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Okay, so having awesome ice powers (whose status as "awesome" fluctuated with Bobby's moods, but details) and being reasonably athletic meant that Bobby was, naturally, pretty in to winter sports. Sure, he still couldn't skate all that well when forced to use proper skates, but the aforementioned awesome ice powers meant that didn't actually prevent him from playing hockey or participating in other skating-related sports.

But hockey wasn't what he was here for today. No, a portion of the lawn had been transformed into a sheet of ice with blue and red circles on either end, and Bobby was sitting- rather uncomfortably- on a large circular piece of granite with a handle sticking out of it, as he read over the sheaf of papers in his hand.

"I don't get it," he admitted, finally, making a face at the curling rules.

[ooc: for the wife! or... anyone who feels like calling, i suppose.]

Hey, you've reached Bobby Drake! Only not really 'cause I can't come to the phone right now. Sorry about that. Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Unless your name is Scott Summers, in which case I won't call back just 'cause I know it'll annoy you. Kidding! Kidding! Scotty, I'll totally call back. Really.

So, yeah. The wedding was totally a Thing That Was Happening.

Formal invitations had, of course, gone out ~~in a handwavey fashion~~ letting people know that June 29th was a date they should make note of. Bobby privately thought it was kind of silly when they could have just texted or called or emailed everyone, but actual printed and mailed invitations made Sookie happy, so who was he to say no to that?

Now it was just a matter of waiting for RSVPs. And maybe calling a few specific people to make sure they'd actually gotten their invitations because as much as he'd never admit it out loud, Bobby was feeling neurotic as hell about this whole wedding deal. He really didn't want to screw this up.

[ooc: open to calls, texts, emails, and of course the fiancee. if you think you got a wedding invitation, you did.]

So as it turns out, Fandom wasn't the only place where people had disappeared. Over in Westchester, only occassional glimpses of one very dishelved and grumpy looking Robert Drake had been managed over the past two weeks.

Apparently, one of the drawbacks of living in a mansion, or at least this mansion, was that several other people lived there too. Several other people who either couldn't afford to have someone do their taxes, had never done taxes due to living in underground sewer systems most of their lives, or were just too damn lazy to hire someone else to do them.

So over the course of the past few months, they'd all come to Bobby with stacks of paper and pleading looks in their eyes. And like the helpful guy he was, he'd said yes, leading to his current predicament.

He hadn't slept in what he was certain were days, because every time he closed his eyes they were still there. Numbers. Everywhere. He ran a hand through his already-dishelved hair as he tried in vain to figure out if there was some way to write off a trip to outer space as a business expense.

[ooc: open for the fiancee, or anyone who'd like to call/text/email or whatevs.]

So... moving day. Sort of. Bobby hadn't actually finished packing up his stuff in Fandom yet, since he still had, like, people to say goodbye to and all that, but Sookie's stuff was all ready to go, and moving in together meant he totally had a legitimate reason to claim one of the bigger rooms in the mansion (not that any of them were small, but. You know).

So today had been spent portaling over Sookie's stuff and then hauling Bobby's up a flight of stairs.

"Ugh," he declared, flopping dramatically on the bed. "I am done."

Bobby. Most of the room was still in boxes.

[ooc: for that girl and nfb for distance!]

True to Bobby's prediction, they had indeed not ended up back in Fandom after last night's escapades. Rather, there had been a safari adventure that had escalated rather quickly and... Bobby really only had the vaguest recollection of why he'd fallen asleep outside, clinging to his best friend.

... Well, okay, he knew the answer to the second part and that was that Warren's wings were all fluffy and kind of comfortable.

"Nrrrph." On some planet that may have been something resembling a 'good morning' greeting. Maybe.

[ooc: for the safari-goers!]

So summer was just about drawing to a close, and that meant that soon even those recent graduates who'd stayed behind on the island for the summer would be headed off. Naturally, this meant one last sort of hurrah needed to be had: in the form of getting really, incredibly drunk, of course.

And while, yes, there was totally a bar on-island they could do that at, there was also one off island, and it had become a weird sort of tradition now, anyway.

[ooc: NFB since mainland and for Those Guys and some SP.]

Like many other people in Fandom today, Bobby woke up with fewer hands and more hooves than was normal for him.

"Gah!" was all he intelligently had to say as his attempt to get out of bed was only somewhat successful, as he was wrapped in a goddamn blanket.

"Arrrgh!" came the muffled cry of frustration from beneath the vaguely blanket- shaped lump. No matter how he flailed his hooves (hooves!), he couldn't find the edge of the blanket, and he couldn't see because the blanket was over his head.

Really not the best start to the day.

Some people, after years of sharing close quarters with a roommate, might be glad to finally get the room to themselves.

Bobby... was kinda finding it a bit too lonely for his liking.

At least he still had Thor?

He had the rabbit on his lap and was kind of idly giving him ear-skritches as he sat at his desk and worked on some budget allocation stuff for Kennedy. No, not for her workshop, for that other job of hers- which meant figuring out how to adjust for rates of inflation between 2003 and 2012.

He'd told Angelica his door was open anytime she wanted to talk about whatever had gone on back home, so he made a point of making sure his door was literally open while he worked.

[ooc: expecting one Amazing Friend (that she visited is okay for radio, conversation NFB), but also open!]

After too many rounds of poker to count, a good portion of the Space Battles marathon, and way too much junk food than was healthy for your average teenage male, Bobby had finally made his way back to his own room and flopped out on the bed, sleeping the sleep of the thoroughly partied out.

So when he woke up Saturday morning to what seemed like an insistent, low-level buzzing, he just assumed Warren was watching TV on his laptop or something.

"C'n you turn it down, buddy?" he muttered, rolling over and pulling a pillow over his head.

And then sitting up with a start, because something here was not right. Scrambling out of bed, he immediately noticed two things: one, he once again had the whole girl-body thing going on. Two, he was not in his room. A quick survey of the room located a hand mirror, and he held it up to his face with trepidation. When he saw the face looking back at him, he shrieked and flung the mirror across the room.

"Okay," Bobby said to himself. "Okay. Breathe. Phone, phone, she's gotta have a phone around here somewhere..." Finding said phone, he dialed, well- himself. What the hell had she done to him?

[ooc: for the one whose body he's inhabiting!]

"Oh no, no no no no no..."

Why yes, yet another of Fandom's normally biologically male residents was waking up to find they were in possession of girlparts today.

And shockingly, he was less than pleased about this.

Bobby was just going to hide under his covers and whine to himself for a while, thank you.

[ooc: door is closed, but post is open for the roomie or anyone who'd like to try dragging him out of there.]

While there was no shortage of people on the list of those Bobby actively personally disliked, very few of them had ever shown up in Fandom. Now, not only was one of those people here on the island, but Bobby was actually stuck being in the same room with him at least once a week. All in all, it was a decidedly unpleasant arrangement that made Fridays one of his least favorite days. Well, class with Scott salvaged it somewhat, but not entirely.

In any case, he was pacing nervously as he waited for Tara to show up, trying to figure out what he needed to say- and how to say it.

[ooc: expecting

life_inshadow, but door is also propped open for threads set chronologically before tara's. details of convo w/ tara nfb please.]

So, as per usual with these sorts of nights, there had been many, many drinks. Followed by ridiculous ideas. And then more drinks. And penguins dressed in cat tutus. And then more drinks.

Which totally explained why there were five teenaged boys piled in a bed in a hotel room in Iqaluit, now the proud co-owners of a penguin sanctuary.

"Mrrrph," Bobby mumbled, burying his face in the shoulder of... whoever that was next to him. At least he didn't drool in his sleep?

[ooc: for them guys! and nfb due to canada.]

...Look, what other way was there to deal with ridiculous Fandom shenanigans than excessive drinking?

Okay, there were plenty of ways, several of them healthier than getting ridiculously drunk, but this was the way Bobby chose to deal with things. He'd made a few calls to people of course, since getting drunk alone was just saaaaad.

[ooc: estaaaaaaaaablishy and nfb.]

So far, Bobby had made it through the day without bursting in to song. Well, besides the humming to himself as he'd made up a couple sandwiches to take to the beach for his training session with Angelica (being a mutant was hungry work, okay?). But that wasn't all that unusual in and of itself.

Putting the basket with sandwiches and other assorted snackery out of the way, he flopped down on a rock and just enjoyed the view. It was kind of nice to go to the beach when it wasn't all gross and hot out.

[ooc: for the Amazing Friend! That they met for lunch is okay, details of conversation/happenings is not, lovely squirrel friends!]

The talk with Sookie had made a few very important things clear for Bobby. The first was that his father was well on the road to recovery, and didn't actually need all that much help day to day anymore. The second was that as much as that coupled with the fact that nearly all his earthly possessions had been wiped out (save for the few things he'd been keeping with him at his parents') had him feeling adrift and like there wasn't really any place where he belonged, there was someplace where he could feel that way again.

Fandom.

Not to mention, Sookie had her own schooling to get back to. As much as having her around had helped during those difficult months with his father, he felt guilty about uprooting her- even though it had actually been her idea.

Anyway, the end result was he'd looked in to re-registering at the school and had found that the first week of classes hadn't quite passed by, and that there were open spots in a couple of the Friday classes. That taken care of, he'd booked a portal and headed back.

Small problem? Once he actually got to the dorm room he'd once called his own, he realized one very important fact: he didn't have a key anymore. And sure, he could've just gone down to the office and gotten a new one, but this was Bobby Drake we're talking about. He didn't think of that.

Instead? He was just gonna knock on the door to 324, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and hope that Warren hadn't been assigned a new roommate since he'd been gone.

[ooc: guess who's back, back again? for the roomie primarily, but also open otherwise omg.]

"I am not enjoying this!" Cecilia Reyes wailed as she, Bobby, Sookie, and Marrow ice-slid through the woods on the outskirts of a quaint little hamlet called Salem Center.

( I kind of got that impression from your nails digging in to my neck, but thanks for spelling it out... )
[ooc: preplayed with the effervescent

justwantsquiet. some dialogue snagged and altered from x-men #70. nfb for distance, tbc in comments, offer void in quebec.]

It all started ( with a newscast... )

[ooc: cut for length and extensive speechifying. dialogue taken and slightly modified from the operation: zero tolerance crossover. oh, 90s comics. nfb for distance, natch.]

to the wonderful anonface who gifted Bobby's account with paid time <3 <3 <3 YOU ARE A ROCKSTAR.

The Auditors weren't the only ones concerning themselves with worlds suddenly getting... messy. Millenia ago, a group of beings called the Celestials had willed a world into existence out of the desire to perform an experiment.

That experiment had culminated itself in the birth of Franklin Richards, who'd created his own world-experiment in a desperate bid to save those he loved. Which pleased the Celestials, as it meant their work had not been in vain.

Except now where there had been one world there were suddenly two. This could not be allowed. And so they'd been prepared to offer Franklin a choice: destroy the world of his birth, or the world he'd created. Only one could survive.

But then, somehow, the choice was made for him as one of the worlds winked out of existence. The Celestials didn't concern themselves with the hows or whys, just that it had happened and it was for the best.

[ooc: ...because this was nicer than asking a toddler to destroy a reality.]