#eternalzenith

[overclocksaaa]

@eternalzenith: leans into the mic, pete is 6'2 . height comparison / accepting

[devilisln-moved]

@eternalzenith asked: "care to lend your couch out to a friend in need?"

"I'm not opposed to the idea but I think you need to see that couch first...and the room it's in. Let's just say I think you need to consider that fact that my apartment is not exactly...Well, you'll see."

[soulcluster-moved]

@eternalzenith / peter quill "gamora, we talked about this- quit using my toothbrush!"

"I told you, I have no interest in your toothbrush. Why are you accusing me? Rocket's teeth are looking especially clean lately. I would interrogate him before throwing wild accusations in my direction."

[griim]

@eternalzenith asked; “Smash or Pass” + starlord

"... He won't let me hear the end of this but... Smash. Maybe."

[atimebombarcarchive]

@eternalzenith liked for a starter X

"If you keep flying like that, you're going to crash us into an asteroid field." They aren't exactly friends at this juncture - allies is more adequate than acquaintances - but that doesn't mean she's going to let him lead himself into danger, since being on the same ship means she'd end up in the same ditch, if he continues to fall asleep while simultaneously being the pilot. The others were asleep, there was a clear autopilot feature or, better yet, she, who did not sleep near as often or near as long as the others. "Only Groot might survive that."

[hexsrealityarchived2]

@eternalzenith inquired: height comparison - peter is 6'2

Send me ‘height comparison’ with you character(s) and I’ll compare it to mine using this. ⤷ Accepting!

Wanda’s going to have to tug down on Peter just a little bit so she can kiss him.

[notchairforce]

@eternalzenith​ asked:  "oh, captain. my captain." peter sings out loud to her, batting his eyelashes.

      carol’s brows lift a little as she turns to face him, gaze a touch suspicious.  ❝ what have you done? ❞

[anarkissm]

@eternalzenith​ (peter) said: “Oh my god. Are you a Krogan?”

the prisidium smells sterile. wet. like the tank. its denizens are scattered like grazing prey, watching the great expanse of freshwater filling across a reservoir that the lower wards have never seen. the prisidium commons are not built to accommodate the sheer size of him. not built to accommodate krogan. worse than that, it is just boring. the monotony grates on his nerves, like a piercing trill pitched against his ears.

maybe that was why he set the c-sec cruiser on fire, watched with violent delight as the spark of the ryncol-laced molotov cocktail exploded into a burst of green flames. took it for a joyride through the market district and crashed it into a wall, still burning. he is burning. climbing out of the inferno, massive, towering, flames and smoke rising form his scales. the shoppers disperse, screaming.

grunt stalks towards the noodle house, now. sits on top of a steel stool that creaks under his weight. to grunt, this is an ordinary day. but he does not expect the voice, the human attached to it.

“nah,” with his claws, grunt brushes away the flames caught on his bicep. “i’m a pussy cat.”