullet. He swallowed in a lungful of air then groaned out, “Course it’s me, baby girl. Who else would I be?”

Petra removed her finger from the trigger, hit the safety, and let the laser pistol drop from her hands and clattered onto the metal stairs. The weapon bounced noisily as it skittered from step to step, echoing horribly in the enclosed space. Her eyes were wide and shimmering with tears as Petra stood looking up mutely at the procyon. All of her body was frozen in place except for her trembling hands held up to him with the shaking awe of the disciples witnessing the return of the messiah.

Rocket’s ears rang from the violent cacophony of metal on metal. He flattened them and he winced before sighing in exasperation, “Jesus Christ, Pet, that was frickin’-” He was going to say ‘loud,’ but his mouth was suddenly occupied as Petra surged forward, grabbed his face, and slammed her lips to his.

She kissed him hard enough that when she bumped gracelessly against his front teeth, she cut her lip on them. Petra hissed at the momentary sting of her injury, but her lips never left his. She stole his exhaled breath as she used the blessing of his open mouth to deepen the kiss and lick in between his lips. The smooth glide of her tongue against his rougher one pulled a low growl of want from Rocket’s throat, and Petra answered with a moan that went right to his dick.

For the shortest moment, he could taste the holy copper penny flavor of her blood before the cavern of his mouth filled with honied sweetness and golden light. A forgotten but now remembered string of words singed his brain and bowed his back, "But if we walk in the light, as [s]he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood… cleanses us from all sin." * Rocket’s whole being burst into a wild conflagration of heated light and flame that did not burn.

Inside his body, his veins pulsed as the blood they carried transmuted into the incandescent splendor of the molten heart of a star. Petra was there in every cell of his body, her light filling all the cracks in his battered soul. As he was ensnared and wrapped in a tangle of glowing vines that cradled and held him with all the aching care and desire of a lover. He was finally home and known after being so long in the lonely void.

Rocket whined wounded noises into Petra’s unrelenting rain of kisses, dragged his tongue against her teeth, and bit her lower lip in a worshipful prayer of bone deep gratitude. She was dragon fire in his throat and lungs searing him with the intensity of her love for him and the unbearable pain of their separation. My darling love, he heard her think, Mon beau chaoui, mon coeur, stay with me, never leave me again.

He answered her words with the devotion of his mouth, promised to hold her soul between his teeth and never, never let go again. Pet, baby girl, I’ve always been with you. I told you before. We are bound. Our very particles are entangled together, and our souls are one, his heart answered back.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that she’d dragged him off of the stairs where she cradled him in her arms as she sat on the floor. She was a golden angel, illuminated with light and splendor. “I love you, Rocky. I love you. Rocket, I love you,” she chanted endlessly in the most adoring whisper he’d ever heard. Kiss after kiss was pressed reverently into the fur on the top of his head.

All of the aches and pains from earlier in the day were gone, evaporated in a searing, cleansing wash of brilliance. His hand no longer ached, his left hip was completely free of anguish, and inside of his body there was a racing and pulsing flutter of soothing butterfly wings, his mouth filled with the sweetest nectar. In the dim shadows of the stairwell, Rocket raised his hands and saw that his fur gleamed silver and bronze and his claws were obsidian daggers reflecting the stars themselves. His whole body was humming with song of Petra’s light.

She leaned down then and kissed him again, softly and sweetly as if he were made of fragile crystal or candy floss. Her lips moved all over his face, laying every bit of her feelings on every inch of him that she could reach. Petra’s magic mimicked the gentle way her lips moved against his. As she ghosted kisses against the corner of his mouth

“Please,” Rocket gasped as his hands covered Petra’s own where she cupped his face, “Petra, please,” he said. He didn’t know what he was asking for, only that his need was desperate and infinite, a deep pit that could only be filled by her.

She pulled back from his face. Her skin was like sheets of hammered gold and her eyes were the green of lit boron, flickering flames of verdant loveliness. Around her head, the golden curls were the harmless snakes of a tamed gorgon, beautiful and twisting with serpentine elegance. “You’re alive,” she breathed. “I found your broken body with all of your soul ripped out of it. I thought I would never hear your voice again,” she murmured. Her eyes held the crushing weight of all those years fate forced them apart.

“Whatever, whoever you saw, Pet; it wasn’t me. I’ve been travelling the universe searching for you every day.”

Petra looked into his perfect garnet gaze and pressed her forehead to his, “Oh, God,” she said as she rubbed his ears, “I’m so fucking glad, Rocket. I’m so happy.”

He pushed her away only so that his eyes could greedily take her in, “I never gave up. I never stopped. I never quit looking for you.” He was going to say more, something beautiful and loving, but Petra cut off any more words with another heated kiss.

Rocket was distantly aware of Petra blindly yanking his goggles off his head so that she could grip and pull the fur on the back of his head with one hand and crush his body against hers with the other, clutching at his ass with fierce possessiveness. His own hands sprang up. One paw tangled in her blond curls, and the other squeezed a breast through the soft cotton tee-shirt, claws pricking dangerously through the fabric. The sound Petra made when his thumb rubbed roughly against her nipple filled him with purpose. He dragged her down onto the unforgiving metal floor so he could lay atop her, straddling her waist and all but bucking his hips against her.

Between the two beings raged a fire of need so intense that there was no room for elegance or care in their kisses. Lips met and were the desperate crash of waves against rocky cliffs. As all rational thought fled his brain, Rocket felt the savage struggle of instinct and fought the clawing scrabbling urge to bite and mark what belonged to him, what was his. “Need you,” he said between bruising kisses, begging in a voice made of broken glass and spilled whiskey, “Need to be inside you.”

Petra nodded in agreement before pushing him up as she palmed the front of his orange jumpsuit. She hissed a wretched little cry of frustration when she couldn’t figure out how to get him out of his clothes fast enough.

“Let me,” he told her through clenched teeth as he released buckles and catches, nearly hurting himself as he tore his arms out of the sleeves and rolled the cloth down his waist. He’d never moved more quickly in his life as he wiggled down her body to be between her legs again. He couldn’t wait to shimmy the briefs off of her legs; instead, he ripped them down the middle making a frighting tearing sound that had Petra bowing her back and whimpering.

Rocket stared down at her perfect cunt and wanted to weep or fuck her until she couldn’t walk. “Baby girl, you’re already that wet?” he moaned as he reached down to trace the length of her slit, shuddered at the feeling of her desire slicking his fingers.

Petra whined and covered her eyes, “Why aren’t you already inside me?” Her whole body was shaking with the desperate and overwhelming need to have him fucking into her.

“Gimme a goddamn minute, you cheeky whore,” he grinned at her as he took his cock out and began to line himself up with her entrance. His body was a tight line of barely restrained lust.

He took a deep breath, and just as he was about to thrust his hips forward, he was jolted back by Petra’s flailing hands and deafened by her screech of, “Holy shit, the tree monster is back.”

“I am Groot!” Groot bellowed in outrage, and Rocket felt his ears burning as his friend laid into him about not fucking people without their consent.

Rolling over she was grabbing for the gun, and Rocket was fighting to keep her from reaching it, scrabbling to throw the weapon as far away as he could while Petra was yanking on his tail. “Trust me, I had her fucking consent, Groot,” he wheezed as he smacked Petra’s hand to make her let go of his tail.

“Rocket gimme the gun!” Petra snapped as she tried to grab him before he squirmed free of her grip.

Chucking the gun over Groot’s head, it sailed far down the hallway to where no one could possibly reach it and shoot anyone. “Every one, calm down. No one has to get hurt here,” he cried out to the two beings he loved more than any others.

“That tree tried to kill me,” Petra retorted hotly as she tried to sit up and cover herself with one hand.

“I AM Groot,” Groot answered sharply and pointed at Rocket’s exposed sex.

Rocket slapped his forehead in annoyance and snarked, “Stop accusing me of shit I didn’t do. She was practically begging for me to dick her down.”

“Rocket!” Petra exclaimed, her face a glowing ember of red coal.

Before he could explain further, there was an ominous thump against the ship and the com system blared, “This is the Nova Corps. You have fifteen seconds to reply to this query, or we will blow up this heap of junk you call a ship.”

* 1 John 1:7 "But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin."

TRACK # ?

Moonage Daydream

Song by David Bowie

I'm an alligator

I'm a mama-papa comin' for you

I'm the space invader

I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you

Keep your mouth shut

You're squawking like a pink monkey bird

And I'm bustin' up my brains for the words

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Don't fake it baby

Lay the real thing on me

The church of man, love

Is such a holy place to be

Make me baby

Make me know you really care

Make me jump into the air

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oooh!

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Freak out

Far out

In out

Two captains and one calm evening with songs from Awesome Mix on their Walkman through headphones for two.

Coming soon Not coming soon.

All of this is 100% true. You can choose who you love and family does not trump yourself.

Credit: Ashley McMinn

Look at this amazing gorgeousness! I’m in love with the collaged background and vivid warm colors!

A gift for @hibatasblog! An extensive vacation for our two favorite explorers. In my mind Rocket is hung up on all journey details when it’s his turn.

Gorgeous art for a great story. My heart breaks for them here.

@nerdy-and-dedicated gifted! For chapter 19 and the sneak peek given. 🥰

I’ve been feeling pretty bummed out all week and this has really lightened my day!

I am utterly and forever in love with this art. You captured the babies perfectly. It is just fucking gloriously beautiful. I love every tiny scrap of detail. Your interpretation of Petra and Rocket makes my heart sing. I love it so so much.

a scene from entanglement by @hibatasblog

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

coloring page below. you know, if you like to color or whatever ♡

petra quill & rocket raccoon in some top-secret, hidden, unfrequented corner of the eclector. you just know they've found this place and made it their own.

entanglement is one of my favorite comfort fics of all time and you should read it if you haven’t already. it’s perfection. i just wanted to draw petra & rocket in a moment of peace on the eclector, tucked away in a hidden corner. rocket’s studying for his exams, and of course he’s already made a second set of headphones spliced into petra’s. petra’s wearing the t-shirt and red flannel she’d had on when she was scooped, though they’re a little small on her now.

this was honestly so much fun to draw. so relaxing & peaceful to color that i practically felt like i was inside the picture. this is my first full-background in digital medium and i gotta say, i’m so happy with the way it turned out. i think i nailed the glow, even on the pipes and vents, which made it hard to pick a favorite (with or without extra stardust??).

@hibatasblog thank you for creating such a beautiful, lovely story, and sharing it with our fandom. i hope i did your babies justice, and i hope this drawing gives you the same feeling i get when i read (and reread… and reread) entanglement.

a few close-ups of the ship lights (below) because i love them so much. they’re so shiny. also some in-progress screenshots and linework ♡ feel free to color if you want ♡♡ (just tag me please // let me know!)

This needs to be tucked in every Rocket fans bedside table as a naughty guilty pleasure. It’s also so beautifully written.

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂

chapter four. anthrodynia. [new 3/19] ❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 4/25 | wip | word count: pending.

the monster regrets. see below for warnings & notes.

There are two berth-style bunks but he’s always been on his own, and so one has been covered in tools and machines and mines, all in various stages of being constructed or dismantled. She clutches her hands in at her collarbone — just as well, the Monster thinks, because she probably shouldn’t touch any of this shit unless she wants to possibly lose her cute little fingers at best, or blow a hole in the side of the runabout at worst — but he’s startled when she sways over his makeshift workbench, peering down with something like fascination painted on her pretty face. “You made all these?” she asks. Fuck — she sounds so nice like that, voice all drenched with awe and admiration.  He abruptly realizes that he’s still gonna have to figure out the bunk situation. “Shit,” he hisses, and she jumps.  “S-sorry—“ “What—? Not you, pearl.” He sighs. He’s not gonna get any sleep tonight anyway — too focused on getting as far away from HalfWorld as possible, on figuring out where to drop the first careful misdirection, figuring out where to drop her — and would it be so wrong to just have her sleep in his bunk tonight? His dick twitches in response and he seethes. “Lay down,” he orders in a growl.  She hesitates only for a second, then skirts him and lowers herself carefully to the berth, leaning awkwardly as she balances on her unbruised side.

read chapter four on ao3 :･꧂

WARNINGS: aftercare. references to chapter two’s violence. regret. sexual fantasies and general horniness. references to food restriction/dieting.

i appreciate every one of you who has stuck around for this. i'm working hard on this (i have about ten chapters drafted and i'm watching this fic become longer and longer because we will eventually get to "real" plot with like. reuniting with old friends and shit.) there's a little bit of a fix-it fantasy in here for me beyond just comforting & fucking the raccoon. anyway if you stick around i hope you won't be disappointed.

꧁･:☁︎⋆. masterlist, notes, & moodboard .⋆☁︎ :･꧂

some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

Me too, buddy. Me too.

Rocket: Schrödinger's cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that's both alive and dead you can talk to me any time of the day.

The Great Reading...

It was Rocket Strange who greeted Rocket the Grey at the Doors.

"You're late!" the orange-robed, cyan-cloaked son of the Sorcerer Supreme snarked.

Clad in his grey hat and robes, Rocket the Grey took a puff from his pipe then cheekily replied, "A Wizard is never late, Mr. Strange. He arrives precisely when he means to!"

For a moment, the two looked at each other--and then, a little teary-eyed, they embraced! "Err... am I late? They haven't started the Reading, yet, have they?" the Grey Raccoon asked, worriedly.

"Oh, nah," Rocket Strange answered, nuzzling the apprentice of Mithrandir, "but you're the last to come here. So many made it tonight, come on!"

With that, the two opened the Doors and stepped into a titanic Colosseum that was full of... Rockets! Thousands upon thousands of Rockets from all walks of life, albeit they were mostly kind and good; those who were too cruel or were slavering beasts from the darkest of worlds weren't allowed here.

Thousands of Rockets, many accompanied by a Lylla or their Humies, but also many without. Jedi Rockets; Wizard Rockets; a Maori Chief Rocket and his Uplifted Racccoon Tribe; Purely organic or machine Rockets and all in between; a Rocket and Lylla who were ghosts united, a Rocket and Lylla whom were living stars; Time Lord Rocket and Time Lady Lylla; Rocket Knight and with him Kitt, the TransAm in a Berth at his side; Honourable Pirate Lord Rocket, and with him Pirate Queen Lylla; Egyptian Pharoah Amun-Ro-Khet I, his Queen Lylla, and his Terran Attendants; Rocket Raccoon but with him a Peter Quill who was also a raccoon; Native American Shaman Rocket the Medicine Raccoon with his Uplifted Raccoon Village... and on, and on, and on...

High above, upon a throne of metal - clad in orange armour and helm to contain the mighty Power Cosmic - Great Procyon ROCKETUS the Life-Bringer, the Creator of Worlds, banged his Staff upon the stone floor. "CALLING FOR SILENCE!' he boomed. "SILENCE, PLEASE!" When the noise of the great Colosseum hushed, Great Procyon Rocketus continued, softer, "Tonight's Reading is about to Commence, and it concerns one Terran Human we all know by the pseudonym... Raccoon Falls Harder..."

Almost immediately, utterly joyous cheering was heard as the Rocket Collective clapped, stomped their feet, whooped and howled and raccoon-called with sheer joy! The Great Raccoon smiled, let it all continue for a moment--but then, he cracked his Staff upon the ground again, "Silence, silence please!" he commanded, and all complied. "This beloved Terran has written a new work." Reaching for a beautiful, illuminated manuscript scroll, the Great Procyon unrolled it. "It is titled simply, 'Machinery'. Let the Reading now Commence!"

The Colosseum quieted, and - drawing gently upon the Power Cosmic - Great Procyon Rocketus used it to create the eerie, disquieting sound of a mechanical heart, Ka-chunk-hnk. Ka-chunk-hnk. With this as ambience, he started to read aloud from the scroll, his audience listening, enraptured,

"'Rocket scrubs his knuckles against the fur and flesh that have grown over his metal sternum. His ribs strain like creaky bellows, lungs splitting and bruising against the bones...'"