Peter Jason Quill
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| Nicknames: | Pete | Codename: | Star-Lord |
| Age: | 40 | Species: | Terran/Celestial |
| Sexual Orientation: | Pansexual | Romantic Orientation: | Panromantic |
| Face Claim: | Chris Pratt | Writer: | Kitty |
Personality:
Peter Quill used to be a sweet little boy. He’d wade into fights to defend small, innocent animals from other kids…and honestly, sometimes it seems like he hasn’t changed much. When people first meet him, he seems like a big-headed, flirtatious idiot. It’s not totally true, and there are so, so many people out there who’ve underestimated Quill and woken up to find their fancy jewellery gone and their accounts emptied of units.
Truth is, Peter knows what he’s doing. 83% of the time. Roughly. The other 17% is someone else’s fault. He sings loud and loves fiercely, and his shitty childhood couldn’t beat either of those things out of him.
That said, he is far less relaxed and happy-go-lucky than he used to be.
The galaxy will not ever let him catch a break when it comes to traumatising stuff, and he’s become more jaded and cynical since the events of Infinity War/Endgame.
He’s not easy to like, sometimes. His public face is a veneer of brash confidence, but there’s a soft heart held together with duct tape and stubbornness in there.
There’s another side of him, though, that very few people ever have the misfortune of seeing. The side of him that instantly shot Ego over and over for what he did to Peter’s Mom. He is not just a pretty face with a song in his heart and a pre-prepared quip. He will kill you, if you’re being an asshole.
Appearance:
Peter looks pretty damn cool, if he does say so himself. No matter what bullshit Rocket says about too many sandwiches - or whatever - he lifts. He’s ripped as hell. And he’s got cool scars with a load of different bar stories to tell about ‘em. He’s about 6 foot 2, although it’s not like anyone’s got out a tape measure recently. He’s tall. That’s good enough. He’s got a badass leather jacket, and rocket boots! Did he mention the rocket boots? And the quad blasters! And the mask! Man, there must be loads of posters out of him out there. He’s the coolest dude ever.
Powers & Abilities:
Superhuman durability: Although his Celestial abilities are gone, his hybrid genetics still make him hardier than the average human. He can get thrown around by aliens twice his size without breaking bones, and has survived things that a normal human would never be able to handle. He gets sick and injured like anyone else, but is more likely to come out of it unscathed.
Master Tactician: Quill looks like an idiot sometimes, but that’s what he wants you to think. Underestimating him has got a whole load of guys arrested or dead before now. He’s always got at least 12% of a plan, and that percentage can increase pretty damn rapidly when need be.
Skilled Marksman and Pilot: He’s been flying and shooting stuff since other kids were learning to read, and it comes as second nature to him. Even when he’s upset, he can still get off a bunch of on-target shots against an asshole. Quill also makes navigating through asteroid fields look easy. He could do it in his sleep.
Items & Resources:
Helmet
Quill’s helmet has a heads-up display that flags up things that try to kill him. It’s got communications tech linked to the other Guardians, lets him breathe in space, and conveniently folds away into a cool accessory behind his ear. It works similarly to the way it does in the Square Enix GOTG game.
Rocket Boots
Quill’s boots let him fly through space and get up to high places nobody else can. They’re also super fast. Unfortunately, they’ve got a habit of sparking and sputtering out when someone gets a direct shot in on them. He’s learned to fly on one boot, but it looks way less sexy.
Translator Chip
Hurt like a bitch having this put in. Sometimes it goes funny and makes a squeaky noise. He is not getting an upgrade unless they knock him out. Peter thinks Nebula might take that literally if he mentions it.
Zune
THREE. HUNDRED. SONGS.
Home Reality:
The Sacred Timeline/MCU-616
History [TW for canon-typical terrible upbringing]:
Peter claims to remember more about Terra than he actually does. He was only eight when his Mom - when Yondu stole him with only the contents of his backpack to remember his planet by. He thought he was going to die. All these aliens were pushing him around and he had no idea what they were saying. Until they gave him some bitter-tasting drink and shoved a translator chip in his neck.
That was space whisky, and honestly, sometimes he preferred not being able to understand their bullshit. After a few years, he managed to work out eating him was an empty threat. Especially because the one guy who actually tried conveniently ‘fell’ out into deep space. Yondu - he didn’t really know how to look after a kid. He’d kick the shit out of Peter and then turn round and kick the shit out of someone else for him.
Quill himself will totally admit he was an asshole teen. What did they expect, man? He had a spaceship when he was ten! ‘Course he was gonna go for joyrides! See all the cool stuff there was to see! Kiss girls! And boys! And, well, basically everyone! Contraxia wasn’t the same. He wanted someone who was, well, not a robot. Who wasn’t gonna just…deactivate. Someone who’d sit and listen to music with him. Nobody really hung around that long.
Okay, it was cool being a space outlaw. He couldn’t shake the thoughts, though, sometimes. Was this all there was? Getting money, drinking it away, fighting and fucking. Pretty damn cool, but was he gonna do that for the rest of his life? He couldn’t stop thinking about what else there could be out in the galaxy. In his darkest moments, he wondered if his Mom would be mad that he was just dossing around stealing stuff and screwing minor royals.
The Orb seemed like a ticket outta dodge. He knew he could go steal it under Yondu’s nose. Made it look easy, really. What he didn’t expect was the really hot chick taking an interest in the Orb - and kicking him over it. Later - much later - Quill would joke that he would have preferred to be pinned under her in very different circumstances. He thought he might have been on drugs when a raccoon and a tree joined the fight.
It was a pretty cool jailbreak, though. They were gonna go get money, get their freedom…even then, he’d felt himself getting used to hanging around them. They were all losers together. When they found out the truth about the Orb...he’d thought about just letting Yondu have it. It was a dick move, looking back. There was never any other choice than playing keep-the-death-circle-away-from-the-Kree-whackjob. Would have helped if SOMEONE didn’t CALL A WHOLE ARMY.
He pulled out all the stops to try and let Gamora escape with the Orb. Did some of his best-ever flying. It wasn’t enough. The powerlessness, watching Gamora float out there…He didn’t even hear Rocket’s warnings. He knew he couldn’t let her die. The cold was - fuck, it was up in the top 10 most painful things. He’d go through it all again in a heartbeat to save her. He wasn’t bullshitting when he told her that something had come over him. It wasn’t heroism. That was just the first socially acceptable thing that popped into his head. It was actually like he’d just started to finally understand all the love songs.
Grabbing the stone had been an instinctive decision too. If it meant the Guardians and the planet and the universe would be fine - he could live with dying. She took his hand, like he’d failed to do with his Mom all those years ago. Looking back at them all, sooty and bloodied, he felt like he’d finally found his place.
Goddamn Nova Corps had to throw a spanner in the works. Telling him there was something about him they couldn’t identify. It was too good to be true, maybe. His father walking into his life just as he’d worked out what he was supposed to do with it. Back then he honestly didn’t understand what Gamora’s problem was. He’d never forgive himself for what he’d said to her. The words ‘I thought you already had’ would be pretty much written on his conscience for the rest of - eternity. Fuck.
Eternity wasn’t something he would ever be able to put down in words. Not even in music. It was just - everything that ever was and ever could be, all at the same time. Enough to drive a guy insane. And you could…you could feel it all. Feel the destruction coursing through the galaxy while you can’t even save your most treasured possession. Let alone anyone else.
He was ready to go out in a blaze of glory. He’d made his peace with everything. He was supposed to be the one that didn’t make it. In his nightmares, he’s still trying to tear off the shield and give it back to Yondu. It always ends the same. Peter’s struggling, but he’s got people around him who understand. He’s got Gamora to lean on. He always wanted a little sister, and Mantis’s joy at seeing space is literally infectious. He said it himself…there will be good and bad. They’ll get through it. With music, and with each other.
Or so he thought. It lasted that way for a while, but nothing good ever stays long. The threat that’d been hanging over them became a reality. Thanos. He promised Gamora he’d kill her, if it came down to it, and it would’ve killed him to succeed - but there was no way he’d have denied her the chance to go out among friends, like she wanted. But he couldn’t even give her that, in the end.
He lost it, because of course he did. Thanos took her life away from her, treated her like she was nothing - but she was everything. Peter was under no illusions about how badly he’d screwed up. No matter how much he reminded himself of Strange’s words that there was only one way to win, nothing changed the fact that she was gone and he wouldn’t be able to fix this.
When he’d turned to dust, honestly, he hadn’t minded too much. Figured he was going up to the spirit in the sky. That Mom, Yondu and Gamora would be waiting for him. The reality of waking up, being drafted back into battle, and thinking she’d survived only to find out she wasn’t the Gamora he knew? Honestly, he would’ve preferred to stay dusted.
This universe’s Gamora had still ended up alone. At the bottom of a cold mountain. Quill hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone. Asked Nebula for the truth, because it was mildly-less-shitty than conjuring up terrible nightmares about all the stuff Thanos could have done to her.
He was also under no illusions that she wasn’t coming back. The Gamora he was searching for wasn’t going to be their Gamora. Gamora - actually - hadn’t ever belonged to anyone other than herself, and he loved her for it. All the assholes in the world, in Peter’s experience, started out claiming ownership over a woman’s life and then discarding her when they couldn’t fit her into their plans anymore. He wasn’t that guy, and wasn’t ever going to be that guy. He just wanted to know if she was okay, and tell her she wasn’t totally alone in the universe and could call the Guardians any time she wanted. If she ever wanted.