[numyths]

#NUMYTHS    —     dependent   ben grimm  and   peter quill    ///    as written by sol  (she/her)  for latverionhq.

ben grimm  aka  the thing   —   intro ,   interactions ,   images ,   musings .

peter quill  aka  star-lord   —   intro ,   interactions ,   images ,   musings .

[numyths]

gamora.​

she watches him carefully, eyes lingering a bit too long.  first rocket – and now peter.  she had begun to wonder what happened to her in whatever world they were from.  when peter calls her name, she stiffens and pauses. “ yeah, i’m gamora.   unless i was supposed to be randomly assigned a new nickname. ”

“ well it’s a good thing i’m not here for a bounty then. ” she mutters, leaning against a nearby wall. “ at least you know who i am.  haven’t run into that yet.  though, given the look on your face, i can assume i’m not your gamora.  but i am still … well, me. ”

there’s a sense of familiarity with the way she speaks, but he guesses, there’s also hesitance, confusion, uncertainty. if that’s the case, she must’ve known him. the question now is, how long has it been for her? was it around the start of their time as the guardians, closer to the middle, or maybe towards the end? he says back, “no, no new nickname. i’m just—” he swallows. “—surprised.” he doesn’t let conflict colour his expressions. “yeah, you’re... not her.” he doesn’t even know if he should say something about her... death. “where... when were you taken and brought here?”

[offollies]

( @numyths​ ) NATASHA ROMANOFF & BEN GRIMM

“so you’ve heard about rad?” she asked casually setting aside her files and picking up her coffee, leveling her gaze at ben as he sat opposite her. she knew her little side project that she had been carefully nurturing was becoming bigger than she could have imagined - and it was nice to see the resistance growing more and more - and all while completely under doom’s nose. “i’d love to recruit you and your team, after all the fantastic four knows the emperor best, do they not?” she knew the answer already, but wanted to hear him confirm it. “what do you say, ben grimm? care to join in the resistance or would you like to take a subtler approach?”

[numyths]

there was a delicate balance that ben had to strike when it comes to his affiliations. he had no doubt that being part of the fantastic four put a target on his back, with victor possibly having doombots or other measures in place to make sure ben wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise his rule. while he was sure that romanoff would’ve secured the perimeters, ben still had to be careful.

“i’ve heard murmurs.” he said in a low voice, subconsciously. “unfortunately, i do know him.” it wasn’t surprising that RAD existed, a rebel organisation was bound to surface in places ruled by tyranny. “i would love to, but i’m sure victor has me tailed. is there any way i can help without officially being part of it?”

[numyths]

"in another universe, we were teammates.” ben began, as he eyed the doombot part that he had asked for. he turned it over, examining it, slightly impressed that the dismembered leg still looked as good as new. he wondered if rocket had restored it during his spare time, thinking that it might come in handy when they time comes. perhaps the part truly was worth the price—but it’s also worth it to haggle a bit. “can you give me a discount at least?”

for @offollies​​ (rocket)

[numyths]

“hey cap, i hope you don’t mind me barging in.” peter slid in through the door and immediately made a beeline towards the mocktails (without knowing they are, well, mocktails; the sip he took later would disappoint him).

no, he wasn’t there because he wanted to join. he didn’t need the support group. he’s fine. he’s fine. he’s fine. if anybody asked, he was curious to see how a multiversal displacement support group function. “heard about this place and wanted to see what you do here. got some people—” he looked around, made sure doombots weren’t around, and said in a hushed low tone. “—in my line of work who might need support, you know?”

for @americanhero​

[numyths]

it’s supposed to be a simple bounty. stage a death and help the person go into hiding before the doombots come over and drag them to the killiseum, but he’s caught off guard when he stumbles upon the last person he thought he would meet. “gamora?” even when he says the name aloud, he still can’t believe it. it’s been so long since he has seen her—but which gamora is this? his gamora is dead. the other gamora that ran away doesn’t have knowledge of him. 

despite how his emotion threatens to take over, he tampers it down. he blinks away his tears, tries to focus on the task at hand instead. “sorry, i called first dibs on this guy, you can’t have ‘em.”

for @ghmora​

[numyths]

“are you sure you can’t keep him for another week?” his tone was a combination of jest and solemn. ‘i told you so’ just on the tip of his tongue, requiring a lot of strength to restrain himself from letting them slip out; a funny thing because he barely said anything about the sleepover, though he hoped that the friendly neighbourhood spider-man had picked up the silent and subtle warning. “it’s been a while since we’ve had peace and quiet. surely he’s not that bad of a roommate, right?”

@greatresponsibility​

[offollies]

( @numyths​ ) ROCKET RACCOON & PETER QUILL

a snicker escaped him as he scuttled out from underneath quill’s bunk, satisfied with the box of unused tapes he’d found and feeling, given that groot is his look-out and hadn’t said anything, that he’d once again gotten away with something. that was until he finally got everything out and he was sitting on the floor and saw the shadow of what was most definitely peter quill-shaped. “uh-oh.” he muttered, slowly looking up and over at quill, widening his eyes and wiggling his nose to be as cute and harmless looking as he possibly could. “it’s supposed to be a surprise for you, but now you’re gonna ruin it - and you too groot, don’t think i’m letting you off on not telling me he was here!” rocket barked, looking around quill at groot who merely shrugged and began to chomp on some grass. typical.

[numyths]

nothing good ever came out of rocket stepping six feet near his bunk. (remind him to check under his pillow for any fecal matter.) thank god for groot and how distracted he was with his grass, otherwise, peter would’ve never caught rocket in the middle of... whatever he was doing. peter crossed and uncrossed his arms, a tick he had developed because he refused to succumb into the role of the wet-blanket. yet, a better part of him echoed in his head: “someone has to do this! someone has to keep the guardians in line!”

why does it have to be him?

if this had been any earlier in their friendship (he could call it that, right?), peter might have fallen for rocket’s trick. now, he knew better. rocket would never act cute, period. it’s not in his nature. “and this is my surprise to you. surprise!” he said with a sarcastic tone. however, he softened his tone when he asked, “what are you up to now?”

[numyths]

r, richards.

“there are plenty of hills to die on, ben - however, this is a stool within a laboratory on one of the top floors of a rather expensive building.” he paused as he swiveled in his chair to face his best friend with a smile. “not quite a hill nor one i’m willing to die on.“ he added, knowing full-well ben would stone-face him (haha) or literally drag him out of there kicking and screaming. reed had… choices to make. “it’s a theory i would certainly like to test out, but for your sake and your sad disposition of looking upon me, i will concede and shut everything down for the evening.” he held up his hands as he twisted around to begin doing just that. a soft hum escapes him as he gives ben’s suggestion some thought. “alright, just a few - i don’t need to be scaring susan by doing normal things like getting intoxicated. but if that so happens to happen, you have my permission to carry me home.”

“haha, very funny, reed.” he added a dry chuckle for good measures. “regardless whether it’s a figure of speech or not, i am not looking forward to find you dead here.” when reed finally relented to his request, ben let out a sigh of relief. at least, his friend was not completely gone. “you can test out the theory tomorrow. i know it’s very important for you, but it’s also important to take care of yourself.” as he watched his friend clear up what he had been doing, ben stood by the entrance, observing and keeping quiet—suddenly and undeniably curious about what his friend had been working on. “i’ll carry you home, you can count on that,” he simply said while braving himself to approach the desk. he gave a small pat on reed’s back. “please, susie would thank me for getting you out and doing normal things.” finally, he gave the desk a once-over. “what theory are you working on anyway that require your utmost attention?”

[theweeknd]

[feral-ballad]

Carl Sandburg, from The Selected Poems of Carl Sandburg; “Clark street bridge”

[numyths]

r, richards.

reed had always thrown himself into his work, sometimes quite literally - though with the understanding that he’d need to take breaks every so often. but he’d become so good at doing what he did that he’d developed a certain sort of trance that made him feel as if he’d only been at his lab for minutes and not hours or days. which is why, though he often responded with senses of annoyance, he was thankful for ben, susan, and yes, even johnny - to pull him from the abyss of science. today was apparently ben’s turn. “i’m nearly finished, if i can just…” he broke off from his sentence and soon found himself concentrating again. until ben’s threat hit his ears. pausing, he turned to face his greatest friend. “you can try, but you seem to forget i can stretch at great lengths.”

his poor friend. his brilliant but poor friend. ben has known reed for so long, known the weight of the world that he bears. sometimes he wonders if reed’s intelligence is a curse at times. how does it feel to have your mind run a million miles an hour—to never stop inventing, researching, thinking. “is this the hill you want to die on?” ben jokes. “will you literally stretch from up here all the way down if i drag you?” he pats his friend’s back. “c’mon, reed. even i get tired looking at you. your research won’t run away if you leave. it’ll be here tomorrow.” he coaxes. “let’s go get some drinks. i hear thor’s bar is good.”

[numyths]

thor and peter are… okay? they’re on good terms for the most part, even if the other guardians like pitting them against each other. (why? peter’s not sure, he thought everyone likes the way he’s leading the team but whatever!). so, peter doesn’t mind paying thor a visit, especially knowing how much time has passed since he last saw the other, and—as much as peter hates to admit this—thor does have some great stories. he wonders if he’s had any new adventures since their last meeting.

stories are best accompanied by good drinks and he’s heard that frigga’s is a quaint little bar. so, it’s a no-brainer for peter to go there. as soon as peter enters the bar, he makes his way towards thor. “hey, buddy, nice place you got here.”

for @shiclded​ (thor)

[numyths]

spider-man.

It was chaos. Pandemonium, if you were feeling fancy (he wasn’t feeling fancy). Open whatever Doom’s version of the Raft was; empty the whole rogues gallery onto the streets; send innocent, unassuming citizens formal invitations to fight to their deaths, like the world’s worst wedding invites; vanish off the face of the earth. A perfect plan. Thanks, Doom. Gotta admire his brain. Peter didn’t know what Doom’s endgame was, but it couldn’t be anything good. Give him some breathing room and the benefit of hindsight, and he could start trying to put the pieces together. For now, he had a wheel to catch. 

“Hey, you never know. Could be chatty. I was chatty when I took a reckless joyride through a few dozen city blocks–which, for the record, was an accident, and also it never happened.” He cocked his head to the side and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Of course I remember the plan. I was just making sure you remembered the plan. And that the plan hadn’t changed.” Before he could finish his own sentence, Peter leapt into the air, ready to swing straight into the Big Wheel’s path. “Life is a highway, my spiky-headed friend. Let’s go stop this asshole from riding it all night long.”

“you know you’re not helping your case by admitting me these things, right?” the words might sound like he is annoyed, but he wears a small smile. “the plan hasn’t change. let’s go, spidey. let’s kick this son of a bitch.” matt angles his billy club towards a flag pole and presses the button. the grappling hook is deployed and he launches upwards. as he leaps in the skies, his radar sense shows him that there should be a shallow roof just to his 2 o’clock. he lands there and aims his billy club to another flag pole to propel himself further up. he continues doing this for the next block.

he’s by no means as fast as spider-man, but matt manages to close in on big wheel. god. he hates how loud the machine is whirring. it’s almost deafening to matt’s ears. focus elsewhere. he recalls the lessons from his youth. so, he focuses instead on the driver’s heartbeat. as matt waits for spidey to do his part, matt continues trying to reach the meeting point they agreed on. just a little bit more… maybe matt ought to reach a little further, in case big wheel decides to give spidey a hard time…

[numyths]

n, romanoff.

“well, i’ve somehow made it to the afterlife… if this counts as such? feels a bit middle of the road given the circumstances.“ she responded, a hint of humor in her tone as she smiled at him. he knew she couldn’t see him - but she hoped the energy was there. “but i’ve been well, i’ve taken a job as an organizer for the killiseum. so, my fair share of blood and violence is still apparently on the table - as i can see law is for you… we just chose… something adjacent.” she spoke carefully, clearly - but more to emphasize their similarities and their differences. but when he called her out upon her ‘catching up’ she let out a small laugh. “i think you know me too well, i might have to take you out. can’t have people knowing my motives - but no, i do need your help, rather… your insight and maybe a plan. unless you’ve retired the other half of you?” she asked, leaning against his table and tilting her head, a small rap of her knuckles onto the wood. “but i doubt that.”

“the things the avengers make you do, huh?” he shakes his head while letting out a soft chuckle. but he feels a sharp bitterness in his mouth when she mentions her work at the killiseum. out of all the people who would work there, natasha is one of them. if he thinks about it, she never does something for the sake of it. she’s calculated, always two, four, six steps ahead of everyone, and she always does the ‘right’ things. clearly, she is there for a reason—a reason that he might not understand now, but will make sense later. he can only trust that she knows what she is doing. “we can never escape the blood and violence, even if we want to,” is all he can say. “though it’s interesting you take up that job, i would never guess that you’re interested in sports.” and… there it is. the reason why natasha came to him. there’s no need for pretence anymore. he folds collapses his cane and folds it before tossing it to his table. “well, you know me. i’d be much use to you alive, so let’s keep it that way,” he states. “what do you need me to do?”

[manchxriancandidate]

a small grunt escaped bucky’s lips as he hauled the trash bag off his shoulder and into the container hidden away in the alleyway behind the building. funny, really, how their great emperor doom was able to create entire worlds from scratch, yet couldn’t seem to figure out how to create a building with a trash chute. not that bucky would have minded the trip, if only it hadn’t been for the white cat that nuzzled his leg each and every time he came down. “shoo!” he said, shaking his leg slightly to get it off, but it wouldn’t budge. instead, it purred and mewed happily as it circled through his legs. “i don’t understand what you want from me.”

@numyths​

[numyths]

with a trash bag in one hand and his cane in the other, matt navigates his way towards the alley where the trash are—uhm—collected. but he’s not alone. someone else is there. someone with a mechanical... something... an arm, matt concludes with the way the appendage seems to be doing extra work in hauling their trash bag. there’s someone else there. not a human. a cat. interesting. and the other man seems to not enjoy its presence. matt puts extra care into his ‘harmless blind man’ facade, but he still can’t help but chuckle while he feels for the dumpster. as matt ‘finds’ the opening, he tosses the trash bag in and turns towards the man. “i think she likes you.” matt gestures vaguely towards the cat. “cat don’t normally nuzzle to people unless they feel safe. maybe she just wants to make a friend.”

[numyths]

softlybrutal​:​​

||    it was easy enough to find.     the thing with living here in latverion, at the very least, there was far less to get lost in. the ghost of new york city sings like a choir in her mind, a grieve for the fallen, but that’s really all she has, here. this diner feels like a place she once knew. ben grimm is just the anomaly for one karen page  —  in a different world, she never would have met him.   “  please, if we’re going to be taking down rock trolls together, you should at least call me karen.  ”   amusement is warm on her mouth as she takes his hand, offers a firm shake in return before sitting down.   “  i think doom’s trying to send me a message  —  i’ve been writing some  …  opposing pieces, lately. and i admit, my usual writer’s approach seems pretty useless, but  —  i can handle myself.  ”   a girl is a gun. karen gets right to business as they wait for the waitress, exchanging her notebook for the menu with him  ;  a little trade.   “  i think you’re right.  about the connection.  ”

“yes, of course, m—“ he cuts himself off. “karen.” the name still sounds very awkward to his ears, but he supposes he needs to get over it because… she’s right, they’re going to fight some rock trolls. this should be fun and not dangerous at all. he watches as karen slides over the little notebook. with particular care, he takes it and starts flipping through—his back hunched over, as if to prevent anyone from reading the contents. “you’ve got nerves of steel writing those opposing pieces, k-karen. i wouldn’t take it upon victor to strip us off our first amendment once he sees them trickling in.” he shakes his head. “but someone needs to knock him down a couple of pegs.” ben observes what karen has written down and exhales loudly. he taps on the book. “this doesn’t sound good. what else is he hiding from everyone? do you think the roxxon workers would want to speak with us about this? seems reckless for us to just run in without a plan.”