#today my friend told me it's okay to be more emotionally available and I legit almost started crying

[fritzes]

it's a staring at the fic doc but not writing anything kind of night

[abortionmonologues]

Abortion Monologue #3 - I Took a Pregnancy Test as a Joke. It Laughed Back.

I found out I was pregnant on a Saturday afternoon while I was cleaning my apartment. I found an old pregnancy test under the bed and laughed to myself and set it aside while I continued sweeping. An hour later, I felt the urge to pee and thought it would be funny to do the pregnancy test. I set it on the side of the bathtub and scrolled through Twitter while I sat on the toilet. I glanced at it. Two lines, as expected.

Wait, what?

Two lines means pregnant, right? Okay, not what I was expecting. I knew work had been crazy and I had missed a couple pills but the pregnancy test was old. Probably a false positive. Obviously. But I knew false positives were rare. I sent a photo of the test to my friend.

Her response: the fuck? Do it again.

So I did. I went to the pharmacy and bought three more tests. One expensive, brand name one and two cheaper ones. Came home and did all three. So now I had four positive tests. Double lines and plus signs everywhere. My immediate thought was how do I get rid of it. My next thought was, should I tell the father?

The father and I had a huge fight just two nights before. We argued on the phone and I got so upset that I threw my phone at the wall and the screen shattered. I had blocked him. And I meant it that time. He was blocked forever. But now I had to unblock him.

But not yet. First, I told another friend and asked her if she knew where I could get an abortion. She gave me the details for a gynaecologist who had done the procedure for a friend of a friend. I called the number. The office was closed on Saturdays.

I sighed and unblocked the father. I told him about the tests, that it was his and that I was looking into getting an abortion. He was surprised, said he supported my decision and offered to pay for it. He asked about my mental wellbeing and we talked for a bit.

I began searching online. Frantic googling. I found a website that sent abortion pills to women in countries where abortions are illegal. I was skeptical, but all my research checked out. It really seemed legit. The site sends the pills to you for a donation. You give whatever you can, even if that’s $0. I signed up and spent the $0, just in case my trip to the doctor didn’t work out.

The following Monday, I called and scheduled an appointment with the doctor. I was wondering how to bring it up to her, seeing as it’s illegal and all. I felt like I was buying drugs, having to be covert and overt at the same time. When she asked what brings me here today, I told her that I’m pregnant. She clapped her hands. “Congratulations!” I chuckled nervously and didn’t respond.

I did another test. The fifth one. Positive again.

Her: Okay, we’ve confirmed that you’re pregnant. Will we be looking into prenatal care? Me: Not exactly… I wanted to know what my options are. It’s not a good time for me to have a child. I don’t even really want to be a mother. Her: I see. What does the father think? Me: He feels the same. Her: I understand. Before we can talk about your options, let’s see what’s going on down there.

She told me to get in the other room and undress from the waist down to do an ultrasound. I never imagined that I would be doing one of those. I couldn’t see much on the screen. It just looked like blobs. Or a Rorschach test. She told me I was at seven weeks. I put my clothes back on and we went back to the other room to talk.

She told me that since I wasn’t very far along, I could do a surgical abortion. She said that I had a few weeks to think about it, but try not to pass 13 weeks. I told her I didn’t need any time and asked for the next available appointment. It was the following Wednesday. She told me the procedure would cost $50,000.

I told my boss I would need Wednesday and Thursday off. I was pretty close to her. She was worried and kept asking if I was alright and what I needed the time for. Like, she was perfectly okay with me taking the time but she was concerned that something was wrong. I ended up telling her. She was supportive.

On Wednesday, I wore a dress that I now refer to as “the abortion dress” in my head whenever I wear it. A friend came with me, though we are no longer friends. People drift apart. That’s okay. I saw a girl who looked about 17 in the waiting room. She was there with her mom. I wondered if she was there for the same reason I was.

I got called into a room, but my friend wasn’t allowed to come with me. I removed my underwear, pulled the dress up to my waist and put my feet in the stirrups. The doctor sat in front of me and a nurse was to my side. I was told that my cervix would need to be injected and that it wouldn’t hurt. It did hurt. Next, she inserted the vacuum tube inside me and turned it on. I began crying. It was physically painful and emotionally overwhelming. The nurse hugged me. The whole thing lasted less than a minute, I think. When it was done, I asked if they could call my friend. She held me while I cried.

By this point, I was in excruciating pain. My uterus was contracting. It had expanded to hold the tiny fetus and now it was contracting. It subsided, but there was still a dull cramp. I finally got up and put my underwear back on. Morbidly, I looked in the sink and the trash can to see if I could see I’m not sure what.

It was over and I was glad. In pain, but glad. In all $78,000 was spent. $8000 for the initial visit, $50,000 for the procedure, $8000 for a follow-up visit and $12000 for medication - painkillers and antibiotics.

I found out I was pregnant on a Saturday and by the Wednesday, I wasn’t anymore. Those four days were the longest of my life. I felt like a parasite was inside me. I went about my days as normal while an existential crisis took place in my head. I have never felt anything but gratitude about my procedure. Gratitude because it was safe and accessible and that I had a choice. Gratitude because I had support. Gratitude because I was able to be in control of my destiny.

A week after the procedure, I received a package. It was a book. I opened the book and in between cut out pages was a tiny plastic bag filled with pills.

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [2/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: and so, the con begins! peter and gamora discuss the origins of their (fake) relationship, gamora has a girls’ night, and yondu has some tough love to give.  

word count: 4420 | total word count: 118k

a/n: the basic plot of guardians vol. 2 happened in this mashup universe of mine and is brought up in detail here, so spoilers if you haven’t seen it yet (but please go watch it, it’s an incredible movie).

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

To Gamora’s relief, everyone woke up at different times, avoiding any residual awkwardness from last night’s discussion. However, she hadn't counted on Nebula waiting to catch her right outside the shower.

“Nebula - I am in a towel - ”

“What is this nonsense I'm hearing about you and Quill?” Her pitch-black eyes seemed darker than usual. “Have you become too attached, sister?”

“Relax,” Gamora said, her own stomach tensing up. She really needed breakfast, not an interrogation. “It is part of the ploy for units.”

“Is that all?” Nebula said mockingly, an unsettling grin creeping across her face. “You have grown so fond of your Guardians, but Quill in particular has become a fixation of yours.”

“I consider him a friend,” Gamora said carefully. “A friend who I constantly threaten with a blade. Never a romantic prospect, no.” She sniffed, yanking her arm out of Nebula’s grip. “If you will excuse me, I need to get dressed. I have a lecture with the All-Father in thirty minutes, and I have no plans to get locked out of the Bifrost.”

As Peter ambled along the pathways of the Academy, occasionally pausing to twirl in time to his music, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him. He perked up. Could his moves finally be attracting some wanted attention?

“Star-Lord!” someone called. Ooh, a female voice. His head snapped up, a roguish grin plastered on his face as he removed his headphones, and unceremoniously found a microphone shoved into his face.

“Oh, it’s Patsy,” Peter said weakly, trying his best not to sound disappointed. Not that he wasn’t excited to see Hellcat - it was just that he wasn’t planning on getting ambushed for an interview today. He did his best to give her a charming wink and smile. “What can I do for you?”

She seemed unfazed by his switch in attitude. “Is it true that you and Gamora are dating?”

“I - what? How did...how did you hear about that?” Peter awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, wondering if this was a situation he could dance his way out of.

“Pepper informed me that the Guardians submitted their nomination forms this morning - in record time, by the way, I think the only other person more enthusiastic about this whole ordeal was Kamala - and noticed that you all put you and Gamora for Cutest Couple. Even Janet was surprised - she had no idea! What do you say to that?”

“Well.” Peter coughed, fumbling with the buttons on his Walkman. Dammit, he really should know by now how to escape a situation that didn’t welcome combat or his gun-slinging expertise. “Y’know, it’s something we’ve been wanting to tell people - so the ladies know I’m no longer available - but Gamora’s not a super PDA-y person. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to make it known.”

Patsy scoffed a little at Peter’s comment, but gave him a good-natured pat on the arm. “I’m happy for you two,” she said, a genuine warmth in her voice. “Oh, there she is now!”

“Wha - ” Peter spun to find Gamora practically sprinting towards him, her bookbag flying about behind her. He could practically hear the clatter of various knives rattling about inside. “Uh, hey, babe. You okay?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Gamora snapped, apparently not in the mood to play. “You were supposed to meet me at the Milano at 4 PM, remember?” She grabbed him by the bicep and dragged, putting on no pretense that she was going to even acknowledge Patsy’s presence.

“Uh - sorry - I can give you a full interview if you call me at - ” But Peter was gone.

Patsy turned towards the camera with a shrug. “Cheese and crackers,” she said, eyes wide. “That was interesting.”

______

Gamora stomped in silence all the way back to the ship, though Peter tried his best (and failed) to get her to talk. When they boarded the Milano, Peter moved towards the communal table, but Gamora clicked her tongue disapprovingly and pointed towards Peter’s bedroom door.

“Well, if you insist - ow!” Peter rubbed at his arm, holding up his hands in defeat. He ambled towards his room. “I’m sorry, Gamora, I totally lost track of time.”

To his surprise, she let out a defeated sigh, the tensing in her shoulders releasing as she followed him in and closed the door. “It’s okay. I just - we needed to talk about the details of this ruse of ours before we officially tell anyone else.”

“Well then maybe, we shouldn’t have submitted the forms so soon. Who did that, anyways?” Peter set his Walkman and headphones down on his bedside table, the quiet strains of Fooled Around and Fell in Love filling the room.

Gamora eyed the Walkman suspiciously as if it were about to bite before settling herself down at the foot of his bed. “My guess is Rocket intends to make this more difficult for us for...what was that phrase you used?”

“Shits and giggles.” Peter nodded seriously.

“That sounds like a disease,” Gamora informed him. “Regardless, we have to come up with a story, quick. I imagine people like Patsy and Janet will want to know how we started dating and for how long.”

Peter settled in next to her, the warmth of his body radiating heat through where their shoulders were touching. Gamora wondered if he was even aware of how close he was. She had never understood the need for tactile interaction until that night Peter had offered to show her one of his films from his childhood, their legs pressed together side-by-side as they had squished into his bed. Ever since then, he had gotten quite comfortable at sitting close to her or touching her arm to get her attention. It was different than the way she grabbed him out of urgency or heat-of-the-moment anger. It was...gentle. Comforting, even.

“Ha!” Peter’s sudden exclamation startled her out of her derailing train of thought. He was holding up his holo-tab to her face, showing her a picture of...was that Ego the Living Planet?

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked confusedly, though she reached for the tablet regardless.

“Four months ago, we...well, killed my dad.” Peter cleared his throat, suddenly sobering up from his unbridled joy. “It was an emotional moment, obviously. Led me to reflect on the people I had in my life and what they meant to me. Not to mention the most badass woman I know saved me from being used as a freaking battery for the next few millennia. So, after the battle was over, I told you I had a huge crush on you, and somehow, it turns out you felt the same way. We kissed, there was legit fireworks, and boom. Dating.”

Gamora stared at him for a moment before glancing back at the tablet. As requested by Director Fury, they had noted down every last detail of every mission into their reports (sometimes leaving things out to save their own asses, in all honesty. He didn’t need to know what Peter’s favour to Yondu was when they were doing a recovery mission on Contraxia). The most difficult mission the Guardians had taken on so far was bringing down Ego, as the other Academy students were too far away to call on for assistance, leaving them utterly alone. Although they were still apprehensive about their effectiveness as a team at the time, it was the realization that they were stronger as a family that had solidified their relationships with each other. Peter had been emotionally wrecked for at least a week afterwards, and even Rocket had left him alone to grieve for his mother all over again.

It was, in fact, the perfect plan. She could almost see Peter, in his melancholic, reflective state of mind, asking Gamora to meet him on the observation deck at midnight to tell her something important. Something he hadn’t really thought of before, but realized in the heat of the moment, in the seemingly endless void he had briefly been a part of as Ego had suspended him with “the light”. She could also imagine herself responding in kind, as the fight with Ego made her realize how important Peter was to her life, and the capacity in which she wanted to keep him there.

“That is...pretty smart, actually,” Gamora admitted, handing the tablet back. Peter pumped a fist in the air in victory. “It is short, to the point, and emotionally charged. I imagine Janet will cry when she hears it.”

“Exactly,” Peter nodded. “It doesn’t need extra details, it’s got death and tears and fireworks. It’s super romantic, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Gamora said quietly. Then she straightened up. “Four months then? Are there other things you think people will ask us about?”

“Knowing Janet? Everything,” Peter laughed. “She’s gonna dedicate like, fifty Instagram posts to us. Hashtag-relationship-goals.” He pulled up Janet’s blog. “What we do for dates, what our favourite things about each other are. I mean, we’re not just faking being a couple to fake being a couple, we have to be the cutest couple. Let’s start a list.”

“What do people usually do on dates?” Gamora asked, leaning over to scroll through the hundreds of posts Janet somehow had the time to make. “When you and I spend time together, it is usually combat training, studying, and missions.”

“We could say those are all forms of dates,” Peter said carefully. “Plus, y’know, listening to music. Watching movies.” His eyes widened so quickly that Gamora became briefly concerned they were to about to pop out of his skull. “I can tell people I got you to dance!”

“I thought we were trying to be realistic here, Quill,” Gamora said, narrowing her eyes at him. To her disappointment, that merely surprised a laugh out of him.

“Wait, are you really going to keep calling me Quill?” Peter said through his chuckles. “We have the opportunity for ridiculous pet names here.”

Gamora turned away in exasperation, only to find Peter’s room catching her attention in the process. She had only been in here a handful of times - Groot and Mantis tended to enjoy hanging out with Peter in here, whereas it seemed too intimate at times for her tastes - but he seemed to have decorated even more since the last time. His collection of 80s memorabilia was neatly laid out on the shelf above his headboard, a stark contrast to the haphazardness of the rest of his decor. Posters, stickers, photos, news clippings, all plastered along his walls, gifted to him from the other Terran students to help him catch up on their culture. The majority of the posters of attractive women, she suspected, were from Stark. On the wall locker Peter used to store his clothes, was that…?

“You have photos of us. The team,” she added hastily. Gamora remembered that day well - soon after being accepted into the Academy, Janet had taught the Guardians about social media and the importance of selfies. Peter was the only one who took interest, and managed to get a picture with each of his teammates. Drax was staring off at the wrong spot, Rocket was snarling at Peter, Groot was waving happily to the camera, Mantis was doing an awful impression of a smile, and in his photo with her…he was looking at Gamora instead of the camera, an odd expression on his face.

Next to that picture was an old, yellowed photo of Peter and his mother. Gamora had never seen it before, though she could recall the moments in which Peter described his mother and how beautiful she was, inside and out. She could definitely agree - blonde curls, bluer-than-blue eyes, and a sunny grin that positively radiated light. She was the light inside Quill, not Ego, Gamora thought to herself, turning back to look at him. “She is very pretty,” she said, gesturing at the picture.

“She was amazing,” Peter replied, smiling fondly. “I uh, don’t know if I ever told you guys this. My mom, she called me her little Star-Lord. I have a feeling she knew what my dad really was, since she told me I came from the stars.”

Gamora’s face softened. “That’s sweet. Although I suppose she would hate to know what your father’s true nature meant for you.”

Peter shrugged. “Not something I really want to dwell on. So, pet names? I’m a nickname kind of guy. I’ll probably just call you whatever pops into my head.”

“I call you Star-Lord sometimes, though mostly out of annoyance. It will not be a stretch for me to use it fondly as well,” Gamora suggested. “If people ask, I can explain its significance to your close relationship with your mother. I wish to honor her in our relationship by calling you that as well.”

He nodded, finally setting down the tablet. “Sure, sure. And uh, favourite things about each other? I can start.” Gamora nodded at him to continue. “Um. Okay. I think you’ve got really pretty hair. I admire how strong you are in battle, and how fiercely protective you are of your team and your sister. You’re also a freaking rockstar when you’re up on stage, even though we don’t have the same taste in music. And also, you’re secretly kind of funny. And nice.”

She felt herself gaping at him in shock, wondering how much of it was true. Gamora had expected him to make a lewd comment about her looks and a throwaway statement about her fighting prowess, not...this, this thoughtful, generous commentary on her as a person. Maybe Peter wasn’t such a hopeless case after all. “And how about me? Too many to count?” He grinned at her. Okay, never mind.

“You are the emotional centre of our group,” Gamora said carefully, staring down at the silver rings that adorned her fingers. She had no desire to put all her cards on the table. “You provide a breath of fresh air to our lives, especially when we have all suffered such hardships. I appreciate your ability to help us feel deserving of redemption.” She paused, letting her words sink in. She could practically feel Peter’s doe-eyed stare again. “You are also not terrible-looking.”

“Score,” Peter said, twirling a finger in the air as if to wave a flag. “I’m not terrible-looking!”

“Hush.” Gamora couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “You have a low standard for compliments, don’t you?” She stood, stretching, in hopes that the conversation could soon be over. She was starting to feel...things. “Public displays will not be initiated by you, only me. People expect me to be distant, and it will be more surprising - and romantic - to see me opting to hold your hand or kiss your cheek. Plus, I don’t want to run the risk of accidentally impaling you if you try to touch me.”

Peter wisely didn’t point out the fact he often grabbed her arm in public already, and nodded. “Smart. Maybe you should run strategy on the next mission.”

Gamora rolled her eyes as she opened the door. “I practically do anyways. Your ‘twelve-percent-of-a-plan’ business was getting old.” The door slid shut before he could protest.

______

Hours later, Gamora found herself standing outside Janet’s dorm room, her hand hovering over the door with a sense of hesitancy. Wasp often hosted “girls’ nights” and had invited the women of the Guardians, but Nebula had predictably said no, and Mantis had to remain on the Milano to look after Groot, who had thrown a tantrum for unknown reasons and required Mantis’s gentle care.

They will definitely ask me about Quill, Gamora thought resignedly. At least our story is straight. Time to campaign for Cutest Couple, starting now.

Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing the unimpressed face of one Natasha Romanoff. Gamora was slightly relieved, to be honest - Natasha was one of the few non-Guardian friends she had made here, as they shared more similarities than she expected. “Gamora,” she greeted monotonously, stepping aside to let her in.

Janet’s dorm room was enormous, having talked Fury’s ear off until she got an entire four-person bedroom to herself. Not that Janet was selfish, no, she just wanted space for sleepovers and get-togethers like this. Gamora suspected she would become better at negotiations than the Director himself someday. There was a garish amount of yellow everywhere, from the bedspread to the paintings of bees, flowers, and sunsets. It honestly hurt her eyes a little bit.

Upon glancing around the room, Gamora spotted Patsy, Kamala, Jessica Drew, Daisy, and strangely enough, Elektra. Was this secretly an assassin’s club meeting?

Janet burst out of her ensuite bathroom, inexplicably wearing a fluffy yellow feather boa and a straw sunhat. “Gamora, you came!” she said happily. “Oh good, now the party can really get started. Sit, sit.”

Gamora found herself squished between Natasha and Elektra, who was staring at her reflection in one of her sai. “Can we get started already? I’m bored. You won’t like me when I’m bored.” She swung her dark hair out of her face, nearly hitting Gamora in the eye, her multitude of silver bangles clacking away on her arm. “Matthew tells me I’m dangerous when I’m bored.”

“You’re dangerous all the time!” Janet said cheerfully, settling down on one of her enormous yellow beanbags and removing her extraneous accessories. “Alright, ladies. Let’s discuss who we wrote in for our nominations.”

“Is that what this is about? You promised me that Tony had new stingers ready,” Natasha said, frowning.

“Later.” Janet waved a dismissive hand. “Who wants to start? Kamala?”

“I have too many ships,” Kamala said sadly, looking down at the list she had copied out from her form. “It took longer than I expected. But I did write down Captain America and Captain Marvel for Cutest Couple, even though it’s not technically canon.”

“I understood about half of what you said,” Jessica said amusedly, picking at her nails.

“I don’t know if that nomination will count, but it’s a good effort.” Janet clapped her hands together. “What did everyone else put for Cutest Couple?”

“My sister and Luke, obviously,” Patsy grinned. “She adores him, even though she refuses to say it out loud.”

“I didn’t put anyone,” Jessica admitted. “I was more interested in the other categories.”

“Same,” Daisy said quietly, and Gamora felt a moment of pity for her. She seemed oddly distant from the entire student body, even in Gamora’s eyes. Janet had been trying to break her out of her shell since her arrival, but her efforts could only accomplish so much.

“Myself and Matthew.” Elektra tipped her chin forward as if to dare the others to question her. “We have had interesting dates on the roof of SHIELD HQ. You wouldn’t believe the gossip we hear sometimes.”

“Cap and Agent Carter,” Natasha volunteered reluctantly when Janet fixed her with a challenging stare. Wasp then turned to look at Gamora, who felt herself shriveling up inside.

“I wrote myself and my boyfriend,” Gamora said, the word tasting foreign on her tongue.

There was a sudden flurry of noise and movement as everyone leapt up in surprise. Gamora had to duck as Elektra nearly impaled her thigh with a dagger in alarm. A high-pitched shriek emanated from the other side of the room, and she wasn’t sure if it was Janet, Kamala, or both in an attempt to wake up the whole building.

“OTP!” Kamala squealed. “Ohmigosh, you and Peter, right?!”

“I - yes?” Gamora eyed the other girl suspiciously. “Do I want to know what OTP means?”

“You don’t,” Natasha said firmly, patting Gamora’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you and Quill were together.”

“It is something we recently decided to be truthful about,” Gamora said, twisting her rings absent-mindedly as she spoke. “I was apprehensive about making it public since I wasn’t sure if it would last, but I think we’ve proven to each other that we’re a good match.”

“How did it happen?” Daisy’s shy voice caused the rest of the group to fall silent in anticipation.

“Well, do you all remember the mission from about four months ago, when we had to defeat Ego the Living Planet?” Nods of scarily well-timed synchronicity. “Quill was forced to kill his father despite having searched for him his whole life. It took a toll on him, but it also led him to reflect on the people he cared about. Including me.” The words felt thick in Gamora’s throat, unlike the way Peter had first spoke them - with reverence, as if it was a real thing that had happened that he looked back on with fondness. “He asked if we could talk, the night we held a sort of funeral for his father, and confessed that he had a crush on me. I told him I felt the same way but had felt apprehensive about being in a romantic relationship up until that point.”

“And then?” Janet’s eyes were almost as big as Mantis’s at this point.

“And then he kissed me,” Gamora said with a sense of finality. More squealing followed. She cursed her body modifications for providing an enhanced sense of hearing. “We have been together since that night.”

“How sweet,” Jessica smiled encouragingly. “Quill does seem little bit of a...well. But I’m sure he’s a good boyfriend to you.”

“He does still flirt with many women here,” Gamora sighed. “At times, I wish he acted more loyal, the way that Cage does for Jones. Then again, it’s nice to know every Terran doesn’t behave like Star-Lord.”

Janet emitted another high-pitched noise that left Gamora questioning whether she should have been nicknamed after a bat instead of a wasp. “You call him Star-Lord, like, all the time. You must love him a lot.”

Gamora froze. “I think it’s too early for that,” she said nervously. “But it’s the nickname given to him by his mother, so I thought I would honor her by continuing to call him that.”

“And what kind of things do you two get up to?” Elektra purred almost seductively, leaning in far too close for Gamora’s comfort.

“He likes to show me movies from his childhood,” Gamora said, eliciting an “aww” from Janet, Kamala, and Jessica. “I think it brings him joy to share his culture with me, even if I don’t always understand it.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Elektra said, wiggling her eyebrows dangerously.

“Leave her alone,” Natasha said, reaching around to shove at Elektra’s shoulder. “Not everyone wants to share those kinds of details.”

Elektra shrugged nonchalantly. “Life’s more fun on the edge, dear Widow. Are you telling me that the most dangerous woman in the galaxy wouldn’t be up to no good with her boyfriend?”

“We’re taking it slow,” Gamora interrupted before unnecessary bloodshed could occur, shooting Natasha what she hoped was a grateful look. “I think I’d like to stop talking about this now.”

“Agreed. No further questions,” Patsy piped up. “Who did everyone put for Nicest Abs, because honestly…”

_______

Peter yawned, rubbing at his sleep-weary eyes as he made his way down from the cockpit to the main deck of the Milano. He had managed to fix the nav system without Rocket’s help, but the ship still hadn’t quite recovered from yesterday’s literal crash-and-burn. If Rocket would finally stop arguing with Stark over who was the better engineer, Peter might finally be able to ask him for his help for stuff like this.

“Well, I’ll be.” Peter nearly jumped three feet in the air at the sound of Yondu’s voice. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, holding Peter’s holo-tab in one hand and an apple in the other. “You finally tell Gamora how you feel?”

“Shut up,” Peter exclaimed, darting forward to snatch the tablet back. It was open to Janet’s Instagram page, where she had posted a selfie of her and the other girls with the caption “#girlsnight is buzzing! Gamora’s giving us the latest scoop about her love life and I am atwitter! #besties #cute #squadgoals”.

“You’ve had a crush on her for how long now?” Yondu grinned, baring his rather awful teeth. “Ain’t never seen you been this excited over one girl before. And you finally got your act together.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just pretending to be dating so we can win the prize money from Wasp’s yearbook thing. You were there when we decided!” Peter exclaimed. “Gamora went to girls’ night so she could establish a story.”

“Come on, now, boy.” Yondu snorted, hopping off the counter with a crunch of his boots. Peter winced, he didn’t want to know what was in there. “You’ve been soft on her since the beginning. S’okay. You’re a Guardian now, after all. If you were a Ravager still, might be a different story.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter glanced down at the picture, letting his eyes linger on Gamora’s half-smile for a moment before closing out of the browser window.

Yondu shrugged, tossing his apple back and forth in his hands, nonchalant. “The code, Quill. Can’t have a Ravager moping after a woman for too long, or he ain’t have his head in the game for thievin’.”

“I’m not moping!” Peter flailed his arms around aimlessly. “I’ve got plenty of other things to deal with - the broken ship, the lack of money, school. Gamora’s important to me and all, but not like that.”

“You keep lying to yourself, boy.” Yondu’s steps echoed as his boots clanged about on the metal walkway of the ship. “Don’t come cryin’ to me if you’ve got a broken heart at the end of all this.”

Peter, for once, was speechless. He had no snarky comment to throw at Yondu’s back. Instead, he opted to settle down on the couch and open up Janet’s Instagram account again, staring at the photo posted about an hour ago. The girls appeared to be doing some sort of mud mask, with varying success. Gamora had smeared hers on like warrior paint, emphasizing the silver markings on her face. Her smile, though rather half-hearted, left Peter smiling back. She was kind of adorable when she showed her gentler side, though Peter enjoyed her deadly nature with equal admiration.

Yes, being Gamora’s fake boyfriend could hardly result in anything going south, could it?

a/n: i love my guardians kids but i have a soft spot for avac!janet so she’s probably one of the more prominent “background” characters. also i don’t know if this happened for anyone else, but i hear “score, i’m not terrible-looking!” in andy dwyer’s voice moreso than peter’s haha

[lilithreposeinshadow-blog]

I have a dark side

Fuck. 

Seriously, fuck.

Getting my words out, getting them out there, being heard. It’s this itch that has to be scratched. My journal wont do it. My facebook is the wrong format. I’m not here to bring anyone down, but fuck I am not happy all the time and I don’t know where to put all of those other feelings.

I live in the mountains. Well, in the valley of granite cliffs. They surround me and thieve the horizon. Every close friend/confidant I have lives in another state.. the ones I make out here keep leaving, either this place or my life. 

Even when close ones are near and available, my thoughts and feelings spin and swirl so much that I feel like it is too much for them to take on. And that’s at no fault of their own, it’s not a fault of mine either. It’s the role of the therapist that I need. And I had, back in Philly. 

Therapy was expensive, but I loved my therapist, I miss him.  He was fucking handsome, which hurt. I had never felt more heard and understood by a man, a handsome, young, amazing man, who I absolutely could not have. When I was depressed, that was pretty hard. I probably should have found a different therapist. He was so damn good though. 

I feel a lot. I feel a lot of conflicting feelings. I feel one way one day, and the next quite the opposite. I feel at peace, then incredibly impatient. My spirit wants to rip out of me, longing for whatever it is I’m longing for... and either the pressure is too much and I turn to it, or something else, for relief... or somehow it softens. 

My feelings come and go in phases. For weeks I’ll be stuck in a thought, stuck in anger, stuck in desire, stuck in frustration, suck in anxiety. Then, life will happen, things open up, and my heart shifts. 

Right now.... right now I’m mad. I’m angry. I’m angry at men. 

I’m angry at men and then I’m angry at myself.  Dating is a trip, and I don’t think I handle it well.

I had a boyfriend in high school for over two years. He was my rock. We were Christian and were going to be abstinent, but then I suggested we try sex. 

We had been fooling around for a good while, and enjoyed each other. Growing up in the South, my sexual education was shaming and frightening. It wasn’t until I had a friend who had sex, and enjoyed it, and wasn’t upset or depressed or mad or sad - that I was like, hey, J, let’s do this! 

And we did. And it was okay. Short. Sweet. Short. Scary. We only did it a few times, and we both felt so afraid of being caught, or pregnant, or judged, that we stopped. I suggested we stop. J was really good to me. 

Then I left him. And I don’t think I’ve been honored or resepected the same way since. 

Yeah, we were in high school, and no I don’t think he and I would have been the right match long term... but who knows? He wont befriend me, I’ve tried. 

What I’m getting at here is sex.

Since then I’ve had a good handful of partners. Casual partners, romantic partners, passionate partners, regrettable partners. It’s been a mess, honestly.

I didn’t have sex from the time I was 17 until I was 19, close to 20. I was afraid of it, I was in a new city and didn’t have people, and I just didn’t need it.  But then I had my next bf, and he taught me how sexually attractive I am. See, I’m a skinny girl, and the media makes young girls think it’s good to be skinny, but damn if your tits are THAT small, yeah... you might wanna fix that at some point. I thought I needed curves and cleavage and definitely not be so bony. 

Turns out, what I’ve got going on, plenty of people like. And that’s likely true for every body type. And I’m grateful to the second boyfriend, who showed me the real ropes with sex, and who improved my confidence tremendously.  That relationship wasn’t... the best? It wasn’t awful but there was definitely some belittling and shaming and guilting and crap that eventually I got myself out of. 

The community I found were partiers. They were fun/are. They are wonderful people who I have so much love for. But what’s valued there is sex, drugs, music, dancing, self expression, and fun. Yes they help each other out, but not always. And fuck, if you bring up sad or too real shit at a party, gtfo.  And a lot of times, it was hard to see any of them if I weren’t at a party... So... When can I lean on you, friend? When is it my turn to cry in your arms? Why is it I will drop anything to hold you in this room while everyone is partying, but when I bring up real shit in my life, people just turn away, tell me not to worry about, tell me it’s not the right time.

When is the right time to be heard? 

When?

So I’m angry. Yeah, I’m angry at men. 

When I was with that second boyfriend, and he was showing me the ropes sexually, I remember thinking, “I’m gunna get really good at this.” And I did. I’m a great lay. I’m sexy. I’m freaking hot in bed. I’m a tease, I know all the good spots and good ways. I’m hot. And men really like it. Like, a lot.

My sexuality is my honey. I draw men in with my smile and my flirting, then, when the time is right, I show off my talents and I dazzle. And then they’re hooked. They want more, and I get what I was hoping for. Some attention, some affection, some intamacy.

But, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, it doesn’t last. It just DOESN’T. 

I give myself, my whole entire self. I look in your eyes and I flatter you with kisses and compliments, favors and gifts. I flutter around, catching your eye... and then you wonder. Your gaze drifts, your attention shifts. 

I can feel it, okay? I really do feel it as soon as that shift happens. It’s like an iceberg that breaks and slides a part, and hundreds of miles away, the wave of it passes over my feet, and I just know. It’s not a normal wave like the ones before and after, that was a shift. That was a change.

And then there I go. I can’t help myself. I bring it to attention, I say, hey, what was that? Where did you go? Where is your heart now?  And it’s too much.  I’m too much. I want too much. I expect too much.

These men, these climbers. These men. Like I said before, I am mad at them, but then I’m mad at me.  I’m mad at myself because I know it will be. I see it coming for miles, I can see through them. I know the men I find most attractive are unavailable. They’re explorers, adventurers, travelers. They’re climbers and fire fighters and rangers. They’re seasonal, they’re just coming through, they don’t live near by.  I know it’s all fucking doomed, but my dreamer heart catches me. 

They’re so damn handsome is the problem. Or something.

I look at them, all those different men I’ve let myself get attached to know have no intention of being a real partner to me, and I see their tenderness and they show me a piece of their heart. 

See, that’s what the honey does. It’s so sweet and lovely that it opens you up. I get a peek of what’s underneath and I think that’s also the problem, they aren’t ready. 

I am intimate. I am deep, I am raw. Sexually, that is exciting. But what happens during sex doesn’t stay in the bedroom. Intimacy is made, yet there’s no foundation there. There’s nothing to hold it. It’s like this beautiful orchid, suspended, it’s roots reaching down and out, with nothing to sink into. It’s going to fall, and it will absolutely be damaged after it does.

I get mad at myself because I see this cycle so clearly, yet I’ve failed many times at avoiding it. 

My hair stylist in Philly is a semi-mentor to me in my mind, and she once told me “just don’t have sex with them, it confuses things and it always makes it harder to see things as they are”. That was over three years ago and I wish I had started listening to her right away.  I’ve had a lot of fun with men in bed since then, but I’ve been hurt. A lot.

Why am I angry with men? 

Because they don’t want me!

They don’t want the real me. They fucking don’t. 

I’m damaged, dude. Like for fucking real. I’ve been through some fucked up shit and just because I’m on the other side of it, just because my childhood is over, does not mean I’m not still completely baffled and destroyed by some of those events. I don’t even understand how what things affect me in which ways, but I see it, I see my trauma creep into my thinking and behavior and I don’t always have the wisdom and strength to rise above it. 

I have a dark side. 

I am so angry at quite a couple of people right now. People who have left me, who I feel abandoned by. Shut out, left behind, completely discarded. And see, this is where this all comes together. I was neglected, like legit, when I was a baby and young child. Physically, mentally, and emotionally neglected. I am only alive today because of my siblings.

Straight up I would have starved or died of disease or accident had they not been there. Thank God they were.

So. Abandonment issues. Check. Yep. Got ‘em. 

So when you fuck me until you come, and then don’t even bother texting me the next day, no THAT DOESN’T SIT WELL WITH ME. 

No, I am not that chill.

Fuck you for not calling, for not wanting to hear my voice, my stories, my jokes.

Fuck you for fucking me after Christmas, then breaking up with me two days later. Fuck you for buying me a child sized fucking climbing helmet. Fuck you for giving me a framed photo of us. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

Fuck you for being so fucking appreciative of tiny wonderful things about me, then so casually exiting my life. Fuck you for just dropping me like that, so easily. Who the fuck are you? How... how how how do you do that?

Fuck. You. 

But... fuck me, right? Because I knew. I knew they would do this. I have no fucking faith in the decency of men.

Besides me therapist.

But he’s off fucking limits. smh. (thanks for that, God. What a tease.)

So what do I do? 

How do I exit this cycle and start receiving the kind of love and support I offer up so easily to men who enter me and my life... 

Is it really as simple as closing my legs? 

I’ve thought about and tried to “take it slow” and “wait” with a guy... but that’s never lasted longer than like three or four dates MAX. 

I have desire. I am sexual. I like pleasing, but I’m starting to realize I like pleasing so much partially because as it’s happening, I feel like I’m gaining some kind of ground with the partner. Like, “Oh yay, he likes how I suck his dick, this must mean he’ll like me more in general”... sad. But so fucking true. And does anyone talk about this? 

Do the women amongst me who are also living in this hook-up culture see things this way at all? Do they struggle with this perdiciment? 

I want to be deisred, but I also want to be valued. I want to be fallen for, not just fucked and left. But the latter is what happens. It really is. Maybe the former is a myth. That’s what I keep thinking, it must be bullshit.

But then I see it, I see people who genuinely care for each other. What I notice, what catches my eye, is when I see men. Men doing those things for their partner that I’d do any day for mine. Grabbing a milkshake for them to bring back to the girl, where she’s chilling. Or taking time away from adventures to spend quality time with their partner because they WANT TO. Or families who are actually staying together. My sister in law, who always goes to my brother’s appointments with him, and the other way around.  I can’t fathom that kind of love, that kind of support. 

My dad travels for work and my step mom never did a thing for us without making it known she’d prefer not to be. Every appointment, meeting, car ride, meal, phone call.. it was a chore she hated. I didn’t join teams or clubs because I didn’t want to have to ask her to give me a ride. Not being dramatic, it was just that way. 

So here I am in the dating world, longing to be cared for and treated with sweetness, but not knowing at all what’s reasonable or fair. Not having any reference point as to what I should expect or deserve. 

There are moments, when I’m held close by a lover, or given just the right compliment, when I feel secure. I feel supported. I feel wanted. And then...

poof.

Gone. In the blink of an eye it’s over and it’s gone and I’m wondering how I ever let myself feel safe. I was lying to myself, I know that. I was lying about how I knew they felt about me. I knew they didn’t know me. I knew I’d scare them off. And I did. I do. 

So damn, is that it? Do I just need to stop having sex with these men?  Is it better to be alone, sexless, and alone, than to be used and tossed out? 

That sounds like a dumb question when you put it that way, it really does. 

Yeah I’d rather be alone than feel just as gross as the used condom you just pulled off your dick does. 

So fuck it, I’m done fucking. 

I doubt I’ll get any closer to finding a partner, bc again my faith in men is so fucking slim, but hey... maybe I’ll feel less used.