azurekisaragi

[azurekisaragi]

First time drawing him, I know there's definite room for improvement but I still like it

#wolf o'donnell #wolf my beloved #you did great!

[azurekisaragi]

[azurekisaragi]

What are your thoughts on Wolf x Fox?

"Wolf?" Fox murmured. "Well, I reckon Wolf's a decent bloke, you know. Sure, he likes to play the tough guy, but I've seen sides of him, both good and not so good, if you catch my drift."

Fox enjoys Wolf's company, at least when they manage to maintain civility between them. Wolf has a knack for being somewhat flirtatious whenever they happen to cross paths on Venom (not exactly Fox's usual haunt). Usually, Fox can detect the faint scent of alcohol on his breath during these encounters. Despite that, Fox remains grateful for Wolf's heroic actions in saving him during the Aparoid threat on Corneria, even though Wolf admitted he had initially wanted to "finish him off" himself.

"I suppose Wolf holds a 'special place' in my heart as both a rival and a friend," Fox remarked casually. "As I said, I've seen him at his best, and that's when he really impresses me. I almost pity him in a way. But don't expect me to go out of my way for him." Though Fox's statement might have sounded like a bit of a stretch, the truth was, he'd likely extend a helping hand to Wolf if the situation demanded it. However, he knew better than to let his guard down completely. After all, old habits die hard.

Mun Thoughts.

In hindsight, I really love the idea of 'Wolf x Fox'. It's a personal favorite ship of mine. Fox on the other hand, is a very guarded individual. I would imagine their relationship to be a bit confusing to the masses (which is why I think they make for such a glorious ship). I imagine that as time moves on, Wolf sorta settles on the fact that Fox had every opportunity to end him, but choose not to. Clearly, there is a reason? For me, I believe that reason to be Fox see's something in Wolf that no one else can see. As cliché as it sounds, That is something he has a knack for. Fox is very observant. I think what makes this such a good ship is their backstories. They intertwine almost seamlessly, and that 'kinda' makes it easier to just pair the two. While I don't have this fleshed out 'headcanon' on why? or how? They are a total fertile ground for exploration and development in any fan-fict/ship. So the possibilities are endless.

I imagine if they were together, Wolf would definitely be the grumpy/over protective one. Clearly, Fox cares about Wolf and doesn't want anything bad to happen to him.

Their love story is anything but ordinary, and that's what makes it SOOO compelling to me!

#wolfox #your honor i love them so much #you did great! #def one of my favorites too!

[azurekisaragi]

no fox you are scary believe in yourself

#wolf o'donnell #wolf my beloved #wolfox #very cute!

[azurekisaragi]

scritches

#wolf o'donnell #wolf my beloved

[azurekisaragi]

Quick PSA, if you get one of those "Work scanned, AI use detected" comments on AO3, just mark them as spam.

Some moron apparently built a bot to annoy or prank hundreds of authors.

There is no scanning process, your work doesn't actually resemble AI writing, it's all bullshit. Mark the comment as spam (on AO3, not the email notification you got about the comment!) and don't let it get to you.

[azurekisaragi]

I don't quite know if you're down to write this, but perhaps Wolf O'Donnell, Fox McCloud, and reader all in a relationship together? Wolf has always been a crush of mine and I love him with Fox, but I want him too, and I think Fox is really cute and figuring out the whole thing could be fun!~

I will most certainly do what I can.

A Split in Preferences

(Wolf O'Donnell and Fox McCloud x Reader)

Genere: Fluff, Romantic

Pairing: Wolf O'Donnell and Fox McCloud x Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Warnings: Just some romantic rivalry.

The boys were on relatively good terms with each other. And they even became, almost like brothers. But then it all changed the moment they laid eyes on you.

They were immediately star struck by you and they immediately wanted you to be theirs. But they, like real brothers would, didn't want the other getting you first.

Wolf: "How about this. A series of dates, and whoever they like better is their mate."

He proposes. Fox didn't need a second of thought.

Fox: "You are SO on!"

They shook hands and went about trying to impress you, woo you and win your affection. Both of them had the same amount of success, which drove them crazy as you didn't seem to have a favorite. Growing desperate, they opted to try to sabotage each other, but you eventually caught wind of this and decided to put an end to it.

Y/N: "BOYS!"

You shouted. They immediately stopped what they were doing and looked at you, rather perplexed.

Y/N: "What is this all about!?"

You demanded to know. The two canines had their tails tucked between their legs in shame.

Fox: "We decided to have ourselves a contest to see who you liked better."

Wolf: "But you didn't seem to have a favorite so-"

Y/N: "Because I love both of you, ya goofballs!"

This took them off guard. You walked over to them and kissed them on their cheeks, causing them both to blush uncontrollably. From then on you three were a very public and widely talked about throuple. Nobody would shut up about you dating not one, but both leaders of the two biggest mercenary groups in Lylat. You were the talk of the galaxy. But you didn't mind. As long as you could still be with your two boyfriends, nothing bothered you.

A/N: Hey y'all! Sorry if this was kinda short but I'm not really used to these kinds of requests. So I'm just kinda dipping my toes in the water and seeing how it goes.

#very cute! #i love my boys!~ #Fox and especially Wolf~~ #Wolf O'Donnell x reader #Fox McCloud x reader

[azurekisaragi]

Rather Than You - Cait Sith & Kitsune!Reader

I get the feeling this isn't exactly what you were looking for...but it's pretty on par for me. I actually had fun with this after finishing rebirth and I really REALLY love kitsune, so that was fun. But anyway, you've waited long enough so enjoy!

WARNING FOR FF7 REBIRTH SPOILERS!!!

Premise: Cait Sith gives his own life to save the others

Words: 1,788

~~~~~

               The journey together hasn’t been long, but it’s been the wildest ride. There have been reckless escapes, cautious subterfuge, and more close calls than I care to remember. Despite these harrowing events, I would do it all over again.

               Or at least I thought I would.

               Many would many would think me a fool for so quickly growing attached to the little animatronic. I learned the hard way that they were right. Our first encounter had me instantly charmed. That charisma broke through the stress and chaos of our mission, bringing smiles or even just sarcastic eye rolls. What’s more is that he listened, even when no one spoke.

               Long before Nanaki, I suffered the chains and needles of the mad doctor—all for simply existing. My magic, my body, my existence all became an eager fascination for dissection. There were traumas aplenty in that laboratory and I will never be the same free spirit I’d been all those decades ago.

               But Cait Sith brought back genuine smiles, even by accident. I didn’t need to speak a word, but he always knew just the ridiculous act to pull me from morbid ruminations. And when I did speak, he listened, waiting until just the right moment to say the right words. I never understood how an artificial creature could have such empathy, let alone for someone like me. We couldn’t be any more different, but thanks to him, I began to have hope again.

               Then came the betrayal. Watching the keystone fall into Shinra hands simply because we trusted him tore me apart. I wanted to scream, I wanted to tear him apart, I wanted to disappear. His actions cut deep and now I feel more alone than ever before.

               Even now, I haven’t quite come to terms with it, evident by the trial forced on me in the Hall of Resurrection. But there’s nothing I can do—there’s no time to cope. All I can do in this moment is forget who I am and move forward.

               My name shatters the delusions I’d thoughtlessly chased, giving me only a fraction of a second to avoid the claws closing down on me. Even then, I lose a few hairs at the end of one of my tails for my neglect.

               “Focus up!” Cloud demands, rushing past to swing at the massive wall demon.

  ��            Though the man’s been acting out of sorts himself, he’s right—this is no time for self-pity. A shake of the head dislodges the distraction, hopefully, and I turn my full attention to the fight at hand.

               Twin tails flicker, multiplying to nine in their flurry. In my hands, flames the color of clear skies ignite. All this pent-up grief would serve me better in other ways.

               Walls crawl ever closer as we battle not one, but two of these monsters. I give all I have, hoping each burn I inflict will lighten the burden in my heart. It never does, but I fight on regardless.

               Golden light glitters on the floor, catching my eye. In its midst, entirely unaware in her concentration, stands Yuffie.

               There’s no second guessing what happens next. My body lurches forward at the single notion of getting her clear of the attach. It doesn’t matter how hard the collision is or that, while she falls clear of the attack, I don’t.

               An immense weight bears down on my leg before a powerful snap echoes in my ears. Pain sears through my muscles, tearing a scream from my mouth. Officially, I’m down and out for the rest of this fight, struggling to stay conscious against the agony.

               “I can’t mend the break, but I can help.”

               Warmth seeps into the pain, dissolving it bit by bit, until it becomes bearable enough to pry my eyes open. The demons are gone. All but Cloud shows me their concern, Aerith holding a gentle hand against my leg.

               “Thanks,” I breathe.

               She nods. “Can you stand?”

               The slightest movement sends fire through the limb and blurring my vision. “Not without help.”

               A shoddy splint stifles the shifting, at least allowing me to stand, but it’s Barret’s strength that helps me move forward.

               Ahead of us lies an altar where stands our ex-SOLDIER companion. As we make the last steps, the Temple trembles, Cloud seemingly unaffected by the chaos he’s caused. Aerith confirms that the Temple is crumbling around us, meanwhile Barret leaves my side, struggling with Cloud to replace the black materia. When that doesn’t work, grim reality spreads through the group.

               “I’m back—just in the nick o’ time!” A pair of fingers tip off the ear to me as if he wasn’t a traitor.

               I can only stare, utterly dumbfounded at the audacity of this cat to show his face again to the people he stabbed in the back.  But before Barret can put a few holes in him, Cait Sith rolls beneath the sinking altar, giving his all to keep it from collapsing.

               “Run—while there’s still time. Leave the heavy liftin’ to me!”

               Air hitches in my chest.

               “For real?” Barret asks, his own arm straining against the platform.  

               Aerith steps forward. “But what about you”

               “No need to fret about a bot like me. I wasnae built to last.” The cat’s knees quiver. “I wish I hadnae skipped leg day. Cannae hold out for long, so run…as if your lives depended on it!”

               Vincent makes his entrance, calling for us to follow him to the exit. The others begin to rush past me, meanwhile, I’m paralyzed in more ways than one.

               “Hey cat, ‘ppreciate it.” Barret’s hand releases the altar, leaving the struggling feline to bear its full weight.

               “Off with ya.”

               This is when I notice Barret coming straight for me. I choke past the lump in my throat.

               “No.”

               “C’mon.”

               “No!” I stumble in an attempt to back away from him.

               It takes the man very little effort to hoist me over his shoulder, all while my fists pound uselessly against his back. Watching Cait Sith grow farther and farther out of reach grips at my heart, the jerking feeling rattling my vision.

               “No! Cait!” I reach out in vain. “NO!”

               My heart surges forward as I race back for the cat.

               “Oi, what are ya doin’?! Get out of here!” he shouts.

               “I’m not done with you!” Tears slip past my anger.

               He peers up, the worry falling from his face. “Oh, I get ya.”

               “You…stupid cat!”

               “I know. I’m sorry.” Even his stuffed moogle doesn’t slow the altar’s progress all that much.

               This torture far exceeds whatever ache a broken leg could inflict. All this anger and grief mixed together pours forth completely out of my control as I scream at him.

               “Sorry doesn’t cut it! What were you thinking?! After everything we’ve been through, how could you do that to us?!”

               He grimaces as his legs give a little more, but then he turns a pure smile on me.

               “I was thinkin’…that, if someone had to get hurt, I’d rather it be Shinra…than any of you.”

               Even if the rage falters, there’s enough sorrow to take its place and keep the tears flowing.

               “I knew this place was dangerous…and that maybe we’d lose someone.” Those ears flop as he shakes his head. “But I couldnae stand the thought of that bein’ you.” His weak laugh is interrupted by his straining. “I know I could never hope to have a life as long as yours, but I’m honored to have had the pleasure of meeting you in the time I had.”

               A hand over my mouth doesn’t stifle the shuddering sob.

               “Cait…”

               “Now there’s a whole wide world out there. And I know it can be scary and dark and cruel…but people like you and the others make it worth savin’…So you go out there and save it and find the good that makes livin’ worthwhile.”

               My knees meet the stone just as his do. “Cait! Please!”

               “Just…remember me now and then…okay?”

               A hand shoots forward, passing right through the altar with no effect. There’s nothing I can do.

               The small bot begins to crumple. “It was a good run…while it lasted.”

               The moogle’s eyes begin blinking in error.

               “You did…what you could.”

               “Cait, no! Get up! Please!”

               “The rest is up to them.”

               Those are his last words. The altar finally reaches the ground and Cait Sith is gone.

               Pieces of the ceiling finally start to give way, crumbling around me. A massive section falls, bringing down Cait’s moogle, who reaches out to lay a hand on the altar. All while I watch, utterly useless.

               In the following moments, the Temple continues to collapse until finally, it all comes crashing down.

               My eyes snap open, a sharp breath filling my lungs. Dust billows past, clouding the dusk sky but clearing quickly.

               Careful, Barret lowers me onto the ground, the stabbing pain of my injury returning. “You alright? You passed out for a while.”

               Rubbing my eyes, I peer past him into the vast gaping hole where the Temple of the Ancients once stood. It doesn’t even compare to the emptiness creeping over me now.

               A sob rattles my chest.

               “Now that’s not a sight you see every day, eh?” 

               All gazes immediately fly back. Upon a large stuffed moogle stands a little crowned cat, proud of the entrance he’s made.

               Barret voices everyone’s confusion. “But you—we saw you!”

               His little boots meet the stone floor as he hops down. “If I popped my clogs, they’d be sobbin’ in the streets at the Saucer. This beautiful body’s but one of many!”

               The feline strolls right up to me, throwing his arms out, prepared for the embrace he knows I’m dying to give. Without hesitation, I snatch him up, arms tight and relieved tears flowing.

               Just as his face nuzzles against mine, I hear his words, soft and low.

               “You were his favorite.”

               My heart stops.

               He may look like Cait Sith, may talk and act like him—he may even have the same memories—but this is not my Cait Sith. We travelled and fought together. He was the one who spoke when I could not. He wove tales and sang lullabies when I was afraid to sleep. And now he’s well and truly gone.

               “Sephiroth.”

               This new Cait Sith gasps, wiggling free of my arms.

               “Get somewhere safe! Now!”

               I don’t protest or fight back when the massive moogle scoops me off the ground. Even as it hurries away, sending fresh waves of pain through my injured leg, I simply stare at the back of the cat, slowly coming to terms with the fact that I’d lost yet another person that I cared about.

#cait sith x reader #feels were promised #feels were DEFINITELY delivered #we imagined different things #but this is wonderful!! #cait sith #my cherished #my goofy little cat #silly little guy #that ending #just a stab right into the heart #and it crit #got teary-eyed honestly #the drama and angst #delicious #thank you sooooo much

[azurekisaragi]

some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.

[azurekisaragi]

ZIB. GET UP. YOU’RE *EMBARRASSING* ME

[azurekisaragi]

comm for @howlingmoonwastaken

[azurekisaragi]

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day four family✷.⁺⋆˚₊

semi-romantic fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | drabble | word count: 1,274.

The artificial daylight of Knowhere has gone from bright and pearly to bronze and slanted, and now it’s finally sunk low in velvet purples. The Star Kids don’t really have bedtimes because every adult here is a frickin’ pushover, so they’re dancing under the sleep-shift sky, all spangled and studded with tiny plasma orbs jingling on strings over the streets, glowing like warm white moons. 

It’s not an uncommon part of life on Knowhere — not anymore. Neither is the heartwrenchingly light laughter ringing out from the streets, from the rooftop bars, and from the second level of Mantlo’s, where the usual poker players have meandered out to the mezzanine in order to watch the celebration. 

Rocket leans back against the step where he’s slouched: tail flicking peacefully, ears swiveling to follow the sounds, nose twitching. The Star Kids smell like Indigarran peaches and moonlight, and there are lingering curls of Contraxian tobacco and Ssssaralami’s moonshine. The spiced fragrance of grilled orloni and yaro-stuffed pastries fill the streets. It’s all overlaid by a sugary scent: the bastardized Luphomoid honeycakes that you’d helped Nebula resurrect from her childhood, just especially for today.

Nobody knows when the Star Kids were born — if they were born at all — but you’d insisted there needed to be something to mark a birthday of sorts. 

Children need celebrations, you’d told him and Nebs one night over drinks, and Drax the Dad had enthusiastically concurred. And so this — the anniversary of the liberation of the Arête, of the children’s arrival on Knowhere — has suddenly become some sort of festival, some sort of revelry. Nearly every citizen of Knowhere is out on the streets: eating, dancing, singing, chattering. Ruffling the childrens’ hair. Steemie Blueliver has come down from the mezzanine, and the Star Kids take turns flipping themselves over his tree-trunk arms or letting him spin them over his head. Mantis had come back to visit — just for this, from the frickin’ ass-end of the universe — and she’d picked up Pete while she was at it. Both of them are laughing with Nebs and Kraglin, while Cosmo barks and prances in the center of a bright ring of giggling kids. A cluster of raccoons from the Arête watch from the rooftop of the laundromat: still young, but no longer babies. Their fur is glossy and their bodies are soft and round, and they keep an eye out for dropped street-food. 

And the music — the music is alive. It floats down the insides of Rocket’s bones: sweet and sparkling with little bubbles, like carbonated wine. 

Rocket takes another mouthful of his fruit-flavored milky-fizz — spiked with something you’d sneaked him before the festivities; you’d told him it was strawberry schnapps — and he watches. 

He catches it: the moment you clock him there on the steps. Your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, and it looks like you’ve got stardust in your lashes. You’re talking to Hoobtoe and Phloko, but you’ve only got eyes for him — warm, and inviting. He tilts his plastic carton toward you in a mockery of a toast, then clamps his teeth onto the straw and takes another sip. The skull’s ventilation systems kick on and a breeze sweeps delicately through the streets, teasing the scents of food and booze, and playing with the fibrous platinum strands of the Star Kids’ hair. Each child’s head is gleaming: pale and reflecting back dapples of radiance. Rocket swears that everywhere he looks — the tiny candles on the honeycakes, the plasma-orb string-lights, the wide eyes of the kids, and you — he can see halos and rays of light. Soft starbursts, and luminous, hazy hexagons. Little motes of crushed-up bone-dust, dancing in and out of the shadows like antigravity glitter.

A little curl of concern shows between your brows as you toss him another glance — he’d guess it’s hard for you to read him right now, because his eyeshine is probably throwing all that gorgeous light back at you. Like rubies, you’d told him once, which had probably been when he’d first started falling in love with you, if he’s being honest. Now, dazzling in the gold and shadow, you laugh at something Hoobtoe says, and you pat Phloko’s shoulder before weaving away from them — smiling at Xlomo Smeth and Ssssaralami, nodding your greetings while you walk past. You pause at the little table still stacked high with honeycakes.

And then make your way toward Rocket.

You tuck yourself next to him on the step, even when he doesn’t move — content to stay half-sprawled next to you, his arm draped casually across the stair behind your back. He looks up at you with his ruby-eyes, and then down at the honeycake in your hands. It’s got one of those teeny candles in it, lit up like a piece of amber held to the sun. You’re glowing in the gold of it,  warm and apple-cheeked — eyes all glimmery, just for him. 

“You okay?” you ask carefully.

He turns his eyes back to the streets so his heart doesn’t fall apart like the overblown petals of an autumn flower in his chest. The scene there doesn’t help though: everything is as warm as fresh-baked bread. Groot’s joined Steemie, tossing the kids in the air. Even Howard’s come down from the mezzanine, awkwardly patting the head of a child who’s taller than he is, while he tries to protect his cocktail from the jumble of bodies. Rocket eyes him, then snorts and shakes his head. A soft huff leaves his mouth: too short to be a chuckle, too affectionate to be a scoff.

“I’m good,” he rasps out. “Just thinkin’.”

“About what?” 

The corner of his mouth curves in a perplexed, uncertain little smile, like his head hasn’t caught up with the rest of reality. “‘Bout how I used to think I wanted to be alone.” 

He sips his milky-fizz. The strawberry schnapps warm his belly. Howard would love this shit, Rocket thinks. 

He reminds himself not to let the guy near it. 

“Why’d you bring that over?” he asks, nodding at the candlelit honeycake cupped in your palms. 

You reach toward him with it, lifting it for him: a sugar-sweet little offering. “Today is your day, too, you know.” 

He blinks up at you, a protest filling his mouth before he pauses and tilts his head consideringly. 

He supposes you’re right. He supposes he had been trapped on the Arête, for far longer than he’d realized. 

“Okay,” he says mildly, and he can see the way you startle at how agreeable he sounds right now. He shrugs, sets down the milky-fizz on the step between his feet, and takes the cake in his hand. “What’s with the candle?”

“Pete brought them,” you  tell him. “It’s a birthday tradition on Terra. A candle for every year.” You smile at him. “When you blow it out, you make a wish.”

He looks up at you, and then out at the wide glimmering lake of people, all shadow and shimmer. He turns the golden cake in his hand like he’s studying it: trying to read something in the fruit-infused icing and the amber-glow flame. Then he turns his eyes out again to the people of Knowhere: music and mirth and the joy of belonging. And from this angle — up close, and unhidden by eye shine — you can see the moment when ironic amusement turns into something just a shade off of wonder. 

His fingers are usually so quick you can barely follow them — but now he reaches up with his other hand, almost lazily, and casually pinches out the wisp of candleflame. 

“I think I’m good on wishes, actually.”

there's that critical mass word-count. i personally think it is very cool of me that i took till thursday to break a thousand.

day three. emotionalistic ✷ day five. machinery rocket raccoon prompt week list

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

#rocket raccoon x reader #how did this one get even better than the last?? #phenomenal

[azurekisaragi]

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day three emotionalistic ✷.⁺⋆˚₊

fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | drabble | word count: 570.

There are only a few hours, pinned somewhere deep in the sleep shift right before Knowhere’s artificial dawn, that the streets are relatively empty and quiet. Rocket’s sleep schedule is erratic at best, but you know — of all the times in the rotation — this is when he’s most likely to be awake.

You find him out on the observation deck, alone — perched with his feet hanging over the ledge, only an arm span from the intangible barrier that shields the entire city and its manufactured atmosphere from the inhospitable void of space. It’s like a bubble, you think — protecting everything inside. 

You don’t try to quiet your footsteps, knowing Rocket can probably identify you by your stride alone, and by the smell of your hair. The tempo of your heart, even — at least from this distance. And any effort to be quiet would only raise his hackles, ping those deeply-hidden instincts of his that are always on the alert for bigger predators.

“Hey, stranger,” you say instead, and lower yourself to the ledge beside him. You’re not quite brave enough or foolish enough to hang your feet off the edge with him — you’re not sure how the fabricated gravity would work in this situation, but you know the vertigo is real. 

“Hey,” he grunts, and takes a swallow of the blubber ale he’s been nursing since Mantlo’s closed a couple hours earlier. Wordlessly, he offers you the bottle, and you tilt your head before accepting. 

You regret it immediately.

“What the fuck is that? Battery acid?”

He snickers but doesn’t say anything, accepting the bottle back one-handedly — burning red eyes still locked on a distant asterism. Minutes tread past on whisper-soft feet. Silently, the two of you watch the stars swirl by: the sweeping clouds of stardust, the quiet moons. 

“Why’re you here?” he rasps at last. His voice brushes against the sky: velvet on velvet, broken only by a scattering of crushed-up diamond dust. 

You shrug. “Thought you might be lonely.”

He snorts, and the sound is bitter. “Only when I’m breathing.” 

“Mm,” you acknowledge, trying not to show him the twist in your ribs at his response. “Well, then. I guess I’ll keep trying to keep you company, if you keep trying to keep breathing.”

He tilts his head and leans against the lower railing. “Only if you bring drinks next time.”

“Sure,” you say easily. “I’d better. Otherwise we’re just gonna end up punishing ourselves with blubber ale.”

He huffs something close to a laugh, except it sounds like it hurts. 

The silence grows, and the quiet of the dark sky curls into your bones. There’s the muted slosh of Rocket’s drink, and the occasional clink of his claws on the glass. An hour passes — maybe more — and he makes a stifled little sound, so deep behind his collarbones that you’re not even sure he knows it’s escaped. You cast a sideways glance at him, and you can see the silvering on the rim of his eyes, the glassy tracks of tears underneath his fur: gleaming rivers in nighttime forests. 

His eyes slant up to yours, and he winces when he sees you noticing. But you don’t say anything. You only lean back on your hands and sway to one side, bumping his shoulder gently with your warm upper arm, creating a little intangible barrier of your own — a bubble around you and Rocket, protecting everything inside. 

for the first time in the history of the universe my word count went down between prompts. holy shit

day two. hurts. ✷ day four. family. rocket raccoon prompt week list

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

#rocket raccoon x reader #beautiful

[azurekisaragi]

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[azurekisaragi]

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[azurekisaragi]

happy birthday, my little golden autumn leaf ೃ⁀➷*ੈ✩₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:•

rocket has only the vaguest concept of what a birthday is. a lot of intergalactic cultures share similar rite-of-passage traditions, but nothing is quite the same — plus, birthdays are based on the terran calendar, which is not something he ever uses if he can help it. it’s such a stupid and limited system for measuring & marking time, after all.

so when he overhears that it’s your birthday today, you have to re-explain some of the basics.

“so that’s it,” he deadpans. “you literally just gotta be born, and people celebrate you.”

“well,” you say slowly. “the idea is that the people celebrating you really are happy you were born. happy you exist. that you’ve survived another trip around the sun, i guess. all the chaos and random chance in the universe, through space and time, and they happened to cross paths with you, at just this moment.”

“weird,” he scoffs, but something flickers in his eye.

and you know, in your gut, exactly what it is.

so you tell him you’ve gotta run an errand on your way back from class, and out you go. you’ll celebrate with friends later, but this takes precedence. you stop at the store while you’re returning home, and pick out the best cake you can find. not all cakes are created equally, of course — but this. this is a flawless fuckin cake. you can tell as soon as you see it: the ideal amount of moisture, the perfect proportions of fluffiness and density. layered with scrumptious-looking fillings and topped with draping garlands of frosting. you can just tell it’s gonna be the best thing either of you have ever tasted.

you get home and open the box of candles right as rocket saunters into the kitchenette: curiosity and the desire for your company, masquerading as nonchalance.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, hooking the clawed toes of one foot onto the handle of a bottom drawer. he uses it to leverage himself twelve inches higher and peer over the edge of the counter.

“birthday tradition where i grew up,” you tell him. “how old are you, anyway?”

he shrugs. “in terran years? who frickin knows?” he frowns, watching as you fill the top of the cake with slender, colorful candles. “not even sure on the universal multicalendar,” he admits after a minute. “don’t know how long i was on counterearth, before.”

you hum a note of acknowledgement and pull out the lighter. “so the tradition is: a candle for each year you’ve been alive,” you tell him as you snap a little golden flame to life, sheltered against your palm as you set fire to each wick. “then people sing at you — badly —and you make a wish in your head and blow out the candles. and if you get them all out on your first try, your wish’ll come true.”

he snorts derisively. “okay.”

“i guess it’s a little stupid,” you concede. “but it’s nice.”

he doesn’t respond, but you can see his eyes are locked on the cake, and the tiny flickering embers are reflecting gold and garnets in his eyes.

“hit the lights for me?” you ask him.

he rolls his eyes. “you terrans really go all out for this shit,” he gripes, but he steps down and strolls across the room, hands slouched into pockets before he leaps up to slap the lightswitch.

you turn with the cake in your hands and carry it to the little table. he joins you — slowly, now, eyes flickering into flat copper coins and fire-opal cabochons. his face is painted with gold and velvet-purple shadows, and he’s entranced by this pretty, glowing mountain of sugar you’ve built: a little cathedral of sweetness and fire and wishes. it’s autumn-cold outside, dusky and wind-blown, scuttling leaves and evening clouds — but here in the kitchenette, everything is a patchwork quilt of rosy warmth and closeness, and rocket’s eyes are full of a kind of wistful awe — not that he’d ever admit it.

“make a wish, dude,” you tell him. he blinks, and it takes him a couple tries, but he tears his eyes away from the cake and candles to look up at you.

“what?”

it’s your turn to shrug. “i decided we’re sharing a terran birthday now. you and me. every year. so make a wish and we’ll blow the candles out together.”

he blinks at you, then at the cake, and then back at you.

“you better hurry,” you tell him. “otherwise we’re gonna get wax in the frosting.”

“why?” he asks hoarsely. there’s something urgent and aching in his voice, and it cuts you open a little bit. you shrug again.

“‘cause i’m happy you were born,” you tell him honestly. “glad that you exist and you’ve survived everything you’ve survived. and that you’re here now. with me.”

his eyes return to the cake — slowly. “all the chaos and random chance in the universe,” he quotes you, like the whole thing has him mystified and maybe a little perplexed. like the idea that you’re grateful for knowing him is an alien concept, but — needed. so needed.

“yup,” you agree.

“huh,” he utters softly. thoughtfully.

and then he inhales deeply and blows out all the candles at once.

you sputter on a laugh. “what the fuck, dude? we were supposed to blow ‘em out together.”

it’s dark, but there’s enough light filtering in that you can see him grinning up at you. “just wanted a guarantee on this frickin wish.” you can see his tail swishing behind him in the dark. “‘sides. i was promised bad singing, too.”

@lilfoxay ♡ i do realize im making a lot of assumptions with this but i hope you enjoy it anyway ♡ and that your birthday is absolutely delightful, and that your year brings you all the lovely little things you deserve, and that life just keeps getting better and better and better as you go. may every day bring you more loving people, more peaceful moments, more good food. may your future be full of happy adventures, beautiful books, plentiful inspiration — and the time & energy to write your words, the support & encouragement you need to share them. may you have so many opportunities for joy that sometimes it hurts in only the very best of ways.

i am glad you were born. i am happy you exist. i am grateful that you’ve survived everything you’ve e survived and that, in all the chaos and random chance in the universe, through all of space and time, we happened to cross paths. i consider myself very fortunate for that ♡♡

#blessed #i loved it #thank you so much for making this!

[azurekisaragi]

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