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pass-the-bechdel · 5 years

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Marvel Cinematic Universe: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (2017)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, six times.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Five (35.71% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Nine.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

The pacing is a disaster, the story is weak, and if the style of comedy isn’t to your taste it can be very grating, but the central theme has at least some glimmers of genuine quality.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Gamora passes with Ayesha. Nebula and Gamora conflict. Gamora asks Mantis about her empathic abilities. Gamora passes with Mantis. Gamora and Nebula fight. Gamora confronts Mantis.

Female characters:

Meredith Quill.

Gamora.

Ayesha.

Nebula.

Mantis.

Male characters:

Ego.

Peter Quill.

Drax.

Rocket.

Groot.

Stakar Ogord.

Yondu Udonta.

Taserface.

Kraglin.

OTHER NOTES:

Nice of Ayesha to randomly exposition on the way her people are created, even though it is not relevant to the plot or anything else at all.

Gold Ben Browder is the highlight of this film. Because it’s Ben Browder. And he’s gold.

The immature escape-from-the-Sovereign-fleet bickering between Quill and Rocket (with chimes in from Drax) while Gamora is the Token Female and Wet Blanket is just...chafing a really tedious cliche.

Drax hanging out the back of the ship as they’re crashing is one of those things where the characters are so unrealistically indestructible it makes it hard to engage with the idea that they’re ever in real danger. That happens a lot in this movie.

Android prostitutes. Sigh.

Daddy issues. Never seen that done before. Thrilling.

First time I saw this movie I thought it was a weird choice to make the raccoon the main character of the B plot, but to be honest, Rocket is the best of the Guardian characters and front-lining him is one of the better choices of the film.

The whole idea that Quill was able to hold an Infinity Stone because he’s half god really fucks over the whole ‘the Guardians teamed up to withstand the power of the stone together’ thing. Like, nevermind, that whole climactic moment from the first film didn’t mean shit, Quill is a half-god.

Kraglin thinks that Nebula would be the type to buy a pretty necklace or a nice hat and this is just one of those weak, gender-stereotyped jokes that makes me annoyed at the lack of awareness in writing ALIEN CULTURES and also just, like, the basic ability to comprehend character personalities. I complained about this when I reviewed the first Guardians film, but honestly. Whether in throwaway lines or entire plot arcs, these movies are rife with gendered writing, more than any other films in the MCU so far, and that doesn’t make a lick of sense. ALIEN. CULTURES. GUYS.

He’s playing catch with his dad and MY GOD, glowy god power should not be this trite and boring.

This script has a bad habit of over-playing its jokes. You gotta know when to stop, y’all.

URRRGGH, the momentum of this movie straight-up dies every time the plot shifts back to Quill and his dull daddy issues. The imbalance between the A and B plots is staggering.

Gamora and Nebula’s conflict and eventual reconciliation is one of those few quality emotional beats in this movie; the recognition that the hate that has been engendered between them comes from the abuse they suffered at Thanos’ hands, and that they are both victims of him, not of one another. It’s a kind of insightfulness that is surprising, considering the cliches and under-developed arcs that populate the rest of the film.

Credit where it’s due for genuinely funny jokes that they don’t overplay: the Mary Poppins gag, Drax’s nipples, the giant Pac-Man.

Yondu deserved a better movie, man. I don’t know why the rest of this story is such a mess when the little slivers it gets right are so spot-on.

So, daddy issues. It’s one of the most overdone cliches in the history of storytelling, typically stemming from a very performative-masculine root (the father as the only/most important role model for his son, specifically in modelling manliness), and/or the old-fashioned patriarchal idea of the son as his father’s heir (and the idea that that makes the relationship between a father and son more profound than any other). Men love to write stories about their daddy issues, despite the fact that they’re rarely interesting or unusual or different to the billion other daddy issues stories that have already been told. As such, the fact that this movie is built around that same-old-same cliche is a fact distinctly to its detriment; that said, it’s also the one well from which it draws any spark of meaningful inspiration.

The dot points above have already made it clear to which sparks of inspiration I refer; the Daddy Issues threads with Gamora and Nebula and their abusive father Thanos, and Quill’s realisation of the way Yondu ended up filling the fatherhood role in his life. Gamora and Nebula’s Daddy Issues are automatically fresher than the average on account of them not being dudes (Ant-Man had the same thing going for it, though that movie made a much greater strength out of it); that said, the fact that Thanos’ terrible parenting forms the backbone of the two sisters’ conflict and eventual unification is not what makes that slice of the plot work: it’s the sibling bonding, not the Daddy Issues. The sibling bonding is where the fire’s really at (again, enriched by the fact that the characters are female; funny how the under-representation of women (or any group) in media can make even small amounts of representation seem impressive just for existing), but unfortunately, that bond is pared down to the absolute minimum number of scenes possible for functionality as a subplot, and therefore we never really get to enjoy what it offers so much as we kinda point and wave at it as it goes by. Yondu gets a bit more play, both through the character’s own ruminations on his life/personality/relationships while hanging in the B plot with Rocket, and through Quill’s Daddy Issues whining in the A plot to which Yondu’s relevance provides the only saving grace. Still, Yondu’s place in the plot and in Quill’s life only gains narrative weight in the final act, leading to a cathartic denouement for the character, but not for the film itself. The bloated emptiness of the A plot with Ego is something which Yondu’s meaningful sendoff cannot retroactively undo.

I’m...trying to figure out if I have anything nice to say at all regarding Ego and all that he entails, but I’m not coming up with anything. A godlike character who is also kinda-sorta a literal planet should not be so devoid of interesting factors, and yet, here we are. With every overdone boring Daddy Issues cliche in the book, played straight. We’ve got ‘I never knew my father!’ abandonment-resentment! We’ve got father-son bonding (heavy Americana edition)! We’ve got the heir-to-my-empire, follow-in-my-footsteps schtick! If it’s overdone and boring, we’ve got it! The fancy special effects visuals can’t make up for the total absence of compelling plot (the first movie in the franchise also made that mistake, though it at least faked it on the plot front a little better), and the shapelessness of the story on Ego prior to the reveal wreaks havoc on the pacing of the movie; where the B plot has trajectory from the jump, the A plot just kinda wanders around, having nothing new or interesting to do or say, nor even any thoughtful ways to bring itself around to that aforementioned reveal (as with the first film, things just kind of conveniently happen and characters go places and say things at the opportune times; nothing flows naturally from one event to the next, cause and effect style. I am baffled that people think James Gunn knows how to plot).

Speaking of characters going places and saying things, this film also does a very poor job of utilising its cast in a meaningful way, which makes it kinda embarrassing that it’s called Guardians of the Galaxy as if the whole team actually matters. Much like in the first film, Drax is just an extra without any real plot or purpose of his own, no narrative or character arc to speak of beyond being a total douche to the new female character on the block, Mantis (the fact that the movie uses Mantis as a punching bag and laughing stock for the so-called good guys is among its more tasteless sins). Groot, meanwhile, was already more of a gimmick than a character, but that’s up to eleven now, and like Drax he could pretty easily be excised from the story without lasting effect. Gamora’s interactions with Nebula are really her only good fodder; her tangential attachment to Quill is incidental and has no personal relevance for Gamora, she’s just providing someone for Quill to bounce his inane misogyny off, because how would we recognise him without it? Quill being the centre of this plot does at least make sense this time (sleeping pill that it is), unlike in the first film where he was frankly pointless to the story; nevertheless, the drudging Daddy Issues cliche of this movie fails to make anything insightful or impactful out of Quill’s experiences. As noted earlier, Rocket is, bizarrely, the only character who feels like his story matters, and it’s his and Yondu’s character exploration that wins the prize as the highlight of an overall weak, spectacle-laden film that thinks it’s much funnier than it really is.

It’s no secret at this point that I don’t care for the Guardians franchise, but it isn’t complete absent glimmers of good promise and creative storytelling. Unfortunately, it’s also largely overrun with lazy plotting and vaguely-connected strings of shenanigans that prioritise rapidly-staling comedic beats over any semblance of narrative cohesion or character development. A rocking soundtrack and a smattering of toilet humour does not a worthy film make; it’s not like I’m going in looking for some high-brow drama, I just prefer my entertainment to hang together a little better than this does, and it surprises me a bit to hear people sing the praises of something so very, very messy. Whatever. It did its job for Marvel’s bottom line, so I don’t expect they’ll cook up any quality improvements for the third film of the franchise, when it comes. I sure would be glad to be wrong, though. There’s so much potential they’re wasting here.

#Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 #Marvel Cinematic Universe #MCU #Bechdel Test #female representation #Guardians of the Galaxy

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athena-athena · 6 years

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I’ll Never Leave, I’ll Always Stay (Yondu Story)

A/N So this story came out of nowhere last night, and it ended up being really hard to write. The words flowed easily enough, but it was very emotional for me. As someone who deals with anxiety attacks, writing this hit a little close to home, and I ended up crying through the last 1/3 of the story. That being said, I didn’t do any editing (apart from looking for typos, though I may have missed some), so what you see is what came out last night, grammatical errors and all.

The title came from one of my favorite songs, Tree to Grow, by The Lone Bellow, but the story itself was heavily influenced by another of my favorite songs by the same band, Take My Love. On first listen, it doesn’t really sound like it would fit the story, but I’ve always found the song really emotional, and the moment right as it builds up and breaks into the last chorus always slays me. Some of the lyrics are pretty fitting, too, and I listened to the song on repeat the entire time I was writing this. I highly recommend the song, or any song by The Lone Bellow, actually; they’re fantastic.

But, anyway, back to the story. I hope y’all like it! And to make up for putting Yondu through this tonight, I have a fluffy piece that I’m going to post later this week. :)

Tagged: @animeaniseed @misfitgirlwrites

Warnings: Anxiety attack; flashbacks to when he was a Kree battle slave

One minute everything was fine, and the next, Yondu could feel the familiar warning signs of an impending anxiety attack. He had been standing in the hall, discussing the next mission with Kraglin, when he heard it – the metallic clinking of chains. It was only Tullk walking past carrying a box of odds and ends, which just happened to contain a chain that was hanging out of the box, but that didn’t stop the sudden, overwhelming fear. He broke out in a sweat. He knew he had precious few moments before he would break down and the horrible memories would flood in, and he refused to show that weakness to the crew.

He cut Kraglin off mid-sentence, “Fergot somethin’ I gotta do,” and walked off before Kraglin could respond.

“Aye, Cap’n,” Kraglin called after him, before turning and walking off in the opposite direction.

Yondu didn’t have time to worry about what Kraglin would think. He hurried around a corner and found a storage room. Slamming the door, he staggered to the middle of the room, just as the flashbacks hit him. Pieces of memories flashed across his mind’s eye – rattling chains attached to his wrists, ankles, and neck; the quick whistle of a whip above his head, then the sharp sting as it hit his bare back, again and again. He fell to his knees and cradled his head in his hands as he rocked back and forth, the memories still assaulting him. He could smell the cramped cell he was kept locked in, could feel the cold floor beneath him.

He was there. No. No, he was on the Eclector. But the memories felt so real, and he was losing his grip on reality. He started to shake as the memories became clearer and his surroundings became hazier. Gasping for breath, he gave in as the terrible memories crashed over him.

“Yondu! Yondu!”

Vaguely, he heard someone calling his name, as if through a fog, as though from miles away.

“Yondu, are you okay?”

He felt a soft touch on his hand. This couldn’t be part of his nightmares. There was no softness in those dark places.

Slowly, his surroundings started to come back to him. It was still hazy, still gray, but he could make out the storage room. Not in a cell. His breath was still ragged, and he was still besieged by nausea, but he became aware of someone holding his trembling hand.

“Yondu, what happened?”

Y/N. He saw her sitting on the floor next to him.

He shook his head slightly, but the resulting wave of dizziness had him regretting it at once.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Y/N replied, her voice laced with concern.

He hated that she had to see him like this: weak, pathetic, useless. She should get up and walk away, leave him alone with his demons. He didn’t deserve her kindness. He deserved to be alone. She was better off without him. He tried to remove his hand from her gentle grasp, but she tightened her grip.

As though she could read his mind, she told him, “I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you, Yondu. Whatever you’re going through, I’m staying. I’ll always stay.”

She wrapped her other arm around his shoulder and gathered him to her, as he began to weep. She gently rubbed his back as he took great shuddering breaths and let the tears flow freely. She whispered reassurances as he fought back the darkness. For once, he didn’t have to weather the storm on his own. She was his anchor, and though he was still seeing and feeling the past, he could feel her warm presence beside him, as well. He could feel her calling him back to the light, away from the nightmares – from the pain, the despair, the cold chains. Her warmth was reassuring, and he could still hear her whispering, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Finally, the attack loosened its grip on him, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease. Y/N was still gently rubbing his back as he rested his head on her chest. She seemed to notice the change in his breathing, from gasping to only slightly shaky. In a quiet voice, she asked, “Is the worst over?”

He sat up and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and, in a scratchy voice, said, “Yeah, think so.” He felt her stop rubbing his back and felt a sudden pang of grief that she would be leaving him now. She was probably ashamed of his breakdown, was probably already planning to leave the ship and go back home. He felt the blackness creeping back with those thoughts, but then he felt her warm hand on his face, gently caressing his cheek with her thumb. He opened his eyes and found her smiling softly at him.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore, Yondu.”

He still felt the numbness that followed an attack, but this time there was something else too, something small, but he clung to it as a man lost at sea clings to a piece of driftwood.

Leaning forward, he enveloped her in his arms, and whispered, “Thank you.”

In answer, she returned his embrace, and he knew she hadn’t been lying. She wouldn’t leave him alone.

#yondu #yondu x reader #guardians of the galaxy #yondu udonta #gotg #my writing

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timeisacephalopod · 6 years

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Never Have I Ever

A Peter Q/ Tony/ Bucky AU in which they play NHIE at a party. Hence the name of the ficlet lol. (Also this was written on my phone if formatting gets weird I’m sorry 😭😭.

***

“Okay,” Tony says as he sits down. “We’re playing never have I ever hard edition. No mention of sex, drugs, or alcohol,” he tells the group. Everyone groans but it’s Clint that says what they’re all thinking.

“Dude, what the hell? That’s literally the whole game.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “well it gets fucking boring when you used to do a shit ton of drugs, had a lot of sex, and used to be an alcoholic. I’m tired of drinking like five jugs of apple juice because thirty five years of life hasn’t resulted in a single one of you finding a drinking game fifteen year olds don’t play. Also Peter used to deal drugs so he ends up taking way too many shots and I worry about his body’s tolerance, and Bucky is asexual so he’s fucked out of ninety percent of the game. No pun intended,” he adds when he realizes how that sounds.

“I’m asexual and I have no problem playing this game,” Sam mumbles, glaring at Bucky.

Bucky flips him off, “oh fuck off, just because you’re slutty doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

“Don’t be rude,” Tony tells them.

“No, fight, I want to see which one of you wins!” Peter says excitedly. Tony gives him a look a but it doesn’t seem to curb Peter’s enthusiasm.

“Fine,” Natasha mumbles. “Never have I ever kicked a dog,” she says.

Steve takes a guilty shot and they all frown at him. Tony would have guessed Peter if he guessed anyone. “I was running late for work so I was trying to hurry and the dog wasn’t there and then it was and I almost died tripping over it,” he says, staring at the table.

T’Challa pats his back, “I don’t think that counts,” he says sympathetically.

“No,” Steve mumbles. “It counts.”

“If it makes you feel better cats are the superior animal,” T’Challa offers. It doesn’t seem to help.

“Birds are the superior animal,” Sam says. “Specifically falcons, none of this budgie apologist shit.”

Clint flips Sam off, “fuck you, hawks. Ok then. Never have I ever laughed so hard I threw up.”

Everyone but T’Challa takes a shot. T’Challa looks mildly horrified. “Um. Never have I ever punched an extremist,” Tony says, trying to find something ridiculous that he hasn’t done. He’s unsurprised when Steve takes a shot, when Bucky takes a shot he wants the story, but when Peter takes a shot he really wants the story. That disappears when T’Challa tentatively takes a shot too. They all stare at him and he sighs.

“Wakanda has a problem with an extremist group of isolationists and one time I got fed up and punched my former best friend. In my defence he tried to assassinate me,” he says and all their eyeballs just about pop out of their heads.

“Dude you’re a badass!” Peter says.

“What’s your story?” Bucky asks him.

He shrugs, “asshole drug dealer who was also a white supremacist, not nearly as fun as fun as T’Challa’s but there was two million dollars of meth so I feel like I should earn brownie posts,” he says.

Steve blinks rapidly, seemingly unable to process that. “What do you even do with all that meth?” He asks

Peter squints, “sell it, dumbass.”

“What about you?” Tony asks Bucky to break the tension.

He sighs, “I saw a guy with a swastika tattoo and panicked. I’m a gentle Jew and I was threatened. Ok so I instigated the fight but still.”

“Are you talking about Schmidt?” Steve asks. Bucky nods. “Fuck that guy, he was a piece of shit.”

“Well I guess he deserved it,” Tony mumbles.

Sam squints, “the swastika didn’t tip you off?”

“Some people make dumb mistakes,” he says even though that’s an admittedly extra dumb mistake to make. Like unfathomable, really.

“I swear to god if you have a swastika tattoo...” Sam mumbles.

“He doesn’t,” Bucky says. “I’ve seen every inch of his body, including inches he probably wouldn’t want me to see.”

Tony frowns, “what’s that mean?”

“It means your booty hole isn’t pretty,” Peter tells him bluntly. “What, don’t look at me like that. No one has a pretty booty hole.”

“Ok Natasha is glaring at me we’re moving on. Never have I ever been abducted by aliens,” he says no no ones surprise. Bucky and his fucking conspiracies. Dude has an obsession.

When Peter takes a shot though they all squint at him suspiciously. “What? Like I wanted to be abducted after my mom died. That big blue bastard was an asshole. He was always ‘when I picked you up on terra my boys wanted to eat you, they ain’t ever tasted no Terran before. But I stopped them-‘ it continued for a bit but I tuned it out and eventually they decided I was useless and dropped me off in Medicine Hat, Canada. Yeah, that’s a real place.”

“Medicine Hat was the most believable part of that,” Sam tells him, frowning.

Bucky laughs, “that was some world class meth, Peter.”

Peter squints, “drug dealer 101- don’t fucking smoke your supply. Also I was nine, nine year olds don’t- okay most nine year olds don’t sell drugs,” he says. “Or do them,” he adds.

T’Challa looks horrified, “you knew nine year old drug dealers?” He asks.

Peter shrugs, “I was into some shady shit.”

“This country is in peril,” T’Challa mumbles.

“Ok chill it black panther the youngest dealer I knew was 13 but they probably go younger, I don’t know, I refused to deal with anything that wasn’t in the double digits,” Peter says like this is an improvement. “But back to this seriously bullshit game that obviously displays our total lack of creativity. Never have I ever eaten out of the trash.”

Bucky takes a shot and everyone makes a disgusted face. When Clint takes a shot no one reacts. “How come you guys think I’m gross but Clint isn’t?” He asks.

“We expect you to have standards,” Tony says. “Please don’t kiss me with your garbage mouth.”

“Seconded, I love you but fuck that noise with something hard and prickly,” Peter says.

“Don’t look at me like that! People throw away perfectly good food away in your neighbourhood, it’s a fucking sin to let that go to waste,” Bucky tells Tony.

Tony sighs, “you’re the one the homeowners association keeps whining about,” he mumbles more to himself than Bucky.

“Alright Bucky nope, can’t do it, I gotta dump you,” Peter tells him.

Bucky looks offended, “I didn’t dump you for claiming to be abducted by aliens!” He says

“Aliens that are inexplicably from the southern United States if that speech pattern is any indication,” T’Challa adds.

“That’s a real story! His name was Yondu and he was the ugliest sonofabitch I’ve ever seen,” Peter tells them. “Except maybe Taserface, he looked like uglier Hagrid.”

Sam throws his head back and laughs with the rest of them. “Taserface? What the hell did nine year old you drink?”

“Why did he name himself after a human weapon?” T’Challa asks.

“Also how come these aliens seem to follow the human gender binary?” Steve asks.

Peter rolls his eyes, “I was nine, assholes. I wasn’t about to sit down and have a fucking discussion about gender theory with a blue fuckstick making vague threats about letting his crew eat me. I was shitting my damn pants.”

“Who thinks this is a more dumpable offence than liberating food from rich people’s trash?” Bucky asks. Everyone but Clint raises their hands. “Clint doesn’t count because he’s gross,” Bucky says. “So everyone has voted that you shouldn’t dump me,” he tells Peter.

“That’s not at all what we just voted but fine. Canada is a fake country also, Medicine Hat can’t be a real place,” Peter says.

“I remember why we play this stupid ass game now,” Tony says.

“So I can find out I choose to waste my precious time with two dumpster divers and a man who claims and alien named ‘Taserface’ abducted him?” T’Challa asks. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m a prince. My time is precious, that is an objective fact.”

“Yondu abducted me, Taserface was just there,” Peter corrects.

“I’m dating two out of the three mentioned people. How do you think I feel?” Tony asks. “But no, it’s because we all have ridiculous stories we’d never tell unless asked and this game never fails in its quest to make us reveal dumb obviously made up alien stories.”

“That was real!” Peter says in his own defence.

“Sure honey,” Bucky tells him, patting his thigh.

#peter x bucky x tony #alternate universe #fanfiction #my writing #crack fic #isk bois inspiration hit and this is the result

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bevioletskies · 6 years

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Starmora prompt to consider: Gamora and Peter are in college together and have to work on a project together.

songs in this fic: dance with me by orleans, the closer i get to you by roberta flack & donny hathawayword count: 3.7k | ao3

In the three years he’d been in college, Peter had come to learn he had a particular aversion to certain two-word phrases. Among them: morning lectures, waitlisted classes, mandatory attendance, cumulative exams, and the oh-so-dreaded…

Assigned partners.

It wasn’t that Peter didn’t like working with other people. In fact, unlike most students, he generally loved the experience. He was curious about others by nature, and getting along with people was never much of a chore for him. In any group project, even with just three people in it, he could find kinship with at least one other member. Assigned partners, however, was a different story. Especially when said assigned partner was the infamous Gamora (no last name, as far as he knew, anyway).

She was well-known around their sizable college on Xandar for a handful of reasons, most which were rather tragic. Gamora was the last living member of the Zehoberei race, largely in part to her adoptive father, Thanos. She and her sister, Nebula, were generally quite reserved when it came to sharing their private lives, but anyone could dig up old news articles and learn that they had only been rescued from their violent upbringing at the age of fifteen, leaving them physically and emotionally scarred for life. They hid it well, though, keeping their chins up despite some of the nasty comments that immature classmates threw their way.

Beyond that, Gamora was part of several different clubs and organizations, with ambitions of getting into law school. She hardly spoke in class, but she had the highest grades in just about everything, constantly booking private office hours with her professors to make her goals known. Peter could admire her drive from a distance, sure, but getting to know her up close?

“Don’t think that you’ll have it easy because you’re partnered with me,” Gamora said, dropping into the seat beside him, her bag slamming down with a loud thunk. “If you slack off, Quill, our TA will hear about it.”

Peter blinked. “Hi to you too, it’s so great to meet you,” he said dryly.

Getting to know her up close was…interesting, to say the least.

“I’m serious. I’ve seen your posts on the class discussion forums, or should I say, your lack of them?” Gamora’s lip curled. “I’m not carrying you through this class. It’s a prerequisite for two of my fourth-year classes.”

“Hey, same here,” Peter said with a surprised chuckle. “What’s your major, anyways?”

“Sociology. Yours?” It was the kindest thing she’d said to him so far, though Peter suspected it was more of reflexive habit than an actual desire to know.

“Education.” Peter turned away briefly to accept the project outline that was being passed around, grabbing one for each of them before looking back at her. He’d never been so physically up-close to her before, surprised and a little bit disturbed to see thin slivers of metal visible underneath her skin. That certainly wasn’t a Zehoberei physical trait; it had to have been the result of Thanos’s cruelty.

“I didn’t know education majors had to take communication courses,” Gamora said. She still refused to meet his eyes, instead opting to skim over the project outline. “We have to collect primary research and present a proposal to the entire class.”

“So…every college project ever,” Peter snorted. “Why is this even done in partners?”

“Because we have to be each other’s opposition.” Gamora tapped her finger on Peter’s sheet, right where the criteria said exactly as such. “That’s clever, actually. Means that you can’t rely on me to do everything for you.”

“I don’t know where you’re gettin’ the idea that I’m a slacker,” Peter protested. Gamora gave him a pointed look.

“You don’t participate in class or in the online discussions, I overheard you asking our TA at least twice if the final was cumulative when it says so on the syllabus, and you snored during our last three lectures,” she said, getting to her feet. “Excuse me for being cautious.” She hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “Meet me in the student lounge in the Nova building tomorrow? I don’t have class, so it’s up to you when we meet.”

“I was gonna…ugh.” Peter let out a resigned sigh. Clearly, his plans to head into the city and skulk around the pawn shops for Yondu were going to have to wait. “I’ll be there at noon.”

“Don’t be late,” Gamora called over her shoulder as she made her way down the steps of the lecture hall. Peter could only watch her go with a shake of his head, wondering what exactly his professor had gotten him into.______

To Gamora’s surprise, Peter arrived five minutes early (she had been here ten minutes ago, but still). He looked for all the world like he’d just rolled out of bed, his hair a rumpled mess, the collar of his T-shirt woefully lopsided. Peter dropped his bag into the seat opposite her and sank into the cushion with a labored groan. “Just woke up?”

“Nah, early morning shift.” Peter cracked his knuckles, satisfied with the way they popped. Gamora looked vaguely disgusted. “I work at the radio station.”

“Really?” For the first time, Gamora sounded genuinely interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah, I do the playlists and social media. Sometimes I help edit the announcements and current events stuff,” Peter shrugged. He began unloading his bag, yanking out his laptop and project outline. “You, uh, you write for the newspaper, right?”

“Among other things, yes,” Gamora said neatly, directing her attention back to her own screen. “We don’t really pay much attention to the radio station, though, except for that disastrous fundraiser you attempted last semester.”

“Hey, there are plenty of rich kids around here who would love to get their ships washed,” Peter said defensively.

“But by students in swimsuits? That’s dangerously archaic and a tad suggestive,” Gamora replied, though she chuckled softly as she said it. “We got plenty of quotes from the administration about your little stunt, enough for a front page spread. It was a busy week.”

“Welcome Week usually is,” Peter laughed. “So, you have any topics in mind yet?”

“It still has to be related to some aspect of communication,” Gamora pondered aloud, leaning back into her seat. “Something that can even have opposing ideas. We gather and present the same primary data, but we have to come to different conclusions.”

Peter hummed to himself, drumming his fingers against his keyboard thoughtfully. Another minute or two passed before he let out an excited shout, startling a few students trying to sleep on the beanbag chairs nearby. “I got it!”

“That was fast,” Gamora said, eyeing him curiously. “Go on, then.”

“What makes a better communicator - an introvert or an extrovert?” Peter smiled at her triumphantly. “C’mon, you can’t tell me that isn’t good.”

Gamora twirled her pen between her fingers, nodding slowly. “You know…that isn’t half-bad.” Peter pumped his fist in the air in victory. “But how would we measure it? Based on what kind of data? What constitutes an unbiased conclusion?”

Peter clapped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously. “Let’s start with an abstract and go from there, yeah?”

She quirked her brow, setting her pen down. “Sounds like a plan. I’m impressed, Quill. You might be smarter than you look.”

His grin widened. “Hey, I have good ideas every now and then.” He turned his laptop towards her, open to a blank word document. “After you.”______

Meeting outside of class hours became a weekly occurrence for the two, usually in the Nova student lounge. It was mostly out of necessity - after all, there was only so much they could communicate via text and email - but occasionally Peter would send her an extra message or two that wasn’t related to the project at all.

Saw your article this morning - do you have a personal vendetta against the radio station or something D:

I think your sister literally ran into me in the admin building like five minutes ago does she always look this angry or did I do something please help

Did they not have memes on Zehoberei?? Is that why you aren’t responding to the last three I sent you

“We didn’t have Internet on Zehoberei, Quill,” Gamora sighed as she sat beside him in the lecture hall one day. Peter startled at her sudden presence; she had never voluntarily elected to sit with him before. “And ignore Nebula, she’s just…tempestuous.”

“So you do have something against the radio station,” Peter said teasingly. “What’d music and campus news ever do to you?”

“Nothing, I just think it’s an inefficient way of communicating. All your reports are looped every fifteen minutes, which means whenever someone tunes in, they either miss a portion of it or miss it entirely,” Gamora pointed out. “All the newspaper’s articles are published online, which students can access whenever they want.”

“You’re against the old-school, huh?” Peter hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. His shoulder brushed hers as he did. “I see how it is.”

“Did you pull something when you jumped to that conclusion?” Gamora said dryly, though to her surprise, Peter merely laughed, shaking his head in amusement. The genuine warmth of the sound made her shiver. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, still chuckling. “You busy tonight?”

“We’re meeting on Thursday, aren’t we?” Gamora asked, frowning.

“Sure, but if you’re free…I’d like to change your mind.” Peter smiled.

Gamora hesitated, which in her mind, already said something about herself. She was planning on doing her usual evening routine - attempt to meet up with her sister, only to get spurned for one reason or another, and instead spend the rest of the night licking her wounds and doing homework in her dorm room, alone. But for some reason, the offer sounded rather appealing. “Fine, but I’ll still be bringing my laptop, whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t take the entire night off.”______

The grass was still slightly damp from the afternoon sprinklers as Gamora crossed the lawn into unfamiliar territory. There were certain areas of the school’s campus she’d never been to, considering most of her classes resided in two buildings on the other side of the quad. The stars in the night sky twinkled mischievously from up above as she paused outside the door, urging her to knock. With an inhale of anticipation, she neatly rapped her knuckles against its surface.

“Quill?” she called. The door swung open, revealing a cheerful-looking Peter, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier, only now he had a pair of headphones slung around his neck and a small device hanging on his belt.

“Hey, welcome to the den.” He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. She glanced around as she did, taking in her surroundings. It looked less like a radio station’s quarters, and more like a typical dorm room, with random junk strewn about. Records, tapes, and seemingly disassembled electronics were packed and stacked on nearly every surface, including the single worn loveseat that sat opposite the broadcasting booth. A student that Gamora vaguely recognized from one of her old language classes was inside, speaking animatedly into the microphone, while Peter’s bag and schoolwork seemed to be set up on a small desk by the equipment.

Peter took a minute to clear off the couch, carrying his laptop over and motioning for her to join him. They sat down together, watching the radio host in amicable silence for a few minutes before Gamora finally spoke. “Somehow, this is exactly what I pictured.”

“Okay, so we’re not as fancy as the newspaper office,” Peter shrugged. “We…we’re cozy.”

“When were you at the newspaper?” Gamora asked, pulling out her own laptop. She was beginning to suspect Peter didn’t have much planned besides spending the evening in each other’s company, which admittedly wasn’t as terrible of a plan as it might have sounded a couple months ago when they first began working together.

“I, uh, might’ve had a crush on the culture reporter, Bereet,” Peter confessed. “She was in one of my film study electives, and she seemed to know her stuff about movies, and I wanted to see if she’d be interested in my contributions on music in film. Turns out she’s kind of a Top 40 girl. Which isn’t, like, bad or anything, just…she didn’t really wanna hear anything I had to offer or say.”

“She means well, but she is…particular,” Gamora said carefully. “Anyways, what am I doing here?”

Peter unwound the headphones from his neck and held them out to her. Gamora accepted wordlessly, albeit a little uncertainly, as she slid them snugly over her ears. “Showin’ you what the radio station can do that the newspaper can’t.” He pressed play.

Dance with me, I want to be your partner…can’t you see the music is just starting?…

He watched her nervously, watched as her eyes slid closed and her shoulders dropped as the tension in her body slowly dissipated. She almost seemed to be swaying a little, absorbing the song and its lyrics - or maybe she was drifting off to sleep, he couldn’t quite tell.

Night is falling, and I am falling…dance with me…

When the song finished, Gamora pulled the headphones down to her shoulders, glancing over at him with a soft smile. “It was…pleasant. I liked it.”

Peter grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Gamora gently took the Walkman from him, turning the device over carefully in her hands. “But if you think the newspaper is lacking in music, I think I need to introduce you to streaming services, Quill.” He couldn’t help but laugh again - part of him wanted to be annoyed, but there was something about the way she spoke that left him utterly charmed. “There you go again - what is it?”

“Nothin’, it’s just…you’re funny. I didn’t expect that.” Peter held out his hand for her to give it back. “Here, let me play you another one.”

Gamora pressed it into his palm, their fingertips brushing slightly as she did. She shivered. “I don’t think anyone has ever thought of me as funny before.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Then let me be the first.” Peter couldn’t help but stare a little as she tucked her hair behind her ear before pushing the headphones back into place, shaking himself out of his reverie before pressing play once more.

The closer I get to you…the more you make me see…by giving me all you got…your love has captured me… ______

Semester-long projects, suffice to say, were just about no one’s favorite, but Peter soon found himself dreading its end. After that night, Gamora had become a semi-regular visitor of the radio station, having quickly memorized Peter’s work schedule. She dropped in at least twice a week with leftover pastries from the newspaper office or one the other dozen committees and whatnot that she was a part of. They usually spent the first ten minutes under the guise that they had something to talk about regarding the project, but would then delve into something a little personal, a little more intimate, even.

One night, Gamora had made a rather strange request - that Peter join her in her dorm room instead, and if he had spent a little more time checking himself over in the mirror before leaving, no one had to know. However, when he arrived, she seemed unusually distraught.

Her room was exactly what he expected it to be; neat and well-kept, with everything in its place. There were no extraneous decorations or trinkets to be found, just a perfectly-made bed and organized desk with nothing on the floor but her bookbag. Gamora’s tear-streaked face told a different story. “Gamora, hey, what happened?” He immediately sat on the foot of her bed, wondering if it would be too invasive to reach out into her personal space.

“Do you have a sister, Quill?” she asked.

“Yeah, uh, Mantis, you might know her from - never mind. Did somethin’ happen with Nebula?” Peter said worriedly.

“I didn’t know who else to talk to about it.” Gamora glanced at him almost apologetically. “This probably wasn’t what you were expecting when I texted, but…”

“It’s okay. I was in the neighborhood,” Peter joked, bringing his legs up onto the bed. “I mean, I’d like to think we’re at the point where we can talk about stuff that’s not about class. We’re…friends, right?”

For a moment, Peter internally panicked, wondering if he’d misspoke, as Gamora suddenly looked very odd, like she’d swallowed something sour. She clenched her jaw a little, her brow furrowed upwards, before she finally relaxed, braving a watery smile. “Yes, I think we are.”

Peter spread his arms wide, a rather goofy expression on his face. “So lay it on me. What happened?”

Despite the uneasiness in her stomach about the Nebula situation, Gamora couldn’t help but find her smile widening as she settled in across from Peter, putting her phone aside so she could properly meet his eyes. “It all started earlier this week…or really, to be more accurate, when we were children…”______

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Quill.” Gamora smiled almost teasingly as she slid onto the bench beside him, smoothing out her already-crisp blazer. It was presentation day, a day that both of them had been secretly dreading, and they were dressed much nicer than their usual attire, considering professionalism was a big part of their mark. “You’ve got a strange look in your eye.”

“It’s just my face,” Peter protested, though the wrinkle in his brow instantly faded the second Gamora playfully elbowed him in his side. “Are you ready?”

“I’m always ready,” Gamora drawled, smirking, before they both directed their attention to the front of the room.

The next thirty minutes dragged on in nervous anticipation as other groups went up to present. Peter bounced his leg underneath the table until Gamora literally dug her fingers into his knee to get him to stop, her hand remaining there a little longer than necessary. Finally, after what felt like forever, the two of them were called on, and they made their way down the steps.

“Communication and personality are undeniably correlated, but is there causation to be found? Do extroverts have it easier when it comes to expressing themselves and making their ideas heard, or do introverts win out in the end?” Gamora began as Peter pulled up their presentation on the large pull-down screen.

“We conducted fifty interviews with students from different faculties, different backgrounds, different dreams - to come to opposing conclusions about who has it better,” Peter continued, gesturing towards the video that was queued up in front of them. “This includes our colleagues - I work at the radio station, and Gamora works at the school paper. You might think they’re mutually exclusive, but you’d be surprised at what we found.”

Their ten minutes, all things considered, went seamlessly - Peter only fumbled his words once, and Gamora’s voice shook as she spoke of her own experiences as a person that somewhat fell in between what she called the “admittedly narrow definitions” of what it meant to be one or the other. As with any college lecture, the applause they received was obligatory and entirely disinterested, but their professor seemed impressed enough, nodding and laughing in all the right places, asking a few questions at the end that they answered near-flawlessly.

Peter exhaled shakily as they sat back in their seats, both relieved and a little remorseful. “That went okay, right? We did good.”

“We did,” Gamora smiled. “Who knew we would make a half-decent team?”

Class wasn’t over, though, as much as they wanted it to be, and they had to sit through another five presentations. Peter couldn’t help but whisper snarky commentary under his breath to Gamora throughout, in which her reactions would range from rolling her eyes to biting hard on her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud.

When the second-last presentation was halfway done, Gamora glanced down at her phone and, without warning, ducked out of the room in a hurry, her bag in tow. Peter could only stare after her despondently, wondering if that was suddenly it; if by next week, when their professor started their finals review period, she would be sitting at the front again, she would stop visiting the radio station, she would stop talking to him entirely.

Peter practically sprinted out of the lecture hall the second they were dismissed, glancing around for any signs of where Gamora could have gone, though he was sure she was long gone by now. It was only when his eyes drifted a little lower that he spotted her sitting under a nearby tree, smiling hesitantly at him from across the way.

“You sure hightailed it outta there,” Peter commented when he approached her. He was unsure of whether it would be weird for him to sit down. “Something up?”

“My sister texted, she actually wants to have dinner with me tonight,” Gamora said, holding up her phone triumphantly.

“That’s great!” Peter exclaimed, deciding to sit cross-legged beside her. “One step closer to working it out, right?”

“I hope so,” Gamora chuckled in relief. “I thought it would be kind of rude for me to go back inside and interrupt the presenters so…I’m glad you found me.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s heart thumped a little faster. “Why’s that?”

“Well, partially so I could tell you in person why I can’t come to the station tonight,” she replied apologetically, reaching across to take his hand in hers. “But…if you’re free tomorrow night…I have the keys to the newspaper office. You know, for comparison’s sake.”

“You ain’t sick of me yet?” he said disbelievingly.

“Oh, give it some time, Peter, I’m sure it will happen eventually,” Gamora teased. “So is that a yes?”

Peter nodded eagerly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as Gamora gazed up at him, her dark eyes compelling him to say the answer they were both looking for. “It’s a date.”

#ask #Anonymous #starmora #starmora fic #myfic #marvel #college fluff is always my jam #thanks for the request lovely!! i hope you enjoyed :)

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marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches · 6 years

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Oh my goodness, I didnt see the link to your fanfic account! I am dumb. So ignore my previous ask and instead answer this one for the meme. 13, 3, 14, 1 and 2 for Happiness goes on? (I shall leave reviews on your beautiful fanfic soon I promise, they are good.)

(Hiii, sooo…this whole reply is late because I actually typed up ALL OF THIS last night, and then accidentally “x”-ed out of my browser and lost it all, because I am very very stupid. And then was too tired to retype it up before going to sleep. I hope I remember roughly everything, and apologies for that mistake.)

Oh! Haha! Alright then! Thank you! Don’t feel dumb at all for not realizing which AO3 account is mine or for your previous ask(which for others who are curious, said: “1 - 5 for all your fics! Just talk about your favs!”). I was prepared to choose 3 fics (including “Happiness Goes On” since that’s definitely the one I’m most proud of, so I guess that’s closest to a “favorite” right?), and go through the first 5 questions for each, though I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t have taken some time to answer.

BUUUT…since you said to scrap that first ask, I’ll answer these individual ones for “Happiness Goes On.” And your compliment and promise for a future review means SO goddamn much, thank you sincerely.

(WARNING / REMINDER: This is about my fic that deals with the subject of child molestation, and I do reference that a little bit in this reply. Don’t read further if it makes you uncomfortable, which I entirely understand and respect.)

**********

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

HA! Well, American Pie obviously, for a majority of it. While brainstorming / writing / editing the epilogue? A lotta Billy Joel. ;)

The idea to use American Pie bounced into my brain when it came on the radio at the thrift shop where I volunteer, one of the rare times my own music speaker battery died. Usually a disaster, because our store radio is pretty crappy, but the sound quality wasn’t too bad that day, and I rediscovered how much I love that song and ‘Why isn’t this on my ipod again?’. Listening to the lyrics, I realized how much some of them fit the Guardians in general, and this story specifically, which I have Gamora mentally note in the fic. I was sitting and casually chatting with the manager while also thinking, ‘Google what year this came out when you get home, but I’m sure it’s the 70′s. Peter would know it, and it could be the Zune. I think it could work.’ I’m proud that I was able to reference the song so many times without actually naming it by title, but I assume most readers knew what it was, it’s just that famous. (I also couldn’t resist the light-hearted joke, later when things calmed down, of Gamora saying “This…is the longest song…I have ever heard.” and Peter smiling without even looking at her and giving a cheeky “I know.”)

In terms of using Billy Joel for the epilogue, I’m just a Billy Joel fanatic. The use of him for this story began just from the We Didn’t Start the Fire joke toward Rocket at the bar (I thought it was clever, Peter!), and later on I saw how The Longest Time fit romantically for Starmora, and some of the lyrics matched the healing themes of the overall story, and I thought ‘Maybe they’ve been playing BIlly Joel since that night; maybe that can be the joke.’ Why shouldn’t his Greatest Hits albums (at least) be on the Zune? I struggled a lot over what song should be the final one Gamora comments on before they switch artists to appease the group. I never specify which romantic Billy Joel song Peter and Gamora slow danced to during their “date night” in that six-week summary, but I like to imagine it was Just the Way You Are. I considered Keeping the Faith or Vienna for the final one, but I thought they deserved something more fun and naughty to analyze this time, so Only the Good Die Young it is. :D

In conclusion, I listened to The Longest Time, and the entire An Innocent Man studio album, a lot (as if I needed an excuse).3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

The portion in italics is my favorite line, but I’m including the entire sentence for context purposes: “She would need to grow used to him viewing Yondu as a caring parent who was extraordinarily protective of his boy, and would have hunted down this pervert to whistle a glowing arrow through her skull.”14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Ohh geez, wow, that one is tough. I don’t know if it’s accurate to say this story was intended to educate, but just to explore the idea with fictional characters. I have no expertise on the subject, and would never claim such, or talk down to those who do. I didn’t intend to create a PSA. I suppose all of the “lessons” for Peter (if they can be called that) I hope all readers already know and agree on (basically a collection of “it wasn’t your fault” and “this doesn’t define you” and “trauma isn’t a competition, someone else suffering worse doesn’t invalidate your experience” and “you should feel comfortable talking about anything without judgement or shame” etc.).

Slightly lesser scale messages, there’s also reminders about the importance of communication, trusting each other, letting the other person speak in an argument, not letting one’s jealousy/instincts/bad mood interfere with fairness, not running away from a fight or staying angry, respecting boundaries and privacy, all that healthy relationship jazz that these two are still figuring out. 1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

This post is already very long, and I could probably talk for hours about the decision-making process for many scenes (of my GotG fics, this took the longest to write and publish, over 2 months), so I’ll try to condense this to a few bullet points that probably don’t fit the “inspired” criteria.

- It was originally going to be in two parts, 4 scenes each, when I thought the epilogue would be much shorter. But as the lil’ wrap-up got longer (because we needed a fluffy conclusion, dammit!), I decided to make it a separate “chapter.”

- I think the concept probably started as one of those strange, angsty “what if?” scenarios I make up in my head at night that I still can’t believe I created into a full-fledged work. I liked the idea of Peter and Gamora having this conversation and her comforting him, but I knew if I was really going to throw it out there for other fans, it had be more balanced with happier moments, too. I just know I was always going to make the offender a woman - both because it would lead to the misunderstanding that she was a past consensual hook-up when Peter was an adult to spark some irritation and jealousy in Gamora, and because it’s realistically different from other sexual assault stories, since women can be pedophiles and child predators too, and they’re just as horrible. :(

- The fanfic idea of “Gamora accidentally starts a fire while trying to cook, and Peter falsely accuses and lashes out at Rocket” was in my head before, but there were two key differences. 1) It was the entire plot, not a light-hearted subplot in the shadows of something bigger, 2) Meredith’s letter was either fully or partially burnt as a result of the fire. By the end Gamora was going to confess it was her fault, that she was trying to surprise Peter by cooking spaghetti, and he would apologize both to her and to Rocket for losing his temper and getting so angry. I hated that idea later and found it too sad (he’s already lost the Walkman and second cassette tape, why would I want him to lose even more from his mother?), and in “Spark My Memory” (the Christmas fic I wrote for “12 Days of Starmora”) the Guardians put his mother’s letter in the photo album gift for Peter, completely safe and unharmed. I like to keep all my fanfics canon-compliant and non-contradictory from each other, so the letter is fine, no burning it.

Yet “Gamora started a fire cooking” still seemed fun to me, as I like the idea that she’s so badass and skilled and intelligent, but failed at something so domestic and simple. Kinda cute. I was so excited to insert it into this, because I think it worked on multiple levels. It’s a driving force for the plot (the reason the team go to the restaurant and they stumble upon that particular waitress), the reason Gamora was already in a bad mood during her fight with Peter, it could be used as a metaphor/comparison for Peter’s anxiety and Gamora’s guilt, it was something for the Guardians to put at a higher priority to tease and mock Gamora for while oblivious to the main story, something for Peter to just break down into giggles over once they changed the subject (because he earned a good laugh after that heartbreaking and vulnerable childhood trauma story), an excuse to give Rocket so many funny lines, an overall silly and sitcommy-style subplot to fall back on, and a sweet “victory!” for Gamora to have (sort of?) conquered by the epilogue. ^_^2: What scene did you first put down?

This is easy. I’ve written all but one (8 out of 9) of my fanfics in order, except for “Just Like Everybody Else.” So ya, I wrote the opening scene first, Baby Groot’s magic trick lesson and Peter’s oh-so-cruel “can only be seen once” deception. I needed to ease readers (and myself) into the angst and heavy shit to follow, and that cute idea had also been in the back of my mind for a while. ^_^

**********

PHEW, OKAY, ALL RE-TYPED! Thank you again SO MUCH for the lovely ask and wonderful questions, your actual interest and curiosity thrilled me! You see I wasn’t kidding about the incessant babbling. :P

Thank you also for the kudos you left on AO3, and take care!~

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jellybeanforest-a-go-go · 6 years

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WIP List

I’m writing really slow these days because I’m bogged down with so many WIPs that I work on a little at a time as the mood strikes. Many of them have yet to be published, but I thought it would be fun to make a list. I like lists. I like crossing things off lists even better.

1) Robbing the Grave: Kraglin knows it might be wrong, but he just can’t help himself. In which Yondu is an unwitting DILF, Kraglin is counting down the years until a possible relationship with his captain becomes borderline socially-acceptable, and Peter may just about lose his damn mind now that his best friend is dead-set on banging his sort-of Dad. Status: 8/13 Chapters Published. (Yes, it grew yet another chapter. I know, I’m surprised, too.) The rest has been about half written.

2) No Regerts: Peter comes of age, Kraglin takes him out for a disasterous night on the town, and both attempt to hide their matching tattoos from Yondu until they can get them removed. Status: Half Written (About 5,500 words and counting so far). This will likely be the next fic I publish.

3) Macho, Macho Man: Yondu is the alpha-male captain of the manliest band of space pirates in the Galaxy. With all that ambient testosterone, he couldn’t possibly enjoy bottoming. Nope. No siree.… Until a skinny little slip of a Xandarian makes it his personal mission to show him what he’s been missing. Status: Okay, so the thing is... this is shameless smut I only write when I’m in a certain mood. Everything I’m too embarrassed to put in my regular fics happens here with the barest whiff of an actual plot. If my other fics are generally 90% plot and 10% vague sex or tasteful fade to black, this fic is 90% sex and 10% plot, if I’m being generous. It’ll get published... eventually... If I can stop blushing long enough to finish and edit it.

4) Whistling Dixie: Just because it didn’t last doesn’t mean it was a mistake. In which Yondu is a prickly asshole with baggage for days, Martinex is stable and the best boyfriend he can ask for, and Kraglin is there at the end to pick up the pieces. Yondex with eventual Kragdu. Status: Storyboarded

5) Hell Hath No Fury: Everyone is the protagonist of their own life story. In which Taserface is Yondu’s ambitious ex who he trades in for a younger model after growing apart over a number of years. He grows bitter as he watches Yondu and Kraglin build a life together, waiting for his chance at vengeance where he will take everything Yondu holds dear. When Peter betrays them, he sees his opportunity to seize everything he thinks he’s ever wanted. Status: Storyboarded

6) Unnamed Oneshot for the Rookerstash-after-dark Trope Challenge. It’s tentatively titled Combat Pragmatist, which is just the name of the trope I’ll be using. Status: Storyboarded

#WIPs #Fanfiction

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elataanarchive · 6 years

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M E T A - THE MILANO .

DO NOT REBLOG.

PAINTED IN THE VISION OF PETER’S FATHER’S MUSTANG ( which leads me to believe the mustang was going to be passed onto peter when he was able to drive ), the milano is an M CLASS ship given to him by yondu when peter was twelve years old. peter had always struggled with learning to fight but piloting his ship? it came naturally to him. the milano is named after alyssa milano, his childhood crush. since peter was given the ship, he never really took as good care of it as he would had he had bought the ship himself, so it’s not uncommon for the milano to be in worse for wear in terms of scratches and dings on the outside. the milano in its first edition was rather small, more as what we see in the first movie, but by the time infinity war rolls around, the milano has been worked on and updated ( mainly by rocket ). I will talk about the differences we see in MY VERSION of the milano and what we see in the movies.

PETER’S BEDROOM . peter has his own bedroom. granted, it’s not an enormous bedroom, as the milano isn’t large enough to have such a room, but it’s there all the same. it’s large enough to fit a decent sized bed and has an enormous window overlooking space ( similar to the windows we see in the kitchen / lounge room ). the room is messy ---- peter has no organizational skills whatsoever, so his clothes - dirty & clean - are littered all over the place. other than clothes, though, he’s relatively clean. he doesn’t keep trash around or anything.

COTS . littered around the milano are little spaces built into the walls for beds. there’s enough for the other guardians and maybe one or two others. due to his mother’s upbringing, peter constantly does keep these cots clean and tidy --- the ones not being used by the other guardians, at least.

THE COCKPIT . the cockpit is very different than that shown in the movies. the chairs are so much better than what we’ve seen. they still swivel, but they’re completed, not just scraps of metal. peter has his own chair at the top that’s slightly larger than others and definitely as extra as he is. there is still the capability of switching controls between all of them ( as we see in the beginning of the second movie ), and there’s a general sameness in terms of the layout that we see in the movies, but there are obvious upgrades since their family seems to be expanding. the seats have better seatbelts and actual CUSHIONS ( u heathens ). he might be extra enough one day to make the chairs in image of mutang car chairs like in his father’s mustang on earth.

SPARRING / WORKOUT ROOM . there is a sparring which doubles as a workout room on the milano. it isn’t used much and when it is, it’s used more often for sparring than for working out. sometimes they’ll solve disputes in there, or place bets, but it’s purpose is to keep them in practice so they don’t die when they’re on one of their missions.

ARMORY . it’s decent sized mainly because there’s so much fucking weapons. everyone on the ship except, perhaps, mantis, is in love with their weapons so you bET this room is just a clusterfuck of weaponry. so much so that this is why rocket is always working on his guns and shit outside in the main areas of the ship because there’s not a lot of room in the armory to do so. knives, swords, grenades, guns, etc etc --- they’ve got it all. there’s some armor, but not much as everyone typically has their own shit they wear and that’s usually kept in their respectable sleeping quarters.

#i only rly talked abt the differences that i have in terms of MY milano #and the one we see in the movies #but i might add more to this later xoxoxo #*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ᵈᵘᵈᵉ ! ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵐʸ ᶰᵉʷ ᵐᶤˣ ᵗᵃᵖᵉ ! / / HEADCANONS.#hc.#ooc.

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trashpandaorigins · 6 years

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**Newly Updated** And If You Don’t Love Me Now Ch. 4

While writing “Heaven Can Wait,” I realized that each story in this trilogy contains the song after which it’s been named! “Sweet Child of Mine,” ends with Rocket singing the song to Baby Groot and in the latest chapter of “Heaven Can Wait,” Groot, Rocket and Peter all listen to the song on Pete’s new tape. I realized however the “And If You Don’t Love Me Now,” didn’t actually have the song “The Chain,” in it! So I edited chapter 4 of the fic to include the song, along with some important connections to Groot’s own crisis he’s working though in the story to give the title new meaning. I hope you enjoy and check out the entire series on my A03 now titled If I Ever Loose My Faith In You

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Being on Contraxia again was like being in his old middle school on Terra, except of course there were sex bots and booze. Peter wasn’t sure which he’d rather face at the moment, his old school or this planet.

“You spoke with her?” Gamora asked, sheathing her sword. Peter nodded, affixing his mini-blaster to his boots.

“Her name is Lady Qula, her assistant told me the location of the headquarters, not far from here. Rocket,” the raccoonoid entered, gun slung onto his shoulder with Groot walking beside him. Peter grinned to himself, it was good to see the two of them side by side; the site of it was getting less frequent and further apart these past few months.

“We ready?” Rocket asked, sounding rather bored. Peter nodded, taking a deep breath to himself as he opened the doors of the Milano. Snow flew into their faces as they walked off the ramp into the crowded multi-colored streets. Beside him Mantis looked around bewildered,

“There are so many people,” she whispered, “so many emotions.” He looked at her wrought face, it suddenly struck him that the empath might be overwhelmed by so many different people pressed together in the streets.

“You gonna be okay?” Mantis glanced at him, looking unsure for a moment before nodding.

“I am Groot,” the adolescent tree appeared to be mesmerized, his game hanging limply in his hands while he stared at the neon lights all around. Peter recalled his first time on the planet, he had much the same look in his eyes. “I think we got time to explore,” he teased, “if you want.” He spotted Gamora’s warning look but shrugged it off. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

“Every time you say that, it never ends up fun,” she observed. He shrugged, knowing she was right and ignoring Groot’s agreeable nod.

“Very well,” Gamora decided as she went off to find more sharpeners and cleaning supplies for her knives. Mantis and Drax decided to tag along with her, Drax promising to take Mantis to a less populated market.

“And then there were three,” Peter turned to Rocket and Groot. “We got time, what would you guys want to do?”

“I am Groot?” The flora colossus asked, pointing inquisitively?

“No!” Rocket snapped, “we are NOT seeing what is in there, let’s find a bar.” He grumbled, and Peter watched the teen role his eyes as they made their way down the streets.

“I am Groot,” he said softly, looking from one alien to another as their stares gloated at him.

“Just ignore them man,” Peter gave him a pat on the back, remembering how it felt to have everyone in the crowd train their eyes on you. Out here in the remote quadrants Terrans were rarely seen. Rocket eventually found a dive bar and they slid into the darkened room, finding a table removed from the others. Rocket ordered an Asguardian draft with a shot of fire rippor, Peter his usual Yagger Lager.

“I am Groot?” The trees question warmed the humies heart,

“Of course you can pick the music!” Peter slid him several units, excited to see what he would choose. Whenever Rocket got fed up with coaxing or Gamroa and Drax couldn’t calm him, Peter would lie with Groot when he was little and listen to music with him until he fell asleep. The effect was rubbing off, much to his delight. Taking a sip of his drink, he watched the raccooniod who watched the Flora colossus. The enchanting words of Fleetwood Mac lifted through the bar, “Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise, running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies and if, you don't love me now, you will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, you would never break the chain (Never break the chain)”

“Damn my own lies,” Rocket muttered starring into his drink.

“You’re doing good man. He’s gonna be fine.” The raccoonoid glared, Peter readied himself for a cutting remark, but it didn’t come. Rocket only shook his head, looking forlorn down at his drink. Peter swallowed. “You’re doing a heck of a lot better than…then Yondu did.” The raccoonoid’s bright red eyes looked up, ears pinned back.

“That’s not sayin’ much.” The humie had no choice but to agree.

“He’s just a kid, I was like that too when I was his age.”

“Yeah, remind you why Yondu didn’t let you get killed by that phsyco planet?” Peter shook his head, laughing as he took another swig of drink.

“Fair enough.” They sat together silently but it was not as uncomfortable as it once was. It had taken a while for Peter to realize that the only good thing to come of Yondu’s death was that it had made Rocket change, for the better. Instead of being a grumpy, emotionally unpredictable drunkard every day, the enhanced raccoon was now a grumpy, emotionally unpredictable drunkard most days. Whatever time Rocket had spent with Yondu, it had been formative.

“And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, you would never break the chain (Never break the chain), listen to the wind blow, down comes the night. Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies, break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light.” The sultry voice of Stevie Nicks echoed through the juke box,

“Never break the chain!!” Peter pumped his fist at the tune, singing along. Rocket only shook his head, going up to the counter once more.

“I am Groot?” Groot slid into the booth next to Peter. The humie nodded to Rocket who now sat at the bar with said drink alone. Groot listened to the music he’d selected, working through the multiple versions of the question he was so frightened to ask. “And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again, I can still hear you saying. You would never break the chain (Never break the chain.)” The guitar ripped through the air as Fleetwood Mac sang. Rocket’s love is a chain, damn him and damn whatever lie he’s telling, Groot thought vehemently. And if his family did not love him now, when he wanted to badly, so angrily to know the truth, they would never love him again. It’s now or never, Groot decided as the last sounds of “Never break the chain,” evaporated. I will break this chain. He looked up at the human before him.

“I am Groot,” Peter nodded,

“Go for it.” He watched Groot look down at the table, then at where Rocket sat, then back to Peter, those large eyes full of urgency and wonder, and, Peter thought, taking another drink-some desperate need.

“I am Groot.” The question shocked him. He finished swallowing his drink and cleared his throat.

“I…I don’t think I’m the best person to answer that dude…” but the adolescents face was full of longing, something Peter knew all to well. That need to know who you are, where you came from. Peter had once joked with Rocket, over an empty keg, about the inevitable identity crisis Groot would face. He never actually expected to be a part of it.

“I am Groot?!”

“What happened before Xandar….well there was this infinity stone,” Peter stalled, looking over had praying Rocket would come back any minute.

“I am Groot!” The teen snapped.

“Okay, so Rocket told you about that, and so yeah, that was pretty much it.” But one look at Groot’s face told Peter he’d better shut up and answer truthfully.

“Listen Groot…there’s a lot of stuff that happened, before, during and after Xandar. None of it pretty. And I love you man but…I’m not the one that’s got those answers.” Why couldn’t Groot have asked ANYONE but him? He ran his hand over his face.

“I am Groot,” Groot whispered vehemently. He rose to stand, refusing to look at Peter who’s heart sank. Did Yondu feel like this every day?

He forced himself to stand, swishing the last of his drink around at the bottom of the glass before drinking it.

“Call me a rodent one more time!” Oh no. Peter and Groot exchanged horrified glances as the large purple alien creature loomed over Rocket and his fifth shot of Asgardian whisky.

“You heard me,” the plump alien sneered, he spat at Rocket’s bar stool, “rodent.” Everything happened all at once, Rocket reached for his gun, Peter dove to intercept and Groot let loose his left arm, hitting the alien squarely in the jaw, knocking him down on to the bar table.

“Groot!” Peter called, but even as he shouted he knew it was too late.

“What in the name of Quendlin’s stars….” the alien man wiped his tender cheek with a single tentacle like arm, staring at Groot for a moment before standing and barreling into the flora colossus.

“Dammnit Groot!” Rocket shouted, watching as the tree slammed into a table, sending the patrons scattering. Peter slapped his hand to his face, checking the time. They were supposed to be meeting Lady Qula in a half hour. Gamora was right, as usual Peter thought, wishing she was here now.

“I am Groot!” Groot cried out, wrapping his vines around the large alien who pummeled him.

“Rocket,” Peter half warned, half begged, watching the raccoonoid cock his gun, that trigger-happy look on his face all too familiar. “Rocket, Rocket don’t…” Shhhcrraaakkk!! Peter growled to himself, running for where Groot now looked down at himself in shock. The alien man’s yellow teeth twisted into a grin, a knife in his hand.

“Freak!” He hissed, advancing on Groot. If it had been a less dire situation, Peter might have laughed at that same look he’d warn himself many times before. The flora colossus’s mouth hung open in shock and panic. Peter flung himself ontop of the squishy alien,

“Rocket, get Groot!” But Rocket was already at the tree’s side, ears pinned back, gun ready. “What are you doing don’t shoot!” He screamed, struggling to hold the thug down.

“I’m gonna shoot him in his kurtuckan head Quill, move!” The alien wiggled in the humie’s hold and Peter let out muffled “Ummph,” as a burly fist knocked him in the side.

“I am Groot!” Groot righted himself, sending his vines flying and constricting around the alien who screamed.

“No! Groot! Just let Quill and I handle this!” Peter managed to roll out of the way as one of Groot’s thorn ridden vines struck out, missing the purple goon by an inch.Said goon clutched his knife and slammed the butt of it into Groot’s eye. Scrambling to his feet Peter watched Rocket attempting to pull Groot away from his advisory but to no avail. It was easy to forget sometimes, how larger the flora colossus was compared to the raccoon like creature.

“A flarking animal and a flarking tree, I’m gonna tear you limb from limb and roast your friend over a fire!” The alien growled, spitting out bloody fangs. Peter reached for his gun as he lay on the floor on his belly. Quickly he switched the weapon from kill to stun and took aim,

“Groot move!” He shouted at the teen who had moved easily out of Rocket’s hold and now was suffering for it. The heafty thug clobbered at him, swinging his fist which Groot tried with increasing failure to block. The small cuts of thorns doing little to hinder him.

“Groot!” Peter shouted, struggling to aim, “move it!” Flarking listen to me for once, he begged. Groot looked up, his left eye closed over with cracked bark. He pivoted just in time for Peter to shoot, striking the alien in the shoulder. He stopped, eyes large, went to raise his arm for a final swing at Groot but only shook all over before collapsing. Without wasting time, Peter ran forward, grabbing Groot’s arm and Rocket’s tail, hurrying out of the bar.

“You fucking dumbass, let go of me!” Rocket’s sharp claws smacked at Peter’s hand. Groot stood, slouching, one arm holding his torso. The humie himself panted, examining his own wounds as the three of them panted in the ally way.

“Let me see,” Rocket instructed. Struggling to look up at Groot’s side.

“I am Groot!”

“Yeah I’m sure it’s fine, I just wanna look.” Peter watched him reluctantly move his arm away and his stomach dropped at what he saw. The outer layer of brown bark and leaves on Groot’s left side had been stripped bar, leaving exposed whiteish yellow wood in place, shorn and splintering from just under his armpit to his waist.

“Dammnit Groot you can’t pick fights with people who are stronger then you.”

“Rocket you do that all the time,” Peter put in, hoping to win Groot over. The raccoonoid only hissed,

“Shut up Quill.”

“Guys, we gotta meet our contact,” Peter mumbled, glancing at the time. Rocket cursed but started walking with a slight limp. “C’mon Groot,” the humie tried, patting Groot on the back. The flora colossus shoved him off,

“I am Groot,” he whispered nastily. Peter watched him go. Sure Groot had every right to be mad at him for not telling him anything about what happened before. But Peter knew that duty didn’t belong to him. Like so many other things, that was Rocket’s burden to bare.

#rocket raccoon #my writing #groot #teen groot #and if you don't love me now

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rootbeergoddess · 6 years

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A Girl from Slyria-X04

Fellow Rooker Hooker @beenerdish gave me some money and I wrote her a story featuring a female reader and Yondu. Of course, I was more than happy to write something featuring Blue Space Bae. Like this story? You can commission me to write something for you or leave me a tip. Thank to my dearest friend @bunnikkila for helping with editing.

Living on Slyria-X04 wasn’t too bad. You had a steady job at a local inn which doubled as a bar and you were tipped very well. Most of the people who came your way weren’t the most reputable people in the world but they drank a lot so that meant more money for you. Your life was pretty decent if a bit boring sometimes. You had a job, a home and that was all you needed right?

“Y/N, you’re not going to believe it but we have Ravagers coming!”

“That’s nice Iclus,” you said as you cleaned some mugs. “I hear they drink a lot.”

“And they fuck a lot too!” Iclus giggled.

“You’re disgusting,” you said with a laugh. “Don’t you ever stop thinking about sex?”

“Nope!” Iclus replied with a grin. “Besides, Ravagers are sexy. Pirates are always sexy.”

You just shook your head as you continued your work. Soon enough, the Ravagers came to port. They shuffled into the inn, loud and rowdy. You looked up from the bar and realized that you recognized one of them. He was an elderly Centurian with a red fin; you had seen his face many times before on wanted posters and videograms. Yondu Udonta, one of the Ravager captains. He seemed larger than life in person.

You stopped staring as he came towards the bar. Smiling, you leaned forward and put on your best salesperson face.

“What can I get for you sir?” you asked.

“Drinks for everybody here!” Yondu declared. “Drinks are on me!”

Hollering was heard as Yondu transferred the credits over. Wow, he was loaded. Couldn’t complain about that.

“Did you have a good day at work?” you asked as you began to pour ale.

“I sure did sugar,” Yondu leaned on the bar. “But my day just got a whole lot better.”

“Really? How come?”

“I gotta see a pretty girl and now she’s talking to me.” He winked at you.

Oh, he was a flirt. Not that you minded. Despite his age, Yondu was handsome; there was something rugged about him. Smiling, you continued to fill up the mugs and then went to pass them out. When you came back, Yondu was still sitting there. His eyes were glued to you. Normally, having such attention would bother you; you ran into a lot of creeps since you were a woman who worked at a bar. But you found yourself like Yondu’s attention. Giving him a small grin, you filled up a few more mugs and passed them off to your co-worker.

“Hey girly,” Yondu suddenly said. “You got a name?”

“Yes. It’s Y/N,” you replied. “Why you interested?”

“I just like knowing the names of pretty ladies.”

“You’re terrible, do you know that?” you asked, grinning at him.

“Oh yes, I know. I like hearing you say it though.”

He was actively flirting with you. Out in the open, loud enough for people to hear. And you were loving it. You find yourself wanting his attention. Was that strange? Probably. You didn’t know him. Like - at all. The two of you were complete and total strangers but you found yourself liking Yondu. There was something interesting about him.

The rest of the night continued. The whole night, Yondu stayed at the bar so he could talk to you. His men drank and while he nursed his mug, he seemed more interested in you. You wondered if Yondu could tell you enjoyed his attention. If he did, he made no mention of it. However, when he got up to leave, you did frown slightly. Yes, he had to leave but you wished he could stay. But that was the nature of bar patrons. Better not to dwell with it.

“You gonna be here next weekend sweetheart?”

“Um--yes,” you felt yourself get excited.

“Good. I’ll be seeing you then.”

Yondu winked before turning around and joining his men who were stumbling out of the bar. Once they were gone, you did a small dance of joy.

The rest of the week seemed to drag on. It was frustrating. You had to work of course and you did work but you were also distracted. You kept thinking about Yondu. All you wanted was to see him again. It was so surreal. The two of you had only met once but you felt like you had a connection with him. It was hard to explain. As you continued throughout the week, all you could do was think about the alien captain.

“Y/N!”

“What?” You jumped up slightly.

“Man, you sure have been distracted,” Iclus commented. “What is going on with you?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing, really,” you lied.

Iclus stared at you before shrugging. You gave them a smile. You didn’t know why you didn’t want to tell them about Yondu. Maybe it was because you felt foolish. Why did you care so much about this man you didn’t know? Because he flirted with you a bit? That didn’t make sense. Besides, you didn’t feel like being laughed at.

“Well, well, well,” A familiar voice startled you. “Look who it is.”

“Yondu!” you said a bit too enthusiastically. “Oh, it’s nice to see you again!”

“And it’s nice to see a pretty, little thing like you again,” Yondu leaned against the bar. “Did ya miss me? I bet you did.”

“Believe it or not, I did,” you gave him a small grin. “How have you been?”

“Ah, it’s the same old, same old,” Yondu sat down. “What about you?”

“Life has been pretty boring,” you replied. “I mean it’s not as interesting as being the captain of a fleet of space pirates.”

“Yeah, I’ve got stories,” Yondu scratched his chin. “I could tell you a few.”

“I’d love that but---”

“Hey Y/N, boss said you could take a break,” Iclus suddenly said. “Go ahead.”

You blinked. Glancing behind Iclus, you saw your boss give a thumbs up and a smile. Did he know? Did Iclus know? Either way, you weren’t going to complain. You untied your apron and set it aside. Yondu’s grin continued to grow as you walked around the bar to him. You sat down, returning his grin with one of your own.

“This night keeps getting better,” Yondu said. “Now, how about I tell you the story about my adventures?”

So he told you many stories of his life being a pirate. You listened to every single one, completely entranced. Yondu was a master storyteller. He had a knack for telling stories, making all those around interested to hear what he had to say. Honestly, you could have listened to him talk all night. That is what you did until it was time for him to go. Once more, you were sad but Yondu promised he’d come back next week.

And he did.

He came back the week after that as well.

Every week he came back and each time, your boss was kind enough to give you a break. And the two of you talked. You found everything Yondu had to say interesting. Maybe it was because your life was so dull compared to his. He had seen the universe while you? You had never left your home planet. What was so interesting about Slyria-X04? Honestly, nothing. There was nothing that put your dull, little planet on the map. Sure you had a good, job but Slyria-X04 had no culture or history to speak it. It was just a place for people to get drinks and hang out.

Yondu had seen it all - or at least it sounded like he had. He had even been to Terra where he picked up the boy who would be Star-Lord. This was one of Yondu’s favorite subjects; he probably wouldn’t admit it, but when Yondu talked about Peter Quill aka Star-Lord, he sounded very proud. According to Yondu, he taught Peter everything he knows from flirting to shooting. It was like a papa bragging about how wonderful their child was. Honestly? You found it adorable.

“So tell me Miss Pretty,” He said one night. “Do you ever want to see the stars?”

“Yes,” you answered without missing a beat. “God, yes. I would do anything to see the stars.”

“Hm,” Yondu rubbed his chin. “Well what is a ruggedly handsome pirate with nice biceps came around and offered to whisk you away?”

“Yondu, are you---offering what I think you’re offering?” you asked

“Yes,” Yondu leaned forward. “Listen Y/N, you’re a special lady. I can tell you’re smart and resourceful. Not to mention you’re that bad to look at it. Why don’t you join me?”

“But what would I do? I can’t really fight or anything.”

“I could teach you. There are tons of talents I have that I can pass on down. Some safe for work and others?” Yondu waggled his eyebrows.

Again, you laughed. How was he so good at making you feel so relaxed? He managed to make you smile, make you laugh and also make you feel extremely wanted.

“So if I dropped everything and went with you, you’d let me stay on your ship for as long as I want?” you asked.

“Yep. I promise you sugar, as long as you want. If you get homesick, I’ll bring you right back here.”

“I doubt that will happen,” you told him with a smile. “But okay. I’ll come with you. Just give me time to pack tonight.”

“Wow.”

Yondu had talked about the beauty of the stars before. Of course, you thought he had been playing up grandeur but standing on the bridge of his ship and staring out into the vast wonder of space, you realized he hadn’t been fibbing. The galaxy was filled with so many gorgeous colors that seemed to blend together. Everything about space was so large but you could feel that you were part of it. Despite being so small, you mattered. Seeing this gorgeousness every day was going to be a perk of being with Yondu.

“It’s gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yeah, you are,” Yondu leaned against the walk, looking at you.

“Stop it,” You chuckled, feeling your cheeks turning red. “You’re terrible.”

“Nah, I just know what I like. I like pretty women. Therefore, I like you,” he purred. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the ship.”

You walked towards Yondu and he wrapped an arm around you. It was hard to keep the smile off your face. Yes, you were falling for Yondu. You had tried to stop it but it had been so hard and now, you were just going with the flow. It was obvious that Yondu was attracted to you so why fight it? Originally, you had been worried about getting your heartbroken but what was life without a little risk?

“I really can’t believe I’m here,” you said with a sigh. “This is a bit surreal.”

“I never thought I’d have a lady as pretty as you on my arm,” Yondu returned.

“Well, maybe someone up in the sky likes you,” you said, giving him a small smile. “And brought me into your life to make it better.”

“Ah, now she warms up!” Yondu chuckled. “Nice. I’m glad you got your wits about you too. You’ll need that. Now to your room.”

The room wasn’t much. It was small, cramped and a bit dirty. But you loved it. You could clean the room and you didn’t need much. For now, you were content with this. You were in the stars with Yondu. You couldn’t ask for more.

Well, there was one thing you wanted.

You turned to Yondu and before he could say anything, you pulled him forward and kissed him. Thankfully, he kissed you back. When you pulled back, the two of you were smiling.

“I knew I made a good choice,” he said, his hand at your waist.

“You sure did,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his neck. “So do I get another kiss?”

#Rootbeer Writes #Guardians of the Galaxy #Yondu #Yondu Udonta #Reader #Self Insert

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popcornblotter · 6 years

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My Top 10 Favorite Films of 2017

Good news everyone! No need for intros here, let’s end the year on a high note shall we! Here, we, go!

#10

Writer/Director Sofia Coppola further proves her mastery of filmmaking with The Beguiled. A drama set in Virginia during the Civil War when a wounded Union soldier makes his way to an all girls school in the summer, the Headmistress and students wonder what to do with him, and subsequently find out how he affects their lives.

The biggest standout for me was the lighting and cinematography. Each shot is perfectly well framed as well as only using light sources that would be available in that setting. Candles, lanterns, and the sun brought this ambiance of uneasiness. The location of schoolhouse and it’s surroundings was marvelous as well, transporting you to an almost ethereal bayou of sorts.

Colin Farrell continues to impress as he furthers his career. Bringing an edge of quiet fear, seduction, and anger all within a 95 minute runtime.

I know this film was very divisive for comic book fans, and I can understand some of their qualms, but Justice League was just a heck of a lot of fun.

I loved the coming together of the team, as well exploring a bit into the newer character’s stories. Ezra Miller and Jason Momoa were the standout actors here.

I loved the humor, the interactions between the characters, and man did I love the scene when The Flash knew he was in trouble.

Despite it’s problems, the sometimes not great CGI, I still had fun, and would easily revisit this film again as it made me hopeful for what is to come from DC Films.

The first time I saw this movie, I wasn’t super crazy on it. Did I think it was funny? Yes, but something didn’t quite hit the first time. So after a second viewing, I grew to love this film. While the first Guardians is a little more straight forward, plot wise, stop the bad guys from doing this, and save the day. Guardians 2 is a little less structured, there isn’t a necessary Point A-Point B plot because most of this film is exploring familial relationships. Whether its Peter and his dad, Gamora and Nebula, or Yondu and Rocket. It brings forward the idea that your family doesn’t always have to be blood. And by the time this movie ends, I was a mess.

Blade Runner 2049 was a surprise for me this year. Mainly because I’ve never seen the original. I was curious, it looked cool, I’ve enjoyed director Denis Villeneuve’s work in the past, so I thought I’d give it a shot.

The way this film is shot is extraordinary. You could take any shot out of this film and have it be a painting on your wall. The sound was so booming and explosive it transported you to this neo-noir Los Angeles. The acting is superb as well, especially the chemistry between Ryan Gosling and Ana de Armas. You felt from the first scene they have that this is a couple who’ve known each other for a while.

My only nitpick with this film is a pro and a con, which is it’s pacing. This film moves much slower than a normal film does these days. It has a very slow pace, which I enjoyed for most of it, because it allowed you to soak in this world with so much to see and hear. But towards the end, when things start coming together, you expect for things to speed up, which they don’t. In that, its very realistic to a world that is far removed from ours. I’d just hoped it would’ve wrapped up a little faster.

Despite that nitpick, I loved this film, its great, and it is genuinely a great mystery that keeps you guessing until the end.

This past July, the web slinging, wall crawler returned to the MCU in a big way.

The biggest achievement of this movie is the cast that is multi-racial, extremely talented, and can make you laugh at a moments notice. Director Jon Watts was able to represent the population of New York with the characters they have, even changing the origins of some to fit the story.

Tom Holland is obviously the standout, being able to be funny, awkward, and charming all in one go. I just loved that we actually got a high school looking Spider-Man. Yes, I know Tom Holland is in his 20’s, but it’s all about what age you can play, not what age you are. Versus Maguire and Garfield, looking like they were both about start investing in 401k’s.

Michael Keaton as The Vulture does a great job, probably being the second best villain, behind Loki. He was able to make you understand where he was coming from and why he was doing what he was doing.

This is a big thumbs up for me that’ll have you laughing all the way through.

All I can say is cool, cool, cool. I’ve been a fan of writer/director Edgar Wright for a bit, and his films always have this top, fun layer that you can appreciate, but then there’s this emotional layer underneath that just hits it home, and Baby Driver is no exception.

Ansel Elgort plays Baby, a get away driver with tinnitus, so to drown out the ringing in his ears, he constantly plays music on old iPods. What comes out of this film is a rollicking good time with all of the great witty dialogue Wright is known for, along some of the best edited action I’ve seen in a film. Since we watch the film through Baby’s perspective, we’re constantly hearing the music he’s listening to, either loud, or droned out. But when the action kicks up, you can’t help but say wow as gunshots and hits are timed perfectly to soundtrack in Baby’s ears. And I’m just a nerd for that kind of stuff.

Ansel Elgort has charm coming out of his ears in this film, and makes you wonder how he isn’t swarmed by women everywhere he goes. You also have a great supporting cast in Jon Hamm, Jon Bernthal, Jamie Foxx, and a small role from Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

If you’re looking for an action flick with a twist check this one out.

With no surprise to myself, Marvel Studios gets another spot on this list with Thor: Ragnarok. I was immediately hooked into this new tone change from the first trailer. Marvel was finally going to let Chris Hemsworth do what he does best, and that’s be hysterical. I think the person to thank for that is New Zealand director, Taika Waititi, who’s known for wacky, off the cuff humor that works brilliantly.

I was hooked within the first minute when Thor is trapped in a cage, talking to someone about how he got there, and they flip the camera, and it’s a skeleton, which then proceeds to drop his jaw. That is the type of ridiculous humor I love. We then get a taste of the awesome action accompanied by Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song. And I was smiling ear to ear like a fool.

While the previous Thor movies have been done with a more serious, Shakespearean tone, this one goes for crazy, balls out, 80’s metal look with almost every frame look like something you’d want painted on the side of a van.

All of the actors were great. Tessa Thompson was great as Valkyrie, I loved the appearance by Benedict Cumberbatch as Doctor Strange, and of course you can’t forget Tom Hiddleston as Loki and his chemistry with Hemsworth. Other great additions were Jeff Goldblum as The Grandmaster and Taika Waititi voicing a rock alien named Korg.

To me this was the tightest made film that Marvel Studios put out, with a crisp runtime of a little more than two hours it’s just enough to make you want more, but not long enough to check your phone.

Anyone who knows me knew this would be on my top 10 of the year. I’m a Star Wars nut! What can I say that I haven’t already? Porgs, porgs, porgs, porgs, and porgs.

If you haven’t seen this film yet, do yourself a favor and get your ass to theater.

I’ll be completely honest here, I didn’t have high hopes for Wonder Woman. At the time, here’s a studio with three movies with mixed results critically, and this one being directed by someone who hadn't made a film since 2003. But I went opening day with some slight chance of hope. And I gladly ate my words.

Words can’t necessarily describe how great a film Wonder Woman is. Patty Jenkins made what some have called a masterpiece in superhero filmmaking. I agree with about 98% of that. My only qualm was that on the second viewing in the theater, I did feel its runtime a little more, which is why it isn’t in the number 1 spot.

Gal Gadot and Chris Pine have a romance that seems practical for the amount of time they spent together, it seemed genuine, and I loved how Diana would call people out on their shit if she thought they were wrong. The No Man’s Land sequence left me in tears of joy at how wonderful everything worked from the cinematography, the music, the acting, the action, just everything.

You can’t miss this one, even if you aren’t a fan of DC characters, this is just a damn good movie.

I wanted to put some honorable mentions that didn’t quite make the cut.

What would’ve been #12

Christopher Nolan’s war film, Dunkirk is a technical marvel. The cinematography is breath taking and the sound scared the shit out of me. I saw this in an IMAX theater and when bullets fired, you never knew where they were coming from until they made contact. This literally made me jump several times throughout. The reason that this didn’t make the top 10 is that none of the characters particularly stood out in any way. I could tell you the names of the actors, but not their character’s names.

What would’ve been #11

The reason It isn’t higher is because I’m not a fan of horror movies. But I was intrigued at all of the critical success this movie was gaining, so I saw it with a few friends.

The reason this movie works as well as it does is because of the writing and the great child actors they got. Aside from Finn Wolfhard, of Stranger Things fame, the rest of these kids were unknown. But damn it if they didn’t knock it out of the park with their acting chops and chemistry. But if it wasn’t for that reason, I probably would’ve left the theater within ten minutes because I don’t do scary well. And as much as I enjoyed this one, I probably won’t revisit it.

And my favorite film of 2017 is

Logan is the perfect combination of my two favorite types of films. Action blockbusters and deep, emotional character pieces. When I went into Logan, I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I’d heard it took some inspiration from some of the comics where Wolverine is an older man, but that was about it. What I got was something that seriously fucked me up.

Like a lot of people, I grew up with Hugh Jackman playing Wolverine since the first X-men film in 2000. And it seemed with each iteration Jackman tried to deepen the character to reveal Logan’s core, instead of just being a mindless killing machine. With this you get the best of both worlds. Jackman stripped Wolverine down to the point it seems like he’s given up and is ready to die. But at the same time we get to see what would actually be the effects of a guy with claws for hands mauling people like an animal, and you learn that in the first few minutes. It is gory, but damn is it awesome!

Patrick Stewart also has a phenomenal performance as a Charles Xavier that we’ve never seen the likes of in the films. His mind wandering, breaking down, plagued by what I assume is the mutant version of dementia or Alzheimer’s. Seeing Stewart’s and Jackman’s near 20 years of working together is heart warming, heart breaking, and brutal.

This film also breeds a new star in newcomer Dafne Keen as Laura. This is a girl who is wise beyond her years as an actress. For about the first half of the film she doesn’t say a word, but you see all the emotion in her face communicated brilliantly. She is definitely someone who will have a prosperous career.

What director James Mangold succeeds with Logan is that he’s able to make a superhero film, but not have it be about something super, per se, but makes it about something everyone can relate to, family. Whether it’s Logan’s relationship to Charles, Logan to Caliban, Logan to Laura, its about the relationships that you grow with and foster when you inevitably have to say goodbye. Mangold was able to make a western, a superhero film, a family piece, a deep character study, an action film. This literally has something for almost everyone. I think Logan is the perfect example of what the superhero genre could and should become.

I’ll be completely honest, like I said before, this movie fucked me up. And I was crying for almost the last five minutes. And for me to cry at a piece of media, whether it be a series or movie isn’t uncommon, but to the degree that I did was what stayed with me. It was a typical silent cry that I usually do with most films I see, but this was uncontrollable, hard breathing, loud noised, ugly face sobbing. When the word “Daddy” is said, I lose it every time.

I guess I didn’t expect to get as attached to this film as I did. But I guess with Jackman playing that character for as long as he did, he sort of became synonymous with that role. I guess it’s to the effect of Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker or Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter. But the sendoff Jackman and Mangold give this character is one of pure mastery, sadness, and hope. With the Fox/Disney deal, there is some part of me that wishes Jackman will return as Wolverine for the MCU, but if he doesn’t, that’s fine as well. Because this film is all but perfect to me.

I hope this film gets nominations for Jackman, Stewart, Keen, and Mangold for the Oscars because I think it deserves it because it broke boundaries of what a superhero film could be. And that is why Logan is my favorite film of 2017.

I want to thank you guys for reading this and for the support. Here’s hoping that 2018 will be even better! In the vain of a dumb catchphrase I tried to start years ago, stay tuned for more blotter!

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occasionalfics · 7 years

Text

The Arrow and the Flame, xxv

part xxiv

Summary: You hate what you have to do, but you know you have to do it.

A/N: I would say I’m sorry about the drama and the pain but...I’m really not. I live for it >:D Only have something like 20 pages left to edit, which I think translates to maybe 3 more chapters if I’m counting right. But not to worry, if you like this story, I’ve got a Kraglin X Reader one coming soon!

Tags: @thewildomega @pitrymcbride @fandommemporiumm @grippleback-galaxy

Words: 2,683

~~~

You didn’t tell your father at first. You didn’t know how. Every fiber of your existence told you to keep quiet, to let him finish the job, and hope no one ever got word of what Yondu was doing. You wanted him safe. You wanted him to stop making stupid decisions, and you wanted him to stay within the Alliance.

You’d never seen a Ravager be exiled. You didn’t know what that entailed, exactly. You didn’t bother asking Martinex or your father, because that would be too suspicious. You surprised yourself by going to Dunker, who’d taken on a new Apprentice since Kraglin left.

“Can I help you, Officer?” he asked as you stood in the door to his workshop.

You nodded. “What do you know about what happens to factions if a Captain gets exiled?” you asked, knowing he wouldn’t ask more questions.

He shrugged. “Accordin’ to the manual, the whole faction either has to defy their Captain and pledge allegiance to another faction, or they go down with the ship.”

“Okay,” you said, stepping into the room. You took a seat in a chair close to where Dunker was. “But what happens after that?”

“What’dya mean after?” he asked. “There ain’t no after. They ain’t part of the Alliance no more, and that’s it.”

“They don’t disband? The Captain doesn’t surrender anything - they keep the ships, the men, everything?” you asked.

“It ain’t our business what the Captain does afterwards. We don’t see’em as a Captain no more. If they paid for the ship themselves, they keep it. If it’s Alliance property - whatever is Alliance property, actually, gets repossessed. But if it’s theirs, they keep it.”

That gave you some comfort. Yondu owned the Elector, and just about everything in it. At least he could survive after…

But It would be your fault. No, you reminded yourself. It would be his. Still, you had to be the one to say something. You were the only one outside of the Elector that knew, besides Ego.

Ego. You’d never liked him, but now your stomach churned angrily at the thought of his name. You didn’t know the exact extent of a Celestial’s powers, but you hoped it involved long-wave telepathy. You’d like him to know how much you hated him, how much he’d taken from you, and how much he still had to take.

You let out a sigh you didn’t realize you’d been keeping in and nodded. “Thanks, Dunker,” you said before standing and marching out of his office, out of the weapons room, and up to the third deck.

It was now or never. You were fueled by the anger Ego’s image in your head brought on. You didn’t think you’d be able to summon the courage you needed to do this without that. You needed to get this out. It was eating away at you, making you miserable every second of every day. Maybe you’d be more miserable after, but you needed to say something.

A small part of you hoped your father would go easy on Yondu. He was still young, still rather new at being Captain. He was bound to make mistakes, right? This was a colossal one, but maybe he’d be put on suspension or something. There had to be protocol for that.

You took a breath to calm the warring parts of you as you stood outside the cockpit doors. You closed your eyes for a minute, felt your mark, and felt the distant pang of loneliness you’d thought you had outgrown. Maybe it really was dependant on how far apart you were. Maybe it had to do with emotional distance, too, since you felt so extremely far from Yondu. That might be a good thing. It’d be easier to sell him out if you didn’t think it would break you.

You opened the door and found your father was alone. Martinex must’ve been at lunch, you figured. Good. You didn’t think you’d be able to do this with an audience.

“Papa,” you said after the door shut.

He turned the Captain’s chair around and gave a hmph, his brows raised.

You approached him, fiddling with the long nail on your middle finger. “I… Um.” You breathed. “I have to tell you something. Something important but…”

“But?” he asked when you hadn’t gone on.

You almost bit your lip to hold in tears until you realized how that wasn’t going to work. He needed to see your tears anyway. “It’s about Yondu,” you said. “Remember when we disappeared for a while the last day you and I were on the Elector?”

You felt like a child again. It made you more sad than angry. But you had to do this, and you reminded yourself of that.

Your father nodded. “I don’t know if I need the details of your little...rendezvou,” he said.

You wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. This was no laughing matter. “You do, though. Because we didn’t do what I’m sure you think we did,” you told him.

He paused, then nodded. “Proceed.”

“I was trying to see parts of the ship I hadn’t seen yet,” you said.

“In over a year?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t usually spend much time on the ship. But I found a hallway and I was looking for anything interesting in any of the rooms. There wasn’t, for the most part.”

“Why are you crying, (Y/N)?” he asked suddenly, his face changing from lame disinterest to genuine concern. He sat forward in his chair, too.

“I found something in the last room, papa. Something that’ll get Yondu in a lot of trouble.”

“You’re worried about him,” he said. “Of course.”

“Papa, he’s doing illegal jobs for a Celestial.”

He paused, staring blankly at you for too long. You shook and cried and tried to curl into yourself, hating every word you said.

“What jobs?” he asked eventually.

A violent shiver took you over. You couldn’t have stopped it if you wanted to. Your father stood immediately, put his arms around you, and pulled you down into his chair as you continued to shake. You were hot, and your muscles ached like you’d been sparring all day. You briefly wondered if this was normal or a sign from the Stars.

“Sweetness,” he said, using a pet name from your childhood. “I need you to tell me what jobs Yondu’s doing.”

You looked at him, kneeled beside you on the floor. He put a hand on your knee and rubbed your back, easing only a fraction of the discomfort you were experiencing. You nodded through it and tried to breathe.

You licked your lips before going on. “He’s been...transporting children. He says they’re Ego’s.” You watched his eyes grow at the name. “I found one in that room, and Yondu almost killed me for it.”

He didn’t say anything at first. He just stared, wide-eyed, piecing together parts of Stars-only-knew what. His hand on your back paused, too, until you started shaking again. You hated not being in control of your own body, but you couldn’t stop the convulsions. Your heart beat hard against your chest and your head pounded suddenly. You felt like you were falling apart.

Finally, he shook his head and said, “I have to alert the other Captains.” But he didn’t move. He continued to stare at you. “Oh, Sweetness,” he said, a frown taking up room on his face. “I’m so sorry.” He sounded genuine, like for once, he really did regret what he had to do.

You could understand that feeling. And because you could, you let out a loud, sad, terrible moan. You sobbed, openly and without thought, right in the cockpit of the ship that had always been home to you. Until Yondu had shown up, of course. He was home. He had been home. Now it was like...home had a leak, and you hoped that leak wouldn’t exacerbate, but then it did. So you abandoned home, because what else was there for you to do?

You bent over your knees and pressed your eyes into your palms. “Everything hurts,” you said.

Your father’s hand moved across your back again. “I know, Sweetness. I know,” he said.

You didn’t believe him, but you wanted to. You didn’t want to be alone in this pain. You wanted to go to Yondu, to let him know you’d sold him out. It only seemed fair, if fair could even be worked into this whole shitty situation.

You sat there for a while with your father, crying hard and long sobs because that was all your body could handle. After a bit, you looked at him and sighed. “Let me talk to him first, please,” you whispered.

He gave you a pathetic, or rather sympathetic smile and nodded. “Of course,” he said before standing.

You looked up at him and tried to smile, but it didn’t feel right at all. With shaky hands and legs, you pushed yourself up off the chair, fell into his arms, and let your father hug you the way he used to, when you were still a young girl, before you were even a Cadet. Back then, things had been so much simpler.

You pulled back and tried to smile again, but it still felt wrong. All you wanted was to assure your father that everything was going to be fine. But first, you had to convince yourself of the very same thing.

You went to your bunk on the first deck and found your halo pad, then to the room on the second deck, even though the bed was back to a bunk. It was still a comfortable place to be, despite your shaking and hiccuping.

You sat against the wall at the end of the beds and sent a comm, watching yourself on the screen as you waited to connect. It happened quickly, and then Yondu’s face was before you.

He said your name softly, his eyes devoid of color. He looked as hollow as his voice sounded.

You sighed and reminded yourself that he’d gotten himself into this situation, but that didn’t make it better. It wasn’t any easier, what you had to do. “I’m sorry,” you said, even though you knew he should’ve been the one to apologize for putting you through this.

He shook his head, and you thought he must’ve been thinking the same thing. “You had to,” he said. “I know you did.”

“Why did you do it?” you asked. “Was it worth it?”

His lip quivered as he gripped for an answer. “I needed units. I needed to take care’a my ship’n crew. I wanted you to be proud’a me.”

“I was proud of you when you earned everything yourself, when you proved you were good by your own virtue,” you said.

“Darlin’, I ain’t got no virtue. I been used to kill since I was a kid. I thought...maybe I could make some kid’s life better if I got’em to their daddy,” he said. Then he looked away, and tears pooled in the bottoms of his eyes. “Ego’s a jackass, by the way.”

“He’s a Celestial,” you said. “From what I hear, they all are.”

“I ain’t never heard that before,” he said, glancing back at you. “An’ he offered me a lotta units. Each time it was more.”

“How many?” you asked.

He shrugged, but you didn’t buy it.

“How many, Yondu?”

You watched him swallow hard before he answered. “I lost count after 20-somethin’.”

You gasped and shook your head. “How many were on the ship when I was?” you asked, knowing he wouldn’t have an answer. “How many did I walk right past without knowing they would be your undoing?”

“(Y/N), I know I messed up-”

“Not even close,” you said, not caring about the tears that fell then. You let him see how much this hurt, how much he was breaking you. “Do you have any idea of what’ll happen now?”

He didn’t answer because he didn’t know, which you assumed.

“Papa will call the other Captains to council. I’ll have to sit in the room while he recounts what I’ve told him to everyone else. I’ll have to hear everything they say about you, about me, about Kraglin. They’ll pick a date for a trial to decide whether or not you’re guilty, and if they decide you are, they’ll exile you.” You put your head against the wall and closed your eyes. Your throat was so tight you could barely breathe, let alone continue.

“What if they don’t find me guilty?” he asked.

You idiot, you thought. Of course they’d find him guilty. Captain Charlie would be heartbroken, but not as much as you. You’d have to watch your father banish your soulmate, and there was nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t go with him, no matter what the Stars said. You were next in line to lead the Alliance. You hadn’t followed Yondu to the Elector, so why would you follow him into exile?

Because you loved him. Because he meant more to you than most things. Because seeing him safe and happy made you happy. Because thinking about him dying alone in the galaxy somewhere, unable to join you in the afterlife, stuck in limbo for eternity not only broke your heart, but broke a part of your soul. Or all of it. It was hard to feel too much all at once.

“They gonna fin’ me guilty, ain’t they?” he asked.

“You broke our code, Yondu,” you said. “It doesn’t matter what you meant to do or why you did it. You sold people, transported actual living beings into an uncertain future they probably didn’t want.”

“How’s the council gonna know that? How they gonna know those kids didn’t wanna find their daddy?” he asked.

“Don’t be insolent,” you said. “You said yourself, Ego’s a jackass. What did Peter ever say when you told him?” you asked.

“I di’n’t tell him,” he said.

You stared at him. “So, what? He thinks you kidnapped him for your own gain?”

“You ain’t gonna say that to Stakar, are you?” he asked, his eyes widening.

You sighed. He was missing the point, probably intentionally. It hurt too much to think about the reality of the situation, but he had to. “I’m not gonna tell Papa. But you need to realize what’s going to happen to you. I called to warn you,” you said.

“That’s all?” he asked.

You stared at his desperate expression. He wanted so much, but you could only give him what you had. You didn’t like that feeling at all. “When they exile you, Yondu, I won’t be able to go with you. I won’t be able to speak to you. You won’t be recognized as a Ravager Captain anymore. You’ll lose your seat at the table. For good.”

“You...you’re just gonna leave me?” he asked.

“I won’t have a choice,” you said.

“You once tol’ me we all gotta choice. You said I made a choice to survive when I was a slave. Well now you gotta choice, too.”

“I can’t go.”

He stopped and stared. You looked away from the halo pad and tried to focus on what you needed to say, whatever little of it left there was.

“I’m sorry, Yondu. I can’t give up what I have,” you said.

“You...are all I have,” he whispered.

You shook your head, landing back on his eyes. “You have the Elector. She’s yours. You have Kraglin. He’ll stand by you, I know it. You’ll have the crew that stays. I’ll be nothing in comparison.”

“Don’t say that,” he said. “You ain’t never nothin’, Darlin’.”

“Yondu, please,” you pleaded. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”

“Come with me,” he said.

You let out another loud sob. Your throat hurt more than you could ever remember it hurting. Everything hurt, but especially your mark, your heart, and your head. You shook your head before whispering, “I love you.” Then you ended the comm.

#the arrow and the flame #yondu x reader #sfw

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octopodeez · 7 years

Text

Sexy A-Z: Peter Quill Edition

Nobody asked for this, but here it is, anyways.

WARNING: NSFW

A: Aliens. On a mission to fuck as many different types as he can. His only requirement is that they have to be relatively humanoid…though he has been known to stray from that, in the past…

B: Blowjobs. He lives for blowjobs. His life revolves around obtaining blowjobs. He loves blowjobs more than sex. He loves blowjobs more than life. Blowjobs blowjobs blowjobs. That being said, he does have a strict “no head from people with pointy teeth” rule.

C: Contraxia. Where he lost his virginity to one of the “love bots”. It was a birthday gift from The Ravagers.

D: Dancing. One of his favorite ways to get in someone’s pants (with an 88% success rate) is to turn on a slow song and seduce them via one of his infamous intimate slow dances.

E: Experimental. He’ll try just about anything once.

F: Fun. Peter isn’t one of those people who takes sex 100% seriously all the time. He’s okay with a little laughter when he can’t get his damn boots off, or an exchanged smile rather than “sex faces”. Though this only really happens when he’s with someone he genuinely cares about. Someone he is completely comfortable with enough to let his guard down a little bit.

G: Guardians. They’re his friends. They’re his family. But they’re also the biggest cock blocks in the galaxy.

H: Handjobs. One of the few sex things that he actually isn’t really a fan of. For some reason he just gets so bored. It might have something to do with a rather spikey alien accidentally jabbing him in the wrong place a long time ago…

I: Impatient. He’s not pushy. If someone isn’t down to fuck then that’s cool. He’ll back off. But if someone is down, then he does the best he can with the foreplay stuff but…he’d rather get to the sex part. Or the blowjob part.

J: Jacket. Hates when random hookups wear his clothes. Loves when bae wears his clothes. Especially his jacket, since it’s so important to him. There’s a mixed element of “aww look at you all warm in my jacket, I am such a good boyfriend who can provide for bae” + “damn you look good in my clothes but here, you’d look even better with them on the floor”.

K: Kama Sutra. Something he stole from a planet that considered it an ancient relic because he’s an outlaw, duh. He has no idea how they got their hands on it, but it’s one of the most useful things in the galaxy, to him. Every alien race is different when it comes to pleasure points, so he has a whole library in his head of different positions to try so he can hit the right spots on anyone.

L: Length. Like…he wasn’t lying when he said if it had a hand it probably could’ve easily landed his ship.

M: Milano. Literally his favorite place ever to have sex. It’s literally a portable home full of so many different things to have sex on like tables, pilot’s chairs in the cockpit lmao, stairs, etc.

N: Naked. He’s super comfortable and proud of his body, so definitely a lights-on, look-at-me-naked kind of guy.

O: Oral. Is so good at oral, and the reason he is so good at oral is because he knows in order to receive it, you’ve also gotta be down to give it.

P: Pansexual. Peter Quill is pansexual, don’t fight me on this.

Q: Quickie. He’s living with four other people. A lot of times it’s the only way. But the thrill of potentially getting caught isn’t the worst thing in the world.

R: Rescue Fantasy. The only thing better than saving the galaxy, would be saving the galaxy + some super attractive person who shows their gratitude via wild sex and (the best part) leaves in the morning without being asked.

S: Star-Lord. I think it goes without saying that one of his biggest kinks is hearing his partner straight up scream his name. Because he is Star-Lord. Legendary as both a galaxy saver and orgasm giver.

T: Threesomes. He’s a little picky about this one. He’s only down if he’s the one who is the “center of attention”. Nothing is sexier to Quill than two people trying to outdo one another on who’s better at pleasuring him.

U: Underwear. People have a bad habit of leaving their undergarments behind. I’m not saying he asks them to leave it. But I am saying that he doesn’t throw it out when it happens, and he has a secret drawer of all his trophies that Rocket finds one day and gives him endless shit about.

V: Vibrators. Sex toys, in general, are something Peter likes. If he ever gets an Earth bae, their mind will be fucking blown by some of the interplanetary stuff he owns.

W: Wild. He’s not really one to go after the “cute, innocent” type. He likes someone a little dangerous, with fire in their eyes, because when it’s just a one night stand, he likes things to be sort of…you know…wild. That being said, on the rare occasions that he actually does find a romantic partner who he wants to stick around, things are much different, but until then, Peter Quill likes freaky alien sex.

X: Xandar. His favorite place to get laid. While it’s fun to get with someone who’s kinky af, he also loves the “innocent/sheltered rich kid who is corrupted by a legendary space outlaw” thing.

Y: Yondu. As a father, it was his duty to give Peter “the talk”…and it was the most awkward, uninformative talk ever. All it did was confuse and lowkey scare him. But like equally lowkey, that was sort of the point because no boy of his is going to running off having wild, meaningless hookups until he is of age, dammit.

Z: Zen-Whoberi. Gamora is the last of the Zen-Whoberi people. Peter is dying to make a comment like “oh hey I’ll help you repopulate, if you’d like…” But he refrains. Because while he may be an a-hole, he’s not 100% a dick and knows when things are in bad taste.

#peter quill #star-lord #guardians of the galaxy #chris pratt #guardians of the galaxy vol 2 #guardians of the galaxy 2 #gotg #gotg2 #marvel #headcanon #preference #preferences #starlord #quill #peter quill imagine #peter quill headcanon #star-lord imagine #star-lord headcanon #peter imagine

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peregrineroad · 7 years

Text

Unquiet Dead

Part three of three

(follows on from the AO3 version of parts one and two)

Posting here first because i’m still too close to writing it to really edit for pacing and content, but having finished it I do want to post it somewhere.

Can you hear us singing? We’re singing down your name

There’s a place for you among us

where all callings are the same...

“Listen,” Yondu said, grabbing Meredith’s arm. The thin wail of Ego’s human sculpt sailed like a siren underneath his rumbling planetary voice, and Meredith growled. She didn’t want to have to listen to his bullshit ever again.

“Not to him,” Yondu said.

She stared at him, seeing the long shadow of a terrible guilt fall in his eyes. Some inkling of his meaning darted through her mind, and, as if her ears were sensitised by that instinct, she began to hear whispers threading through Ego’s clamour.

Let us out

I want to go home

Mama...!

“They’re trapped,” she whispered, horrified. Then she shook free of Yondu’s grasp and seized his arm in turn. “We have to help them!”

Where am I?

Father, please...

He looked at her grimly. “How d’you plan on that?” he asked, but she could hear in his voice that he was on-board, whether he wanted to be or not.

“I don’t...we could try...calling out to them.”

She walked slowly towards the console. “Does it have a transmission frequency?”

He caught up with her and hit a few keys. “Go ahead.”

“Children?” she asked falteringly. “Can...can you hear me?”

River Lily?

Father’s River Lily?

She shuddered. “No. My name is Meredith Quill. I’m here to help you.”

Meredith.

Ego’s voice was stronger and more focused now. You came back.

“Not for you, asshole,” she said.

This is me. She could see his face in her mind for the first time in forever. Young. Kind. She’d thought he was good. All of this is me.

“No. The children?”

They belong to me.

Yondu’s breath hissed between his teeth.

Everything here does, River Lily. This, after all, is also a world of my creation.

Every word sent eddies of alien feeling through her. Pride. Possession. Was he pushing his thoughts into her head? She felt sick.

“Fucking Celestials,” Yondu said. “Can’t even die right.”

Ah, Yondu. I thought I heard you there. I’m glad you could join us, but please. This is between me and Meredith.

“That right, Quill?” Yondu asked her. “You mind me butting in?”

“Knock yourself right out,” she said. “I got nothing to say to him. I never knew him.”

And yet you’ve come to me, to be with me in death. Yondu and I died together, so perhaps he was drawn into my afterlife by coincidence, but you were far away...

The foreign influence she could feel tugging on in her brain was pushing out splintered images now: a white manikin of herself; a rippling nothing where the face should be; her hands outstretched to Ego; the beginnings of a dance between them.

“Maybe I just wanted to kick your ass,” she said.

He laughed. Meredith.

Yondu smacked his hand down on the console and the transmission ended.

“Don’t think that’s gonna work with him in the way,” he said. “Gotta think of somethin’ else.”

“This ship have guns?” she asked, nails biting into her palms.

He grunted. “’Course. But maybe not ones that’d function under, uh, these circumstances. Technic’ly this ship probably ain’t even existant.”

“You’re a lot of help,” she said. He gave her a flat look.

“You got any artillery yourself, Quill?” he asked.

She thought about it. All her life, she’d been more inclined to use words as weapons than actual violence. She was a good shot, but she hadn’t ever used a gun on another living being. The scraps she’d been in had mainly been resolved with a single well-placed boot to the instep or crotch. She’d bitten a boy when she was twelve. Most of all, her main defence had always been not caring what other people thought of her.

“I think I have what I need,” she said. He shrugged.

“Got an idea what might get me to the kids,” he said. “You think you can keep Ego busy?”

She raised her chin. “He owes me twenty-five years,” she said. “Is that enough time?”

“...Just might be,” he said.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ship’s controls wouldn’t allow them to do anything but keep racing inwards. As it happened, further in was exactly where Yondu intended to go. The constant swirl of history which was catching at the back of his mind got stronger and stronger the closer to the centre of light they got.

At first he’d thought the memories were Ego’s projections: a deliberate assault on their minds meant to tear ‘em open for consumption. Now he wasn’t so sure. The ugliness of Ego’s intrusions didn’t seem to match the way the bastard pictured himself. Maybe it was just a quality of this shared halfway afterlife. Maybe that meant he and Mama Quill could meddle in it too.

Wasn’t likely to be fun, but that didn’t matter. He knew what he deserved.

He thought outwards with one of the memories he least wanted to touch, pushing it until the shame of it was numb and heavy in his chest, and he could hear that first child’s voice again. A little Sytorian boy who cried with the sound of a storm in a water pipe. He remembered hating hearing it, as he always did whenever any of the children made a fuss. Not out of compassion, not really, but because to some tiny part of him it still meant the Masters were coming to restore silence.

Nonetheless, he’d been at his most patient with that first child, squatting down and trying to get the boy to look at him.

“Here, kid,” he’d said. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you. We’re gonna take you to your daddy, see? He’s gonna take real good care of you.”

“I don’t want my father,” the boy wails. “I want my mother. Please, Mister Alien, take me back to my mother.”

Yondu sits back on his heels. “I wouldn’t be so hasty if I was you, boy. Your father, he’s somethin’ special. Can give you anything you want – food, toys, places to run around in.”

“I don’t want toys, I want-”

“Your Momma. I know.” He sighs and scratches at one ear. “You’re makin’ this difficult for yourself, but it don’t have to be. Your daddy’s gonna care for you better ‘n anyone else can. You’re special too, see? Same way he is. He’s gonna teach you about what’cha are. ‘Sides a momma’s boy, ‘coz that’s obvious.”

The boy at least stops crying and starts glaring. Yondu snorts. He doesn’t have the first fuckin’ clue what to do with kids, at least kids who come from the kind of softness this one has clearly been swaddled in, but the squashy offended face is almost kinda endearing. Irritating at the same time, but hell.

“You’ll be fine, boy,” he says. “Ravager’s bond. What’s your name, anyhow?”

The glare doesn’t waver, but the kid replies after a moment’s hesitation. “Dacktu. Son of Sithan.”

“Well, Dacktu, son of Sithan,” he says, replicating the emphasis with a twist of his mouth. “I’m the Captain here. This ain’t gonna be a long trip. You’re gonna stick by me, ‘cos my boys ain’t real used to hosting guests-”

-never tasted terran before –

He blinked. He’d been about to rise, but instead he stayed down, staring into the boy’s angry face.

That was it.

“You really in there, boy? Dacktu?” he asked, softly. The boy looked at him for a moment in silence.

“I want my mother,” he said again, at last. His voice sounded very different this time. Thin and dry, like all the tears had burned out of it long ago.

Yondu shut his eyes. “That’ll be right,” he said.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you remember when we first met?” Meredith asked Ego. “I was just a girl, you were just a predatory space marauder...those were simpler times, weren’t they?”

He laughed at her. He said -

[She’s sitting in an eternal green plain, watching for movement. Flowerheads spin like windmills over the gently waving grass. There’s a pattern taking shape out there, and it’s going to be beautiful.

A little distance away, Peter is calling. He says he’s found something and he won’t tell her what it is. He says she needs to come and look for herself.

When she tries to stand up, the world spins too. She can feel its progress through space, and her tiny pinned presence upon it, revolving into infinity.

Peter’s voice deepens and changes until it’s Ego calling for her instead. “Come on! Come and see!”

If she doesn’t go to him, she knows, she’ll stay this small and helpless forever.]

Meredith clenched her teeth.

“Why are you calling for me? Didn’t you decide my part in your something greater was over? Are you saying you made a mistake?”

He laughed at her. He said -

[She’s standing by a river. There are lilies in the water, sweeping rapidly downstream. She tries to reach into the river and pull them out, filled with an alien desperation to salvage something from their beauty, but the instant she has a flower in her hand it flashes into flame. Soon her fingers are blistered thickly and her hands are shaking. The lilies in the water rot in front of her.

She turns away. It would be better to carve herself flowers out of stone, she hears herself think. That way they’d be real.]

It seemed so real. At least as real as a world in which her ghost was standing on a blue man’s imaginary spaceship, fighting with a vision.

Talking back was hard. Not losing herself was her only chance. She forced the words out and followed them forwards.

“Your expansion failed, didn’t it? My Peter and his friends stopped you.”

Ego said -

[He’s a man in this vision. Still young; still guileless. He’s looking at her with tears in his eyes. They’re on his planet – himself, she supposes – as it burns. The heat of it pushes at her, competes with the heat of fury in her chest. After only seconds, the ground falls out beneath them and they both tumble after it. They go crashing though a darkness which promises to be endless....

But then the light rekindles. It’s fainter. It seems distant even as it’s blazing through them. But it’s undeniably his. It bears her up, too.

She sees herself, then, as he is seeing her. Still young herself, and bright with a delicate prettiness, like a crystal figurine filled with moonshine. Her expression is uncertain. Her hair is long.

He says, “If I had realised there would be a world beyond, one in which we would both be immortal...everything would have been different.”]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How’s he keepin’ you here?” Yondu asked. Dacktu shook his head.

“There’s nowhere else to go,” he said. “Beyond father there is nothing.”

Yondu frowned. “How’d you know? You ever try to leave? See your Momma again?”

The boy raised his chin until he was staring Yondu full in the face. Something flared behind his eyes, a brightness much less powerful than Ego’s radiance, but focused so squarely on Yondu that he had to blink and look away.

“I don’t remember her anymore,” the boy said. “Only this. Only you, taking me away. Only my father killing us.”

‘Us’, he said. Yondu had just an instant to wonder why.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Nothing’s different,” Meredith said. “You’re still alone.”

He was silent so long she thought perhaps he’d retreated. Then the ship shuddered violently, and the hull groaned with an almost human sound of dismay. Where the light they were flying into had been a sphere like the sun, stretching across the viewport, now it was twisting and unfolding into a giant. A great, gleaming hand was reaching out for them.

The ground lurched, and she stumbled sideways into a wall. A panel knocked loose. It bounced off the floor with a clang.

Which surely wasn’t right, was it? The ship shouldn’t be so fragile. She turned to look at the damage and saw a sheath of paper spilling out of the hole. Scattered across the pages were a cohort of vividly coloured figures, as bright and essential as the shape Ego was choosing now. The ship jerked again, but she kept her balance, dropping to her knees instead to gather the papers to her chest.

They were Peter’s old crayon drawings.

Mom, as tall as the trees and the house he’d drawn her beside. Granpa, holding the hand of another Momey, this one with bright orange hair and two green dots for eyes. Barney dog, the old mutt who sat all day outside their local shop and was greeted ecstatically by a six year old Peter every time they saw each other. Aants and Uncles and the postman. Each of them took up most of the page they were on unless Peter had drawn them holding hands with the other figures, or standing under particularly large suns. Occasionally there were red depictions of the artist interwoven with the others, most often beside Moms or teecher.

There was just one picture labelled Daddy. He stood in a field of red flowers. When Peter was small, before her cancer, she hadn’t told him that his daddy was from the stars. She’d just said he came from far away, and he’d had to go back there, but that he loved them both very much, and one day...he’d return. She stared down at the picture, a laugh boiling in her throat.

“Fuck,” she said.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The field of bones was vast. It crossed the horizon on every side. Low over the ground hung a thin, rust-coloured smog, corrosive and stinking and hot on his skin. When Yondu shifted his weight, the bones under his feet crunched, and he heard a trickle of something thickly liquid escaping.

There were thousands – tens of thousands – of children standing in the field. They were all looking at him. At a certain distance, all you could see were their eyes, blank and blue and glowing out of the haze.

“Shit,” Yondu said. Dacktu turned to stare at him too, irises bleached out by blue.

“You brought me to father,” he said. “Father keeps us here.”

Even after all his years of suppressing delinquent emotion, Yondu couldn’t prevent himself from shivering. The eyes were accusing. It smelled of the pens.

Slowly, the children started to move. The ones closest to him rearranged until they were a wall of familiar faces. He remembered each of them. The things he’d said; reassurances he’d half committed to; tears he’d rolled his eyes over. He remembered leaving them with Ego. Telling himself it wasn’t anywhere close to the worst fate they could have had. Ignoring the doubt which had needed the telling.

“You brought me here.”

“You brought me.”

“You left me here.”

“You promised.”

They advanced on him steadily. He stood frozen, feeling the smog pulse in his lungs.

“Please let us go.”

“Let go!”

They reached him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The blazing fist closed on the ship. Meredith closed her eyes.

“You know, I told him all these stories about you when he was small,” she said. “As he got bigger he didn’t like them so much. He was angry with you. Because you left me.”

Even behind sealed lids, her eyes burned.

Once there was a little duckling.

“I told him you had reasons, and when he was older he’d understand. That you’d come back, and that was what mattered.”

He was lonely because he was different. But he wasn’t alone. Not ever.

“I guess I made it pretty easy for you. I was so ready for the stars to love me the way I loved them, and there you were. A man who’d been looking out into those stars for so long he mistook them for himself. All the good things I believed about you...after a while I guess I was just making them up for Peter’s sake.”

He loved his mother, and his grandfather, and even the remorseful fox which had hunted his kind once, though no longer.

And he loved the stars.

“Meredith,” he said, voice no longer reverberating with power or echoing in her head. She looked up and there he was, standing on the bridge, young and human and smiling at her sweetly. “Meredith, I know from a mortal perspective my actions must seem monstrous. But you’re no longer so limited. Please, try to think about this from my point of view.”

And one day he found other loves waiting. And the strength of them together helped him fly.

She looked down at the picture Peter had drawn of a hypothetical father in a big red field.

His mother was very proud. And she knew that she could fly too. After all, she had her own loves under her wings.

“You had so long to figure out what was important and you never did. The only worthwhile things you were ever involved in makin’ were those babies, and you couldn’t even see them at all.” She shook her head. “You want to talk about limited? The face you’re wearing now... I made that up.”

She flew.

On the very edge of the universe, the stars began to go out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world was full of grasping hands. They were icy to the touch. All at once, layered on top of each other, came a hundred visions of Ego’s face becoming distant and disappointed; a hundred layers of fluttering eagerness churning to fear as he turned away; a hundred flares of light. Then the fall of darkness. A hundred. Then another hundred. Another.

“Stop,” he rasped.

“Let us go!”

The bones were digging into him, piercing his chest, his belly, his spine. He tried to struggle and could barely manage the twitching of his hands.

The fog had grown thicker until it was almost a second night, hanging just over their heads. He looked at their lost, panicking faces, and felt desperate survival instinct scream in his throat. He forced himself to swallow.

He said, “Who did I steal you from?”

Something changed in the faces. One of them said, “My family.”

“My mother,” said Dacktu.

“My brothers.”

“My grandma.”

“My order.”

“No-one,” said one. “I had no-one. You promised me a someone and you lied!”

“He stole you from yourself, Mida,” said one of the girls closest to him. “He took your future.”

“I had a future!”

A babble of voices.

“Let us go!”

“I don’t even remember my name anymore.”

He forced his eyes open again and looked for the source of that voice. He wouldn’t have remembered either before this began.

“It’s Kaylan,” he said. “That’s your name, girl. I’m sorry.”

The sky was bright as amethysts. In it, a huge golden figure looked down at the speck in its fist.

At the very edge of visible space, the stars were going out.

The children looked up.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Ego shouted.

“I’m Meredith Quill,” she said. “And I’m telling my deadbeat ex to get gone.”

The face she had known broke apart like dry sand, letting the glowing giant through. He drew back his fist –

And then froze, as something yellow-white erupted out of his chest. What looked like a twisted, sharp rib burst through his thigh. Fleshless fingers dug their way out of the place where his eyes should have been. He staggered sideways. The chorus of children’s voices rose to a howl –cries for freedom; wordless fury; names. Ego’s form convulsed as the children rose up around him, dragging their lost bones out of the air and stabbing them into their father as he screamed. Meredith had to shut her eyes, shuddering despite her hatred.

“Meredith!” he cried, but his voice was thin under the roar of his children’s, and she had nothing to say to him now anyway.

“LET US GO!”

Darkness fell.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yondu lay curled on his side, watching bits of bone fade out of the field. Most of the children had gone from it too, though his head still rang with their voices. The only light remaining was coming from the Eclector as it gently streamed on overhead.

It was almost something like peace. The same peace which had been on him as he died; after the cold had locked into him and the fading of his thoughts had quieted his agony. Peter’s face; Peter’s cheek against his palm. Peter; alive. Peace.

But it wasn’t over yet. He knew that right down in his own bones. Most of the children were gone, but there were still a few, scattered across the field. Some of them were crying.

He wondered where Meredith Quill was. Almost certainly she’d be better at this. These kids deserved better than just Yondu Udonta and the dark.

But that was what they had.

He got to his feet and went to the first child. They weren’t one of his, though he’d failed them nonetheless. He crouched in front of them.

“I don’t want to fight,” they said. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to. I just want to go.”

“So, you don’t gotta fight,” he said. He wasn’t sure it was even true. It had never been true before. He could see that it ought to be. Looking at the tears dribbling off their chin. Feeling that old fear.

They shuddered and looked up at him. “’’m scared.”

“I can see that,” he said. Gingerly, he reached out and touched their face, brushing away the dampness on their cheeks. Just seemed to make them cry more, but he understood dimly that that might be a necessity.

At his hip, the arrow glowed red. The child looked down at it. He could see fascination finally start to displace some of the fear. Typical fuckin’ kid. Ghost kid. Whatever.

He whistled the arrow out for them with a quick trill, and had it turn a loop the way Peter had liked watching, once. And again. And again; the designs becoming more complex as he drew them. Spirals. Ships. Cities.

The last tear dripped away from the child’s chin.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meredith had tried to reach into the crowd of children, tried to help somehow, but she’d found nothing solid to touch. Just the feeling of gauze and air between her fingers. Just the feeling of loss and the fresh blood of hope in her chest. Ego was barely glowing at all anymore, and he was finally silent, struggling with something she couldn’t see. The once glittering sky had lost all its grandeur. There were no planets. No moons. No stars. Just Yondu’s ship and the emptiness.

She thought maybe she’d done that, somehow.

There was a soft thud as Ego fell forward onto his knees. He was still looking at her. Skeletal remains slowly burned away from him in bursts of feeble light. He opened his mouth to make some plea, some demand, but then stopped.

Very softly, she told him, “They’re gone. You’re alone.”

His skin turned the white-grey of ashes. She expected him to flake apart and blow away, spent, but instead he remained on his knees in front of her, and stared and stared until she heard footsteps from behind.

“Ego,” Yondu said at last. “What the hell you doing on my ship?”

His arrow was a long cherry stripe against the dark. When it returned to his holster, there was no more light left, only silence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Is it over?” Meredith asked eventually.

“Kids are gone,” Yondu said. He walked to the control panel and flicked a few buttons and switches. The emergency lamps came on. Besides the two of them, the bridge was empty.

“That sorry bastard,” she said. He just nodded. “There were...so many.”

Yondu cleared his throat. “Had a long time to produce ‘em.”

“Then they were stuck here all that time.” She uncrossed her arms and curled her fists.

“Not sure it works like that,” he said, straightening. Everything ached. “You feel like you been lost out here for twenty years?”

“Can’t tell,” she said, then hesitated. “No, you’re right. I can’t tell.”

“Good. ’Coz I’m feelin’ a thousand.”

“Well, maybe that’s just what you deserve,” she said, without hostility. He shrugged.

“Could be.” He wasn’t gonna get the rites either way. Not like he had anywhere else to be.

“Do you think there’s any way back?” she asked, as if she’d seen the thought on his face. She looked like she planned to claw her way back to her son’s side whether the afterlife had approved a route or not. Yondu snickered. Couldn’t say he disagreed with the feeling, much as he knew it wasn’t possible.

Hell, he was so damn tired.

“Maybe,” he actually did say. For her, maybe.

“I used to be able to see him when he sang our music,” she said. Her tone was almost confessional. “But this is deeper in...wherever we are. Ego’s ghost emporium. And his walkman’s gone.”

“He ain’t forgetting ‘coz of that.”

“No, but...” She pulled a face. “It was important. Tangible. And...he was the one who destroyed it. You know?”

“’f it comes to it...” he gestured out into the beyond. “Assumin’ it’s over...you got anywhere else to go?”

“Oh...heaven, I suppose,” she said. “What about you?”

Yondu just snorted. He turned to look out the empty viewport, taking in all the nothing he had to look forward to.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the very centre of the nothing; the deadest of dead centres, a tiny spark breathed. It was silent. It had no stars to see, and never would.

____________________________________________________________

And then the colours bloomed.

Yondu stepped back again, eyes wide.

It was impossible. Stakar would never; he’d made that damn clear. Yondu had accepted it, he had; he had known he’d never be forgiven. He’d damn well died and that hadn’t been enough for the universe, there’d been all this other Celestial bullshit, he knew what he deserved.

Damn it.

Damn it...

That sentimental bastard.

The fireworks spread across the length of the dark and hung there like navigation points. The gravity of Yondu’s heart reversed itself without his permission, yearning its way of the box he'd kept it in for years.

No. It wasn’t possible. It was a trick, or a joke, or a dream.

He closed his eyes.

They’d never thawed. Now the ice was seeping out of them. It went sloughing down his face in thick messy trails, catching in his lashes. Rubbing at the tears hurt. He had to wait the melt out, until it was dripping free and warm from his chin.

“It’s beautiful,” Meredith said softly. She glittered when he looked at her with wet eyes. Colours danced across her face. Her expression of wonder was much like her son’s.

Fine. Fine. He didn’t deserve it, but she was standing there seeing it too, the mother of the last child he’d done wrong by. Peter’s beloved Mother; the one Yondu’s son sang to.

And suddenly he was sure she could go back too. Keep watching her boy like she ought to have been able to do freely all this time. He could help save Peter his mother as some kinda payment for losing him two damn inadequate fathers in one day; for forcing him to miss her funeral – for everything.

Let Ego be really, truly alone in himself for good.

“Boy barely used to talk about you,” Yondu said. The words came rushing out like they were thawing too. “Only time he’d bring you up was when he was talkin’ about that music of yours. Your taste was the best, he said. I remember when we first got the translator in him an’ he told me what his walkman thing was. He said it was yours and you was dead and it was the most important thing still in the universe. I didn’t get it then, but he was so hung up on you I wondered sometimes what you was like. Like him, I figured. Anyway.” He coughed. “Got the boy some new earth music. Think you’ll like some of the shit on there. Thought so when I got it. Expect the boy’ll think so too, when he listens. ‘S how he talks to you. Don’t think that’s likely to change.”

She looked at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. The fireworks shone across her face. All the colours. He tried to smile, and found it surprisingly easy.

“Called a Zune. Seller said it’s got 300 songs on it.”

“300 songs?!” said Meredith Quill.

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Both of them heard the music.

All quiet at the ending from which the darkness came.

#Yondu Udonta #meredith quill #gotgvol2

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