makingthisupasigo | And the stars look very different today...

It was a way out. But it wasn't home.

Truthfully, after Norfinbury, anything would be better than that place, but the cold truth was--there was no way to find his own universe out of the endless multiverse, even if Norfinbury's busted technology had worked properly. He was stuck, here, with a megalomaniac Flynn--granted, a Flynn that managed to open up a portal out of there. Maybe that's what it took to get out of Norfinbury.

Or, Peter thought sometimes on bad days, Norfinbury only released you once you became the twisted version of yourself it wanted you to be. A specially-designed virus inflicted on countless worlds.

Besides, he ought to know something about that.

He didn't stay long on earth, he couldn't. Maybe it had something to do with the mystery of how they were revived in Norfinbury, their bodies recreated or cloned or healed, or maybe it was something that was gonna happen to him anyway, but he could feel the Light burning inside him, inside his head almost as soon as he landed. A desperate need to take to the stars. He'd managed to create a ship and took off.

Time passes, and scientists notice something odd about several exoplanets they're monitoring, especially ones marked as 'earth-like' or other planets in zones that could make them potentially habitable. Bright bursts of light and changes in the composition of the atmosphere or surface, it was inexplicable. Possible evidence of intelligent life? If they didn't know any better, especially with the rocky planets that now somehow boasted extreme changes, it was like something was terraforming them.

There was cause for alarm when Mars suddenly turned blue and green a few months later.

Meanwhile, a small blue-and-orange ship that looked suspiciously like a slightly more organic-looking Milano was racing towards the earth.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's really not that bad. Just check your boots before you put them on and beware of the drop bears."

He sits, picking up some of the magazines, turning them in his hands. It's hard to believe they are not supposed to be real.

"Nah. It's more like... I take what's already there and tweak and modify it. Bring it into the 21st century. I could probably build something that emulates your molecular manipulation but it wouldn't come from me, you see?"

"...because of spiders and snakes?" That sounds terrifying. "What's a drop bear?"

He's just going to imagine the terrifying place that Australia must be for a moment, as he tries to figure out what Jones means by that.

"So you use magic and technology together, without like...summoning the magic by yourself?"

With a very serious expression, "You don't wanna know."

He smirks. "Exactly like that. And I kind of improve it along the way. You know. Make it modern, 21st century-ish."

"Wow. Okay, yeah, maybe I don't wanna know." If it was that bad? He hopes he never sees a drop bear, ever.

"That is actually like, really cool?" he sounds genuinely stoked. "What's some of the things you can do? That's almost like being a wizard, but like, a techno-wizard!"

"It's like a koala but it attacks people from above and it is vicious and merciless." The more you know!

"Techno-wizard? I like that. Why don't the others ever call me that? I absolutely am a techno-wizard."

"An evil koala? That sounds wicked cool." And terrifying. He feels so knowledgeable now!

"Dude, and I bet you could have your own theme song? I'm thinking something like the Neverending Story meets Led Zeppelin."

He absolutely wouldn't mind a theme song. But please, something more modern maybe.

"Led Zeppelin? Isn't that old people music? Maybe we could do a remix. I demand at least one dubstep bass drop somewhere towards the end."

You just killed him, bro.

Peter Quill, immortal Celestial, has just died of sheer shock.

He looks genuinely stricken, and can't speak for a moment, and has to hold onto a chair to make sure he doesn't just straight-out fall over.

"Dude. DUDE. Old people music? Come on. The hell is dubstep?"

"Well, it is. That's the kind of stuff you find in vinyl boxes at garage sales when old people get rid of their stuff. We need a more modern sound. I'd play it for you but I don't have my music player."

Or, you know.

Anything personal. Thanks Flynn.

"Uh, no, it's not, and boxes of music is amazing no matter how old--which they're not old--they are!?" He's still holding onto that chair, and gesturing wildly.

"I have music players. A Walkman and a Zune." Because he had to recreate his Walkman, of course.

"Yeah, but that won't do. I mean, maybe if you want to go down the hipster road but other than that? Why don't I just hook us up to a server and get some terabytes of music in here?"

Or, you know. Start working on getting out of here.

And the stars look very different today...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject