CRASH/BURN

"fragments, where the animal in me/stirred and snapped and chewed itself."

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

@greatesthawkeye

“Thank you for meeting me here,” He says as he opens the door to his apartment, lets Kate through the threshold. He had half expected her to refuse the invitation, or to arrive with her bow strung up and pulled back, aimed right at his heart. He wouldn’t have blamed her, he’s aware of how it must look from the outside--it might have even been the universe’s version of a kind of just punishment. He doesn’t bother sitting, doesn’t busy his hands tidying up things like he normally would--he hasn’t slept here for the past couple of weeks, relying on the long practiced skills of finding warm enough barns and the beds of strangers when he can come by them. As it stands he doesn’t feel comfortable being here--he keeps waiting for the police or the Justice League or a member of the brotherhood to kick down the door and haul him away. 

“I owe you an explanation, but you have to promise me that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. Not to America, or anyone--it could potentially put my sister and others in danger. It could put you in danger, but I believe you’re capable of handling yourself.” He says finally, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he paces. “I was a member of the Brotherhood, and I did some horrible things when I was with them--but I had a reason, for what it’s worth.” He sighs and drags his hands down his face. “My biological father is Magneto, a fact which I was not aware of until he rescued Wanda and I from a difficult situation. He manipulated us into joining, told us that he could protect us, that he should have protected us from the beginning.” He meets her eyes then, folds his arms across his chest. “It was all a lie of course, he just wanted two powerful mutants at his disposal. It’s something I’ve been trying to make up for every day, Kate. If such a thing is even possible.” 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

@queenofchcos

It feels idiotic to say because it has always been that way, but his first thought was of Wanda. If the world knew that Pietro had been a member of the Brotherhood it would only be a matter of time before they followed it to his twin sister, and she has so much more to lose than he does--she loves being an Avenger, whereas Pietro only followed her to the team, and she found the love of her life and has a home with him. She shouldn't be asked to forfeit any of it because Pietro was weak to the suggestion of their father, because Pietro enjoyed playing at princeling and has always been hard hearted to everyone else in the world apart from her. 

“It’s me, Wanda.” He says when he arrives at her apartment door, his hood pulled up over his white hair--he didn’t dare run, not with the whole world looking for the signs of his super speed. They won’t expect him to walk, to keep pace with them. He leans his forehead against the wood of the door and exhales, tries to steel himself if only for her benefit. If he has his way, this will rest squarely on his shoulders--he’ll lie and tell anyone who asks that they were separated at the time, that Magneto came to him and preyed on the hatred of a young man who had lost everything to a world that would never accept him for who he was. She’ll be safe with Storm. 

The door opens and he hurries inside, puts his hands on his sister’s shoulders and meets her eyes. “You have to know that I didn’t tell a soul,” He says, and he is unable to keep his voice from sounding pleading. “I would never do that to you, to Johnny. Whoever did this--they got it from my mind somehow, you have to believe me.” 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

“The last person who said that didn’t fare so well,” He drawls and watches the shot glass travel from the table to her mouth. It’s probably a valid question, how are you dealing with this--but he doesn’t really have a good answer for it. He’s already been dealing with it on a personal level for a while now, every time he shows up to respond the world’s latest catastrophe he’s atoning for it--the only difference is now other people think they get a say in how he’s dealing with it. “It was only ever going to be a matter of time, these things--the people I was involved with--they have a way of coming back no matter how far you run from them.” Especially considering he’s connected to it by blood, by things he cannot separate from himself. “I was manipulated into making a mistake by someone I thought cared about me, it’s something I have been trying to make up for ever since, and I will continue to do so, I don’t need anyone’s approval for that.” 

It’s no different from running from village to village when he was younger, the hatred that people carry with them doesn’t really change from location to location--he can deal with that. What he’s struggling with is the collateral damage, the life that his sister loves and has fought to built for herself--it’s all in danger because of him. He shakes his head and inhales sharply, throws back a shot and winces at the way it burns on the way down. “If there is anything else you wish to know you may as well ask it, as it appears as though my desire to hide the details of my life means very little if anything anymore.” 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

Pietro has no interest in hearing who is and isn’t on his team beyond his sister--that idea is precisely the one that got him into trouble in the first place, he had heard it from his father’s mouth and that had been enough to convince him. At the same time, on a purely base level, it is nice to be face to face with someone who isn’t actively looking to throw him in jail, to condemn him for a mistake that he made practically another lifetime ago. “What gave me away?” He raises an eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders, though they feel heavy with exhaustion in away that he isn’t exactly used to, considering his mutation. “Was it the white hair or the look of human hating malice in my eyes? Or is it that obvious that I can’t get drunk?” He snorts and throws back another shot anyway, gestures for the man to take the seat across from him if he wants it. He pulls his hood just to make sure that the white hair is tucked away properly, folds his arms across his chest. 

“I feel like I should be apologizing to you for taking up precious space in your brain with my sordid past.” He drawls, scrubs a hand over his face. There’s a headache blooming behind his eyes, the product of a thousand thoughts beating against the walls of his skull. “You should trust that under normal circumstances, I would never willingly tell anyone anything about myself. I hate it when people do that, which is surely delicious irony for whoever is responsible I’m sure.” He shrugs his shoulders again, exhales slowly and does his best to put something resembling a friendly expression on his face. “In any case, you should let me buy you a drink, since you’re on my team. I’m not exactly in a position to refuse friends.” 

[phocnixrises]

@fastasquicksilver​

The world was always a place that needed saving. Jean had realized that from the time her telepathy had first emerged, long before she could reach out and touch the minds of New York as a whole. That being said, it was not a place that she needed to save constantly, and with the people she cared for, Jean never felt guilty about that. Naturally, Pietro Maximoff was among those after meeting Quicksilver at Xavier’s. They had quickly connected and thankfully, he was one of few that Jean didn’t feel wildly uncomfortable speaking to. He had not been among the few she attacked as Dark Phoenix, and Pietro had not observed the changes in her behaviour as the Phoenix began corrupting her. Unfortunately, there was no one Jean was willing to confess the whispers she heard and dreams she reserved from the Phoenix, seemingly loving in nature, reminding Jean she would never be alone, but truly malicious. It was a threat Jean was determined to handle alone, and currently, it was a threat Jean did not want to brainstorm. Pietro deserved more respect.

“I’ve never been to Italy,” she informed Pietro as she twirled spaghetti around her fork. The X-Men traveled plenty, but they rarely got to experience the cities and countries that they visited and because of that, Jean never counted them as places she visited. “I think I could live here if I got to eat like this everyday,” she said with a smile. “Where is your favourite place to go? You grew up in Europe, right?” Pietro, despite being one of her friends, never seemed to speak extensively about his background. Coming from Xavier’s, it was a trend Jean had adjusted to. Few mutants had tender upbringings, and most made hers look like a Nicholas Sparks novel, only briefly dramatic and largely loving.

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

Since the revelation of his past connection to the Brotherhood, the only place Pietro has felt like he could relax for a fraction of a second is the Xavier Mansion--other mutants are more sympathetic to the facts of the matter, and some of the only people he really counts as friends reside there. However, after a while even the feeling of sanctuary has started to wear thin, and he needs to well and truly gain some distance--and he doesn’t even have to think about who he’s going to drag along with him. Jean Grey is one of the only people he well and truly trusts, and she knows him well enough to know that he doesn’t want to talk about it--and in turn he knows her well enough to know that she won’t make him--he simply tells her that she should inform whoever needs to know that she’s taking the rest of the day off, and that there’s a cafe near the Trevi Fountain in Rome that makes the best biscotti and espresso on the face of the earth. He’s more grateful than he could ever express, that she readily agrees.

He feels some of the tension start to seep out of him as he leans back in his chair, even feels a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You would enjoy the coast, there are few experiences that can compare to sharing a bottle of stolen wine and watching the sun set in Naples.” He says and shrugs his shoulders, feels the smile turn fond. “Slovenia, and most of Eastern Europe at one point or another. It was difficult for my mother and father to raise two mutant children in such an area.” It’s something that has been weighing on his mind--the only thing he’s really wanted to say is that Magneto might be his biological father, but Django Maximoff raised a good man--despite all evidence to the contrary. “If I have a spare moment I enjoy Berlin or Dublin--I used to steal books from the library at Trinity College, before I became an Avenger and they told me I was free to borrow whatever I would like. I like--old cities, with history. When you’re constantly moving it’s--easy to become aware of time.” He grins and leans forward, raises an eyebrow. “Does your mutation--translate the thoughts of foreigners? I often find myself thinking in Russian or German, and have wondered if you understood.”

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

He always knew that it would happen at some point--his father was a powerful man, with enough enemies that it would have been foolish for him to assume that the connection would come forward at one point or another. Mostly, he had hoped that he would have had a chance to at least warn either of his sisters, or have the opportunity to say something in his own defense. He was my father, what was I supposed to do? I wasn’t about to abandon my sister. With the way mutants are treated in society, can you honestly blame me? It’s something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life, isn’t that punishment enough? More of me than I’ll ever care to admit liked being at his right hand, being cared about by the father I had never known.

He already knows how the public will react, he doesn't need to stick around to be subject to it in any kind of physical way. He takes off first thing in the morning, heads for a small village on the border between Germany and France where he knows he won’t get too many questions as long as he speaks the language. He keeps his hood up, reads through three novels before midday and tries not too look over his shoulder too often--for all he knows, Magneto himself could have done something to reveal Pietro’s connection to the Brotherhood. He moves again after an older woman rests a hand on his shoulder, asks him if he’s in some kind of danger--he moves from a small town near the fjords to an English village with more sheep than people.

All of the running is a temporary solution to a larger problem, but it’s the only thing that is capable of speaking some comfort to his mind. He had thought he was past this point in his life, past being afraid that his father was going to find him eventually, past running from place to place to avoid the hatred of other people--he should have known that everything revolved in a circular pattern. He ends up back in the city a few hours after nightfall, slouched at a table in the back of the main room of some hole in the wall bar--even though he is incapable of getting drunk. He sees a familiar face approach, throws back a shot that really doesn’t taste like anything. “Should I be comforted by the lack of a pitchfork? Or are the rest of the villagers just lagging?” He drawls, raises an eyebrow.

[readyrogers-deactivated20181012]

@fastasquicksilver

Steve was quickly getting used to the new body, but plenty still mystified him. He had held onto the woman’s keys, so finding the right thing to wear was never a problem (matching and coordinating the outfits was another story). It was the rest that puzzled him—the accent, the belongings, the lack of identification in her apartment. Steve was no slouch; he was dealing with some kind of spy, or someone tangentially related to espionage.

After some difficulty getting through to FRIDAY, Steve was admitted into Stark Tower. The biometric and facial scans were definite failures for obvious reasons, but FRIDAY’s rounds of alarming and vigorous questioning finally let Steve through her security. Save for Bruce, Steve hadn’t spoken to any of his teammates about the body swap—there had to be someone who knew something, or uncovered a development without his knowledge.

He made his way to Pietro’s floor, for once glad to utilize the designated living spaces for everyone on the team. The fastest guy that Steve knew had to have heard something by now. Instead of Quicksilver, however, Steve found a girl in Pietro’s living room.

“Excuse me,” Steve greeted, trying to hide his disappointment. The search was on, though Steve knew that Pietro would find him a hell of a lot faster if the Avengers communicated a little better in their down time. “You haven’t seen Pietro anywhere, have you?”

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

Pietro hates this body in a myriad of ways, but chief among them is how easily exhausted it is--he had gone for a run early, a couple of miles that would have felt like nothing in his own body, and he’s still feeling it in his legs, his heart still beating wildly. He has the distinct desire to do nothing more than lay on his couch for a couple of hours--which feels necessary and like an outrageous waste of time all in the same breath--a dilemma which he resolves by simply flopping onto the cushions with a soft huff of breath and staring at the ceiling for a few long moments. He isn’t even aware that he’s falling asleep, until he’s startled awake later by the sound of someone entering his floor. 

He bolts upright and scans the room for a potential weapon of some kind--this body is distinctly more vulnerable than his own, and he isn’t really in the mood to find out what the laws of death are like in situations like this. The woman that enters is tall and dark haired, walks with the kind of purpose that suggests she knows exactly who she’s going to find here and why. There’s a possibility that it’s just one of his teammates, who has also fallen victim to this--whatever--but, he’d be naive not to consider the possibility that it’s a member of the Brotherhood. 

“The answer to that question depends entirely on who I’m speaking to.” He says slowly, folds his arms across his chest. “Pietro has his fair share of enemies, I wouldn’t want to give his location to one.” 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

Pietro has always been aware that he sometimes spoke faster than normal people were capable of hearing, but hearing someone who has no idea how to control his mutation chattering at his face suddenly makes him feel like he owes his sister an apology. “You are going to have to make a concerted effort to slow your speech. To anyone else you would be unintelligible.” He drawls and rolls his eyes, folds his arms across his chest before stepping aside so that whoever is in his body can enter. He’s grateful that his mutation prevents him from being injured easily, if whoever is currently in his body is incapable of slowing their speech down, or unaware of the need to do so, he imagines that the running part of his mutation has presented quite the challenge. He strongly resists the urge to roll his eyes at the thought of living through the injuries that come with running into things and people all over again--whoever this is should be grateful that this time it isn’t pine needles and tree bark to run into. And that the people of New York aren’t readily equipped with pitchforks.

“You’re clearly aware of what my body can do, what other shoes would I wear?” He raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, sets his mouth in a thin line. “Also, I’m not a complete heathen, those are this season’s Adidas.” He huffs and waves a hand dismissively, a gesture this body seems practiced in. “None of that matters, you have my body and I would like it back. What do you know about all of this?” He may not have his speed, but he still has his mind and he’s feeling as restless as ever, gesturing between the two of them before pacing back and forth. He drags his hands over his face and sighs exasperatedly, turns his gaze up to the ceiling. “Either way, I suppose I’m going to have to teach you how to control it, at the very least so you don’t break every bone I have running into walls. Please tell me you don’t have some power I’m not aware of? Besides attracting stolen goods?”

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

Something inside of him eases when Wanda wraps her arms around him, even though it isn’t really him completely--he would never admit to it out loud, but the affection feels needed in that moment. He had worried for a brief moment after the intrusion that she would be afraid at the sight of a stranger in her home, question the validity of someone who was very much not her brother claiming to be him trapped in another body--but Wanda still knows him, even now. “It’s less comforting than it should be, if it were your magic I’d at least know who to address my complaints to.” He huffs and kicks off the high heeled shoes that had been the only option in the woman’s closet. “And I have many--I had to take a taxi here, Wanda. I’m surprised that the simple act of walking up the stairs to your apartment did not render me completely exhausted.” This body is in excellent shape, he’s sure it’s capable of far more than he’s currently putting it through, but it’s never going to compare to being able to be wherever he wants to be in fractions of seconds. 

“I am--fine, all things considered.” He says when he emerges from her room a moment later, dressed in leggings and a floral hoodie--he had never thought much about his sister’s taste in clothes, but he’s suddenly aware of how much she favors a--bold print. “More annoyed than anything, which isn’t exactly unusual for me I suppose. She moves at a pace which I can only describe as below pedestrian, particularly in those shoes, oh--and I’m fairly certain she’s a thief.” He says and rolls his eyes, folds his arms across his chest like it’s nothing. “Those paintings that the Metropolitan reported missing? Jewels? I think I found them. If only I had the speed necessary to return them.” He flops down on the couch, leans into his sister as she examines several books on the coffee table. 

[magneticmistrcss]

@fastasquicksilver

Whatever weird magic had caused everyone in town to swap bodies, Lorna was monumentally glad not to be a part of it. Unfortunately, many of the people in her life weren’t quite as lucky. The mansion was overstuffed with both people who’d suddenly found themselves in the bodies of its occupants and occupants in the wrong bodies who didn’t feel comfortable leaving their home, and to say Lorna was exhausted would have been an understatement. She wanted nothing more than to go for a nap but the universe, it seemed, had other things in mind.

She didn’t recognize the woman who showed up in her room until she started talking. Despite the different voice, tones, and accent, she gathered pretty quickly just who was babbling at her. Groaning, she walked over to her bed and collapsed onto the mattress, pulling her pillow stubbornly over her head. “Why is this happening to me?” She asked rhetorically, looking up at the ceiling as if expecting an answer. “Why is my brother in some girl’s body talking my ear off? I don’t deserve this.” Turning to Pietro, she wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. “The whole ‘endless talking’ thing isn’t as funny without your superspeed, just so you know.”

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

With Johnny also in someone else’s body--and apparently causing chaos in that body--Pietro had made the executive decision to leave his sister to deal with one problem at a time, and the Xavier Mansion had seemed like the next logical place to go. Lorna was there, and he needed to make sure that she was safe in whatever state she happened to be in, and the X-Men seemed like his next best chance at being put back into his own body quickly. It was practically muscle memory to stomp up the stairs to Lorna’s room, begin talking about whatever was on his mind at the time--he hadn’t stopped and considered that he was currently very much not himself. “And here I though our shared blood entitled me to a certain degree of sympathy.” Pietro huffs and rolls his eyes, sets his face in a scowl that he hopes has the same level of effectiveness on this body. Judging by the one that he had met on his own face earlier today, he’s cautiously optimistic. 

“If I knew why I was in this body, I would surely be talking to you in my own. I’m fairly certain this woman is a criminal, and without my mutation to constantly regenerate my cells or whatever it is that it does--I am exhausted.” He flops down next to her on his back, his hands tucked into the pockets of the hoodie he had borrowed from Wanda earlier--a bright floral print in shades of red that he had chosen by virtue of the fact that it had a hood and he could pull the sleeves over his hands. He rolls his eyes again, and manages something between a smile and a smirk. “If I truly talk enough to make you question the universe, you could simply tell me to shut up. We are siblings, and if movies and television are to be believed, it is a common occurrence.” 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

“I’m fully aware of the potential risk I am taking, in doing so.” He drawls, looks up at him with a smirk. “Afraid I’ll be disappointed if I do? Then again, twins--we have a--sense, don’t even have to speak about some things.” He’s found that people who are not twins are eager to believe in some sort of telepathic link between them, which Pietro has learned means he can say any vague nonsense and people won’t outright question it. He has no real interest in any of the specifics of his sister’s relationship, which Storm could just as easily call him on, but he’s eager to see the look on the other’s man’s face. He’s often wondered, since it became apparent that the relationship between his sister and Storm was going to be a long term thing, if this is the kind of thing that people with brothers might do--tease each other and make each other work for the approval of the other, but he pushes the thought aside. He’s sure that the fact that he’s even thinking about it right now would give the other man too much pleasure. 

He straightens to his full height, folds his arms across his chest and shrugs his shoulders. “Then I assure you I’ll be more careful with any following remarks.” He rolls his eyes when Storm declares the invitation almost a compliment. “This is simply a case of you being in the right place, at the right time. And the fact that I know it would please my sister greatly, if we were to spend time together.” He idly scratches both dogs behind the ears when Johnny disappears to grab leashes, and he’s unable to stop the corners of his lips from pulling up into a smile. This all had seemed so far fetched not so long ago--that he would be sitting in his sister’s apartment waiting for the man she loves, that he could have come from something as idle and frivolous as a soccer game in the park. He’s--happy. Or as close as he could possibly come, in that moment. 

“I believe this is the part where we make small talk,” He says, when they’re sitting at an outdoor table with the dogs laying at their feet. “My sister tells me you have a new job.” 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

“So much to unpack in that one statement, Katherine.” He smirks and rolls his eyes as a woman in a brightly colored apron begins gesturing wildly on the screen. He pulls himself up from his position on the floor and leans against the couch, raises an eyebrow. “Does that mean that in your eyes I have a passing resemblance to Orlando Bloom? Are you imagining me as some sort of elfin warrior when we’re together? Because if that’s the case I’m going to have to seriously reconsider who I’m letting in my bed, talents in that arena be damned.” He shakes his head and exhales exaggeratedly, but he’s finding it hard to resist the urge to grin. It’s a threat with no heat behind it--their relationship is beneficial to the both of them in a way that he would be hard pressed to replicate, a perfect understanding of what each of them can and is willing to give. 

“What makes you think I would simply turn him over to you if I met him?” He snorts and shrugs his shoulders. “I’d clearly seduce him myself, I believe it was you who told me ‘the whole sexy and mysterious European thing really works for you’. Of course you’d be welcome to our quaint English estate when the time comes, and if he asks about my incredible sexual prowess, I’d be more than happy to list you as a reference.” He pats her knee in mock sympathy, but he’s laughing, failing to fight the grin that’s spreading across his face. “Though I preferred him as the pirate to the elf.” 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

“People are dying, Lorna.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling--as much as he is capable of doing so, anyway. Storm had explained the joke to him, apparently a reference to some show about a wealthy celebrity family--apparently with little awareness of the happenings of the world around them. He had failed to understand the appeal, upon watching an episode with the both of them, but it seemed like something his sister might understand and laugh at. “And yet it seems to be more important to post pictures meant to inspire jealousy in people  with which you have no relationship. Congratulations, I’m sure the woman who dated your husband before you will show up at your front door clawing at her face because she can no longer take it.” A woman over Lorna’s shoulder who has been circling a bowl of some manner of desert with her phone camera since Pietro arrived shoots him a scowl, but he simply rolls his eyes again and sets his mouth in a thin lipped smirk. He huffs out a breath, shrugs his shoulders. “Did I use that reference right, by the way? Tell me you aren’t also watching that Kardashian garbage, and I’ll feel comfortable declaring before the public I have one sibling who hasn’t disappointed me.”

Of course, he’s not immune to the aesthetic appeal of the whole spectacle--the hanging lights around the separate trucks cast a warm glow that reminds him of some of the villages he had liked when he was growing up, when he and Wanda had actually been able to stay and experience local cultures for longer than a few days. The premise is not dissimilar either, with people milling around and laughing, passing around food and drinks that could only charitably be described as having nutrition--he’s never felt like he belonged in situations like this, only keenly felt the differences between himself and others. But he has Lorna with him tonight, and he--could fathom having a good time. Being unaffected by other concerns, for a few hours at least. “You’re lucky I require a significant amount of calories in order to function.” He says as she orders for the both of them, his arms folded across his chest. “How have you been?”

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

🔥

🔥: What’s a place that left them motivated in some fashion?

For Pietro it’s definitely Sokovia--besides his time with the Brotherhood, that was when he felt most like his father, and that was when it really sunk in that he wanted to be different, that he wanted to be better and do good. Every time he thinks about it it reaffirms his convictions in his mind, and as long as he’s helping people he feels like he’s atoning for what happened there. 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

🔅: What’s a place that holds special meaning to them? Why?

Avengers tower means a lot to Pietro, because living there meant that he and Wanda no longer had to hide. It was the first step towards him proving to himself and to the world around him that he’s better than his father--and every time he sees it’s a little reminder that he’s made the right choices for himself, that no matter how close the darkness feels sometimes, he’s a good person capable of doing good things. 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

💞, 🔅, ✨

💞: What was their first love like?

It was a boy from one of the villages that he and his family were living in--they both lifted fruit from the same cart, which garnered the attention of the owner. Pietro grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him away because he knew he was faster, and they developed a friendship and eventually a relationship. It ended when the family inevitably had to move again, and made it clear to Pietro that he was always going to be a little too transient for love.

✨: What motivates them? Is it a deep rooted passion/motivation, or is it something they struggle with from time to time?

For a while Pietro was motivated by survival, he and Wanda had no one but each other and he was going to do whatever it took to make sure that she stayed safe. Now that they are both settled in New York and members of the Avengers, he’s motivated to prove that he’s better than Magneto, than the darkest parts of himself. But it’s something that he definitely struggles with--he’s the only son, he sometimes feels like he has more of his father in him than his sisters. 

[fastasquicksilver-blog]

💧: Are there any places they avoid? If so, why?

Pietro has never been back to the village where Marya and Django died, and he also avoids any place that has any association with his father or the Brotherhood. He’s already keenly aware of these things, he already lived through them and felt them, he’s never seen the need to repeatedly go back to them. That’s the thing about speed, it demands that he always move forward.