Peter Quill @cosmicjive - Tumblr Blog

divinely-paired‌:

“Tandy, this is crazy.” Tyrone was giving her a look that Tandy has come to know well. That expression of sheer disbelief he had been giving her since the day they had re-met.

“And?” Tandy raised an eyebrow, staring back at her partner impatiently. “Maybe crazy is what people need. Gotta get the message across somehow.”

“Have you thought this through?”

“Do I ever?”

“Girl, you’re going to be the death of us.”

“Hey, we’ve beat death like twice now. That means nothing. Now make with the portal already!”

“I’m coming back for you as soon as this starts going south.”

“Worrywart.”

“One of us has to be.” With a sigh, Tyrone pulled her in, darkness enveloping the two of them from where they were hiding in their church and dissipating over one of the NYC streets…a bit higher up then Tandy had been prepared for. As the darkforce’s grasp released her, she dropped into the roof of a bus, stumbling a bit on the landing. Somewhere in the distance - or perhaps in the back of her own mind - she could have sworn she heard Ty laughing.

No matter. She straightened herself up, grabbing the sign she had brought with her and holding it above her head.

She hadn’t exactly been expecting someone to end up her with her.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that part. Really. That was far from my best landing.” She shrugged, grinning slightly and standing a bit straighter. “You could say that though.”

Peter blinked, confused. She was just gonna...hang out here on top of the bus? Like nothing was happening? He’d have to spell it out better than that, maybe. “Yeah, y’see, y’can’t just hang out on top of buses. I’m not dissin’ your cause or nothin’ — hell, I ain’t from here and I ain’t sure what the problem is. But there’s a whole load of nice folks down there who need to go places, an’ they can’t now. How ‘bout you go join the rest of ‘em at the big protest, an’ let us all on our way, huh?” For him, he didn’t really mind skipping out on a medical appointment. Got a good excuse, and some brownie points for helping the people on the bus. If it was gonna stop him flying, though....he’d really rather get it over and done with and get back up there in the skies. “I ain’t borin’, I promise. I ain’t one’a those adults, I mean, techni’cly I’m from space so...I’m not bein’ a total dick here.”

#divinely-paired #fao: new brotherhood #//no problem #//i love that scene setting between them :D

thesouthernrogue‌:

“Y’know it’s possible tah do that without whinin’, right?” Anna sighed, hands on her hips in a stance her students and co-workers would know well. “Only technically?”

“I am not whinin’! This is my normal tone!” Peter gestured at his sidewalk chalk art. He was proud of it! It had started off looking a bit rough around the edges, but it was definitely a bird in a tree with sunshine! “Well it’s not gonna end up in a museum or nothin’, but I drew it!”

#thesouthernrogue

lastzenwhoberian‌:

“If I come get you, I won’t be gentle and you’ll complain about it all night. I’m asking you one last time, put these blankets back where they belong”

“What if I wanted you to manhandle me into bed, babe? Sounds hot.”

#lastzenwhoberian

Peter was getting mighty sick of this goddamn job. He’d signed up to fly planes, and he was pretty sure they were just trying to stall him at this point. He was fine! There was no need for him to go to an actual hospital to get the final aeromedical checkup when they had their own secret bullshit at SHIELD. No. Someone was testing him on exactly how much he hated hospitals. Assholes. Getting on the bus should have been good enough, right? He didn’t actually have to go inside. Just show that he would have done. It wasn’t as if this stupid thing was going anywhere any time soon. New York had a whole load of traffic, but this seemed out of the ordinary. He grabbed his phone - to change the song, but also to tell Gamora he was bored and did she want to get noodles. She’d tell him to keep his appointment, he knew that, but it didn’t matter. He really just wanted to get her attention so she’d call him. One of those flashy boxes came up on his screen from the news people. Saying something’d happened over at the Wakandan embassy. Well. Saving the day would be a totally good excuse to skip! As soon as he put his phone back in his pocket, there was a loud crash on the roof. Some people started screaming, and he pushed his way through the standing crowd in the aisle. Putting on his mask and opening the emergency window, Peter climbed out atop the bus to find - a small blonde chick with a sign? He stowed his mask, trying a different tactic. “Hey, y’really freaked some folks out there for a second, huh? What’s the cause? Y’ stickin’ it to the man?” @divinely-paired

#fao: new brotherhood #//hello fellow youths how do you do

mysteriomanifesto‌:

Quentin is initially tempted to playfully refute the others argument regarding the topic of destiny despite it being one he isn’t particularly enamoured by - the temptation to tease further is only kept at bay as previous experience with the two friends saw that this back-and-forth could happily go on for hours, the engineer slowly stirring the proverbial pot for Quill to grow increasingly excitable. “Hey.” The developer slowly leans in instead, a gentle nudge of his elbow placed against the side of the spaceman’s ribs with an earnest reply. “The world needs dumb-asses.”

Drifting thoughts teeter on the edge of particular memories, lingering on one specifically where Quentin had been preparing to leave home for college, a sweltering Californian summer stubbornly meandering towards the start of fall, foliage not quite altering in colour or succumbing to a crispness in the atmosphere. It had involved a handshake between the father and son within the doorway of his bedroom, soon evolving into an awkward embrace which was half-heartedly reciprocated on Quentin’s part - he didn’t understand the significance of the gesture at the time, the student confused considering he had plans to return a few months later— Idle fingertips run through the brunet’s hair, the motion effectively brushing aside the thoughts of home, more than happy to reside in the here and now.

“Seems a little unfair but something tells me if you build up a reputation as an outlaw, there wouldn’t be that many people willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Besides, we live in a world— uh, galaxy, where someone with so-called ‘status’ has more leverage than the little guy.” There’s a small snort of laughter with the mention of the movie’s synopsis, Beck’s mind trying to place Quill in the scenario with ludicrous outcomes bordering on hilarity. “I can appreciate your good deeds whether you see yourself as a hero or not but… who’s to say that you’re completely in control of your actions..?” Quentin lets the nefarious notion linger for a moment, a spark of mischief in his eyes before reverting back to referencing the aforementioned movie. “For all you know, you’ve got a chip at the back of your neck. Food for thought.”

Peter had really just been messing around, making that kind of comments about himself. He knew he wasn’t exactly genius material, ‘course, but there were different kinds of smarts. And he had battle smarts. Galaxy-saving ones. One of the things he’d noticed about Quentin - but also about Terrans in general - is that he was just real good at knowing what stuff to say when. Maybe that’s what you learned if you finished all of school as a kid. He smiled slightly, lacking a witty retort for once. “Thanks, man.” His preferred strategy for dealing with deep thoughts was simply not having any. No matter what his therapist had said about mindfulness and letting them flow through you or whatever. Wait. That last bit was Star Wars. Never mind. Peter preferred to drown them out with music and/or booze and sex, but apparently, that’s an unhealthy coping mechanism or something. He’d protested that he’s in a committed relationship where he’d only ever want to sleep with one person for the rest of forever — which is a big deal! — although none of that was ever good enough for SHIELD to let him just be a damn pilot already. He decided to keep that to himself - well, it was a secretive organisation, duh. Instead, he quirked an eyebrow. “So if you have status, you get places....unless you have outlaw status. Then you get real good at breaking outta places.” A cheeky grin on his face, he tries to keep his tone matter-of-fact. Peter pushes a tuft of hair out of the way at the back of his neck, pressing around with a couple of fingers until he finds what he’s looking for. “I do have a chip at the back of my neck.” He giggles, pointing out a small 30-ish-year-old scar. Whatever mark there’d been from the update was long-gone. Just went to show what was possible when you went to a guy who wasn't a Ravager with a needle and a bottle of whisky. “It ain’t controllin’ me. It’s my translator. ‘Member I said Tony Stark fixed it for me? They’re meant t’last you for life, but space pirates scrimp on everythin’ ‘cept booze. Imagine the sound an alarm makes when the battery’s goin’. But only you can hear it. That sucked.”

#mysteriomanifesto #tw: surgery #tw: scars