rusty rocket

(Spoilers for GotG 2)

Collection of random headcanon-snippets between the new-and-old Guardians:

 

The Guardians trying really well to behave, until Peter, for whatever reason, gets the absolutely brilliant idea to show Mantis how to steal stuff (“That could be useful for her one day!”). Immediately, Groot insists to tag along because he is old enough to learn, Drax feels compelled to learn, too (“Drax, you’re not stealthy, that’s not a good idea… ah, forget it.”) and Rocket helps out with tips himself.

Gamora stays behind, pressing a hand to her forehead because she just knows that this will end in big, big trouble. When Kraglin sniggers, just a quick short thing, the sound dimmed as if he is trying to smother it, she shoots him a look.

He catches the glance and cracks a smile. “What?”

“I’m blaming Peter’s upraising for this.”

“So… me?”

“You, too,” Gamora tries her best to stay serious, but the way the other’s eyes crinkle in silent laughter and flash with barely withheld pride and amusement makes her want to smile, too. “And you’re not even sorry for it.”

“Nope.” 

(They end up running, yelling at each other as they flee, laughing in between as they stumble and help each other up again and Gamora grumbles half-heartedly that she knew this would happen, and Kraglin teases Peter about getting rusty at stealing, and Rocket insists they should go back and fight, that would be fun – it’s an absolute mess, and they are having the time of their lives.)


 

The Guardians being in the middle of a situation that requires Rocket’s help, and Rocket being like, “No, no, you said I have to lay low, I’m doing just that now-…”

“Rocket,” Peter says absolutely calm, smiling as if they aren’t in the middle of a tricky situation, “Wanna blow up some stuff?”

“… Are you serious?” Rocket squints at him, suspicious, before he turns to the others. “Is he serious?”

“I fear he is.”

“’e’s being completely serious.”

Rocket looks from the others to Peter and back, before he starts smiling, all glinting teeth and snarl packed into a crazy joyous grin. “Oh yeah, now we’re talking, Star Munch!”

“I’m probably going to regret that,” Peter says to no one in particular as they fling themselves into it, uncoordinated but efficient as ever.

 

Perter and Kraglin end up getting so drunk one night, reminiscing on their lost family members, that they sleep curled up on the floor, waking up with one hell of a hangover the next day.

It’s only made worse by Gamora popping her head into the room to tell them that “Rocket is building a bomb at the kitchen table again, and he isn’t listening to me.

Peter groans and kicks Kraglin in the shin to get his attention, hearing a mournful grunt for his work „Kraglin, go stop him“

“It’s yer crazy friend, ye go stop ‘im,” comes the mumble reply, Kralgin’s forearm still firmly pressed over his eyes to shield out the light.

“I’m your Capt’n…” 

“I regret that.“

Another kick. “…you have to do as I say, that’s how this works.”

“Ain’t anything workin’ as long as I feel ready to throw up.”

Peter grunts, kicks a third time – Kraglin kicks back – and rolls to his stomach to get up. Somebody has to keep the ship from blowing up, after all.

He still has the glorious idea to grip the older’s ankles and drag him along the ground as he marches out of the room, earning loud cussing and multiple kicks for that.


 

All of the Guardians being completely exhausted because teenage-Groot is just not listening to anyone, and Rocket, at the end of his rope, grumbles, “How long does it take until children are finally grown up?!”

“In Pete’s case?” Kraglin asks, tipping his head back tiredly to look at the other. “Twenty-six years or so, an’ still countin’”

“Oh harr, harr, Kraggles, really,” Peter half-heartedly throws something in the other’s direction, but he’s grinning himself while everyone else bursts out laughing, immediately feeling better.  


Mantis is so excited about everything and anything in the universe that she somehow managed to get into trouble with people who didn’t like to be all but clung to by the bug-girl just because she wanted to see how different species’ emotions feel to her as an empath. Mantis is really bummed out because they had gotten into a shouting match with those people – Peter yelling back at them, Rocket snarling and Drax ready to start a fist-fight – and she feels like it’s her fault.

It’s weighing all of them down to see Mantis so sad, until Groot has the brilliant idea – “I am Groot!”

“What?!” Rocket snaps, head whirling so fast his spine makes a cracking sound. “No. No way in friggin’ hell!”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Peter ponders, holding up his hands in defense when Rocket snarls at him. “It is!”

“It ain’t!”

“It-…”

“You shut up or I bite you!”

“Rocket. It’s for Mantis. Look at her.

“…Harumph.”

“You know, I think she’s crying.”

“…”

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, I totally agree with you Groot, she is crying.”

“Oh fine! But you all owe me!”

And Rocket slinks over to Mantis, gruffly and grumbling telling her that she can pet his fur if she wants to. Only a bit though! And only until she’s better!

Mantis squeals in happiness when she realizes it’s for real and she ends up not only petting, but also brushing Rocket’s fur with a brush that Gamora brought her. Groot happily joins, musing Rocket’s fur, and Drax sits next to them, petting the raccoon’s head from time to time, and somehow, miraculously, all of the Guardians end up close by, listening to music or just resting, lazy banter traveling from one side to the other, all of them absentmindedly petting the raccoon once or twice – at least.

Rocket doesn’t bite them. He even stops complaining a while in.

He wouldn’t tell them that it’s actually nice, though.

names for sims!

Hey, folks! I saw some other simblrs (i wish i remembered who so i could give credit ;_;) making lists of names for sims so I thought that would be fun to do too! They’re an odd (and some normal) bunch of names that you can use for all sims! Click “keep reading” to see names. I just didn’t want to take up your whole dashboard (it’s super long, sorry)!

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I Want You Back (Star-Lord Reader Insert)

Based on “I Want You Back” by Jackson 5

From the very start you knew Peter Quill was bad news. You knew everything he’d say to you would be a lie. You knew he would break your heart. But you also knew that you were naïve and unable to control the overpowering hope that maybe you’d be the one special enough to change his playboy-ish ways. After all, how could you not believe that the two of you had a future? He let you stay on the ship. He’d smile at you fondly when you entered a room, and he was forever playfully tousling your hair or sneaking up behind you to give you a flirtatious nip on the neck. And more importantly, he did these things to you and only you. Or so you thought. It was easy for a guy as charming as himself to trick you into thinking these simple little actions were signs of true love.

You hated yourself for being so foolish. Hair tousling and brief mouth to neck contact were hardly affectionate acts, and the way he so carefully avoided you when the others were around certainly should’ve been an immediate red flag. Dates were rare and normally consisted of nothing more than a trip to a bar or nighttime strolls whenever you ended up on a pretty planet. But the way he’d gently hold your hand or pull you close as he snaked his arm around your waist was enough to masquerade that his romantic gestures were more obligatory than anything else. But there were other things he’d do now and then that made it even more difficult to believe that you were nothing but a toy. He seemed to be actually interested in what you had to say as you answered the questions he’d ask you about yourself. He’d whisper soft compliments in your ear as you lay under the stars. He’d hold you every night after you let him fuck you in the most degrading of ways. And then one day it happened. The thing that you’d dreaded from the start of…whatever the two of you were.

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The crew of Apollo 9.  Left to right, are Russell L. Schweickart, lunar module pilot; David R. Scott, command module pilot; and James A. McDivitt, commander.

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2

We’re dinoflag-elated to meet you! Our Kelp Forest exhibit is still blooming with Akashiwo sanguinae phytoplankton. The Mountain Dew hue of the water is caused by trillions of single-celled algae—each one half the width of a human hair. These blooms have happened at the Aquarium before—in fact, a similar event nearly derailed the filming of Star Trek IV!

One of these ridiculously tiny rusty rocket-ships was photographed by our water quality specialists under a microscope. Every day, our collective of cool chemists characterizes the aquatic makeup of the Aquarium to keep our critters content. So far, this bloom is just a novelty inside our building—but in the wild, these blooms can create a sea foam that acts like a detergent to the water-proofing oils of bird feathers.

This beautiful bloom is a reminder to all of us human-scale beings that over 60% of the oxygen we breathe is produced by ocean organisms on the same scale—and smaller—as this particularly imposing phytoplankter. Green food dye for thought! 

Monday Blues

Rusty always hated Mondays. Well, everyone hated them really, but there was just something about them that sucked. Monday was her least busy day in an otherwise ‘okay’ schedule, but she still didn’t like it. Mostly because the classes that she had interfered with high tide, when the waves were the biggest and the best to ride. Being from the South, there weren’t many opportunities for her to surf out there, so she took every chance she got out here in California. Sometimes that meant breaking curfew so she could catch a few waves. 

Her next door neighbor, Johnny, had caught her on multiple occasions sneaking out of the hall well past curfew. He would tell her that it wasn’t right, and that she’d get in trouble, but Rusty never gave heed to his warnings, but simply brushed them off. She’d been doing this since she got to Berkeley, and she hadn’t been caught thus far. Why break the record? 

Even though he was a goody two shoes, he was smart and was top of the class in every class that they had together. Now Rusty wasn’t dumb in any sense of the word, she just found herself drifting off during class, missing some of the important things that she needed to know. to be honest, she would rather be out in the waves instead of nose deep in a text book about geology. 

Take now for example. Rusty was sitting at her desk, tapping a pen against her temple as she read, and reread a paragraph about something that was happening in the past. It was bad enough that she was sacrificing her time in the water to study, but she was studying History, a subject that she loathed. Her roommate, Margo, was off studying in the library, so it wasn’t like she could ask her for help. 

Looking up from the textbook, Rusty glanced at the open window and saw the ocean off in the distance. If this wasn’t finals, she’ be all over the idea of just ditching and splashing around. But school called. 

Slipping her hand under her text book, she pulled her headphones out and stood up. Rusty walked out of her dorm room, and walked the few feet to the one next to her and knocked on the door before opening it up. “Afternoon Johnny rocket!” Rusty said, plopping down onto his bed before crossing one leg over the other. “Would you be a life saver and help me out a little? I’m drowning in history, when I’d rather be drowning in warm sand and surfboard wax.” Her green blue eyes flicked up to look at him, and she gave him her best smile she could. “Pleaseee? I’ll buy you dinner?” She singsonged the compromise and wiggled her shoulders a little. “It’s a fair trade, I think."