#'calloused hands heavy hearts' is nice but im not sure it quite fits?

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

Behind every great warrior woman is another woman who is choosing kindness. For now.

#this is about io & laezel #ive been thinking about their dynamic esp since i plan on having them go do the whole revolution thing #also trying to workshop their tag/title/ship name #'calloused hands heavy hearts' is nice but im not sure it quite fits? #silver is a throughline b/c of the silver swords and eilistraee #some of the taglines have clicked immediately and some of them are. not doing that #but ive been thinking about these two w/in the healer x warrior framework #and how their backgrounds affect that #io *knows* how to fight. they're always ready for that possibility (eventuality really) since. you know. #holy war anti-lolth rebellion etc etc #but they were *exclusively* a healer pre-game. they hadn't even really left the baldur's gate area #and also. the importance of both warriors *and* healers during revolutions and rebellions #literally and figuratively #those on the front lines will run out of steam quickly without people supporting & sustaining them #something something kindness is not softness. softness is not weakness. weakness is not a moral wrong #something something a hard stone will grind itself to dust without something to cushion it #both io & lae'zel have calloused hands if for different reasons #one set of skills is not more important than the other. they compliment each other even #'new growth'? maybe? you can't grow a garden w/o both pulling up weeds and carefully tending to it #idk if this makes sense but. i am turning them around in my head #sticking them under a microscope #bg3 #bg3 tav #my post #jay rambles #io dein #(im having trouble with their epithet too but that's a ramble for another time) #woman* (nb woman. she's trans femme and her gender shifts around a bit. 'woman' is the cliffnotes version)

[sevi007]

(Little something for Tullk that wouldn’t fit into a fic on it’s own. Mostly headcanon, spoilers for Volume 2)

  “Take care of him, Tullk.”

The first time Tullk hears that phrase, he’s still a middle-aged man, one of many Ravagers under the flag of Stakar Ogord.

And the “him” is a bulky, blue-skinned young man – Centaurian? He hasn’t seen one of them in quite a while – standing half-hidden behind the massive figure that is Stakar, red eyes glaring at Tullk as if the other has already insulted him somehow even if they’ve just met.

Well, alright, perhaps Tullk has already seen the man, being half-carried, half-dragged along as Stakar showed up with him out of the middle of Kree-territory, one of the Centaurian’s arms over his shoulder and his own arm slung around the too-thin waist of the younger while Stakar declared with cold seriousness in his voice that the young one would come with them.

And even if Tullk hadn’t seen it, the missing fin and the scars branding the blue skin would still spell slave all too loud.

“Show him around,” Stakar’s voice pulls him from the memories of wildly flashing red eyes and defensively bared teeth and he nods, saluting with a fist on his chest. “Give him some easy things to work at for today, see that he gets his own bunk and some flesh on his rips. He’s skin and bones, it’s not pretty to look at.”

There’s a growl from the Centaurian at the last remark, but Stakar simply laughs and pushes the young one’s shoulder. Tullk notes that there is no fighting back, just a grumble and something that looks endearingly close to a pout. Pup is already growing accustomed, it seems.

“You think you can do that?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tullk grins, more at the young one than at Stakar, and he gets another glare in return.

The glare is still present as Stakar leaves them with an easy wave, when it’s just the two of them. The Centaurian looks now even less relaxed than before, shoulders stiff and eyes drifting to Stakar’s retreating back one time too often.

Tullk decides it’s his turn to break the ice, and he – slowly, seeing how the red gaze immediately darts to the movement – extends a hand towards the other. “Hey there, mate, ‘m Tullk. I don’t think I’ve caught yer name, though.”

There’s a heavy silence, stretching until it’s not comfortable anymore, but Tullk smiles right through it and doesn’t even think of pulling his hand back.

His patience is met with success when there’s a voice, sounding unused and raspy. “Yondu. Udonta.”

If it’s even possible, Tullk’s smile grows even larger. “It’s nice to meet ye, Yondu. Come on, handshake, then we gonna grab something to eat first.”

A twitch and an eyebrow was raised at him in something that looked so very close to amusement. “Thought Ogord said showing around first.”

“Did ‘e? Didn’t catch that. My stomach is tellin’ me that eatin’ is first on the list, though.”

A thrill of unbound joy shoots through Tullk as the others bars his teeth – crooked, yellow and silver-capped things – in what is not a snarl, but a smile, and it makes him look so much more like the young man he still is, that Yondu. And what’s even better, a start of something, is the way rough blue fingers curl around Tullk’s, shaking them up and down carefully as Yondu rasps, “Eatin’ it is, then.”

“Glad we agree!” Tullk booms happily as he steers the other towards the kitchen.

  “Take care of ‘im, Tullk!”

The second time he hears it, he’s well-past his best years, hair more white than grey, and he’s been part of Yondu Udonta’s crew long enough to know when Yondu is lost in thought rather than angry and so he catches the little body basically being shoved at him without startling, yelling “Yessir!” after the retreating back of his Captain.

The “him”, he discovers when looking down, is the little Terran they have picked up not more than a few days ago. Boy’s small and scrawny, pale and with red-rimmed eyes that speak of shed tears and sleepless nights.

Tullk can’t blame him, knowing how the whole crew had gathered around the child when he had been beamed up, had all but ripped his things from his tiny hands to look through it. Boy had been terrified and not understanding, seeing as he didn’t have a translator in his brain then and had only heard strange noises coming from equally strange men who had just taken him of his home planet.

A grin splits his face as he remembers the roar and the punch the boy had released straight at Retch’s face when the man had picked up the rectangular music-box the Terran had gripped so tightly. Yes, the child will find his place in the crew soon enough with that fire of his, and it’s only fair that Tullk will help him with that.

He kneels, getting on eyelevel with the tiny Terran, who only flinches slightly away from him before scowling, green – or blue? He isn’t sure in the bad lighting – eyes hard as steel as they regard him carefully. Not red, Tullk notes, but just as suspicious as the pair of eyes back then.

“Hey there, lil’ one,” he is careful to speak quietly and slowly, knowing that the brand-new translator will still be working at a slower setting right now. “’m Tullk. What’s yer name?”

 There’s a bit of silence, then a sniffle that pulls at a heart Tullk sometimes wishes he didn’t have anymore, and a tiny, shaky voice, “Peter. Peter Quill.”

“’S nice to meet ye, Peter. Look, I think Capt’n meant I should show ye ‘round a bit, but how ‘bout we go grab us something to eat on the way and get to know each other a bit, first? Bet there’s a whole lot ye can tell me about yer planet, yea?”

 Peter stares, and stares – gaze wandering from Tullk’s eyes to his smile, following the tattoos on his face, back to his eyes – before the boy whispers, “I’m hungry.”

“Ain’t that perfect! Then eatin’ it is, okay?” Tullk offers him a hand, full-well knowing how large his own hand is in comparison to the tiny childlike one, but he tries to push that thought away.

And smiles even wider when those tiny fingers wrap around his own calloused ones and shake it awkwardly. “…’kay.”

“See, glad we agree on that,” he grunts only a bit as he gets to his feet again – when did his knees start to crack so loudly, he wonders – and rests a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder as he steers him towards the kitchen. “Now, tell me something about that planet of yers, a’right?”

#i... have no idea #i was writing at another fanfiction when this wanted to be written #so here we go i guess? #tullk #yondu udonta #peter quill #stakar ogord #fanfiction #my writing #headcanon #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #guardians of the galaxy vol 2 #ravagers #ravager family #ravagers as family