#but that might just be because I’ve successfully tricked my brain into thinking that comics don’t really count

[23sanguinity]

I’ve decided that for my new money spending strategy I will budget 25$ a week to spend and add more (and maybe sometimes less) depending on what I got done. I am allowed to go negative if there’s something really cool but then I can’t spend for at least a week (maybe more, we’ll see how it goes).

[dmydfilmreviews]

MARVEL MOMENTS

 So what they really did, as well as making a good load of films, was actually make a vast tapestry of genius interwoven moments like flicking through a big comic book! Ten years! Twenty something movies! A load of rubbish images at the end of the list because the last three films weren’t officially out on Blu Ray! Avengers assssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Tony Builds the First Suit

 Really it was a stroke of brilliance to start the whole shebang with Iron Man the self-made superhero. The backbone of the whole universe is that of Tony making himself and that all kicks off here, in a sequence that’s hugely thematically satisfying given what comes later. There’s also the fact that back in the day all this construction stuff was just fucking cool, a Nolan-lite bedrock for a blend of realism and fantasy that comic-book cinema had never quite nailed before. Seeing Tony improve his tech step-by-step is a quiet pleasure of these movies, the suits getting more and more outlandish but staying absolutely believable, just like the films, and that all kicks off here with one guy and a non-magical hammer.

Pepper Pulls Out Tony’s Heart

 I noted these all down before Endgame, honestly. Sob. It was always his story really. The best example of the foundational relationship of the MCU: They finish each other’s sentences!

‘Truth is… I am Iron Man.’

 They knew what they’d got from the very first. This ballsy coda sets the tone for the whole MCU, one of backed-up swagger, a willingness to fuck with the source material in the name of story and the general feeling that Robert Downey Jr. was God. All in like two hours. That they flipped the egotistically iconic line into an era-defining declaration of responsibility, growth and heroism a decade later is nothing short of remarkable.

Hulk and Betty in the Rain

 It’s uh… it’s a nice comic-book visual of a classic comic book romance, I guess? Look, Hulk came a long way later, but his forgotten love for Betty was the closest they ever came to the source material outside of the Hulk generally smashing and being awesome. It was sweet!

The Bit Where Hulk Suplexes a Giant Zombie Wolf on the Rainbow Bridge of Asgard

 wait was this in the Incredible Hulk

I’ve Successfully Privatised World Peace!’ ‘Fuck you, Mr Stark.’

 They got Garry Shandling in these movies!

The Suitcase Suit

 Now that is a cool-ass adaptation.

Black Widow Kicks Asses

 Yeah, after a whole movie of being reductive eye-candy she was still reductive eye-candy here. But the scene as a whole’s basically a perfect realisation of her moves in the comics, and showed Marvel were capable of doing someone who wasn’t Iron Man. Then they did EVERYYYYOONNNNNNEEE bonus points for Happy taking out that one guy and yelling ‘I got him!’

Tony and Rhodey in the Japanese Gardens

 Look, they just look cool, OK? No one said this was going to be deep.

Tony and Pepper as the Stark Expo Explodes

 They haven’t managed a lot of great romance, but this one hella works: Tony’s overblown mess of a movie expo exploding behind the true love of his life is a visual so great that Shane Black nicked it wholesale for the climax of Iron Man Three: Christmas in Croydon.

The Frost Giant Throwdown

 Wait, what’s happening? I thought these were the movies where Jeff Bridges rode a Segway? Are we in SPAAAAACCCCCEEEE?

Thor Can’t Pull It Off

 Out of the big three Thor’s arc of mythology to humanity might be the deepest and most satisfying of all. That starts here with his tearful inability to be worthy of his father, his world and, crucially, himself, leading directly into the first great Thor/Loki exchange, then a whole host of movies that eventually put him through the emotional wringer to self-acceptance. Hopefully?

Thor and Loki Battle on the Rainbow Bridge

 Yeah, it looks kind of goofy, but this is pure sixties Kirby, shorn of the irony the series would develop later. Beautiful.

Erskine Points To Cap’s Heart

 That’s it. That’s the character.

The Star Spangled Man!

 Who’ll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berliiiin?

That Whole War Montage That Ends With Bucky Falling From The Train

 Just smash after smash after smash of wartime Cap goodness that we’d never see again, ending with the ‘death’ that’d define the rest of his story. Steve lost as much as Thanos in his quest for peace but, y’know, he wasn’t a total fucking intergalactic dick about it.

‘I gotta put her in the water!’

 Man alive he waited for that date... whether you think the ending of Endgame ruins the moment somewhat (it doesn’t. sort of), this was still the biggest heart-tugger in the MCU at that point, and defined the characters of Cap and Peggy for years to come. Watch Agent Carter! Just bloody watch it!

'Lemme Put You On Hold’

 The stand out moment of The Avengers is basically all of it, but let’s start with the moment Black Widow finally becomes a character, a sequence of broad-strokes skill from Scarlett Johansson and Joss Whedon that begged for a movie she finally got way too long later. Bonus points for possibly the greatest Coulson reaction shot in a history of great reaction shots.

The Helicarrier Ascends

 OK, shit – this is series is big now.

The Whole of Stuttgart

 Whedon’s love of classical posh entertainment is seen in Angel’s superior ballet episode and his fondness for Sondheim, and he even gets a bit of the ol’ jewellery rattling in here in a perfectly pitched Loki-loving sequence that culminates in some fantastic bits for Cap before Iron Man AC/DC’s all over the place. This is where the comic book stuff really kicks off.

‘YOU COME HOME!’

 This Hemsworth’s fella’s really got something...

Forest Bro Down

 Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. The first real Avengers mash-up is just wonderful. This is where the wish-fulfilment really begins, in a quiet clearing, where three superheroes nearly beat the shit out of each other in classic comic-book style. The Avengers assembled.

The Whole Fuckin’ Helicarrier Sequence

 An absolute masterpiece of blockbuster juggling that had never been done before, this could be the third act of any other film. Over what plays out weirdly like a piece of theatre we get terrifying Hulks, mewling quims and awesome heroics, all expertly laced with wonderful character mash-ups and action we’d never seen before. Then Coulson dies. This is what Joss Whedon does.

‘There was an idea…’

 Fuck shit yeah there was, and it made for a hell of an Infinity War trailer six years later.

ALL OF NEW YORK

 Yep, all of it, but if we’re being picky it’s Hulk v Loki for the comedy side, the tracking shot for the action. As a sequence it’s never been bettered in the MCU, even in the open-mouthed joy-gush of Infinity War and Endgame. FIGHT ME

Go Fish

 Iron Man Three is a wonderful movie that works best as the sum of its parts, but there’s one bit that’s up there with the pantheon: the sky-diving rescue above the bay is such a joyous subversion of the usual third-act super-fisticuffs that it’s like something out of a 70’s Superman movie, only with a hilarious capper at the end where Iron Man explodes under a truck. Beep beep!

Running the Lemurian Star

 The Russo Brother’s action calling-card for their incredible MCU run, this sets up their vision of Cap’s super-subtle-super-serum-super-moves. From the off it’s a game changer in the way action’s shot across the MCU, clean-cut raid-alikes becoming the order of the day. AND THEN HE FIGHTS BATROC ZE LEAPER

Elevator Throwdown

 Yeah, yeah, we all know the actual bit in the elevator that’s spoofed to tremendous effect come Endgame, but remember this sequence ends with Cap TAKING DOWN A FUCKING QUINJET SINGLE-HANDED. The look on his face at the end says it all.

The Winter Soldier Street Fight

HE FLICKS A KNIFE MID PUNCH

Come and Get Your Love

 We’d seen a lot of cool shit from the MCU by this point, but this was something else again. It’s funny! It’s funny as fuck! What the fuck is this movie? And again, they know their own best bits: the return to this in Endgame is top drawer. What a moron.

The Kyln Sequence

 This whole breakout is the Guardians at their very best; squabbling in space, reluctant teamwork, loads of cool shit and leg theft. The bit where it all goes anti-grav is a treat.

WE ARE GROOT

 That’s it. That’s the movie.

…Stark…

 It’s a shame they didn’t delve deeper into Scarlet Witch’s hatred for the man who murdered her parents, but her barely contained rage is the keystone for Age of Ultron: deeper, nastier, more questioning of it’s heroes and their heroism. This one they brought on all by themselves.

Sun’s Gettin’ Real Low

 Yeah, maybe it’s for the best the slightly bumbled Hulktasha relationship was forgotten about, but this moment was pivotal in the character development of both. Beautifully shot, and leads to a primo Ragnarok gag.

Lift That Hammer

 You genuinely could have made a whole movie of these characters hanging out at an open bar. The Stan cameo’s great, the War Machine story bit gets an Endgame alien planet boost much later, but it’s the drunken worthiness competition that’s the real highlight, a seemingly fun throwaway that actually almost single-handedly sets up the whole character of Vision and the most fist-pumping moment of Endgame, a movie nearly entirely composed of fist-pumping moments.

Hulk vs Hulkbuster

 Pure comic-book wish fulfilment again, and how. From Hulk spitting out a tooth to Tony desperately pleading ‘go to sleep go to sleep go to sleep’, this mad clash of science pals knocks every Transformers movie straight through a freshly-bought-building. Veronica!

Well Done.

 Alright, Vision’s no one’s favourite Avenger, but he’s one who’s the satisfying product of several movie plots, one beloved supporting AI and the combined brains, magic and cool red capes of his team. Whedon performs his own mad-skillz level script trick to make us accept this fucking weirdo, first by giving him Jarvis’ voice, then having him stare out at a world and see his reflection in it, then having him lift an unliftable character-establishment hammer. None of this could be done by any other film series.

The Geometry of Belief

 Ultron’s climactic church-a-maggedon is short but perfect, a swirling mass of splash-page insanity that culminates in a glorious trinity of Vision, Iron Man and Thor blasting the shit out of their mad son like a magic triangle. The Avengers at their peak.

Vision and Ultron Have a Chat

 Whedon pops out these gems of detached humanism from time to time, and his sundown final exchange between The Avenger’s success and failure is a doozy. The most poetic little scene in the whole MCU, voiced by two creatures who look like nightmarish dildos. ‘A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts’ is an all-timer.

Big Bathtub

 Ant Man’s bedrock might be its family values, but it’s the shrinking that makes it stand out. The first time Scott drops into tiny-town is a Pixar-esque fun-burst akin to Stephen Strange’s nutso jump into infinity later, with deadly bath taps, thunderclap vacuum cleaners and mid-day apartment raves (?) all bringing a new level of threat and adventure to a series already teeming with variety. They should carry these ones on foreverrrrr

Cassie’s Room

 There’s something about this scene that sums up Scott’s whole character and hopefully sets up his daughter for future ant shenanigans: he is (was) unique as a hero with a family, and no matter how many Pym Particles he stuffs into his suit he’s always looked like a giant to his daughter. Plus, y’know, Thomas the Tank Engine.

Some Guy Crashes a Car at Night

 The catalyst for the great middle schism. Civil War is a masterclass of twisting, gut-churning reveals, and this is the quiet moment that starts it all.

QUEENS

 The perfect Marvel character, introduced into the perfect realisation of the Marvel Universe, perfectly.

Running Into Each Other At The Airport

LITTLE MAN IS BIG NOW I’M CLINT WE HAVEN’T MET YET I DON’T CARE WHERE YOU FROM KID QUEENS BROOKLYN I’M YOUR CONSCIENCE WE HAVEN’T SPOKEN IN A WHILE YOU GUYS KNOW THAT OLD MOVIE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK HOW OLD IS THIS KID ETC ETC OH MY GOD MY BRAIN HAS EXPLODED

Cap vs Iron Man

 ‘I don’t care. He killed my mom.’  

The Big Brain Burst

 They keep doing bits to expand themselves, and this is one of the best, with the most potential for the future. Fleeting, but dazzling.

New York Mirror Fest

 If the next Strange movies delve into this deranged nonsense then they could end up the greatest of all of them. This is the tip of the iceberg, and it’s still unlike anything else being done in mainstream cinema.

Mr Blue Sky

 In a movie that frequently reaches big and misses, at least it hits the spot at the beginning. This glorious celebration of family, space-craziness and genre subversion is everything Guardians does best. The Gamora / Groot bit is adorable.

Peter’s Civil War Adventure

 The perfect tone-setter for the story’s most-average joe, this ground-level view of the universe’s biggest clash acts as a whippet quick intro to Peter Parker’s world in the big bad MCU. It’s always a thrill to see him where he belongs.

The Homage to Getting Buried Under a Tonne of Crap

 Homecoming’s riffs on classic Spidey-lore are generally pretty subtle, but when it comes time to show what Peter’s really made of Watts rips directly from the best, first with the iconic Parker/Spidey face split and then with him holding up a whole fucking building like he’s nerd Hulk or something. The added ‘come on Spider-Mans’ are the adorable icing on the homage-o-cake.

Anytime That Immigrant Song Plays

Another!

Thor vs Hulk

 Yeah, it’s not perfect and it’s a little CGIey. But it’s Thor fighting the Hulk in a fucking galactic gladiator arena place run by Jeff Goldblum and it smashes and it’s full of fun callbacks to previous movies. Yes! That’s what it feels like!

Thor and Loki Do Get Help

 The perfect encapsulation of Waititi’s irreverent-but-with-tonnes-of-heart freshgasm on the story of Thor, this bit of hilarious dumb shit acts as amusing action beat and neat character resolution all in one. They’re friends again! They’re brothers! Thor throws him around like a rolled up carpet!

What Are You The God of Again?

 Oh right, so he’s the best Avenger now.

Killmonger in the Afterlife

 The bloody heart of the most emotional Marvel movie, when Erik Killmonger enters the Wakandan afterlife he finds himself in his own tiny Compton apartment, exiled with his father forever with the plains of eternity just out of reach beyond the window. Heartbreaking, and brilliant.

Thanos Arrives

 The opening of Infinity War is another example of their absolute mastery of tone; after the megaton funblast of Ragnarok we’re thrown into the end of that movie being ripped apart, before Thanos appears, dragging a battered Thor into frame, beats seven shades of green shit out the Hulk and murders two beloved supporting characters, all without breaking a sweat. If you weren’t excited before you were now.

New York Tussle

 The opening New York section of Infinity War is all very clever, acting as the only grounding Earthy moment in what’s a pretty out-there narrative in terms of existential stakes. You get Tony and Wong helping people off the sidewalk and Strange winking after halting the space-death-machine, but from there on out it’s full-bore comic-book smackdown fun, clashing characters who’ve never met and providing top-drawer banter about wizards and children’s parties. This is the page, up there on screen.

BRING ME THANOS!

 BRING ME THANOS!

The Thanos Fight

 Jesus fucking Christ. Up there with the end of Avengers and the Civil War airport battle, this is a perfect realisation of superhero action, with a bigger dose of high-level insanity courtesy of the Infinity Stones and Doctor Strange. Sublimely realised, incredibly satisfying, with real weight and thought put into the spectacle, it’s also fantastic in the narrative of the film, the culmination of its themes of desperation and inevitability. The first time you saw them try to rip off the gauntlet was unbearable.

The Snap

 Well, yeah. You’ll never get back the first time you saw this. And imagine seeing it as a fucking kid.#

Just a Girl

 Sure the big level-up CGI fest at the end is good, but it’s the comedy smackdown on the Kree ship that’s the most satisfying part of Captain Marvel, the shit-eating joy on Carol’s face as she discovers she’s way more powerful than the assholes who’ve been holding her back. It’s corny sure, but it’s hella fun.

Thor Goes For The Head

 Endgame is a shocking, disorientating blur to begin with, all the characters you loved acting in strange, desperate ways in a super-hero version of post-traumatic stress disorder. Tony’s meltdown is bad enough, but it’s when Thor just straight up fucking murders Thanos that you know this is going to get dark and serious. It doesn’t, it remembers it’s a Marvel movie, but the shot of him walking out into the blurred alien sun, cape aflutter, is a fitting goodbye to a more innocent time of heroics.

Ant Man and Cassie

 A moment that could be worthy of a whole movie itself, a desperate Scott Lang meeting his five-years-older daughter gives a joke character a serious moment in the same way Infinity War did for Guardians. It’s very odd, very sweet and very Marvel.

Love You 3000

 Morgan H. Stark is almost a little too on the nose as a wrap-up for Tony, but hell, she’s still sweet as all hell and a perfect capper to his story of fatherhood and responsibility. It’s a mark of the work they’ve put in that we’ll almost immediately accept the tired trope of kid-taking-over-mantle when she inevitably puts on the armour in a few years.

Steve and Peggy / Tony and Howard

 This is the bit in Endgame where I finally started tearing up: a lot of it is too-neat fan-service, but fuck it, they’ve put in so much effort that it works. This is the scene where you realise both of these long arcs are coming to an end, the resolution of Steve quietly making his decision to go back to Peggy and Tony getting the closer of discussing parenthood with his unknowing father. It’s corny sure, but so are comic books, and setting the whole bit at the height of seventies Marvel Comics mania is a loving nod to the imaginations that made all these crazy possibilities possible.

Widow and Hawkeye

 There’s a theme here. All of these moments are kind of cheesy and rely heavily on callbacks to previous bits… but at the moment it doesn’t matter because ENDGAME WOW. Maybe we’ll look back at it as a corny misstep, but for the moment, Clint and Tasha having one last, ludicrously overblown tussle for who gets to live is a sweet capper that never goes as deep as the others because they’re supporting characters. It still stings, and it’s a neat mirror to Gamora and Thanos in Infinity War. The red’s gone from her ledger! It’s on the rocks! Urrrgh

Nebula Kills Herself

 Again, they’re so good that they can spend a big chunk of time in what’s ostensibly the last big movie for their most beloved characters on making a lesser character beloved. Endgame spotlights Nebula even more than Infinity War did Gamora, using her self-hatred and fear of her father for compelling, wibbly-wobbly plot and character beats. The resolution of her story and her newfound place with her team should make for a whole different Guardians before we even get to Fortnite-Thor joining up.

Cap Wields The Hammer

 ‘I KNEW IT!’

Thanos’ Army

 One last escalation of scale. When Thanos’ army finally arrives it’s like something out of those apocalyptic Turner paintings, where the hordes of a ship-wrecked hell confront eternity under skies ripped from heaven. Only this time they’re facing one guy called Steve, and they’re fucked. Incredible.

Avengers… Assemble

 It almost lives up to what you always had in your head. The Marvel Universe, somehow done right.

Tony Hugs Peter Back

Awwww!

New Avengers Run the Gauntlet

 A surprising amount of Endgame’s grand finale is given over to the future hopes; while Strange gets stuck in with holding back a Biblical flood it’s up to Black Panther to grab the Infinity Gauntlet from Clint in a delightful callback to Civil War, before embarking on an intense relay race across the entire battlefield that begins with Scarlet Witch crushing the shit out of Thanos’ testicles and ends with Captain Marvel engaging the Mad Titan in a bone-crushing show of super-strength. And along the way if finds time to have Peter Parker dragged through the air by Thor’s hammer which was thrown by Captain America before landing on a Pegasus flown by Valkryie across an exploding sky of alien whales. Maybe the most satisfying run of action since the first Avengers.

I am Iron Man

 It was always going to be him really. Bonus points for Downey Jr. originally telling Thanos to ‘Fuck off’. Did anyone else keep thinking he was going to wake up and quip and everything would be OK? That’s how you make movies.

The Funeral

 It looks a little weird actually, like they weren’t all on set. But they were! The Marvel Universe again, holy smokes.

The Kiss

 Now that’s how you end ten years and twenty one movies. They’re movies! It was romantic! It was exciting! It was fun!

For TEN FUCKING YEARS.

Swing a Ding Ding Sir

 After five movies of fresh shit they've finally starting dumping some classic Spider-Man on us; the Euro stuff's fun and all, but it's Far From Home delirious climax that sees Spidey and MJ thwipping through the canyons of New York before bumping into ugly ol' J. Jonah JJ Jay Jay likes it's a freakin' comic book or something. Delightful, and also serves as a wonderful image of hope and joy post-Endgame.

What a fuckin’ ride. Here’s to the next... seventy six? Seventy seven?

wait did I leave any out

[stormquill]

debt-free | chapter ten [Tony Stark/Reader]

You tasted like coffee and faded lip gloss; he tasted like vodka and day-old despair.

In which an unexpected late-night rendezvous at your University library ends up with you in way over your goddamn head.

Credits: Beta'd by @l0kt0n. Follow the blog / AO3 mirror @debt--free.

Somehow, you thought ‘safehouses’ were supposed to be inconspicuous.

Though nowhere near as grandiose as Stark’s home in Malibu, the place you’d taken temporary refuge could still house a family of twelve quite comfortably. The elegant outdoor landscaping and impeccable interior design made the building feel more like a four-star hotel than covert asylum, but you figured it made sense—if Stark had to go into hiding, he’d be doing it in style.

You and Hansen sat across from each other, a small table and two untouched coffees between you. You both looked little worse for wear, but you’d been lucky to escape the day’s events with nothing more than a handful of scrapes and bruises. Stark wasn’t looking much better himself, but unlike the two of you, he was on his feet and moving, pacing around the room with all the patience of an anxious cat; you could practically hear the gears grinding in his head, processing everything Hansen had confessed about Killian and their company on the car ride over.

It was strange to think that, less than a couple of hours ago, you were leaving the hospital with Stark, having successfully convinced him to take a break and let you handle the meeting with Hansen.

Five henchmen and one destroyed cafe later, you knew he must have been regretting that decision.

“So the Mandarin is using your Extremis for his attacks?” Stark asked.

“Yeah,” said Hansen. “Those bombings? That’s exactly what happens when you let it get unstable enough.”

“Incendiary devices leave remnants. A million-acre forest fire can be tracked down to a single lit cigarette—it’s forensics, it’s a science. That means there’s evidence at the theater explosion. Something I can use to connect the attacks back to AIM.”

“You won’t find any evidence. Just like they wouldn’t have found any at any of the other sites.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

“Extremis isn’t just some incendiary device, like a bomb or a flare, it’s.” She folded her arms and shifted in her seat. “It’s a form of genetic manipulation. It needs a living host for the thermodynamic hypercharge to work. If the host can control it, Extremis can give them regenerative abilities, enhance their physical performance—but if the host can’t control it...”

Stark made a comical explosion noise.

She shut her eyes and winced away from him, as if the thought alone made her sick. “Point is, the Mandarin is weaponizing my tech to make super-soldiers and living bombs, tech Killian just handed to him on a silver platter. And I don’t know what I can do.”

Keeping silent, you’d watched the two of them go back and forth since Stark started his pseudo-interrogation. Still fueled by outrage over Hogan’s incident, Stark was looking for information, for inconsistencies, for anything he could use as an excuse to get out there and track down the perpetrators. Hansen, on the other hand, was wondering if seeking help was worth the trouble if all they were going to do was talk in circles.

The entire situation was way above your paygrade—but the gears in your head were turning, too.

“You said Extremis is a form of genetic manipulation,” you spoke up. “How is it administered, exactly? Radiotherapy?”

Hansen turned back to you, blinking the weariness from her eyes to try and refocus on your conversation. “Uh—no, intravenous. It’s an intravenous agent.”

“So it works like a virus? Enters the bloodstream, attacks the brain, creates a biochemical reaction.”

“More or less.”

“Then, hypothetically,” you straightened up, “you could develop a vaccine for it.”

The suggestion gave her pause. “I don’t know, maybe? I haven’t gotten anywhere with Extremis’s development in over a decade, I’m not sure how plausible it is to try reverse-coding a half-finished product.”

“I think I might be able to help.”

Your words had gotten both Stark and Hansen’s attention.

You cleared your throat, mulling the words over in your head to make sure you got them right. “If Extremis evokes a thermodynamic reaction that accelerates cellular function, reversing it means causing mass cellular deceleration, which...just so happens to be the unwanted byproduct of my current experimentation.”

The sudden light of inspiration in your eyes now sparked in hers. “You can’t maintain neurogenesis because of entropic decay.”

“And entropic decay is exactly what you need to reverse Extremis’s unstable effects,” you continued. “Obviously, the numbers will need major tweaking, and we’ll need to run some tests—”

“We’ll need samples,” Hansen agreed, shuffling forward in her chair. “There’s not enough time to recreate Extremis from scratch, not with the Mandarin’s recent threats.”

“Where would we get those?”

“Closest AIM headquarters would be in Houston, but...you don’t understand, Killian’s got eyes everywhere—if we hop on a plane, o—or a bus, he’ll see us coming from miles away.”

“Honey,” Stark interrupted, rather loudly, “can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

You were so wrapped up in your discussion with Hansen, you’d forgotten Stark was even there.

His request took you by surprise, but you followed his lead down the hallway. The way Hansen watched in confusion as the two of you disappeared around a corner did not escape your notice.

You entered the room, and shut the door behind you.

Segments of Mark 42 had been disassembled and spread across the floor for post-battle diagnostics. Toeing around the maze of parts, Stark reached the nearby couch, and lazily straddled the armrest. He stretched an arm out in front of him; one of the suit’s gloves flew across the room and attached itself to his hand like a magnet, red and silver metal spreading across his fingers and up his entire forearm.

“Haven’t seen that trick before,” you said, impressed.

“Neat, right? Had to bring the baby—he’s the only one who’d fit in your trunk.”

A mass of images projected themselves from his forearm panel, drowning the room’s ambient lighting with the bright blue glow of various interfaces. Stark gestured through the windows and touch screens, navigating the arrays of diagrams and news articles filling the room around him, his attention maneuvering quickly from one set of panels to the next.

“What are you thinking, doc?” he asked, without looking at you.

“About what?”

“About Maya.”

“I want to help her, if I can.” You made your way over and sat by his side, folding up your legs off the floor. “I mean, having the worst, most volatile parts of your research stolen by a bunch of power-hungry men and used in terrorist attacks? That...fucking sucks.”

“So you trust her?”

“You don’t?”

He clicked his tongue. “Just feels like there’s something she’s not telling us.”

Falling silent, you watched as he conducted his wordless research. Hansen hadn’t given you any reason not to trust her—but in Stark’s world, you realized that must have been tragically naive.

“What do you think we should do, then?” you asked. “Send her back to Killian?”

“No, but I don’t know if getting you involved in this is the greatest idea.”

“I’m already involved. I was involved the moment I went to meet her instead of you.”

“That was a mistake,” he snapped. “I should’ve never let do you that, I should’ve never—”

“You didn’t let me do anything,” you shot back. “We’re both adults—we made a decision, together, and like it or not, here we are.”

“I definitely don’t have to like it. And I definitely don’t have to sit quiet while you hand over your life’s work to someone you just met two hours ago.”

The words took you by surprise.

Stark was worried about you, of course he was, but he was also worried about the integrity of your research—and his concern made sense. At the heart of it all, he was a fellow scientist who’d been with you every step of the way—from your University research proposal, to your doctoral thesis, to the months upon months of sleepy, unproductive nights filled with failed experiments and paperwork to nowhere. He was just as invested in your work as you were.

And he didn’t want to see you compromised.

“I’m not like you, Mr. Stark,” you said. “I’m not a genius in any sense of the word. I don’t have a lot of things to offer.”

“That’s not—”

“You know what I mean,” you interrupted. Fishing for compliments wasn’t what you were aiming for, here. “My research...hasn’t gone anywhere. It hasn’t gone anywhere in a while, and I’ve been worrying a lot about whether or not I’m wasting my time. But Doctor Hansen—she’s been working on this one project for over ten years. That’s how much faith she has in it. In herself. Maybe I have something she needs. Maybe she knows something I don’t. You know my work almost as well as I do, Mr. Stark—if you think any part of my research can help her, I need you to let me try.”

Though he continued staring at the projected screens ahead of him, you could already read the answer in his expression.

Leaning up, you gently cradled a hand against his cheek, turning him to face you properly.

“You have to let me try,” you whispered.

“...you know, the last time I took your advice, you got a cafe blown up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That cafe would’ve blown up with or without me there and you know it.”

“Crazy things happen once these suits get involved, sweetheart. It’s going to be dangerous.”

“I’m in a relationship with you, it comes with the territory.”

He smirked, softly.

And then his lips were on yours.

It felt like it had been ages since you’d last done this, but he kissed you, hard, and the contact set your nerves alight, just as it did every time.

He touched his forehead to yours, resigned, the worry weighing heavy in his eyes.

You rested another kiss against the side of his nose. “Stop thinking you have to do everything on your own. You’re not alone, remember?”

Realization dawned across his face like a new day.

Stark righted himself on the couch arm, clearing away the projections with an impatient swipe of his hand before replacing them a number pad and hitting speed-dial.

Before you could register what was happening, a video display appeared in the air as someone picked up the line.

The man on the other end glanced at Stark, then at you, and already looked exhausted.

“Evening, Colonel,” you said, sheepishly.

“Hi, Doctor. Tony. What’s up?”

Stark’s tone was clear and deliberate. “I have it on very good authority that your buddies over at Advanced Idea Mechanics have something to do with the Mandarin attacks.”

“Oh yeah, what authority?”

“An AIM executive told me so. She’s my hostage now, by the way—you sure you still don’t want me in on this?”

“Are you serious right—” With a loud, frustrated groan, Rhodes rubbed a hand over his face. “I told you, I am not in charge of this operation anymore.”

“But you’re second-in-charge, right? That’s almost as good.”

“Look, just because you can piss all over protocol, that doesn’t mean the rest of us can get away with it scott-free. There’s a chain of command—I cannot be discussing this with you on my own.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”

“I’m bringing him in.”

Stark’s face fell. “Wait, what?”

“You haven’t given me a choice, Tony.”

“Wait wait wait—nonononono—”

But the line was already dialing.

A second video screen appeared next to Rhodes. Bright blue eyes and short blonde hair came into view—a handsome face, boyish but strong, and trustworthy in a way you couldn’t quite explain. The man seemed out of breath as he answered the call; you could see a punching bag behind him, and a gleam of sweat on his brow.

You couldn’t have stopped yourself if you trIed. “Holy shit, it’s Captain America!”

Still catching his breath, Rogers gave you an impossibly charming smile. “Evening, ma’am.”

Meanwhile, Stark’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull. “Yeah—she’s easily impressed, don’t read too much into it—can we focus, here?”

“Captain Rogers,” Rhodes started, “Tony here’s captured an AIM executive who says the company’s dealing with the Mandarin.”

“What—you’ve taken an AIM rep hostage? Is this a civilian we’re talking about? Is that her?”

Rogers pointed at you with a boxing-wrapped hand. Your brain shorted out and you waved back, nervously.

Rhodes had a smile in his voice. “No, Captain, that’s Tony’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Smirking, Rogers offered you a nod. “My condolences, ma’am.”

“Watch it,” Stark warned.

“So you mean to say you brought two civilians into my investigation without my knowledge?”

“Sure did, mom. Hey—could you let me explain before you jump down my throat, maybe? The two of you might learn something.”

Rhodes looked as exasperated as always, but Rogers kept his patience, his composure clearly tempered by many past experiences with Stark.

“We’re listening.”

“The AIM exec is an old friend of mine who came to me for help, Dr. Maya Hansen. She says it’s their tech behind the bombings. There’s been three of them so far, right?”

“Only three have been made public. There’s actually been—”

“—nine attacks worldwide.” Stark brought up a holographic projection of a globe; certain areas around the world were marked with a bright red glow. “I found out the Mandarin attacks have a distinct heat signature—a very balmy 3000 degrees. Not many natural phenomena match the time frames and radii of impact from the Chinese Theater bombing. Why haven’t the other six been made public?”

“We’re trying not to cause a panic,” said Rhodes. “Especially since we don’t know how he’s doing it. We’re calling them bombings, but none of the fire investigations have turned up remnants of explosive devices.”

“It’s because he’s using people as bombs. Not suicide bombers—people injected with some kind of performance-enhancement virus, something that blows them up if it runs too hot. ”

“...you’re kidding.”

“Dr. Hansen told you this?”

Stark nodded. “Mandarin’s associated with the Ten Rings, same guys who threw me in a cave and wanted me to build things for them. Weapons of mass destruction are their bread and butter. Looks like they finally got their hands on something big.”

Rogers nodded again. “Any leads?”

“AIM has a global network with two headquarters in North America, Houston and Miami. Both good places to start digging.”

“And the third?”

“There’s a tenth heat signature that matches the profile, but predates all recent Mandarin attacks. It was marked as a suicide bombing, in some backwater town in Tennessee. I’m thinking it was ground zero. Might be worth checking out.”

“Understood. Colonel Rhodes will stay at his post with the President and continue trying to isolate the source of the Mandarin’s broadcast. I’ll investigate places of interest and get back to you with what I find.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“If you give me ten minutes, I can. Y’know.” Stark made little typing motions. “Sneak into AIM’s databases, save you guys some time.”

“You’ve done enough,” said Rogers. “Dr. Hansen is a person of interest in this investigation, and you’ve somehow managed to get your girlfriend involved. Your job right now is to keep the civilians safe until this is all over.”

“Yeaaaah, about that. There’s little thing I need to take care of in Houst—”

“Don’t let them out of your sight, Stark. Over and out.”

Both video feeds disconnected at once, throwing the bedroom back into its normal ambient lighting.

“You’re welcome!” Stark shouted at the now-empty room. He threw an arm up, hopeless. “Unbelievable.”

“At least you got help,” you offered, trying to cheer him up. “Now you don’t have to be in three places at once.”

“Nope. Just one. Ever been to Houston?”

“Um...” You weren’t sure where this was headed. “No, why?”

“Captain’s orders, remember? Can’t let either of you out of my sight.” He tilted his head to look at you. “Think that car of yours can make the trip?”

You returned his smile of malicious compliance tenfold.

“Hell yes, he can.”

[bevioletskies]

everybody wants to rule the world [3/8]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

summary: peter is the one and only heir to the celestial throne. gamora is expected to successfully lead the titans to conquer the galaxy. a political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air.

alternately: peter and gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.

word count: 13.5k

a/n: warning for creepy/abusive behavior from both thanos and ego towards their respective children throughout the entire fic. also note that this AU is very heavily based on the MCU versions of themselves, where things are basically only different because yondu took peter to ego after all.

fic title is from the song everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears.

we will find you acting on your best behaviour...turn your back on mother nature…

ao3 | tag

Gamora rose bright and early the next morning, unsurprised to find that she could hear the faint sounds of Peter’s snoring, even through the gilded double doors that had to be at least two inches thick. She couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sound, despite its more irritable qualities. She was already starting to pick up on the nuances and personality quirks of her fiancé, rather endearing oddities that made him so unlike the other noblemen she had encountered so far in her line of work. There was a predictability in his unexpectedness, if that made any sense at all, though she wasn’t about to tell him she thought he was sort of charming (when he wasn’t being frustratingly naive).

She slipped out into the sitting room, drawing her dressing gown a little tighter around her middle in case anyone happened to have entered Peter’s quarters, but it was vacant aside from the pizza box from last night still sitting on the coffee table, causing the entire room to smell vaguely of fried cheese. Gamora briefly debated the idea of heading to breakfast by herself, but she wasn’t exactly looking forward to facing Ego again, not after she had run from last night’s dinner. And Nova Prime - well, there went her chances of ever redeeming herself and her people. Stupid, Gamora told herself. You ruined everything for your people because of your own pride. You’re a warrior, not a child. Start acting like one.

Gamora knew she couldn’t afford to have another tantrum like that, lose control of herself and her anger because of how people saw her. Fighting with Peter when they were supposed to be allies, lashing out at Nova Prime for simply reading a little too much into her history - there was too much at stake for her to do anything remotely similar ever again. She was so close to achieving a world in which Thanos would no longer exist, a world in which she and Nebula could finally be free. No more mistakes could be made.

“Morning.” Gamora startled at the sound of Peter’s voice, spinning on her heel to face him. How had she not heard him walk into the room? “Is everything okay? You’re just...standing there.” His voice was pleasantly deep, raspy from sleep, hair sticking up on one side rather comically. She bit back the urge to smooth it down. “Dad didn’t come around to talk to you, did he?”

“Thankfully, no.” Her own voice was raw from lack of use. She coughed sharply. “I was just lost in thought, don’t mind me.”

“Anything I can help with?” he offered. “Like I said last night, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I am your future husband, after all,” he added with a wink.

Gamora only gave him an impressive eye-roll in response, dropping her arms to her sides as the tension evaporated from her shoulders. “We should head to breakfast now, Quill, and see if I can salvage the mess I made last night. Ask for your father’s forgiveness and hope he doesn’t ban me from this planet the moment I step into the room.”

“Well, he has no right to,” Peter said, ruffling his hair, the curls becoming more unruly with every passing moment. “But if it comes to that, I’ll tell him that if you leave, then I’ll leave, too.”

“Quill,” she said quietly. “You don’t owe me anything from yesterday, okay? It was my temper that ruined everything. Don’t risk your relationship with your father to cover for my mistakes.”

“I still don’t think you did anything wrong, but alright,” he conceded. “We should get going.”

After they both got dressed, they walked to the dining hall together, noting the absence of the attendants and guards that had lined the halls by the dozens just yesterday. Clearly, Nova Prime had already left the planet, might have even left immediately after realizing Gamora wasn’t returning to dinner. The sinking feeling in Gamora’s stomach grew stronger as they entered the room and saw Ego sitting at the head of the table with his hands clasped firmly in front of him. Mantis, Yondu, and Gamora’s people were nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning, your highness,” Gamora said, sinking into a deep bow. “Please allow me to apologize for my outburst last night.”

He merely raised an eyebrow before unfolding his hands, waving her off. “Now, now, Gamora. Don’t you worry about a thing. Irani and I had a little chat after you left, and she felt bad about putting you in such an awkward position. I’ll admit, I overreacted myself. There’s no need to apologize.”

Gamora paused. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Ego chuckled. “Come on now, sweetheart. We can’t expect you to change overnight, after all.”

Peter winced. Uh oh. “Change, your highness?” Gamora said slowly. All semblance of submission in her posture vanished instantly in favor of what was starting to sound like the beginnings of a full-blown confrontation.

“If anything, Peter should be the one apologizing, not you,” Ego said through a mouthful of pastry. “Do you have anything to say to me, son?”

Peter froze instantly, his eyes blown wide with fear. Gamora instinctively reached for him, but decided against it, knowing Ego would misinterpret her intentions. “I...I don’t...I’m not sure...what you’re talking about,” he stammered.

Ego sighed, taking a long drink from his mug before setting it back down on the table with a loud clatter. “Well, that’s just disappointing. I expected better from you, son. Now, I do recall I was supposed to let you look at the guest list, but I’m not so sure I want to do that anymore. I don’t like breaking my promises, Peter. But apparently, you do.” Peter turned to look at Gamora with wild desperation, and she began mouthing the answer she knew Ego was looking for. Ego clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Ah, ah, no hints, sweetheart. Peter’s a grown man. He should be able to figure this out on his own.”

Peter’s heartbeat sped up tenfold, pounding so violently in his chest it was like he could physically feel it drumming against his ribcage. Gamora was now fixated on Ego with an apprehensive gaze. He still hadn’t answered her question, and she had a feeling he wasn’t even going to acknowledge what he had said to her. “I’m sorry...that...uh…”

“I don’t have all day, Peter,” Ego said cooly, draining the last of his drink. “And you don’t, either. So if you don’t have a damn clue, both of you should just sit down, eat breakfast, and be ready for our appointment with the decorator. He’ll be here in an hour with displays for us to look at.”

The two of them moved stiffly to their seats, Peter more shaken than Gamora. He stared at his empty plate for a full thirty seconds before Gamora dropped a bread roll in front of him, which seemed to wake him from his reverie. He kept his hands busy for the next minute or so, piling up food that she already knew he didn’t like to eat, as he continued to rack his brain for the answer. Gamora kept her gaze locked on Ego as she ate as calmly as she could, hoping he would look away long enough for her to tell Peter what his father was looking for.

There was something about Peter’s body language that disturbed her immensely, the tightness of his shoulders, the incessant tapping of his foot against the tile floor. She had already become so used to his improper posture, the way he moseyed about without a care in the world. After everything she had worried about just an hour ago, she had never anticipated Ego getting mad at him instead. You’re smarter than this, Gamora, Thanos’s voice leered, rattling about in her brain. Did you really think Ego was going to risk the alliance by alienating you? And don’t tell me you’re attached to your fiancé already. His wellbeing doesn’t matter, so long as he functions well enough for our purpose. Forget him, and focus on the task at hand.

“Who is the decorator, your highness?” she finally asked, looking away from Ego long enough to grab another piece of fruit.

“He’s a bit of wildcard, that man,” Ego answered cryptically. He was still staring Peter down rather intensely, daring him to say something. Peter refused to look up from his plate, shoveling bread in his mouth like he was starving. “Apparently he’s got all sorts of tricks up his sleeve, gadgets and gizmos aplenty. He’s not actually a decorator, per se, but he does owe me some favors, and he’s got connections all over the galaxy to some of the finest goods known to man.”

“I must admit, I’m surprised you aren’t partaking in decorating the palace yourself,” Gamora said, waving a hand at their surroundings. “Considering how...elaborate everything looks, I would have thought it to be a simple task for you.”

“Oh, I’ve got a lot on my plate. Meetings, the boring stuff. Off-planet.” Ego jabbed his fork outwards in a nonsensical direction. “I’ll be leaving tonight, after we’ve made the last few wedding arrangements. I can’t guarantee when I’ll be back, but I will definitely be here for the wedding.” He chewed slowly. “So, Peter. You figured it out yet?”

“I’m...sorry I didn’t bring Gamora back to dinner like I promised,” Peter said carefully.

“And why didn’t you, Peter?” Ego began wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin, the coolness in his eyes still prevalent.

“I was worried about Gamora,” Peter said honestly. “She was upset, I didn’t wanna force her to come back to dinner.”

“So you lied to me, then.” Ego set the napkin down, folded one leg neatly over the other, his hands coming to rest on his bent knee. “You’re really digging yourself a hole here, Peter.”

“I didn’t lie,” Peter frowned. “I asked her to come back like I promised I would, but she didn’t want to, so I didn’t ask again.”

“You better keep an eye on him, Gamora,” Ego said dryly. “You might think you’re marrying a man, but all I see in front of me is a boy. A boy who doesn’t know how to take control like a man, doesn’t know how to handle people like a man.”

“Handle?” Peter exclaimed very suddenly, clenching his fists. Gamora was alarmed to find that once again, tendrils of white light were starting to wiggle their way up between his fingers.

Ego stood abruptly, his chair screeching across the floor. He flipped his cape back over his shoulder before turning and striding away. “We’re receiving the decorator in the throne room in thirty minutes. I expect you both to be on time. Don’t give me another reason to punish you, Peter. And believe me, I will.”

The moment the doors shut behind Ego’s sweeping figure, Peter let out a loud exhale of relief, flexing his fingers outwards as the light slowly died down. Gamora could only sit in silence, unsure of how to comfort him, or if he even needed comforting in the first place. She was so used to Nebula’s tantrums - yelling, fighting, screaming for blood - that Peter’s quiet fury was completely foreign to her. “You see how he is?” Peter laughed hollowly. “It’s stuff like that that makes me wonder why I even bother sticking around. And then I remember.”

“Your sister?” Gamora guessed. He nodded wordlessly. “Then we’re in the same boat. I would have left Thanos long ago if not for Nebula. She still values his opinion in her own way. Craves his attention like it’s the only way to measure her self-worth.”

“Mantis doesn’t know any other way,” he continued. “At least I had eight years with my mom. But she’s been with Dad since she was a baby. Don’t think she ever got a hug until I came along.”

Gamora couldn’t recall the last time she had been hugged, or who by. It had to have been her mother or father. “Come on, Quill,” she said quietly. “We have to finish breakfast and get going before the decorator arrives. We can’t give your father another excuse to hurt you.”

“Right.” He sighed again, picking up his fork. “You’re right.” ______

Peter and Gamora arrived at the throne room with three minutes to spare, their own capes swishing behind them in haste. To Gamora’s surprise, she found another throne had been bolted down beside Peter’s, shimmering proudly in the sunlight, complete with emerald detailing and a plush red cushion. Yondu was already stood at its side, his back stiff as a board as he stared straight ahead, while Mantis and Ego were already settled and ready.

“Would you look at that? You finally listened to me,” Ego drawled.

“Yes, Dad,” Peter said patiently as he and Gamora joined them. He tried his best to sit as still as possible, though he could see Gamora fidgeting with her ring - not the silver rings that so often adorned her fingers, those were entirely absent today - but the engagement ring he had given her, its green diamond catching the light streaming in through the enormous windows. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to talk back.”

“Attaboy.” Ego patted Peter firmly on the shoulder. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Arriving now, Taneleer Tivan - the Collector,” the herald boomed from the front of the room as the enormous front doors swung open. A man strolled in, followed by two young women who looked no older than Mantis. The only word that came to Peter’s mind in that very moment was eccentric - the man was indisputably odd, with a large fur coat over an asymmetric pinstripe jacket, absolutely dripping in jewels, with a shock of white hair and a dark blue stripe down the middle of his bottom lip and chin. The two women were in matching crisp white uniforms, a stark contrast to their vibrantly pink skin and pigtails - clearly Krylorian, and clearly his servants. “Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Ego of the Celestials, and his children, Prince Peter and Princess Mantis, and Prince Peter’s betrothed, Princess Gamora of the Titans.”

“Well, that’s a damn mouthful,” Yondu muttered under his breath. Peter had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

“Your Highnesses,” Tivan purred, bowing so deeply he looked as if he were about to tumble forwards. “It is an absolute honor to be in your presence.”

“The honor is mine, Tivan,” Ego chuckled, the prior iciness in his tone no longer there. “I hope you had a safe journey here. I know we’re a bit hard to find.”

“Oh, nothing could keep me away,” Tivan replied, straightening up. “Especially when I heard that the lovely Princess Gamora was here.”

“And why is that, Tivan?” Gamora leaned forward slightly to get a better look at him. It was surprisingly difficult to read his face - despite the dramatics of his appearance and his speech, there was a dullness in his expression that left her guessing.

“Why, you’re absolutely famous across the galaxy, my dear,” Tivan simpered. “When I heard of your engagement to the handsome Prince Peter here, I knew you would make a splendid pair. I just had to come and see for myself. I wanted the opportunity to provide you both the very finest for your wedding. If I may ask, how did you two meet?”

“It was an arrangement between myself and Thanos,” Ego said, eyes flickering briefly to Gamora before turning back towards the Collector. “We figured it was about time to cement an alliance between our two kingdoms. Besides, I think it’s working quite well - my boy seems absolutely head over heels for her.”

Peter let out an undignified squeak. “Dad, that’s - that’s uh.” He chuckled awkwardly. He was unsure of whether it was acceptable to joke around with his father again, or if it was too early, and would only worsen his future punishment. “It’s a bit early to say. We’ve known each other for less than a week.”

“Nonsense,” Ego laughed. “Remember when you were a kid? You loved going on and on about finding your ‘true love’ like in those books your mom read to you. And you’ve been making eyes at her the whole time she’s been here. Father’s intuition, Peter.” He tapped on his temples knowingly. Peter sunk a little in his seat, looking over to Yondu, who looked to be enjoying himself way too much. Gamora herself looked a little disturbed.

The Collector seemed intrigued but thankfully decided not to pry any further. He spun suddenly to look at the women behind him. “Carina! Ophelia! Why are we keeping our hosts waiting? Bring them the displays they have been so patiently waiting for.”

The women startled as if they had been hit before scrambling for the large crate behind them, unbuckling the straps that bound it in place. The sides of the crate crashed onto the ground with an echoing whump, revealing a large glass box. Inside that box appeared to be a revolving orb, glowing a rich, vibrant purple. The Collector snapped his fingers, and the orb suddenly came to life, projecting a rotation of images about five feet above the box. Pictures of floral displays and sculptures more elaborate than the last, table settings and matching curtains, the sort of excessive luxury that made Gamora feel incredibly out of her element. Still, she knew she couldn’t afford another misstep, now that she had tested the boundaries of Ego’s patience. Play along, Gamora, Thanos’s voice murmured in her ear. It’s imperative that they trust you are nothing more than the prince’s betrothed. If you give up the game, know that if they do not punish you, I certainly will.

“Well then, why don’t we take a closer look? Shall we?” Ego got to his feet, rubbing his hands in anticipation. Peter and Mantis automatically stood as well, so Gamora rose to follow them.

It was unlike any mission she had ever been on before, this touch-and-go mimicry of the customs and socialization of these people she still knew almost nothing about. Not that Gamora was entirely unused to this - out of all of Thanos’s children, she was considered to be the best with people, not that that was saying much. She knew how to manipulate people, lure them into a false sense of security. But this was something else entirely, watching the Celestial royal family as they oohed and ahhed over embossed nameplates, smile in delight as the Collector described the intricacies of cutlery in detail. Even Peter, who had been shaking like a leaf not thirty minutes ago at breakfast, was now clapping his father on the shoulder, doubled over in laughter in response to an inside joke as if nothing had happened.

Gamora thought back to how all her previous jobs had gone - find the target, then hurt, torture, or kill the target. Done. It was like clockwork, with the only real variation being who, where, and why, none of which really mattered in the end, not when one was as skilled as she was. Despite its horrifying implications, she liked the routine of those tasks, the expectation of how it was all going to play out. This right here, this was unpredictable and impulsive and rash, and maybe it explained why she was holding her breath like she was drowning and had no idea how long it would take to get to the surface.

“Hey. Hey, Gamora.” Peter appeared in front of her, concerned. “Man, you’re really zoning out today. C’mon, let’s get this over with and then we can go, okay?”

“Right.” She swallowed. “Right, my apologies.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he frowned. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t I?” she said hoarsely. He looked at her curiously, opening his mouth as if to ask her something, before Ego began calling them over again, gesturing at another projection of what appeared to be an ice sculpture of Peter and Gamora in a loving embrace. She stepped closer, nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. Now wasn’t the time for her to reflect on what she had done. Focus on what you have to do, she told herself firmly. Have your moment after the deed is done. After Thanos is dead. Only then, do you deserve to celebrate. ______

As the day dragged on, Gamora couldn’t help but feel drained. Not from physical exhaustion - that was a sensation that often eluded her in favor of adrenaline - but from keeping up appearances, matching the sort of energy expected out of Peter and Mantis at all times. She had two more appointments to go - in a way, she was grateful that Ego had insisted on everything being done in a single day, rather than let it carry over the entire span of the week - before she would be free to do as she pleased once again.

The dress fitting - well, she didn’t really want to talk about it. The dressmaker was a defector from the Sovereign who, despite having nothing but ill will for her people, still had every bit of arrogance and attitude that they were known for, commenting on how the swell of Gamora’s muscle definition, particularly in her biceps and thighs, were “unsightly for an otherwise semi-attractive woman such as herself”. Gamora almost started to consider decking the woman in the face, but she wasn’t about to let her temper get the best of her again. And yes, her dress was ostentatiously gold. Seriously, she didn’t want to talk about it.

The last appointment of the day was when she was reunited with Peter. She found herself surprisingly relieved upon seeing him again, smiling tentatively and bowing in greeting, something that seemed to please Ego. Peter bowing back, almost teasingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth, caught both Ego and Gamora off-guard, her smile growing slightly wider as he straightened back up.

After their miscommunication from a couple days ago, once they had reached a better understanding of each other’s intentions, he was a comforting presence among her uncertainty about Mantis and Yondu, and her dread whenever Ego was nearby. Peter was pleasant company, if a little scatterbrained at times. He was clever enough, a natural conversationalist who seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and admittedly very easy on the eyes (Gamora might have been secretly pleased by the tightness of his dress shirt from last night’s dinner). If he were any less amicable, she might have fled a while ago, but something about his demeanor told her that he was trustworthy.

“Cake?” Gamora said slowly. She was staring down the length of the dining table, astonished to find it entirely covered in more dessert than she had consumed in her lifetime.

“You say that like you’ve never seen it before,” Peter commented with a chuckle.

“I practically haven’t,” she replied firmly. “Cake isn’t something that’s easy to come by when one lives the way I do. And I haven’t had any since arriving.” The two dessert chefs who were standing dutifully beside the table looked somewhat offended by her confession.

“Well, then - allow me to introduce it to you,” Peter said. The chefs eyed him apprehensively as he picked up the large knife and sliced into the closest dessert, a vibrant red velvet cake topped with chocolate shavings. He passed her the plate with a hopeful smile, while she accepted it gingerly as if it were a small animal, ready to attack. Ego had since walked over to the head of the table as always, watching her expectantly. “Hey...do you trust me?”

“Marginally,” she said half-teasingly, before taking a tentative bite. She chewed slowly, consideringly. “It’s a bit sweet for my taste. I don’t really have sugar that often. It’s alright, I suppose.”

“Wait!” Peter exclaimed, moving to cut a different cake. The chefs looked to be considering leaving the room entirely since he was so insistent on taking their job. “Maybe you’ll like fruit better - natural sugars - try this.”

To Gamora’s dismay, the moment she took a bite of the second slice - some yaro concoction, oozing with a generous helping of jam - Peter seemed to have taken it as a cue to start cutting pieces from everything on the table, piling it onto an enormous plate. He brought it back to her with a brightness in his eyes, not unlike a child who was incredibly eager to show their playmate all their toys at once.

She tried her hardest not to smile at his enthusiasm. “If your goal was to make sure I’m too full for dinner, you’re certainly on your way,” she replied, though she accepted the new plate. Part of her felt ridiculous - what was she doing here, picking out flower arrangements and curtains, eating cake and tasting appetizers, like it was all she had to worry about? But then she cast a spare glance across the room with Ego, who nodded at her in what she supposed he thought to be solidarity. Right, that was the mission. Pretend like she wasn’t planning a revolution behind his back. She turned towards Peter before she could let everything she was feeling show on her face. “Are you not having any?”

“I already know which one I like,” he shrugged, pointing at a generous slice of perhaps the most modest-looking cake on her plate. Yellow cake, white frosting - no sprinkles or shavings, no fruit or chocolate, just cake. “All these recipes are from Terran cookbooks that I found at Nova trading posts. A little slice of home. But this cake? This is the one my mom taught me how to make. Or, she tried. I wouldn’t really sit still long enough to help measure out the ingredients, or stir, or any of that. But it’s a good memory.”

“Well, I have no sentimental attachment to any of these. So why don’t we go with yours?” She took a bite of the yellow cake, smiling a little as she did. “Besides, I like it. Simple, unfussy. Sweet, but not overly so. Your mother had good taste.”

“You still haven’t had any of the others yet,” Peter reminded her, though his gaze softened as he said it.

“I don’t have to,” she said quietly. “I’ll defer to you. Just this once, though. Don’t get used to it.” He chuckled in response, ducking his head bashfully.

It was then that Ego strolled over to them as casually as he could manage, apparently having become restless observing them from afar. “Have you told her about your mother, Peter?” He slung an arm over both their shoulders, jostling Gamora’s plate somewhat. “She was a beauty, that Meredith Quill. Clever, funny. A real sweetheart. I called her my river lily.”

“That’s great, Dad,” Peter said loudly, stepping out of his grasp. Gamora followed suit, wincing when she noticed some of the icing had smeared onto her jacket sleeve. “Okay, we’ve got decorations and food out of the way, Gamora’s got her dress and I’ve got my suit. Are we, uh, are we good to go?”

Ego looked at him curiously before stepping back. “Alright, I can take a hint,” he laughed, holding up his hands in defeat. “You want dear old Dad to leave you alone with your girl, I get it. I don’t blame you, son. She’s a real keeper, hey?” Peter chuckled weakly as he internally winced. “I’ll be back for the wedding, Peter, I promise. I wouldn’t miss my boy’s big day for the world!” He squeezed Peter’s shoulder one last time. “Say goodbye to Mantis for me, will you? And don’t burn the kingdom down while I’m gone.”

“Ha,” Peter said uncertainly as Ego strolled away, whistling once more. It was the same tune he seemed to whistle all the time, not that Gamora could identify what it was, or if it was significant at all. “Wait, Dad! The guest list.”

Ego paused, though he didn’t turn around. “Why don’t you ask Yondu? After all, I saw him sniffing around my study yesterday. Remind him not to do it again, will you? He should really know better.”

“I - Yes, Dad.” Peter coughed. “Have a good trip.” Ego nodded sharply before continuing out of the room. Peter then turned to look at the chefs, who looked just about as awkward as he felt. “Oh, you’re, uh, you’re dismissed. Thank you for all the cake, it was awesome as always. And please, take the rest of the week off. You guys are gonna be so worn out on the day of the wedding.”

“But, your highness - ” one of them began, astonished.

“It’s your son’s birthday tomorrow, right, Cosima? And he likes chocolate cake, if I remember correctly.” He gestured towards the table of untouched dessert. “Listen, take it all and give it to your families, and everyone who’s working the wedding, alright? Don’t let my dad’s obsession with making our wedding perfect take over your lives. Have some fun, on me!”

Both chefs looked uneasily at each other before looking at Gamora as well, apparently seeking her approval. “Where I come from, we know to never waste food,” Gamora added. “It would be a shame to see your hard work go to waste.”

“Yes, your highnesses,” the chefs chimed, relieved. They left to fetch their kitchen assistants, but not before bowing to Peter and Gamora, huge smiles on their faces.

Gamora turned towards Peter. “Generous of you. I’m impressed. And how did you remember the chef’s son so well?”

“He was one of the first births in our kingdom,” Peter explained. “His mother was working as a server at the time. She always slipped me extra servings of dessert at dinner. I remember making Yondu drag me to her room a few days after her son was born, and apparently, the first thing I said was ‘I thought babies were s’posed to be cute’.”

She snorted. “How tactful. You never really quite understood the concept of ‘think before you speak’, did you?”

“Hey, it’s all part of my charm,” he grinned. “So, what should we do now?”

“Something actually useful,” she suggested, setting her plate down. “Training?” ______

The two of them returned to Peter’s quarters, grateful to finally be alone. Granted, Gamora had suggested they invite the rest of their group along, but to her surprise, Peter had been thinking further ahead than she realized. He had asked Kraglin to escort the others to the armory and set up a secret storage area for their weapons and technology, especially Rocket’s impressive arsenal of guns. So now, it was just the two of them, and they were both surprisingly comfortable with the idea.

It was their first proper training session after the madness of their first few days together, and Peter found himself looking forward to it. Aside from Gamora’s rather unsavory reputation that he now knew to never bring up, he could only imagine the sort of things she could teach him, what he could be capable of under her tutelage. “So, what’s first? Punches? Kicks? How to kill a dude with just one finger?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him as she snapped her glove straps into place. “I’m not sure what scenario you’re imagining in which you have to kill a...man with one finger. Where are the rest of your fingers?”

“The dude would’ve cut ‘em off. That’s why I have to kill him,” he said seriously. She fixed him with another blank stare before snorting and shaking her head.

“No, Quill, that’s not what we’re focusing on. Like I said before, you’ve clearly got a natural inclination for combat and a decent skill set already, you just need the discipline. You need to anticipate your opponent’s next move before they themselves know what they’re doing.” She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, stretching out her torso as she did, arms held high above her head. Peter tried to mimic her movements, though he certainly didn’t have her flexibility. “You also said you know how to fight as long as the other person isn’t fighting dirty. Well, if you’re fighting for your life, all moves can come into play, honorable or not.”

“So if I were fighting you, for example…” He cut himself off with a groan as the muscle in his lower back spasmed from his stretching. “...I could totally pull your hair.”

She stepped closer to him, her gaze traveling up his body in consideration. She tried her best not to let her eyes linger, or surely he’d tease her for it. “If you pull my hair…” she said slowly. Without warning, she kicked out one leg from under him. “...I guarantee your inability to ever have children.” He collapsed in a panting heap on the ground, clutching at the sudden ache in his crotch. “Understood?”

“Yes,” he grunted. “That was...ow.”

“Eloquent,” she drawled, offering a hand to pull him up. He accepted it with a disgruntled huff, only for her to flip him back down once more and pin him in a headlock.

“Ahh!” Peter yelped. He grasped fruitlessly at her arm to no avail, her vice-like grip too solid for him to do anything but paw at her defeatedly. “You are...relentless.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Gamora smirked, releasing him. He stumbled to his feet, somewhat dazed from the lack of oxygen. “And you have to be when your entire life is a kill-or-be-killed scenario. Has there ever been any sort of major conflicts here? War, famine, treason?”

He straightened up, though he was still seeing spots. “No, nothing like that.”

“So then why do you have any fight training to begin with? I can’t imagine your father found value in investing the time for you to train since you supposedly have an army.”

Peter smiled at that. “Nah, not Dad. Yondu. He, uh...well, I’m not gonna get into his story, but he’s a damn good fighter. When he was taking me here, from Terra, I asked him if he could teach me some moves. After a while, I think a part of him wished I became a Ravager instead of a prince. I was a skinny kid. Woulda been good for thievin’.”

“That’s where the story doesn’t quite add up for me,” Gamora admitted, dropping her defensive stance entirely. “Your father is clearly a resourceful man. I mean no offense to Yondu, but why did Ego send a criminal to pick you up instead of returning to Terra himself?”

“He said...he said he couldn’t bear the idea of being back on an Earth where my mother wasn’t living anymore. But I was the one who had to watch her die. And...I don’t know which is worse. Being right there, or not being there at all.”

“I had to watch my family die as well.” She slowly sat on the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest. “So forgive me for saying your father has no grounds for his point of view. It’s the kind of trauma no person should ever have to live with.”

He chuckled, sitting across from her. “Y’know, I’m starting to think this room is cursed. Every single time we’re in here, we end up talking about pretty serious stuff. But as long as this doesn’t end in you throwing a knife at me again, I don’t mind.”

She looked almost embarrassed as she hung her head. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Quill. I spend so much time lecturing Nebula for being irrational, but I realize that my temper is just as bad. It’s something I’m working on, for when I’m...my new self, I suppose. Whatever you want to call it.”

Peter tilted his head slightly as he observed her. There was an unusual softness in the way she held herself, her shoulders loose, her palms open and draped absentmindedly over her knees. The calluses on her fingertips, the scarring on her knuckles, had faded a little bit since the day of her arrival. He couldn’t have ever imagined her to show such vulnerability around him, around anyone, but maybe she had no one to talk to like this. Not when her people were so different from her, not when her sister was more similar than she wanted to admit. It was then that Peter realized, for all of her bravado, the confidence that he had recognized in her the very first time they met, it was rooted in loneliness. And if she was starting to feel connected to him, whether because of their impending plans, by circumstance, or whatever else it could possibly be, he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to help. “Well...what else does your new self wanna do?”

“What do you mean?” She lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“I guess...hobbies? New skills you wanna pick up?” He shrugged. “Whatever you can think of, really.”

“You say that like I have a chance at a normal life after all of this, whatever ‘normal’ means,” Gamora replied. “Trust me, I have no illusion of being accepted into society after our fathers are dead. I’m sure there’s a place for me in Sakaar, where I’ll spend the rest of my days fighting for my life. It’s nothing new. It’ll be a comfort, even.”

Peter frowned. “Look, I don’t know if Nova Prime’s offer still stands after what happened last night, but what she said about me? That’s still real. I’ll advocate for you. I’ll make sure people know that it was your idea in the first place.”

She blinked, surprised. “...then I’ll ask you the same thing I asked her. You barely know me, Quill, so why would you waste your time trying to help me? And don’t give me that ‘clean slate’ crap.”

“You’re right. I don’t know you that well,” he agreed. “But you’ve said and done enough for me to already know that you’re a good person. With good intentions. And you deserve a better life than the one you’ve been dealt.”

“And what of your plans afterwards?” she asked. For a moment, she thought of reacting to what he had said - in her mind, it was an utterly undeserved kindness. She could already see so much of the goodness in Peter that others had spoken of, that she couldn’t see how he thought the same of her. Part of her was also suspicious about Ego’s light-hearted teasing - did Peter truly have romantic feelings for her? Was that part of his goal here, to win her over with generous words? It was too early to tell, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she liked the idea or not just yet. “To be blunt, you’ll be a prince without a kingdom.”

“I’d like to think a kingdom is more about its people than a place,” Peter shrugged. “Maybe I’ll keep watch over ‘em, wherever they end up. If they’ll still have me, that is.” His eyes lit up. “Hey, you haven’t met the people yet! We should do that while Dad’s away.”

“You really think they’ll accept me?” Gamora said dubiously. “There hasn’t even been an official announcement of our engagement.”

“Then we’ll do it tomorrow, first thing. Kill two birds with one stone!” At her alarmed expression, he added, “Terran expression. Sorry, I forget sometimes.”

“Forget that I’m not Terran?” she said, confused.

“Forget that we haven’t known each other that long. We’ve spent so much time together already, it’s like you’ve been here for months, not days,” he confessed, getting to his feet. Once again, Gamora wasn’t sure how to feel about that just yet, though she was also starting to forget what her daily life had been like before coming here. For all of her worries and stresses about how to behave, there was also something soothing about not hiding out in some safehouse for days, or sneaking through an alleyway, or wherever the future scene of her crime took place. Being here was downright cozy in comparison. “C’mon, let’s get back to it. I thought you wanted to discipline me.” He paused. “That sounded less weird in my head.”

“I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear you. I’m getting the feeling I’ll be doing that often,” she sighed as she got up as well. “Alright then, start with your feet at about hip-width apart…” ______

Dinner was decidedly more pleasant than the previous few nights, now that Ego was away. Instead of eating in the dining hall, Peter had requested the chefs make some of his favorite homestyle Terran meals and bring them to his quarters instead. Their entire group gathered in the sitting room, sprawled across the many couches and chairs, as they made small talk and greedily gulped down every last bite.

“I still can’t believe you’re gettin’ married, Gam,” Rocket said as he began licking his paws clean. Peter wondered if it would be condescending to offer him a napkin. “I know it’s an arrangement and all, but geez, you were just slayin’ a bunch of A’askavariians two weeks ago when they sold out the big guy for a lousy hundred thousand units. And now we’re gonna watch you walk down the aisle!”

“I remember that job. You were absolutely drenched in blood,” Drax nodded, taking another generous bite of his meatloaf. “It was quite the sight, Quill. You should have seen it. There is no one more formidable than your wife-to-be.”

Gamora glanced over at Peter, somewhat worried - the last thing she needed was for him to get spooked by reminders of her violent tendencies again - but he was just grinning, awestruck. “That sounds badass,” he said cheerfully. “Kinda gross, but badass. So were all of you there?”

“Yes. We tend to travel together. Gamora and Nebula are sent on missions as a pair quite often, and so Groot and I accompany them to keep an eye on them both,” Drax explained. “Rocket just tags along because - “

“ - because I can,” Rocket boasted. “Big man don’t mind me. And he don’t scare me, either.”

“You should be scared of Thanos. I’d frankly consider it unhealthy if you didn’t,” Gamora said, poking him with her fork. She turned back to Peter. “We have other siblings, but we don’t speak of them. The Black Order...they are much more physically intimidating than Nebula and I, but we have the better track record with our father. He also acquired both of us around the same time, which is why we’re thrown together more often than not.”

“Yes, except we all know Thanos favors you over any other,” Nebula snorted as she took a sip of her drink. “It’s no wonder Korath tried to kill you so often.”

“And failed every single time, so clearly he should feel threatened by me,” Gamora retorted. “We’re not discussing this now, Nebula.”

“Why, because you don’t want your husband to know all of your dirty secrets?” Nebula shot back.

“I am Groot,” Groot said sternly, planting himself on the couch, firmly settled between the sisters. They both let out grunts of annoyance as he squished them into armrests with his overly large (and rather prickly) elbows.

“Yeah, can you two relax for a second? We got plenty of time to fight later, when we’re actually fighting for our lives,” Rocket snapped. “Right now, I just want more of this.” He held up his beer stein above his head as if it were a glorious trophy. “You mind getting me a refill, Quill?”

Peter rolled his eyes as he held out his hand, drawing slow, circular motions with his pointer finger as the glass slowly filled itself to the brim. “Y’know, I’m starting to think you guys like me for what I can do, and not for who I am.”

“Who said anything about liking you?” Rocket snarked, though he clapped Peter heartily on the back in what Peter suspected was meant to be reassurance, though the claw pinpricks in his spine made him wince.  “Besides, the only one of us that’s really hung out with you at all is Gamora. But you should be honored, man. She usually hates everyone.”

“I have no patience for anyone,” Gamora corrected, smirking. “Quill is no exception.”

“Trust me, girl, that don’t wear off,” Yondu said dryly. “Oh, the stories I could tell about ‘im when he was a boy.”

“Now you’re speaking my language!” Rocket said heartily, slamming his mug against the table with vigor. The beer sloshed all over the rim, splattering over his paw, but he didn’t seem to notice. “All we ever heard before coming here was goody-two-shoes Prince Peter. Gimme the real dirt!”

“I, too, am intrigued,” Drax added, leaning forward in anticipation.

“I have stories, too!” Mantis piped up. “There is plenty to say about Peter from when we were children.”

“I feel so betrayed,” Peter sighed.

As Yondu and Mantis began telling the others about the time Peter had decided to run around the palace naked on a dare (Kraglin, who had also been a young boy at the time, thought it would have been hilarious - spoiler alert, it was), Peter moved to sit at Gamora’s feet, giving her a tentative smile when she glanced down. Deciding she’d had enough of Groot’s intrusion of her personal space, she moved to join him, finding herself oddly comforted by her shoulder brushing against his. “Why am I not surprised you were a problem child?” she whispered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m clearly perfect,” Peter replied softly. She laughed before she could stop herself. “I can’t believe our friends are bonding over embarrassing secrets about me and dirty secrets about you.”

“We’re hardly a conventional group of people, so it’s natural to bond over unconventional things,” she shrugged. “If it means we perform better as a team, then so be it.”

“Wasn’t even thinking about the plan, to be honest. I was just thinking it’d be nice to have more friends.” He stared at the dredges of his drink in the bottom of his glass. “It’s only been me, Yondu, Mantis, and Kraglin this whole time. Even then, I don’t see Kraglin much anymore, ever since he got promoted.”

“Can we really afford to be friends, though?” Gamora said quietly. “There’s so much at stake. If we were emotionally attached to each other - any of us, I mean - wouldn’t it make it that much harder?”

“Friends are what kept me sane all these years,” Peter replied. “Don’t you feel the same way about yours? Your sister?”

“They’re my subjects, not my friends,” she said cooly, though one cursory glance at her face told him otherwise. “And my sister and I have a complicated history. I wouldn’t call it friendship.”

“What about - ”

“You?” She looked him up and down again, this time more thoroughly. He squirmed a little under her gaze. “We’re engaged by necessity. That doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”

“Uh, well…” Peter trailed off for a moment, surprised by how much her words had cut him. Once again, just when he thought they were getting somewhere, she was leaving him behind instead. “We don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to, but if it’s just by principle of not wanting any no matter what - ”

“I thought we were done challenging each other’s values, Quill,” she interrupted, trying to keep her voice as level as possible. Around them, their friends were bursting into laughter at Yondu and Mantis’s anecdote, oblivious to their conversation. “I told you, sentiment is a weakness. It’s toxic. I accepted a long time ago that I was no longer going to let it into my life. It’s nothing personal when I say I only want to be allies and not friends. So just drop it, okay?”

“Fine.” He turned to look down at his own hands, twisting feverishly in his lap, sans light. “Sorry.”

He supposed there was only so much he could expect from her, having lived her entire life not knowing who to trust. To her, he was probably just another temporary face in the crowd, a means to an end. Still, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. There was something so enigmatic about her, and whenever she was around, he found himself really enjoying her company. But if she was really this insistent on keeping their relationship strictly professional, he wasn’t about to attempt anything otherwise.

“You two arguin’ again? We don’t have time for this,” Yondu complained, plopping down on the couch where Gamora had been sitting and propping his feet up on the coffee table next to Peter’s head. “I’d say you’re like an old married couple, but you ain’t even married yet.”

“The wedding is only meant to signify our compliance,” Gamora retorted, turning to look up at him. “Don’t look too far into it, Yondu.”

“And we’re making our engagement public tomorrow,” Peter added, brightening slightly. “Yondu, you can make all the arrangements, right?”

“I really do gotta do everything around here,” Yondu said resignedly, taking another swig of his beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it.” ______

As Gamora got ready the following morning, grateful for the loose-fit clothes that Mantis had slipped her last night after complaining about the weird wardrobe Ego had provided her, she found herself curious about how they were going to make their engagement known to the Celestial people. The emptiness surrounding the palace still gave her the shivers, extending out so far that she couldn’t see another building for miles.

She joined Peter, Yondu, and Mantis in the sitting room, following them silently through the palace corridors to the gardens. She watched in confusion as Yondu and Peter slipped behind one of the tall hedges by the border, pushing the leaves aside to reveal a bolted door. The group made their way inside and down a metal staircase, which led them to -

“Ships? You have ships. And you didn’t think to mention this before,” Gamora said incredulously.

The four of them stood in what appeared to be a modest-sized underground loading bay, boasting a fleet of somewhat dumpy-looking M-ships in varying dull shades of gray and brown. There were a handful of guards milling about, wearing what looked more like mechanic uniforms instead of the standard issue worn by the palace attendants. Despite everything looking a little worse for the wear, it was definitely more high-tech than anything she had seen above the surface, though all the colors were much more subdued (as in, not a trace of gold to be seen), aside from one particularly garish M-ship that certainly wasn’t to her taste.

“We’re taking my ship,” Peter said, pointing to the aforementioned garish ship. It had a blue and orange paint job, and was remarkably clean in comparison to the others. Gamora suspected it spoke more to his vanity than his discipline. “The Milano.”

“You’ll be sorry you kept this from Rocket. He’s an expert pilot,” Gamora said as they walked over.

“Bet he’s not as good as me,” Peter boasted as the landing ramp of the Milano slowly lowered itself down to welcome them aboard. “I’m kind of the best there is.”

“And so modest,” she sighed, taking a few tentative steps inside and looking around curiously. Oddly enough, it was the opposite of Peter’s quarters and yet shared certain commonalities. While his rooms were warm and homely, the Milano was like most spacecraft - grays and browns and blues, its structure mostly consisting of metal walls and floors. However, there were still things scattered everywhere like Peter’s sitting room as well - books, gadgets, food that left a plethora of awful smells, the works.

Peter and Yondu went up the ladder to the cockpit, chatting amicably on the way. Gamora watched them in uncertainty before Mantis gave her a friendly squeeze on the arm, her eyes bright. “There is plenty of room up there for us to join them,” she said cheerfully. “You will love the view of the planet once we are in flight. Come on!”

Gamora was admittedly impressed once she did make her way upstairs, glancing around in wonder at the large windows that encased them. Peter and Yondu seemed to be bickering at the controls, though Peter paused to turn and wave at the girls before going back to nitpicking at the way Yondu was sitting. “Alright, alright, enough of this. You two better buckle up before we take off, don’t want any injuries!” Peter called.

An hour passed before they touched down in Id, which Peter explained was considered to be the capital of Ego’s planet, though he also added that the title was somewhat irrelevant, considering the entirety of the planet had been populated at approximately the same time. Gamora was still uncertain of how exactly they maintained order - regions, cities, towns, how could they possibly govern it all? - but after everything she and Peter had talked about regarding his father, the legitimacy of the planet and the happiness of his people never came into question.

Id was just about as vibrant as she expected, and just a touch gaudy, the streets paved with glittering tile, buildings boasting golden columns and intricate detailing. There was a richness in the landscaping that had been present at the palace, impossibly vibrant blooms of flowers and carefully maintained trees and bushes lining the pavement. People were going about their day, many of them dressed as luxuriously as their rulers, whether they were on foot or in open-air vehicles. As the Milano touched down in the landing bay, located right by the city hall’s gardens, some nearby civilians paused to watch, whispering excitedly amongst themselves as they cautiously moved closer.

The loading dock lowered slowly, allowing Peter and Mantis to descend first, waving enthusiastically to their people. Gamora followed next, though she stepped a little lighter than they had, with Yondu bringing up the rear, nodding at her when she turned to look at him warily.

“Your highnesses!” one woman called out from behind the garden’s fences. “It’s so good to see you both.” The young children hanging on to her skirts slipped through the gate and ran towards their leaders with a joyful whoop, though the guard standing by didn’t seem all too concerned. They wrapped their little arms around Peter and Mantis’s legs, giggling happily.

“Hey, guys,” Peter grinned, ruffling their hair affectionately. “How’re you doing? How’s school?”

“Good,” they chimed shyly, beaming up at them with bright eyes. Mantis reached out to run a gentle thumb over their temples, antennae alight.

“You have both been very good students and very good children,” she informed them cheerfully. “That is good to know. Can’t have you causing trouble for your mother, hm?”

“Yes, your highness,” the boy promised. “I got full marks on my last math test! Mom was really happy when I brought it home.”

“How amazing, Leo!” Mantis exclaimed. “You were having trouble a few months ago with your long division, right? Then you must have made so much progress since I last saw you. She must be so proud of you. I am proud of you.”

“And how was your dance recital, Kira?” Peter asked the girl who was attached to his hip. “Sorry I missed it - we had some stuff going on. Boring royalty stuff,” he added, winking.

Gamora quirked an eyebrow at this - she hadn’t expected them to know their people so intimately. Ego, maybe, since he probably had the considerable advantage of being fully Celestial, possessing an above-average memory. But Peter and Mantis were chatting with these children as if they were just next-door neighbors.

A crowd was beginning to form by now, necks craning to get a good look at the new arrivals. Most people only had eyes for Peter and Mantis, calling out to them in excitement, though there were some curious onlookers sizing up Gamora as well, trying to figure out who she was. Yondu reached out to squeeze her elbow unexpectedly. When she turned back to look at him, he gave her what she supposed was meant to be a comforting smile. “You gonna be okay, girl. Just follow Quill and Mantis’s lead, you’ll be jus’ fine.”

After another minute or two of overenthusiastic civilians talking their ears off, Peter finally managed to weave his way through the sea of people, guiding the others towards the front of city hall and up the impressive stairs. An assistant appeared out of nowhere with an official podium, and the herald stepped forward, bowing in respect as the four of them took their places before speaking into the microphone. “Presenting Your Royal Highnesses, Prince Peter and Princess Mantis!”

“Hello, everyone!” Peter called cheerfully, waving out to the adoring crowd. “I’ve got some, uh, some pretty exciting news to share with you all.” He paused dramatically, watching everyone’s faces light up in anticipation. “I’m getting married in four days!” There was an immediate ripple of cheering and whooping - even the children looked enthused by the idea. “You guys know how Dad’s always...looking out for me. He heard about this amazing woman from another powerful kingdom and thought she would be the perfect match, both for me and for our planet’s future. And we’ve been getting to know each other for a little while now - ” Less than a week, more like, Gamora thought to herself “ - and I gotta say, I think Dad was on to something.” Peter extended a hand towards Gamora, gesturing for her to stand beside him at center stage. Trembling with nerves, she took the last few steps, the backs of their hands brushing ever-so-slightly as she did. “Meet Princess Gamora of the Titans, my fiancée and future Princess of the Celestials!”

There was a horribly drawn-out pause - at least, that’s what it had felt like in Gamora’s mind. In reality, it was perhaps no more than two seconds - before a chorus of applause broke out over the crowd, though not as enthusiastic as Peter had been hoping for. It sounded almost hesitant, but he suspected it was more in response to the mention of her home planet, and not Gamora herself. After all, if he had never heard her name, only her title, before they first met, he wouldn’t be surprised if no one knew who she really was.

“You wanna say anything?” he murmured without turning to look at her.

“I’d rather not,” she whispered back. The uncertainty on the crowd’s faces told her that nothing she said was going to change their mind about her, or at the very least, where she came from. Regardless of her own past, the reputation of the Titans was something she would never be able to shake, innocent or not. Peter turned to look at her curiously, looking almost disappointed, before turning back to wave as if nothing had happened, grinning widely at his people.

Gamora remained behind with Yondu as the siblings descended the stairs to chat with their people once more. She watched as they both practically glowed with excitement, embracing adults and children alike, or just enthusiastically nodding their heads as their subjects rambled on about the newest community events or how their businesses were prospering. “It seems irresponsible for them to travel without a member of the guard,” she commented. “They may seem universally beloved by your people, but - ”

“Who’s to say they don’t got someone lookin’ out for ‘em?” Yondu snorted, patting the yaka arrow on his hip. “You ain’t seen me in action yet, Gamora. It’s a damn fine sight to see, you can hold me to it.”

“Have you ever considered committing treason against Ego?” she asked, quieter now. “You taught Quill how to fight, after all. And I’ve had many a time where I considered driving my sword through Thanos’s skull, not that I’d ever get close enough to do it.”

“Sure, I think about it sometimes. But I’m not stupid enough to kill all of us in the process. The whole dang planet would explode,” he chuckled softly. “My loyalties lie with the kids, and they been loyal to Ego up until now. Y’know, I still find it crazy you managed to get that boy to consider doing something he shoulda thought about a long time ago. Now, I’m no parentin’ expert, but I can tell Ego’s not doing it right. No good father would ever act the way he do.”

“I can tell they both think highly of you,” Gamora said consolingly. There was something about the anger burning in Yondu’s eyes, both now and from a couple nights ago, that told her of his true intentions. Despite being an ex-Ravager captain, at his core, he seemed like the kind of person she wanted on her side. “You said it yourself - you practically had more of a hand in raising them than Ego did.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t their daddy.” Yondu looked almost saddened at having to admit such a thing. Before Gamora could inquire further, Peter came jogging back up the stairs to join them, oblivious to Yondu’s troubled expression.

“Hey, so the people have been asking for us to stay in Id tonight. They wanna throw us an engagement party,” Peter said excitedly. He was practically bouncing on his toes in elation. “We can send a ship to bring your people over to join us. I’m in if you are!”

She eyed him speculatively. “I thought we were going to go over our weaponry cache today,” she replied.

He faltered. “Yeah, I guess I forgot about that. Well, we can - ”

“ - but you wanted me to properly engage with your people for the time being, present ourselves as a united front. I imagine this would be my best opportunity since you said the wedding would be nothing short of chaotic,” she finished, giving him a small smile. “Weapons can wait until tomorrow. Rocket won’t be very happy about that.”

“There’ll be free booze?” he offered tentatively, grin widening.

“Then never mind, our change in plans should suit him nicely,” she chuckled. “When and where is this party being held?”

“Starting around dinnertime, in City Square. It’s about a dozen blocks over from here,” Peter explained, pointing into the distance. “In the meantime, I’ll get us a car and show you the sights! It’s way more awesome out here than in the palace, believe me.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she admitted. “I am getting a little tired of being cooped up, working on our...plan, all the time. I guess I should enjoy the fresh air while I can.”

“That’s the spirit!” Yondu hooted, pumping a triumphant fist in the air. They both startled at the sound of his voice, having completely forgotten he was there. In all honesty, Peter had gotten a little caught up in the vibrancy of Gamora’s hair in the morning sun, trying his best not to stare. “And how about I go get the car? You always ask ‘em for that gaudy ol’ thing that don’t got any sort of protection at all.”

“It’s Dad’s car, so you try telling him that!” Peter called after Yondu’s retreating back as he disappeared down the stairs to fetch the attendant. “Well. Okay, then. Ready to live a little?”

“I’d hate to see what your idea of ‘living a little’ is, but it’s too late for me. I’ve already agreed,” Gamora said, smirking. “Lead the way, Quill.” ______

Gamora found herself surprised by her surroundings as they began making their way through the city on foot, having been dropped off further away from its center. Yondu had taken Mantis elsewhere after some civilians had requested she visit one of the local schools, leaving Peter and Gamora alone yet again. Considering the false decadence of the palace in contrast to its stark environment, she had assumed the rest of the planet would echo the very same, lacking depth, lacking life. But the streets were as lively as any other moderately populated planet, bustling with men, women, children, and occasionally animals she suspected wouldn’t live in harmony together otherwise. Most people bowed their heads as Peter passed, a few reaching out to squeeze his hand or arm in greeting every now and then, many of whom he greeted by name. No one seemed particularly intimidated by his presence, only made happier by it. It was a far cry from the way people reacted to Gamora or Nebula on Titan, the way that the slaves in Thanos’s possession (the very idea made her skin crawl) curled into themselves the moment they laid eyes on either sister.

“They look up to you,” Gamora commented as he guided her down a vacant alleyway. “But not in the way people look up to their master for guidance. More like...a revered hero, for reassurance.”

“I just want them to remember me well. To know I’m looking out for ‘em,” Peter nodded. “Can’t be a good prince if my people can’t trust me. But hey, if you wanna call me a hero, I ain’t complaining,” he added with a laugh.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Quill,” she teased, elbowing him gently. “And where are we going? Why aren’t Yondu or your sister here?”

“So many questions,” he chuckled, reaching out for her hand. “Come on, I thought you trusted me.”

“Marginally,” she repeated, though they both knew it was much more than that as she laced her fingers with his. They were pleasantly warm, a little rougher than she expected for a man of his privilege. He smiled in return before leading her into a small shop. It was dwarfed by its surroundings and utterly normal in appearance, lacking the gold detailing and sparkling tiles she had gotten so used to back in City Center. Instead, it was nondescript wood siding and scaffolding, with one small window that provided little view inside, no sign that boasted its wares or services. She would have otherwise thought it to be a house hidden among random shops.

Once they were inside, however, Gamora found herself overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things filling up its cramped quarters, teetering shelves and crooked cabinets stocked up with random trinkets and treasures, racks of used clothing and old sheets, piles and piles of tattered books stacked from floor to ceiling. There was a small, worn desk by the door, and behind it, a finely-dressed man, who bowed the moment he saw Peter step in.

“Greetings, your highness,” he said politely, straightening up. “I heard you were in Id, but I wasn’t sure if you would be stopping by.”

“Aw, Broker. I’ve always got time for you!” Peter exclaimed, reaching over to pat the older man on the shoulder. “Besides, what better time to bring my fiancée to the best shop on the whole planet than right now?”

“You flatter me, Prince Peter,” Broker replied, though he was glowing with pride. “It is lovely to meet you, your highness,” he added in Gamora’s direction, bowing to her as well. “Please let me know if you’re looking for anything in particular.”

She smiled at him cautiously, wondering when someone, anyone, was going to recognize her, before making her way through the winding maze of goods, careful not to knock anything over. “He looks familiar,” she murmured to Peter, who had followed her to the other side of the shelf, perusing a selection of novelty keyrings.

“Broker? He used to set up shop on Xandar,” Peter whispered back. “Dad invited him to bring his business here, keep him away from the crazies who attacked his place to get their hands on rare inventory. You haven’t ever...tried to...kill him, have you?”

She fixed him with a glare. “No. But I passed through Xandar before. I was told I could find an Infinity Stone there, but my source was lying,” she replied coolly. “I must have gone by his old shop or something.”

Peter nodded sheepishly, feeling a little guilty about his question. “I wasn’t kidding, by the way. This place is pretty cool - I get stuff for Yondu and Mantis from here all the time. Broker’s got tons of weapons in the back, if you wanna check those out.”

“I actually wanted to look at the books,” she said, gesturing towards the precarious stacks of volumes that looked to be defying gravity. She felt as if one wrong move would cause the entire place to collapse into itself. At his raised eyebrow, she drawled, “What, did you think I couldn’t read?”

“I just - I - well, I didn’t think Thanos would bother teaching you,” he stammered defensively, watching in fascination as she began running her fingers down the spines, tracing the faded lettering. She lingered every now and then, before decisively pulling out a few books in particular. “I didn’t think you and Nebula were savages or anything. Just, you surprise me sometimes.”

“If it’s a skill that helps me carry out my duties, then it was useful enough for him to instill it in us,” she replied. She circled around to another stack and began picking through its selection as well. “I might as well use what little free time I have here wisely. I don’t get many opportunities for leisure, and if my life here is about to become as relaxed as yours, then I should take advantage.”

He followed her, albeit at a safe distance. “You should look at what I’ve got in my study, too,” he offered. “I’ve got tons of books in there I’ve never touched. Put ‘em to good use for once.”

Gamora smiled, something soft and pretty and utterly unexpected. Despite her reservations earlier, Peter thought she looked happier today than she had been the previous five days (and oh, wow, had it really only been five?) he’d known her. “Thank you, Quill.” ______

The rest of the day went by peacefully, with Peter leading Gamora around the city, showing her the sights. It ranged from modest to ostentatious - both the places and the people. To her relief, most passersby seemed unaware of who she really was, who she was tied to. It still made her stomach twist anxiously, though, seeing what looked to be the last of individuals of races that she or Thanos had wiped out. She had to remind herself that she was trying to save everyone now, as much as it seemed like she was doing nothing of real significance, what with her dress fittings and cake tastings. But patience was key - it could be weeks, or even months before the opportunity would make itself available to them, but it was going to happen. She would make sure of it.

They reunited with Yondu and Mantis by dinner, along with the rest of Gamora’s people, in the City Square. The sun was going down, but the streets were lively as ever, music streaming through speakers mounted on every lamppost. The crowd shifted around them like a tide, sweeping their group inwards until they reached the rows upon rows of tables in the very middle of the square. The tables were covered in mismatched tablecloths and oversized bouquets of flowers. Dishware and cutlery were already set out, while people bustled in and out of nearby houses and market stalls, hefting large trays of food.

“When you said there’d be food and booze, I didn’t think it was gonna be like this,” Rocket commented. He was perched on Groot's shoulder, his line of sight far higher than anyone else’s. “I expected, I dunno, gold everything like your dumb palace. Some sparkly, wishy-washy crap.”

“This ain’t Sovereign, Rocket,” Peter laughed good-naturedly as they neared the table. The crowd didn’t seem too concerned about watching them take their seats, already disappearing to get more food or find their companions. Peter paused, glancing at the single chair at the head of the table, before reaching to pull another one around from its side. He gestured for Gamora to take a seat. “For you, Princess.”

“Are you really going to call me that in public?” she grimaced, though she sat down without further complaint. Peter and the rest of their people followed suit, filing themselves neatly on either side of the table.

“Only when necessary,” he promised with a childlike grin.

The Celestial subjects began joining them as well, setting down the last of the food before taking their seats. There had to be room for at least a hundred people, with others crowding in to serve themselves before walking away to sit on the sidewalk or the nearby benches. It was certainly one of the strangest arrangements Gamora had ever seen, with the barricades preventing vehicles from passing through as everyone flooded the streets by foot. It was more akin to a street party than the soirée she had been imagining. Peter and Mantis began dishing out their own servings, politely declining as one kindly older woman offered to help them, so Gamora followed suit.

“Does this happen often?” Drax asked after they had been eating for a few minutes. “This celebration among your people, it is similar to the war rallies of my home.”

“Not really,” Peter admitted. “We don’t have exciting stuff happen that much. Which is why we should make the most of it! Live a little, you know?”

“I would prefer to live a very long and fulfilling life,” Drax frowned. “Why would I only want to live a little?”

“No, that’s not what that - ”

“Your highness! Let us congratulate you on your engagement,” one large, boisterous man boomed from further down the table, holding a generous mug of mead in the air. “So many of us have watched you grow into a fine young man over the years - it’s a blessing to be part of this celebration, my lord. You have provided us with your good heart for so long, to see you share it with someone else is all we could ask for.” Gamora blanched a little - they did remember this was an arrangement, right?

“Thanks,” Peter said cheerfully, unfazed. “So, tell me how you guys are doing! Is everything going okay? Chancellor Yorke is taking good care of you when we’re not around, I hope.”

“She approved the new park just last week,” a different man chimed in. “My daughters will love the new play area.”

“And you should see the school over in Otto,” one woman called, waving her hand enthusiastically. “They’ve got their music education program up and running. I’m sure you would have loved to attend when you were young, your highness. Or maybe even now!”

Gamora couldn’t help but cut in, curious. “So that’s common knowledge, then? My...fiancé’s fixation on music?”

“Fixation? It’s his passion, my lady,” the woman laughed. “I remember the day our king brought him home and announced that he had finally found his beloved son. Do you recall, my lord? You were standing on the steps of the city hall like you were this morning, except your hands were in your pockets, headphones on, bopping away without a care in the world!”

“...‘bopping’?” Gamora asked skeptically.

“Dancing, Gamora,” Peter exclaimed incredulously, putting his fork down. He was looking at her like she’d grown an extra head. “You’ve never danced before?”

“You assume that I can’t read, but that I can dance. Interesting,” she deadpanned. He gave her another inquisitive look, prompting her to go on. “I was raised to be a warrior,” she continued. “I do not dance.”

As if on cue, the music grew louder, some gentle, whimsical song crooning through the speakers, filling up the tiny gaps between the multitude of conversations occurring all the way along the length of the table. She looked at Peter accusingly, but he only shrugged, having had nothing to do with it.

“Join me?” he requested, getting to his feet. He held out a hand, though his gaze fell on her face, his eyes gentle. “Or I can ask Mantis,” he added quietly. Gamora could feel the others’ eyes on them, watching expectantly.

She examined his outstretched palm for a moment, the unexpected callouses of his fingers and the slight bruise he had on his knuckle from attempting to knock her out in combat training yesterday (and failed, causing him to spiral wildly into the nearest wall). She stood as well, accepting his gesture as she did. “Your father’s probably expecting us to dance at the wedding. I’d rather embarrass myself now instead of later,” she answered, though her stomach warmed with nerves (or maybe she was just hungry. They had barely started eating, after all).

“Forget him, I want to dance at our wedding,” he laughed, squeezing once as he led her over to the crowd. “And since you’re teaching me how to fight - with discipline, as you so kindly put it - let me teach you how to dance.”

Why do birds suddenly appear...every time you are near?...just like me...they long to be...close to you…

They stood still for a moment, her eyeing him cautiously as he watched her in contemplation, before he took another step closer, his hands coming to settle on her waist. Gamora blinked in confusion before putting hers on his shoulders, and slowly, he began to move from side-to-side, his hips swaying slightly with the swell of the piano. She followed him automatically, though stiffly. Her shoulders were still bearing the weight of her discomfort from earlier, her elbows locked tight.

Why do stars fall down from the sky...every time you walk by?...just like me...they long to be...close to you…

“There doesn’t seem to be much to dancing,” she commented after a minute had passed by, unsure of where to look. Peter’s gaze remained on her face, the mischievous spark in his eyes still evident in the evening light. “We’re practically just rocking back and forth. What is there to teach?”

On the day that you were born the angels got together...and decided to create a dream come true...so, they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold...and starlight in your eyes of blue...

“Well, we’re just doin’ something simple right now,” Peter said defensively. “Wait ‘til we try something like - ”

Gamora found herself being twirled underneath his arm as he spun her out, before guiding her back into his embrace, barely giving her enough time to catch her breath. She righted herself against him, fingers digging a little deeper into his shoulders. He was warm, a little heated from all the walking they had done and the amount of body heat surrounding them, but he was steady, graceful in a way that he hadn’t been during combat practice. He fought sharply, haphazardly, flinging himself about with reckless aplomb. Here, there was a kindness in his presence that she found welcoming, a thoughtfulness in his touch.

“You look like you’re thinkin’ pretty hard about something...again,” he said half-teasingly, half-seriously. “All that stuff you were stressing out about yesterday during those dumb appointments - is that it?”

“I have a lot on my mind,” she replied quietly. “Don’t you, considering the position we’re in?”

“Sure, but I’m trying to not make it super obvious how freaked out I am. Is it working?” he grinned cheekily, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You won’t be able to charm your way out of every situation, Quill,” Gamora said sternly, though the twinkle in his irises made for a much more pleasant view than the swirling cosmos of a few days prior. “We can’t have every day be like this.”

“But...you had fun today, right?” Peter looked uncertain. “I mean, I did, and sometimes coming here’s a real drag - usually I’m with Dad, and we make official announcements and pass laws and stuff, but - ”

“I did,” she interrupted, smiling tentatively. “It was quite the tour. And I’ll admit, you make for good company.” She didn’t need to look down to feel the warm glow of his hands on her waist, pleased by her words. “Maybe friendship isn’t...entirely off the table.”

“You’re just saying that,” he chuckled bashfully.

“And I mean it,” Gamora promised. “But only because I’m feeling strangely optimistic about our chances of survival. I could use more allies once we’re on the other side of this whole ordeal. Either that or I’ve had too much wine.”

Peter pulled her in closer as they took gentle steps, circling slowly as everyone around them continued to eat, drink, and dance to their heart’s content, oblivious to their prince and his soon-to-be wife. His eyes went to the table, where their friends were, watching and smiling at them, and then to Gamora’s entirely untouched glass of wine. He smiled privately to himself, ducking his head into her hair as he did.

Just like me...they long to be...close to you...

a/n: hey, all! first, i am so sorry for this chapter being later than i originally intended, school took over and then i got the flu so i've been mentally all over the place, but i've sort of got a handle on my schedule now so hopefully i can have more realistic estimates on the next chapter.

by the way, my aim is for the next chapter to be either the week before valentine's or the week of, because chapter four is going to be the wedding!! if you have any suggestions for good love songs from the 50s to the 80s that would be great for the wedding, please let me know! i've exhausted most of my favorites in my other fic and i just love music recommendations in general haha

speaking of music, the song that peter and gamora dance to is (they long to be) close to you by the carpenters.

thank you so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and i'll see y'all in the next chapter!

[hbldr-blog]

gettingup

I have a name, a head filled with ideas, a face, and hands to type with. I'm a writer, or at least I like to think so. One day I want to tell stories through some visual medium but I mostly just laze around. It really erks me. I love to move and I love to talk; it's my favorite thing to do in the world.

Depending on when I sleep or if I sleep I usually wake up at about noon, maybe early afternoon. When I wake up I usually don't think. Some people say their first thoughts are usually reflections of who they are; the lens they put on before observing the outside world. I tend to just lay there, wondering blankly. Eventually something crosses my mind: ‘What should I do first?’ And almost every time I look at my phone.

I'll be frank, I hate looking at it. When it's off the screen becomes a mirror... a sort of humbling reminder. I'm obsessed with recognition, be it fantasies of being interviewed for a film or comic, or a person smiling fondly at me as if my presence made their day. As shallow and naive as that might sound, I like to think pretty strangers will miraculously greet me via text hoping I have a good day.

Hello Good morning! Heyyy

Nothing. Sometimes I'll get a text from my mom, or from one of my writing friends about an idea they’ve been working on. I usually ignore them. I probably shouldn't. They're very good to me. After spending half an hour lounging in bed, I start thinking about creative ways to kill myself. Sometimes for a couple of seconds... another couple of seconds. Feels more like minutes that feel like hours.

I look at the time, see that I've slept for half the day, and leave my room for the bathroom. I turn on the shower, sit on the toilet, and try to number two, but my ass appears to still be asleep. I get back up and turn off the shower, remembering that I shouldn't waste hot water. My family hates it when I do. I go back on the toilet, and try to squeeze one out but again, my ass is napping.

I go back on my phone and check Instagram, Snapchat, Messenger, and last but not least, Reddit. No notifications. Nothing out of the ordinary. I scroll through, running into pictures of exes or girls I've tried to hook up with. They're almost always smiling, enjoying life. The irrational part of my brain starts seeing this as a mocking gesture. “They don't need you,” my brain says.”They never did.”

Almost immediately my head starts playing “For No One” by The Beatles. The suicidal thoughts come back, my ass wakes up, I shit. I get up without wiping my ass thinking ‘eh, I can clean it in the shower.’ I turn on the shower, strip my clothes, and hop in. It's kind of hot so I stand to the side and wait to get used to it. I get used to it. I grab my phone, still in the shower, open up Chrome incognito mode, and masturbate. Sometimes I finish, sometimes I don’t. I used to wrestle. I learned that when you take a shower, you wash your head and hair first before your body. When you do the reverse, the gunk from your head and hair trickle down towards your body and you get ringworm and you can’t wrestle. I liked wrestling.

I get out of the shower and look for a towel. Takes about 3 seconds to realize I forgot my towel and I have to air dry. I could just get out and grab a towel. I'd dry quicker and get along with my day, but I just took a hot shower and I'm afraid of the cold air outside. It’s cool relative to my body heat which means it really isn't that cold; I'm just a lazy coward. I look at my phone: Instagram, Snapchat, Messenger, Reddit. In that order, always in that order. 

Nothing. 

I put it down. I grab a random toothbrush...usually the cleanest one. I proceed to brush my teeth; I do it in circles. When I was small I heard doing it that way is better than going up and down so I do it in circles. After I brush my teeth I rinse with water and mouthwash. I don't floss. I haven't flossed in years. I should probably floss...every time I spit after I brush my teeth I see blood. That's probably not good. 

I look up at the mirror and it’s fogged up. I wipe it. I see my eyes and the bridge of my nose. I wipe at the mirror more; now I can see my whole body. I'm not happy at what I see. I am this strange combo of skinny and fat. Skinny-fat, if you will. Worse than both skinny and fat because at least when you're fat you have a sort of circular shape. You're not tricking anybody. Everyone knows you're fat and that's okay, but when you're skinny fat you're deceiving people. Now you're not just out of shape but you're also a liar. No one likes a liar. 

 I hear banging on my bedroom door. I hear it open, then I hear the footsteps of someone coming to the bathroom, then more knocking. “Yo, you almost out?”I reply “Yeah, almost.”I'm lying, of course. I'm either going to shit or jerk off again... or both. Or get distracted by my phone again. “Okay, well you've been there for three hours, so come on. Other people gotta use it too.” It's already three. That whole morning ritual took three hours. By then I'm already dry. I try to shit again--successfully, I might add. I decide to finally leave the bathroom.

My phone goes off.I think it's a job.Or maybe some stranger who's interested in talking to me. 

Or that cute girl who I texted about poetry that never got back to me.

Or that other cute girl who I text on a regular basis but always seems aloof.

Or that other girl who doesn't seem to want to leave me alone.

Or that other cute girl who I see in my head sometimes when I’m alone and content or masturbating.I look.

 It's my mom. 

“Get out of the fucking shower”

I've been out for at least 4 minutes, I ignore it and go to my room to get dressed, put deodorant on, and do my hair. I can never get it right. There's always something wrong about it and I don't know what it is. Maybe it’s swooshed the wrong way, or I’m not using the right pomade. Maybe my hair is just bad. I get my hoodie and pjs on. I sit on my bed and look at my phone but I'm not focused on my phone. I'm stuck in thought, this time not about suicide or what I'm going to jerk off to but what I've been doing with my life. I've been doing the same routine for a year.

I wanted to be a writer.

I wanted to make film.

I wanted to be a storyteller.

What am I doing? I'm twenty years old and I'm idle. I get a notification from one of my writing friends. He tells me he has this great idea he wants to talk about. I respond with “I don't feel good, I'm sorry.” He's going to school for what we both want to do and I always feel like he's miles away from me, literally and metaphorically. I look back at my phone. It’s fallen asleep. I unlock it and it opens up to Instagram. It's a picture of a girl I've never met. She's showing her cleavage. I think to myself “That's fucking trashy.” I close out of Instagram, go to Google Chrome, go to incognito mode.

I start browsing for what I want to watch. I'm picky. But before anything can happen I hear heavy footsteps rushing towards my room. After about two seconds my brother barges through the door. My erection is hidden. I change tabs.

“Yo, can I show you my song? I need critiques.”

I get annoyed. I tell him “It's not a good time. Come back in a couple minutes.”

He starts making for the door. I feel bad. I tell him “Never mind, show me anyway.” He shows me. It's decent besides the horrible piano. I tell him “It's decent besides the horrible piano.”

He says “Thanks, how about the vocals?” He always asks about the vocals.

I tell him “They're fine.”

He nods his head, thanks me, and leaves. I lock my door, change tabs, drop my pants, and resume.

Cheating stuff, for some reason today was cheating stuff. It felt weird. I start video hopping. It's great. I land on a video with a redhead. It reminds me of my ex. I close the tab. I pull my pants up. I can't finish. I lay on my bed. I start to sweat. I turn the A/C on. I start to think about what she's doing... if she's seeing another guy... what they might be doing. The suicidal thoughts start coming back. I start thinking about myself and why I'm so stagnant. My throat gets tight and I start breathing heavily through my nose.

I wanted to be a writer.

I wanted to be a director.

I wanted to tell stories.

What am I doing?

My stomach rumbles but I don't eat.

I open my laptop.

I open a word document.

I stare at it...

I close it and get something to eat.

I open my laptop.

I open a word document.

I stare at it...

I start browsing Reddit.

I start browsing porn.

I finish.

I close my laptop.

I look out the window.

It's dark.

I open my laptop.

I browse Netflix

Find a show about horses or something.

I like it.

I grab more food,

I watch more Netflix.

The show starts getting into very heavy emotional stuff I wasn't ready for.

The outro to the show gets into my head.

I really like the show.

It starts getting deeper and heavier emotionally.

I stop watching it.

I start thinking about myself again.

I wanted to be a writer.

I wanted to make film.

I wanted to be a storyteller.

I start rubbing my head obsessively.

The more I rub my head the more I feel like an anthropomorphic horse.

The shows outro takes the place of The Beatles’ “ For No One.”

I try to go to bed. I feel my eyes start to water, which means I'm about to have an episode and cry myself to sleep. That’s good because it means I'm going to pass out, except that I don't.

I just weep.

I open my laptop to play some ASMR to help me sleep. Whispering helps me sleep.

It doesn’t this time.

There is something wrong with me.

I open word document.

I stare at it...

I begin to type.

Not looking at what I write...

But rather just writing.

I stop.

I read it.

It’s horrible.

I resume.

I think to myself “What am I doing?”

I stop.

I think.

I am a writer.

I am going to be a filmmaker.

I am a storyteller.

and I resume.