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multiverseofmiracleshq · 3 years

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For the third year in a row, the Stark Memorial Gala was held in New York to honor those lost to the Cleanse. Like always, proceeds went to the Mutant Outreach Trust, Stark Memorial Fund and the Natasha Romanoff Foundation for Girls. Those invited to this exclusive event are guaranteed to have something to talk about the next day.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL INCOMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

TONY: Here’s something no one ever really expected— Tony Stark being present at the Stark Memorial Gala. It was easy for him to have a short laugh at the irony of the whole situation, especially since he’s had time to adjust to being back. Stepping back into the spotlight was like walking through a memory, though. He was still himself. He was still Tony Stark, Iron Man, blah blah blah. But he was different, and there wasn’t really a way around that. There was a lot on his mind as he waited for the perfect moment to officially kick everything off, holding a mic and tapping a repetitive rhythm on its handle with a few fingers. Eventually he turned it on, straightened his bowtie, and walked out with a smile. “Hello everyone! Welcome, welcome! I gotta say, it’s nice to see all of you again. I’m sure it’s just as nice to see me back up here. All of you really missed me throwing words in your face for a few minutes before every party. But shh, shh I’m not pausing for laughter. To get back on track, it’s amazing to see so many people here tonight. We have a few charities that are close to our hearts receiving support tonight: the Stark Memorial Fund, The Natasha Romanoff Foundations for Girls, and the Mutant Outreach Trust. It’s gonna be an even split between the three, so keep the donations comin’ throughout the night. It’s all about helping those who need it. That’s what heroes do, right?” Tony took a small pause, then continued. “Alright, you know the drill. Like always, my advice is to have fun, give generously, and try not to be too stupid. Let’s all have a great time and do some good while we’re at it! Happy Holidays and let’s make this New Year start off on the right foot!” Then he switched his mic off, gave the crowd a peace sign, and walked away to join the festivities.

ALEX: Champagne flute already in hand, Alex adjusted his bow tie with his free hand, listening patiently as Stark made his speech. Despite the occasion, nothing good ever came out of these events for Alex - and going into the evening with a preemptively negative attitude didn’t bode well for the younger Summers. But he’d make the best of it - whatever that meant - and if he needed a little alcohol in his system to make things easier, well then, so be it.

QUILL: Peter kept tugging at his collar, two fingers pulling at the starchy material and loosening the too tight black tie around his neck. Man, but he was already sweating through his shirt, he could feel it sticking to his back. "We promised no dancing right?" he said under his breath to Gamora, who was standing just a little off to his side. He'd had to let go of her to start rolling up his sleeves when the ballroom didn't offer any air circulation. "The only moves I know are the electric slide." he tried for a smile and hoped he wasn't doing too much. Since getting her memories back, they hadn't been to something like this-- and even for him, it was suffocating.

PETER: Tonight Peter was wearing what was possibly the nicest outfit he’s ever worn. Tony had offered to get him something new like he did every year, and for once Peter agreed. It was mostly because he wanted an excuse to spend time with him now that he was back, since there was still a weird feeling in his gut when he accepted things from him without any rhyme or reason. But Tony enjoyed it. So Peter let him. It was a maroon suit, something Peter would never have thought about wearing, but he had to admit it was nice. And he looked good. As Tony was making his speech, Peter was already chowing down on some of the fancy bread that was sitting out on the ends of the tables. He smiled through a mouthful of it and clapped as best he could with some still clutched in his hands. “Oh crap—” His words were muffled through the food in his mouth as he glanced down to his suit, realizing he was getting crumbs all over it. “You can’t wash suits, right? I gotta be careful.”

JULIAN: "Look its not my fault we're late -- you're the one who decided to babysit the dog and I wasn't going to walk in here covered in dog hair." Julian grumbled as he plucked two flutes from a passing waiter and offered Kate one. "Besides, if you hadn't gone for round three we'd have been here an hour ago." He took a sip from his glass and chanced a glance around the already crowded room. "I have a feeling body shots are out this year. Damn."

CABLE: "I can think of a hundred things more terrible than a Stark party. One, being stuck in my dad's moon house having to listen to my baby brother wail all night. Two, stuck listening to my dad give me another round of strategy lessons. Three..." his voice was quickly drowned out by the din of the ballroom and Nate cast a glance around, recognizing some but not enough. "Oh I miss Krakoa parties." he said a little to himself, a little to Lana.

BUCKY: The most embarrassing thing on Bucky’s mind tonight was the amount of time he spent trying to make his hair look okay. Back when it still had length to it he had eventually mastered pulling it back and being done with it. Now it was short again and he was learning a whole new style. But there was one thing he was learning— and it was that people seemed to like it when he thought it was too messy. So that’s what he tried to go with tonight, even if he felt that it was a bit too casual to be paired with a suit. “Am I the only one who never knows what to do at these things?” He glanced to Wanda with a soft smile, lightly tapping a metal finger against his glass of champagne.

NATASHA: It was strange to hear her own name, especially in conjunction with a charity gala of all things. Natasha had been a lot of things over the course of her life and good person didn’t always rank. There it was though, one of her aliases next to a real, tangible thing that helped people. And not only people. Girls who were lost or had been taken advantage of. There had been no one there to save her. Natasha had to save herself even if it took decades. Even though ‘Natasha Romanoff’ wasn’t her birth name there was still a brief appearance of tears that she quickly blinked away. Due to the tight security at the gala there was an ease that had settled over her. Most there knew she and Steve had gotten married even if they had put a raincheck on the big ceremony thing. After everything that happened she had just wanted to get it done and enjoy their second chance. Bells and whistles would one day follow. Her hand was connected to Steve’s but Natasha was making her way towards Tony, knowing her husband could detach if he wanted to. “Feels strange to have people giving money in my name, but I’ll always support a good cause.” She tilted her head towards him before a smile flickered over her lips at the sight of Tony. “How long did you practice that in the mirror this morning?”

CRYSTALIA: As much as she didn’t want to be the pregnant person who couldn’t stop complaining about being a pregnant person, Crystal was teetering on the brink of being just that. She was two months pregnant, and yet, about to burst. That was due to her boyfriend’s mutant genealogy, a quirk the Inhuman doctors had yet to crack. The baby - their daughter -was by all accounts full term and ready to come any day. They had attempted to give her a due date but the entire pregnancy had turned into a game of we’ll see how it goes and Crystalia had no choice but to wait to see when a human exploded out of her. Hair pinned into a crown and adorned with flowers, one hand was on her tulle covered stomach and the other clutching a flute of water. “Is your sister coming?” She turned to Pietro, the light yellow layers of her dress swishing slightly.

SAM ALEXANDER: Sam had only ever owned one suit. A dark blue tuxedo he’d reluctantly worn to junior prom and then never again. But this seemed like a good enough time to break it out, right? His mom seemed alright with it, and Kamala hadn’t immediately laughed at his appearance upon their meeting earlier in the evening, but now, after stepping into the gala and seeing everyone else looking - ridiculously expensive - Sam was not so sure. “Alright, well— uh- we can’t drink. Do we mingle? How does one mingle...”

TONY: Tony gave Nat a smirk and shoved his hands into his pockets as he replied to her. Then he gave Steve a nod hello and offered up a nonchalant shrug. “Just once. I’m nothing if not a professional. Normally I would just wing it but with us having the added flare of being back from the dead, I figured I should put in a little effort this time. I will admit uh.. it’s nice to be back. Feels almost normal, you know?”

STEVE: Steve was use to events, though it felt like it’d been a while since he’d bothered to attend. he followed natasha through the crowd of familiar faces, dressed in a traditional suit and tie—which somehow seemed underdressed compared to the attire that seemed to be going on tonight. as she spoke, steve chuckled “Get used to it.” She was bound to attract the appeal of the sympathy donation for all that she’d done, it was a good tactic and she deserved the recognition. plus it went toward a good cause. “Normal?” steve sighed, though it was more content than anything else. “I’ll drink to that.” he smiled. “Maybe we can get it to last longer than a week?”

NATASHA: Steve and Tony, talking with ease and getting along. Natasha and Tony, not dead but breathing in the same public space. “Thank god you boys clean up so nicely.” She knew that she did as well, dress plunging and also revealing a sliver of leg. “And what, exactly, is normal to the three of us? Robots or mad titans?” Maybe the government collapsing. It was day dependent.

SAM WILSON: It wasn’t every day that he got to roll up to nice events a beautiful woman on his arm. Most of his time at the Avenger’s party had consisted of Sam, a beer and either Steve, Rhodes or Barnes. Now, Rogers was with his wife and Sam hadn’t seen Rhodey in a minute. Even though they were likely around, he only had eyes on the blonde on his arm. “--Y’know, you gotta be careful, Cap,” he was saying as they made their way across the room. “People are gonna think you like me and I don’t want to ruin your street cred.” That was both a joke a little bit true. “Now, for the important question of the night: bourbon, whiskey or rum?”

BETSY: They never got any time to breathe anymore. The chance to take off the armor and put down the ( telepathic ) sword came as a welcome relief to the constantly tired defender of Britain and Otherworld. A pretentious title, and one that she was desperate to slide away from for just a moment. The old Betsy - the model with the blonde hair who was blissfully unaware - reemerged momentarily when she put the dress on her credit card, deep purple adorned with an amethyst and gold arch at the top of the slit. It was pricey but she liked how she looked and her chest was secure in the sharp scoop of the neckline so she wasn’t complaining. Brian couldn’t be convinced to come even though Meggan had also suggested it, meaning that Betsy was making her way around the perimeter of the room alone with her drink. “Alex,” her tone was light as she came to a stop, accent lilting. “Did you come alone?”

GAMORA: Despite the fact that she had been back for the better part of a year, Gamora had made a grand total of zero public appearances. She wasn’t hiding, per se. She’d stay on the Milano or go into the New Avengers Facilities. There just wasn’t any parties or outings. They weren’t her scene and she had slowly been knitting together what it meant to be herself now. There was virtually no back to the tight black dress, the tiny flimsy straps crisscrossing over green skin. “I thought you liked dancing.” Dark eyes flickered towards him before Gamora finished her visual sweep of the room. Once she was satisfied she was able to turn and face fully with a small smile. “Or do you only prefer when it’s horrible and in your room?”

TONY: “I am so glad you said something. Now I don’t have to awkwardly hit on your husband in front of you.” Tony was in a surprisingly good mood tonight, and he was doing his best to not sabotage himself by thinking about how strange it was to be even slightly happy during the holidays. “Robots are so last year. But I’m not going to tempt you into using your imagination because I happen to be very superstitious and like Steve said— we’ll be lucky if this calm lasts the week.”

YELENA: Like gum that you couldn’t get off your shoe, Yelena continued to appear at events where she was assumed she wasn’t wanted. It wasn’t true, but she hadn’t quite been able to wrap her around that yet. Still, there was a part of her that desired acceptance and approval. Maybe it was the years of being conditioned to achieve and attain. All Yelena knew was that she had taken time on her hair and makeup. The dress - while white - managed not to look like a wedding dress due to the missing fabric under her non-existent chest. She had been ready before James had picked her up and now she stood by her side. Natasha was there, but like all the other times Yelena just turned in the opposite direction. “It’s too pretty here.” The corners of her lips tugged downwards. “Someone’s got to get in a fight.”

JESSICA: Despite the fact that she once had a live in manny, it had been hard to secure a babysitter. Maybe that was on Jess. No, scratch that. It was definitely on Jess. She could have asked Roger but she felt bad when she was planning on attending a party with someone else. He had moved out anyway and back with Kallie for the foreseeable future. It was for the best. That was what she kept telling herself, at least, as she flicked a dark wave away from her shoulder and the strap of her red dress. “Aw, look. Carol’s with Sam. Maybe that means I can talk about it now.” She could keep a secret but Jessica hated them. She was too impulsive to remember to hold things in. “We need drinks, Barton. First and foremost.”

LORNA: Who didn’t want to attend the biggest party of the year with their dad? Lorna had become a diligent daughter. She divided her time between the Boneyard and the Monarchy of M where Dawn was living. Erik made a fuss about bringing honor to the Monarchy of M but Lorna admittedly liked having a purpose. She existed best when she had a reason to. Without one she began to lose direction and that had never led to anywhere good. “I’m surprised you didn’t give a speech. You love to hear yourself talk.” Lorna’s voice was wry. Her neck was hurting from the massive pile of green curls that was piled on her head and her dress was tight. Ever since she had Dawn she noticed things like that more, but Remy was coming later and she had to look good in case he ever decided to get on one knee.

KAMALA: The whole thing had been nothing short of a CIA sting. Her parents -- for very good reason -- knew nothing about Kamala’s second life. She couldn’t exactly say Nova was taking her to Iron Man’s holiday party, so instead she dealt with the pang of guilt and lied that she was going to Bruno’s to study. Nadia had been thrilled to help her get ready ( maybe too thrilled, but it was cute ) and her dress was conservative enough to make her comfortable. With the goal of staying out of any pictures, Kamala arrived on Sam’s arm with an eager smile. “--This is awesome. Like, maybe the coolest thing ever. We mingle. We definitely mingle. But where to start?”

WANDA: She had half been lost in thought, gaze focused on nothing in particular on the dance floor. Wanda didn’t mind parties. She attended even when she felt alone. Then, she had Vision. Now, she had Pietro. She existed in the middle spaces. Crystalia was incredibly close to delivering and Wanda hadn’t even suggested attending with Pietro as she knew the unborn child and its vessel deserved his attention. She was a big girl who could handle hanging out at the desert table to see if Steve or Clint showed up. “--Oh,” she shook her head. “I usually eat the cookies. I don’t drink, so, it’s seltzer water for me.”

KATE: “I’m not babysitting the dog, Julian, He lives with me.” Kate reminded him once again. It had been difficult to get out of her sweatshirt and leggings even though it was just as nice as the dresses she had worn back when she wasn’t a broke ass bitch. The lilac of her dress meant that she had been spared the trouble of golden retriever fur all over her. Instead, she had needed Julian to zip her in even though the zipper was buried by layers of light fabric and tulle. “Listen, I thought you had four in you and that’s my bad. I also underestimated my getting ready time. You like how I look though, don’t you?” She arched a dark brow. “Damn. Maybe at Clint’s tacky knockoff party.”

LANA: “Don’t act tough. You love the baby.” Lana was hiking up the skirt of her dress to avoid getting stepped on. “And your moon house is really @#$@# cool. You should try living on the Champions Mobile Bunker. Tres chic.” Violet eyes rolled. “I’m pretty sure every Krakoan party is an orgy. Which is impressive and concerning.

MICHELLE: She was putting effort in. Effort towards what? That depended. College had been good for Michelle. She had found a few freaks like herself and was coming out of her shell some. Her previous participation in the Stark Scholarship Program meant invites to other events that made Stark look good, like his charity. For the entire week leading up she said she wasn’t going to attend. Then, three days before, she went out and bought a dress she wouldn’t have before and showed up. Just like that. A part of MJ longed to be home with her books but instead she went to the snack table to check out their bread selection. “You can dry clean them,” she answered automatically without looking to see who was speaking. Peter. They hadn’t really seen each other since graduation. His identity was public and some classmates made the connection and asked what it was like to be Spider-man’s girlfriend, to which she had almost redirected them to Gwen. Now here they both were with him looking admittedly adorable in his suit and her being very tall but well dressed in the black and maroon of the tightest dress she had ever worn. “Hey, tiger. Nice suit.” She wasn’t sure what to do with her hand so she grabbed a random cracker.

ALEX: Alex was mid-sip when Betsy approached, tilting the glass back instead as he quickly downed the rest of the champagne, “Betsy— hi. Uh, yeah. I guess. I’m surprised my name was even on the list,” a curt laugh followed his words as he glanced ( as respectfully as he could ) at Betsy’s ensemble, “You look lovely. You uh—“ Alex glanced around, “—come here alone as well?”

PETER: “Ohhh right, right—” Peter nodded and then swallowed, using his one free hand to carefully scrape the crumbs down towards the floor. When he looked up and saw who it was that happened to answer him, he froze. “MJ.” He blinked a few times and gave her a quick glance from head to toe, trying not to be too obvious. Then he cleared his throat. “Hi. Thanks, uh— Tony he, well he picked it out. You look great.” She really did. “I should have remembered you would get invited to come tonight. It’s really nice to see you. How’s everything been? How have you been?” Per usual, Peter was unsure of what to do with his hands. In a spark of mild panic he set his piece of bread down on the table next to him and then shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, only to take them out again a few seconds later. He almost offered MJ a handshake, he almost went in for a hug, but ultimately he did neither of those things. Damn, he was not good at this.

SAM ALEXANDER: Sam knew Kamala’s parents were unaware of her alter ego, which was a feeling wholly unfamiliar to him. His father had been a Nova, and his mother had been well aware of his father’s profession. There weren’t a lot of secrets in their family. But he understood Kamala’s situation, and would do everything he could to help keep her secret. Sometimes, however, that secret life lead to things like this. Attending the Stark Gala— and mingling. “Uhh— that is a good question,” Sam’s gaze drifted around the room, “Trying to pick out someone unintimidating, “I have no idea.”

ERIK: Erik gave his daughter a sideways glance in response to her comment, one eyebrow perked up in a dramatic fashion. “And here I thought I might have earned some praise for relenting my time to Stark instead of hogging the stage for myself.” He took a moment to fiddle with his cufflinks, even though they were already perfect. “I’m doing my best to learn when to talk and when to not. Progress is progress, wouldn’t you agree? And perhaps someday it will be you making the speeches, instead of me.” A short pause. “—in case I haven’t said it yet tonight, you look beautiful Lorna.”

BUCKY: Bucky took another sip from his glass and chuckled. “Cookies and seltzer water. I’ll have to try that sometime. Usually I’m not a big fan of bubbly stuff that doesn’t taste like anything, though. If you ask me, plain water is the way to go.” Alright, so apparently he could at least handle talking about food. That was progress in the small talk department. “How’s it been having your brother around for the holidays again?”

BETSY: At his apparently flustered response, Betsy tilted her head to the side with an amused chuckle. He went for champagne but she had skipped ahead to the ever elegant whiskey. It hit harder and that was more her style. Her new tastebuds had softened compared to Kwannon’s sharp ones but she was soldiering through the burn. “I think being a Summers will always put your name on the list.” It was nothing more than a casual observation, neither good or bad. She had known the Summers for a long time to varying degrees. Betsy had no quarrel with them currently. She couldn’t help but laugh at his compliment - and the corresponding thoughts - before smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. “Thank you. Considering how much this cost, I’m very glad to hear that. It’s been forever since I’ve been allowed to be pretty.” She tossed back the rest of her drink and glanced to the bar. “Woefully. I thought I’d try my hand at meeting someone here.”

MICHELLE: At the sound of her name coming from his mouth again the best thing MJ could do was flatten her lips into a pursed smile. She was over him. Of that she was roughy 70% sure. Michelle had made a living not being the sentimental type. He was her first love and therefore her first heartbreak. Why then did she still want him to see her? “Tony, right. I was going to text you or something to see how you were doing with all that, but then there were classes and meetings and....” Distance. There was distance between them and she forgot how to cross it. “You like?” She couldn’t help but turn to the side slightly to show the dress. “It’s, like, a lot. But my friend Danika liked it so I thought I would wear it even though I’m here alone and it’s 90% rich white people.” Her favorite crowd, really. Michelle was still holding the cracker so she tapped it against the heel of her other hand while she collected her thoughts. “--S’good. I’m good. I’m dorming which is nice because my Aunt Anna was ready for an empty nest. School’s good. Idk about you but Empire is chill. I’m thinking journalism. How are you, Spider-man?” She swallowed around the inevitable. “And, uh, Gwen.”

KAMALA: Wow, there was a lot of people. Were there always? She had never been to a Krakoan Outpost. Even though Kamala herself tried to be personable and agreeable she was still an Inhuman and the mutants weren’t super hip on them yet. Kamala bounced slightly on her feet, eyes wide as she took everyone. “I mean, I know Carol pretty well. It’s that whole marvelous thing. But is she... is Carol on a date with Captain America??” She made a mental note for an update on her Avenger’s fanfic that was eighty chapters deep. “Maybe we should start with punch. Punch is simple.”

LORNA: “Mhm, well, I’m surprised that in all your years of life you haven’t learned that you just can’t win.” She was being facetious. The mutants were, by most accounts, on a winning streak. She’d hate to see what it would look like when they lost again. “Of course, father. But I’ve made plenty of speeches. Underground, Hellfire Club. They’re never well received. Now I only give drunk speeches. Better for everyone.” Lorna couldn’t help but blush at her fathers compliment, head ducking. Here she was, almost twenty-five years old and still craving praise even though she had gone years denying that she wanted it. “Erik. Dad. Gambit’s coming tonight. We’ve been seeing other and you’re going to be kind.”

CAROL: For a woman who spent most of her time in flat soled boots or tennis shoes, Carol was doing surprisingly well in her heels – a strappy pair that lofted her just enough that the hem of her white dress brushed the floor gently. She still had to ball up the right side of it to keep other people from stepping all over her, but she was happy for the break from hoodies and spandex. Tossing Sam a warm smile, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, even if it was lovingly. “I’m pretty sure I was starting to hear spinster behind my back.” She commented as they approached the bar. Even as she let go of his arm, Carol kept a hand pressed lightly to the small of his back. “Bourbon. Double, neat.” She supplied to the bartender. “Jeez, when was the last time we got to do this? A year ago?”

QUILL: The laugh he let out was almost unexpected, but Quill quickly recovered. “We agreed to never speak of that again. Besides,” after locating the dance floor and then the bar, he refocused his gaze onto Gamora. “I’m more of a Footloose guy. I can get down to a little bit of Bowie, some Marvin Gay. This,” he pointed to the ceiling. “Is not dancing music.” He pushed his sleeves up a little more. “Now I did hear there was a buffet. Hungry?”

JAMES BUCHANAN: James had slung his suit jacket over his shoulder as they entered the Gala, his free hand trailing touches across Yelena’s lower back. The crowded room was causes pinpricks to roll under his skin and he had to fight the urge to bolt. Instead, he focused on where his feet were planted and tried to keep a marginal amount of distance between them and the other guests. “You want someone to get in a fight?” he asked, his tone dipping humorously. “Big parties bore you that much?”

JULIAN: “So when did we decide to get a dog?” he said with a smile as they hit a couple of empty tables. He loved the Stark Galas; they reminded him of the parties he’d attended before donning the black sheep label – and Stark sure knew how to splurge on them. Nothing felt cheap or worn, and Julian reveled in the few hours they’d have to be the people they once were, even if Kate was happy to shed that part of her. Without faltering, Julian spun her gently, the edges of her dress twirling out as he did so. “Do you need me to compliment you a tenth time tonight? You look damn gorgeous, Kate Bishop.” Her name came out a little breathlessly and Julian gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “You think I’d get invited to one of those?”

CABLE: Nate made a sound at the back of his throat. “He drools you know. On everything.” But she was right, because buried under his chiding tone was a bit of adoration he couldn’t suppress. “Maybe I want to live a little rugged. I am mostly cyborg – living life in luxury is hardly my scene.” He fanned his arms out a bit to make his point, the whirring of his metal pieces speaking up as if to agree. “The orgies are only half the fun,” he joked.

CLINT: Clint pulled at the edge of his deep purple vest, more a nervous habit than a serious concern that it was riding up. He wasn’t sure where the feeling was coming from – the energy that was settling in around him. Maybe he’d been trapped inside his one bedroom too many nights, watching reruns and eating stale pizza – or maybe he knew these Gala’s always promised something more dire in the future. A bit of light before the darkness, if you may. Tugging again, he searched the din for the sound of Jess’s voice, but it was hard to pin it down through his aids. So instead, he turned towards her, just in time to catch her suggestion for drinks, but he knew she’d said something before that. “Sure --- wait who’s together?” he tried to follow what was her eyeline and the pieces fit together without her having to repeat it. “So Carol finally settled.” He remarked good-naturedly. “We should buy Sam a round for that win alone.”

ALEX: Alex eyed the glass of whiskey in Betsy’s hand as she finished off the drink, realizing a bit too late that that was sort of an option here. Getting shit-faced wasn’t necessarily the classiest thing to do, and this was a classy event, so Alex would have to be smart about this. Just enough to drink to dull his senses a bit, but not enough to ruin the party. He let out another laugh at Betsy’s remark, shaking his head, “Well, only the most eligible bachelors are in attendance tonight. Take your pick—“ he gestured to the crowd full of mutants and humans and heroes alike, before signaling to the bartender that he’d like a whiskey as well. Top shelf. Scott could afford it.

WANDA: “Tommy told me a joke,” Wanda smiled as she tried to remember. “It’s spicy water. That’s funny.” In a dumb kind of way, of course. There was a lot of things that Wanda had missed in her childhood that she was now experiencing. She wasn’t any good at dumb humor but it still made her chuckle. “Pietro and I are Jewish. We never celebrated Christmas and the holidays became difficult after we were ten. This is the first season in a long time where I’ve felt warm. Does that make sense?” Even with holes, it felt secure. “Do you have someone to spend time with?”

SAM ALEXANDER: Sam leaned around Kamala to gawk at the duo before realizing how ridiculous he probably looked and stopped, attempting (horribly) to be a bit more inconspicuous instead. “Holy shit you’re right. When did that happen? Wait do we go talk to th—” He glanced over at the punch bowl the moment Kamala mentioned it, “- no, yeah. You’re right. Punch. Punch is good.”

BETSY: He didn’t order her a drink and Betsy didn’t need him to, so she leaned back against the bar and gave the bartender a nice telepathic push to replace her glass. She thanked him with a smile and took a long sip. “Any of the bachelors? I’d consider a bachelorette as well, but everyone seems nice and coupled up. That’s how these things always go.” Before, she had been on Warren’s arm. He was tall, blonde and too perfect while Betsy remained a slender shadow by his side. They were on fine terms now, but there were moments when Betsy missed the wholeness of human connection. “And what about you, Alex?”

SAM WILSON: Moving carefully to ensure that no one stepped on his dates dress or knocked her over, white flashed as Sam smiled. “It’s the cat. I tried warning you but I’m scared of him. That Flerken’s going to eat my face.” Goose had taken Fury’s eye. If he had messed with him then Sam was definitely not safe. When Carol released his arm he gave the bartender a good natured smile before ordering the same with a casual “Thanks, man.” It was easy to get distracted looking at Carol. He had spent a lot of time observing her in different lights, from the tired planes of her face after combat to the way the light softened the edges in the morning. She was a marvel and he was honored that he got to work with her, let alone call her a friend. “It’s an annual gala, so that sounds about right. Last time we were all together we were fighting Osborn.” A shadow crossed his face at the thought of Osborn’s escape. But he didn’t want to darken the night. Sam tried to shake off the thought as he raised his glass. “To you, Carol Danvers.”

ALEX: Alex raised an eyebrow curiously at the mention of a bachelorette - he hadn’t even considered the option. Huh. You learn something new every day. “Fair enough,” Alex shrugged, realizing just how right she was. Shit— it was out of the norm to come to these events alone, but at least he wasn’t the only one. But what about him. He had been casually flirting with Tabitha for some time, but ( and perhaps it was the alcohol’s influence ) it still left a sour pit in his stomach to see Lorna in attendance with someone that wasn’t. Their relationship was long over, though. No use dwelling in the past. Just the lonely, shitty present. “Uh, nope. Single and loving it,” he groaned, his tone painfully sarcastic as he raised his glass to Betsy’s - clinking it against the other before taking a large swig of whiskey. His nose wrinkled slightly at the burn as it crept down his throat.

GAMORA: “You agreed. I didn’t.” Gamora shook her head, the pink ombre of her hair moving around her bare shoulders. “Be proud of yourself. You try.” Before she had both admired and disliked that about him. Gamora was impressed by how he threw himself wholeheartedly into things but when it was his initial pursuit of her she hadn’t been impressed. They had come a long way. “Kevin Bacon.” Her tone was serious even though they had gotten into a fight after she learned the truth about that movie. Something had been thrown ( by her -- quill had never been violent ) but they had somehow ended up in his bed lost in an ocean of warm, scratchy sheets. She swayed slightly to the beat, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. It was for him. Gamora’s body felt in this moments where her mind wasn’t her own but that of the Gamora had died. If the last few months had taught her anything it was how to push past it. “Terran food is too salty.” Her nose scrunched before she pointed a finger towards the buffet. “That way.”

CAROL: She turned so she was leaning back against the bar, her drink cradled in her hand. Her nails were painted a simple nude, but her hands were bare of any jewelry save for a thin silver bracelet. It glinted against the dim lights as she crossed one arm over her chest and cast Sam a small smile. "It's also Stark. Annual is a relative term for him." The routine they'd settled into felt more like coming home than Carol had imagined it could --- her brief affairs over the years had burned out faster than they'd begun, mostly due to her attitude, her job, her duties. There were only a few people in the world who knew Carol better than she knew herself, and she couldn't believe she was falling for one of them. The woman in the mirror warned her that she was a bullet ripping through people's lives, leaving dead bodies in her wake, but Carol ignored the voice. Ignored how it told her she'd just leave Sam ruined and broken. He was stronger than her and so much more than she deserved, but she couldn't pull her gaze away from his face. Couldn't get enough of the sound of his voice. They fit too well together, their minds and bodies moving in sync --- it was just too, too good to give up. Smiling behind her glass, she tinked the edge of his softly with her own. "We've been through this before, Sam. Just because I'm the first to hit something doesn't mean I should get praise for it."

BETSY: One shoulder shrugged at his reaction. Her bodycount was high. Betsy had never shied away from the lovers she had taken over the years as their minds and bodies imprinted on her. For someone who felt cold she had craved the fleeting warmth of another. But that was then. Betsy lived in moderation now even if she had nearly finished her second glass. There was a pleasant buzz in her head intensified by the whisper of minds around them. Alex wasn’t terrible company either and fine to look at. “I’m terribly sorry, but I have to remind you that I’m a telepath. And Lorna’s lovely, but you worked as well as Warren and I did. But we don’t need to talk about that. To new, better decisions.” With that her second glass was gone.

REMY: The shop would be shut down for three weeks, they'd said, and tonight was the last night before the New Years holiday that Remy could get in. It'd meant that he'd be late to the Gala and wouldn't be able to escort Lorna in, but for him, there were far more pressing matters. It had given him enough time to pick up the velvet box and drop it off at home, shower and change, and now he was pushing through the thick crowd at the entrance over an hour late. Spotting bright green hair wasn't the toughest quest in the world and he was almost to her just before he saw who she'd attended with. Pulling up short, Remy instinctively resisted the need to turn on his heel and call Lorna later with apologies that he'd gotten stuck in traffic -- but it was a lame excuse and even worse, both of them would know it was a lie. Swallowing his pride and probably a good amount of his dignity, Remy approached with a wry smile towards Erik and a softer one towards Lorna. "Sorry I'm late," he was suddenly too sober for this. "Erik, I didn't think I'd ever get to see you out of your helmet." there was a bit of sarcasm beneath his tone that he couldn't help and so he faced Lorna instead. "Tu es belle chérie" It was quieter and softer. And then, "You too Erik. Nice, I mean." Suddenly he realized that the amount of parents he had to meet and talk to could fit on one hand if he chopped off two fingers -- let alone having to try and charm the least charmable person in the room. "Drinks?" he suggested.

YELENA: Her skin was electric. She always was hyperaware of her body and where it existed spatially but James’ hand on her back had filled her with lightening. “Honestly?” Boredom laced her words. “I’ve been to too many. You smile, you flirt. Maybe show some leg and then you finish the hit. If there’s a fight there’s always at least one thing different about each of these.” Yelena tilted her head to the side. Her long blonde hair had been pushed into a series of cascading finger waves but she kept her fangs hidden behind red lipstick tonight. “I’ll settle with you getting me a drink. пожалуйста, James.”

ALEX: Alex blinked slowly, embarrassed, “Riiight. You know, I should probably be more aware of that or it’s definitely gonna bite me in the ass some day.” He took another sip, finishing his own drink, before mumbling under his breath, “Not that it hasn’t already.” Nodding to the bartender again, Alex set his glass down onto the bartop as the man returned with the same bottle as before, and refilled it. Making note of Betsy’s empty glass as well, the bartender offered to refill hers, unsure of what sort of night the woman wanted to have. Alex, on the other hand, was already nearly finished with his second glass, but rather than accept another refill, he chose to abstain — giving the alcohol a little bit of time to settle in his bloodstream before forcing more into his body. “To new, better decisions,” he held up the now empty glass, nodding at Betsy, the tired grin on his face just beginning to reach his eyes.

QUILL: "Right. One of our six no no topics. Sorry." he tossed that out with a smile, realizing belatedly that two of those topics were older -- as in an experience he'd had with the Gamora who'd died, and not the one who'd just recently acquired her memories. He forged on, pushing that thought out. "This isn't Terran food," he said pointedly. "This is fancy food. Big, big difference. It was a mistake taking you to Sonic, I see that now." he followed where she was pointing and reached down to weave their fingers together, leading her through the crowd. "Food, bar, maybe the dancefloor after a lot of time spent at the bar. Sound like a plan?"

KATE: Cute. “I got a dog. As in, I stole Clint’s dog.” The situation was more nuanced. They had a non contractual custody agreement that worked well for both. Lucky was the epitome of an emotional support dog and she wished she had him during the nights After when she had sat up all night in a ball on her bed. An elderly man passed her, eyes a little too friendly as they trailed down her form. In Derek Bishop’s court no one had dared do so. Even before her dad was a certified super villain he had just been a mean bastard. Now there was no father she would accept help from and Kate shot the man a glare, knowing it would take .2 seconds to topple him. Even though she hadn’t admitted it aloud, Kate had picked the dress with Julian in mind. She had worn tight and revealing before but wanted something new. The deep plunge in the neckline was softened by the sheer fabric that composed a high neckline and sleeves that formed around her bicep. The slit in the leg was nearly buried by the voluminous skirt but she made sure to flash some calf. Good on her feet, Kate followed through on the turn before steadying herself with one hand on his arm. “Thirteen is my lucky number, so I’m getting close to being satisfied.” Her smile was genuine. “You’re my plus one. Maybe next year. Hey,” she paused, a funny half smile fleeting on her face. “I kind of like you, Julian Keller.”

KAMALA: When Sam started acting like a total loser ( let’s be real, they both were ) Kamala swatted at him discretely. “No idea. We talk but she doesn’t, like, give me life updates.” Maybe Kamala needed to ask her to get coffee soon. The only problem was that Carol was Carol and her face was always recognized. Why would New Jersey high school student Kamala Khan - the face behind Kamala’s Law - be hanging out with an Avenger? Nope. Too weird. Kamala pivoted towards the punchbowl and began to ladle out two cups. “I hope it’s not cherry. I hate cherry.”

JAMES BUCHANAN: James perched against the edge of a barstool, the heel of his shoe hooking around the bottom rung. He couldn't comment much on her opinion of parities seeing as the clearest memory he had of one was from 90 years ago. Anything else was messily strung together pieces of a story in a language he didn't understand and he was tried of trying to translate. Instead, he used what he knew, and that was that he knew the proximity between him and the person behind him, he knew the four exit points beyond the main entrance, and he could clearly see a path mapped out to each of them. Drawing his eyes away from the crowded floor, he eased a smile to soften his features. "You ever long for a quiet night? The booze is free," with that, he indicated two drinks, whatever Yelena wanted, and passed her the glass. "Mostly everyone is too enveloped in their own world to try and talk to you and-" he took a sip and noted the bitter tones that would do nothing to ease his sobriety. "-There's dancing. I used to be really good at that, too."

SAM ALEXANDER: Sam shrugged, understanding, but a bit disappointed - for Kamala’s sake. The Avengers often felt like the untouchables. But did Sam resent them for that? Only a little. He did however, sort of know Tony, and maybe that counted for something? “Hey— I take offense to that. I kinda like cherry,” Sam joked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before he graciously accepted a cup from Kamala, “Thanks.” Taking a sip, he furrowed his brow as he pondered the flavor, “Tastes just like, I dunno— punch.”

BETSY: “Sometimes things bite you in the ass. It’s not always unpleasant.” Betsy made no motion to explain. Instead, she just brushed purple waves away from her eyes. Deciding she would allow herself to step out of line, the telepath once again urged the bartender mentally to refill her glass and leave the bottle this time around. Dropping one hand onto Alex’s arm, Betsy used him as leverage to ease herself onto a barstool. The dress was tight and she had to angle her body so that her leg came out of the slip instead of losing circulation. “I’ve been thinking a lot, you know, about life and second chances. What’s something you want to do?” The liquid was swirling in her glass with its dark amber tones. The minds were louder now but the edges of the world were a little ore blurry and gentle. It was a nice reprieve and Betsy rested her chin in her hand.

JESSICA: It felt like she had been attending these things for a hundred years, and while Jess wasn’t sure of her age she knew she wasn’t that old. A part of her mind was at home in sweatpants watching a two year old break out laughing over something that was admittedly not funny. Gerry had been entranced by his mothers skirt, fists balled in the red until she had untangled herself and made it to her Uber. There was no way in hell she was riding her bike in a ballgown. “Carol,” she repeated as she jutted her chin towards the couple. “I think she’s in the process of settling. They’re comfortable, but Sam definitely deserves a round. Carol is rough.” So was Jess and everyone knew it. “You want a beer or are we living a little tonight? It’s not every night I go to a dead mans party with my ex.”

JULIAN: "So no chance on giving him back then?" He asked, though his tone belied his genuine like of Lucky. He'd had one dog growing up, a Great Pyrenees that'd been already twelve by the time he was old enough to learn her name and then she was gone. His parents never got another dog after that. His affinity for Lucky had a lot to do with the pieces of Julian that weren't selfish and narcissistic, but even after a year of being together, Julian still didn't admit to that easily. With a soft smile, he trailed his fingers lightly over Kate's waist, leaning down to whisper softly, "As good as you may look in that dress, Kate, the whole reason we're late is because I like you much better out of it." he straightened and shook his head. "You know, I was going for absolute loathing but I guess I'll take kind of like. I kind of like you too. Now, drinks?"

YELENA: Accepting the drink, Yelena sipped it in silence for a moment. She’d never fit in at parties because she’d never be able to relax and enjoy herself. Instead her back remained ramrod straight despite the fact that her dress did give her some room to be flexible. “I’ve had a lot of quiet nights.” She usually only made it through a handful before an ugly spree of nights out with a high body count. “You danced?” She softened, gaze drifting over the cloud. “I dance too. Ballet. It’s the one thing I’m actually better than Natalia at. I don’t do it enough anymore.” Sorrow settled over her words before she shook it off and cleared her throat. “I’m not built right to be a ballerina. Too short, too curvy.”

ALEX: Alex watched on with dazed fascination as the bartender deposited the bottle in front of Betsy, and the temptation to refill his own glass again was much too strong. But before he could do anything a hand latched onto his arm. Helping Betsy to a seated position now, Alex couldn’t help but stare - at the way the fabric draped over her body, the way the dress hugged her waist just snugly enough to be agonizing, the way her dark purple locks fell past her shoulders - ah, fuck this wasn’t good. ( C’mon Alex, you’re better than this. ) Her question caught him off guard. “I uh—“ ( But are you really? ) “—I dunno, just thinking about being somewhere else right now.”

BETSY: I hate my dress it’s just too tight. Man, maybe I’lll get laid tonight. My tie is choking me. Foreign thoughts invaded her mind but Betsy casually left them slip through like sand falling through an hourglass. It took her a moment to remember that she was in engaged in conversation with someone and his gaze was trailing over what she had to offer. Which was, admittedly, a lot. As Kwannon Betsy had existed with miles of legs and bare skin. In that moment, she missed it. She didn’t want to put her armor back on. “If that place isn’t your brothers moon home, I wouldn’t mind an invitation.”

CLINT: Clint had already redirected his attention away from the pair, settling his gaze on the array of liquor bottles that lined the shelves behind the bartender. He'd done what any sane man would do and had started at home, lining up the empty beer cans on his windowsill and slingshotting them with a rubber band and paperclip until his cab had come. It had actually been Jess's cab and thank god for that, considering he was pretty sure his phone was dead and stuffed between his couch cushions. "You think I'd come to a Stark party and not abuse the open bar?" he actually had no plans to over drink tonight, already regretting the hangover he'd have in the morning. "Should we send four shots down to them?"

JAMES BUCHANAN: James wanted to comment that his version of a quiet night was probably different than what she'd been thinking, but he instead took another sip of his drink and slipped into the second half of the conversation easily. "At least an approximation of a dance." he said with a small smile. "Nothing too crazy, but I hated being holed up inside. You could feel the tension in the air with the looming war and no one wanted to waste any quiet moments they had. So I learned to dance, at least well enough that I didn't step on any toes." A few weeks ago, it had been tiresome and difficult to talk about a life that felt more like a shadow than a memory. The person he'd been almost a century ago had died -- and yet, if James focused a little, he could still feel the buzz of budding adulthood - the last summer he spent in New York before enlisting. It was the last time he remembered being James Buchanan Barnes and not the Winter Soldier, and the more he talked about it, the more the grief grew. And yet he still spoke of his past to the only person who wouldn't pity him - and he was so ever grateful for that. "But you enjoy it, don't you?" he asked, because attempting to disagree with her was usually fruitless. "There is a studio in the city."

PIETRO: In all honesty the last thing he wanted to be doing was attending this damn event — not with a baby due any day now and precious sleep to be salvaging. Still, he’d put the suit on and agreed to escorting his beautiful girlfriend and mother of his child to be to the floor. Pietro carefully tucked one of her strawberry curls that had gone astray back into place and dropped his hand to the small of Crystalia’s back. At the mention of wanda his blue eyes cast a look around the room “she will be — i don’t see her yet. any one from your side expected?”

STEVE: Steve cracked a smile a sipped his champagne. “I guess in this case, normal’s subjective.” he said. “But I think the general population might agree with me that it’d be nice if this party ended without aliens falling out of the sky.” as he spoke, he slowly walked toward a little table with food. he wasn’t overly familiar with the display of hor’dourves but when he saw a little cone of french fries he put them on the plate and passed it to her. “what do you think of this Krakoa thing?” he asked.

GAMORA: There was a range of we’re cautious around these topics that eventually escalated to the six he referred to. Thanos - the Titan who had dominated her life - didn’t fall on either. How funny it was that the giant things in Gamora’s life, the ones that made her feel the most stripped down and vulnerable, were the ones she could share. Kevin Bacon, Twinkies and the other four topics remained off-limits. She began to drift towards the buffet, neck inclining slightly in acknowledgement. “The food that’s not related to the fast blue Rocket creature.” Hedgehog? It was close. There were some foods that Gamora liked. She liked the insides of the Oreo cookies, a trail of black cookies sucked dry left in her wake. “Bar dependent, yes. I may pass over the food.” Again, salt. On the warship the Children of Thanos had drank together, but Gamora had never been welcome in the Black Order. She took her bottle in the back of the room with boots propped up on the table.

JESSICA: “I knew you’d come to a Stark party and abuse the bar. I have Uber pulled up on my phone for the moment I have to load your ass into a car.” At least, that’s how it had been before. Before: when they were actually dating. They were on a team and it was simple. No baby, way less time learned trauma. A lot of passionate sex, though. That had been a plus. Jess couldn’t help but laugh as she gestured for the bartender to do just that. She sent them down the bar along with an air kiss in case her friend chose to look over. Bare arms braced against the bar, Jess’ eyes trailed down the fancy laminated lists of drinks. “I’ll have the I am Iron Man,” her nose scrunched. “Terrible name.”

KATE: “I’d give you back before Lucky. That’s my main man.” Even though he was Clint’s dog, her mentor understood. Kate needed Lucky and they all made it work. Her father had been strict about no pets. No cats, no dogs, no turtles. Not even a goldfish. Still, Clint would come for the dog eventually. He always did, and then her apartment was silent once more without clicking nails and an obnoxiously loud pant. Kate had never liked sleeping alone. Her mother had been too willing to sit on her daughter’s bed in the middle of the night, Kate never considering that maybe Eleanor didn’t want to be in her own next to her husband. She had grown out of it only to become afraid of the dark once more years later. The warmth of Lucky’s body as he dominated her bed made it a little easier to close her eyes, sleep settling over her for twice as long as it would otherwise. Her hair - originally an updo - was a victim of their little tryst and had been shoved into ( not so ) purposefully messy waves. She turned to face him, hand skating over his suit sleeve as she smiled. “Play your cards the right way and you may get to again. While I debate if you’re absolute loathing worth, I would love a drink that’s not Clint’s cheap lukewarm beer.”

LORNA: It wasn’t often that her boyfriend and father occupied the same space. Which was funny, really, as Remy was all but living with her in the Monarchy of M when she wasn’t in the Boneyard. Magneto, as a leader, was hard to pin down. Erik, as a father, had been distant on a good day. They made concerted effort now and their tea times were spent just the two of them or with Dawn playing on the floor. Lorna had never had a father and now she was reluctant to share him. He had been cordial with Marcos when they had met, even though she already had a screaming bundle of blankets at that point. He had never been sold but he hadn’t been rude. Lorna didn’t want to get into what it would be like if Erik and Remy clashed, so she kept them apart as casually as possible. After Remy addressed her father and Erik responded, Lorna rose on her toes to press a kiss to Magneto’s stubble lined cheek. “I’ll see you for tea tomorrow, father.” Even though their evening had been pleasant, Lorna was still quick as she and Remy made their retreat. “I always want drinks. My fatal flaw. Also, hey. You like nice.”

CRYSTALIA: She liked being doted on. Could you blame her? Pietro was tall and handsome. An asshole, sure, but she wasn’t without her own moments. She liked when people looked them and did a decent job ignoring the fact that at least some percentage was because of her distended stomach and their strange situation. “You’ve met my family.” She turned her head so her her cheek brushed his hand before it fell to her back. “They veer from antisocial to arrogant and stuck-up.” Crystal adored them but would be remiss to ignore their faults. The Inhumans had made a lot of mistakes over the years but Crystalia was determined to not let the child in her stomach count as one. There was a slight pain in her stomach off to the side, not unlike the one earlier when she had been sewn into her dress. One hand moved to rest on the side, almost like she could somehow figure out the source from the simple gesture. “At least these parties have beverages. Not that I can imbibe, but still.”

QUILL: "No, but it comes out fast and that's where the similarities end." It'd been a last minute stop, mainly for him, after he'd convinced Gamora to go on a long drive up the coast. It'd been too long since he'd seen it either, and he missed the salty, briny air. Fast food was a blow to the evening, but man did they have great tater tots. "Do you know what happens to people if they drink on an empty stomach?" he grumbled around a bite of food he didn't have a name for. He offered her some of it with his free hand. "Sure you don't wanna be a little adventurous?"

CLINT: "Awh Jess," he started, his tone cloying. "You do care." he bumped shoulders with her gently as they both peered over the bar card and he suppressed a laugh at the name and her opinion of it. "I'll take a Capscicle and a shot of Jack on the side." He twisted slightly to face Jess as they both waited, pulling out a few bills and dropping them in the tip jar as he did so. "So. It's been a long time since we've attend one of these together, yeah?"

NATASHA: It only took a smile and a few words for Natasha to excuse them both from Tony’s company before she followed her husband to the table that was steaming with food. “Aliens were 2012. 2017 and 2018 as well, if we’re keeping track. This year was political espionage.” A return to Natasha’s roots, really. She took the fries gratefully, the pit of her stomach warming at the fact that they knew each other so effortlessly. It had taken years to get there but their friendship and mutual respect had strengthened into the strongest bond she had known. Popping one in her mouth, red lips blew a tiny circle at the heat. “I think any kind of new government just popping up and demanding sovereignty is dangerous.” Her voice remained upbeat and neutral in case someone was listening. “I was dead a year. In the time it took me to come back they already had the world by its balls. I don’t love that.”

JULIAN: He clicked his tongue at that, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half smile. "Careful Bishop, with words like that Sofia may just get her chance." One girl he'd had an on again, off again flirtation with in the months prior to sleeping with Lana that had never really died down -- even if it went into a more platonic territory now. Still, he joked about it with no real seriousness. "You truly put up with a lot, Katie," he said as he indicated the bar with a tilt of his head. "A few drinks and a few bad decisions later and this might actually turn out to be a true Stark party."

LANA: “Duh. He’s a baby.” She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like Lana had any real experience with babies. Her mom hated them and had been very vocal about the fact that she had been thrilled when Lana no longer required her diaper changed. Taking both of his hands, Lana squeezed the metal one. “Part cyborg, part hunk, part asshole. It’s fine that you live with your parents. I very obviously don’t want to live with mine, but I don’t know.. You got this family that adores you and parents that call you *son*. I can’t help but be a little jealous.” Lana released him, watching as he extended his arms. “Well, I haven’t been to any. Definitely not my scene.”

REMY: "You do know one day I'll probably have to have a full conversation with him, non?" Remy asked as they weaved through the crowd towards an unoccupied space at the bar. It was filling up quick with some parties milling around, as the rest of the room began to get claustrophobic from the amount of people occupying it. "How does he know this many people?" he wondered aloud as they hit the wooden bar top and he ordered simply; just a double shot of rum, neat. Turning, he leaned forward just enough to kiss the corner of Lorna's mouth, the shadow of a smile on his lips. "Merci," he responded just as the drinks hit the bar. "You can't keep your father hidden away forever." And back to the topic at hand.

CABLE: "Yeah well, I might not remember being one, but I can say for sure I didn't cry half as much." he could hear the petulance in his voice, but there was no real honesty behind it. He loved that weird little hellspawn that was both his full brother and his half brother simultaneously. Nate looked down to where she was holding his hands in hers and he flicked his gaze up just as she started speaking. "Not full hunk? It's the eye, isn't it? Always throws 'em." It was tough to be serious in a room full of patrons getting rapidly more intoxicated and the music had begun to change to accommodate --- but Nate tried to sober up the humor and he squeezed her hand back. "It's weird Lana -- I had to accept this guy who dipped out on me as a baby and a mom who looked like the woman who raised me down to the last detail. I'm not ungrateful, and I love them both, but sometimes you have to find family, you know?"

SAM WILSON: There were parts of him that didn’t know how to do this. This: a healthy, functioning relationship pressed in between the layers of hate and grime that being a hero came with. Sure, Sam had girlfriends before. There was the one from high school, the one when he first enlisted. After Riley, however, he hadn’t found it in himself to invest in another person. Riley had been his brother in every sense of the word and in his absence Sam had decided the only thing he could do was carve out spaces for himself to heal. It had been a long time since then. His morality and humanity had weighed heavily on his mind since he picked up the shield. Where was the balance? Being around Carol had helped him realize that it feasible to be both hero and human. He still lived his life, the morning runs and the evenings spent reading to try and make sure both his mind and body were being worked out. It was just a little more full now. There was someone to bounce ideas off of when he was sipping his coffee at the table. Sometimes he’d hear water running from a tap he hadn’t turned on and smile a gap toothed smile to himself. It was nice to not be alone. “Relative is all Stark is, but everyone likes the circus.” Tony had slowed down some ever since he had been resurrected. It made sense with the kid and the wife and the expensive place Upstate. Body against hers, Sam stood with arm propped up on the bar so his chest was aligned with Carol’s profile. He was close enough to touch her, and he did. It was little gestures, like his fingers brushing hers as he passed off a cup or a chaste kiss to the side of her temple. “We’ll compromise. It’s all me next time.” The bartender then slid them four shots and he caught the end of Jessica Drew’s air kiss. “A gift from your friend and Barton. Think they put something in it?”

YELENA: She hated that what he was saying made sense. That it was relatable, almost. There had been no looming war for Yelena. There was always a war, or at least a quiet approximation of one that they were enlisted to fight in again and again, soldiers for the highest bidders. Her dancing was a commodity too, even if she tried to lose herself in the tempo and pretend that it was hers alone. “You speak well.” Yelena’s voice was quiet. Not reverent, exactly, or entranced but something that danced on the edges. Of course, all spells are meant to be broken and Yelena had never had interest in witchcraft. Her jaw feathered before she took a measured sip from her glass. “Do you know why I love ballet? It’s ugly. Everyone sees it as so beautiful, so graceful. Ballerinas are tasked with slamming their bodies on the stage and creating the illusion that it’s soundless.” It wasn’t. The ballerina heard the dull thuds the music hid. They felt the shockwaves go up their ankles and they ignored it. “It makes your feet bleed when you go on pointe, but girls love the pretty pink slippers. It’s so ugly and so beautiful. That’s what they wanted from us. Look at Natalia,” she jutted her chin towards her sister. “So beautiful and she did ugly, ugly things.” Her little monologue was over. Yelena returned to her drink. “Нет. Like I said, I’m not built right. Have you seen a ballerina? Tall and thin. They want long legs. I wasn’t built to dance.”

GAMORA: “--I don’t think I like what you are saying.” Gamora shook her head. There was one thing she would always have over the Gamora who died. Any memory on Earth was hers and hers alone. Gamora and Quill had never made it there together, her former self only ever hearing about the place her love had grown up on before being kidnapped. It was Gamora who got to experience this for the first time and she carried the win like a small flame in her chest. “If they’re strong, nothing.” A green shoulder shrugged. It was a testament to the gladiator like environment she grew up in. You knew your limits. You didn’t mess up. Still, she turned a critical gaze towards the table before pointing at one item. “What is that?”

JESSICA: She scoffed. “Yeah, well, having a kid absolutely ruined me.” Maternal instincts and shit. As his shoulder connected with hers Jessica willingly let the momentum sway her to the side. “Capsicle, really? I thought the Hulk Smash was tempting.” That was a joke. Not one bone in her body was interested in Jagermeister and she had quit Red Bull around the time she had gotten pregnant. His question took a moment to mull over, one hand running through her hair as she thought. “Four? Five? It was pre Gerry, definitely. I don’t know, Barton, you never seemed short of company.”

KATE: She was tapping one had against the bar casually, shoulders relaxed and body loose. “So we threaten each other with exes now? You’ll have to give me a minute to find my list.” Another joke. She had no problem returning barbs if the mood was right. Kate had grown up with parents in a loveless relationship. They had never laughed, never joked. It was suffocating. “I’ve had a lifetime to practice. And never, I mean ever, call me Katie. Only person who does is Clint and I’m liable to kill him any day for it.” It had been Katherine at home. Kate everywhere else. Katie had never really fit, but Clint was like an older brother and it had slid on like a glove she pretended to hate. “I skip these sometimes. I’m technically an Avenger and my partner actually is one but they all blur together. So, I’ll take whatever you’re having.”

LORNA: “One day that’s not today.” Lorna tapped Remy’s arm with one black painted finger. She thrived in busy, full places. The amount of metal in the room made her feel charged. It was tempting to hold a hand out towards the people she passed and let their jewelry rattle a little bit on their arms. “Money means you know everyone. Or, everyone wants to know you.’ She shrugged. Lorna had never really cared about wealth. There were other ways to be powerful and for a long time all she had to rely on was her own magnetism. Lorna turned her head to meet Remy’s mouth but was left with only the ghost of his kiss. A small smirk crossed her lips instead. “You can’t hide Magneto. He’s pride is too big. It doesn’t fit anywhere. And I’m not keeping him under lock and key, Remy. You could march into the Monarchy if you wanted and demand a session. I just don’t want him to come in the way of us. He’s... messy.”

CAROL: She couldn't agree more. Carol hated confined spaces and large gatherings -- the discombobulation of panicked civilians fleeing one enemy or another always made her heart race, even after years of training. Yet she attended every single Stark party, hell bent on drinking his bar under the table and not worrying about where the exits were. Even though she knew parties like this could end in disaster, she couldn't step away from the role she wanted to play: a normal girl attending a normal party with her normal boyfriend. But who was she kidding -- neither of them were, even if they were playing dress up for the night. "I'll hold you to that, Wilson." Carol said with a hint of a smile, turning her head just in time to intercept the kiss for something a little more public and a little more out of their present comfort zone. Turning again, she grabbed for one of the shot glasses. "Knowing Jess, she just made sure it was a liquor I couldn't stand cause she loves to see me pucker." She held the shot up. "She really wants to see me tango too, apparently."

JAMES BUCHANAN: That made him laugh, though it was short lived and not at her expense. He appreciated the way Yelena spoke - bluntly and without hesitation. Too many people tip toed around him, worried he might lose it or break down, when in reality, he just wanted people to either say what they meant or not speak at all. "I've never been to a show," he began "Sounds a lot like sacrifice for the sake of entertainment, but what would I know." he truly didn't because he didn't understand why anyone would willingly sacrifice their bodies for the sake of dance. But then again, he willingly charged headfirst into a war he only thought they'd win. And they'd had - but at whose expense? "Also sounds exactly like what I'd expect from the Red Room." Hidden ugliness beneath layers and layers of beauty. It made them deadly and efficient. "Does that mean you can't then, or just don't want to?" he wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue, but it came anyway.

LANA: He was arrogant but it was charming. Lana couldn’t help but lean into him. She had screamed. She knew that much. She had screamed her head off until her mother had debated blowing her up. If she had tried it hadn’t worked. “That’s one more difference between us. I have great lungs now.” Not that Lana was the yelling type anymore. She had been more combative if anything. “No, no. I’m not going to tell you what it is. You’ll have to keep guessing. I’ll give a hint: I like the eye.” The sentence was punctuated with a wink. Lana was underage and Nate didn’t drink. Maybe before she would have copped a shot from someone ( Julian Keller ) but she was feeling inspired on starting the new year off on a good start, so she nursed a Sprite instead. “Scott, Jean and Rachel now. Is that your found family?” She didn’t want to sound ungrateful. She knew his situation was hard. The curl of jealousy and longing remained in her gut though. Lori was quick to yell and her hand came closely after. She had exploited and degraded and ruined the notion that Lana could have a mother. So she had found a family. She found friends. Why wasn’t that enough to keep her content?

QUILL: He just chuckled around another bite of food, quickly filling up a plate as he went down the table. "You base a lot on strength but you haven't tried to go down Tony's bar card like it’s a frat game." he turned just as she pointed towards something that he didn't recognize. "You know, probably has a name I can't pronounce. What's the worst that can happen if you give it a go?" Peter was only egging her on out of adoration and love; their relationship having moved into a more comfortable place in the past few months. He kept trying to introduce her to things they missed out on the first time and he was determined not to waste time this go around.

CLINT: "The Hulk Smash sounds like a hangover from hell and I have work in the morning." That was half a lie. He promised Kate he'd take Lucky around the block and get his ass curtain trimmed in the morning, which meant he'd have to hop skippity skip on over to her side of the tracks and take him for half the day. Which meant watered down mixed drinks that looked like more food coloring than alcohol were his forte tonight. "Well Pop always told me never to show up alone or you'd get bullied at the door." Which was neither true nor relevant, considering what memories he did have of his dad were shit at best. "Cheers," he said, holding up his glass.

SAM WILSON: One of the most memorable Avengers parties that Sam could think of had been all the way back in 2015, the group gathering together only for Ultron to smash through the window. They had eventually dealt with the problem like they always did. It didn’t change the fact that Sam had increasing concerns about if they could ever just unwind for a night. Dating the woman who was powered by an Infinity Stone and could smash through ships helped ease some of his nerves while the others remained. It wasn’t up to Carol to save the day even when she thought it was. It wasn’t worth losing her over. She was an incredibly strong woman who could make her own choices and he respected her, but hero colleagues needed to check one another. The intercepted kiss meant that she just got another quick one before Sam grabbed one of the shots. His other arm snaked around Carol’s waist to pull her close. “You may not know it, Cap, but the community center in Harlem offered dance classes. Now, my mama was really big into being involved. Pop got killed when I was nine and she went shortly after. Kept taking my siblings to the center for as long as I could and I got a mean tango as compensation for the tragedy.” He had been taught by that same community to be glib. Black men didn’t cry. Not even when they were boys.

TOMMY: Tommy wasn’t very into the special events that involved a suit and a tie—in fact most times he avoided the tie all together. Tonight was a little different in the fact that he had a date, one that he hadn’t exactly been sporting around. Not for any reason outside of just...not really leaving either of their respective rooms. Still, it was kind of nice to get out, see his friends, stretch his legs. As he surveyed the room he noticed Crystalia looked like she was about to pop any second—how someone so little could carry that baby... “ten bucks says she delivers that kid before the night’s done.” he said turning to James, a pile of snacks on the platter he’d just snagged.

YELENA: She didn’t laugh with him, but it didn’t make her frown either. Instead, dark lips remained flat over the rim of her glass. She exhaled slightly before taking a sip, the cup finding a home on the bar without much thought. “Maybe we could go.” Yelena tossed out, a rare instance where her words made it out before her mind approved them. Yelena had learned to take her time in conversations. Some liked to shoot retorts back quickly but she moved slower. The last thing she needed was to have to shoot someone for taking something the wrong way and getting upset. Maybe we could go sounded simple but was anything but. Yelena wasn’t often in public with people she closely associated with ( why put a target on their back? ) and she had been on random dates for the hell of it but didn’t put much effort into it. She never called back after, just grabbed her shoes and slipped out. “They have good ballet in New York, supposedly. The Lincoln Center. Probably not as good as the Bolshi Ballet.” Maybe one day Yelena would explain to him why the sacrifice was worth it. The layer of deception satisfied the sadist in her but the beauty sated her unspoken desires. It felt good to have one singular thing in her life that brought other people joy, even if it had been tainted like everything else. “The Red Room can иди нахуй сама.” She scoffed as Yelena reclaimed her drink. “I can, but there’s no career in it. If I dance it’s by myself and I can only do so much. I can’t lift myself, can I?”

GAMORA: “You know I don’t know what a frat is,” Gamora muttered under her breath. She didn’t point it out every time a reference went over her head ( it, at a certain point, had become embarrassing to reflect on how little she knew about the jokes that had lingered in the mind of quill for three decades ) and instead rolled her eyes. The evening had her feeling loose though, a little lighter. The world could have been ending outside but they were in a bubble of champagne ( she knew what that was -- it fizzed on your tongue and made it dance ) and a privilege she had never acquainted herself with. Gamora had just picked up the small green item of food and observed the way they shade differed from the fingers that held it. There was a moment she lost herself and her mind went back. Not to Thanos. To before. Her family had never been rich. They had never known opulence or expensive dresses that somehow managed to cling to your skin without becoming sticky. They would never know what it was like and Gamora had never felt more like an alien who had been shoved off the spaceship and into a whole different world. She took a careful bite that severed the food in half before wordlessly offering him the other part. “I hated it here, Peter.” Gamora’s voice was quiet. “But I loved you, so I stayed. Even when I couldn’t remember I never talked myself into leaving. I’m glad. I’m glad for this. I’m glad for you.”

JESSICA: The Hulk Smash sounded like something you’d drink at a frat party before someone took a video of you getting your head shaved while shit faced. Not that Jess had ever actually attended a frat party, or went to college. Minor details. “Oh, so you have a job now?” The reply was glib. He had a more solid gig than her at this point, motherhood excluded. In reality she was happy for his spot with the West Coast Avengers. Some stability never hurt. Carol had told her multiple times she could rejoin the Avengers but every time she brushed it off with the reassurance that she was happier on the reserves, happier getting her faced smashed into the NYC pavement on her own time. “Nice. My pop just taught me that the best way to deal with your problems was to vanish into thin air.” Jess held up her glass as well, the clinking of glass nearly lost in the din of the party before she took a sip. “---Jesus, that tastes like ass. Are they using rocket fuel?”

#event: tdocm 2020 #tdocm 2020: stark memorial gala #chatlog: stark memorial gala #unfinished chatlog #momevents

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