nostalgiabomb: (001)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-27 09:56 pm (UTC)(link)
I'll show you later. And afterwards, we can paint our nails and talk about boys.
nostalgiabomb: (031)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
Would they? Well, guess they're just not as progressive as I am.

Or, we could talk about me. There's an option.
nostalgiabomb: (026)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 12:17 am (UTC)(link)
Wow. You make it sound like I don't have anything interesting going on.

[ At which point he flops back onto the bed. ]
nostalgiabomb: (038)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
Well-- okay, not right now. Doesn't mean I still don't have anything interesting to talk about.
nostalgiabomb: (003)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 03:07 am (UTC)(link)
Good ones, not interesting ones. Like, I'm pretty sure I haven't told you anything from when I was between the ages of-- [ He thinks back, then-- ]

Twelve and thirty?
nostalgiabomb: (-069)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ He gives a thoughtful hum, folding his hands over his stomach. ]

Have I ever told you how I got my helmet?
nostalgiabomb: (-147)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 03:47 am (UTC)(link)
Well, you're in for a treat.

So. You know how Terrans are like, barely a thing out at the ass-end of the galaxy? It's, like, one of the biggest things I had to deal with growing up. Like, "Oh, a Terran, I heard they taste just like bandersnatches" or whatever. Dozens of people always wantin' to eat me.

Anyway. When I was nineteen, I got into this fight at a bar. Hit on the wrong chick, her boyfriend shows up, blah, blah, blah. Ended up with a bunch of popped blood vessels in my eye and a shitton of bruises and cuts on my face.

The next day, Yondu and I were supposed to meet with some buyer to figure out payment. Papa Smurf wanted me to there to learn the ropes or something. 'Fore they could even start talking shop, the guy takes one look at me, sees that I've got ruby-red Terran blood, and asks, "How much?" Guess he thought Yondu had brought me there to sell as a snack? And even after Yondu told the dude I wasn't on the table, the guy kept staring at me, kept interruptin' their talks to make offers.

Then the guy says this ridiculously fucking huge number of units, and Yondu goes dead silent. Seriously fuckin' freaked me out, 'cause Yondu's all about profit. I totally thought he was gonna take the guy up on it, but then all of a sudden Yondu flips the table in the guy's face, grabs me by the collar, and storms the fuck out.

Week later, Yondu gives me the little trigger. [ Peter gestures to it. ] Tells me that I'm only allowed to meet new clients with him if I'm wearin' this. And the rest is history.
nostalgiabomb: (004)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
I mean, not exactly? I always look delicious, after all. Really no helping it.
nostalgiabomb: (051)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 04:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ He snorts derisively, glancing up at the ceiling. ]

Yeah, sure. "Interesting." That's one way of puttin' it.
nostalgiabomb: (111)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-28 04:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ Flatly, ] Fucked up.
nostalgiabomb: (130)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2015-01-29 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
[ He can't really help the bitterness in his voice: ] I mean, on the one hand, he didn't. So, you know, point in his favor.

On the other hand, he sort of kidnapped me, never told me why, and, hey. Space bum for the next twenty-six years.

So. [ Peter shrugs. ] Complicated.