Pietro Maximoff

FaO Closed

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lastzenwhoberian‌:

“I… No, I wasn’t saying that so you get me another one.” Gamora felt a little panicked. Maybe it sounded like a request and she didn’t even realized it. “You don’t have to.” 

The topic of coffee was welcome “We do have something that looks like it, but that is definitely not the same. It’s a little bit more.. viscous?”

       “You’ll find,” Pietro smiles at her; her alarm is endearing              “That I don’t tend to act on obligation.      Nor do I much care about what’s expected of me.” 

“But you enjoy this... viscous version of coffee?” 

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notwhateveryonesees‌:

Wanda noticed the telltale flow of air past her before she did the flowers. A subtle sign of her brother’s presence that others might not register, but that she would know anywhere. 

              <Now, brother.>

She said, looking around the room as she walked over to touch the ribbon around the flowers’ stems. 

          <You should know full well you can’t hide from me.>

Pietro emerges from the alcove he’s ducked into - she’s right, and it’s true. 

        < But I can pretend not to be here,               if you’d rather not see me. > 

Self-flagellation, rather than an attempt to , and it’s telling of the onerous he feels himself. 

[wreathedinrose-deactivated20181]

Wanda & Pietro in Quicksilver: No Surrender #3 art by Paul Renaud, script by Saladin Ahmed

(dedicated to the Pietro to my Wanda, @vertigoats)

[scarlet--wiccan]

“Hey! It’s three in the morning, but that diner we used to go to on 68th is still open. And they still have those milkshakes…”

Wanda and Pietro’s pajamas in Quicksilver: No Surrender #5

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lastzenwhoberian‌:

“Of course. I am not sure what type of coffee you like but let’s go” Gamora figured she just needed to find a place that had the word coffee written on it. 

“Plastic is not as nice as the real deal. In space we have holographic flowers and while it looks pretty it does nt feel the same as having a real flower… Which is why I tried to keep your flower alive.”

Pietro makes an effort to walk at her pace, tempering his instinct to bolt.   There’s a place with the image of a cup of coffee, instead of a name, close by, and he aims for that. 

           “Whatever is in the cupboards, usually.” 

   “They smell different too,” he adds; a 3D image seems even more lacking than a plastic one.                “Rest assured, get you another,” he promises. 

“No coffee in space?”  

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@notwhateveryonesees

There’s a vase of flowers, on the counter, tied together with red ribbon. 

        --  Pietro slips through the door when Wanda arrives, pretending she might not notice the telling shift in the air if she’s still... 

             Well, he not quite sure. 

                  What he does know is that he feels the irrepressible weight of         -something on his chest, and he’d does not like it. 

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lastzenwhoberian‌:

“You’re very mysterious and almost impossible to find, I wanted to ask if you would like a coffee because I heard that is what people do on this planet. Oh, and I am sorry to inform you that the flower you gave me died, I tried to keep it alive but it is very fragile.”

Pietro had never been aiming for mysterious, but his anonymity in this place was intentional.                “Coffee sounds divine -                         would now work?”  

The flower --- oh.                   That flower.                                   She’d      kept it?                                                                   ( ... why ) 

“Most things on this planet are,” Pietro concedes with a smile.

                “They’ve created realistic plastic ones, that will never wilt away.”  

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cosmicjive‌:

“Y’don’t know the half of it. Saved the galaxy twice. Held an Infinity Stone in my bare hands.”

That’s even before the whole ‘kidnapped by pirates’ thing came into play.

       Peter leans forward, bottle in hand threateningly.

“I ain’t seein’ what’s so goddamn funny, asshole.”

“You ought to have a parade,” Pietro disparages,            “A monument risen in your name.”  

       He’s not entirely sure what an Infinity Stone is, and he doubts that this man’s claims are true - though they may be, they do live in a world where such absurdity could be truth.  

                “The butt of the jest does so rarely understand the humour.” 

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lastzenwhoberian‌:

“I wouldn’t want to offend anyone. I am happy to see you, How have you been?”

          “A noble endeavour -                   though impossible to obtain.            I gave up on it long ago.” 

    “Much better, now.”           Charm and a side-step, all in one.                  “And you?” 

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cosmicjive‌:

“Oh, trust me, I’m plannin’ to.” He takes another swig from the bottle, and scoops up the spare earrings into his pocket for good measure. “Yeah, yeah, save it, Caesar.” Peter rolls his eyes. That chick in the movie was right. He should totally just stab Caesar.  “I know, ‘cause she’s my girlfriend and we’ve been together for almost a year.” He tightens his grip on the bottleneck. “I’m Star-Lord. Legendary outlaw.”

    “You must lead the most taxing life --” 

             Caesar? As in Julias Caesar? Or the drink...      Pietro wrinkles his noes, unclear of where the reference is coming from             - or what it’s supposed to mean.

Pietro can’t help it - he laughs, both at the title, and the claim.                           “Apologies - Star-Lord --                     quaint. I imagine the legend must succeed you.” 

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lastzenwhoberian:

“So, your advice is that I should take both?”

          “My advice is --                    do as you’d like.” 

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cosmicjive:

Goddamnit, he’s a good thief as well. Fucking asshole. He snatches the mirror with his free hand to get a closer look.  “Yeah, yeah, ‘s fine.               Don’t fool yourself, I ain’t payin’ ya for the privilege of gettin’ stabbed.” Any kind of semi-medical procedure that happens on a park goddamn bench should be free. In Peter’s mind. Not that his translator implant procedure was much fancier than that.  “Y’know, I’d’ve liked t’know what your definition of ‘reasonable success’ was before I let ya near my handsome face at hyper speed with sharp stuff.  ‘Mora’s my super awesome space girlfriend who’s green. And has a massive sword to fight my enemies with.”

          A job well done, and he brushes his hands together.                       “Money’s immaterial - keep the drink, too.”          The unchosen studs are on the bench, but he assumes the man will be taking those. 

        “You asked, I executed, it happened.”                  Pietro shrugs, “Will you be continuing to dwell on it?” 

                    “Ah. Gamora.    I know her.                               She’s quite lovely.                                   And what’s your name?” 

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cosmicjive:

When Peter cusses him out, it’s not because it hurts, it’s because you don’t trick an outlaw you -  “Fuckin’ asshole! Gimme that.” He snatches the alcohol and drinks from the bottle again. And again, because he can sure as hell have as many shots as piercings.  “Ow. Rocket’s the second biggest asshole on this planet, ‘cause you just won the first prize slot.” He frowns, refusing to relinquish his grasp on the bottle. “Lemme see. Better be good. ‘Cause if my girl ‘Mora finds out you fucked up, you’re so dead.”

Pietro releases the bottle with a smirk, taking a step away from the man; a job well done, in his opinion, and the fact that the irritation is coming from annoyance rather than regret is perfectly manageable. 

           “It worked, didn’t it?”                - Pietro may be a cocky asshole, but it wasn’t without merit ( in his opinion ). 

  Pietro procures a hand mirror from the purse of a women walking by, and holds it up.                      “I’ve been called worse,” Pietro shrugs,                    “But I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t sure of a reasonable amount of success.” 

      “Who is “Mora”?”

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cosmicjive:

This was probably one of the better ways to experiment with his Celestial genes. After all, he wouldn’t die from an infected ear. It’ll be cool. He’ll be fine. Just, hopefully he can trust this guy when he says it won’t hurt.  “I like that one. A pirate would totally wear that. Little gold stud won’t do much damage if Rocket tries to steal ‘em out my ears.”  Maybe he should’ve thought this through more. He takes a swig from the bottle and hands it back. “Okay. I’m good. Before I change my mind. Wait - you’ve done this before, right? Okay.”

Pietro sets aside the package the man chooses, nodding his agreement absently; the quicker the better, in his opinion, and he takes back the bottle of alcohol, soaking a swab in it. 

                    “Nope,” Pietro answers with a confident smile; 

      - he’s never done this before, but he knows he can do it. He’d watched it done in Sokovia, it’s straight forward enough, and the whole thing is done before the man can blink: one stud neatly inserted, a pinprick of blood on a cotton swab, the area covered with some ointment from the tube that came with the package of studs. 

             “What is Rocket?” he asks, quickly - he doesn’t want the man to have enough time to think, anticipation is the worst enhancer of pain -- 

      Another blink and the second ear is completed, two perfectly set gold studs. 

                                        “It shouldn’t get too sore.” 

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hearthecall:

Steve’s grin widens. He knows the admission must’ve cost Pietro something, but it had been made for his sister’s sake. He’s never known that particular protective urge, the one a brother feels for his sister, so to be in the presence of it is bittersweet.

                “ Mm. “

He doesn’t have much else to say in the face of that fact. Guilt burns hot and stinging in his blood, shame a greasy accompaniment. As if he has any right to claim to be picking up pieces when it’s his fault that so many are broken and scattered in the first place…

The contrition Pietro sees does little to assuage his own lingering rage, the unacknowledged trauma and the maddening memories he still harbours.  But it’s... something, despite Steve having no direct part in his own experiences. 

         “And some of us have pieces that will never be found again;                      disintegrated, ground into a fine dust.” 

     Alas, with the conversation well and truly in the gutter, Pietro attempts to change the subject - he doesn’t, after all, want to entirely alienate someone who considers his sister a ‘friend’, despite the trepidation he feels towards that whole idea. 

                               “You don’t fancy my sister, do you?” 

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lastzenwhoberian:

“And you know what you’re talking about?”

             “Those signs are catered towards the typical and boring-                          -- I’ve never had an interest in either.” 

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cosmicjive:

Peter sits down and totally doesn’t clench his fists over the material of his jeans. It’s fine. He was gonna get ‘Mora to do it this way anyway. Right? It’s fine. Fine.  “The alcohol’s for me, right?” He puts on his best nonchalant face. Damn, he was not kidding about the speed thing. Is that…the guy who took ‘Mora for a ride?

          “Disinfectant,” Pietro corrects,                   -- though if it’ll help -  he shrugs, offering the bottle.                              “But if you’d like.”     

The man seems nervous, but not so nervous that Pietro has to wonder if he really wants to do this.   Nerves were an everyday part of... lives that were not his own, and so he elects to ignore it, though he does offer a distraction, passing the options for the piercing he’s collected over: 

               “Are any of these adequate?”