#girl I hope you had a terrible time bc i was havin a ball on that bitch

[coralreeferband]

The girl I had a weird antagonistic relationship with in college is getting married

Good luck to that guy

[allisquish]

stargazer chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

-

I just really enjoy trying to write Goldblum’s dialog, okay? He speaks so! Also more dancing around with bush with Yondu bc no one knows how to people. (There’s italics everywhere, I like italics)

-

Admittedly, there’s not much you actually know about implants. Some aliens seem to have them, with some races it’s more prevalent than others, and some just don’t. However, implants are a technology and if anyone trapped in this forsaken tower wants a piece of tech repaired, there’s only one person to ask.

Kameca.

You’re very happy with this news that the Xandarian girl has brought you; Kameca has agreed to meet with the Ravager and you. It’ll cost you, there’s always a steep price with this kind of thing, but it should be worth it. You don’t know what exactly Yondu’s implant is for; but judging by the implants you have seen in the past on Sakaar? It may be vital to survival.

“Whatchu talkin’ about, girl?” The Centaurian demands, reaching for the note in your hands. You let him take it, bouncing on the balls of your feet. There was going to be so much to plan. You’d have to be sneaky- can’t have others knowing what you both are up to.

“You think this person can fix mah fin?” Yondu asks, his eyes hard as he looks at you. There’s a vulnerability in them that he’s trying to mask, but you catch it. Huh. That’s… not what you expected from a space pirate. Then again, you didn’t really have much to go on. He certainly doesn’t act like a Captain Harlock or Han Solo.

Then again, maybe Yondu could give Solo a run for his money.

“Well, I hope so,” You reply, turning to the mess in your room. You need pen and paper, something to plan out this meeting to the finest detail. “She’s smart, and she’s got delicate fingers.” You start grabbing things off the floor, trying to put them away as you look.

“Look, girlie, I don’t need anyone tryin’ to mess wit’ it if they don’t know what they’re doin’.”

“Oh, no, believe me she does,” You pause, putting dresses back into the wardrobe, “Kameca’s race is tech-based. She never needs to see blueprints or anything. Sometimes all she needs is a good look or a touch and she can fix whatever you bring her.”

“Sounds too good to be true.” He grumbles, perching himself back on your bed.

“Yeeeeah,” You drag the sound out, sighing, “She tends to have pretty high prices.”

“Like what?”

“I mean, I haven’t had to deal with her directly,” You explain, putting the drawers back into the dresser, “But I went with Ruelyz to see her before. She had found a broken piece of tech from her homeworld, and Kameca had it fixed up in no time.”

“And wha’ did she want in return?”

“A pint of blood.” Yondu’s head snapped up, looking at you with wide eyes and furrowed brows. You know you must look just as disgusted as he is, “She, uh, Kameca said it made for good seasoning.” Before you can even blink, Yondu is across the room, grabbing hold of your wrist.

“I ain’t havin’ anyone like that anywhere near mah head, got that, girlie?” A powerful rage radiates from his whole being. You can see it and feel it; his muscles are bunched and tense, poised for fight or flight, yet the touch on your wrist is kept loose. Like he’s trying to hold back.

You hold both hands up, attempting to appease, “Okay, so we won’t go to her if you don’t want too. Do you know how to fix your… fin?”

He lets go, and steps back. Crossing his arms, Yondu smirks down at you. His crooked teeth actually glint in the light, “Why as a matter a fact, yes I do.”

You finally spy an old composition notebook on the floor. Snatching it and a pen, you hand both to Yondu. “Make a list, or whatever, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Which he does, fairly quickly, and then hands to you.

“…Dude, I can’t read this.” You look up at him, a frown tugging your lips down. Whatever they had done to you when you first arrived on Sakaar that allows you to understand all the languages of the various races here, do not include being able to read them. It wasn’t something you ever really need to do, so you tend to kinda… forget it.

Yondu heaves a large sigh, his eyes narrow and his lips pulled down. For a very blue, very alien individual, his face is certainly incredibly expressive. Very humanly expressive.

While you’re trying to shake those thoughts, Yondu turns to the low table and settles himself there. He scribbles something into the notebook, and you wait a beat, trying to see what it is. After about 5 minutes of waiting, he’s still working on whatever it is. Bored, you turn back to the mess of your room and work on finishing straightening it up.

“C’m’re, girl,” He waves you over just as you’re finishing cleaning his mess. You roll your eyes, biting back grumbles. Were all space captains like this?

You settled next to him on the floor, glancing at the paper spread across the table. They were definitely blue prints, the layout and schematics very similar to some of the things your aunt would bring home from work, but again, you could only make out so much. None of your classes were actually in engineering.

“What’s it do?” You ask, moving to your knees to get a better look at everything, “Your implant?”

“A couple of things.” Yondu turns, his chest facing you, “Ya ever met a Centaurian before?”

“Nah,” You shake your head, “Why?”

“If I can find my arrow, this’ll help control it.”

“Arrow?”

He nods, “A yaka arrow…”

You chew your lip, thinking, “I… I don’t remember an arrow or anything when 142 brought you in…”

A strange sound leaves his mouth, something between a snort and a heavy sigh, “Ain’t that just typical.” He shuffles the papers about, and pulls out a different blue print than the others. It looks like a handheld radar, or a cross between the original Star Trek comm units and the ones they used in Galaxy Quest.

“What’s that?”

“Something that should help get us outta here.”

“Rad.” A smile bursts across your face as you look back at the Ravager, “Whatcha need?”

-

As it turned out, there was a number of things Yondu needs to craft the thing. Most of it sounds like nonsense, but you make sure to write a list down for yourself, and ask for an explanation about what each component does. About halfway through the never-ending list, you turn to the Centaurian and ask, “Are you sure you don’t wanna just go meet with Kameca?”

The look he leveled on you quickly shut down any more of those thoughts.

Later, as you’re searching through the closet for another pen, Yondu asks you, “Who’s the kid?” You look at him, lost, until he points to the phone in your hand.

“Oh! Um, it’s my cousin, Lily,” You show him the picture on your lockscreen, “I was watching her so my aunt could teach classes.” You study the picture, full of melancholy, before the screen goes dark. Sighing, you put the cell phone away.

“Cute kid.”

“Yeah, she’s a real good kid too,” You sigh again, “I miss her.” There’s a beat of silence between you. Handing a working pen to Yondu, you try to resurrect the conversation, “You, um, d’you have anyone you’re… missing?” You wince at the question. It’s not the most eloquent thing to ever leave your lips and it wasn’t the worst, but the awkwardness was undeniable. “Or whatever.”

Yondu snorts, taking the pen, “Yeah, I got my boys.”

“Your… boys?” You stumble over the word, not sure of what the actual context might be. Yondu certainly looks old enough to be a dad, but it’s very hard to tell with aliens. The Grandmaster claims to be millennia old, and despite the fact that Scrapper 142 looks only a little older than you, you always get the feeling she’s seen far more than any human could in one lifetime.

Yondu hums in response, his attention back to the paper scattered about.

“So, uh, what’re they like? Your boys?” Your curiosity is desperate for context.

“Little shits, the both o’ ‘em.” An extremely unflattering snort escapes you, followed by a rather ugly giggling fit. It wasn’t an answer you expected, and his face was so perfectly blank as he said it, but man is that a universal truth.

“You’re so right!” You manage to force out between giggles “Kids can be so terrible.”

A smile breaks across his face, something soft and genuine and. Oh. Oh.

It’s a nice smile. A very nice smile.

A knock sounds at your door, and it with a wave of relief that you go to answer it. Willing your face to cool, you open the door. Ruelyz is standing on the other side.

“Good evening, Storyteller,” The pink woman bows gracefully, “I hope I am not intruding?”

As soon as you see her, you immediately stand straighter, squaring your shoulders. “Of course not. How may I be of assistance?” You can tell from the schooled expression that she sports, whatever she says next is not going to be pleasant.

“The Grandmaster has requested your presence in his chambers.”

“I was under the impression that he had granted me this evening to myself and my guest.” There’s no words for the annoyance you feel. Didn’t she tell you this morning you were given days to this “project”? You can hear Yondu moving behind you.

“The Grandmaster claims that he cannot sleep tonight without one of your tales. I was sent to fetch you.”

“I see. Give me one moment, please.” She inclines her head in agreement, and you gently shut the door. Taking a good step back from it, you let out a quick exclaim, “Shit!” and move about your room in a flurry of movement.

“What’s got your underwears in a bunch, girlie?”

“You!” You turn and point at the Ravager, a wild look in your eye. In your other hand is a clean dress and your hairbrush, “I have to go tell a shitty bedtime story- don’t know how long it’ll take- I just-“ You run a hand through your hair, “Just. Like. Don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble? I don’t even know if you can leave this room…”

The controllers in the necks of the Grandmaster’s people are essentially shock collars and there are so many invisible fences in his tower…

Ruelyz knocks on your door again, “Storyteller?”

“Shit!”

“Look, I promise on the flame I wears, I ain’t gonna do anything stupid.” He stands, touching the emblem on his jacket. You can tell Yondu’s only humoring you, but man, it calms you down. Even if it’s really only a little. You turn away, dashing into the small washroom connected to yours. Quickly, you change your dress and run the brush through your hair.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can,” You tell Yondu, unsure of what else needs to be said. He just shrugs, and turns back to his clutter on the table, dismissing you.

It’s a little maddening.

Ruelyz knocks on the door again.

You step out, doing your best to appear as if floating. You put on your best ‘murder face’ and being your best ‘murder’ walk as you trail behind the other woman.

-

The Grandmaster is already settled into his great, plush bed and he looks a cross between weary and angry. The white pillows and blankets seem to swallow his whole body; the alien lord is just a dark blimp on a white cloud, in his blue and red bed clothes and eye mask pushed high on his forehead. There’s no smile, even as you enter the room.

“I can’t sleep.” He pouts, turning large brown eyes to you.

“I am very sorry to hear this, Master.” You step close to the bed. By his vanity is a man and woman, in various stages of undress. Apparently a bedtime story wasn’t the first thing he tried. The Grandmaster waves them away. “Shall I tell you a story?” You ask, keeping your back to them.

“Oh goodness, please yes!” The relief is strong in his soft voice.

“Well then-“

“Do you have any about your new friend yet?”

You bite back a grimace. You were afraid of this.

“Not yet, Master. It’s only been a day, and my… guest has been recuperating.”

“And here I was hoping for something new.”

“There are still many other tales I can spin for you, if you’d like,” You plaster a large smile on your lips, taking another step closer, “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you about unicorns.”

This grabs his interest, “Unicorns?”

“Yes. One of my favorites is about the last unicorn, who lived all alone in a lilac wood.”

There’s a moment of indecision on his face before, “No. I want to hear about the Centaurian,” He looks at you, “It’s, uh, been such a long time since I’ve seen one of them, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes. D’you know,” He sits up on his elbows, “That they’re a race of empaths? Or, empaths are common among them, I forget precisely. Uh they can, they can pick up on any surface emotions?”

“Oh. That is pretty interesting.” You try to image Yondu as an empath, but draw a blank. You’ve only known the Ravager for a day, and you can’t say you’ve met an alien empath before. What they’re like, you don’t know. Would a Ravager be interested in the emotions of those around them? Would you be, if you were a pirate, a theif? “D… Would you like to hear a story about empaths?”

“They’re a very interesting people, Centaurians are,” The Grandmaster continues, ignoring you completely, “They, the Centaurians, have a fin, a crest on their heads,” He motions across his own, in the same place where your new friend has his busted implant, “That is integral to them. It’s, uh, it’s important to their connection to one another.”

Well, at least you’re getting some questions answered. Questions you didn’t know you had,and now you definitely have more, and it’s a little worrying that the Grandmaster seems stuck on the subject and won’t. Stop. Talking.

“And gosh, they can be some great fighters. It’s been a very very long time since I’ve seen one in actual combat…”

“A crest you say?” You force a gasp, your heart speeding up, “That’s so similar to our tales of harpys on Terra!” It’s a lie. It’s such a lie, but the sooner you can get him to shut up and go to sleep the better.

“What’s a harpy?” The Grandmaster blinks owlishly at you, thoroughly derailed.

“It’s a creature of myth,” You begin, leaning close. Your voice lowers to a whisper, “They’re said to watch over souls in the Underworld…”

It takes probably about half an hour, but you get the Grandmaster to sleep. You’ve woven a tale of epic Grecian proportions, and hope the tale of harpys and heroes will be enough for him to forget that “Centaurians are great fighters”.

Yondu has to stay out of the Contest for as long as possible. Longer. The minute he gets sent to fight, that’s when you’ll lose your only ticket off this rock. Your only ticket home.

Hell, you’d sooner go fight in the Contest than let him go. At least then you’d maybe get a quick death.

“Just get back home.” You murmur under your breath as you leave the opulent rooms. You had a goal in sight, a goal to focus on; get Yondu what he needs, get off this planet, go home. A three step, hopeful plan. It had to work. It had to.

-

Yondu’s lounging in your bed by the time you get back to your rooms. The papers and notebook is missing from the table. You assume he’s hidden them away somewhere. But you’re ticked that he’s just. Laying in your bed. Duster, jacket and shirt mysteriously missing, leaving the blue alien very much half naked on your bed. With his hands resting behind his head, like it’s no big deal. Like he’s been waiting for you.

You say nothing, but level the best, angriest glare you can. You grab bed clothes from your closet, heading to your washroom. He is, of course, still laying there when you walk back in.

It’s a nice chest. Very solid, with good muscle structure. It’s probably very good for cuddling, even with the crisscross of scars across his torso and why were you even thinking that?

“What’re you doing?” The words are snappish. You’re exhausted and just want to sleep, but there is a strange blue alien pirate commandeering your whole bed. He moves only enough to pat the tiniest sliver of space next to him.

“Why don’tcha bring yaself over ‘ere and join me?”

You reply, flatly, “No thanks, dude.” Instead, you drag out the extra blanket from the closet and flop down into your armchair. Masterfully ignoring the admittedly kinda attractive person on your bed.

What in the galaxy is wrong with the alien men in your life?