#i might be analyzing this boyo’s room too much

[wildfyrevalkyrie]

one detail that i find neat about max’s room is that it’s filled with x-treme sports stuff (gear, posters, trophies) and one very expensive telescope. seriously, look at the size of that barrel.

its the only astronomy thing in his room (and the whole apartment tbh) and it is so important to him that not only does he keep it between moves, not only does he set it up before he’s even finished unpacking, but unlike everything else, its always by the window.

and the show does nothing with it??? someone please correct me if im wrong bc srsly what the fuck. in a sci-fi show about aliens, including one that has scenes establishing that he actively goes to the roof to stargaze, the telescope in the mc’s bedroom is never mentioned? like im not asking for much, just a scene of it in use or max commenting that it used to be his dad’s (bc jim 100% owned a telescope) and even though max never really got into stargazing all that much, he keeps it nearby bc it makes him feel connected to his dad.

or yknow, let him have this interest and reference it in the show without using the scope. ie max takes a moment to appreciate the night sky at literally any point when he’s away from copper canyon’s light pollution (up to and including one of the times they’re in space), or max and steel are speculating where steel/ultralinks come from, and max mentions/points in the genral direcrion of exoplanets

and, like, the show does this with the sports stuff. the skateboard’s a p perfect example, bc it also got to be in the room before the unpacking was finished, but we see max frequently using it, we see it getting moved about his bedroom bc he doesnt have a specific spot for it aside from generally at the foot of his bed, he connects to other characters over skateboarding.

or even the snowboard. it also goes unused, but its presence establishes that max is actively into and participated in more xtreme sports than skateboarding. it’s also a reminder that max isn’t from copper canyon, since here he is w this nice snowboard sandwiched btwn the coast and a mesa. (it’s also a reference to the 2000s max steel but shh)

tldr: most of the stuff in max’s room is p obviously related to his interests and then there’s this mysterious telescope that i go feral over every time i see it.

[greasers-against-onision]

Onion Boy’s Reapers Creek (BIG problems right off the bat)

Warning! Minor discussion of a lewd scene involving minors! Marker in red.

Hey onions slicers, I’m gonna go on a quick rant about Onion boyo’s third book in his horribly cursed trilogy of “””literature”””” (I hesistate to even call it that). This is my first real rant, so it might be too long, it might be too shitty, but we’re gonna try. I’m in AP English Literature and Composition, and I’ve been in AP English Language and Composition. I’ve got 2 years of reading classic novels and analyzing them under my belt. I know what can be considered at least an okay book. And Onion boy’s book is not okay. It’s not even bad. It’s the unbearable. Because of my experience with all that AP “author’s purpose” shit I’m going to be critiquing this very harshly.

Also I’m REALLY sorry this came out super long, I got carried away lmao.

Also good luck to anyone taking any APs this year! I’m rooting for y’all! :)

I really sympathized with KrimsonRogue in his review. (LINK! It’s a great video, I highly recommend it. I applaude Krimson for putting up with all of Greg’s shit.) I read up until Chapter 10, as I just couldn’t handle the disgusting content Onision’s had written in—nor could I decipher exactly why he put it in there. Whatever the reason was, it was as poorly executed as the rest of every type of similar scene Greg has written.

There are some pieces of work that are so bad it’s good. Let’s look at The Room, by Tommy Wiseau, for example. A classic definition of “so bad it’s good”. Awful writing and dialogue, even worse acting...but it’s all these that gives it its charm. I’m a sucker for shitty works like these. But Onision’s Reapers Creek** is so bad it hurts. There are some moments that are straight up disturbing and SHOULD NOT EVER have been as much as conceived by Gurg’s edgy twisted mind.

****——Warning: slight discussion of a lewd scene involving minors below!——****

Aside from its obvious self-insert main character,—“Daniel” is sometimes referred to as Greg, oops!—the poor formatting, the endless typos, the shitty syntax style, etc, the biggest most disgusting part about the book is the explicit scenes with the 11 YEAR OLD MC. And it’s EXPLICIT. It is a sex scene. With an 11 year old boy. I do not care that Julie or Julia (or however Greg felt to spell her name this time around) is 15. They are MINORS. I nearly fucking threw up reading this. If you don’t believe This is CHILD PORNOGRAPHY, Greg! Do you know how many sick, disgusting fucks would get off to this if you let them get their hands on this?

For comparison, let’s look at Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov. It’s a controversial work, I know, and absolutely disgusting to read, but I have read it to reference it on the AP at the advice of my teacher, as she read it in grad school. Keep in mind, Lolita is by far worse in content, as it focuses on a pedophilic relationship throughout the whole novel. There are gross scenes where the nasty pedo protag makes out with Lo, but there are no explicit sex scenes. The most is like a sentence just saying that it happened. But it was done with a reason. Nabokov uses pretty language and juxtaposes it with horrible, disgusting acts on the protagonist. It’s about propaganda. The reader is tricked by the protagonist Humbert into thinking he is a good guy on purpose. It’s “Tyranny from the POV of the Tyrant”, as one person put it.

The point is, Nabokov had passable reason to write on a subject matter so horrifying and despicable. To show how people can be manipulated with pretty words and an unreliable narrator (sound familiar?) By the way, it’s totally fine if you disagree and hate Lolita. It’s an uncomfortable read, and I totally understand. I’m just bringing up its merit to show how Greg’s writing is utterly horrible.

Why does Greg make his 11 year old protagonist have sex? Why, the same reason there’s sex scenes in all of his other books! The same reason he throws tragedies like school shootings in his books. Because he wants his self inserts to get laid. Why the fuck else?

In Stones to Abagaile**, the school shooting only brings James and his love interest closer together.

In This is Why I Hate You**, the school shooting again only brings Arthur and whatever love interest he had back home closer together again.

In this book, its sex for sex’s sake. Greg just wants Greg—oops! Silly me, I mean Daniel— to get laid. That’s it. Oh, and didn’t Onision himself give us the green light to interpret the novel as we wish? In the introduction he says that we can decide what really happened and what is just a “product of creativity” I believe he said. So, in the words of KrimsonRogue, headcanon accepted, Greg only wrote this to fulfill his weird fantasies.

Thank you for listening to me go on a literary rant about this shitty book.

**I’m not gonna italicize it. It doesn’t deserve even that. These books suck, btw. Not you, though. You rock. :) unless you’re Onision.

[quietasasanctuarymouse]

Season 1 Episode 5 1/2 ~ Settling In

Rowan burst into the study, startling Helen who was standing at her desk. “Dear gods, Helen. What happened?” she questioned, wrapping her in her arms, holding her tightly. “You could have died up there,” she held her face in her hands, panic written plainly in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Rowan, what’s gotten into you?”

Her face paled as she realized the error she had made in her worried lack of judgement. They were not paramours, not even casual lovers. She was Helen’s dear old friend, survived from an era long past. The woman in her arms in front of her saw her as nothing more. Heat rising to her cheeks, she let go of Helen as if her hands had been burned. “I’m sorry, I was just so worried when I heard what had happened, and I’m relieved to see you home safely.” She bowed extravagantly, as she used to in the early days now far gone. “Please forgive me my overstep, Fairest Lady,” she smiled up at Helen, hoping the ridiculousness of the gesture would overshadow the true depths of the feelings she was quite sure were clearly written in her eyes.

Helen let out a lilting laugh that set Rowan’s heart fluttering against her ribcage, curtsying slightly in return, “There is nothing to forgive, Gallant Knight,” she giggled, “though my pardon you shall have, if so you wish it.”

Rowan beamed at her as she lightly kissed Helen’s hand before straightening. “I thank thee kindly, Mistress.” Rowan cleared her throat, all frivolity erased from her countenance as she offered her hand to Helen, “Inis dom. What happened?”

Allowing herself to be led to the settee before the fire, Helen recounted the tale.

Rowan knocked at the door of Henry’s laboratory, “Pardún, Master Foss, I wonder if I might procure your assistance with a few renovations. I do believe I might be here for a while, and I’ve decided to take my gracious hostess up on her offer of allowing me to modify my chambers. I have some things of my own that will be arriving shortly, but obviously I can’t handle the plumbing on my own.”

“Sure, of course.” Henry smiled uncomfortably at her, he was still awkward around her Sidhe charms. He would come around to normalcy eventually, but he had to want to be unaffected first. “Uh, plumbing??”

Rowan grinned, “This won’t be a problem, will it?”

“No. Uh, no. Of course not. I’ll just need to do some checking into the finances, you know, to see which account to take the funds out of. Shouldn’t, uh, be a problem. Only take me a minute.”

Rowan handed him a small strip of paper, some numbers scribbled on it in an elegant hand. “The funds will come from this account, Mister Foss. I’m sure you’ll find more than an adequate amount to cover the work I’ll need done, cinnte.”

“Right, of course.” Henry quickly input the numbers into his system. “Uh, this isn’t one of ours. Does, uh, does the boss have a personal account I don’t have in the system?”

“The nature of Helen’s personal accounts is outside of my purview, so I cannot speak to such. As for the account I have given you to fund my changes to the tower room, it is my own. Helen has been kind enough to offer me both- pardon the pun- sanctuary in her home, and the freedom to make it my own at my own discretion. I shan’t abide further infringement upon her hospitality by expecting nor accepting her funding of alterations that I make to my own chambers. Tuigeann tú?”

“Uh, yeah. Absolutely,” Henry smiled appreciatively. This mysterious hottie might turn out to be a pretty decent roommate yet. “So, what’re we gonna do?”

Rowan smiled at him in return and settled down next to him. Grabbing a pad and pen, she began to sketch the designs she had made.

Just as Rowan reached the elevator after leaving Henry’s lab, Will caught up to her. “Uh, hey. I was wondering if we could talk? We really haven’t had much chance since you got here, and I’d like to. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“By all means, Sir William, please, carry on.” They stepped into the elevator together.

“You, uh, you’ve been keeping pretty much to yourself since you got here. I hope we haven’t made you feel out of place.”

His concern was genuine, and rather endearing. “Not at all, Will. I just haven’t wanted to step on anyone’s toes. I recognize I’m an interloper here, and it is not my intent to involve myself with the dynamic that has developed between your colleagues, nor is it my interest to attempt to push my way into your team or your work. I am merely an old friend of Helen’s who has come to spend time with her and become reacquainted after all these long years. I’m fond of and passionate about the work and the mission of the Sanctuary. I have long been one of its biggest supporters, and I would happily dedicate my life to continuing to advance its pursuits. Hardly nothing, in fact, would give me greater pleasure. But I won’t overstep my bounds and tread a path beyond my place.” She smiled evenly at Will, “I also feel it would be most prudent for my integration into matters here, both work related and simply as a resident, should be of the quite slow and steady sort. I’m not exactly the average ‘new recruit’, I have history with Helen. Deep, long history. And this is her home. You all are her family. You each have a place here, a role, and a relationship with her that carries beyond coworker, employee. Too much too fast from me could devalue the special place in her heart you each have as well as the important roles that you each play in her life. That is something I would never wish to do.

“I am here, and available, to any and all of you, in whatever you may need or wish, as you are each comfortable. However, for the time being anyway, I am quite content to simply sit on the sidelines and allow each of you to come to me in your own time, at your own pace. I’m not here to take over, and to make sure that reads loud and clear, at least for now, that means I won’t be getting involved, either. Not unless I am requested to.”

“Wow. Uh, okay,” Will searched for words, this exchange was not at all what he had expected when he had approached her. “Well, would you mind if I asked to know a bit about you? We’ve talked about your people, and your history with Magnus. But I’d like to know your history. If, that is, I’m not prying too much?” The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the hallway, turning down the corridor leading to the library.

“Not at all,” she smiled. He still didn’t know what to make of her. She found it quite amusing, because it was probably a rather rare experience for him. “Guigh inis, what would you know?”

“Well, you’ve said you lived in London for a time, when you went to school at Oxford, and Magnus told me about when you left.” He paused, she gathered he was feeling her out to see if it bothered her that Helen had told him some of their personal history. When he got no response other than her cool gaze, waiting, he continued. “I guess I’m curious what you were doing around that time. Before, after.”

“Well, I spent a good deal of time travelling about what you would know as the British Isles in my youth; Eire, Alba, Cymru, Albion. As for what I did, well, none of it I’m sure would translate the times for you. I’m Fae, William, we live for the earth, of the earth. We have duties to the land and charges to fulfill. I travelled, I saw the world (what of it mattered in those days), I carried out my purpose.”

They sat at one of the tables in the library, Will watching her closely, gauging, judging, assessing. “Eire, Albion, those are names from the middle ages, aren’t they? I mean, Magnus said you were older than she is now back then, but, surely….”

“I’m four hundred and seventy, boyo, and I have a birthday coming yet this year.”

Will couldn’t hide the surprise in his eyes. “Uh, wow. The things you must have seen.” Realization dawned and he let out a nervous laugh. “The world must seem so strange to you now.”

She smiled, amusement sparkling in her eyes, “Is ea, ​​mar a dhéanann sé. So it does. When you’ve had as much time to watch the world grow as I have, most of it just seems natural. It makes sense. There are some things, though, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to. But when you have forever, aon rud is féidir, who knows.”

“And, after you left London? What did you do then?”

“Mar sin, now we come to it, do we? You think to find where I’ve been since Helen and I last saw each other. Nochtfaidh mé mo rún, catch me out?”

Will realized he needed to tread very carefully here, “I’m not trying to catch anything. I’m simply curious about your life. Did you go back to Ireland, continue ‘fulfilling your purpose’?” he shrugged noncommittally, as if he had no interest one way or another in the answer, as if it were just idle conversation. In truth, he knew nothing about this woman, and it was obvious Magnus held strong feelings for her. He didn’t know Magnus all that well either, come to think of it, but he liked her very much. He cared for her, and had no desire to see her hurt. Something about this strange woman and her mysterious reemergence didn’t sit right with him, and he intended to suss out why.

“Mar a déarfá, I have returned to Erie a few times since then, though not for the same reasons I was there in my early days. I have travelled, studied, seen the world- far more of it than there was when I was yet a wee lass. Le fíor, I discovered my path and I have walked it well.”

Will listened to her intently, studying, analyzing. She had a very odd way of speaking; ancient Gaelic, modern Irish colloquialisms, and Renaissance English all rolled together; she combined that with courtly mannerisms and a spritely mischievousness that made it hard to pin her down. He supposed it made sense, the strange combination, having lived almost 500 years all over the world, of course she would be an amalgamation of all her wheres and whens. “You’ve lived a long time. Have you done it alone? I mean, do you have a family? Have you ever had one?”

Now we were getting to the heart of it. He had asked the question casually enough, and it was certainly a fair curiosity to have, but she heard the reasons underneath quite clearly, and they were anything but casual. “I have had my affairs in my time, young William, if that is what you are asking.”

He cleared his throat, “Well, no, actually. I mean, I’m sure that, given the extraordinary length of your life, of course-” Rowan eyed him with amusement. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I guess I wasn’t questioning casualness. Life can get rather lonely for those of us who only have it 80 or 90 years tops, I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be for you. Companionship on a deeper level, it’s a great comfort. Have you shared your life with someone, or someones? You’ve certainly had time enough for more than one.”

“Feicim, well, young Master William, allow me to enlighten you about my people. The Daoine Sidhe mate for life. For immortal beings, that’s quite the commitment. For the last of our line, well, it’s quite the tale of caution. When we give our hearts, we do it but once in our own lifetime, for we give it whole and complete, nothing is held in reserve, and we do not ever get it back. Once given, it is no longer ours. If our mate doesn’t reciprocate our feelings, or leaves us, or dies- there is no next time. Our heart has been given, and that cannot be undone. We do not love again. Ever. Not in that way. So, no, I have not shared my life with someones, borne families. For I get only one.”

As she spoke, Will avidly watched everything for ticks and tells. This was, after all, the very heart of what he wanted to find out about her. Yet, she was as closed to him as if he were blind. He could read nothing, nothing at all. When he had seen her in the study that first day, with Magnus, he barely had to look at all to tell what she was thinking, feeling. But now, he couldn’t get anything off of her. As if she had locked the door in his face. What had he done to offend her, cause her to draw away and close off? And how was it possible for her to do so? He’d never met anyone who could shut him out like this. Then it hit him. Magnus. Of course. She had never let him in at all, and she wasn’t closing him out now. It was Magnus. Rowan’s feelings for her, whatever precisely they might be- for that history was long and tangled and he couldn’t even begin to unwind the nature of their relationship- kept her open to Magnus. She let her in, probably without even consciously realizing it. She wasn’t shutting Will down, she just kept herself closed to everyone but Magnus. Why? And why, for what- fifteen years?- out of five hundred, would you carry that level of vulnerability with someone when you were obviously so tightly guarded in every single other aspect of your life?

“Níos mó?”

Lost deep in his own thoughts, Will barely heard her speak. What he did hear, he didn’t understand. “I’m sorry, what?”

She smiled softly, realizing she had spoken in the Old Tongue, “Do you have more you wish to know?”

“Oh, uh,” Will scrambled to collect his thoughts. Her last answer had not been what he had expected. “The, uh, the Five. Magnus told me a little. Did you know them?”

“Oh, tá, I did at that. They were fairly newly formed when I met them, you know. Hadn’t even found the formula for that serum of theirs yet. Though, I didn’t know until after they had all taken it what their intentions were.” Her eyes went out of focus, staring off into the long ago. “Nobody liked Nikola, he was always the arrogant sort, even then, though he was blessed brilliant. Nigel and James, now they were fine gents, the pair of ‘em. John, though, I never really knew quite what to make of him. Something was always a bit off about him.”

“You mean Druitt?”

“Ay, bit cnó that one. But he loved Helen, that much was clear, and in those days, that was enough for me. As they say, love covers a multitude of sins.”

“What exactly happened with him? Them?” Will leaned forward, his curiosity amply piqued.

“Ní hea. Sorry, boyo, not my story to tell. You want to know about Helen and her love, go maith, you ask Helen.”

Will lowered his head, scolded, “Right. Sorry.”

“They were a close knit bunch, those five. Did everything together, not just their work. I floated around the fringes, myself. Helen, I think, would have drawn me all the way in had it been up to her, if for no other reason than to have another woman standing beside her. The boys, though, they held their reservations about me, mistrustful. Now that I know the aims of their little clan, I think, in part, afraid that one already outside the scope of ‘normal’ would have rather strong opinions about their notion to alter themselves so drastically.”

“And did you? I mean, would you have, if you had known?”

“Is cuma. I didn’t know and by the time I did, they had already taken the serum. Changed themselves forever, for better or worse. It was their choice alone to make, and they made it. Déantar an méid atá déanta.”

“Hey, Will?” Ashley walked into the library carrying a stack of files. “I was wondering-” she stopped short as she noticed Rowan. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were in the middle of something. I can come back.”

Rowan jumped to her feet, startled and- something else Will couldn’t put his finger on, though he’d like to. “Oh, no. I’d hate to be in the way.” She nodded at Will, “Thank you for the chat, I’m sure we can continue it later if you’d wish.” Her gaze turned back to Ashley, unable to focus and staring overmuch at the same time. “Ashley, nice to- I- uh….” She swept out of the room, her black satin skirts swirling after her.

Ashley turned to Will, eyebrows raised, an awkward laugh on her lips. “What was that?”

Will, who was still staring after Rowan, shook his head in confusion, “I have no idea.”

Late that night, meditating in her room, Rowan’s senses alerted her to an approaching presence, she felt it long before she heard it. As she listened, she heard the soft, light footfalls climbing the stairs below her, they paused briefly on the landing outside her door, and then they continued on again, heading up to the roof. Quietly, Rowan climbed off her bed, donned a robe, and followed the footsteps to the roof.

Helen stood in the pale moonlight, her hair blowing in the breeze. Coming to stand beside her, Rowan pulled her cover tightly closed around her. “You were right to be worried,” Helen said quietly. “Honestly, I thought I very likely was dead up there. I guess I don’t think about it much, indefinite lifespan and all, but I didn’t like the way it felt. That sense of this is the end. I’ve only ever truly felt that way once, you know.” She shuddered. “I never want to feel that way again. It was the most terrible night of my life.”

Rowan silently wrapped a comforting arm around Helen, pulling her close. Helen responded by resting her head on Rowan’s shoulder, both of them staring out into the night.

After a time, seeming to resurface from the depths of her memories, Helen broke their silence. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.” She smiled at her dear friend.

“And I, you, Helen. And I, you.” She returned the smile, hoping the low light would hide the sadness in her eyes. The desire for something more that, at least now, wasn’t meant to be. “It’s late,” she said softly. “You’ve had quite the ordeal. You should get yourself into bed.”

“Yes, I suppose I should.” She turned for the stairs, stopped, looked back. “Are you coming?”

Rowan’s heart was in her throat, pounding so loudly she was sure it was impossible for Helen not to hear it. It wasn’t the offer it sounded like, and she knew it. She was an old friend to Helen, that was all. She needed to stop allowing herself to hear things that weren’t there. “I’ll get some sleep myself, shortly,” she said hoarsely. “I think I’ll enjoy the view just a bit longer. Good night, Helen.”

For just a moment, Helen had thought Rowan might come with her. That maybe, just maybe, their romance hadn’t ended in London all those years ago after all. That, maybe, Rowan would come to bed with her. It was a silly notion. They were friends. Dear, old friends. But friends, nonetheless. Rowan had offered, once, over a century ago. She had turned her down. Why should she think it would still be waiting for her now? “Good night,” she whispered, disappearing into the darkness and down the stairs.

[sunflowersupremes]

Whistle (White You Work)

Summary: Everything would be fine except that everything and everyone is out to get him. (Everyone, of course, being Rocket and everything being anything that makes a whistling sound).

Yondu Week Day One: Red, Music, Ability, Dream, Heart

Series: PTSD Headcanons

Characters: Peter Quill, Yondu Udonta, Gamora (Marvel), Mantis (Marvel), Drax the Destroyer, Groot (Marvel), Rocket Raccoon

Read on AO3

The first time, it was an accident. Rocket was messing with the cookstove and the space equivalent of a teapot - not that he was making food with it, he had said something about nitroglycerin - when it let out an ear-piercing whistle.

Peter had been buried in a part of the Milano’s wiring, attempting to extract a tiny Groot who had shimmed inside and fallen out of reach. When he heard the sharp noise he shouted and banged his head on the pipes above him, extracting himself from the wall less than gracefully. “I didn’t do anything!” he yelped out of pure habit wheeling around and expecting to see the red gleam of a Yaka arrow and a sneering blue face. Instead, the face that met his was green and concerned.

Gamora was standing at the table, her eyes wide as she watched him curse and rub his head, angry at himself for having let Yondu get to him. “Peter are you-”

“Fine!” he snapped.

“I am Groot?” the miniature houseplant he had been attempting to rescue had freed himself - because of course, why couldn’t he get himself out? Peter wanted to smack himself. Don’t nobody need your help boyo, Yondu reminded him - and was looking up at him with huge eyes.

“I’m fine buddy,” he muttered, scooping up the plant and placing him on his shoulder. Groot grabbed onto his hair and settled into his collar happily.

Sen-ti-ment, eh Petey? Sniggered a voice in his head. “Shut up!” Peter hissed. On his shoulder, Groot tugged worriedly at his hair.

“Peter?” Gamora asked, folding her arms across her chest. Telling imaginary people to shut up was apparently NOT helping his attempts to convince his new team that he was Perfectly Sane And Very Capable of Leadership Thank You Very Much. She looked far too worried - did daughters of Thanos know how to pity? - although, if there were about to have a heart to heart about their Unspoken Thing Peter was not planning on stopping her.

Any hope of their Unspoken Thing becoming a Spoken Thing was shattered as Rocket burst into the room, screaming, “Don’t touch that! It might explode!” At that exact moment, the kettle chose to, well, explode.

The second time was less of an accident. Either Gamora had told Rocket about his freak out over the whistling kettle (unlikely) or Rocket had spied on them with the Milano’s security system (more likely) or Groot had innocently babbled about it (most likely). Peter tried not to be angry with the tree, it wasn’t his fault Rocket took things too far.

The whistle had shocked him out of his trance, staring at a bobble he had almost pocketed - although there was no reason to horde shinies so he could bribe Yondu next time he ticked him off (no amount of trinkets would fix the Infinity Stone mess) - but habits were habits and it really was a cute bug-like creature. He nearly knocked over the table in his haste to turn around, automatically fearing the worst and assuming that Yondu had somehow found them and was about to run him through.

Capt’n’s gotta teach his men a lesson.

He didn’t see the arrow, although that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, and Peter was just about to reach for his communicator to tell his crew to run like hell and don’t look back when he heard laughter.

“Did you see his face?” Across the market, under a tree, Rocket slapped his knee and guffawed. Not a fake laugh like what he had done onboard the Elector when presented with 12% of a plan, but an honest to goodness This Shit Was Too Good laugh.

Peter wished he had he own arrow to run him through with.

Drax was also laughing, no doubt this was a part of Rocket’s teach him what metaphors are before he accidentally offends someone plan. Gamora and Groot for their parts looked worried and confused, respectably. He stormed toward his crew, intent on shouting Rocket’s ugly grin off his stupid furry face.

“Quill that was priceless!” he yowled. “Do it again!” Rocket pursed his lips to whistle again, but Peter was already on him, kicking him over and pinning him with his foot.

“That wasn’t funny you stupid Raccoon!” he yelled.

“I’m not a Racoon!”

“I thought I was gonna die!” Peter increased the weight he was putting on Rocket’s chest, not caring how much it hurt.

Gamora, who had apparently been content to let Peter and Rocket shout it out for once, lunged forward. “Peter you’re hurting him!”

“I thought Yondu had found us and was gonna run me through with his arrow!” Passerbys were starting to stop and watch the spectacle: an angry human pinning a rodent with a well-known assassin wrapping her arms around his leg while Mr. Clean watched and a plant cried. Shit, this was not his plan.

“Peter stop!” Gamora shouted.

“And you know what I was gonna do? I was gonna tell your worthless mug to run, you Creepy Little Beast!”

“I am not a Beast!” With that Rocket managed to free himself, either from pure spite or Gamora’s incessant tugging, either way, he was one second short of eating Peter’s face off when a loud sob cut him off.

“I-I a-am Grooooot!”

The Guardians ceased their fight, turning to see Drax attempting to calm the smallest - and youngest - of their number and all arguments were forgotten as he blubbered on about not wanting his friends to kill each other.

“I wasn’t gonna kill him,” Rocket grumbled, “just gonna eat him a bit.”

“Dude!”

“Rocket!” Gamora looked ready to murder them both.

When a whistle jerked him out of his sleep, Peter was fairly certain it wasn't Yondu.

If the pirate had managed to board the Milano, sneak past or incapacitate the Guardians, and find Peter then maybe he deserved to kill him.

"It was Yondu, wasn't it?"

"What?" Peter was too groggy to understand what was happening, struggling to sit up and look his friend in the face. Of course, sitting up would have been much easier if Gamora wasn't practically sitting on him, her eyes sharp and certain.

"I have been watching you Quill, and it has become increasingly clear that you are uncomfortable around objects that emit a frequency greater than-"

He cut her off, not wanting to hear that she had analyzed the decibel rating of Yondu's Yaka arrow. "He's gonna come back Gamora. I tricked him out of the biggest hit he's ever seen."

Gamora finally crawled off Peter, allowing him to sit up and attempt to process his thoughts. "You saved millions of people."

He snorted. The day Yondu cared about someone other than himself Peter would eat his walkman. "He's a pirate, Gamora. He doesn't save people, he kidnaps them." He had once accused Yondu of enslaving him, but Yondu had made the difference quite clear by dragging the then 12-year-old to a slave auction and threatening to leave him. “He’s gonna be pissed and if I ever see him again-”

“I will end him.” She sounded so confident as if it truly were that simple.

“I-” he probably should thank her for offering to defend him. If she - or anyone - had made the offer to murder Yondu for him when he was younger he would have taken them up on it in a heartbeat. He had even dreamed of killing Yondu himself at times. But as he grew older he had become less certain that was what he wanted, hence why he had run away instead of murdering Yondu. “I guess.”

“You care for him.” It wasn’t a question, more of an accusation. When Peter didn't immediately respond she pressed, “Why? He hurt you.”

“He-” Peter waved his hand as if meaningless gestures could explain how he was feeling. “He kept me alive.”  

“He threatened to eat you and “kicked the crap” out of you.” She narrowed her eyes. “He was going to kill you in front of me.”

Peter groaned. He was not awake enough for this conversation. “But he wasn’t looking at me.”

“I was not aware that if you do not look at your victims they don’t die.”

“He always looks at people when he’s killing them, especially crew. He couldn’t look at me because-” he waved his arms again. “He had to make a point.” He didn’t want to kill me. It was a thought he rarely let himself think because admitting that Yondu never seemed particularly inclined to follow through on his threats opened up a lot more questions.

Gamora seemed to understand what he wasn't saying. “You care for him.”

Peter launched to his feet, voice rising in frustration. “I don’t know!” His voice softened, dropping to a whisper. "Maybe - yes."

She didn’t question him after that, and no one dared to whistle around him.

The last time he heard the whistle his heart nearly did stop, not out of terror, but out of relief.

The ship was exploding around them and Peter hadn’t had time to make sure any of his team had gotten out alive. When the whistle sounded above him he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and looked up, seeing Yondu floating above him. “You look like Mary Poppins!” he teased.

Peter was sure he had mentioned Mary Poppins to Yondu before, each time the alien had just brushed it off as stupid Terran nonsense. But to his surprise - although, nothing could be more surprising than Yondu showing up to rescue him (except maybe the confession that the cannibalism was a joke) - Yondu looked thoughtful and then called, “Is he cool?”

He? Peter almost pointed out the hilarious part of the joke, that he was comparing Yondu (who was anything but ladylike) to one of the most famous women in history. Fuck it. Family bonding only happens once. “Hell yeah, he’s cool.”

“I’m Mary Poppins ya’ll!” Peter laughed and allowed himself to look forward to a future where he could poke fun at Yondu without thinking he was going to be maimed, tortured, eaten or any mix of the three.

There wasn’t a next time. Sound doesn’t travel in space and frozen lips cannot whistle.

Author’s Note:

If you enjoyed this and want to read more of my Guardians of the Galaxy PTSD headcanons (I would say Peter Quill PTSD Headcanons, but there is a Stakar and Yondu fic in the works) then subscribe to the PTSD Headcanons Series. Subscribing to this story won't do you any good because I prefer to keep my one-shots separated so I can organize them better.

I do take prompt requests! Just dump it in a comment!

** "kicked the crap out of me" is technically something Peter says in Volume 2, but I figure he's probably said similar before, which is why I let Gamora quote it.

** Yes Yondu did use his arrow after the Mary Poppins scene, but I'm going on the assumption that Peter might not have heard it clearly.

[its-called-a-balaclava]

The Team Fortress Testing Initiative (Chapter 4)

Every merc is testing solo. Wait― not anymore!

Multiple Chapters

Teen & Up Audiences

Back to the Beginning

Previous Chapter

Chapter Four: Determined to Do Science

A problem arose. More test subjects than there were chambers. She’d done some more digging on their files. These weren't ordinary people, and by extension, they weren't ordinary test subjects. The science was off.

She ran all of the factors of the situation through her analyzer. It was like a calculator, in that she would put in information and it would spit the answer back at her. It worked off of her power supply, but it took away the bias of her sentience.

The results came back. “Cooperative testing. Collect data on atypical subject interactions.”

It made sense, logically. This was the largest amount of “atypical” subjects she’d ever had at one time. Observing their interactions might bring about some good. But, she couldn't shake the feeling that it’d be better if she just cut off their oxygen rather than let them share test chambers.

That's why she had a situation analyzer, though. She didn't need a false sense of instinct getting in the way of science. Cooperative testing. So be it.

Medic didn't understand why Archimedes was suddenly so clingy, refusing to take off into the air, but he was fine with it. He was rather protective of the bird, and having Archimedes close meant he could focus less on keeping him safe and more on these tests. Quite interesting logic puzzles, they were.

It was quite disturbing, the way the turrets said, “I don't blame you,” or “Goodbye,” as they shut down. As he rode the elevator up, he made a mental note to tell Engie to add that quality to his sentries.

He was greeted with a surprise as he exited the elevator. “Heavy!” he called out.

“You do look a sight in those boots,” he said, walking towards him.

The large man nodded. “I do not doubt this,” and Medic laughed.

“Well, this is not our usual setup,” GLaDOS heard Medic through the microphones. “But I am sure we will find some way to make this work to our advantage.”

An unlucky service bot took the brunt of her frustration, getting pummeled by a crusher panel so she could vent and calm down. They had worked together before! This would ruin the data! She knew she had to keep the Scout and Spy separate, but this, this was annihilating what little she was salvaging from the experiment.

She fed this new information into the situation analyzer. The results came back: “Error. Error. Error.”

And now they were laughing some more. Great. She was done watching from the sidelines.

“Hey fatty, stupid-hair. Stop talking and start testing.” The woman’s voice came out of nowhere.

They glanced at each other. It was the woman that Scout and Spy had talked about.

“I said move it. Or did you not hear me? Did the fat take up so much space it had to go into your ear canals, baldy?”

“Wow, she truly is mean,” Medic murmured, resting a hand on Heavy’s back. Medic could care less about the jab at his hair, but the fat jokes at Heavy’s expense? The woman was definitely not on Medic’s good side.

Heavy huffed through his nostrils. Scout had mentioned that the woman liked to take shots at people. She didn’t seem very original; he’d gotten more comments on his weight than he could count. But she did seem to get straight to hitting where it hurt.

Heavy exchanged a glance with Medic. He was sure that a few more jabs at the doctor would have him responding; Medic was more of a hothead than people pegged him for. But for now, neither of them responded, instead choosing to look over the room’s test.

“Not too difficult,” murmured Heavy.

“No, not at all.” Medic responded.

Sniper was alone, but not alone.

“Go on. Incinerate it.” GLaDOS was having fun. “It wants you to incinerate it. It knows you need to incinerate it to go on with the test.”

A so-called Weighted Companion Cube. It was just a heavy box, with stupid hearts painted on the side. He had to lug it through a horribly long test, and he was finally near the end. Just incinerate it, and…

But he’d had to carry that box for what felt like forever. And now that… Woman? Robot? Well, she was practically taunting him with this.

“It’s glad it's been able to help you through the test. It needs you to do this. Listen to it. You've been calling the shots this whole time. Don't be selfish.”

Sniper tried to tune the voice out. He smacked the incinerator entrance open and dropped the heavy box in before he could dwell on it.

The door opened.

“I was lying.” she said. “I can't believe you believed me. You know what it actually wanted? It wanted to stay with you. It thought you were smart enough to save you both. It had faith in you. And you destroyed it. But don't sorry, I'm sure it was calm, with all of its misplaced trust in you, until the very last second.”

Sniper didn't say anything, but he banged the glass of the elevator with his fist, resting his head against the wall and wishing the woman would shut up.

GLaDOS chuckled. Such a sensitive man, for an assassin. She looked through his file.

Sniper would soon find out that that cube was much more preferable company than his next “Companion”.

“Ayyyyy!” Demo greeted Soldier.

“You look stupid!” he replied.

Demo laughed. “I know I do, lad!” It was their thing. “How’s it goin’?”

“I haven't had anyone to kill. If this keeps going on, I will need to kill you. To keep my quota up. And I will have to do it with my bare hands, because this gun is a disappointment!” Soldier said.

Demo chuckled, but stepped away from the man.

“Oh, please do kill each other. I could film it, and sell the footage for profit.” They heard the woman’s voice speaking directly to them for the first time.

Soldier didn't miss a beat. “There will be no money made off of the death of a good American. He will die with honor, and with dignity, and with my own two fists wrapped around his neck!”

“He’s Scottish.” she said.

Demo looked up to the ceiling. “Oh, that little―” he thought, before soldier started attacking him.

“Undercover agent! Undercover agent!” he cried.

“Hey, hey― you know who’s the actual undercover agent? The lady. And we have to do this test, so that we can find her. And defeat whatever agency she's working for. For America. Okay, boyo?” Demo said, hands in the air.

Soldier promptly removed his hands from Demo’s throat and stood at attention. “Obviously!” he said. “Let’s go!”

Overall, GLaDOS was pleased with how the testing was going. No one was causing trouble, except to one another, and the testing chambers were secure. Her “instincts” about the situation were still bothering her, but she ignored them.

Pauling had called the base eleven― eleven!― times, trying to reach someone. Requisitions we're taking up space in her office. Normally there’d be a scramble for the stuff they’d ordered. But there was a pile of American flags, cigarettes, beer, and animal organs that hadn't been collected.

The organs were starting to smell. She’d hopped on her moped, and understood the situation immediately; both Sniper’s van and Spy’s car were gone, meaning the whole team was out. They weren’t supposed to do that, without letting her know. And they certainly shouldn't have been gone for this long.

She followed the trail that the rarely-used vehicles left. Whatever they were doing, it had better be damn important, or else there’d be a bunch of requisitions that they simply wouldn't get.