[ Little decisions, little choices, little hesitations, can impact the world in huge ways. Choosing to skip a dental appointment, choosing to turn right, choosing to speak up when it's easier to stay silent, can profoundly alter the course of history.
In one reality, a heart monitor shrieks in a quiet hospital, and afterward, a small boy runs out, collapsing on the damp grass.
In another, a heart monitor shrieks, while an alien army razes the Earth.
In hundreds of thousands of realities, the Guardians of the Galaxy come together. The members may be different, their catalysts and purposes and goals may change, but in many universes, they exist.
There are at least three thousand realities where the Guardians of the Galaxy are called in to put down a cult – and in most of them, they call themselves the Pure Beyond. The cult believed that their universe was beyond saving, that utopia must exist somewhere else, and were determined to tear down the walls of reality to find it, no matter how many people they might kill along the way.
In at least a dozen universes, Peter Quill snorts as the team examines building schematics. "I mean, is it even worth it to take these guys down? There's no way multiple universes exist. It's just a thought exercise, right?"
In a dozen other universes, it's Rocket who asks those questions, and Peter Quill glares at him. "Thanos thought it was possible. He did not make a habit of chasing after fairytales."
In most of the other universes, the Guardians of the Galaxy ignore the call. Apparently they collectively thought this was a fool's errand, as well.
The Guardians who determine that the Pure Beyond are dangerous – or, at least, worth the trouble for the paycheck – charge in. In some of those realities, the Guardians of the Galaxy are a well-oiled machine, are astoundingly successful in suppressing the cult with hardly any trouble. In some others, the Guardians are dismantled or destroyed, devastated by the loss of some or all of its members.
In at least eight realities, the Guardians fight, tooth and nail, and are slowly gaining the upperhand, making their way to the heart of the compound to take down its leader. In some of those realities, Drax cackles, driven by his battle-high as he breaks the skulls of two cultists. Rocket and Kraglin are similarly eager for bloodshed, eager to test their new guns and explosives. Groot flits between them all, flinging cultists to and fro with reckless abandon, while Mantis subdues cultists with a press of her hand.
In at least two realities, Peter Quill turns to Gamora and says, "I thought this was gonna be harder."
In at least another two, Peter Quill turns to Gamora and says, "Don't let your guard down."
They battle their way to the heart of the cult. In these realities, the Pure Beyond's leader calls themselves the Harbinger – a dangerous being, rumored to have even more dangerous magics at his fingertips. When the Guardians arrive, the Harbinger sneers (much like a Saturday morning cartoon villain, most of the Peters think). They sic their most fearsome defenders on the Guardians, and unsurprisingly, they have yet another fight on their hands.
In at least two realities, the Guardians defeat the Harbinger and his lackeys without issue.
In at least four realities, the Guardians suffer heavy casualties. In half of those, they manage to wrangle success from the jaws of defeat; the other half does not.
And in two others—
It's funny, how decisions can echo, how reality can fold in on itself over and over and over.
Events play out the same in both realities: the Harbinger realizes beyond all logic, they're losing. They realize the Pure Beyond is falling to shambles around them, with their followers collapsing in sprays of blood, falling to the Guardians. The Harbinger slips on an ancient ring and performs a series of complicated hand movements. They had been saving this for themselves and their followers, but special exceptions could be made – for instance, banishing the Guardians to another dimension.
The Harbinger focuses on the closest Guardian, uttering a few arcane words.
In both worlds, Peter shouts, "Gamora!"
In both worlds, he bodily shoves her out of the way.
In both worlds, the magical blast hits Peter directly, and he disappears in a thunderous explosion—
—only to reappear, disoriented and reeling and changed, though he's quick to recover.
In the one reality, Peter manages to turn his trip into a spin, and a fireball wreathed in lightning escapes his blaster, punches a hole into the Harbinger's gut. He fires off at least a half dozen other shots, obliterating more and more mass from the Harbinger’s body. The battle ends, and he sags, relieved and exhausted.
In another reality, Peter rebounds and snarls, light catching on the silver scars carved into his brow, curling around the outside corners of his eyes, running over the bridge of his nose. He lunges forward to drive his sword into the Harbinger's heart, who gasps, eyes wide and mouth working like a fish out of water. Peter follows the cultist to the floor before resting his boot against the Harbinger's chest, yanking his sword free. The battle ends, then, and he flicks his sword, divesting it of excess blood. With the room quiet, he lifts his gaze from the Harbinger's body and finds the other Guardians staring at him.
In both realities, Peter Quill's gaze falls on Gamora, lips parting to ask, "Are you hurt?" Except she's staring at him, too.
And in one reality, he sees Gamora in a familiarly styled leather jacket, with her arms slack at her sides, blasters held loosely in her hands. She gapes at him, eyes wide and staring, lips parted, and face clear of scars. He sees the open confusion mixed with outrage and fear on her face, as clear as day.
And in another reality, he sees silver scars high on the swell of her cheeks, etched into her brow. And in her hand, he sees Godslayer, similarly dripping with blood. For a few, long, endless seconds, they all stare at one another. Peter's hand reflexively tightens around Godslayer's hilt, and he thinks he sees Gamora's hand do the same.
In one reality, Rocket asks, "Where the hell did you get those guns?"
In another reality, Rocket asks, "When the hell did you get a sword?"
And the tension breaks.
They have no option but to take Peter aboard their new ship, the recently christened Benatar, as they head to their other ship, the Quadrant. He's not sure if they've folded him in out of loyalty to the other Peter, or to the idea of Peter; he can't quite tell. They'll get this figured out, they tell him. They'll get him back to where he belongs, and, hopefully, find out where their Peter got banished to. Rocket fiddles with the ancient ring, stolen off of the Harbinger's cooling corpse, and claims he knows a guy who probably knows a guy who might have a connection to another guy. Drax wonders aloud if the Collector might have information worth trading for.
He's surprised when the team breaks off, going their separate ways and leaving him alone in the common area. Even now, he's cautious and wary, keeping his hand a twitch away from where Godslayer sits in its holster at his hip. If he were in their position, he doubts he would be so trusting to allow a stranger free rein of their ship, even if he wears a familiar face.
... Ah. No. There is someone in his position, in a matter of speaking.
His gaze falls again to Gamora. This entire time, they've been keeping their distance, have been regarding one another with cool, level gazes. Now, though, the two of them stand in the common area.
A muscle in his jaw jumps, head tilting slightly to one side as he thinks. Slowly, he sits at the table, and the flick of his gaze silently invites her to take a seat, as well.
(He notes that the table is covered in half-full, stained glasses, wrappers, and the guts of various weapons. His Guardians and these Guardians seem to have that in common.)
For a few seconds, he watches her warily, then dryly, ]
[ Life as a child of Thanos left little room for dreams. Death, blood, brutality – it was all she ever knew in the aftermath of her home's destruction. She fought, she grew, she survived, and it wasn't long before her new father rewarded her success with knowledge. She learned more about his plans for the future, for the power to bend reality to his will.
But his stories of conquest had an unexpected consequence: they left Gamora with the curious seeds of imagination. Though she did her best not to allow herself the weakness of dreaming about impossible futures, quiet moments let her wonder, What if?
What if Thanos had never come to her planet?
What if her parents had lived to see her grow and mature?
What if she was free?
These fantasies carried Gamora through her worst trials. Through modifications, battles, and cruelty beyond measure, Gamora would let her mind wander to the realities her father promised laid just out of reach. He described the barrier between worlds like it was a shroud, waiting to be cast aside to reveal a shiny, perfect dimension, all for the taking. What novelty, the comfort of having something so close and yet, out of reach.
She dreamed of these other universes, even if they morphed as she grew older, took on more realistic shapes. She no longer fantasized about leaping to a new dimension, released of her father's shackles, but instead, she yearned only to be free.
Little did she realize how very deeply that yearning ran – soul-deep, echoing between realities.
Give me my freedom – or I will take it for myself.
And take it she did.
An opportunity fell into her lap with Ronan, and Gamora saw her opening to escape. The fact that it brought her to the Guardians of the Galaxy and dropped her, headfirst, into a new family? That she didn't anticipate. She was equally unprepared for how important the Guardians became to her, how they patched the holes in her heart that had been abandoned for so long. Rapidly, those idiots turned into the most pivotal people in her life – and she'd die to keep them safe.
Which is why Gamora takes it very seriously when they're faced with the Pure Beyond.
Too much of the cult's rhetoric reminded her of her father's aspirations. Thanos had even explored the more arcane elements of the Harbinger's plan, but as a scientist at heart, the tyrant had opted to pursue other avenues to conquering reality itself. When Rocket tries to cast doubt on the importance of accepting the mission, Gamora shuts him down promptly.
"We're doing this."
Fighting through the Pure Beyond is a trial, but this battle doesn't feel different – not at first. The Guardians push forward with haphazard but impressive vigor, controlling the tide of the fight until the very last moment—
When Peter shoves her out of the way of the Harbinger's final, desperate act. Gamora hits the ground, rolling free of the explosion, before she's almost instantly scrambling to her feet, screaming Peter's name. Terror rings in her ears, a fear gripping her throat she hasn't felt in ages, but as soon as the smoke clears, she sees the telltale shape of his shoulders. Confusion and relief sweep through her, but the comfort she feels evaporates the second she sees a familiar sword in his hand and a glimmer of silver high on his cheek.
The face that greets her is one she knows by heart, but the light in his eyes?
It feels like the wrong kind of familiar.
They have to take the new Peter with them, if only because swapping him through whatever strange dimensional portal brought him here might be how they get their own Peter back. Gamora doesn't like that necessarily, but what choice do they have?
Something about seeing Peter look so himself and yet wrong gets to Gamora. She keeps her distance, mostly observing him silently from afar – which ironically seems to be exactly what he's doing. They track each other like apex predators with an eye on their prey – or, perhaps, their equal. Watching, defending territory, defending themselves.
When the others finally disperse, Gamora is left with Peter, a hovering tension refusing to dissipate between them. She weighs the options of just not saying anything at all, but she accepts the silent invitation for what it is, dragging out her chair before plopping down opposite him.
[ He doesn't laugh, exactly, but there's a hint of it – the narrowing of his eyes, the slightly sharper exhale.
Even sitting he appears alert – back straight, gaze sharp. He keeps one hand on the table – a placating gesture, one that implies he's unarmed, though a deceitful one. After all, his other hand rests on his thigh, close to Godslayer at his hip. Even with all the consolations these Guardians have shown him, even as familiar as they all may be, he doesn't expect this good will to last.
He doesn't know this Gamora, but there are echoes that are horribly familiar – the measuring glares, the hovering that borders on wary prowling. He can practically see the scales tipping one way then another in her eyes. He knows she must be appraising his skills, his strengths.
Mostly because he's doing the same. ]
I imagine this is the part where I try to gain your trust by telling you something only Peter Quill will know. Or something only Gamora will know.
[ Never mind that he's from an alternate universe – there's no guarantee that he would know something that the Peter Quill or Gamora of this universe knows. ]
[ So! After several false starts, and after several attempts to rally himself, one (1) Star-Lord is heading down the stairs.
He does, thankfully, have quite a bit of experience of not looking as hungover as he actually is. A few years with a young, growing, and to varying degrees of overbearing Groot has forced him to learn how to maintain a certain equilibrium, has forced him to learn to show that, yep, he definitely has a headache, but he is not, in fact, two breaths away from puking, or crying, or curling up in a small ball.
Eventually, he outlasts the curious teen and equally curious child before he artfully collapses on the table. ]
I'm never going to drink that much again.
[ Which is a lie. He'll probably drink this much again next week. ]
[River Kwan, the optimistic healer, totally legal licensed doctor, and gym bro, greets Peter Quill with a bowl of hardboiled eggs with the shells still on. Thankfully, his two cousins, Simon (teen with empathy powers) and Emily Kwan (small child with future sight) are working diligently on peeling several of them.
And also thankfully, River walks over to Peter and hands him a mug of hot coffee he was holding with his other hand.]
Lucy and I did try to tell you to not underestimate soju, especially if they're the fruity kind. That's what lead to rum in the coffee pot after all.
[Which is why when Peter takes a sip, it'll probably still smell like rum so yeah]
[ With the offering of coffee, for a brief moment, Peter looks like River is probably the most generous, selfless person in the universe.
He takes a quick, fortifying sip, although his nose immediately wrinkles with the smell of it. Thankfully, the smell doesn't match with the taste, so Peter isn't too hesitant to take another swig of coffee. ]
When you said you had hard-boiled eggs handy, I didn't realize you meant you had a whole coop's worth.
[ Though even as he complains, he plucks one up and starts peeling it, albeit a little slowly, a little clumsily, and a lot bleary-eyed. ]
[They say to never meet your heroes but even 7-year-old Emily looks at the poor hungover Star-Lord with starry eyes and offers him a peeled egg. It is just a humble offering to one of planet Earth's saviors after all. River chuckles and gets to work on making some toast while Simon leaves egg peeling to Peter and Emily so he can make some instant noodles.]
It's easy and ready-to-go protein. Been busy these days so I like them to be within reach. Lucinda usually cooks for us but I don't want her to worry about my meals too much.
more like the kind that comes knocking on your door and are like "hi we're here to offer peace and harmony at the low, low cost of the freedom of your entire planet" and when you're like "hey actually no thanks" they go "that's a shame, time to enslave you all instead"
but i hear they've got really good charcuterie boards, so
I actually scales the wall a little. Took the IV out first. Ended up on the maternity ward and good lord. That's something I could stand to never see again.
Gods aren't supposed to be killable by mortals. That you manage such a feat, regardlessly of circumstances, is concerning. Hence why I come off short. Alas I can't blame you either. Death is predetermined by the Fates. But I have always preferred to keep my enemies close.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
🔫 THIS IS A STICK-UP 🔫 GIMME UR ROLESWAP STARTER AND NOBODY GETS HURT
let's all stay calm and not do anything rash
In one reality, a heart monitor shrieks in a quiet hospital, and afterward, a small boy runs out, collapsing on the damp grass.
In another, a heart monitor shrieks, while an alien army razes the Earth.
In hundreds of thousands of realities, the Guardians of the Galaxy come together. The members may be different, their catalysts and purposes and goals may change, but in many universes, they exist.
There are at least three thousand realities where the Guardians of the Galaxy are called in to put down a cult – and in most of them, they call themselves the Pure Beyond. The cult believed that their universe was beyond saving, that utopia must exist somewhere else, and were determined to tear down the walls of reality to find it, no matter how many people they might kill along the way.
In at least a dozen universes, Peter Quill snorts as the team examines building schematics. "I mean, is it even worth it to take these guys down? There's no way multiple universes exist. It's just a thought exercise, right?"
In a dozen other universes, it's Rocket who asks those questions, and Peter Quill glares at him. "Thanos thought it was possible. He did not make a habit of chasing after fairytales."
In most of the other universes, the Guardians of the Galaxy ignore the call. Apparently they collectively thought this was a fool's errand, as well.
The Guardians who determine that the Pure Beyond are dangerous – or, at least, worth the trouble for the paycheck – charge in. In some of those realities, the Guardians of the Galaxy are a well-oiled machine, are astoundingly successful in suppressing the cult with hardly any trouble. In some others, the Guardians are dismantled or destroyed, devastated by the loss of some or all of its members.
In at least eight realities, the Guardians fight, tooth and nail, and are slowly gaining the upperhand, making their way to the heart of the compound to take down its leader. In some of those realities, Drax cackles, driven by his battle-high as he breaks the skulls of two cultists. Rocket and Kraglin are similarly eager for bloodshed, eager to test their new guns and explosives. Groot flits between them all, flinging cultists to and fro with reckless abandon, while Mantis subdues cultists with a press of her hand.
In at least two realities, Peter Quill turns to Gamora and says, "I thought this was gonna be harder."
In at least another two, Peter Quill turns to Gamora and says, "Don't let your guard down."
They battle their way to the heart of the cult. In these realities, the Pure Beyond's leader calls themselves the Harbinger – a dangerous being, rumored to have even more dangerous magics at his fingertips. When the Guardians arrive, the Harbinger sneers (much like a Saturday morning cartoon villain, most of the Peters think). They sic their most fearsome defenders on the Guardians, and unsurprisingly, they have yet another fight on their hands.
In at least two realities, the Guardians defeat the Harbinger and his lackeys without issue.
In at least four realities, the Guardians suffer heavy casualties. In half of those, they manage to wrangle success from the jaws of defeat; the other half does not.
And in two others—
It's funny, how decisions can echo, how reality can fold in on itself over and over and over.
Events play out the same in both realities: the Harbinger realizes beyond all logic, they're losing. They realize the Pure Beyond is falling to shambles around them, with their followers collapsing in sprays of blood, falling to the Guardians. The Harbinger slips on an ancient ring and performs a series of complicated hand movements. They had been saving this for themselves and their followers, but special exceptions could be made – for instance, banishing the Guardians to another dimension.
The Harbinger focuses on the closest Guardian, uttering a few arcane words.
In both worlds, Peter shouts, "Gamora!"
In both worlds, he bodily shoves her out of the way.
In both worlds, the magical blast hits Peter directly, and he disappears in a thunderous explosion—
—only to reappear, disoriented and reeling and changed, though he's quick to recover.
In the one reality, Peter manages to turn his trip into a spin, and a fireball wreathed in lightning escapes his blaster, punches a hole into the Harbinger's gut. He fires off at least a half dozen other shots, obliterating more and more mass from the Harbinger’s body. The battle ends, and he sags, relieved and exhausted.
In another reality, Peter rebounds and snarls, light catching on the silver scars carved into his brow, curling around the outside corners of his eyes, running over the bridge of his nose. He lunges forward to drive his sword into the Harbinger's heart, who gasps, eyes wide and mouth working like a fish out of water. Peter follows the cultist to the floor before resting his boot against the Harbinger's chest, yanking his sword free. The battle ends, then, and he flicks his sword, divesting it of excess blood. With the room quiet, he lifts his gaze from the Harbinger's body and finds the other Guardians staring at him.
In both realities, Peter Quill's gaze falls on Gamora, lips parting to ask, "Are you hurt?" Except she's staring at him, too.
And in one reality, he sees Gamora in a familiarly styled leather jacket, with her arms slack at her sides, blasters held loosely in her hands. She gapes at him, eyes wide and staring, lips parted, and face clear of scars. He sees the open confusion mixed with outrage and fear on her face, as clear as day.
And in another reality, he sees silver scars high on the swell of her cheeks, etched into her brow. And in her hand, he sees Godslayer, similarly dripping with blood. For a few, long, endless seconds, they all stare at one another. Peter's hand reflexively tightens around Godslayer's hilt, and he thinks he sees Gamora's hand do the same.
In one reality, Rocket asks, "Where the hell did you get those guns?"
In another reality, Rocket asks, "When the hell did you get a sword?"
And the tension breaks.
They have no option but to take Peter aboard their new ship, the recently christened Benatar, as they head to their other ship, the Quadrant. He's not sure if they've folded him in out of loyalty to the other Peter, or to the idea of Peter; he can't quite tell. They'll get this figured out, they tell him. They'll get him back to where he belongs, and, hopefully, find out where their Peter got banished to. Rocket fiddles with the ancient ring, stolen off of the Harbinger's cooling corpse, and claims he knows a guy who probably knows a guy who might have a connection to another guy. Drax wonders aloud if the Collector might have information worth trading for.
He's surprised when the team breaks off, going their separate ways and leaving him alone in the common area. Even now, he's cautious and wary, keeping his hand a twitch away from where Godslayer sits in its holster at his hip. If he were in their position, he doubts he would be so trusting to allow a stranger free rein of their ship, even if he wears a familiar face.
... Ah. No. There is someone in his position, in a matter of speaking.
His gaze falls again to Gamora. This entire time, they've been keeping their distance, have been regarding one another with cool, level gazes. Now, though, the two of them stand in the common area.
A muscle in his jaw jumps, head tilting slightly to one side as he thinks. Slowly, he sits at the table, and the flick of his gaze silently invites her to take a seat, as well.
(He notes that the table is covered in half-full, stained glasses, wrappers, and the guts of various weapons. His Guardians and these Guardians seem to have that in common.)
For a few seconds, he watches her warily, then dryly, ]
I appreciate you not attacking me.
🔫 NOW PUT THE BUNNY IN THE BOX
But his stories of conquest had an unexpected consequence: they left Gamora with the curious seeds of imagination. Though she did her best not to allow herself the weakness of dreaming about impossible futures, quiet moments let her wonder, What if?
What if Thanos had never come to her planet?
What if her parents had lived to see her grow and mature?
What if she was free?
These fantasies carried Gamora through her worst trials. Through modifications, battles, and cruelty beyond measure, Gamora would let her mind wander to the realities her father promised laid just out of reach. He described the barrier between worlds like it was a shroud, waiting to be cast aside to reveal a shiny, perfect dimension, all for the taking. What novelty, the comfort of having something so close and yet, out of reach.
She dreamed of these other universes, even if they morphed as she grew older, took on more realistic shapes. She no longer fantasized about leaping to a new dimension, released of her father's shackles, but instead, she yearned only to be free.
Little did she realize how very deeply that yearning ran – soul-deep, echoing between realities.
Give me my freedom – or I will take it for myself.
And take it she did.
An opportunity fell into her lap with Ronan, and Gamora saw her opening to escape. The fact that it brought her to the Guardians of the Galaxy and dropped her, headfirst, into a new family? That she didn't anticipate. She was equally unprepared for how important the Guardians became to her, how they patched the holes in her heart that had been abandoned for so long. Rapidly, those idiots turned into the most pivotal people in her life – and she'd die to keep them safe.
Which is why Gamora takes it very seriously when they're faced with the Pure Beyond.
Too much of the cult's rhetoric reminded her of her father's aspirations. Thanos had even explored the more arcane elements of the Harbinger's plan, but as a scientist at heart, the tyrant had opted to pursue other avenues to conquering reality itself. When Rocket tries to cast doubt on the importance of accepting the mission, Gamora shuts him down promptly.
"We're doing this."
Fighting through the Pure Beyond is a trial, but this battle doesn't feel different – not at first. The Guardians push forward with haphazard but impressive vigor, controlling the tide of the fight until the very last moment—
When Peter shoves her out of the way of the Harbinger's final, desperate act. Gamora hits the ground, rolling free of the explosion, before she's almost instantly scrambling to her feet, screaming Peter's name. Terror rings in her ears, a fear gripping her throat she hasn't felt in ages, but as soon as the smoke clears, she sees the telltale shape of his shoulders. Confusion and relief sweep through her, but the comfort she feels evaporates the second she sees a familiar sword in his hand and a glimmer of silver high on his cheek.
The face that greets her is one she knows by heart, but the light in his eyes?
It feels like the wrong kind of familiar.
They have to take the new Peter with them, if only because swapping him through whatever strange dimensional portal brought him here might be how they get their own Peter back. Gamora doesn't like that necessarily, but what choice do they have?
Something about seeing Peter look so himself and yet wrong gets to Gamora. She keeps her distance, mostly observing him silently from afar – which ironically seems to be exactly what he's doing. They track each other like apex predators with an eye on their prey – or, perhaps, their equal. Watching, defending territory, defending themselves.
When the others finally disperse, Gamora is left with Peter, a hovering tension refusing to dissipate between them. She weighs the options of just not saying anything at all, but she accepts the silent invitation for what it is, dragging out her chair before plopping down opposite him.
With an equally dry tone, ]
That can still change.
no subject
Even sitting he appears alert – back straight, gaze sharp. He keeps one hand on the table – a placating gesture, one that implies he's unarmed, though a deceitful one. After all, his other hand rests on his thigh, close to Godslayer at his hip. Even with all the consolations these Guardians have shown him, even as familiar as they all may be, he doesn't expect this good will to last.
He doesn't know this Gamora, but there are echoes that are horribly familiar – the measuring glares, the hovering that borders on wary prowling. He can practically see the scales tipping one way then another in her eyes. He knows she must be appraising his skills, his strengths.
Mostly because he's doing the same. ]
I imagine this is the part where I try to gain your trust by telling you something only Peter Quill will know. Or something only Gamora will know.
[ Never mind that he's from an alternate universe – there's no guarantee that he would know something that the Peter Quill or Gamora of this universe knows. ]
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hell yeah drag the russos
i'm not salty, what's salty 👀
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giveaid;
[ So! After several false starts, and after several attempts to rally himself, one (1) Star-Lord is heading down the stairs.
He does, thankfully, have quite a bit of experience of not looking as hungover as he actually is. A few years with a young, growing, and to varying degrees of overbearing Groot has forced him to learn how to maintain a certain equilibrium, has forced him to learn to show that, yep, he definitely has a headache, but he is not, in fact, two breaths away from puking, or crying, or curling up in a small ball.
Eventually, he outlasts the curious teen and equally curious child before he artfully collapses on the table. ]
I'm never going to drink that much again.
[ Which is a lie. He'll probably drink this much again next week. ]
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[River Kwan, the optimistic healer, totally legal licensed doctor, and gym bro, greets Peter Quill with a bowl of hardboiled eggs with the shells still on. Thankfully, his two cousins, Simon (teen with empathy powers) and Emily Kwan (small child with future sight) are working diligently on peeling several of them.
And also thankfully, River walks over to Peter and hands him a mug of hot coffee he was holding with his other hand.]
Lucy and I did try to tell you to not underestimate soju, especially if they're the fruity kind. That's what lead to rum in the coffee pot after all.
[Which is why when Peter takes a sip, it'll probably still smell like rum so yeah]
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He takes a quick, fortifying sip, although his nose immediately wrinkles with the smell of it. Thankfully, the smell doesn't match with the taste, so Peter isn't too hesitant to take another swig of coffee. ]
When you said you had hard-boiled eggs handy, I didn't realize you meant you had a whole coop's worth.
[ Though even as he complains, he plucks one up and starts peeling it, albeit a little slowly, a little clumsily, and a lot bleary-eyed. ]
no subject
[They say to never meet your heroes but even 7-year-old Emily looks at the poor hungover Star-Lord with starry eyes and offers him a peeled egg. It is just a humble offering to one of planet Earth's saviors after all. River chuckles and gets to work on making some toast while Simon leaves egg peeling to Peter and Emily so he can make some instant noodles.]
It's easy and ready-to-go protein. Been busy these days so I like them to be within reach. Lucinda usually cooks for us but I don't want her to worry about my meals too much.
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brushpass;
damn, ok
pat benatar is a good choice
well if anyone asks you can tell them you were with me and i performed a rendition of Don't Stop Me Now that nearly got me a record deal
super down for continuing, thank you!
The only problem with this is that now I want to see you perform Don't Stop Me Now.
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though i'll only agree to this if you promise to belt out some Benatar
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Are you on Earth?
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slimandfoxy;
more like the kind that comes knocking on your door and are like "hi we're here to offer peace and harmony at the low, low cost of the freedom of your entire planet" and when you're like "hey actually no thanks" they go "that's a shame, time to enslave you all instead"
but i hear they've got really good charcuterie boards, so
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Suppose in that case an undercover op might be in order. For the cheese.
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i can send you the coordinates and meet you in an hour? :)
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See you there.
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deathbeforedecaf;
i'd like you to know i'm picturing you jumping out of a window while cradling an IV stand
you were still in a hospital gown too i'm guessing
Re: deathbeforedecaf;
I didn't have time to get my own clothes on!
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so are we including accidentally mooning a bunch of patients to your glorious escape too or??
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warthunder;
to be fair that was just the one time
and also he had it coming
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i mean technically i still AM half-celestial but i don't have the super powers to back it up anymore
also technically *i* didn't kill him
a bomb did
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halfofit;
uh??? not really
but that's good though. that you're not an incubus. i guess??
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so what are you actually, instead?
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