starlordindie

[starlordindie]

@unripe-yaro;

To any passerby, it might be an odd sight to come across a man in a red lens helmet simply standing out in the middle of a grassy field — but for that man, it was just another day in his ridiculous and adventure-filled life. At the moment, there wasn’t much adventure to be had, just a small manhunt for a piece that fell off one of his rocket thrusters.

Peter swept the low grass and taller hedges that surrounded the crash site; to one side sat the edge of a small cluster of trees, to the other sat the field that stretched and stretched until it reached the city. If the piece was here, it would show up on his visor — if not, he’d have to get a hold of that pretty-boy NOVA wannabe space cop. Ugh. 

And just his luck, he couldn’t find a damn thing. Peter wandered over to the exact landing point, did a complete fixed circle and another sweep from his visor before he dropped his head back and sighed up towards the sky. He really didn’t want to deal with the lanterns, but there wasn’t much of another option.

[starlordindie]

@doctorwithanipod;

Peter stood at one end of the alleyway that separated the Bar With No Name and the apartment building next door with his work keys in one hand and a half empty cup of coffee he picked up from a little vendor a few blocks down. Usually he was by the staff door by then, but a too curious person seemed to have wedged themselves into the half window that led to the bar’s bathroom.

As he drew closer, he could make out a woman’s voice as she struggled to get in and had to chuckle quietly to himself. He watched for a second before figuring he had to do something, otherwise, it could end badly for her.

Peter strode up closer, brow already lifted in humor at the situation. He stole a sip of coffee before speaking, “you, uh, ya need a little help there?”

[starlordindie]

@fivefootlivewire​;​

Despite its affinity to cater to every villain in town - and then some - The Bar With No Name’s visitors were surprisingly civil. They had their own little code they had to follow once they stepped foot into the place, which made sense considering, but Peter couldn’t believe that they’d be the most well behaved bar patrons he’d ever come across - himself included. It was honestly kind of a relief; the ease of everyone’s manner made the shift bearable.

Chit chat also made the shift bearable. He’d learned a lot just from conversing with the regulars that showed up once, twice, three times a week. There were some there every night. Most of their insane stories involved some sort of masked hero - often times defeating the self-proclaimed villain in combat. Sad, but funny. 

Regulars came and went, all of them with something equally cracked to share, stories more ridiculous than the last. Someone stuck out though, someone who looked like she didn’t belong. Now, there had been many a casually dressed woman, as opposed to those who liked to parade around in spandex, who liked to drink amongst the weirdos - but they had that look in their eye, every single one. Those women scared him.

This one, the short blonde with the skewed glasses who looked a little lost amongst the sea of evil doers, made Peter smile. Once she finally made it to the bar, he sought her gaze and leaned both elbows against the countertop.

“Let me guess. . . first time?”

[starlordindie]

hottestlanternkyle​:

“Hey, man. You alive? Hellooooo…” A masked man dressed in black, white, and green was standing over the body in the grass, the crashed ship behind him. It had still been burning when he flew in, but the fire was put out by now. Of course of all the Green Lanterns in the solar system, he had to be the closest to the ship that crash-landed. It couldn’t be John, or freaking Guy Gardner. Noooo, it had to be him. When he had things to do and deadlines to meet!

He crouched down after a moment, his bare fingertips pressing against the man’s neck. Okay, so the body had a pulse. For now. “Hey! Space cowboy, wake up!” Kyle Rayner wasn’t known for being tactful, and he clapped his hands together a few times to try and rouse the man laid out on the grass. He moved to stand after that, brushing grass from his palms. “Well, you look human. Not that that means anything.” The last part was said under his breath as he took one last walk around the body. 

“John, it’s me. Found a survivor. The ship is totaled. Want me to bring both in?” Kyle definitely was going to take the injured man to get help, that was without question. But the ship would be a pain in the ass to try and transport, especially since it was in pieces and smoldering. He held his fist up near his chin as he talked, clearly communicating with someone through the glowing green ring on his finger.

Flashes of blue and green color slipped into the fabric of darkness that overtook Peter’s consciousness, but it was the smell that roused him first; the mixture of fresh air, burnt rubble and. . . paint, he was sure, tickled his nose. He could make out movement as he slowly came to, the colors more vibrant as his eyes started to open, slowly and blindly. The voice cleared up before his vision did; a male, he was speaking to someone else, but he was speaking English.

Even though his head felt like it was going to explode, Peter could tell that this wasn’t some translation that the chip implant came up with. Where the hell was he? A groan creaked out when he tried to lift his head; his stirring was small, but noticeable. He took note of the blatantly green attire, eventually recognizing the group from the blurry logo on the man’s chest. Peter blinked, slowly, before opening to a clearer view of the sky and smoke that billowed up from the cooled wreckage. He grimaced.

“. .the fuck. .?”

[starlordindie]

[starlordindie]

Pew-pew.

[starlordindie]

floxsmagicalgoods​:

Scavenger Hunt

It had been awhile since Flox had found herself in the section of the Milky Way that included Terra, or Earth as she’d eventually learned they called it on the planet itself. Tivan hadn’t had his eye on anything that way in a long while and she’d had no reason to go again. She’d found it fascinating on her first and only other visit there, at least after she’d adjusted her appearance to compensate with the very different fashions than she’d been led to believe were in place. That was Quill’s doing. Flox hadn’t realized how quickly things in human society shifted around, but that was something she’d picked up on fast. They didn’t live long. Of course they changed themselves frequently. Lesson learned. 

The only thing that drew her back to the planet again was a rumor that a spacecraft had crashed there. Given that humans were barely a spacefaring race, that meant it had ended up there from somewhere else. The possibility was enough to get her to investigate. A crash meant there might be something good left over, and Flox always had her eye out for something worth selling later. She wasn’t exactly in the market of ‘spaceship parts’ usually, but who was she to pass up a good deal if there was one to be had? 

She’d navigated the Kitsune to Earth with all the cloaking technology engaged. It let her slip past satellites and radars, as far a she was aware, and with a bit of investigation had eventually found the crash site. Her search for scrap or parts to offload turned into something else entirely once she figured out who had piloted the ship down to Terra. There was only one person who’d leave a cassette tape from Deep Purple in the wreckage of a ship. 

Peter Quill. 

As soon as she’d realized it, the only thing to do was throw her head back and laugh. It had been awhile since she’d sent him any kind of communication or received one in kind, but she tended to leave things like that up to the universe and chance. Their paths crossed when they crossed, and she never avoided or passed up a chance for that to happen. Of course she wouldn’t say no to one as obvious as this. 

It took asking around and navigating her way through the social niceties of being temporarily human, but Flox did eventually get herself on the right path. Many humans looked very similar to one another, but they didn’t seem to think so. She found a few who remembered someone that fit Quill’s description, and Flox had always liked a good puzzle. This one got solved, eventually, when she found herself in a bar. Those were universal. Quill was a the other end of it and she’d been watching him for a couple of minutes before she finally raised one hand to get his attention. By the time he turned his head, she was already grinning. 

@starlordindie

Earth jail was cozier than most places he’d spent the night in, but that didn’t make Peter feel any more comfortable. Cops were cops no matter what galaxy you broke the law in. They thought he was nothing more than a drunk, some homeless guy with ramblings about space; probably hallucinating, he’d heard one of them say. Peter would play along dutifully if it made the process any easier and with luck, it did. He found himself back on the streets with a warning - which sounded vaguely like a threat - and no ride to get off Earth. He was stranded, poor, and alone.

Until Brand found him - while he appreciated the studio apartment and the plug with the Bar With No Name, he wished he wasn’t living under her ever present thumb. It was suffocating. There was relief during his shifts, though, a nice break from the disapproving stare he felt through the camera lens. Thankfully Peter had some bar tending experience on some level - which was a lie he told Brand. There was no way he was going to clean toilets for a living and he knew a thing or two about alcohol, so, this should be a piece of cake.

Luckily there weren’t too many patrons during the learning curve (apparently a lot of their friends were spending a good chunk of credits behind bars); villains as they liked to call themselves, as if they were comic book characters come to life. Peter’s seen and done stranger than costumed men and women gossiping about other costumed men and women and occasionally the people who run the city. Or their mothers. Luckily for Peter, he got the hang of bartending. He became a favorite of the stragglers because he was a little generous with his pours; drunk people were happy people, as long as they kept their cool.

And if they didn’t, it still wouldn’t be his fault - that was a win-win in his book.

A regular sidled themselves into a stool and ordered their usual. It was an easy drink, one he’d made a hundred times over by now; hell, he could make it with his eyes closed. But of course, this time had to be different. Peter didn’t expect to break eye contact with the tip of the spout and loose sense of what he was just doing. He didn’t think he’d forget he was even holding the flarking bottle in the first place, but he also didn’t expect to see Flox looking like the cat that ate the canary.

And yet, here we are.

As if on cue, Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up took its turn on the speakers overhead. Peter sucked in his cheeks.

Suddenly the weight of the bottle returned to him when the regular finally opened their trap to mention the spillage which had already leaked over and dropped to his boots and the floor below. Peter cursed and slapped a rag onto the counter to mop up the mess; he pushed the overfilled glass to the regular with a ‘on the house’ and meandered away from the half cleaned spill to meet Flox at the other end of the bar. He was confused but glad to see someone familiar, relieved even. She could be a ride out - it would cost him, though, he was sure of it.

Peter did smile back. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he greeted as he leaned against the end of the countertop. “How’d you find me?”

[starlordindie]

[ OPEN STARTER ]

Blue eyes opened to the sight of an equally blue sky littered sparingly with wispy, white clouds that crawled on at a snail’s pace. The very close yet faded sound of a crackling fire pulled Peter’s hazy attention from the sky.

He doesn’t remember the crash — at least, not all at once. 

It was like a montage that raced through his mind, a collection of flame and stress that followed no particular linear thought. He doesn’t even remember the system he flew into, just the determination he felt as he tried to use himself as a distraction, a means of escape for his crew, his team, his family. 

The fire was small and at the cockpit, but it was only a matter of time before it encompassed the entirety of the ship. Peter looked back to the sky before he dropped his gaze to his legs — pinned, but he could move them. With what energy he had left, and whatever adrenaline remained, he urged the scrap piece off of him and army crawled through the claustrophobic cage that was now his ship. He pulled himself through an opening and tentatively got onto his feet, or tried to. One of them felt too messed up to put weight on it, so he leaned against one of the wings as he took in the field around him.

A field with grass so green Peter thought he could cry.

He stole a few steps before his leg gave out and he collapsed to the tall grass beneath him; it smelled familiar, welcoming, and he reveled in it before promptly passing out.

[starlordindie]

Scott Eastwood

[starlordindie]

Scott Eastwood as Jan II Wrath of Man (2021)