Reminder To:

Holy shit. The first chapter was so fucking good! You will not regret reading this or anything by this author. Top tier quality and smoking hot.

⋆˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⋆ (a meetgroot*) masterlist

18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 1/3 parts | wip | word count: pending.

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.

mcu-based, post-volume-three, possible secondhand embarrassment. rising sexual tension with explicit commentary and fantasy; smut in part three. check back for warnings.

⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 collects Parts One through Three. Part One. Sugared Violets. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ groot attempts to parent-trap his dad. ✩ Part Two. Crystallized Ginger. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ nebula talks some sense into the captain. ❤︎ Part Three. Candied Apples. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ everything bears fruit.❤︎❤︎

no skin color, hair texture, or body shape/size specified in this work - the bodies depicted below are solely present to show off the damn dress.

some explicit statements or references ✩ explicit scenes or fantasy sequences ❤︎‬ long, detailed, and graphic explicit content ❤︎‬❤︎‬ deliberately smut-free, mostly or entirely platonic ✮

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

Make it so, number one.

When you think you can’t get any more hype, and then your favorite author posts something like this.

i spent too much time today outlining all of cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂

it should be forty chapters long (give or take if i need to split something up). i have over half of them drafted.

and friends....it's like... good, i think? lots of smutty commentary so not for everyone but it's maybe almost an actual space opera. and the plot points are tight, even if the writing isn't always.

i don't know. it's no Window Across the Galaxy *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ but i'm kind excited about it???

major themes:

chapter seventeen. keyframe. a moment that felt innocuous at the time but ended up marking a diversion into a strange new era of your life—a chance meeting you’d think back on for years, a harmless comment that sparked an ongoing feud, an idle musing that would come to define your entire career—a monumental shift secretly buried among the tiny imperceptible differences between one ordinary day and the next. In video compression, a key frame defines major changes in a scene. Most frames in compressed video are in-betweens, marking subtle incremental changes, but key frames depict a whole new scene. This technique allows you to move forward without stopping to buffer, even if it makes it harder to rewind.

chapter eighteen. attriage.  the state of having lost all control over how you feel about someone— not even trying to quench the flames anymore, but lighting other fires around your head just hoping to contain the damage. From atria, the chambers of the heart + triage, the sorting of patients in hospital admissions, factoring in the urgency of their illness or injury.

chapter nineteen. tiris. the bittersweet awareness that all things must end. The way you’re still only settling into vacation while mentally preboarding your flight home, or how soon after starting a new relationship you start to wonder exactly how this one ends. Even before you’ve purchased the carton of milk in your hands, you’re already turning it over, looking for the expiration date. In the end, all goods are perishable. Everything is transient. From Tír na nÓg, the land of everlasting youth in Irish folklore + hubris, excessive pride or arrogance, especially toward a god.

chapter twenty. foilsick. feeling ashamed after revealing a little too much of yourself to someone—allowing them too clear a view of your pettiness, your anger, your cowardice, your childlike vulnerability—wishing you could somehow take back the moment, discreetly bolting the door after a storm had already blown it off its hinges. Scottish Gaelic foillsich, to expose.

chapter twenty-one. puntkick. a quiet jolt of recognition that it’s time to become a better version of yourself, sensing that all the strategies that brought you this far are no longer working—that it’s not enough anymore to be cute or nice or righteous or tough—as if you’ve now entered a new phase in the game of life, moving forward with a completely different token. Dutch puntstuk, railway frog, which is the part of a railway switch where two rails intersect. Sometimes you can feel a little kick when your train passes over it, as if the world is trying to signal you’re missing a turn, having traveled too far on the same old track.

chapter twenty-two. falesia. the disquieting awareness that someone’s importance to you and your importance to them may not necessarily match—that your best friend might only think of you as a buddy, that someone you barely know might consider you a mentor, that someone you love unconditionally might have one or two conditions. Portuguese falésia, cliff. A cliff is a dizzying meeting point between high ground and low ground.

chapter twenty-three. xeno.  the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—a warm smile, a sympathetic nod, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence—moments that are fleeting and random but still contain powerful emotional nutrients that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone. Ancient Greek ξένος (xénos), alien, stranger.

chapter twenty-four. nodrophobia.  the fear of irrevocable actions and irreversible processes—knowing that a colorful shirt will fade a little more with every wash, that your tooth enamel is wearing away molecule by molecule, never to grow back. Greek μονόδρομος (monódromos), one-way street + -φοβία (-phobía), fear. Pronounced “noh-droh-foh-bee-uh.”

chapter twenty-five. la gaudière. a glint of goodness you notice in someone that you wouldn’t expect, which is often only detectable by sloshing them back and forth in your mind until everything dark and gray and common falls away, leaving something shining at the bottom of the pan—a rare element hidden deep in the bedrock, that must’ve been washed there by a storm somewhere upstream. French la gaudière, from Latin gaudere, to find joy.

chapter twenty-six. thrapt. anderance. anderance. the awareness that your partner perceives the relationship from a totally different angle than you—spending years looking at a different face across the table, listening for cues in a different voice—an odd reminder that no matter how much you have in common, you’re still in love with different people. Dutch ander, another person, someone else. Pronounced “an-der-uhns.”thrapt. awed at the impact someone has had on your life, feeling intimidated by how profoundly they helped shape your identity, having served as a ghostwriter of a work that nevertheless only appears under your name. From thrapped, drawn tight, as with nautical ropes + rapt, carried away with emotion.

chapter twenty-seven. dolorblindness. the frustration that you’ll never be able to understand another person’s pain, only ever searching their face for some faint evocation of it, then rifling through your own experiences for some slapdash comparison, wishing you could tell them truthfully, “I know exactly how you feel.” Latin dolor, pain + colorblindness. Pronounced “doh-ler-blahynd-nis.”

chapter twenty-eight. amoransia. the melodramatic thrill of unrequited love; the longing to pine for someone you can never have, wallowing in devotion to some impossible person who could give your life meaning by their very absence. Portuguese amor, love + ânsia, craving. Pronounced “ah-moh-ran-see-uh.”

chapter twenty-nine. mauerbauertraurigkeit. the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends whose company you generally enjoy—like a poker player who keeps folding a promising hand in order to avoid the pain of losing, or tamp down the urge to go all-in. German Mauerbauer, wall-builder + Traurigkeit, sadness. 

chapter thirty. holiette. heartmoor. holiette. a place that seems to hold profound significance to everyone else but you—the sacred temple of some other faith, a random fence post festooned with flowers, a crowd cheering for a team you’ve never heard of—which leaves you trying to coax yourself into feeling something anyway, like inserting your house key into a random lock just to feel if something clicks. From holy, sacred or religiously revered + -ette, denoting an imitation of the real thing. Pronounced “hoh-lee-et.”heartmoor.  the primal longing for a home village to return to, a place that no longer exists, if it ever did; the fantasy of finding your way back home before nightfall, hustling to bring in the cattle before the rains come; picturing a cluster of lanterns glowing on the edge of a tangled wood, hearing the rattle and hiss of meals cooking over a communal fire, finding your place in a crowded longhouse made of clay-packed thatch, where you’d sit and listen to the voices of four generations layered into a canon, telling stories of a time when people could still melt into a collective personality and weren’t just floating around alone. From heart + moor, to tie a boat to an anchor. Pronounced “hahrt-moor.”

chapter thirty-one. heartworm. a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire. From heart + earworm, a catchy piece of music that compulsively loops inside your head.

chapter thirty-two. etherness. the wistful feeling of looking around a gathering of loved ones, all too aware that even though the room is filled with warmth and laughter now, it won’t always be this way—that the coming years will steadily break people away into their own families, or see them pass away one by one, until there comes a time when you’ll look back and try to imagine what it felt like to have everyone together in the same place. From ether, an intoxicating compound that evaporates very quickly + togetherness. 

chapter thirty-three. evertheless. the fear that this is ultimately as good as your life is ever going to get—that the ebb and flow of your fortunes is actually just now hitting its high-water mark, and soon enough you’ll sense the tide of life slowly begin to recede. From ever + nevertheless. Pronounced “ev-er-thuh-les.”

chapter thirty-four. funkenzwangsvorstellung. immerensis. funkenzwangsvorstellung. the primal trance of watching a campfire in the dark. German Funken, spark + Zwangsvorstellung, obsession. Pronounced “foon-ken-tsvang-svohr-stel- oong.”immerensis. the maddening inability to understand the reasons why someone loves you—almost as if you’re selling them a used car that you know has a ton of problems and requires daily tinkering just to get it to run normally, but no matter how much you try to warn them, they seem all the more eager to hop behind the wheel and see where this puppy can go. Latin immerens, undeserving.

chapter thirty-five. fellchaser. a long-forgotten mistake from your past that could reappear at any time and rip your life apart, like a boomerang you tossed away years ago that’s only just now looping back around, which you’d have no idea how to handle because you have no idea what it is. From fell, to cause to fall by delivering a blow + molechaser, a low swooping throw of a boomerang.

chapter thirty-six. hubilance. the quiet poignance of your own responsibility for someone, with a mix of pride and fear and love and humility—feeling a baby fall asleep on your chest, or driving at night surrounded by loved ones fast asleep, who trust you implicitly with their lives—a responsibility that wasn’t talked about or assigned to you, it was assumed to be yours without question. From hub, the central part of the wheel that bears the weight + jubilance.

chapter thirty-seven. moriturism. antiophobia. moriturism. a tiny jolt of awareness that someday you will die, which leaves you lying awake in bed whispering silently to yourself, Oh, right, this is it; an unsettling reminder that your life is not just a game you’re playing or a story you’ll be telling later, but your one and only glimpse of what the universe has to offer, like a kid waking up in the back seat of the family car at night, having just pulled into a bright neon gas station, looking around for a moment or two, before settling back in for the long road trip, sleeping for miles and miles off into the dark. Latin morituri, “we who are about to die.” antiophobia. a fear you sometimes experience while leaving a loved one, wondering if this will turn out to be the last time you’ll ever see them, and whatever slapdash good-bye you toss their way might have to serve as your final farewell. Greek αντίο (antío), farewell + -φοβία (-phobía), fear. Pronounced “an-tee-uh-foh-bee-uh.”

chapter thirty-eight. tillid. humbled by how readily you place your life into the hands of random strangers, often without a second thought—trusting a restaurant to check its expiration dates, trusting a construction crew not to cheap out on materials, trusting thousands of other drivers to stay in their lane —people who you may never meet but whose well-being you’re deeply invested in, whether you know it or not. Danish tillid, trust. 

chapter thirty-nine. suente.  the state of being so familiar with someone that you can be in a room with them without thinking, without holding anything back, or without having to say a word—to the extent that you have to remind yourself that they’re a different being entirely, that brushing hair away from their eyes won’t help you see any better. Southwest English dialect suent, easy, peaceful, smooth. 

chapter forty. suerza. beloiter. suerza. a feeling of quiet amazement that you exist at all; a sense of gratitude that you were even born in the first place, that you somehow emerged alive and breathing despite all odds, having won an unbroken streak of reproductive lotteries that stretches all the way back to the beginning of life itself. Spanish suerte, luck + fuerza, force. beloiter. to look around in a state of mild astonishment that your life is somehow still going, as if a part of you had just assumed that your allotment of days would’ve been used up by now, standing there like a player at a slot machine, perpetually surprised that your winnings continue to trickle out, but not sure what you’re supposed to do now. From to be + to loiter, to hang around someplace with no particular agenda.

My heart! Oh, they look so beautiful and loving. Also wet grumpy Rocket is a vibe.

boring meeting scribble time

a couple lil pieces inspired by @hadesinsane

most raccoons have the instinct to swim and even enjoy it, but i suspect all of rocket's augmentations weigh him down in the water. to make a raccoon body stand and move like a human body requires so many pins and plates, new bones, osteotomies. but when we see lylla in vol 3, it really looks like only her arms have been altered (as far as her skeletal/muscular system goes), and otters don't appear to use their arms much for swimming. i like to believe she retains her aquatic abilities.

in another universe, a kinder timeline, i like to think lylla survives. maybe she and rocket escape at the same time, or they find each other later. she has a little den on a nicer part of morag, or aladna, or tarka. i like to think she convinces him to wade in the shallow water while she plays, and teases him for looking like a drowned f'saki when his fur gets all wet (because lets face it, otter-fur withstands the water a little better than raccoon-fur). but afterward, even though he’s so much bigger than her now, she curls him up in her arms like he's just a little baby otter pup, and floats him on her belly while they watch the clouds or doze under the stars, and the sky is beautiful and forever above them.

rocket fanart masterlist | art masterlist current art queue | navigation | fanfiction masterlist headcanons & imagines

raccoon dividers by @/thecutestgrotto fairylight dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Seriously, wtf world.

I’m posting this every Wednesday. 

drew out one of my favorite posts from @incorrect-bugborg as a warm-up/wind-down in between commission work! just wanted to draw something silly~

Commissions | Ko-fi

Stop discriminating on skin color/race/gender/religion/sexuality/gender identification/anything people. We are all just human beings. Our differences only make us more interesting!

He’s Sikh, not a terrorist. Poor Sikh comunity always bears the brunt of ISIS terrorist because they wear a simple turban..  Wake up and accept cultural differences, not every foreigner is out to hurt you.

Just Petra hanging out with Tony Stark…

Rocket and Lylla go swimming (in an different multiverse...)

by FlyttOfFancy

I love this! It’s so intricate and detailed with all of the story. Favorite part was “engine shit.”

rocket & pearl’s bunk in cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ working on an illustration of one of my favorite scenes from chapter thirteen. heartspur.

did i say “fuck perspective”? yes i did but i tried to make up for it by including rocket's laser cannon, railgun, twin barrel blaster, stolen nova cannon (obscured by the bunk-straps), gatling blaster (i tend to call it a rotary autocannon or autoblaster since, like, "gatling" wouldn't really exist in intergalactic parlance?), parts of the hadron enforcer, and another gun i've seen him with but whose name i couldn't identify. and, of course, the modded quadblaster he's working on for pearl. i did not include katie and vicki or the collapsible blaster-rifle, but assume they're in there somewhere. maybe over on the other bunk-turned-workbench.

i sketched the layout of the runabout (below) for my own reference while writing (i clearly know nothing about how spaceships work but hey, this one’s been modified by a sentient raccoon so we can all suspend some disbelief).

let’s assume the hull is a lot thicker and there’s a lower-lower level still (probably accessible from the engine room) that contains some additional shit connecting the engine, fuselage, artillery, etc. honestly this is just so i have a general idea of the environment while writing.