december: catch-all | ❝ just like the white winged dove ❞

[quickfingers]

WHO: Peter Maximoff & YOU
WHERE: Various locations.
WHEN: Throughout December.
WHAT: Nanite malfunctions, readjusting to gravity & utter heartbreak.
ETC: Hit me up on plurk (valleyheart) if you want a starter for something if it's not listed here and I'll be happy to write one for you! Open prompts in body, private/ closed will be in comments!

01. and the days go by, like a strand in the wind

[Peter's back on solid ground after the exciting conclusion of Big Brother 3000. It's a weird adjustment to make, being able to roam free again and be surrounded with faces aside from those he's been cooped up with for the past three weeks. It's not made much more fun by still feeling achey and gross on account of the nanites - he's got a slowly healing split lip and a bruise on one cheek, the latter of which is fresh from the turbulent arrival back to Earth via a busted escape pod. Thanks Odin.

He feels a bit overwhelmed at being home though, like the world just started back up to full speed around him and as run down as he is - he wants to catch up with it. But he's struggling, taking small steps to get reacquainted with the pace. He's not unaware of the irony, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. And first on the docket? Walking to get a few pizzas from work - taking a few selfies along the way with people who recognize him.

That's gonna be weird moving forward.

His shop is more busy than ever and it's kinda freaky to see his face on the menu boards; they've even named a few specials after events on the Big Brother show - Maxdark Mac n' Cheese pizza being the most heineous of the new menu items. He gets his order for free, promising to return to work soon before turning back around to be asked for a few more selfies.] Uh, sure...

Y'want me to sign this as Quicksilver?

[The girl's marker doesn't work, so he looks up to ask:] Hey, got a pen by any chance?

02. in the web that is my own, I begin again (xhaus)

[And just like that, a perfectly happy world begins to unravel.

Peter spent the first day and a half believing it wasn't what it seemed. After arriving back on Earth and getting back into the swing of things he was swept back into concern for Wanda, mirroring the helplessness of a few months ago when he had to watch what was happening with no way to fix it. The Porter was fucking with all of them in one way or another, but her seizures really fucked him up too. And to cope he turned in part to Jean, who was a comfort even in the darkest of times. Like before, they were going to see this through together... or so he thought.

There's no doubting it now. There wasn't the day it happened, wishful thinking aside. He really just has to face facts and accept that she's gone. But this is day three and he can't. All he can think about are their talks, late at night as they laid together in this bed talking about loss and how unbearable it'd be. How tragic. And ironically it was this same bed they kissed on for the first time, breaking past their fears and hesitance towards starting something despite their knowledge that it would suck should one of them disappear.

And oh? Oh, does it ever suck.

He lays for a long period of time in her bed, looking up at plastic glow in the dark stars and he begins to wonder if he jinxed it. If he said something too fast, or if he wasted time being away from her. If he'd stayed here that would've been three more weeks together than they had. Her room starts to smother him with the scent of her and the memory of everything closing in, so he gets to his feet and heads to his room.

He shovels what few belongings he wants to keep into a duffelbag and packs, packs, packs. He needs to get out of this house and away from whatever's got a vice grip on his heart right now. She's gone and she may never come back. The sooner he faces that, the better. But he can't right now. Not like this. Not here. Not alone.]

03. said to my friend, baby, nothin' else mattered (18th & onward)

[December is a month that should be removed. It should be purged. It no longer holds any sense of joy or happiness and that sounds rather dramatic but considering his sister died a few days after his girlfriend disappeared into the ether? December can royally suck ass and die. And that's only the beginning of the many merry reasons that his mood is as sour as it is and his chest is as hollowed out as it feels.

The logical part of his brain reminds him that Wanda will revive here, but the Porter problems throw a wrench into things. It gives him anxiety, the thought that she might not. That maybe she really is gone forever, same as Jean. His Jean. The one that he went swimming with after hours, who tortured him with Cyndi Lauper and who he still thinks of day in and day out. It's stupid but it feels like she's died too, that version of her up and gone.

He's not usually a bar or club person, not without reason. Those reasons are usually people, the company he keeps and the company who pick the venue. But today he's here for the other main reason you'd him them up: to drink and to forget. For quite a few days of this shitty December, Peter will be trying a variety of distractions from the more hole in the wall types of pubs to strobe light infested clubs for any grasp of a quiet, thoughtless second that he can.

In both cases he will more often than not end up sitting alone inside or out with a drink and maybe even a toke, looking tired and more his age than he's ever looked before. For some he'll try to put on a smile and some semblance of a cheery self but others can get to see Peter for the trashfire he is with everything fucking him over from all sides.]

Comments

❝ He was no more than a baby then ❞ | ota in fauxhalla

[quickfingers]

[Before he left to dick around in space with Odin, he helped Magnus and Alex build "Fauxhalla". A sprawling tree house tucked away in its own private spot, it reeked of Magnus' aesthetic and Peter had fun in helping give it life. He feels a certain fondness for it still, even if all of his other emotions are scrambled up with shitty feelings in a muddy, bleak mess.

He came to stay for a few nights and that's stretched on a bit longer than that, though he's not always there. Some nights he stays out; awake and doing other things, haunting other places. But the few belongings he's holding on to sit in the guest room, occupying it until he finds somewhere else to go. He was and still plans to find his own place but now has to readjust the picture now that Jean's no longer in it.

Book in his lap, Peter sits in the living area trying to read the same paragraph for the third time - chewing on saltine crackers as he lolls his head back in surrender. He'll just zone out and lay here instead, this is fine. This is totally, totally fine.]

[fehus]

[it was utterly unfair, Magnus thinks, in the angry logic he rarely allows himself to think of his own circumstances in (it is what it is, is something he's caught himself saying so much lately, which -- he feels like is how his father talks, and it startles him). what was going on with Odin, he could understand, really; everyone had their first heartbreak (if they didn't die too young for it). what was going on with Peter was just fucking unfair. he'd gotten with the girl of his dreams, made plans, went to space, found her gone within the space of a few days back. it's nonsensical, and that "is what it is." there's no reconciling it, no breaking down why]

[there's just dealing with it, living with it, making choices and trying to move on. the choice Peter's made to come to Fauxhalla, Magnus thinks, is a healthy one (he thinks if Alex were to suddenly disappear, he'd crawl under a porch somewhere like a dying cat, and never come out). he hopes he can, if not be able to offer advice on an adviceless situation, be a comfort. be easy and open and whatever Peter needs him to be]

[Magnus pads out from the attached studio, where he'd spent the evening with Alex (given their company, they're trying not to -- well, be a super gross couple, all over the house, but he still wants a lot of Alex-time, so they sequester, sometimes). pacing over to where Peter sits, he places something quite dreadful on the paragraph Peter isn't reading. as if this accounts for his heinous actions, he explains;]

You both go fast.

[quickfingers]

[Peter has a mouthful of soggy saltine crackers (three - the fourth wouldn't shake loose of the sleeve,) when he lifts his head to look down at what he's gifted and quirks his lips into a crooked smile while he chews. He picks up the cheetah and looks it over, tapping his nail against a glob of paint to see if it's really dry.

It takes two attempts to swallow and not choke, ok:] Who made this abomination?

[Magnus and Alex have been nothing but accommodating to him and the least he can do is try not to be sad goop on their furniture all the time - which he manages, sulking mostly behind a closed door or when he thinks people aren't looking. One of the few things holding his life together right now is not making other people as miserable as he feels, which might not be a healthy solution on how to keep it together but it's working for the time being.]

[fehus]

How dare you imply my boyfriend could have made this abomination?

[it's an equally light return, even though hes quite aware of the sad gooping. the sad gooping may have been a reason to make hideous sins against nature]

Alex is an artist. Don't ever insult him like that again, or I'll knock the crackers out of your mouth.

[he doesn't do that thing. he takes a cracker, instead, sitting on the coffee table in front of Peter's couch. his bare feet, narrow and pale, come to prop up beside Peter's slumped ass. crunch, crunch. he gets crumbs on his cozy looking hoodie]

Do you like it?

❝ well he seemed broken hearted, something within him ❞ | odin dark

[quickfingers]

[Peter's been staying in Fauxhalla with Magnus and Alex and it's... nice, but he's still struggling with the concept of housemates. It's like he shook up the arrangement he had before, trying to fill in replacements for those he lost - and it's not working out the same way. He can't fill the missing gaps, even with the other people he loves. It's time to start anew, fresh and preferably alone. He's already started looking at places.

He looked at two this morning and maybe that's why he feels particularly listless, laying out in a meadow by the house. Literally just laying there, sprawled out on the grass with his arms at his sides and his earbuds looped around his neck. It's better than laying indoors taking up space and making it all awkward for everyone. Plus he can stare up at the clouds and play a halfhearted game of 'what's that look like' with himself.

That cloud looks like a... cloud. It definitely looks like a cloud.

God, this fucking sucks.]

[shadowglitter]

[ Odin's always had trouble sleeping. Even at home, when he slept in barracks with all those other soldiers, surrounded by the peaceful, safe breathing of those he loved, he would stay up until morning worrying about one thing or another. It's hard, being on such poor terms with sleep, and kind of bitterly ironic, given that one of his powers gives him limited control over it - but even if he was the type of man who could hibernate ten hours a night at will, he wouldn't, not now. Not when Peter's going through so much.

Tonight, he's been staying up in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and listening for creaks of footsteps on floorboards outside his room. A part of him expects Peter to be unable to sleep, like him, and if that happens, he'll probably head to the kitchen, make himself coffee to sit at and drink in silence, something like that, and Odin will be there, to swoop in and join him and keep him company. He's surprised, then, when those footsteps creak outside as he thought they would, only to step beyond the kitchen and head to the front door.

He waits a while - ten minutes, an eternity for someone as impatient as the great Odin Dark - before the fact that whoever just left hasn't come back yet eats away at him enough to make him move. He slips out of bed, in his hoodie and sweats, and paces as quietly as he can from his room through the tree house. He sees Peter from the window and wonders if he should just - leave him, maybe, if that would be kinder, but - he can't, in the end. He loves him too much.

When he heads outside and lays down by Peter in the middle of that meadow, he doesn't say anything, at first. Just rests back on the grass with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the 2AM sky as stars and clouds drift by overhead. It's cold, but not staggeringly so.

It doesn't take long for the silence to eat away at him, too. ]

Looks like Sammy Sperm. [ he gestures, idly, at a cloud that absolutely does not look like Sammy Sperm, but falling back on old jokes he knows might make Peter happy seems like a good place to start all this. ] Or - fuck, was that his name? The guy on the safe sex book for Magnus. Remember?

[quickfingers]

[Peter didn't expect to be joined out here tonight but he does briefly tilt his head to see who has come out to be with him before returning his gaze up to the stars. Magnus and Alex's hospitality has been astonishing and decent at keeping up Peter's spirits, but having Odin around has helped as well. Yeah, he feels crummy and stupid inside but Odin has a way of infiltrating his shitty mood and making it better. Maybe it's because he knows that Odin feels a lot of the same feelings inside or maybe it's because both he and Peter cover their pits of despair with shitty jokes and the same self depreciation that they can bond so well.

He sighs, lifting up his arms to put them behind his head.] Yeah, it's Sammy Sperm. Which is a pretty shit name, but I guess it had to be PG if it's a sex ed guide. I would've like, named him Jack Off? Or at least been a little less assuming that all sperm gotta be male, like. What about Sally or Sarah Sperm?

[Why is it he can talk such utter bullshit at the drop of a hat with Odin, to the point where he actually snorts a gentle laugh even though moments before he was fighting back the stinging mist that had settled into his eyes? He smiles, jabbing a finger up at a different cloud.]

That one just looks like a dick.

[shadowglitter]

Sandy Sperm? That-- no, wait, that sounds painful, somehow.

[ There's a joke there, about dropping the words jack off into conversation with Magnus's sword, but Odin lets it die on his lips and just embraces the peace of the moment. The crickets in the distance are quiet, but still there. He lets them fill the silence for a while as he watches the clouds float by in the darkness overhead. He laughs, when Peter points out the dick-cloud, but he doesn't say much - just lets Peter feel his company for a minute or two, sinking into the night.

Eventually, he sighs, like he's letting go of something heavy, and when he speaks there's a steady firmness in his voice that there rarely ever is. ]

Hey.

You wanna talk?

02

[incogneto]

[ Erik is up late because he can't sleep, spends half his nights working late at the garage when Wanda chooses to stay with her friend in Heropa, just to make sure he's in the same city. A few days down in Arizona trying to find where Lorna ran off to, and the rest trying to convince Charles that it wasn't entirely his fault the Porter is broken and try to get him to do something proactive.

Everything is wearing a bit thin around the edges, which is why he's on the porch with a cup of coffee when he spots Peter. He was glad to have him back from space, unharmed, having had a good trip. But he thinks that it might have been better had the trip been longer, and maybe they could've repaired the porter and let things settle.

He idly wonders if Peter's got the same idea. ]

Going on a trip?

[quickfingers]

[Peter has his duffel in hand and his backpack slouched over one shoulder, the hood of his sweater up and his earbuds wound around his neck to keep them in place while he slipped out the door. He wasn't expecting to see his father there and it causes him to take pause, his thoughts ten steps ahead of him and reeling back slowly to the present. Looking down at what he's holding, he sets the bag down briefly and considers the question.]

Yeah, I'm... I'm gonna go chill with Magnus for a bit.

[Fauxhalla's doors were open to the needy and Peter did think the place looked hella sick. Tree paradise. But the real reason he's heading off that way is just to be with his friends. He wasn't even sure where he was heading when he started packing, at least until Magnus' name rolled off his tongue in reply. Guess that works.

He looks off across the lawn, brows knit.] Need a change of scenery.

[incogneto]

[ It was a pretty sweet place, what with the whole. Valhalla thing going on. But besides that, Erik is surprised to hear where Peter's going. He supposes he doesn't have a right to question it, Peter's an adult and Erik wasn't the man who raised him in any case. ]

Say hi to Magnus and Alex for me.

You have keys, for when you want to come back.

[ He takes another sip of his coffee. ]

Do you need help taking your things? Your old man's slow, but he's pretty good at heavy lifting.

[quickfingers]

Nah, I should be fine. [He'll come back another time for the things he left behind if he wants them, the things too bulky to carry off tonight. All that he's focused on is being away for a bit, a break from the shitty feelings.

He pockets the keys in question and zips up the front of his jacket.] What's keeping you up?

3

[h2no]

[peter's sitting outside when archie spots him. it's weird how every time he goes out he sees people he knows, despite imports being spread over three huge cities? weird, yo.

he doesn't think on it too hard, just sighs a little as mightyena - who he was walking - bolts over to peter, immediately pressing against his legs, tail wagging and boofing in excitement. friend!! friend who brings food!!

archie catches up after a moment, expression apologetic.]

Sorry. He missed ya-- is the weather really good for broodin' outside like this?

[quickfingers]

[Peter's sitting out on the steps feeling mellow still from an earlier toke, enough so that he smiles at mightyena's enthusiasm and scratches him behind the ears. After a few apologies for not having snacks (and maybe smelling like weed - sorry pup,) he looks up to Archie with a light laugh.]

It's the perfect brooding weather. Not that it matters, would've probably been out here anyway either way. How's things?

[h2no]

Calm, for once.

[mightyena just LOVES those scritches oh man this is the best day of his life (like every other day)]

What about you? Everythin' good? No longer hurtin', right?

[quickfingers]

[Ha ha ha, what a question.] I got my ribs taken care of.

December's been shitty though. Don't know what you've heard 'bout it? [He's been quiet in his grief, tbh.]

2.

[aberranthubris]

[ It's great having Peter home again. There's that one tingle of happiness in all this misery. He's back and safe, not dead in a quiet spaceship somewhere in the vast eternity of the space. Charles finds that it's hard to make good for his promises and have celebratory dinners or feel good family meetings when Wanda is hurt and Jean missing, though. Now it's just Peter and Erik in the house.

He's tired and his powers are going haywire, it's hard not to hear Peter's inner workings when they're under the same roof. Try as he might, he can't shut the young man out.

Which is why he's knocking on Peter's door when he's throwing things into his bag. ]

Peter, may I come in?

[quickfingers]

[Peter's been filling up his bags off and on for a while, using bouts of fervent energy when they come and lazing about when they wear off. He's got things he can't take with him now that he'll have to make plans for, depending on how long he stays away - he doesn't want to take too much with him if he takes Magnus up on the housing offer for a little while. The serenity of Fauxhalla might do wonders for him.

He's staring at the giant pizza blanket Odin gave him, wondering how best to transport the thing (he'll get Odin to come back with him later, probably,) when Charles is at his door. After a beat of silence, the door swings open with a gentle gust as Peter flickers from spot to spot within his room - going through drawers and sticking things into his bags, full speed.

He doesn't really know what to say but:] Sup?

[aberranthubris]

[ Charles doesn't get in his way, but remains by the door, just inside the room, watching as Peter shuffles his way through the room. ]

Where are you going to stay? [ He'd like to know Peter will be somewhere safe. He's old enough to take care of himself but selfishly Charles would like to know where that is so he doesn't have to worry constantly. ]

And how are you doing? I know a lot is happening, if you want to talk about it...

❝ On the edge of seventeen ❞ | Darlene

[quickfingers]

[Some might think making plans to meet for froyo at midnight isn't something you do and they'd be half right - it's more of a place where you just end up. But Peter's entering this circuit late and doesn't give a shit, he hasn't slept for a while and is willing to keep pushing himself into proper exhaustion instead. Because that's how you cope with bullshit?

Go and go and go 'til you pass out for a while, drinks and distractions in between.

He's got less anxiety about him when he gets there; wearing yesterday's worn out clothes with a green bomber jacket over top - he's cracking his knuckles while shouldering through the door to one of the only 24 hour froyo locations this side of Maurtia Falls. If she's not there already, Peter'll wait by the machines for Darlene and tip his head to her when he sees her.

The shop's awaiting its usual 2AM surge of partiers - until then empty and a little clinical feeling with white walls and glossy floor tiles.]

[nastygram]

[Darlene breezes in maybe five minutes after Peter. He's easy to spot, and so is she. Dressed for a party, in a ragged look that passes pretty convincingly for a grunge aesthetic: big canvas trench, oversized plaid shirt, overalls, a bra, big boots. Sunglasses firmly on no matter how long the sun's been down.

In truth, she's stumbling her way into this next leg of a bender. That part wasn't a lie. Easiest way not to think about her shit is to make sure she's not thinking. Conk out on whatever she can get her hands on and party.

She smiles, pretty convincingly, when she sidles up to Peter.]

Yo, spaceboy. Your Froyo game improved yet?

[quickfingers]

I've had a meager improvement. [He confides, raising his brows at her before gesturing to the machines with his hands still in his jacket pockets. He's got a cup half-filled with cookies and cream that he's debating the next addition to - he remembers fondly that the 'loser flavor is strawberry-banana'. He also notes that she, like always, looks... ready for anything and distinctly unique.

Deciding to be crude, he adds orange creamsicle to the cup and drops an empty cup in front of her on the stand. Hers to fill and his to pay for, go wild, that's what his crooked smile stands for.] Bankrupt me, I don't care.

03

[the_admin]

[ Harold was more a pub type guy, rather than a club type. Actually he was more an upscale pub type of guy, but a hole in the wall worked well also. Particularly when one was trying to maintain a fairly low profile, all things considered.

For the most part, Harold had been keeping to himself since his last anonymous network post. He'd had to burn all that equipment, which meant he'd had to rebuild and keeping a low profile through all that seemed the best way to go.

But this particular evening, he was out with Bear getting treating himself to a drink and possibly taking a moment to get a feel for the general mood of the population. He had not expected to see someone he recognized, and there was also the fact that Peter wore the expression and general air of a man who wanted to be left alone. However, eventually curiosity got the better of him and Harold limped over. ]

Peter, right?

[quickfingers]

[Peter looks up and recognition flickers through his eyes after a beat, coming with it a gentle smile. Bear helps trigger the memory, but it's hard to forget the guy who helped him pick out the classiest pair of boots he'll ever own. He needs to make a note to get them out of his closet and start wearing them one of these days.

He turns in his seat, tipping up his head.] Hey, long time no see. Harold and Bear, yeah? How you doing, man?

[Glancing down at Bear, he too gets a nod of the head. Hope you're well on all fours there, buddy.]

[the_admin]

[ Bear scooted a little closer, as if deliberately positioning himself within reach for pets. Harold held back, politely and gave Peter a friendly smile. ]

Yes, I'm glad you remembered or this may have been a bit awkward. I'm doing well, thank you for asking. Am I interrupting anything?