#&joy

[raccoonfallsharder]

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 ♡♡

[raqualswonderfunblog]

[hopepunk-humanity]

You’ve heard of “don’t monetize your hobbies”; get ready for "don’t master your hobbies".

Your hobbies are here to help you decompress and have fun. They do not have to be disciplines you toil over for expertise, unless that is something you genuinely enjoy doing.

It’s okay to enjoy language-learning without ever becoming fluent, or even conversational. It’s okay to like playing guitar even if you only know a few clumsy songs. You can read books and never finish them, bowl without ever scoring even halfway to perfect. We’re here to explore and play, and we cannot do that if we’re chasing perfection in everything we do.

[bulbabutt]

i don't know the etiquette for posting other peoples tiktoks but the delivery of this punchline hit me like a FUCKING TRUCK please

NikhilClayton <- you should follow this guy on tiktok he's fucking hilarious

[victusinveritas]

[altades]

he's like her pokemon

Also! I'm taking commissions, dm if interested

[spooksier]

young artist posting your work online, heed my warning. im holding your face so gently in my hands, you have to stop caring about numbers right now and start caring about making the weirdest and most self-indulgent art you possibly can

[almondpiglet]

ppl were drawing mikus from all over so heres habesha miku and her lil twin sibs rin and len!!

[paradoxolotl]

[plushiebi]

i don’t know. i’m barely a person. i just want to be kind and hold someone’s hand. eat an ice cream cone. stare at the lake. feel the sun on my skin. lay in the grass. run through a sprinkler. it’s so easy to forget life is supposed to feel like a deep breath and not a gasp

[raqualswonderfunblog]

[feral-ballad]

Joy Sullivan, from Instructions for Traveling West: Poems; “Instructions for Traveling West”

[shutinthenutouse]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[valtsv]

"you will look for themes and motifs in media that isn't worth the effort" i will look for themes and motifs in the dirt. on the ground.