#20 strongest members were missing PRESUMED DEAD

[clueless1995]

ok not to fairy tail post but i would Not participate in the grand magic games like. you’re telling me everyone thought just over 20 fairy tail guild members Including their master and all their strongest wizard went missing and were presumed dead for Seven years and instead of like. showing kindness and compassion to the members left behind everyone belittled and took advantage of them??? and now you want to participate in the stupid magic tournament to prove to everyone that you’re the strongest guild now that everyone is back?? fuck no i’m not going to be a little performing circus clown to entertain the people who treated my friends like that i’ve got nothing to prove to anyone who would behave that way ok BYE

[pinkandgreenarepurpleandyellow]

What I Imagine It Was Like For Charles To Manage Zazz Blammymatazz

Alternatively titled: I'm 95% sure it was Brendon Small voicing the manager and I shall accept corrections over my dead body

- Pros: Gaudy colors. Cons: Very gaudy colors.

- I think he would have genuinely been happier in the job if only they'd let him wear purple and red suits. He really hates how the orange clashes with his neon blue hair in such an ugly way and the green shoes just cement his hatred.

- Has had to bail all four idiots out of jail multiple times.

- Never actually did any of the cocaine offered to him, but he's been around it so long he can walk into a room with a single baggie of cocaine across from him, sniff the air by the door, and determine the cocaine's origins, quality, and freshness.

- He doesn't use this talent around the Dethklok boys because they would inevitably figure out a way to abuse it.

- The band exercised with him regularly. It was just about the only time he'd ever see them high off something that wasn't at least partially cocaine (they did come a little buzzed on marijuana, but runners high is a thing all of them actively chased). He and Rockzo were the most limber members.

- Charles was the second strongest person present. At the very beginning of the band's career, he was still building up muscle. Rockzo would occasionally try to literally throw his manager over his shoulder and carry out him out of the room whenever Charles needed to drag the other bandmates outside to helps prevent overdoses and deaths.

- After the very first time, it has never worked again. Charles has no qualms about first using momentum to flip over Rockzo's shoulder and then throwing his least favorite clown to the floor, WWE style.

- His favorite was Snowball. Snowball had the thing with drugs but at least he was (relatively) the least trouble-causing. The guy hooked up with surprisingly few people and was much more careful about it than any of the others. He and Charles are still in (distant) contact, but they don't talk about how they became friends.

- Razzy did a lot of heroin and smoked constantly. The effects are still visible 20 years later.

- Bink Bonk was the one who supplied the band with cocaine more often than not. His addiction was surprisingly manageable and he had the least miserable time quitting out of everyone. He's very much not sober but at least now he no longer mixes drugs or does cocaine.

- The amount of clown groupies was so goddamn irritating. The amount of times a backstage hookup was accompanied by a sound of a balloon popping an a juggalo-loking chick storming out angry and upset with one tit missing? Disturbingly hilarious even after dozens of times. Charles kept a running tally of whose groupies had this happen, how many times this happened, and what came out of the fake tits.

- Honorary mention to the gal who offered to "Blow up everyone's balloons" and then subsequently got all four members of the band sent to the ER with penises that she had somehow tied into (crude) knots and bends.

- Rockzo's pedophilia was not known to the band until Dory. Charles handed in his resignation when he heard the song for the first time, a surprise in a live concert and the others initially felt that a fictional song about a (presumed) fictional girl is on the safe-ish, if skeevy, side of things. Three weeks later, Rockzo was caught with Dory, went on the run, and the band self-destructed. Charles did a handful of stints with smaller bands, helped out Financially Raped and Snakes 'N' Barrels. Skwisgaar and Pickles remembered him and contacted him when Dethklok was born.

- Rockzo doesn't remember Charles having managed them. Charles had a bit more weight back then, differently colored and styled hair, and constantly wore clown makeup. His vocal tics picked up a bit more after he left, but he'd always disguised them during his time with Zazz Blammymatazz. Rockzo is genuinely convinced Charles is the shoe salesman he'd once gotten his boots from.

- The only thing Charles still has from his time with Zazz is the tie to his orange suit. He feels awkward about throwing it away but refuses to wear it.

- Charles learned to juggle when Zazz Blammymatazz was kicking off and he'd have some time to himself/with just the band, back when they weren't constantly high on every drug available. He still remembers how but will only attempt to juggle if he's so drunk he can't repress it. He's freakishly talented despite never having the time to practice.

[sending-the-message]

I'm the only one left on my floor... - Part 2 by mordecains

Part 1

I need your help.

Let me explain what happened yesterday evening.

“Subject: RE: [no subject]

Please tell me you have something to do with this damn bird with the camera. If you know what’s going on, please, please tell me.”

I didn’t bother to put a signature, it was pretty apparent this person knew who I was. Their email came in from one of those emails that looks like they get automatically generated by an anonymous survey response system, with probably 25 random characters using a random few characters as the domain.

Anyway, I was obviously taken aback by my discovery of what Mordecai was. I initially thought it was infrared I was looking at, but it occurred to me you can’t see infrared under normal circumstances. But, I definitely saw soft, glowing red light, so it was safe to assume that Mordecai was a camera. I’m not sure if I’m more amazed that they managed to make a recording device so intricate in that it could fly and behave (for the most part) like a normal bird, or if I’m more upset I couldn’t tell it was fake. Well, that doesn’t matter anymore, because now I know the truth.

I wasn’t gonna stick around any longer.

I make my way to the exit. The way my building is set up, the stairwell is only for emergency situations. Otherwise, even heading down or up a single story, you have to use the elevator. So of course, I try the stairwell first. If an alarm goes off, then good. I wouldn’t mind seeing another human right now, even if it’s a rather unique “emergency”.

Locked.

I head over to the gates, the ones that we have to badge through once we get off the elevators. They’re completely powered off.

Usually, once they detect proximity on the office side, they open. This time, they didn’t. The sliding doors are made out of polycarbonate, and, well, I’m not the strongest guy in the world. I try to kick through them, but these things are pretty sturdy. Figures.

At this point is when I really begin to lose composure. I panic. The lights are still on, so I know that the electricity is still on as well. These gates are the only things that are powered off. I’m not the type of person that will chalk that up to a coincidence, especially not in this situation. I head back to my desk, sit down, and try my hardest to think.

There has to be a way out of here.

An email comes in.

“Subject: RE: [no subject]

i gave you an opportunity to get out. you didn’t do so, and now you’re in this position.” The email reads.

I realized from a couple of comments (and 20/20 hindsight) that I missed an obvious message from the letters that were capitalized in the previous two emails sent to me. I realized that if I had recognized that message sooner, I could’ve left the building. I was able to leave the office and change floors, and would’ve surely been able to get to the first floor and out of harm’s way. Instead, I missed it altogether.

The email continues.

“you are in a situation where you are completely on your own. but not if i can help you. there is a way to get out, a way that few people in your situation have discovered.”

Few people in my situation? As in, this has happened to others?

I begin my reply.

“Subject: RE: [no subject]

Who are you? What do I need to do and what is happening? I need an explanation, I’m losing my mind.”

Immediately after sending, my “guardian angel” sends another email.

“Subject: what you are a part of

you are a test subject. the company you work for also works privately with a group that studies behavioral sciences. why they work with them, i don’t know. what i can tell you is this:

they watch you. you’ve noticed by now all of the cameras within the building, which obviously is not unusual in a secure office like yours. they watch through those. that bird that sits on your ledge is the closest camera they have to you. they use it periodically to see you up close and personal, and obviously you never caught on. they examine your day to day behavior and use it for god knows what. now, here is your situation going forward:

you are expected to die. they will inform of you this in a matter of minutes, and will probably even outline how you are going to die. they do this, likely because they want to see how you react to a situation like the one you are in, knowing that you will be dead within their given time frame. they monitor you, but not in the way that you think. they surveil you, absolutely, but they do not restrict you from much more. you can use your phone and call others, you can use the internet to communicate with others, much like you are doing with me. but they establish rules, rules that must be followed or else you face an immediate consequence. they will detail those in their email, and let me know what they are when you find out (so long as it doesn’t break one of the rules). i do not know if they change or stay the same each time.

what they do not tell you is that you have a chance to survive. most of the time, they don’t have to. to my understanding, people will typically break a rule and end up dead anyway.

i refuse to let that happen to you.”

As I finish reading the email, I don’t quite know how to react. Am I scared? Yes, but the confusion is what sets in deeper. Why? What is this about? Is this even happening? This is the kind of thing that you only see in movies. Do companies like mine really do this kind of stuff?

My questions are soon answered.

“Subject: Blue Jay

Our dearest Michael,

Please forgive us. We apologize greatly for the feelings of fear, confusion, and stress that you are certain to be feeling right now. While intended, it’s not a part of the experiment we necessarily enjoy. However, it is vital to the understanding of human behavior.

We cannot tell you why we are doing this, only what we are doing and are going to do. We have monitored you since you have arrived at the company, examining your behaviors and your habits. We’ve learned that you keep to yourself, and that you tend to be a loner by choice. We’ve noticed that you buy an orange juice and honey bun from the vending machines on the mornings that you presumably skip breakfast.

No, we are not watching your home, we know that is on your mind. We also know what else is on your mind.

Yes, you are going to die. In 5 days at the most. We apologize for this as well. We’re aware that this is unfair to you, but what you must understand is that you are doing a magnificent public service for society. You will not die in vain.

The building you are in is completely empty, as you noticed. The tenants of the building have all been informed that there is a widespread mold issue, and thus they have been relocated for the time being. Your manager tried to contact you over the weekend and inform you of the relocation, however we intercepted the text and responded for you, letting him know you would not be showing up to work this week due to having the flu. He was not involved in this, nor was anyone around you during your time here.

The way you will die is carbon monoxide poisoning. We have altered the ventilation system to where it does not actually ventilate. There will be a source for carbon monoxide, and it will slowly become more and more concentrated as the hours and days pass. You will not find the source. You will experience hallucinations and various effects of the poisoning before you succumb to it, as is necessary for this study. The last of our communication to you is important. These are the rules you must abide by:

You are allowed to use your phone and internet as normal. We repeat, as normal. You are not allowed to contact your loved ones or your colleagues for any reason other than normal conversations that would naturally take place.

We are aware that you may want to share what is happening to you with the outside world. All we ask is this: You do not use your real name. You do not provide the address or location of where you work. General metropolitan area is fine, but you must not specify the actual region of the metropolitan area. You also may not describe a specific view from any windows.

You cannot contact emergency services or authorities, for obvious reasons. This includes members of the media.

You may try to escape, as that is a crucial point of emphasis in our study. However, understand that you will fail to do so.

Michael, the key here is what has been left unsaid. That is what we are looking for. We are attempting to see how you think outside the box, pardon the irony, and how you may come up with ways to approach this situation while still following the concrete rules outlined.

We will let you know if you are about to break a rule. We want you alive for as long as possible for the sake of our work. However, if you break a rule, the consequences will be swift and deadly. Please, do not break a rule. CO poisoning is a much better way to go than the alternative.

Good luck Michael.

Your buddy, Mordecai”

This is where I need your help. The person writing me has yet to respond to my forwarding of the rules to him. Yet, what sticks out to me is “what has been left unsaid”. You, the readers, are not my loved ones or my colleagues. You are anonymous to me, as I am to you. If they mean what they say, I can use you. I do not know how to approach this situation. I ask you all for input on the matter.

What should I ask my guardian that may be useful? Obviously, he escaped, so he must have some valuable insight. Or was he even a subject like myself?

Are there any loopholes in those rules that I may be able to exploit?

Please, comment and tell me what you think I can look into. I need to figure out a way out of this.

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [8/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: peter and gamora argue and make up (aka the usual), gamora has a bit of an epiphany, and someone goes missing.

word count: 4804 | total word count: 118k

a/n: the ending of this one makes me happysad every time i read it over, tbh

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

Janet van Dyne, as the hundreds of students, SHIELD agents, and faculty had learned (sometimes the hard way), was not a girl to be messed with. She wasn’t the strongest, the fastest, or the most skilled of students on campus, but God help you should you get in her way, or even worse, mess with any of her friends.

It had started off as a perfectly normal Sunday morning, of course. She woke up feeling peppy as always, and made her way into the dorm cafeteria/lounge, where Clint and Kate were hovering over the coffee machine, looking desperate, but otherwise dead to the world. She pulled out her green juice from the communal fridge, cracked open the lid with a satisfying pop, and then took a swig, right as she opened Twitter. She then promptly spat it out at the first trending topic she saw, nearly spraying Cosmo and Lucky in the process, who were just innocently sitting on the floor at the Hawkeyes’ feet.

“KAMALA!” she hollered, causing the Hawkeyes to jump. “WE HAVE A SOCIAL MEDIA EMERGENCY!”

Ms. Marvel came dashing in, sliding across the linoleum on her socks, precariously tipping over in the process and nearly braining herself on the doorframe. “What is it, Jan?”

“Why am I seeing this weird, tell-all Twitlonger from some SHIELD agent being DMed to me by hundreds of people?” She stuck her phone in Kamala’s face. “Who is this guy, and why is he saying mean things about Peter?”

“Let me see, girls,” Peggy Carter said, strolling briskly into the kitchen with the no-nonsense attitude that every girl in the Academy revered. She took the phone from Janet and scrolled through the article, frowning. “I can’t say he stands out to me, I wouldn’t remember his face even if I’d met him. He’s rather generically good-looking, wouldn’t you say?”

“He said something about Peter punching him in the face for looking at Gamora,” Janet said. “That doesn’t sound like something he’d do.”

“What’s this about Quill and Gamora?” Natasha sauntered over from the fruit salad station, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. After Peggy showed her the post, her mouth twisted unpleasantly, considering. She wouldn’t put it past Quill and the other Guardians to attempt a long-con to make money, even if it meant a little bad publicity to get into the news. She reasoned that Gamora was the one with a strong moral compass, someone who understood the need to save lives the most after taking so many, and she wouldn’t have taken Natasha’s money regardless. Still, it didn’t clear the suspicions she’d had from the beginning. Maybe this wasn’t the most important secret she had to sniff out on the entirety of the Academy campus (the timefog was definitely a more pressing matter), but it was something Natasha knew she had to look into further.

______

Waking up next to Gamora a second time was decidedly less pleasant than the first, as Peter had been unceremoniously kicked in the gut. With a rather comical shout, he went tumbling out the bed and landed elbow-first on the floor.

Her head popped up over the side of the bed a moment later. “You okay, Quill?” she said, concerned.

“Never better,” Peter groaned, stumbling to his feet. “What happened?”

Her eyes flickered away from him a moment, guilty. “Nightmare,” she murmured. “It won’t happen again.”

He decided not to push it - it was definitely not a topic to be discussed in their game or any context, really, unless she was ready - instead electing to mumble about needing to pee and walking to the bathroom to give her space. When he got back, she was already dressed, her hair braided, face composed once again. She was on her phone, presumably checking her messages and making sure the Guardians hadn’t killed anyone - or each other - in their absence.

“Mantis says there are lots of photos and videos of us online,” Gamora said, turning to face the wall as Peter began stripping down. “They’re referring to us as the ‘hottest new superhero couple’.”

“Alright, I like it,” Peter said as he buttoned up his shirt. “We could definitely be the most attractive superhero couple ever.”

“Always so modest,” she commented dryly, turning back around as he finished adjusting his belt buckle. As she moved to get up, her phone went off with a text notification. “Wait, Janet says there’s a weird Twitter post about us.”

He sat down to do up his shoelaces, distracted by the need to finish dressing. “Yeah, yeah, read it.”

“It says, ‘Star-Lord is a possessive psychopath. He and his girlfriend came to my workplace for some Guardians business, and when I checked them in, I apparently took too long looking over her ID and he lost it. He grabbed me, pulled me out from behind my desk, and punched me in the face repeatedly. It took two security guards to pull him off me, and he kept yelling at me about trying to steal his girlfriend.’” Gamora blinked. “What the hell,” she said flatly.

“It’s that damn Number Five,” Peter said, fists clenched. “My nickname for him,” he added at Gamora’s confused expression. “He’s probably mad he got called out for being a creep, even though I was super non-confrontational about it.”

“And now he’s making people think you’re an over-possessive, violent boyfriend, how is that okay?” she exclaimed. “An untrue slight against you, you’re just going to let that go?”

“If it becomes a problem, we’ll deal with it,” he shrugged, and there was that nonchalant quality of Peter’s that frustrated Gamora so often. It wasn’t just in situations like this, it was on missions, on jobs, where he told everyone he would “figure it out when we get there”, or “wait until we know more”.

“Your talent for improvisation will only take you so far,” she informed him, getting to her feet. “We might need to make a counter statement when we get back. I’ll text Pepper.”

“You do that,” Peter sighed, frustrated. This day was already starting out on a sour note compared to the near-perfect time they had yesterday. He hoped it could only go up from here.

______

Breakfast downstairs was an...interesting affair. The elderly couple from yesterday was there once again, having a petty argument about using the wrong kind of knife for jam, when they spotted Gamora and gestured for her and Peter to join them. They shared stories of their favourite dates and anniversaries, which made the two smile, until they asked how long Peter and Gamora had been together.

“We’ve known each other for a couple years, but we’ve only been dating about four months, almost five,” Peter said, glancing over at a slightly defensive-looking Gamora. The couple motioned for him to elaborate. “I don’t know if civilians heard about the fight us Guardians had back at that time, but my father turned out to be pretty evil and we had to take him out. It was in that moment that I realized I had a giant crush on Gamora, and I didn’t want to lose out on telling her before some other crazy bad guy took us down.”

It still made her uneasy to hear or tell this story, no matter how many times it was spoken aloud. A lie rooted a little too deeply into truth, and Gamora could almost forget that it didn’t actually happen.

After Peter continued to make up stories during the duration of breakfast, the pair headed out to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a place that Mantis had listed and Pepper had recommended. “There’s lots of amazing stuff in there, but I think Gamora would especially love the Arms and Armor section,” she had said, handing them a stack of brochures.

The car ride was uneasy, to say the least. Gamora wasn’t sure why she was so annoyed this time, in all honesty. It wasn’t like this was the most stubborn either of them had been, nor the most dire issue they’d ever gotten into an argument over. And yet, it bothered her that Peter wasn’t planning on doing anything about this. For a guy who cares so much about being called Star-Lord, he doesn’t seem worried about being seen as a violent boyfriend, she thought, glancing over at him. He was humming mindlessly along with the radio, some pop song that played on rotation every two hours. She was uncertain about why he hadn’t switched to an oldies station, but the atmosphere felt too tense for her to ask.

The moment they got out of the car, it was like a switch had flipped. Peter took her hand and guided them to the museum entrance, where they were taken to the front of the queue and let in almost immediately the moment they showed their Academy passes. “Perks of being a hero,” Peter said to her in a sotto voice, slightly concerned that the civilians would overhear and complain. “Where should we start?”

Once they got going, it seemed as if things were back to normal. Gamora found that she was enjoying herself, not just in the Arms and Armor exhibit (though it was definitely her favourite), but in observing the art and furniture of the other exhibits that taught her a great deal of Terran history that she’d been unaware of until now. Peter also seemed to have relaxed a little bit, offering colourful commentary, joking around with her, his hand warm in hers. They seemed so used to it now that she felt as if they would continue to accidentally hold hands after the ruse was up. Or maybe it was just her, unused to the sort of intimacy Peter probably received in spades.

Brave individuals approached them and asked for a photo or for a moment to simply thank them, while the shyer members of the public stared at them from afar, attempting to be discreet in taking videos or photos, only to quickly turn away when eye contact was made. Even one woman blurted out that she thought they looked good together, before turning red in the face and dashing away, clutching at her companion and muttering about how embarrassing she was.

They took a break for lunch when both Peter and his stomach began to complain, tucking themselves away into the American Wing Café for a quick bite. “You alright?” Peter said cautiously, moments after they’d settled in.

“Are you asking after something specific?” Gamora said, tilting her head as she observed Peter practically inhaling his sandwich. “Because if you think I’m still irritated, you’d be correct.”

“I’m just surprised it bothers you so much,” Peter said, frowning. The effect was ruined by bits of lettuce falling out of his mouth. “I get you being worried about Thanos coming to kill me, like, me specifically, but this is just one post making up stories that barely anyone’s listening to. What’s the big deal?”

“You put stock into your reputation but this doesn’t worry you at all. Why?” she countered, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “I understand fighting for people to call you Star-Lord, since it holds both notoriety and sentiment, but what about fighting against being seen as a possessive, unreasonable lover?”

“The public have already gotten over it five minutes after it was posted, and I’m pretty sure any girls I’d be interested in from this point on would be smart enough to know it isn’t true,” Peter shrugged, licking his fingers. “Like, you know I’m not that guy. And hell, you were more physically threatening to him than me, we both know it, so who cares?”

Gamora exhaled slowly. “I guess it bothers me,” she admitted. “Not because you aren’t doing anything about it - I’ve come to expect little effort from you on things like this - but because...I don’t like the idea of people seeing you in a negative light.”

Peter smiled softly, reaching across the table to put his hand over hers. She saw a camera phone flash out of the corner of her eye, but instead of turning towards the culprit, her eyes fixated on Peter’s face instead, the signature warmth in his eyes a comforting sight. “That’s awesome of you - no, really - but that kind of stuff doesn’t really get to me. I care more about what you guys think of me than some random people from the public. And I know what kind of guy I am. So that’s all that matters.”

Smiling back, she felt the tension in her muscles dissipate. Contrary to popular belief, she did not enjoy fighting with Peter. “We should get going,” she said. “I want to look at the swords again.”

______

“I am Groot.”

“I know you’re bored, hold on a second - ”

“I AM GROOT!”

“Hey, now, don’t talk to me like that, watch your d’ast language, kid.” Rocket climbed out from underneath the table, where he had accidentally dropped his wrench. He was working on some weaponry that wasn’t all too critical, but since Peter and Gamora were taking their sweet time bringing supplies back in favour of a “romantic” weekend trip, he didn’t have what he needed to continue doing repairs on the Milano. It also meant he was looking after Groot even more than usual, as the other two would usually take him while Rocket was working. “Now, whaddaya want?”

“I am Groot.” His little wooden fingers pointed in the direction of the sleeping quarters.

“I don’t think she’s even on the ship, Groot. Haven’t seen her since dinner last night.” Rocket rummaged through the mess of wires he’d uncovered from one of the cooling units. It was a miracle the thing hadn’t blown to bits with the way they were tangled up.

“I am Groot.”

“Why would I be worried? Nebula’s probably just skulking in a corner somewhere and hissing at anyone who gets too close.”

“I am Groot!”

“What? How did you even get into my communicator, it’s password-protected.” Rocket leapt over to the coffee table, where his holo-tab was sitting, unlocked. He scrolled through his messages for a moment before looking back over at Groot. “Shit, you’re right. We gotta tell the others.”

“Wha’s going on, rat?” Yondu emerged from his room, looking around blearily. He got a suspiciously high amount of naps in for a guy who was supposedly failing a decent amount of his classes and needed to catch up. Then again, the naps were probably what kept him away from homework in the first place.

“Nebula’s somehow off-planet, she’s been spotted on some cluster near the Kyln,” Rocket said, shoving all of his work onto the floor in favour of his tablet, now projecting a map of Nebula’s rumoured location onto its surface. “We should tell Gamora, we aren’t equipped to handle this without her.”

“Shit,” Yondu yawned, scratching himself. “We really gonna interrupt her and Quill’s date night? They should be on their way to that light thing that bug-girl picked for ‘em.”

“There’s more pressing matters than Quill and Gamora getting all kissy-faced, alright? D’you have any idea how much trouble we’re gonna be in if Patch Man finds out we somehow lost Nebula? How did she even find a spaceship - Milano’s busted, quinjets ain’t built for space travel - ” Rocket started mumbling absent-mindedly to himself as his claws flew over the keyboard, attempting to plot a course for Nebula’s location.

Groot went running down the hall of the Milano, extending his arms to knock on Drax’s and Mantis’s doors. “I am Groot, I am Groot!”

Drax came out first, daggers in hand, ready for a fight. “What is it, small Groot?”

Mantis poked her head out from behind her door. She had earbuds in, listening to a playlist Peter had made for her, and spoke even louder than usual. “What has happened?!”

“We gotta cut in on Quill and Gamora’s love trip - Nebula’s missing,” Rocket called from the kitchen, where he was inexplicably rummaging for cutlery. “Can someone contact them already? Don’t have all day, it’s already getting dark out!”

“Rocket, while I understand the need to recover Nebula, what are we supposed to do about it? There are no functioning spaceships on this base,” Drax said patiently, lowering his daggers slowly in mild disappointment.

“We’ll figure it out,” Rocket snarled. “Now get to it!”

______

“Is it bad I kinda just want to spend the rest of the day in here?” Peter asked, flopping down on the bed. He rolled around to cocoon himself in the thick duvet. “I don’t know what it is, but I’ve been kinda tired this whole trip. Not in a bad way, just like a ‘I’m-letting-myself-get-tired’ kinda way.”

“We don’t get much rest at the Academy, so being off-campus probably helps your body relax,” Gamora suggested. “We don’t have to go, then. We can just...stay in. Order more pizza, watch the lights from here.”

“You secretly like pizza, don’t you,” he teased, turning over to look at her.

“Didn’t think it was much of a secret,” she replied, smiling as she set down her bag and her phone. “I adhere to a strict diet to maintain my physicality, but I enjoy indulging every once in awhile.”

“Pizza it is,” he cheered, reaching for his phone. To his surprise, less than a minute later, Gamora crawled in next to him, having apparently already changed into her pajamas in record time. She’d taken out her braids, leaving her hair slightly crinkled and messy, looking more unkempt than he’d ever seen her, but just as pretty as ever. It was good to see her so at ease.

“And maybe a movie?” she suggested, almost shyly.

He nodded more vigorously than he meant to. Gamora’s large chocolate brown eyes were kind of mesmerizing up close. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

______

Despite still being grounded, the Milano had delved into chaos, what with Rocket leaping about as quickly as he could to gather parts, Mantis and Drax attempting to flesh out Rocket’s flight path plan, Groot bouncing up and down on the kitchen counter in anticipation, and...well, Yondu was sitting on the couch, observing.

He was in charge of contacting Peter, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do it just yet. Not because of him being away with Gamora, though that did play a minor role, but because...was it really so crucial to get Nebula back? She left for a reason, a reason that everyone suspected but couldn’t confirm - Thanos. Going after Nebula likely meant confronting Thanos, and Yondu wasn’t in the mood for dying, not today.

Watching the others scramble around like their feet were on fire, you could never tell that Nebula constantly antagonized all of them, only being marginally nice to Gamora when it suited her. Gamora had insisted her sister wasn’t a lost cause, not yet, but it was telling when Nebula bolted the moment Gamora was gone as well. And they weren’t saying it out loud, but the way they were eyeing him? Yondu could tell the others were surprised he was still here when Peter wasn’t, either.

“We really that scared of Fury findin’ out?” Yondu called, tucking the holo-tab away, as if he’d done what he’d been instructed to do. “Maybe he’ll like it better now that she’s gone.”

“It’s not just Fury I’m worried about, you idiot. You wanna face Gamora when she gets back and finds out we didn’t tell her that her sister somehow disappeared off-planet to fight their evil daddy?!” A clang. “Ow.”

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks. So are you helpin’ or are you hinderin’? ‘Cause if you’re not helping, we could use some extra space.” Rocket’s arms were folded, his chin tipped upwards. Yondu supposed it would be more intimidating if Rocket wasn’t a mere 3 feet tall.

“Pretty sure Quill put Drax in charge, not you,” Yondu drawled, moving closer to stare him down.

“It would be wise of you to assist us, Yondu, unless you would like to have your toes removed.” Drax’s voice, usually jovial at best and monotonous at worst, was dangerously low, his blue eyes like ice.

“Yessir,” Yondu said sarcastically, though he moved over to the table to help. He wasn’t that much of an idiot.

______

“Just once, I’d like to watch a movie with no singing or dancing in it whatsoever,” Gamora sighed as the movie ended, her head moving to rest next to Peter’s shoulder. “I think you’re skewing my perception of Terran culture.”

“Twist and Shout is so good,” Peter said enthusiastically, turning to look at her. They were nearly nose-to-nose (well, Peter’s-nose-to-Gamora’s-forehead. She was uncharacteristically slouched over, her entire upper body pressed up against his). “I could totally be Ferris Bueller, right?”

“As long as you’re not expecting me to be Sloane,” Gamora said, patting his leg.

“I think you’re more like Jeanie,” he countered, leaning closer. “Did you see the way she took out the principal?”

She laughed softly, her hand coming to a stop on his knee. “Alright then, that helped me think of my next question. The Guardians, we think of each other like family. We fight, we argue, but we do it for each other. Do you see Nebula and I as your sisters?”

“No offense to Nebula, but she’s not exactly on the ‘ride-or-die’ level for me yet,” Peter chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They were nearly cuddling at this point, body heat radiating off both of them at every spot they were touching. It made him vaguely wonder if there had been something in the pizza that had made Gamora unusually pliant, but even stranger, it wasn’t as odd to him as he thought. She was so comfortable around him now that it made him secretly feel pleased. He couldn’t imagine Gamora being able to snuggle up to anyone since she was a young, innocent girl, and now her arm was slung across his lap like it was nothing, his breath rustling her hair.

“And me?” There was a half-smile on her face, almost flirtatious. It reminded him of when they had stopped over on Knowhere, where Rocket, Drax, and Groot had gotten drunk, and he and Gamora had a moment that he held on to with a surprising fierceness.

“I, uh...I don’t think, that, uh, I think of you as my sister. First of all, it would make this whole fake relationship situation really weird,” he elaborated at her slightly baffled expression. “And you have some...qualities, that I like in girls.” He cursed inwardly at himself the moment the words left his mouth. What was he, some inexperienced ten-year old trying to flirt with his schoolyard crush? This was Gamora, someone that he’d been opening up to in the past few weeks in ways he’d never anticipated.

Thankfully, she didn’t prod further. “But I don’t dance, or quote movies you like, or find you funny,” Gamora said, teasing.

“Oh, you definitely dance.” Peter got to his feet, weaving their fingers together and pulling her up as well. “I think you’ve danced with me enough times to establish that you’re totally a dancer.”

He moved to press play on his Walkman, smiling as the gentle sounds of a chorus and strings flooded the room. Despite having the latest technology available to him soon after they’d landed on Terra, Peter had asked for songs he had discovered later on and truly loved to be put on tape. He liked the idea of continuing his mother’s Awesome Mixes, as if it was his way of responding to hers.

They slowly moved around the room, Gamora sighing as she always did but following his lead. She was slightly on her toes, as her feet were bare, taking away the height advantage her thick-heeled combat boots usually afforded her. Her face was closer than it usually was, and despite the fact they’d kissed just yesterday (was it really yesterday? It felt like decades ago), there was an intimacy present that she was unused to, the feeling of Peter’s breath against her nose that wasn’t too unpleasant.

He then ducked his head slightly, his mouth now practically in her hair, nestled comfortably against her ear. “You give your hand to me, and then you say hello,” he sang, his voice so soft that she nearly missed it. As they turned slowly around the generously-sized living room, she could see the lights from the show flickering in and out of view, bathing them in a warm glow. “And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so…”

Peter opted to hum for the next few lines, but Gamora felt her face begin to warm. Their perceptions of music were so different. Gamora enjoyed her punk-rock, with lyrics about fighting against the establishment and navigating the hardships of life and death, but there was something so endearing and innocent about Peter’s connection to older songs. He was a modern man in many ways - his somewhat arrogant personality in contrast to his gentle, all-loving nature - but his heart beat in time to older music and movies that celebrated love and life.

She dared herself to look up at him, and there was that softness that she liked so much, a stark contrast from the steely-eyed confrontation they had earlier today and many times before. Their eyes locked as Peter picked up again. “...and longs to kiss your lips, and longs to hold you tight...to you, I’m just a friend...that’s all I’ve ever been…” He broke off to chuckle. “It’s weird, ‘cause this song is pretty slow, but they dance so quickly in the movie. I always thought it was perfect for just kind of...two-stepping...like this.”

Gamora let out a soft breath, unsure of what to say. A breeze whistled by from the open balcony door, disturbing her hair, but all she could see was how it made one of Peter’s curls flop over his forehead. She reached up to push it out of the way. “Do you have a question for me?” She wasn’t sure why she was whispering, or why her thumb lingered on his cheek longer than she’d meant to.

“Sure,” Peter smiled. “You know what I look for in a significant other. What do you look for in a guy?”

“Physically fit,” she said immediately. That was an easy one, she needed someone to keep up with her in training, combat, and...other things. “Disciplined, intelligent, level-headed.”

He chuckled softly. “You describing a life partner or a business partner?” His large hand pressed slightly closer on the small of her back, though the pads of his fingers were still gentle. “Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by, a chance that you might love me too…”

“Then I guess you could say I look for a person who could be by my side in all aspects of my life,” Gamora countered, though her voice remained quiet and even. “Someone to be on equal footing with.”

“Like someone who leads a team with you?” Peter asked, and her eyes widened in realization. Maybe…

“Maybe, exactly, like that,” Gamora breathed, her chin tipping upwards.

It was an unconscious choice by them both, an instinct, really, as they moved together. Gamora’s hands were now cupped in Peter’s, held delicately between their chests. Their bare feet, taking tiny, careful steps, now coming to a stop. Peter’s nose met the side of hers first, and it was so slow compared to the rushed kiss of yesterday, like they had all the time in the world…

“GAMORA! Gamora, are you there?!”

She jumped backwards, nearly stumbling over her own feet. Peter watched her, astonished. He’d never seen Gamora trip before, not without some sort of catalyst. Without giving him a second glance, she turned and walked into the bedroom, snatching up her tablet. “I’m here, Rocket, what’s wrong?” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Yondu was s’pposed to contact Quill but he decided to be a big blue idiot and do nothin’ - your sister, she’s gone! Off-planet, gone to hang out near the Kyln!”

“What?” Peter exclaimed, hurrying over immediately to stand near Gamora. “How’d she get off Earth? Does SHIELD - or Stark - have some space travel technology we don’t know about?”

“Can’t be too naive, Quill, their secrets got secrets. You guys gotta get back here immediately, ‘cause Fury doesn’t know yet and this ain’t something I wanna tell him!”

“We’ll leave right now,” Gamora promised, her voice level, though her mind was racing. “Don’t do anything rash until we’re back.”

She disappeared into the bathroom to start packing and get changed into her combat gear, leaving Peter to stand there, dumbly staring after her, the spell broken.

Oh, you’ll never know the one who loved you so.

a/n: i know i know, i did the cliché thing, though this whole fic is an excuse for me to deconstruct tropes and clichés so shh

the song they’re slow-dancing to can be found here, in reference to this scene from groundhog day.