Hi! So this is my first ROTG fic, and as the summary suggests, it's going to be a series of drabbles throughout the lives of the various Guardians, with a focus on Jack. The chapters will be of all sorts of lengths- long, short... um... the other thing... and, you know, angsty, humorous, crack, etc.

Reviews are devoured with great appreciation, favourites are looked upon with glee, and follows just the same :D


Set before the movie

He wasn't sure why he did it. Perhaps it was a form of punishment- a masochistic wish to teach himself not to hope for something he couldn't have.

Please

He floated above the crowded streets of New York, balancing steadily on the wind, his knuckles turning pure white as they gripped the long wooden staff in his hands. He stared dully at the ground below him, jaw clenched, frown creeping its way over his forehead. It was now or never.

Just once

New York was always busy. Day or night, in the streets of the innermost city, there was always a thick swarm of people going one way or another, pushing past each other in their haste to get wherever it was they needed to go. The fact that it was Christmas Eve only served to make it even more suffocating than it usually was.

. . .

It hurt.

Somebody

As he watched them, Jack felt an increasing weight on his chest.

Push.

Shove.

Angry glare.

Contact.

Acknowledgement.

He wasn't sure how much more of it he could take. He had come here for a reason, hadn't he? How much longer was he going to stall?

Anybody

So, taking a long, deep breath, Jack steeled himself, let go of the wind, and dropped.

He landed lightly on his feet, threw his arms wide, and shut his eyes tight.

It didn't stop the pain.

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as the feeling set in- one by one, people walked through him, sending white hot chills down his spine. He bit his lip, tightened his grip on his staff, curled his toes, but none of it did anything to stop the low, choked sob that escaped his throat.

He wasn't believed in.

The tears froze on his cheeks, forming a thick, shimmering layer of white on his already pale skin. Some of it broke off, landing and scattering on his old, ugly red sweater.

He'd never be believed in.

Please

Just once

Never.

Somebody

Anybody

Touch me

A jolt ran through his body as something roughly jerked his fingertips. Eyes flying open, he ignored the sight and feeling of people continuing to stride through him and whipped his head to the right, a feeling of fearful, excited apprehension and- dare he say it- hope coursing through him.

He saw nothing but the continued stream of people.

Confused, he looked down, and when he did, whatever emotions had been within him simply vanished.

"Oh," he thought, letting out a soft, humourless chuckle. "Somebody's dropped their handbag."


Haha. So yeah, I may or may not have started this drabble series with something unnecessarily sad.

Headcanon time: Jack can interact with any object that isn't being touched by a non-believer.

Second headcanon: Before he found his hoodie, Jack wore a really quite gross red sweater. In all honesty he absolutely hated it, but it was, for quite some time, all he could find. Besides, it wasn't like anyone could judge him for wearing it when they couldn't see him.

. . . So he told himself.

Hehe. Angsty Jack.

I can't say for sure how long this fic will be- it depends both on the response to it and my personal life (entering last three terms of HSC... bah. ) but I'll try my best to keep it going as long as I can :3