I got a request from @apep40 to do some headcanons about Colossus and his childhood, and how could I possibly say no? I’ll just preface this by saying that these are just my ideas, some of it backed up by the source material but not entirely, yada yada yada. So, without further ado...
So, first off, I have a headcanon that his mother is either part or fully Buryat, and that’s where Piotr and his brother Mikhail get most of their looks from (dark hair and skin tone) except Piotr has his father’s blue eyes. Ilyana got the blue eyes/blonde hair combo from their father’s side, and was always a little jealous that she didn’t look more like her brothers or her mother.
I think that growing up on the farm was both a blessing and a curse for the Rasputin children; on the one hand, they pretty much grew up being able to run and roam around in the pastures being surrounded by plants and animals and this wide open space that was awesome to grow up in - but on the other, growing up on a farm is work. Chores need to be done every day, and it’s a lot of hard labor. Planting, harvesting, taking care of animals, making sure farm equipment isn’t breaking down, and just trying to eek out a living from a land that could be harsh and incredibly unforgiving, and dangerous if you didn’t know what you were doing.
Piotr loved working with the cows as a kid; he was bigger than most his age, and wasn’t afraid of being pushed down by the larger animals. Some of his earliest drawings were of the cows on his family’s farm. Animals just sort of naturally gravitated towards him - stray dogs and cats, rabbits, even the chickens seemed to favor him over his siblings.
Piotr and his siblings grew up strong and fast, they had responsibilities and were put to work as soon as they were old enough to walk. As a result, they became very self-sufficient at an early age with things like cooking and cleaning and taking care of each other. This led to a bit of an attitude problem for Mikhail, who saw himself as an adult from early on and was always getting into trouble for pushing boundaries and being a general pain in the ass for everyone around; he got in trouble a lot, and usually had a habit of dragging little Piotr along for the ride. Piotr admired his older brother so much and wanted to be just like him, but also wanted to be a better example for his baby sister and keep her safe as long as he could. That’s what big brothers are supposed to do, right?
Mother and Father Rasputin were caring but firm, not a whole lot of coddling but a lot of love for their children. Ilyana was the baby, so of course she got away with a lot that both Piotr and Mikhail would have never gotten away with. Candy before dinner? Unheard of before Ilyana came along. Their father could never say no to her.
After Mikhail left, Piotr and his mother became incredibly close - he learned a lot about cooking and baking by following her around the kitchen and reading her old family cookbooks. He could never fill the void of her first son, but he tried his best to make her happy just by being there for her and helping out around the farm as much as he could. His relationship with his father was a little bit more strained after that, as his father couldn’t help but blame himself for driving Mikhail away from the farm, but it eventually grew to a sort of understanding once Piotr started to grow into a young man.
The family was really tight knit and followed a lot of traditions that Piotr continues to follow; birthday cakes are always homemade, respect your elders, and do no harm but take no shit. His father would tell them folklore stories of the domovoy and Baba Yaga, sitting in front of their fireplace while smoking a pipe. His mother hated when he smoked in the house, but not enough to do anything other than chastise him for it. The smell of tobacco smoke always reminds Piotr of his father, and baking bread reminds him of his mother.
Out of all of his siblings, Piotr was probably the closest to his parents. With Ilyana’s time/dimension displacement and Mikhail’s frequent deaths/disappearances, Piotr was the one who really was there for his parents. They saw him as a constant, and that made leaving the farm all the more difficult when Xavier approached him to join the school
Can you do some more colossus headcanons, please? 👉🏻👈🏻🥺
omg of course, I’m glad so many people liked what I wrote for him last time!!! I’m just gonna use some more of these 1 word prompts from the last ask, doing a bit more drabbles. I got the idea for the first one from a post from @osmiumamygdala
I’ve put this under the cut for some partial comic/canon spoilers for X-Men 1992 issues #17-#19
05. Broken - The plate crumbled in his fingers, spiderweb cracks fragmenting the ceramic into pieces at his feet with a loud shatter; Piotr grimaced, turning to Logan with what remained of the broken plate.
“Ah, can I have another one, tovarisch?”
Logan sat at the other end of the counter, already holding out an identical dinner plate to the one Piotr had broken. There was an entire box of identical plates at his side, and another box at his feet; thank god for clearance outlets. Logan took stock of the situation - 20 minutes in, 10 plates already broken, and 2 at Piotr’s side that he had been able to set down without shattering.
“We’ve been at this for a while Petey, let’s take a break.” Logan suggested. “Getting frustrated ain’t gonna help anything.”
“Nyet, I can do this. I know I can.” Piotr insisted. “Please Logan, one more time.”
“Take it slower this time Petey,” Logan instructed. “Focus on the motion. It’s easy to get frustrated, but you gotta remember how much force you’re putting behind your fingers now. Really work on -”
There was the sound of shattering ceramic, and a string of Russian curses. Logan sighed.
“I’ll go get a broom.”
25. Return - His return back to the farm after the funeral of his parents is...rough. He’s alone, and that fact is only amplified by the sheer emptiness of the place that he once called home.
He wandered through what used to be his house, the shattered door barely hanging on its hinges and bullet holes peppering the walls, and he couldn’t help but let a few tears fall onto his cheeks. The kitchen - the heart of the house not too long ago - is cold and empty. The fireplace holds nothing but ash and distant memories of his father packing his pipe full of fragrant tobacco and sitting Ilyana on his knee while Piotr and Mikhail sat by his feet in front of a roaring fire. He would tell them stories of folklore and the domovoy, the spirits tasked with protecting the home and livestock; once Mikhail got older, he dismissed the tales as being ‘for babies’, but Piotr had always enjoyed them, enjoyed how safe he felt sitting at the feet of his father and listening to his mother scold him for smoking in the house. His father would throw his head back and laugh and Ilyana would laugh along with him, her giggles like tinkling bells, and Piotr...
and Piotr wondered if he’d ever feel that safe, that happy, ever again.
29. Preparation - Every table is laden with art supplies, a blank sketchbook at each chair and a name tag affixed to each place with surgical precision. The walls of the classroom are covered in color - posters demonstrating color theory, prints of famous paintings by Dali and Van Gogh, and there are even some of his own projects that he’s hung up with pride. Not that the ten year old age group he had been assigned would appreciate it, but he still thought it would a nice touch to the classroom. His classroom.
Piotr Rasputin is prepared, writing his name on the chalkboard at the front of the room as his students begin to trickle in. Some he recognizes, most he doesn’t, and he can’t help but feel a twinge of nervousness as the classroom begins to fill up with children. Would he be a good teacher? He never thought about being a teacher before, but when Xavier had asked him if he’d like to fill the vacancy in the art department, he’d jumped at the chance. Would they be able to understand him? His accent had a tendency to thicken when he talked about something he was passionate about. And what if they were scared of him? He wasn’t a small man by any means, and for some that was enough to avoid him altogether.
He turned to face his class, his heart pounding in his throat, and a little girl with bright pink hair and antennas smiled at him from the front row. And there, in her bright eyes and crooked, missing front teeth smile, Piotr found his confidence. He cleared his throat to get the attention of the rest of the class.
“Privyet students. I am your new art teacher, Mr. Rasputin.”
