orion

mcu rocket

for the most part, mcu rocket simply uses a sonic-shower when he can. almost every ship he steals — and certainly every one he builds — has one. he loves a hot water-shower, but until he figures out how to make an H2O converter, it's just a waste of a limited resource in space. also, given the thickness of his pelt, he has to dry his fur unless he wants to be a soggy mess for the rest of the day — and that tends to dry out his skin, since he doesn't invest in nice fur-and-skin products. some of it's a self-punishment, but he's also a criminal who's basically constantly on the run, so he tends to live light. a couple-dozen collapsible guns, an extra jumpsuit, and groot. that's all he needs.

it gets rough when he doesn't have access to even a sonic-shower, though. sometimes he's reduced to grooming his fur with his tongue like an animal. and even though it leaves his coat feeling glossier and fuller than any other product he's ever used, he still feels dirty afterward — knowing how people would judge him if they knew.

once he puts down roots in the bony, calcium-rich soil of knowhere, things shift a little. he invests his time in building himself a working water-shower with a blast-dryer long before he ever thinks about a real bed. he keeps a little shelf with some nice fur-oil next to his fur-and-skin moisturizing shampoo, and his dental-pick and polish. still, it isn't till after volume three that he starts to allow himself to enjoy things. he finishes his new bathtub around the same time he — reluctantly, begrudgingly — invests in a mattress. and while he's always known how much he enjoys being submerged in water — he's even sometimes wondered if he might have been a swimmer if not for all the metal in his body that now makes him less-than-bouyant — he suddenly realizes there's nothing quite like a bath.

so while his morning and evening rituals remain largely pragmatic — brushing the lint and dust from his fur, keeping his sharp teeth bright and white and clean, taking a shower when he can and oiling his fur to keep it glossy and bright, moisturizing his skin underneath — bathing is one of his secret indulgences. it's the first thing he does once the bowie has docked and the systems have been checked and nebs has been debriefed, and he can slink off to his apartment.

after all — nothing is more relaxing than a good, hot bath after a day of fixing knowhere's internal engines, saving a distant planet from a despotic ruler, and trying to keep track of phylla (overzealous little genius) and adam (overzealous enormous himbo). his tail splashes the water and he rests his head against the edge of the tub. i like to imagine he wears one of those soft headbands with the big bow in front (in pink, of course) to keep his fur from dripping condensation in his eyes. bubbles are a bit of a pain to wash out of his fur — though he does secretly love them — but he has a growing collection of little glass bottles of muscle-soothing salts instead. he puts something chill on the zune — maybe lights a few candles he picked up on indigarr — and all his knotted limbs loosen in the encompassing warmth. the old aches and pains from his surgeries and prosthetics melt away, and his stress dissolves in the steam like a dream he can barely remember.

eidos rocket

most of the other rockets haven't had to rough it quite the same way that mcu rocket has, but eidos rocket in particular is at the other end of the spectrum when it comes to making up for lost time. he's by far the most vain of the rockets — always has been. even when he was still on halfworld, he cleaned his teeth and brushed his tail religiously before bed. looking good and grooming himself were ways that he could feel in-control and proud of himself, even when everything else was absolute shit.

once he's out in the greater universe — free — the physical comfort of good hygiene and self-care become more elaborate and more ritualistic. every night, he brushes out and oils his fur. a hundred strokes for his tail alone, just to make sure he gets every speck of dust and lint and shed strand of hair. he does the same with his beard and the fur on his head, though far fewer strokes are necessary. then he uses warm, wet towels to dampen both before massaging in his custom-made fur-and-skin tonic (based on a beard-oil he'd stolen from a spartaxian mark right after he got off halfworld). every morning, he cleans his teeth carefully, and brushes his fur till it shines again, and skillfully rebraids his silky beard, grinning as he makes sure each bead is perfectly positioned for maximum charm. The he settles his goggles atop his head, and cocks them to one side, and smirks at his reflection.

yeah. he knows he's hot.

once a cycle, he tries to do some deep-conditioning, too — assuming whatever the gardeners are doing allows for the time and attention, that is. cleans his fur thoroughly, then steams in the little sauna he'd initially built for drax and gamora after they've been training. washes with water and some special fur-glossing shampoo that he steals whenever he can and buys whenever he has to. oils up and wraps himself in towels, then rinses it all out and conditions with more expensive products. rocket knows expensive things aren't always high-quality things, but he likes both and he doesn't deny himself either.

plus, the whole event is like an aromatherapy session, and since he's currently not inclined toward talk-therapy, he figures this has to suffice for now.

rivals rocket

rivals rocket is almost as invested in his self-care as eidos rocket, though it shows up in different ways and for different reasons. while self-care for eidos rocket has been a way to maintain control and confidence when he was imprisoned, rivals rocket sees it as a way to remind himself and everyone else that he isn't some kind of stupid animal, and that he deserves better than to be tested on and ripped apart and experimented upon. so it's not only a way of maintaining his health and relaxing; it's also deeply connected to a defense of his identity. if he has to skip a day, he'll be fine, but he's also going to figure out a way to continue practicing self-care routines as often as possible, even when the environment is rough and he has to be creative.

but when all is well, rivals rocket starts every morning with a quick, brisk shower — a luxury not afforded to him in his previous life — and a rigorous dental-cleaning, since his pearly-white canines are a source of pride. he likes to intimidate people by flashing a wide, sharp, shit-eating smirk, and he doesn't want anything to detract from how clean and dangerous his bite would be. he picks and polishes, and probably uses two different kinds of mouthwash: one for killing bacteria, and another for strengthening enamel — and he never-ever forgets to floss. in fact, this guy probably even carries a travel-pick and some dental-gel in one of those pouches he keeps on his person at all times. he loves the feeling of his mouth being cold and clean, which was another rarity before he gained his freedom.

rivals rocket also focuses as much on the thick crop of fur atop his head as he does on his tail, hitting both with a glossing-spray after he shakes off as much water as he can (unlike mcu-rocket, this guy uses only a hand-dryer on a cool-setting to get rid of any excess dampness on his body). he likes to run his fingers through the fur that droops into his eyes: massaging his own scalp, tugging at the roots, then pulling gently on the luxurious strands. it's almost as grounding as the mint in his mouth.

then, in possibly the most-critical part of his waking-up routine, rivals rocket slants himself a wink in the mirror, flashes his sharp canines, and gives himself finger-guns before heading out the hatch.

skottie young rocket

now, skottie young's rocket has no ritual at all — mostly because he is bad at consistency in any form. this guy's the one who just brushes his teeth in the shower whenever he wakes up. why waste water on an extra task, you know? and it's easier for him to remember everything if he does it all at once. sometimes he remembers to clean his teeth before bed, too, but his sleep-habits leave something to be desired anyway. he's as likely to fall asleep in the engine room as he is in the cockpit, and twice as likely to fall asleep in either of those places versus actually making it down to his bunk. to compensate, he always pops a dental-hygiene tab after every meal, trusting that it’ll do its job in breaking down any left-behind matter and bad bacteria. to be honest, this actually probably means he has the best dental hygiene of all the rockets, even if it is basically on-accident.

that said — when he remembers — this rocket does use a special silk-lined wrap that he stole from fron. the fur-covered fronnish locals would sleep in warmth-generating flannels and fleeces, but a lot of their clothing had satiny linings to protect their fur from pulling or breaking while they slept. rocket keeps the one he stole specifically for his tail (and as a souvenir), and he uses it whenever he remembers to.

after all, the babes LOVE the tail, you know?

ewing, rosenberg, et al rocket

finally — the ewing, rosenberg, et al rocket. (as he would say, we've saved the best for last this time.) this guy has always enjoyed the finer things in life. he uses good-quality, scentless shampoos and conditioners, and he cleans his claws and teeth meticulously. he'll even do a deep conditioning for his fur when he thinks of it. but unlike the other rockets, the most important element to his self-care routine is anything that supports his sleep. he uses an eyemask to block out excess light — especially since his eyeshine tends to pick up so much of it. no earplugs or headphones, though — it's important to him that his sharp ears can pick up any change in the ship's systems, even while he sleeps. and though he wouldn't say he has a collection, he does like to indulge himself in comfy pajamas on occasion. pete once brought him some from earth that had a rocket-ship on the shirt, and they're some of his favorites. this rocket always tries to wind down with some quiet hours behind the flight controls before bed, making sure to kick everyone else out of the cockpit so that it's just him, the sky, the ship, and the stars.

well. he kicks out everyone — except you, i think. i like to imagine that, even though it took a while for this rocket to warm up to you, you're now probably his favorite person on board, on par with groot. after all, you were the one to introduce him to sleepytime teas: chamomiles and lavenders, lemonbalms and peppermints. you've taken to brewing you both a cup every night, maybe adding a little vanilla syrup or some honey, too. you bring both mugs into the cockpit, steam wafting up around you into the cool blue shadows, and rocket leans back so he can swivel the copilot's seat toward you, taking his cup with claws that clink against the ceramic.

i love to think that this is a new ritual, shared between the two of you as you relax before bed, together:

shared tea, and a sea of the stars, and the sweetest of sweet dreams on their way.

here are the fan-art links i promised you, too!

rocket's bathtime rituals

rocket in pajamas (baby and full-grown rockets pictured here)

rocket sleeps with a stuffie

rocket just enjoying some flowers

rocket is comfy in his crocs