#not really a headcanon but

[raccoonfallsharder]

I think I just realized based off of one of your reblogs that one of the biggest reasons I like Rocket so much is because his backstory is too fucking relatable for me

i have too many reblogs to know which one you are referring to but

i think a lot of us who love rocket do so because some part of us relates to him. i'm not saying that we feel like we are rocket (though some of us probably do) but there's a sorrowful number of people out there who know what it's like to feel unloved, unappealing, unworthy; who have been convinced (or who have convinced ourselves) that we are too ugly or petty or small or flawed to be truly accepted or to deserve acceptance; who have been alone for so long or hurt so bad that we fear togetherness; who have gifts that have gone unappreciated by those closest to us; who have had our trust betrayed by those who should have protected us; who have held ourselves up to impossible and arbitrary standards. and that's not even beginning to count those of us who have chronic pain, chronic illness, visible or stigmatizing injuries and appearances, visible or invisible disabilities, and/or just don't feel at home in our own bodies. it doesn't count those of us with some version of survivors' guilt, or those of us who have felt like we used to have people to save before we failed them.

maybe this is why (imo) the folks in the rocket fandom so often to prove to be some of the kindest and most empathetic folks on the internet

when i (we?) write rocket getting an opportunity to heal - to give kindness or love and to be able to receive it - i heal something in myself, too. selfishly, grandiosely, i hope i get to offer a little healing to other folks, too.

and. beautiful blazing bby firebird. not to be, like, combative lol but tbh it's not surprising to me that someone who identifies with the idea of a phoenix would also identify with rocket. literally his whole arc is about rising from the ashes

anyway all this to say, rocket is deeply relatable and you are in very good company if you relate to him, darling sunshine. and i believe in you. i believe that you'll find ways to overcome the things you've gone through. i believe you'll work through the impossible standards and self-doubt you've placed on yourself, and the bad things that were done to you by others. and i believe that you deserve good things - like connection and community and joy. and if you don't already know that - if you're not yet at the end of your volume three - i believe you'll get there someday too. and if you DO know that, then i'm so glad your dog days are over, bby.

[screenviolense]

thinking about how funny it would be if laura’s eye didn’t heal and she still went on to be a vet. taking your doggy in for a checkup and the vet has a clear clawmark and eye patch covering it. you have to wonder what her other patients have done

[bumblingbabooshka]

Vulcan teen on Vulcan [tiktok] saying "I have just lost track of my father in the grocery store." The camera turns to show the viewers the grocery store in which almost every single older middle-aged man has a bowlcut and long robes. Camera turns back to show the teen's face which is expressionless and yet communicates all it needs to.

[t2316m]

Tim Drake has a hatred for Sherlock Holmes, has he ever read the books? No but his dad used to insultingly call him Sherlock as a kid when he was being too nosy or curious and now even when people say it as a compliment it just irks him

Jason being the resident classic literature nerd is dead set on at least having Tim read the books so he can either A. Actually like the books and accept that Sherlock is actually a pretty cool guy to be compared too, or B. Give actual tasteful criticism and insults based on the contents of the book

Jason could care less which happens he’s just tired of Tim ranting about his hatred for Sherlock despite not knowing a thing about Sherlock

——

Tim: Sherlock this, Sherlock that, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that stupid hat

Jason: The hat really isn’t even mentioned in the books, You’d know if you read them

Tim: I’m not reading them, they really can’t be that good in fact Sherlock was so bad even his literal creator wanted nothing to do with him

Jason: Your dad wanted nothing to do with you and you’re still a pretty good detective

*Cue Dick yelling at Jason cause “that wasn’t nice”

[rachelfc-art]

Princess in Shining Armor

[littlediscoveredstars]

Headcanon that Jim Gordon used to think Dick’s real name was just Robin. It’s not an unusual name honestly, and there’s nothing particularly bird about his outfit, so Gordon thought nothing more about it when they first met.

Gordon: “Uh, kid, this is a crime scene-“

Dick, hands on his hips (and no pants):“My name is Robin!”

Gordon catches Batman’s frown and assumes it’s because Robin isn’t being careful enough about his name.

But time goes on and no one finds out where the kid lives, so Gordon lets it slide. He’s a cute kid, if a little intense, but it’s fun to watch him grow up with Barbara (yes, he knows about batgirl. Yes, he chewed Batman out for it but decided to ultimately ignore it like everything else).

But then a new Robin comes in. This is a kid again, not a full adult like he was a year ago.

Gordon: “Hey, Batman? What happened to Robin?”

Batman: “This is Robin.” He sounds so unbothered, like he doesn’t realize this is a completely different kid!

Gordon’s concern for this half-mad vigilante skyrockets. Batman has convinced himself that this kid is the same as the first. He’s going through it and the mental gymnastics are more than Gordon can take.

So, he lets it go.

But then that Robin disappears and Batman’s acting up. Nightwing shows up a few times and it never really helps things. Gordon’s getting more headaches than smoke breaks and at this point, he’s really to pull the plug on this whole bat business.

But then Robin comes back again and Gordon’s has it. He confronts this kid, fully prepared to push through whatever gaslighting’s been happening, only for Tim to look at him like he’s stupid.

Gordon: “Kid, who are you really? Because the Robin I met graduated collage years ago and the one after that is dead!”

Tim, with the most judge mental look physically possible: “Commissioner…Robin’s my hero name.”

Gordon: “…Your hero name?”

Tim: “Yeah. I’m Robin, like the bird. Batman and Robin. Heroes. Why would I go around using my real name? That would be stupid and dangerous.”

And Gordon has to call off for the rest of the day, he’s so pissed.

[wanologic]

reminder to take care of your loser human body

[neuro-psyche]

I think Dick and Jason would have multiple “what the actual fuck are you saying right now” with Tim and Damian when it comes to quality of life/monetary differences. Sure, Dick and Jason got used to Bruce’s “is $100 a good enough tip on a $30 bill?” shit, but hearing Tim talking about a new laptop he bought for $5000 literally is like a punch in the gut.

If they ever went on a cruise (which they totally wouldn’t because cruises are floating death traps), Jason and Dick would be in awe of the fancy amenities, where as Damian would be unsatisfied with the quality, since he grew up with every single amenity known to man. Tim would just feel like it’s all normal since the Drake’s were extravagant and travelled all over the planet.

Jason : My bedroom is bigger than my fucking apartment.

Dick : I could do a full gymnastics routine with the space in my room.

Tim :

Dick :

Tim : My room is normal sized…

Jason : You grew up in a mega mansion. I hardly think you’re the benchmark of a normal room-

Damian : I must agree with Drake. This room is frankly underwhelming.

Dick, staring wildly at him : What do you mean underwhelming- Dames there’s an aquarium wall in your room.

Damian : Yes. Underwhelming.

Jason :

Dick :

Jason : Do you want to-

Dick : Jump off the boat? Yes.

[24bughours]

Happy pride, have a half formed idea i had at 2 am

[turnaboutstar]

THE TRIPS TO EUROPE TO SEE EDGEWORTH ARE ACTUALLY CANON????? I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A RANDOM THING PEOPLE HEADCANONED

[nothing-impt]

I love how the Epic community all unanimously agreed that Athena and Dionysus don't understand how humans are born

(Telemachus just fell down a flight of steps)

[freefallintothevoid]

The real reason everyone makes fun of Dicks Discowing outfit is because he's the only one that can somehow pull it off

Every superhero and vigilante has has a costume like that at some point, something daring or a bit ridiculous that in hindsight that they just couldn't make work for whatever reason. Nightwing? The pretty motherfucker not only made it work, he slayed in that outfit. It looks ridiculous by itself on display in the batcave but not when Nightwing puts it on

The only reason Dick doesn't know this is because all his siblings have collectively gaslit him into thinking that it's his worst costume to date.

[remxedmoon]

yknow i think their cloak should be a little stained actually. just a little.

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[bunnieswithknives]

As much as I love angst I think it would be funny if he just didnt give af

[shadow4-1]

"Can you just pretend to love me tonight? Please?"

Simon's never gotten a request like this before.

He's never had any qualms about selling his body. Whether it was for his cock, units of his blood plasma, or his war honed body. He's always done what he's had to - anything to stay off the streets and keep a full belly.

The girls who've paid him always wanted a brute, someone to mount them and take them for all they were worth. That was what he was used to, not some doe-eyed sweet thing begging him to be gentle.

"I want to feel loved." You admit, leaning back on the motel bed, thighs crossed in nervousness. "I um...I know I'm not very pretty-"

Simon leans forward on his knees and kisses you gently. Well, he tries to. The tip of your teeth graze painfully together as he mouths you. You squeak beneath him, hands going up to his shoulders to try and push him off on rabbit instinct. He pulls his mouth off of you just enough to mutter an apology.

"Sorry." He swallows.

You look up at him with impeccably beautiful eyes brimming with tears. You seem to finally understand there's nothing gentle about him even when he tries to be. Simon wants you to call him off, send him out of the cheap hotel. He knows he can't be as sweet at you want - as you deserve. He's just physically not built for that. At least, he's sure of it nowadays. He has a brief memory of holding his newborn nephew but it slips away just as quickly as it came.

"Can we just...go slow?" You ask again. Simon can hear the waver in your voice. You're unsure if you want to continue, but you seem to trust him for some reason. "Really, really slow?"

"Yeah."

He can do slow. He can do glacial. If there's one thing he can do, it's be measured, methodical. He wasn't a Lieutenant for nothing.

For the first time in years, he takes his time. He's used to the fast paced, hungry fucks that pay his rent in thirty minutes. This is...new, not wholly uninvited. He kisses down your collarbone, down the swell of your breasts. He nips at the lacy fabric (you dressed up for him when he was expecting just to rip it all off) as he makes his way down further. He laps at the skin beneath your belly button, making your belly flutter. Ticklish. He likes that.

Simon noses his way between your thighs, easily spreads your legs with his thick forearms. As he kisses down your cloth covered mound he admits he likes how you smell. Usually the taste of women turns him off. He prefers men, but desperate women pay more. You're desperate alright, although its a different type of desperation. Something about the nervous wetness staining your new panties has his cock jumping in his trousers. He presses his nose to the fabric, inhales deeply, and relishes in your shy squeak. Simon starts to understand your desire.

You want to be explored, mapped, and consumed slowly. You want to give up control but feel as if you can stop at any moment. You want to be seen, tasted, then completely devoured.

Instead of slipping your panties to the side, he licks his way down your thighs. You squeal and try to squirm away from the sudden sensation but he doesn't stop. He kisses down your calves and across the top of your feet. His hands are so large that they wrap around your soles completely. Simon pushes them up until they're up by your ears. He knows the position is uncomfortable for you, but he likes the view of your soft, cloth covered mound.

He nips at the back of your ankles and calves, licks down the expanse of your thighs, ans nuzzles into the gusset of your panties. Simon relishes in the squeaks and gasps ans twitches of your expectant body. It's been so long since he's teased someone, much less a sweet lil' thing like you.

Your scent is heady, comforting, nothing like he's experienced before. He finds he really likes just inhaling you in. You whimper, thighs shaking already. He hasn't even licked you yet. Simon finally admits to himself that you're stroking his ego.

He plants a firm, sweet kiss to your cloth covered cunt. The fabric is practically soaked through. He can smell your taste on the tips of his lips. His curiosity wins. He takes a firm, long lick from bottom to top. Simon tastes you, but also the flowery tang of your favorite fabric softener. You taste good. He wants more.

Simon finally releases his hold on your thighs. On instinct, or perhaps strain, they fall apart. You try to sit up but he tugs your body further towards the edge of the bed. He can feel the tension in his old knees from kneeling, but he ignores it. You've opened up your body to him. He wants to take full advantage of it.

Simon goes back to lapping at your clothed cunt. He doesn't stop until his tongue is raw from brushing repeatedly over the stitches. Drool drips down his chin.

"Off."

You huff in confusion, trying to sit up. Instead. With too easy of a tug, off come your panties. There you are. Simon knows he should slow his movements but he doesn't care. You haven't stopped him yet, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get those sweet lips in his mouth. He spreads you apart with his middle and forefinger. You're a sight to behold. Perhaps not pornstar perfect anatomy, but you're delicious looking nonetheless. He eyes your glistening, dripping slit. As bad as he wants to force his tomgue deep inside you, instead he presses a firm kiss to the hood of your clit. You jolt, trying to back away or pull him closer, he can't tell.

Simon follows your movement. He mouths hungrily at your clit, flattens his tongue and practically drools against it. He laps at you with a muted fervor. He doesn't want to hurt you. He can tell you're sensitive. It must've been awhile since the last time you'd had a man willingly do this for you. A damn shame.

Your shaky little moans are like music to Simon's ears. He follows them like a map. He circles your clit, traces the entrance of your hood, even dips lower to tease the sides of your inner lips. You seem to like that alot based on the sounds you make. He sucks on your inner wings and you squeal, thighs wrapping hard around the sides of his head. He does it again and and again until you're hiccuping in delight. Your slick drips down his chin and throat. You're such a good girl for him.

Simon knows he's going to make you cum, it's just a matter of time and technique. He has both on his side. He uses his other hand to pet at your entrance. He tries to commit your anatomy to memory, and so he takes his time dipping the pads of his fingers against your fluttering slit. Despite it obviously having been awhile, your cunt holds no resistance. In fact, it practically swallows up the tip of his middle finger. Fuck yeah, that's what he likes to see.

With measured ease, Simon slips his whole finger inwards and upwards inside of you. You keen and gasp and he can feel your insides twitching. You're tight. So tight he can feel his finger already starting to cramp up from the resistance.

If he's going to fuck you right he's still got some work to do.