#who remembers tux paint!!!!! its fun

[sleepyseals]

[Image Description: a digital sketch of feldspar from outer wilds in a cool pose with one arm reaching forward and their scarf flowing out behind them. End Image Description.]

I got a new tablet for my birthday and my favorite thing about it so far is that I can unlock my true tux paint potential, I dont have to use a mouse anymore :D

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!Master X Reader

The Power of the Doctor- Part Two

Summary: The Doctor is in your grasp. The stage is set. Everything is ready. Now the time has come for the next part of the Master’s plan, with you by his side. But when Yaz finally arrives, she comes to a startling realisation. Maybe the Doctor isn’t her Doctor anymore... Maybe he’s yours....

Notes: Ok so! I took a month break just to get my head in gear after writing a fic every day, and i’ve come up with a plan. A (re)Master plan if you will! Expect two more parts to this story, each dropping on Thursdays. I know it’s taken some time, but thank you so much for being so patient while I took the break i so desperately needed. God knows how i managed to write all those fics of fright! As usual, I hope you enjoy! Stay tuned for part 3 next week with some Master-Doctor shenanigans! Also, reader is an absolute nasty bitch here, and good for her- that was definitely fun to write. She is the Master's companion for a reason!

Warnings: Canon-Typical violence

The Doctor's head lulled forward, her shoulders shifting in an uncomfortable rhythm. Her eyes sprang back to life beneath flickering eyelashes, breath reclaiming its place in her chest as she awoke within the violent casing of her custom Dalek prison. The Master's hand, once musing and brushing its thumb over your knuckles, left your touch as he crouched before the rising Time Lady.

“Hello, Doctor.” The Master purred, as if waking a child from slumber.

“Wakey wakey, that's it. Welcome to the end of your existence.”

The Doctor took stock of her surroundings, each head count filling the pit of her stomach with dread. Eye stalks and wrist blasters, machines of metal and malice. Cybermen and Daleks flanked her cage in a circle, placing her as the ritual sacrifice. She placed herself in the Winter Palace, and judging by the beard the Master was sporting upon his chin, the year was 1916. This must have been his cover as Rasputin, just like the paintings- and judging by the lack of Russian guards, he’d convinced the Tsar and Tsarina to leave the place to his command.

“Say hello to my friends. I’m sure we’ve all met before.” The Master said, the Doctor's widening gaze reaching over his left shoulder. There, dressed in peasant wear and bearing an anticipatory smirk, stood your familiar face. You gave a teasing wave, the Master catching your gesture in the corner of his eye. He gave a hearty grin, pushing himself from the edge of the Dalek casing and recapturing your hands within his grasp.

“Would you look at that? Guess who I found, thanks to Tegan.”

“I think she missed me.” You suggested. The Doctor's expression was frozen, besides the clenching of her teeth. The Master hummed, pulling your arms across your waist as he pressed his torso into your back, his chin hovering over your shoulder.

“Of course she did, dearest. That look of terror means she likes you. I get it all the time.”

You giggled at the Masters toying, the Time Lord swaying the pair of you side to side, soon unleashing you into a flourishing twirl.

“Like the garb, Doctor? I love the garb, personally. As i always say, ‘dress for the occasion.’”

“Mmm, that you do.” You said, pulling yourself closer to the Masters chest, the pair of you engaging in a form of dance. The Doctors terror bled with puzzlement. The Master was grinning like a child on christmas

“Remember that tux, or that gorgeous suit on the cheetah planet? Oh, that priest outfit in Devil's End!”

“Personally, I remember that red robe a little more fondly.” The Master tilted his head, turning to the Doctor with a disapproving sigh.

“See Doctor, Tegan can complain ALL she likes, but was she the one I nearly sacrificed to the devil? I don’t think so.”

Parting from you once again, the Master placed his hands upon his hips in front of the captured Doctor.

“It’s hard work, y’know. Planning all of this, ruining your life. First you have to think up the blueprints, then it's all the tiny details, then you have to get to set dressing. Setting, disguises, we’ve been trying to think of a name for this whole thing for weeks! We’ve tried everything, haven't we?”

He chided, glancing over his shoulder to see you nodding in agreement.

“The Master’s Dalek plan-”

“The Cyber-Dalek Master plan-” you suggested, the Master gesturing earnestly.

“The Cyber-Master-Dalek-Plan. Just can’t quite get it, can we?”

The Master sighed, clasping his hands together.

“But in the end, I guess, we could just call it… the day I killed the Doctor.”

Nodding to the rest of the room over his shoulder, the Master gave the Doctor a narrow eyed wink. A shiver sent itself down the Doctor's spine.

“With a little help from my friends.”

The Doctor scoffed, scrunching her nose in disbelief at the Master, a small smile on her lips. This was the small confidence boost she needed.

“A fanatic and two warring races don’t count as friends. You’ve tried to kill each other before, you hate each other.”

A scowl fell upon your face. The Master wagged his finger in the air, letting out a small tutting sound. 

“I’ve still got the Cyberium, and a little pre-Time War extermination can be forgiven.”

The Master's hand reached towards the Doctors face, finger booping the end of her nose condescendingly. The Time Lady pulled away, scrunching her nose in disgust at his smile.

“The one thing stronger than their hatred of each other… is their hatred of you.”

“It just took a handsome, gorgeous, incredible genius to point it out to them.”

You teased, joining the Master’s side, looming over the Doctor's imprisonment.

“Was that sycophantic enough?”

You asked, raising an eyebrow. The Master laughed in reply, sending you an amorous wink.

“That's your thing, isn’t it Doctor? What's that age old saying?”

The Master sprang to his feet, stalking around the circle shaped room in the Winter Palace. He snapped his fingers, as if trying to pluck the thought straight out of thin air, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Ah!” He called, snatching into the air.

“What unites us…” He began, swaying and snapping one more in a hypnotic rhythm, light on his feet. He looked like those old cult leaders, leading spirited chants and hooking listeners onto his every word. You were under his amorous spell already. 

“Is stronger than what divides us. Now that's VERY you, that, isn't it?” The Master continued.

“I mean, you’re quite the hippie these days. All peace and love, stronger together, fight the power, save the turtles. Hell, that new TARDIS of yours practically doubles as one of those salt lamps. Charging those big crystals with the powerful vibes of friendship, are we?” 

The Master chuckled, a matching smile on your lips. You could see him thriving in the moment, picking apart every thread he could pull at the Doctor's exterior. This was the thrill the current face of the Master had kept from Missy. Breaking down the enemy with the sharp stab of sarcasm.

“All that friendship, that big gang you keep around. It seems you let anybody in these days, just inviting every Tom, Dick and Harriet into your TARDIS. Is it because you’re lonely? Still reeling from all those companions you’ve lost? That wife of yours? Those in laws?”

The Doctor's face had hardened into unbreakable stone, a lump of pure hatred festering in her throat as the Master circled back around to meet her glare. You watched from the sidelines, eyes batting between their expressions like a game of tennis.

“Are you mourning the family you could never keep a grasp on? Is that why you call them your Fam?”

The Doctor took a heavy breath through the nose, refusing to dignify the Master with a change in her exterior.

“You have yours,” He whispered, beckoning you over with a small wave. You joined your love at his side, his arm slipping around your waist as he flourished proudly. The hand was pulling you close to his side. You happily obliged.

“And I have mine.”

The Doctor finally swallowed the lump in her throat, her mouth dry and hearts thumping in her chest. Whatever this was, all the grandstanding and the mockery, must be in service of something much bigger. The Master was planning something huge. She needed to know what it was.

She glared at the Time Lord, watching him muse so sweetly over you, the human he’d pulled into his thrall. She’d spent enough time around you to know this was no hypnosis trick. No mental enslavement, no threats of coercion, not even a sliver of manipulation.

You weren't the child who would jump off the bridge because everybody else did.

You were the child that would laugh as they pushed the others off first.

“So all this… just a diversion?”

She asked calmly, peering down her nose as best she could, grasping hold to any power she could hold on to.

The Master gave a sudden snarl, darting forwards towards the Dalek casing with a ferocious glare. He yanked the Tissue Compression Eliminator out of the pocket of his garb, thrusting the golden gadget towards the Doctor's face.

“No!” He hissed. “No, No! Not a diversion! Very, very important!”

The Doctor was instantly reminded of his venomous twist on the plane, all those years ago. The baring of his teeth as he snarled and spat, the monstrous anger that corrupted his face. 

“Three phase plan.” The Master gestured with his fingers around the TCE.

“You’ll see… except, maybe you won't. Don’t want to give anything away.”

“Spoilers.” You hummed mockingly from behind, a velvet lilt to your voice. The Doctor's glare pierced you for only a millisecond, yet you still felt the punch to your exterior. The Master huffed, snatching back her attention.

“Trust me, Doctor. You soon won't have a thing to worry about. Without you… Earth will fall. Fast.”

The Doctor sighed through her nose, pressing her lips together.

“How many times have you made that promise?” She all but whispered, years of victory in her chest.

“And how many times have I been here to stop you?”

The Master glanced up to see you lurking beside the Dalek case, a knowing twinkle in your eye. You watched the Master break out into a small smile, tilting his head. Almost like a comfort to the Time Lady.

“And how many times did I warn you about what’ll happen today?”

He replied, nodding softly.

“Maybe now you’ll learn to listen to me. After all this time.”

Pushing himself once more from the proximity of the casing, the Master trudged to the other side of the room with heavy footsteps. There you stood, waiting for his touch, and with a heavy groan the Master let his head fall upon your shoulder. He took a long sigh, letting his eyes flutter shut in contemplation. His face held the many grizzled years of his existence, his disguised eyes hiding the gaze of a very old man. You happily gave him comfort, even in his times of theatricality. Which, judging by the level of his exasperation, this certainly was. Knowing he was playing up for his audience, you withheld your desire to stroke his hair. No matter how silly he looked in that wig.

“All this nostalgia, Doctor. It just hurts the brains.”

The Master groaned, finally opening his eyes to meet her glare.

“Giving everybody what they want, bringing back the good old days. It gets rather tedious after a while, don’t you think? Well placed nostalgia, however, never goes out of style. Which is why I'm going old school.”

“A touching tribute to your elders, I'd call it.” You suggested, the Master's hand trailing dangerously low down your back. Thank god for his miniscule amount of self control. And for the amount of layers in your skirt. He pondered the thought for a moment.

“Yeah, that's a nice spin on it. Thank you, Love.” The Master said, raising his head from your shoulder and watching the Doctor in anticipation.

“Ah, speaking of our elders! Tell me, Doctor. Do you remember… The ultimate sanction for breaking a law back home?”

The Master had prepared you for this moment. He’d practically worshipped the thought of it, the fear creeping into every crevice and pore of the Doctors face, the terror seeping through her features. He’d been excited enough when he initially planned to reveal his new visage in Australia. But this… this was what he’d been waiting for. The Doctor looked truly terrified.

“Oh, I know this one!” You insisted, smiling sickly sweet. The Master raised an expecting eyebrow.

“I’d say it's… forced Regeneration!”

The Time Lord gave a proud grin, clutching you tightly to his side.

“Good girl. Gold star.” He purred low, watching you preen under his praise. Your foreheads pressed together, noses brushing against one another, the Masters breath hot on your skin. In any other moment you could have fallen victim to ecstasy, happily indulging in desire- but your heads turned together slowly to meet the Doctor's panicked face, the pair of you locked in a victor's embrace, staring her down like a pair of starving wolves.

“They did it to her before, didn’t they?”

You whispered, the Masters hum reverberating through your skull.

“Maybe more than once, Love. Nobody knows. Not even her.”

“You can’t-” The Doctor hurriedly argued, her blonde hair shaking as she refused to believe your threat.

“That would take an impossible amount of energy, you don’t even have the technology.”

The Master chuckled, trying to suppress the growing smile. He was nodding, almost furiously so, his laughter coming out in rapid huffs from his nose. You could feel his excitement brewing. He was winning. He could feel it.

“I do.” He sneered, eyes unblinking. “I do… I do!”

You gave a content sigh as the Master pulled away.

“Not the first time I've heard that.” You sang, the Doctor blinking in bewilderment.

“When we ransacked Gallifrey, we took everything!” The Master cried, circling around the Doctor, almost skipping upon the tile.

“Everything, Master?” You asked in mock disbelief.

“Everything!” He replied “Anything with could get our hands on. If it wasn’t nailed down, it was mine!”

“But!” You interjected, casually leaning against the closest CyberMaster. The robotic warrior didn't even flinch.

“Where could you possibly get all the needed power from?”

The Master paused in his antics, rubbing at his beard in thought and loudly pondering. You looked at the CyberMaster for any ideas. Its face remained blank in reply.

Suddenly, you snapped your fingers.

“If only you had a planet custom built for this purpose.”

You sighed dejectedly, inspecting your nails before suddenly bursting back to life.

“Oh wait, you do!”

The Master laughed maniacally as he raced around the circle, grasping hold of your hands in front of the Doctor and sighing dramatically once more.

“All we need now is a gorgeously large palace.” The Master mused. You sighed in agreement.

“Preferably one that sat at the perfect angle under said custom planet.”

“And had optimum space for incoming Cyber legions and Daleks.”

“And had no Tsar and Tsarina in it to bother us.”

“That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it dear?”

“It would, Master.”

“If only we had that.”

The pair of you hung your heads with a frown, the Masters thumbs once more caressing over your knuckles. You could feel the anxiety rippling over the Doctor in her cage, your eyes meeting the Master's devious gaze.

“Oh wait, WE DO!”

You cried in unison, your dangerous laughter suffocating the room. The Doctor watched the pair of you gloat, the Master placing his hand on his hip.

“You did get that bit, right? Because I didn't bring that planet here just to convert organic life to Cyber…”

The Master promised, narrowing his eyes and raising the tissue compression eliminator to the sky.

“I brought it here to help another conversion all together.”

The Doctor's world was the pounding mass of her two hearts in her chest, each one racing at different speeds of impeccable, desperately fast. Her surroundings held no meaning to her, the pulsating lights of the ceiling no match for the rush of her blood to her ears. Your merriment was secondary, your dancing around the room a bizarre afterthought to the Time Lady. The Master had promised her forced Regeneration. An impossible feat for a single Time Lord, but not for a crazed, empowered lunatic with an army at his command. The Doctor felt like she was drowning upon the dry land, her throat closing up with scratchy, dried fear- her brow drenched with dread. Meanwhile, you danced. You sang and paraded and cheered for your victory, laughing at your husband with adoration and dancing with reckless abandon. Even the Daleks and Cybermen were sharing strange glances. The Doctor shut her eyes, just for a moment, her brains fizzing with every possibility. She needed the moment to breathe. To think. To hope.

That moment, that precious time, was stolen from her by the clanging impact of hands upon the metal of her confinements.

“Let's get you out of here, eh?”

The Master offered, grasping hold of one side of the Dalek.

“Say wheee!”

You jeered from the other, your laughter echoing through the Winter Palace as you excitedly pushed the Doctor out of the room.

Soon, the stage for your victory was set. The two grand, glass chambers shimmered in the light, glowing against the ornate tile of the winter palace. The surrounding militia of Daleks and Cybermen stood on guard, watching with great intrigue. With a harsh shove, you pushed the Doctor into her chamber, the glass door slamming shut and locking the Time Lady inside. The Doctor pressed her hands against the glass, staring down at you from her platform. You studied the crunched lines and sad curves of her face, her fingertips turning white with the pressure.

“I didn’t know you were still alive.” The Doctor admitted softly.

“I’m…”

“Sorry?” You finished. Her lips pressed tightly together.

“Yeah. I thought so. Might as well get your last minute sympathy attempts out of the way.” You said, hands falling to your hips.

“Because pretty soon, it’ll be too late.”

“Don’t do this.” The Doctor whispered. You gave a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes.

“No, you don’t do that. Don’t try to be nice to me. Not now. It’s too late for you to start pretending you ever liked me.”

“Now you’re sounding like the Master.” She replied. 

“I wonder why.” You hummed, sparing a glance to your husband, who was currently fiddling with the last parts of his machine.

“I did like you. Even though you were pretending to be my friend.”

You smiled at the memory. It was the distant past now. The Master, dropping you off on the side of the road in Sheffield, his TARDIS an old street lamp. He’d hugged you tight and pressed a solemn kiss to your knuckles, before letting you disappear through the doors, stepping out into the real world. You’d been placed perfectly to join the Doctor's ever growing Fam, infiltrating her ranks and pretending to be her friend, until you were whisked into the thralls of the Master's plan and returned to where you belonged. Another layer of Heartbreak. Another thing she’d know that was a lie. Though you’d happily admit your time with the ever positive Time Lady wasn’t as torturous as you’d imagined, the stench of her animosity with your husband permeated the air like a noxious gas. This was the woman who’d left him to die, foiled his plans and bested him time and time again.

 No matter how hard she’d unknowingly tried, scrunching her nose and grabbing you by the hand, leading you across the galaxy- she wasn’t your Doctor. You could never consider her a friend.

Enemy of your lover, enemy of you.

“I liked having you in my TARDIS.” The Doctor continued, her voice strained.

“I liked travelling with you.”

You gave a disbelieving scoff.

“I find that hard to believe. Graham, Ryan and I were basically set dressing for the great Doctor and Yaz romance.”

“That's not-”

“True? It SO was. Y’know, if I was to get psychological, I'd bet you kept a full house to try and pretend you didn’t like her. Don’t kid yourself, Doctor.”

You poked your finger against the glass, eyes narrowing.

“You’re going to die today, and you can die knowing that you failed. You were never my friend, and you were never my Doctor. The only person you ever cared about will watch as you die, never knowing how you truly felt about her. Thinking you didn’t care, just like all your other little friends. They never got you, Doctor. But I will.”

You inched closer to the glass, nose centimetres from the surface. The Doctor pulled herself away, swallowing in indignation.

“You’re a coward, Doctor. Scared of your own feelings. Scared of your own two hearts. But just you wait. I’ll get my Doctor soon.”

“I forgive you.”

She said solemnly, her fingers leaving the glass. You shook your head, your own touch retracting from her new cage.

“Yeah. I bet you do.”

You said in reply, before retreating to the Master's side.

“Tore off your half of the BFF necklace?” He smirked, locking the final piece into place. You gently swatted at his arm, leaning into his side.

“Don't act like you didn't cut her face out of all your pictures too.” You murmured, the Master giving a coy smile.

“It’s cute. I loved that bit about her being a failure, very poetic”

“Don’t you start. Is everything ready?”

The Master nodded firmly, stepping away from the control panel and cracking his knuckles in resolution.

“It’s all ready to go. Just watch, Love- I once made a paradox machine out of a TARDIS. I was pretty proud of that, not easy stuff. But this?”

He sighed, clasping his hands together in delight.

“My best work yet.”

You nodded in agreement, a sudden pull of doubt yanking at your chest. You turned to the Master, admiring every contour of his face. Even beneath the disguise you could recognise every pore and feature. His face was one you knew well, one you’d spent countless hours admiring and adoring. His smile, his scowl, even his sadness- you’d seen them all upon his face.

“It’ll work like you said, won’t it?” You asked quietly. The Master pulled his gaze from the looming structure above your heads, watching your expression carefully.

“Exactly like you said?”

“Exactly.” The Master replied, tilting his head. He inched closer, narrowing his eyes.

“I know I'm a little unpredictable, but still… why?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” You stated, inching closer to the Time Lord yourself, your hand reaching to softly cup the Master's cheek. The Time Lord's eyes fluttered shut as your thumb softly caressed his exposed skin, just above the line of his beard.

“Any part of you.”

The Master smiled, his new, blue eyes practically glowing with confident ambition. He watched you carefully, his hand reaching to pull your touch from his face. He placed a quick peck to your wrist before pressing a kiss to your knuckles, specifically just above the shimmering wedding band that sat on your finger.

“The last time you did that I didn’t see you for nearly a year.”

The Master laughed quietly, slowly guiding you from the side of the room towards the centre.

“And what happened after that? Who did you join after you left your loving Master?”

You turned to look at the Doctor, the Time Lady squirming in her transparent cage. Like a trapped bird, flapping her wings and trying to flee to the skies. Realisation began to creep in.

“The Doctor…” You answered, a satisfied smile appearing on your lips.

“I went with the Doctor.”

“Exactly.” The Master whispered, pressing the same kiss to your knuckles once more.

“I’m going old school again, Love.” He whispered, retrieving the TCE from the pocket of his garb.

“Give Yaz a ring for us, will you? I think she’ll want to see this.”

Within the amber glow of the TARDIS, Yaz found her attention pulled to the glitching and fizzing screen above her head. The hazy footage soon came clear into view, your familiar face settling on the screen.

“Calling the TARDIS. Come in, TARDIS. C’mon Yaz, I know you can hear me!”

So that was why the Master had been so calm when she’d tried to push his buttons. You were yet another spanner in his toolbox that he was intending to throw into the works. Yaz stared up at the screen as you adjusted the shot, shifting the camera to your right.

“I can’t see you, so I'm presuming you’re wearing shock and awe. Hearing me loud and clear?”

Over your shoulder, Yaz could see the Doctor. Trapped in a glass box, concern etched across her face. She gasped softly, her mouth instantly going painfully dry. Whatever was about to happen wasn’t good.

“Say goodbye to your Doctor, Yaz.”

You promised, pushing yourself away from the shot with a knowing grin.

“TARDIS-” Yaz asked, the machine humming beneath her touch. 

“Lock onto the signal.”

The door to the Masters box slid shut, your fingers touching against the glass, meeting his touch on the other side.

“When magicians go in one box and appear in the other, usually they do it so you can’t see what's inside.” You teased. The Master smirked, looking over to the Doctor's side of the room.

“Trust me. You’re going to want to see this.”

“See you on the other side.” You whispered, before stepping back into the open space.

The Master's eyes met the Doctors. His gaze, just before filled with fondness, now filled with hatred and disdain. This was the look of a man who wasn’t about to turn back.

“Forced Regeneration, Doctor.” The Master declared. Maybe so Yaz could hear him. Maybe so the Doctor could too.

“To force you…” He pointed towards the Doctors cage, finger trembling with the adrenaline racing through his skin.

“To Regenerate into me.”

Time stopped in the TARDIS. Yaz felt sickness bubble within her stomach, her heart pounding in  her chest as she shook her head in desperate denial.

“No,” She pleaded into the air. “Please, no. Oh, No.”

There was nobody there to hear her. Nobody there to heed her plea. In the Winter Palace the Doctor hedged her final bet, staring the Master down across the threshold.

“You wouldn’t.” She said, half a dare, half a plea. With a single dart of his gaze, you followed your Masters orders- your finger slipped into the cool gold of the TCE trigger and pulled.

The small box began to glow in your hands, golden shimmer against the dirtied casing.

In the sky, the home made planet roared to life, the very surface pulsating and bleeding a vivid red glow. The planet was charging itself up, groaning and thrumming like the symphony of an engine. In a matter of moments the conversion planet burst into life, the large red beam of energy surging through the twinkling skies, hurtling towards the earth. The beam pierced straight through the dome of the Winter Palace, absorbing itself into the floating square that danced above the twin chambers.

 The beam bounced around the interior of the square, bursting its seams as it split into two rivalling directions. In tandem the twin beams shot straight into the matching chambers, the two Gallifreyans dwelling inside succumbing to the powerful force.

Their hands began to glow, the fiery glow of Regeneration energy prickling and simmering at their skin. Their digits burst into celestial flame, the energy passing through every single cell of their bodies. The Time Lord and Time Lady were living beings of fire, their bodies burning and erupting like volcanoes. 

Streaks of lightning and fire shot through the Master's hair and beard, his eyes golden and glowing, a scream ripping itself from his lungs. The Doctor stared at her hands in terror, the Regeneration energy rippling over her skin, her shoulders shaking as the heat scolded every inch of her body. The light was blinding, you watched in mesmerised fear as the Master reached for the heavens, his screams piecing the air as the Doctor cried for Yaz in agony. Her whole body began to twitch violently, her gold streaked hair falling across her face as her whole exterior began to glitch and change. 

It was as if her very being was trying to fight the transformation, her shoulders rocking backwards and forwards as her face began to shift and morph. Her cheeks bubbled, eyes bulging and mouth agape in fear as her old face melted away, the flame of Regeneration energy melting away her expression, a familiar one finding its place atop her shoulders. There came a sudden boom of light within both cages, causing you to shield your eyes. It came like a supernova, burning hot and blinding, and you stumbled back at the ricocheting fizz. 

The old body of the Master slumped forwards, hitting the glass wall with a thud, the life drained from the figure's face, the box filled with dissipating steam. 

The whole room stood still, stood silent. Until there came a breath of life.

In the Doctor's box, the figure stirred. Hunched and panting, clutching onto the diamond shaped crest, the figure reclaimed his breath. Filling his lungs, the figure groaned. Guttural and painful. Filled with new existence.

His feet shuffled in blue socks and battered brown boots, knees buckling in blue cuffed trousers, chest rising and falling under a rainbow shirt and navy suspenders, shoulders shifting in a grey hooded coat. Gold earring dangling as he shook his head, his hair a grown out buzz cut and creeping onto his forehead. Two hearts thumped in his chest. The sonic screwdriver sat heavy in his pocket.

In the Doctor's box, in the Doctor's clothes, in the Doctor's body, there stood the Master reborn.

Across the room you watched in amazement, the Time Lord staring down at his hands in shock. He inspected the back of his hands, glancing down at his feet, staring to the heavens. The world came into view from his haze, and the Master groaned in realisation.

“I did it.” He whispered, so small yet so empowered.

At the sight of him attempting to crawl out of the box, you raced across the floor to catch him. His ankle almost rolled as he took the step from the top of the platform, his body falling against your own as he sank down to the tile floor. He pushed his hands against the ground, the cool of the tile soothing the tingling in his palms. His cheeks were warm, his forehead sweating like a fever patient, his eyes flickering madly as his brains settled into place. You held him like a precious object, scared to break him in your touch as he came back down to earth. His shaking hands crawled their way up your arms as you held his face between your hands, his voice shaking with disbelieving triumph.

“I did it.” He whispered once more, his forehead pushing itself against your own.

“It worked, I did it.”

“You did it.” You replied, pushing the hair from his forehead as he gave a hesitant laugh. 

“It worked, I did it, it worked.” He was chanting, as if trying to believe it himself. A smile was creeping up the corners of his lips, his hands clutching at your shoulders as his crazed eyes met your steady gaze.

“I… am… the Doctor.” He whispered, madly smiling with his full grin. You laughed in triumph, and the Master, now the Doctor, laughed too.

“I did it… I’m the Doctor.” He declared excitedly, his lips crashing against your own.

You sank deep into the kiss, his frenzied passion pulling you close, his hands grasping at the back of your neck as he yanked you into his hold. You sat up on your knees, allowing his touch to command your body, your noses brushing together as you dissolved into his mouth. His kiss was still the same, the scent of his skin, the power in his grasp. You moaned into his mouth, the Time Lord groaning softly to himself as he fisted his hand into your hair. You gasped for breath once you parted, the surrounding metal legions the last thing on your mind.

“You’re still you, you’re still mine.” You panted out, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. The Master preened, licking his lips in satisfaction.

“It worked, Love. It worked.”

Behind you came a sudden and all too familiar wheeze, and the Masters merriment soured. Rising to stand you watched as the blue police box phased into existence, your arms still wrapped tight around the Master-Doctor. His brows furrowed as he gave a disapproving scowl, watching as the box landed onto the floor of the Winter Palace. The surrounding legions turned to watch as Yaz tentatively crept out of the box- by now the scowl on the Master’s face had turned into a devious smirk.

“Oh hello, Yazmin Khan.” He drawled, watching the young woman weakly step into the room.

Yaz stared at the glass box that had once held the Doctor with a pained expression, before turning to stare at the pair of you with a clenched jaw. You rested your head against the Master's shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist as he stepped towards her. Claiming him as yours.

Yaz’s voice was stern. “Where’s the Doctor?”

It was more of a statement, rather than a question. The Master chuckled, scrunching his nose in enjoyment. Yaz glared harder, clarifying.

“MY. Doctor.”

“My Doctor now.” You purred, hand caressing down the side of his face. The Master leant into the touch, smirking proudly.

“This one’s mine. Yours is gone.”

Yaz stared at you with palpable disgust, her eyes raking over the way you were pressed into the Masters side.

“No-”

“It’s true, Yaz.” The Master called, resting his head atop your own. “She’s really gone. Forever gone.”

Yaz shook her head, stepping back and swallowing the lump in her throat. The Master raised a hand out to her, earnestness crossing over his features.

“Please Yaz, don’t worry. It happens to all of them. You’ll get used to me.”

He glanced down at your content expression, brushing the hair from your face.

“Everybody will. You’ll all come around, you’ll see. Especially you though. Because you’re coming with us.”

Yaz stood back once more, stunned. Her breath was ragged, shoulders rising and falling as she stared at the situation in abject horror. You nodded eagerly, the Master smiling at her with wide eyes.

“Yeah, you’re coming along too!” 

The Master-Doctor grasped hold of your hand, pulling you along excitedly as he clenched his fist with joy.

“Come along, Khan!” He called, whooping and cheering as he raced towards the TARDIS.

“Let's go on an adventure!”

Yaz stood alone in the room, not caring about the Cybermen and Daleks surrounding her. She stared at the Police Box with a powerful pain in her heart, unsure if the tears that threatened to spill were from rage or painful sadness. Her Doctor was gone, ripped away by selfish ambition. Now she was destined to be a prisoner in the ship that once felt like home.

Her gaze steeled as you stepped out of the TARDIS once more, crossing over the floor to stand before her.

“You know how it works with the Doctor, Yaz.” You said.

“Every companion needs a companion- one that’s just that bit more expendable.”

Yaz grit her teeth together as you stepped closer, her fists clenching as you smiled, sickly sweet and full of smugness.

“Of course this time you don't get to be the Doctor's favourite, that’s me. Think of the universe as a coal mine, and you’re my canary. Look-” You gestured down at Yaz’s mustard yellow coat.

“You’re already dressed for it.”

“If you think-”

“C’MON, YAZ! DON’T MAKE ME ASK TWICE!”

The Master called from within the TARDIS. You frowned dramatically, gesturing to the door.

“See, you’re already upsetting him. Not the best post Regeneration first impression, is it?”

“That wasn’t a Regeneration.” She hissed, finally stepping forward, beginning to close the gap.

“That was body snatching. He’s not the Doctor.”

“Y’know, i’ve never seen a human be exterminated AND deleted at the same time.” You pondered, staring at the surrounding metal machines.

“If you want to stay here we could happily find out what happens. Or... you could Get. In. The TARDIS.”

Yaz glowered, folding her arms in protest.

“KHAN! C’MON! DON’T MAKE ME CUT YOU DOWN TO SIZE!”

The Master called, louder and angrier than before. You tilted your head at Yaz, matching her stance. Part of you wanted to laugh, knowing how long he’d been waiting to use that one.

“Any way you try to resist this, you’ll die.” You said, narrowing your eyes.

“I’d suggest you don’t waste a good thing. Don’t you want to travel with the Doctor?”

“He’s not. My. Doctor.” She hissed, syllable by syllable.

You surged forwards, face to face with the young woman. Up close you could see all the hate for you in her gaze, the disdain she held for your very existence. The feeling was very much mutual.

“Yeah.” You grinned. “He’s mine.”

Turning on your heels, you headed back towards the waiting TARDIS door. You turned around, glancing over your shoulder.

“I know we’re keen on nostalgia today, but do you really want to pull a Grace and die on the first adventure?”

With a wicked smirk, you turned and sauntered into the TARDIS doors.

Yaz debated internally. A moment more with the fake Doctor would break her heart, but she knew deep down she had to keep an eye on him- any chance of getting the Doctor, her Doctor, back would mean keeping close tabs. Plus, the Master and you didn’t know about Vinder. Maybe she could use his help later on. Earth, the Universe, her Doctor was counting on her to win the day. She was Yasmin Khan. She’d battled Sea Devils, Daleks, Stenza, Weeping Angels, Swarm and Azure. She’d learnt to fly the TARDIS. She’d saved the universe before from the Flux. She could save the universe again from you and the Master.

Sighing to herself, Yaz allowed a single thought to cross her mind as she stepped into the waiting TARDIS:

‘What would the Doctor do?’

[seravph]

Hi, I didn't really know who to reach out for this question, but do you have any tips on how to find your own unique fashion style? I'm not really looking to hop on popular clothing trends on social media e.g. eboy/girl or cottagecore, so I'm not exactly sure where to start! I come to consult you because I've seen some of your posts and you look very well versed in fashion and you seem to know your own personal style. My wardrobe is very outdated and I would like to update it to reflect the truest expression of myself. Thank you 😊 You don't have to answer this if you don't feel like doing so btw 😅

EEEE more fashion asks i love these thank you!!!! warning this got a lil (very) long so its under the cut :^)

so first and foremost the most important part about curating your own style is to learn more about your body and what flatters/doesnt flatter it. it's learning some basic fashion 'rules' pertaining to proportions, cuts, etc. there are plenty of resources on this if you dont know where to start (kibbe body test, video, video) but keep in mind this step has nothing to do with your weight!!!! i could talk wayyy more about this but at the end of the day, some clothing is just more flattering for specific body shapes - that doesnt mean you cant wear something that isnt perfectly flattering, but knowing your body and knowing what flatters it will make you understand your own style and help guide the pieces you buy. fashion 'rules' arent necessarily meant to be followed, but just understood so that 'breaking' them is a conscious choice. (it also really helped with my insecurities???? like this step is basically recognizing that its not your body thats unflattering, its the clothing, if that makes sense???)

also remember that every 'style' works for every body type. i.e if you want to be a 60s vibe but youre too curvy for shift dresses, there are plenty of clothes in a similar style that would look great on you <3 basically, if you dont like the way a piece looks on you, you can still achieve the same vibe with a different article of clothing thats more flattering. but also umm.... you can just wear the unflattering thing if you want LOL if it makes you happy... then it becomes your own controlled decision <3 live love laugh follow your heart

okay. now that you have that out of the way. there are a million ways to develop a sense of style, and no particular order in which i recommend them. what i love doing is creating pinterest boards for the spring/summer or fall/winter seasons and just filling them with pieces i would wear in a perfect world. i dont mean like cottagecore aesthetic boards, just boards full of runway looks and clothing pngs that i like. i also love making little outfits for characters which can influence my own style. everyone thinks of their style differently; i think of my own outfits as little vignettes with narratives behind them, but other people are more concerned with just wearing things they think are pretty, other people view it as an expression of art or their identity, and other people just want to feel comfortable!!! its all up to you and what youre drawn to!!

one thing that tan france mentioned once was to go online window shopping by going onto the website for a brand you like (regardless of whether its affordable or realistic!) and just adding things to your cart that youre interested in. dont worry about how expensive they are or anything, and when youre done, remove all the items you like the least. and then keep reviewing and removing until you have just a handful of really nice items you really like, and keep doing this with other brands until you can identify common threads between the pieces you like. you dont have to buy them!! in fact maybe its better if you dont!!! and the websites dont have to be like zara or h&m ... go on balmain or chanel if you want, play pretend and have fun!!

re: the last bullet point, i think a big turn off for people in terms of fashion is the idea that you need to wear something palatable and 'appropriate.' its like looking at a runway and thinking "its nice, but i would never wear that in real life." but honestly????? in a perfect world i would be wearing full gowns to the supermarket!!!! if your ideal style is imaginative but unattainable, your style in practice will be a microcosm of it. basically... dream big... dont be afraid to 'overdress' if its what you like!! one of the best pieces of advice i ever got was from my aunt, who offered to by me a plastic tiara. i asked her when i was ever going to wear it irl, and she just looked at me and said "??? you can wear it whenever you want to!!" so true!!! wear a tutu to mcdonalds. wear a bedazzled tux to prom. who cares

accessories, nail polish, hair, jewelry, perfume and makeup goes a long way in developing style. i dont wear a ton of makeup, but just putting some color on my cheeks achieves a kind of sunkissed lovestruck vibe that i strive for. i paint my nails red because i think its chic or bright colors so they contrast with a toned down outfit. even wearing no accessories is an accessory in itself. accessorizing (or specifically not accessorizing) is like adding texture to an outfit imo

anything that advises you about 'absolutely necessary essentials everyone needs' is entirely wrong. there is no one size fits all; i.e everyone says you need one good pair of denim jeans, but i havent worn jeans in two years!!! an essential for ME is a pair of neutral wool shorts, but an essential for another person could be a thick knit sweater or for another person, a flannel. the idea that everyone needs a 'little black dress' or a 'basic white t shirt' is preposterous. YOUR essentials depend entirely on YOUR style. a pair of denim jeans is useless if you hate wearing jeans!!!!

as for my personal style, im mostly influenced by movies, books, songs, characters, feelings, colors, high fashion, and costumes. ultimately, you should worry less about what you want to be and worry more about what you already like. every piece i have kind of plays into some narrative ive constructed, or otherwise theyre all special to me :) if you want to update your wardrobe, dont feel the need to over consume fast fashion (or any fashion for that matter) to do so. if you take it slow and buy pieces you really love, every item will have a story and you'll begin to develop a more stable internal style and they'll last longer :)

let me know if you have questions or want me to talk more about any of this because i really love answering these kinds of questions!!!!!! especially the body type thing because thats such an important but long winded thing i couldnt really fit it all LOL

some more videos + resources about style and fashion i think are interesting:

deep dive into kibbe body types

pinterest aesthetics, fatphobia, and white washing

lies about clothes to unlearn in your twenties

studio ghibli: how clothing shapes identity

breakfast at tiffanys style analysis: the reinvention of onself with fashion

will the millennial aesthetic ever end?

go viral, post #spon, get canceled: how social media transformed fashion in the 2010s

analyzing the "is it a cute outfit or is she just skinny?" meme

[shadedrose01]

Only Us

Ship: Parksborn (Peter Parker/Harry Osborn)

Authors Note: A fluffy drabble I wrote quickly for fun. Based off the Spider-Man 2017 cartoon, not edited. Hope you guys enjoy! ❤💞❤

Edit: I'm stupid and forgot to add a spoiler warning. Spoilers for season 1 of the cartoon!!

--

It'll be us, it'll be us

And only us

And what came before, wont count anymore

Or matter. Can we try that?

"Cya!!"

"Get home safe, you two!"

"We will, bye!" Harry calls over his shoulder, to their three friends sitting on the steps Horizon High, Gwen and Anya in their fancy blue and red gowns, respectively, and Miles slicked back in his full black tux.

Peter echoes his words as he matches their steps, trying not to stumble as his attention shifts into the same thing it has been all damn night, Harry fricken Osborn himself and his goddamn suit. Because, while the rest of their friend group had dressed up nicely, him included in his burgundy hand me down vest and pants from his Uncle Ben and nice white dress shirt, Harry had outbeaten them all. To Peter, anyways.

The taller boy was wearing a dark navy blue velvet tux, with a bright white shirt tucked into his pants and a matching tie to bring it all together, and man is it doing things to Peter he'd rather not admit. It fits him in all of the right places, most likely tailored to him (unlike Peter's too big around the shoulders coat and rolled up pants), and the darker color brings out the lightness of his eyes, almost a cool gray in the light of the moon and yellow from the street lamps, while simultaneously meshing with his jet black hair, mostly slicked back except for the front, which had puffed back up in the hours of stuffy heat and the jumping that he had called dancing, combed back into a quiff only by his hands, messy and unmade but still so unbelievably perfect to Peter. It makes him forget how to breath, the ethereal beauty that is Harry Osborn, the perfection of the diamond that had escaped from the heat and pressure of Norman Osborn's clutches, and he barely notices that he's walking right towards a light post until he's right in front of it, and jerks out of the way at the last second.

Harry snorts of a laugh, and places a hand onto his arm to help steady him and help him keep up with the steady trot they've started. "You alright, Pete? You didn't sneak in some alcohol behind my back and didn't tell me, did ya?"

Peter turns to retort, to give back some snarky response as he always does, but then he's staring at harry again, into his bright, shining orbs and wide grin and raised eyebrow and his words dissolve on his tongue, his breath mysterious gone again. "Uhm, n-no?"

"You sure about that?" The taller boy starts at him quizzitively, but there's a hint of something else, of concern in his gaze. "You've been acting kinda weird tonight."

Peter feels his stomach twist with a guilt he hasn't felt around Harry in a while, since he had told Harry about Spider-Man honestly. After his biggest secret (or, what had been his biggest secret) had come to light, and the inevitable fight that came after was over, the two friends had been closer than ever, thicker than thieves, and they had promised to tell each other everything. No more secrets, no more lies. And Peter had broken that.

At least, for the past few months. He didn't mean to! Not really. He hadn't even noticed that he was gaining feelings, and feeling more for his childhood best friend until Anya and Gwen had cornered him in the lab and asked how long they'd been together, why they hadn't told them. After they talked, and he figured out he liked- no loved, its love at this point (oh god)- Harry, he didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to tell him that? When there was no sign that Harry felt the same (no matter how many times the girls, and then Miles too once he caught onto it, told him otherwise), when it could ruin everything between them. He didn't want to lose his best friend. Not again.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? The last time Peter had kept a secret this big away from Harry, it had almost ended in them severing, in the loss of their friendship, and Peter couldn't handle that. He couldn't lose him, not completely.

So, he had gathered up his courage, as much of it as he could muster being Peter Parker and not Spider-Man, and told himself and his friends that he was gonna do it tonight. He had planned to do it before the party, and then at the party, and then during the dance, and had proceeded to chicken out each and every time. But he knew he had to do it. He had to. And it had to be tonight.

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure." He breathes out, glancing anywhere but at the boy beside him, matching him step for step, inhale and exhale, heart beating at almost the same time, Peter's only slightly quicker in his nerves. "I'm okay, Harry, I promise."

"Okay, if you're sure." Harry shrugs it off, as he always does, something he truly, utterly loves about the boy. He knows when to back down, and trusts that Peter will tell him whatever he needs to know. Its the simple, whole hearted faith in him that makes Peter's heart swell, and his face warm, even in the slight chill of the early summer night. They take a few more steps, their feet crunching in the light frost coating the pavement sidewalks beneath their feet until he speaks up again, his voice light, barely a sigh, almost a whisper, a shy truth. "Today was amazing. I almost don't want it to end."

"Me neither," Peter murmurs honestly, his heart stuttering as he realizes his time for telling the truth is running out. He spots the shadow of a jungle jim in the distance, the shine of the street lights reflecting off of the metal slide, dented and scratched up with use, and stops. "Maybe it doesn’t have to, yet."

Harry stops beside him, basically as soon as he does, so in tune with Peters sudden antics that it happens almost subconsciously, leaning on his right side as his eyebrows furrow. "But we already texted Aunt May, she's probably waiting on you to come home-"

"She can wait, she'll understand." He rushes forward, then, glances quickly both ways before running across the street and towards the playground, hearing Harry bark out a laugh and a "Peter!" before his lighter footsteps trail behind him. Peter just chuckles with a grin, flipping around to stare at his best friend and ignoring the stutter in his heart. "Don't you remember this place? We used to play here all the time!"

"Oh I remember," Harry grins as he catches up to him, "You used to push me off the slide all the time."

Peter scoffs playfully, and shoves him roughly with his shoulder. "Yeah, but only because you would do it first."

"Not true!"

"Absolutely true, and you know it!" He sticks out his tongue just as the reach the swings, the bright red paint of the seats almost a pink now due to sun exposure, and peeling, the metal chains holding them up rusty and old. "And these babies!" He exclaims, practically jumping onto the seat and hearing it creek dangerously under his weight, and holding his breath, releasing it only when the swing holds. "We used to play on these all the time."

"See who could go the highest." Harry agrees, sitting on the one beside him with much more ease and caution than Peter had. "Who could go the furthest when they jumped off." There's a hint of sadness, of melancholy in his voice now that Peter hates, hates so so much that he has to turn and face him, to see what was wrong, to see if he could make it better.

But Harry wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was staring up at the sky, at the galaxies and stars barely noticeable throughout the clouds of smoke and smog of the New York City skies, with a hint of a frown tilting his lips, and the multitude of worlds shimmering in his eyes. He's still beautiful, stunning even with the etch of sorrow and nostalgia on his features, his hair swaying slightly in the faint breeze. "It was so easy, back then." His voice is soft, again, barely audible to normal ears but crystal clear to Peter's inhanced ones. He thinks he would've heard him either way, as all of his focus is now captured, captivated by the boy. "We didn't have a care in the world. No stress of saving New York, no fears of- of dying, no pressures of taking over the Osborn Mantel. Just-" He pauses, taking a shuttering breath. "Just innocence. Naivety. Just... us."

"At least that hasn't changed, hey?" Peter murmurs, trying to lighten the mood, and beams when he hears Harry laugh. A faint chuckle, but its a start either way.

"Yeah, yeah." The light smile fades just as fast as it came, the light twinkle disappearing from his eye. "I hope it never does."

"It won't." Peter states, sitting up abruptly, his heart and mind racing as Harry gaze drops from the sky and looks over to him, swirling with so much pain, grief, loss, fear that it makes Peter ache, and he knows what he has to do, knows what he can do to hopefully wipe all those fears away. He just hopes his friends are right, and that it doesn't make everything so much worse.

The smaller boy leans forward, giving plenty of time for the taller to lean back, or move away, giving him plenty of chance to escape this situation if this isn't what he truly wants. But... Harry stays. He stays put, watching intensely as Peter moves closer and closer, his pupils growing as their shaking breath starts to mix, as their noses brush and eyelashes flutter shut, as their lips gently press together with ease, fitting together perfectly almost like two pieces of the same puzzle, almost as if they were made for each other. And then, he's leaning forward too, grasping at the collar of Peter's blazer and pulling him closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as Peter grabs at his arms and holds him there, hoping, longing to stay here, in this moment for as long as they possibly can, all of the worries for the future and sorrows of the past disappear in the heat and warmth of the now.

But all too soon, Peter's lungs start to ache, so he eases back just as Harry does, still so in sync even at a moment like this, resting their foreheads against one another as they breathe the same air, Peter's eyes fluttering open to see Harry already staring back, the storm grays turning into bright summer skies, so full of light and warmth and excitement, so full of hope that it makes Peter's heart sing and his chest warm, making a wide smile break onto his face. "It won't." Peter reiterates now, bumping his nose with Harry's just to hear him giggle, light and breathy.

"It better not." Harry warns, his nose scrunching playfully, gaze teasing. "You better not be the type to kiss and leave, Parker."

Peter bursts out laughing, leaning back heavily and causing him to swing slightly as Harry follows suit, chuckling beside him. Once settled down a bit, he glances over with a warm, bashful look. "I wouldn't even dream of it. Not for the world." Harry's face flushes at that, and he glances away shyly, a wide smile on his face.

They don't discuss titles, or what they are, really. But they don't have to. Both of them know, now, that no matter what comes their way, no matter what life throws at them, they'll get through it, together. And thats all that matters.

The world falls away...

The world falls away...

And its only us

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 18

AO3 link here

“The party’s downstairs, you know.”

“Well, I’m up here, so—” Tony sips audibly from his champagne glass, spreads his arms wide. “I think the party’s actually up here now.”

He watches as his godfather walks across the gallery toward him. Uncle Steve wears a tux pretty well for an older guy, especially one who’s always preferred the comforts of home to a night out. Probably all those years of being Aunt Peg’s plus one. There’s still something strong about his carriage, a reassuring lack of hesitancy to his step, even though he has quite a few more wrinkles than he did during Tony’s childhood.

Steve stops beside him and looks up at the piece too. “See how the waves look like fingers?” He traces his own through the air to draw attention to them, as if Tony hadn’t noticed their ever-reaching grasp. He takes down the last of the champagne.

“They’re going to bring out the cake soon,” Uncle Steve finally continues when they’ve been standing in silent artistic contemplation for a while. “Your mom is going to notice that you’re gone when you’re not there to sing Happy Birthday to her. Robin might have noticed already.”

“Yeah,” says Tony absently. He almost wants to touch the painted screen in front of them, although even he, who had ducked unconcernedly past the ropes blocking off the stairs to the Met’s upper floors, holds himself firm against giving in to the instinct. His mind finds its way back to itself after a minute and he asks, “How did you know I was here?”

“You didn’t really seem in an Arms and Armor mood earlier.”

Tony’s face twitches as if it can’t decide whether to smile. “You like Robin, don’t you?” he asks instead.

“I always have,” says Steve in that easy, honest way of his. “Everyone’s glad to see her. She managed all of Rose’s questions without running, and I think Layla still wants to adopt her.” He takes in the details of the waves once more before he turns to look precisely at Tony. “But the real question is, do you like Robin? Because if you want to go through with giving her that ring you have in your pocket, you should probably be sure.”

The box, when he automatically pats at his pants, is just where it’s been each time he’s checked it tonight.

“Guess one of the grandkids found you a Super Detective magnifying glass in a cereal box,” he says to cover up the way he’s been caught off guard.

“No,” says Steve. “I know it’s been a few decades, but I once carried around a box just like that, waiting for the right moment.”

“Aunt Peggy says that she was the one who popped the question,” Tony points out.

“Well, there’s a reason we don’t listen to everything she says.” The smile gives just that little extra crinkle to his eyes. “Only most things.”

Tony lets out a little sound that doesn’t quite make it beyond the beginnings of a laugh. “You know that my—” He clears his throat, looks over toward the display without paying attention to it. “My first date with Robin was maybe three weeks after Dad died? We’d known each other a little at school and I’d seen her when I was in Boston a couple months before, so when I heard she was in town, I set it up…And I wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for any of it. I’d just been handed my father’s life’s work, I was trying to make sure Mom was managing, everything was starting with Jarvis. I was sure it was going to be a disaster. But that night at dinner, I had fun. She was fun. We could just talk - about her latest coding project or the Three Laws of Robotics, whatever.”

“And has it stopped being fun?” Steve’s head is tilted just a little, casual, patient, as if he already knows what Tony is going to say. Tony swallows and says it anyway.

“I don’t know if it ever really got past fun.” He thinks of the two of them yesterday evening. Robin had been fizzy after the train trip down from Boston, the way she always was. She’s the only person Tony knows over the age of five who regards trains as anything more exciting than a convenient way to get from here to there. They’d gone to a little burger place they liked (made the world’s most perfect steak fries and served them up in overflowing baskets), got into another good-natured debate over the implications of human cloning, stopped by to see if his mother needed any more help before the party, and went back to his place. It had been fun. It had been a good time.

“She’s sharp as hell, and that punk rock thing definitely does it for me." He risks a glance over, waiting for his godfather to clear his throat awkwardly the way he does when Tony brings up anything sex adjacent, but Uncle Steve is still watching him with that quiet, patient look. Tony finds that as he continues, he cannot look back. "Things are great when she’s here. But I don't think she knows what it would be like to be a Stark all the time, what it would be like to be married to someone who’s a part of that. Would she change for it? Would I like her the way I do if she did?” Tony wants to put his hands in his pockets despite the box taking up real estate in there, but he is still holding the champagne flute and the darkened gallery is not exactly bustling with passing waiters balancing conveniently extended trays.

“People change all the time,” Steve points out, and instead of a rising fury at the triteness of the statement, the calm around the man, Tony finds his tension beginning to unravel in response. There’s something soothing about the lack of surprise, a peaceful cushioning inside of him. It’s as if they are discussing theory, like they are back on the floor of his childhood bedroom, Steve sitting through another of Tony’s exhaustive explanations of his latest Rube Goldberg machine.

In that sort of space, even though his voice creaks as he speaks, he says, “I don’t know if I’d want her to change for me. But I don't think I'd change for her either."

“Then why are you trying to propose?”

"Gotta try to find your person, you know?" He runs a finger around the edge of his glass, looks back over. "Dad always said he regretted not finding Mom sooner. I'm trying my best here. "

"But if he had met her sooner," Steve reminds him, "I don't know that he would have been the right person for her." He shifts, and Tony remembers that however straight-postured the man stands, he's also a million years old and been on his feet all night. He's about to suggest that they go take a seat, but Steve pins him with a stare. "I've been luckier in this area than I can believe, luckier than you can understand, but I'll tell you that I knew when I had found my person. And all of these doubts you have, Tony, it sounds as if you haven't yet."

In some ways it is a relief to hear it outside of the suppressed corner of his own mind, to have the words brought into the open air with no condemnation in the tone. In others, it is as if Steve has swung the door wide and invited in all of Tony’s fears.

He can’t speak for a minute. When he does, his words are slow.

"I have this memory," he says. "I must have been really young - I don't even know if it's actually real or something my brain just pieced together. You'd brought the whole gang up to the Maine place for Christmas - no idea why, we could have all been snowed in and died - but that's where we were. And then Dad and Aunt Peggy got called somewhere and disappeared for a few days, made it back just in time for Christmas Day. I was under the kitchen table and you were cooking when they got back, and she came in to say hi to you. She just—She gave you a kiss and you whispered something to her, and she touched your cheek. Didn't really do anything, just put a hand there and looked at you. And you know, I was probably too young to know anything, but I knew that you loved each other."

Steve is quiet. "It was real. You remembered it right," he says finally, a little huskiness to his words, as if this decades-old memory is still entirely fresh for him

"No way you could have been like that in the beginning," Tony says, abrupt bravado covering the vulnerability. "I've heard all those old war stories. But you had something and you grew into it together. So why can't I—Why can’t we try to grow together like that?"

"You can, Tony.” Steve turns to him fully, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You can. But you have to want it.” In the dim light of the spot aimed at the artwork in front of them, he can read his godfather’s eyes: not solemnity or reproach, but hope for him, whatever he chooses.

He clears his throat, clears it again. “Might be that I want to want it more than I actually do.”

He thinks of Ana calling Jarvis pet names, fluttering her lashes at him as they passed in the hallway so that he stuttered and blushed. He thinks of his parents coming home from some event or another, his father’s suit coat around his mother’s shoulders. He thinks of the people who have been raised beside him as family: the Barnes’s, a carefully expanding unit, the Carters with their spouses and children and deeply committed friends.

He thinks of Aunt Peggy’s hand on Steve’s cheek all those years ago.

“Someday,” he says, a promise in a way he doesn’t entirely understand. “Someday I’ll really want it.”

“You will,” Steve says back with such certainty that Tony lets out a breath. “But for now, we should go back downstairs. We’ve been gone for a while.”

Tony waits until Steve turns, then follows him toward the doorway. “Aunt Peg will have definitely noticed we disappeared by now.”

“Who do you think told me that I should come look for you?” Uncle Steve smiles over his shoulder, hands in his pockets.

“Only right most of the time, huh?”

“Don’t tell her.”

And Tony smiles too, and shakes his head, and walks down to stand with his family and eat cake.

More chapters here

[mind-writing0]

Chapter 30

Virgil, surprising himself and the Selected around him, couldn't contain his excitement. It was both negative and positive. On one hand, he didn't want to see his mother, and he had no idea how she would behave in the palace. On the other, he couldn't wait to see Valerie again.

Him, Lance, Patton, Logan, and Bill all stood at the front door, waiting for their families. It was the day before the Halloween Ball would take place, so everyone still had time to get ready.

The big oak doors were opening, and the first person to peak their head in was a young woman that looked like Lance's girl twin.

"Veronica!" Lance greeted, breaking rank to run over and hug her, which she returned with a laugh.

"I hate to say it, but I've missed you, Lance." Veronica replied.

Virgil smiled at their reunion, turning back to the door. The next people to enter looked like Lance's parents, followed by many of his siblings. Then, judging by the blonde wavy hair, it was either Bill or Patton's parents that came next. Then Logan's. Finally, a familiar fair face peeked in, littered with freckles and black curls that rolled off her shoulders.

"Virgil!" She squealed at the sight of him, running into his arms. Virgil laughed and hugged back, ruffling her hair. It was obvious she was trying to dress up for the palace, as she'd taken one of Virgil's nice dress shirts he'd worn for concerts and combined it with a modest skirt. After being around the exquisite styles of the palace for so long, he almost had a headache from looking at her outfit. It would be fun to dress her up for the Ball, if that was how it would work.

"I missed you!" Virgil said, "What have you—" he faltered, his smile turning to a frown. "Where's mom?"

Valerie frowned as well, glancing at the door. "She's coming, just give her a minute. She drank a bit on the way."

Virgil rolled his eyes as his mother stumbled through the door, patting her big stomach. He wouldn't look her in the eyes. "Excuse me," he whispered to a nearby guard, "can you please escort my mother to the room she'll be staying in?" The guard nodded in understanding, and Virgil turned back to Valerie with a smile.

"So, what do you wanna do?" He asked, and Valerie looked deep in thought for a moment.

"Can we eat some pastries? Please, Virgil." Valerie clung to her brother's arm, giggling as he tried and failed to lift her up.

"I mean..." Virgil replied, "it's tea time, so we could, but we also should get ready for the Ball tomorrow, right, Val?"

Valerie lit up with excitement at the mention of the party, "Yes! Can I wear a pretty dress? And have my makeup done? And get cool streaks in my hair like you?"

"Yeah, sure, if they'll let you. I don't know if there's any on-call hair people, but I can ask my friend—I mean, maid, Katie." Virgil said, and with a wave to Lance, who barely noticed while he chatted with his parents, he went up to his room.

On the way there, Valerie seemed entranced by every aspect of the palace. She looked as though she wanted to sink into a painting or the plush red carpeting. Dan stood guard by Virgil's door, and Valerie could recognize him even underneath his hat.

"Hi, Dan! I didn't know you'd be posted here. That's so cool, right?" Valerie greeted cheerfully, and for a moment Virgil felt a pang of fear, like he did back home whenever his secret boyfriend was mentioned.

Dan, despite hearing the news earlier, seemed surprised to see her. "Yes, it is." He glanced at Virgil with what looked like a smirk, then back at Valerie. "It's nice to see you, Valerie."

Valerie nodded dismissively and shoved the door open, curiosity shadowing her nerves. Virgil's maids were in there, designing the last of Virgil's music note tux. The maids had their own room to work, but after Allura had shyly mentioned how cold it was, Virgil had them all work here.

"Hi!" Katie greeted Virgil's little sister, "are you Valerie? Wow, you look a lot like Virgil."

"Yep!" Valerie replied, then she looked startled for a moment. "I mean, yes, ma'am." She stayed quiet for a moment, watching the maids work, then burst out: "Can I have a pretty dress?"

Allura giggled, "Of course! We have some designs downstairs for what was going to be the female Selected. If you'd like, we can take you there, and you can pick out something to be fitted."

"That'd be cool! But doesn't it need to be a costume, or just Halloween-y colors?" Valerie asked, walking over to Virgil's nightstand. She got dangerously close to his old penny jar, then passed it to touch Roman's now dying red rose. Virgil briefly wondered if he'd get another rose from Roman. Then he wondered if he'd get one more penny for singing for Dan. Dan, as a guard, was a Two. He now had enough money to pay more than a penny, though the gesture wouldn't be the same.

"Any—anything you wanna do is fine," Virgil replied, "I'm sure there's a mix of both."

"Okay," Valerie said cheerfully, turning back to the maids. "I'm ready to see them now, if you want. What do you wanna do, Virgil?"

"Oh!" Virgil remembered, looking towards his maids as well. "Can one of you help me redo my streaks?" He ran a hand through his hair. "If you guys can do hair, I mean."

"Um..." Katie looked up from the suit, "I could probably do it. There's things downstairs I could use, and maybe we could use that room you got your starting makeover in? I'm sure a lot of people want to get hair done there."

"Sounds great," Virgil said, "I'll be there, and Vally, pick out your dress and meet us there, okay?"

"Okay!" Valerie ran out, Allura and Romelle surprised in light of the fact she didn't know her way around the palace. They followed after her quickly, Katie soon behind them in search of hair supplies.

Virgil laughed quietly at their actions. There weren't many people Virgil held close in his life, but his sister and maids were some of the most important to him. He headed down to the room where the makeovers were the first day to see that some of the stylists were back. Pidge would probably want to back out now, but Virgil still wanted her to do it. Most of the stations were occupied, but Virgil found a space next to Lance, who was talking to one of his sisters as she got a haircut.

Katie came back a few minutes later, arms full of bottles and brushes. She looked a little alarmed when she noticed all the stylists, but Virgil reassured her he wanted her to stay. Virgil and Lance chatted a bit while Pidge did his hair. He closed his eyes for a minute while she worked, just thinking. About Dan and Roman; their eyes, their smiles, how they would look at the Ball tomorrow. If he'd been asked two months ago about his feelings of any royal affairs, he would have walked the other way. Now it all seemed different, in a new light since he'd really seen who Roman was. Virgil could fit his old and new life like puzzle pieces, now that they were finally shaping up to fit.

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[writerjodie]

Renegades: The Secret

Assassin’s Creed: Renegades - The Secret (Chapter Six)

-

Glittering and shimmering with the endless spotlights and chandeliers, the hotel the Assassins arrive at is stupidly grand and fancy - well, Lisa hardy expected anything less, is was built with Templar money after all.

Throwing a quiet thanks to the driver, Alexios slips out the car, extending an arm to help Lisa out after him. No sooner as they vacate it, their car shoots off, immediately replaced by whichever Templar next to arrive.

“Good Evening, Deimos,” the doorman greets, the tiny bronze cross on his lapel marking out his allegiance, “And who is your lovely lady companion?”

The question comes out friendly enough, but both Assassins know enough to be sure of the meanings behind it; she is an intruder.

“This is my girlfriend, tonight we call her Agrona,” Alexios explains without pause, his arm coming to red around her waist.

Raising his brows, the doorman pushes open the door for them.

“You big shots and your nicknames, eh...have fun,” he laughs, already turning to the next guests.

Freezing at those words, Alexios quickly smooths his features out and drifts into the hotel lobby, where other Templars linger - all in various states of sobriety. Not spotting any of his associates, Alexios shuffles them towards the gold painted reception room, where a vast buffet spread awaits them all.

Mouth watering at the delicious foods, Lisa struggles to control the grumbling of her stomach as she grabs a plate, piling it high with Greek delicacies. She barely notices the absence of Alexios - who has finally found his friends - until she hears a voice from behind her.

“Ah, a fellow fan of Moussaka,” the speaker calls out, gesturing to Lisa’s plate of the dish.

Nodding dumbly, Lisa struggles to swallow the mouthful she’s been chewing when she sees the face of her speaker. God damn her it's the American Grandmaster, Haytham Kenway - the very man she failed to kill not a month ago.

“I’ve never seen you at these meetings before, so I’d garner that you’re new here,” Haytham continues to talk, grabbing himself a plate of the delicious aubergine and lamb, “Allow me the privilege of knowing your name, I’m Haytham,”

“It’s nice to meet you Haytham,” Lisa gets out, finally swallowing her mouthful, “Tonight, I am Agrona,”

At the name, Haytham pauses, beckoning her to follow as he moves away from the table.

“Agrona, that’s a Greek name if I ever heard one, but going off your accent alone - you’re clearly a Brit,” he muses, “Tell me, what’s another Brit doing here, in Athens?”

Retaining her calm smile, Lisa internally panics - he’s suspicious, damn him he’s suspicious.

“You got me there, Haytham,” she laughs, hoping this act will get him off her back, “Agrona is not my true name, but my boyfriend Deimos insisted on giving me that name tonight, said it part of the fun,”

“Ah, Deimos! I have not spoken with him properly for some time, do tell him I would like a chat before the night is up,” Haytham doffs his cap at her, as he scoots off to greet some other Templar, leaving Lisa to frown at her Moussaka. So, Alexios has been speaking to Haytham for ‘some time’, has he? Hmm, what was that lie he spun her; he’s only spying?

A loose sigh escapes her as she winds her way through the crowds, back to where Alexios chats with some other guests. Patiently, she waits until they finish chatting to speak, shovelling forkfuls of food in her mouth as she waits.

“Master Kenway said he’d like to speak with you,” she mutters once his companions have drifted off.

Taking the plate from her hands and slamming it on the table beside them, Alexios blinks at her.

“He spoke to you?” he snaps, ushering her out of the grand, golden room and into the dusky gardens, “What else did he say?”

At her escorts reaction, Lisa’s eyes narrow, and she takes a step closer to him, disregarding of his fin tux.

“You nearly shat yourself when I mentioned Haytham,” she hissed, “You’re not spying here, are you? You’re in with them, aren’t you? You’re a fucking Templar too,”

With a final glance around the garden, checking for any onlookers, Alexios grips Lisa shoulders and shoves her against the stone wall.

“You- you don’t get to make accusations like that” he snarls, elbows pinning her against the callous wall.

Save for those two, the lantern lit garden is utterly still and silent, its endless flowers and olive trees covering the sea of stars high above.

“No denial then...you told me no secrets, and once again you’ve lied to me, to the Brotherhood,” she grips at his arms, nails digging into his skin through the sleeves of his blazer.

“Be quiet,” he intoned, “I abandoned them and their way of thinking long ago - I work for the Templars now,”

Hissing beneath her breath, Lisa struggles to break free from his imprisonment, only to be further wedges as he uses his leg to pin her in place.

“Traitor,” she mutters, drawing blood with her nails.

“Listen, sweetheart,” harsh, cold fingers grip her chin, forcing her to look at his him, “I know a lot about you, and about those you love - or loved - and I can tell you now that the Assassins have been lying to you,”

Backlit by the burning glow of the lanterns, Alexios’ eyes turn molten as they trail down her chest, to where the Yggdrasil pendant rests. His fingers follow the same path as his eyes, sending shivers of goosebumps rippling over her skin at the lightness of his touch.

“What?” she hums, forgetting her anger at him for a second, “What? No, no, you don’t get to blatantly lie to me any more!”

Finally, she breaks free from his grip, and storms away from him, back to the door of the hotel. She is met there by a stoic Haytham, who looks as if he’s been there a while.

“You think I lie? Fine, ring Achilles now and ask him where Shay Cormac is,” Alexios yells after her, trapping her between him and Haytham.

Eyes looking anywhere but the two men, Lisa stiffens at the mention of his name.

“Shay Cormac is dead, he died on his last mission for the Assassins, he died before I could say goodbye,” she whispers, voice cracking at her own words.

“When was his funeral? Where was his body?” Alexios continues, his voice harsh and loud, “And where did your lovely necklace go after he ‘died’?”

The pewter pendant burns against her skin, feeling heavier than the entire world. Vision blurred with tears, Lisa pushes past Haytham, pushes past other Templars until she reaches the doorman.

Wordlessly, he buzzes for her car to pick her up - which it does in record time.

Far too soon for her liking, Lisa is back on the deck of the Adrestia, her face splotchy with tears, which the dusk breeze blows away with cool fingers. Looking out across the still waters, she frowns at the reflection of the stars when her fingers betray her once more, and her phone works its way into her hands.

Without thinking, she flicks on the screen, coming to a stop when she reaches the contacts page. It’ll be early afternoon for the Assassins in New York, quiet hours.

Her finger stabs the call button before cowardice can stop her. She presses it to her ear, involuntarily shivers as she hears the click of her call being answered.

“I need to speak to Achilles, now,” Lisa orders, before the person on the other end can speak.

“Lisa,” the unimpressed voice of Hope Jensen comes over the line, “You know this line is for emergencies only? A chat with Achilles is hardly-”

“I said NOW,” she shrieks, earning a few odd looks from passers-by.

Judging by the silence on the phone, Hope has listened for once.

“Lisa? It’s late in Athens, what are you calling this old man for?” the voice of Achilles comes next.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lisa readies herself to speak. It’s now or never.

“Where is Shay Cormac?” she finally asks, tears threatening to spill again, “And before you tell me he’s dead...I know he isn’t,”

A little, white lie - but if it gets her the information she needs…

“Oh,” comes the reply, “How did you-”

“That doesn’t matter, just tell me where he is,”

Silence.

“I can’t. I don’t know. He ripped his locator out long ago,” Achiles sighs, relenting to Lisa’s harsh tone, “But it would be wise of you to avoid looking for him, Lisa, he betrayed us for the Templars - he is the enemy now. You’d do well to forget-”

Lisa doesn’t bother listening to the rest of his words. She hangs up the call with a stab to the screen, and drops her phone into the sea without a second’s thought. That’s enough of that.

Silently, she slips into her cabin, shedding her jumpsuit in a matter of seconds. The makeup is wiped off, and her hair is swept into a more utilitarian ponytail. With a face like stone, she pulls on her leggins and a top, covering it with her new hoodies.

She nearly storms out straight after tugging her boots on, but she rushes back in time to remember her twin hidden blades. The first one goes on her arm, but she waits to put her second one on.

Flicking the blade out, she positions it on her other arm, right where the scar of her locator chin is. Just a quick stab in, then flick it out. Oh, this is going to be painful.

Biting back a scream, Lisa stabs her arm, twisting her blade to flick out the locator chip - as planned. The chip is deeper than expected, but still easy-ish to get out. A quick stop in the first aid bay has the hole cleaned out and dressed, before her other bracer and blade go over the top of it.

The Assassins can no longer track her, nor can they contact her. She is free to roam as she pleases, and the first place she heads to - by memory of the car trip - is to the hotel, where the droves of Templars await.

Luckily for her, Alexios and Haytham are still in the garden when she arrived, dropping in from above on silent feet.

“You’re back,” Alexios mutters, unsurprised.

“I am, and I want you to take me to Shay Cormac,” she asks, keeping to the shadows with her hood up.

Silently, Haytham rises to his feet.

“Okay,” Haytham agrees, ignoring the protests of Alexios, “But first you must do some things for me, for Deimos here,”

Hm, in doing so, Lisa will betray her order and all she has worked for. But perhaps...she knows there are good techies in the Brotherhood, no doubt they can set up a good comms system for her.

Yes, she will do what Alexios should’ve done. She will be the inside man for the Assassins, she will spy on the Templars and get to the bottom of Shay Cormac betraying the,.

“Whatever you want, consider it done,” she purrs.

Oh, this is all too easy.

[lillaxtrigger]

Young hope: Chapter 15

The clear night sky befalls upon a brightly lit manor. Its shine reflecting off the dozens of vehicles littered about its massive circular driveway. One more car joins their ranks, its simplistic design contrasting between the two luxurious automobiles it parks between. Out from its steel shell arose the blue boy and his family, dressed to partake in the Gala. “Wow. It’s so gorgeous. You really got lucky, Tore. Scoring the daughter of an eccentric trillionaire?” the mother compliments. “Eh, seems like kind of a bitch to me. Honestly think you could do better.” Mally remarks. “By the way, how did you and that Renee girl meet in the first place?”. Both ladies turn to Tore, the blue boy busy adjusting his tuxedo collar to keep from choking him. “Ah...Ya...Ya know…At-At...At school.” he boy tries to feign while loosening his collar. “Getting enough oxygen there?” Mally worries. “Yeah...Nnn, Fine…”. He finally adjusts his collar to a more comfortable hold, wondering to himself; “Why did Cayenne makes this thing so tight?’.

“Tore, come in. Have you arrived at the manor yet?” Kingsley’s voice rings through a hidden earpiece. Pressing down upon the communicator, he responds with: “Yep. Right when the fires are hot, too.”. “Okay, now when you get in. You know what to do, right?”. “Pfft, course. I do the thing with the- the other thing, then I...I walk around for a bit. Hoard the food. Dumm… Sneak out through the back and fly in the night sky like a sharply dressed glowing bandit.”. “You forgot it, didn’t you?” Cayenne guesses through the earpiece.”. “Nooo...That-that is it, right?”. “Not even close, you dumbass.” “Alright, listen. I’ll go through it, one more time. But you gotta do your best to remember while you’re inside.” Kingsley offers. “Gotcha.”

“Uh, Tore?” he hears his sister wonder. Ahead, he finds her and their mom gazing awkwardly towards the boy. “Who are you talk to?” “Oh, um, uh. J-just practicing my lines when I run into Renee’s dad. Gotta keep up good impression, he he...” Both ladies shrug the answer off and start to head inside. Tore letting out a relieved sigh as he follows close.

Not to long ago, the same blue boy stood in front of a mirror, being fitted for his snazzy navy blue tux. Cayenne adjusts parts of his suit so that it may properly fit, Tore complaining: “Agh. The sleeves are too stiff, the collar is so itchy, the waist is chaffing me… This whole monkey suit is unbearable! How do people stomach wearing these things!?” “Just suck it up, ya damn baby.” Cayenne retort. His discomfort causes him to glace towards Kingsley and ask: “Why do I have go to this dumb ball again, ya know aside from me...Nn, screwing up and stuff?” “Because, I have reasons to suspect that Renee might be going through some… Umm, parental problems, lets call them. And need you to be our eyes on the inside to catch the act.” “Okay, but why at this Gala thing?” “See, Rich parents are always super strict when it comes to their kids during big events like this. Heck, when I was young, my mom wouldn’t let me out of the bathroom until every detail was perfect. Every. Detail. One of Renee’s parents may snap at her in private and need you to catch whoever it is in the act.” “Rrr, but I don’t wanna go to some fancy mansion party. They’re not the fun kinda parties with the overly frosted cookie cakes with demeaning swear words and clearly drunken clowns juggling sticks of lit dynamite.” “What...kind of party are you suggesting?” “My 12th birthday. Now that was a blast.” “Well, maybe you should think of that next time you decide to crash into someones personal life.” Cayenne suggest. “But didn’t you try and do the same thi-” Before he could finish, Cayenne tightens Tore’s bow tie, choking the boy.

After loosening his collar, he than wonders aloud to Kingsley. “I don’t get it. If you think something bad’s happening to her. Why not just pull her out, asap?” “I’d love to, but you might’ve figured out by now that the Buxaplenty’s are a very rich family. They can by off lawyers and judges to free them from most kind of scrutiny, which is why we need to catch them on video. Because if there’s one thing they can’t buy off, its hard evidence. The boy genius then pulls out a floral pin, telling his agent: “This pin will give us video feed of the inside. Once we record it, we can work on getting Renee out of there. This situation will require you to have the upmost diligence if we wanna pull this off. Got it?”. “Diligence?...Diligence…That some kind of pickle?”. Frustrated, Kingsley lets out a sigh, deciding instead to rephrase with: “Just- just sneak around and try not to get caught.”. “Wait a minute...You mean like a secret agent?” Tore gleefully questions. Tore than revels in the prospect of being an undercover agent. Sneaking around facilities, gathering intel, ton and tons of nifty gadgets, famous tropes reminiscent of the spy film genre. An enriching fantasy that rapidly excites the blue boy, making him loudly giddy with uncontrollable enthusiasm. “Well, more of a mundane spy than and agent really, but-” Kingsley tries to deflate, but the blue boy was already far too thrilled as he readies to scream out. “I’m gonna be like James Bond!”. He flies out from the changing room in an eager rush, the sound of his cheering echoing in the proceeding halls. “We are so fucked.” Cayenne remarks. “I’m...Well...he might...Pull a surprise out of his pocket, um...who knows?”. He than finds the girl gazing at him with an unconvinced glare, making Kingsley giving out a nervous laugh before glaring back towards the corridor.

Entering the estate, the family is taken aback by the luxurious décor strewn about the entry hall. The golden chandler that suspends atop the ceiling, its own lights sparkling off its polished finish. The velvet red carpeting laid about the polished marble floor beneath their feet. The fancy platters sporting various miniature hors d’oeuvres ready to be consumed. The large hand painted murals that depicted their aristocratic hosts hung about the walls. All of it giving a such a sense of authentic elegance amongst the countless guests within. “Whoa…talk about pulling all the stops.” Mally comments right after blowing out an impressed whistle. The mother glances over towards the left staircase, noticing a middle aged woman beside the railing and exclaiming with a gasp: “Is that roller blading stunt girl Molly wheelz?”. Mally looks towards the opposite end of the hall, spotting a red headed lady, gushing: “Oh my god! It’s the skating champ, Red thunder!”. Both ladies waltz towards their respective ideals, leaving their blue boy to his own devices.

With a thickly posh english accent, Tore relays to his comrades: “This is agent bluebird reporting. I have successfully infiltrated the facility and ready to proceed with gathering intelligence. Do you copy, orange dingaling?”. “You don’t have use an accent, ya know? You’re not exactly undercover. Also, orange dingaling?” As he hears Cayenne mocking laughter in the background of the feed, he turns is attention over towards the platter table. “Just...walk around and see if you can tail either of Renee’s parents.” Kingsley commands. “Affirmative, proceeding to begin mission.”

The guests pluck from the gallery of hor d’oeuvres as they pass through. Tore lifts his head from under the table, gazing into the delicious array of savory snacks. He picks one from the delicate silver platter in the middle of the table, licking the tiny entree and coming to the obvious conclusion: “Detecting no signs of poison.”. With that theory confirmed, the blue boy proceeds to grasp the entire tray and loudly scarf down the rest of the hor d’oeuvres down his gullet. After swallowing the array of bite sizes snacks, he lowers the silver platter, exhaling a hearty sigh. He then notices some of the surrounding guests staring at him astonished and some with outright disturbed gazes painted across their faces. With a nervously guilty giggle, he lowers himself back under the table. Looking out from under the cloth covered table, he blots away when nobody is looking.

In his escape, he reflects to himself with the inner thoughts of: “That was kinda close. Probably best if I keep a low profile. Don’t wanna blow this whole thing by running into someone important.” As if the whims of fate read his mind like a best selling novel, Tore runs into a wayward blonde dressed in sea foam green. Shaking the crash off, he finds his faux mistress sat upon the velvet carpeting. “Oh man, so sorry!” he apologizes. Rising from the floor, he helps Renee up, asking the daughter of the host: “You okay?”. “Yeah. I’m- I’m fine. How are you enjoying the gala?”. “Oh um. It’s uh...It’s nice. Really fancy, very shiny. Mostly um...nnnnice... Oh who am I kidding. I’ve been here less then 10 minutes and I’m already bored out of my skull.” “Ugh. Tell me about it. Every year, my dad throws one of these stupidly massive balls in hopes of gathering more investors for the family. To be honest, I’d rather stay in bed and snuggle up with a good book.” “I hear ya. I’d rather go fly out and train somewhere than stand around these snooty stiff. Like that guy over there.”. Looking to where the blue boy was pointing towards, Renee’s fixates her gaze upon an elderly gentleman engaging in conversation with a fellow aristocrat. “Just look at him. Stuffy, looks full of himself, and probably paid to have the definition of fun surgically removed from his crusty ass brains. He’s- He’s like- He’s like “Excuse me fine gentleman, would any of you like to consult about the how many golden statues I possess to compensate for the fact that I have lost control of my bladder.” Tore jests with in mocking elderly tone. Some of the guests could hear the couple quietly giggling to themselves. The boy then spots another aristocrats in his sight, pointing over and telling Renee to: “Oh oh, over there! Look!”. Glancing in said direction, she spots a rather stuffy looking couple. “Bet you can’t do it.” “No. No. I-I shouldn’t.” “Come on. You know you wanna.” “Hmm...Oh I know. “I say honey. There is a rather awful smell coming from you’re twisted beard. By any chance have you been using gorilla snot as a hair gel?” “Why yes I have dear. And I dare say, you look rather horrid in your obviously fake eyelashes.” There giggling begins to grow louder, them trying their best not to burst out in laughter. Renee spots another potential vctim of their mockery and points over, asking: “Oh god. Look over there.”. She has her faux boyfriend look towards a rather overweight individual, his suit obviously to small to fit with the buttons struggling to keep it together. “Ooh ho ho wow. Okay, I got a good one. Listen to this.” Clearing his throat, the boy then lets out high pitched mocking tone: “Even everyone. Don’t mind me. I’m just trying to keep my buttons from flying off past Jupiter.” Both of them could barely contain their glee, threatening to burst out in laughing fits. The fat bloke who they mocked captures their attention, saying in the exact tone Tore had given him: “Well, I never. My tone is never that high and my suit is rather durable, thank you.” As the overweight bastard takes his leaves, Tore and Renee stare into one another before they could contain their laughter no more. The guest around them take note of the couples laughter, looking rather embarrassed just being near them. Their chortling dying down, Renee lets out a sigh, desiring: “Yeah...Honestly I just want this night to be over.” “Me too. But, luckily I got something to keep me from blasting through the roof, screaming bloody murder.” “What is it?”. “Ya see, there’s this plan that-” “Don’t tell her the plan, you dumbass!” Cayenne screams through the earpiece. “Ow! Why?” “Tore. We still don’t know what’s exactly up with Renee and her parents. And if you tell her, she might be unwillingly coaxed into spilling the beans.” Kingsley finishes in a much calmer tone. The boy complies, but not without a hint of reluctance. “Mm...Okay.”. “Who are you talking to?” he hears Renee question. Looking back, he finds the blonde staring at him with a worried gaze. “Uhh...”. Gotta think of an excuse fast. “My...My hand.”. Perfect. “You’re hand?”. “Yes. It has a lot to say. Do you want to hear?” he offers, presenting his palm. “Uh...No thanks.”

An uncomfortable pause passes between the two, both internally pleading for anything to break it. Come on, something happening already, please! A thought that loom in the blue boys head as he works up a nervous sweat “Hello children.” he hears a feminine voice greet. Oh thank god. Looking aside, they witness a well dressed blonde woman approach. Renee’s mom? “How are you two enjoy the gala?”. “Uh...It’s great.” the blue boy mentions. “Yeah, parties great mom.” Renee respond. “Great, glad to see you kids having a fun time. But, you two should probably behave yourselves. Everyone is watching you two.”. The daughter quickly withdraws her joyful demeanor, complying with: “O-Oh. Right...”. “I’d like you to come with me dear. There are some people I’d like to introduce you to.”. “Of course.”. Before walking off with her mother, she turns towards her faux boyfriend, ending with: “See you later.” Seeing the happiness quickly drain from Renee leads Tore to think: “Hmm...That was odd. Did Kingsley say which parent was causing her trouble? ...Meh, I’ll just spy on her and see what happens.”.

Watching as the blue boys exploits play out, Kingsley and Cayenne eye the monitor showing the feed within his lab. “So, which one do you think it might be?” she asks him. “Pardon?” “The abusive piece of shit. Which one is it?” “Oh, uh...To be honest, I’m not really certain. For all we know, it could be the both of them. We’re basically going in blind as bats.” “Oh...Five bucks says its the dad.” Another moment of awkward pause passes, thankfully not as painfully long as Cayenne swiftly adds the follow up question: “By the way. How’d you manage to convince your folks to let you do all this?”. “I...I fed them the excuse that I needed to work on a school project and needed peace and quiet to focus.” Cayenne keeps a chuckle from escaping her lungs and questions: “You...feeding them a lie? Yeah, right. Doubt you of all people can lie. Come on, what did you actually do?” Kingsley fails to give her a response, only continuing to stare into the video feed with a worried glare. “Oh shit. You’re actually serious, aren’t you?”. Letting out a weary sigh, he answers: “Cayenne, it hurts that I have to lie to them just to pull all this off. I’m...scared, that this whole family grudge thing would make them force me to never speak to her again. And I can’t risk that. Especially now when Renee might be in danger.”. “Damn...You must really like her, don’t you?”. “To be honest, I’m praying that this whole parental...abuse thing to just be my own delusional paranoia. For one of the few times in my life. I’m hoping that I’m wrong.”

Atop the manor staircase, Tore slid across the 2nd floor balcony overhanging the hall like a crawling worm. He inches towards the railing and looks through the bars, scanning across the 1st floor among the countless guests. The boy spots his fake girlfriend alongside her mother, relaying with a couple of aristocratic gentleman. “They probably wouldn’t do it out the open. Could cause a scene. What to do?” he wonders aloud. Behind him, some of the passing guest could help not but stare at Tore, wondering why the boy was laying upon the velvet carpeting upon his stomach. “Might be best to tail them and wait for when they’re alone to catch em in the act. Yeah, that sounds like the perfect plan.”. Spotting both ladies walking off, he bounces up from the carpet and declares. “Uh oh, looks like they’re on the move. Better get going myself.”. The blue boy then vaults over the golden railing and drops down to the second floor. He spooks some of the guests upon landing on the marble surface, but ignores their shock and continues on with his noble efforts to stalk the hosts daughter.

Tailing the mother daughter duo through the home, he hides behind behind various furniture as they walk through the abode. He literally jumps behind one of the chairs to take cover, alluding at the very least Renee’s and her moms gaze. Seems like they didn’t notice him.

The boy then dives down under another table, looking under the cloth to find the pair still unaware of his near presence. So far so good. Ready to move, he hits his head on the table in his haste, rubbing his top whilst trying not to audibly scream. Tore than crawls out from under the table and dashes away towards his pursuit.

From behind something, Tore eyes his targets as they walk away. Looks like they haven’t noticed him just yet. This spy stuff is pretty easy, actually. Thought it might be more exciting than this. Just then, he feels the thing he was hiding behind begin to move, finding that it was in fact a bulky looking individual, who turned towards the boy with an upset looks. Tore nervously laughs as he backs away from the gentleman. Looking around, he can’t spot Renee our her mom anywhere in site. Shit. Did he lose them?

He hastily pushes himself through the crowd to try and catch up to the Renee and her mom, but fails to find either. Where did they go? Can’t really fly. That would throw stealth out the window entirely. Perhaps he needed another moment atop the stairs to find where they were departing towards. But before he can consider going back up, he spots Renee’s mother amongst the crowd, however with Renee herself nowhere near. Figuring that he might have lost his false beloved, he might as well tail her mom to see if he can pick up any context clues or for the chance she might meet up with her daughter once more. Who knows, really.

Pursuing the mother, he finds her walking beside a group of an aristocratic guests, chatting to one another about um… I don’t know. Something boring or money, stuff like that, who cares. All that matters now is tailing the misses without getting caught.

Going up a set of stairs, the group doesn’t spot their spy, hanging from the side of the case by one of the steps. As they pass through, he can’t help but hear in their conversation, which of course to him goes in one ear and out the other. Ugh, these people are so boring. Why can’t any of these guy talk about something fun for once? Like cartoons, ice creams, video games, an exploding clown, or the hordes of hell on mars, something dammit! Stop being a bunch of boring douche bags! Thoughts that cloud his mind as he’s forced to listen, failing to catch one of them unwittingly stamping on his fingers. He covers his mouth with his hand, to keep his screams of pain from escaping. Soon, he plummet down and hits the ground with a loud thud, catching the groups attention. They look down to what might have made such a crash, only to find nothing of the sorts. Shrugging off the thud, they continue up. Tore hiding behind the descending hall, rubbing his stamped on fingers.

Passing by a decorative cabinet full of priceless glass figures of marine life, they fail to notice the blue boy eyeing them from the atop the cabinet. Getting down from the cabinet, he is about to head out, when something within the cabinet catches his attention. It was tiny glass dolphin figurine irradiating rainbow colors. Oh my god, its so cute. No! Now is not the time to be admiring marine shaped crafts of glass workmanship! There’s a mission to be had. Breaking his gaze away from the crystal mammal, he continues to his goal of pursue the Buxaplenty wife.

Catching up, he finds the group of snobs to have seemingly broken off from the misses, Renee’s mother absent from their group. He looks about to in an effort to try and find her once more. Thankfully, he manages to spot her nearby. It looks like she’s talking to somebody. Please let it not be anymore stiff. Approaching from behind the corridor, he can hear the mother in the middle of a conversation with one of her guests. “Oh its no problem really. I’m happy you got to meet one of your idles.”. “It was really fun to get to know her. I’ve been a fan of hers since I was a kid.” the other guest mentions. He swears the person she’s talking with sounds incredibly familiar. Peeking out, he finds that Renee’s mom is in fact talking to his own. “Really, we invite tons of stars here every year. If our kids are still dating by around next year, we can arrange for some others you want.” “Just like that? You guys must live like kings. And you have such a charming daughter to boot.” “Oh yes. We’re quite proud of our little Renee. She’s been keep up with her grades constantly since we transferred her to public school to keep ahead of the curb.”. “She works so hard. I wish I could give her more time to do the things she loves.”. “Oh yeah. My kids are really something special too. Helping a lot of people and saving plenty more. They’ve grown to be so strong and courageous. It’s too bad Roy couldn’t make it here. Really I couldn’t asks for anything more out of my family...Except maybe for my husband to visit more. He’s never really around as much as he should be.” “Ugh. I wish my husband wasn’t around as much.” “Why’s that?” “Oh, its- its nothing.” “Nu-uh. There’s obviously something.” “No really. There isn’t. Honest.” “Come on. Are kids are dating, we might as well get into the juicy bits. So spill it.” With a disgruntled sigh, Renee’s mother opens with: “My husband is...very stressful to deal with. He’s always been so full of himself. Like I think he genuinely cares more about his wealth and family statue over his own family. Its gotten so bad, that...I...started seeing another man behind his back...” Near speechless, the blue haired mom breaks through, mentioning: “Really?...I...If it’s gotten that bad, than why don’t you divorce him?” “You’re kidding me? You want me to divorce from one of the richest business tycoons on the planet? Heh heh heh...Yeah, right. He’d destroy me in a legal case and take everything I have. Even poor Renee. I can’t bear to put her through any more then what she’s been through.”

Hearing all this, Tore retreats out from the corridor and away from the mothers. “Guess I had Renee’s mom pegged all wrong. She’s actually kinda nice. But if its not her, then that just leaves out...Oh no...” He hurries through the hall, hoping to quickly discover Renee once more.

And sure enough, he finds her, unfortunately with her father. Seeing both of them head down towards a less than crowded hall, he figures that this might be the moment he’s been waiting for. Glancing behind the corridor, he prepares himself with his fake accent: “Time for Agent Bluebird to do what he does best. Check to see if everything is in working order. Floral pin camera, check. Communications, check. Determination...Check-a-roony. Then I’m all set. It’s time to activate stealth mode.”

Back in the lab, Kingsley and Cayenne having listened to the conversation. “Well, guess the moms all clean, making the only abusive piece of shit to be...” Cayenne guesses. “Her dad. I should have known it was him. He can’t be pulling Renee away from the party without a reason. This might be it. I don’t think I can watch.” “Kingsley.” “You’re right. You’re right. Need to pull myself together. Okay, with the floral pin in check, it should be ready to record right about...” the boy relays typing away at his computer. With one more press of the button, a red circle appears on the upper left of the video feed. “Now.” “Damning evidence, here we come.” Just then, they hear the lab door open. Turning about, they see Kingsley’s mom about to walk down. “Hi pumpkin.” she cheerfully greets. Kingsley swiftly turns off the monitor and speaker, both he and Cayenne scramble through the lab in a panic.

When his mom comes down, she finds her son tinkering underneath a piece of machinery, Cayenne keeping up the heavy metal up so he can work. “Oh hi, Cayenne. Didn’t know you were down here.”. “Hey, Ms. S. Just helping Kingsley with his project.” she responds. “That’s so sweet. Um, sorry for the little intrusion, Kingsley. I just need to get something your dad left in here. I promise I’ll be really quick.”. “Aight mom.”. Under the large piece of construction, Kingsley pretends to be busy, the casting shadow hiding his nervous sweat quite well. “The fuck do we do now?” Cayenne whispers, trying to keep the mother from hearing. “Don’t worry. As long as the computer isn’t shut off, it should still be recording the footage. As long as Tore doesn’t screw things up on his end, we should be fine.”

In the lonely hallway, Renee and her father walk along through the well decorated corridors. The fixtures above shining upon the nervous sweat that was drip down her head. They however, do not notice their blue sneaking pursuer, who was quietly singing to himself the theme of mission impossible. Swiftly, he sneaks about the halls, hiding behind the fancy décor laid strewn about the hallway.

Seeing them turn the corner, he follows ahead, but bumps into a wayward stand with a priceless vase atop that was about to fall over. The boy tries to catch the vase to keep it from shattering upon marble floor, juggling it as he tries to keep a grip on the well polished piece of expensive pottery. Finding his grip, he quickly places the vase onto the pedestal and backs away from the worthwhile décor. Taking his leave, he does not notice the pottery falling to the ground with a shatter.

From around the corner, he notices one of the doors open quiet a crack. Approaching the door, he could hear the sound of scolding coming from the other side. Peeking within, Tore finds Renee father fuming at his daughter, Renee herself looking like she’s on the verge of tears. “The way you acted in front of the aristocrats was utterly appalling. Mocking our guests in front of everyone, such an embarrassment.” the father barked. “I-I’m sorry. I promise I won’t act that way again. Please, just calm down, I-”. Before she could finish apologizing, the father smack his daughter across the face, Tore shocked by the sudden attack. As Renee rubs the red spot the strike had left behind, she hears her father continue with: “I thought I taught you better than to act out in public. Are you trying to soil our families reputation?”. Angered by his response right after his assault, she barks back, questioning: “Is that all you care about anymore? Your precious family reputation instead of your actual family?”. Hearing his daughter talk back to him makes the raging father strike his daughter once more, enough to make the girl almost well up in tears. The site makes the blue boy tighten his grip upon the elegant wooden doorway, enough to quietly crack the engraved wood. “Where did you get the spine to talk back to me like that? You been drifting towards the realm of disrespect ever since you’ve been transferred to public school. You are going to straighten up this pitiful excuse for an act and apologize to for your rude behavior. Do you understand me?”. “No...”. “What? Young lady. I demand your respect right this instant!” the enraged father screams. “Why should I respect someone who demands for it? Someone who strikes his own daughter to force her to?”. That statement was the final straw. The fathers tighten his fists in a rage in preparation for one more strike. He readies to strike her with all he’s got, aiming his swing straight down towards Renee. It’s at this moment that Tore has run out of patients, refusing to watch this horror show of parental abuse no more. He burst through the door, dashing straight towards the abusive piece of shit. The father turns around wondering who dares interrupt him. Just when he sees Tore right in front of him, he’s met with a face full of the boys hard fist. The powerful swing was strong enough to send Renee’s father flying into the wall. The entire bedroom shook upon the fathers grizzly impact, lodging him in the wooden wall. Before Renee could process what transpired, Tore tosses her on his back and bolts away. A moment after their escape, the father opens his one bloodshot eye, a growling rage escaping from his lungs.

As they rush through the eloquent halls, Tore presses his finger upon his earpiece, begging: “Come on, someone pick up. Anyone?”. “Wait, were you talking into an earpiece earlier? Who are you even trying to even get a hold of?” the blonde demands him to answer. Hearing no one on the other line, he responds to her with: “Grr. No time to explain. Got find a way out fast. Where’s the nearest window?”. “Its around the corner, but what are you-”. Before Renee could ask a follow up question, Tore quickly turns the sharp corner.

She finds them heading towards a closed window leading out into the night sky. Concerned how her ride isn’t exactly slowing to a halt, she worries aloud: “Slow down, we’re gonna crash right through!”. Right when they were about crash through, the blue boy blast a hole in the wall. The dozens of guests in the backyard of the manor glanced towards the nearby explosion, including Mally and her mom. They watch as Tore leaps out from the smoke with his supposed girlfriend and takes off into the night sky.

Mally and their mom looked at one another and knew exactly what they needed to next. They need to make their escape right this second, before somebody pipes up. But before they could even move an inch, everyone hears someone screaming from inside the manor. The smoke clearing, everyone behold there eyes upon the host of the gala, his face red from not only the attack, but from the fuming rage irradiating form his being. Like this asshole looked like a messed up red beat, he was so fucking angry. Mr. Buxaplenty takes in as much breath as he possibly can and roars out: “That blue bastard flew off with my DAUGHTEEEEEEEER!!!!!”. His roar echoes passed the manor, blowing the leftover smoke surrounding him away. The mans breath returning, roughly turning into a low key growl as he shifts his gaze over towards the two ladies. Once he regains the strength to scream once more, he thrust his accusing finger towards them and shouts at the top of his lungs: “Those two….GET THEEEEEEM!!!!”. Dozens of well suited guards begin to pour out into the backyard and make their charge towards Mally and her mother. The guards on the approach, Mally herself pulls out the grapplyo that Hank had lent her to test. Guess now is a good time as any. She tosses the gadget towards one of the approaching security, slugging one of them right in the face. The yo yo returning, she finds not a single stretch on the wheel. Quite the durable piece of work.

Mally then throws her grapplyo towards another guard, the gadget entrapping the watchmen in her grip. The pixie dressed skater slams the patrolman towards his fellow co workers, all the well suited guards being thrashed down like a hit and run massacre, only the car being one another. Retracting the yo yo, she wonders how strong the gadgets string actually is. Hank, don’t fail now.

Looking towards the fountain, she soon is about to test that theory when she grabs her moms arm and starts to rush towards the decorative water spire. Mally throws her yo yo onto the fountain, and like Hank said, stuck to the drizzling spire like radical sticky tape. She than tugs hard upon the grapplyo’s end, flinging them around the fountain and past the security team. Landing upon the ground, they head down the side of the manor with the patrol on their tail.

In front of the manor, they try to look for their car, looking among the dozens of fancy automobiles. “Do you remember where we parked?” the mom wonders. “Not a clue.”. “Over hear!” a wayward voice calls out. From behind one of the decorative bushes on the side of the front yard, they see a hand waving over to them. With security closing in, they don’t have much choice but to run for the stranger.

Jumping behind the foliage, the security team spreading out to search for them. Behind the bush, they are greeted with the misses of the manor. “Mrs. Buxaplently? What are you-”. “Shh.” she hushes. After looking over the bush, she feels around the ground until grasping at a hidden noose under the grass. Pulling upon the rope, she lifts up the lid to a hidden passage way. “Get going.”. As the both of them climb down, the blue haired mother stops to asks the Mrs. Buxaplenty: “What about you?”. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Who knows what he might try if I run off too. Just get going. Hurry.”. Climbing down the tunnel, their savior closes the passage lid.

Kingsley mother digs around an assortment of gadgets in her search, Kingsley himself still pretending to work on his supposed project. The boy genius begins to get anxious, the thoughts of what he might be missing start swelling in his head. Cayenne hears him quietly groan to himself, whispering to him: “Dude, chill the fuck out. She might hear you.”. “I know. I’m just getting kinda nervous. Our agent is out there blind with no directions at all. Who knows what he might do without us.”. “Just relax, sure she won’t be in here for much longer.”. “But its nearly been 10 minutes. And who knows how much longer my mom might be in here.”. “Found it!” they hear her call out. The mom pulls from the pile a pronged fork like gadget. “Sorry for bothering you so much, sweetie. I’ll leave the two of you alone now.”.

As soon as the mom shuts the door behind her, the two of them rush towards the computer. Turning on the monitor, they see the feed showing them a birds eye view of the city. “What is...What’s happening? Why is he leaving the party?” Kingsley wonders. “Oh, what the hell did that dumbass do now?” Cayenne curses. Turning the microphone on, they ready to speak into the microphone once more.

Up in the starless sky, Tore flies through the city air with Renee upon his back like a flying chauffeur, healing the wounds her father inflicted. “You okay?” he asks her. “I think I am.”. The blue boy starts to hear is friend through his earpiece once more, Kingsley relaying with: “Tore, come in. Tore, do you respond?”. “Kingsley? Finally. Why’d you black out on me, man?”. “Wait, Kingsley? Was that who you were talk to earlier?” Renee sternly questions. “Is that Renee? Why are the both of you flying away from the party?”. A nervous giggle escaping his mouth, he begins to admit with: “So, I might have took the plan in a slight turn, uh...”. “What did you do?”. “Nothing much...Just...punched Renee’s dad into a wall is all.”. “What!” Kingsley exclaims. “Holy shit.” Cayenne laughs. “And I might have snatch his daughter away in my panic.” Tore continues. “Oh my god.” Kingsley groans. “Fucking hell.” Cayenne chortles. “Ahem!” the blue boy hears his passengers cough. Looking over, he finds Renee’s patients quickly draining, him only giving her a nervous laugh in response as he turns back. “Point being...We might need a place to hide...Like ASAP.”. “Uh...You know what, maybe you should just come back to the manor. Just...give me a moment to prepare.” Kingsley tells him. “Prepare for what?”.

“Kingsley Spicer! I cannot believe what I have just heard you say!”. In the lab, Kingsley was confronting bout of his parents, having just told them about his affairs with the Buxaplenty’s daughter. Obviously, they are very pissed, Kingsley drowning in a cold sweat facing their judgmental glares. Cayenne stands to the side, watching the entire shit show before her unfold. “How long have you been going out with the daughter of our bitter rivals behind our back?” she fumes. “Well...It’s...b-been about several months now. But I wouldn’t have to lie if I didn’t really like her.” their son tries to quell. “Buddy. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” his father sternly questions. Too nervous to respond, the only sound he could muster was a faint groan. “This is unbelievable. I didn’t even think you could lie to us like this. Just what other stuff are you keeping from us?” the mother wonders. “Nnn...we’re...not actually working on a school project.”. After a disappointing sigh, his dad asks the follow up question: “Then what have you been doing down here all night?”. Although he’s quite reluctant to show them, he’s got no other avenue to take.

On the monitor, they review the footage that Tore had acquired, watching Renee’s father not only scold, but strike his own daughter. The parents are left mortified, reeling back with every strike. Kingsley can’t help but clench his fist, the site of seeing his beloved being hurt like this. It truly awakened a deep feeling in his heart. Upon seeing their agent strike her father towards the wall, Cayenne whistles and remarks: “Damn. That had to hurt.”. With all that seen, Kingsley turns off the monitor and turns to his parents. “Now you see why I had to set all this up? I didn’t want to lie to you guys, honest. But the thought of the girl I love going through all of this. I...I just couldn’t take it! I had to do something, anything!”. Both of his parents hear their boy begin to whimper, the tears swelling from his eyes. “I’m so sorry about lying to you both, I-” the boy cries, tightly shutting his eyes in remorse. “Kingsley, stop, please.” his mom begs. The boy opens his eyes, staring at his parents as he hears his dad follow with: “You don’t have to apologize to us. We ain’t not mad at you anymore.”. “Someone you loved dearly was in danger and you did whatever it took to help them. You should never regret that.” his mom declares. Kingsley was truly relieved. Hearing his parents not only understand, but encourage him to follow his heart and rescue his love made him let out quite the euphoric sigh.

“Uh, by the way. If you two were down here all night, than who was capturing the footage?”. Just then, they heard the basement door swing open, looking over to see their blue agent in the doorway. “Evening ladies and gentleman. Agent Blue bird is back from his daring mission of undercover espoinaAAAGH!” Tore announces in the spy accent, but is quickly interrupted when he begins to fall down the stairs. All of them watch as the supposed spy tumbles ill gracefully down the set of step, landing on the basement floor with a loud audible thud. As the indigo agent moans on the ground, Renee walks past, sidestepping him in her worry. Kingsley draws his attention from his agent and more towards his beloved, happily exclaiming: “Renee!”. The platinum blonde turns her gaze away from her rescuer and towards her beloved exclaiming back: “Kingsley!”. The two rush towards one another, holding each other in their warm embrace. The site makes Kingsley parents hearts melt, their son with someone he truly holds dear. The mother gives a soft coo, letting her tears of joy flow through.

Cayenne check up on their blue spy, seeing him try to pry himself off the floor. “You doing okay.” she asks. “Yeah...Did I do a good?” he mumbles in his daze. She thinks about what to say for just a moment before concluding: “Ehhh...Sure why not.”. “HoOrAaaAAaAay...”.

Breaking form their embrace, Kingsley asks Renee: “Are you okay? How bad did he hurt you? Are there any bruises?”. “Kingsley, Kingsley, listen. I’m fine. I’m just happy to see you.”. In the background, the blue bird picks himself up on the floor and dusts off his suit. Kingsley mother approaches the young couple, greeting the blonde with: “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. I’d never imagine that he’d get so much worse.”. Tore than adjusts his cuff links, waving his eye brows up and down towards Cayenne as he did so. Cayenne scowls at the boy, making the boy back away, smiling in a nervous sweat. “And to think. He’d do that kinda shit to his own child.” the dad remarks. “Honestly, I’m glad he didn’t find out about Kingsley and I. He would have exploded if he found out I was going out with someone from his rival family.”.

“Hang on. Something still bugging me about all this. Why is whole dumb family rivalry such a big deal anyway?” Tore interjects. “Come to think of it. Mom never did tell me what happened between all of you guys.” Renee mentions. “Yeah, whenever I asked the both of you, you guys always allude to something happening long ago. Just hinting that you crossed one another at some point. What gives?” Kingsley asks his parents. His mother gives a weary sigh and admits to her sons: “I guess its finally time you deserve to know what happened all those years.”.

Back when I was a little girl, both mine and Remy’s dad had set us up on countless dates to try and get us together. They figured that if our families joined, we’d be the most powerful multinational conglomerate in the world. Remy figured the whole ordeal was nothing short of fate. I felt otherwise. The plan fell through as I drifted away from him, his egotistical madness just too much for me to bear. Least to say, he didn’t take my rejection well. He swore that he would do anything to make me his. Over the years that threat drifted away in the back of my mind, especially when I met your dad. He managed to help me out of the hole of depression that I’d found myself stuck in ever since your grandmothers death and we’ve been happy ever since. A little of a rocky road at times, but we’ve managed to always bounce back. Remy than returned, seeing me not only with someone other than him, but happy with your dad, drove him insane. He couldn’t take it. In his desperation, he kidnapped me, saying that if he couldn’t have me, then on one else could. You’re dad quickly came to my rescue, engaging him for me in what seemed to be a long and brutal fight. Remy nearly won, on the cusp of killing your dad. That’s when I stepped in and saved him. Both of us worked together to put a stop to him escaping with our very lives. From that day, the Spicers and Buxaplentys have been bitter rivals to this day.

The children around the couple were enraptured by their dangerous history. Renee can’t believing that her own father attempted such a heinous act before her time. A lot of things were going through the blondes head, the first thing she says is such. “Oh my...god...I...I can’t believe my dad did all of that to you two. I’m...so sorry. I-”. “Renee, sweetie, don’t say another word. Everything that happened back than was your dads fault. You have nothing to be sorry about.” the mom tells her. “I’m just worried about what he might do to my mom with me gone.”.

All of them suddenly hear Tore gasp aloud, screaming: “I forgot about Mally and Mom! They could still be at the party! I-I-I gotta get back over there fast!”. Not a single step does he take before his phone begins to ring. Pulling it out, he finds his sister calling for him. A relieved sigh escapes his mouth before he answers, gushing with: “Oh my god, Mally. I’m so glad you guys are safe. I thought that you guys might have been trapped over at the-”. “What the hell did you do!” she screams, being loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, and the phone not even on speaker. “Um...Excuse me?”.

Over in an alleyway in the city, their mom was peeking out into the streets while Mally was talking to her brother. “We saw you bust through a wall and fly off with you’re girlfriend. Her dad came out screaming and sent security after us. If it weren't for Renee’s mom. Who knows what might have happened. And it turns out, Mr. Buxaplenty isn’t the only one after us. “What you mean by that?”. “Have you checked the news?”.

Upstairs, everyone turned on the living room television, where upon a news man chimed in, announcing: “You’ve heard it here folks. The eccentric trillionaire Remy Buxaplenty has just laid down a handsome reward for the return of his daughter.”. “Oh no.” Kingsley utters. “Earlier this even, the wealthy couple had thrown their annual Buxaplenty Gala, inviting investors and stars alike. Among them were a family of three, the eldest son claiming to be the daughters boyfriend.”. Upon that statement, a picture of Tore, Mally, and their mother had been displayed beside the newscaster head. “Aw man, I blinked.” Tore mentions. “The blue boy had assaulted Mr. Buxaplenty while discussing matters with his daughter in private, snatching the poor girl away from her loving father.”. Renee lets out a disbelieving sigh, remarking with: “Yeah, right. Loving.”. “Is this a case of a lovers affair, dare I say an extreme showmanship of elopement? Well we here can’t say. Regardless, everyone will be on the lookout for the blue boy and his family in hopes of claiming the 10 billion dollar reward.” “How much!?” Cayenne reclaims. “And they better hurry. Buxaplenty says this offer only lasts until midnight.”.

Kingsley turns off the TV and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Thi-this is fine. No need to panic. Just need to take this one step at a time.”. All of them watch as he begins to nervously laugh, which soon turns to panicked hyperventilation as he goes into the corner of the room. “Kingsley, Kingsley.” Renee goes as she approaches. She tries to calm her actual boyfriend down, hugging him while claiming: “It’s alright. Things aren’t as bad as they seem yet. We can think of away out of this. You just need to calm down.”. Kingsley’s breathing pace begins to slow down, coming to a more reasonable speed. “Right?” he utters. He turns back towards his friends and family and tells them in a far more calm manner: “So. We need to make plans to get Renee and Tore’s family out of town fast.”. With a phone to her ear, the mom worries with: “Nnn...Chloe’s not answering her phone. I hope she didn’t lose it.”. “It’s okay. As long as no one saw Renee come here, we should be safe...”. The boy genius turns towards his indigo agent, asking: “No one saw you fly here, right?”. “A couple. Why?” “Guys.” the dad rings out. Looking over, they find her staring out through the window, asking all of them: “Think you might wanna see this.”.

Everyone looks out the window with her, viewing around and wondering what the father wanted them to see. “See what?” Cayenne asks. “Out there.” he responds, pointing towards the front of the manor. Out from the distance, they could spot a cluster of faint glows amongst a crowd of shadows. “What is that?” Kingsley mom wonder. “Kinda looks like an angry mob.” Tore answers.

A closer look revealed his assumption to be correct. A large mob of people was slowly crawling towards the manor, armed to the teeth with sharp weaponry, torches, guns, some even sporting armed rocket launchers. As most of Kingsley and his friends look towards the mob with uncertainty, wonder, even fear, all Cayenne has to say to the entire matter was: “...Well, shit...”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just something to close out a little story plot that I set up. Just to add a note here, the official map of Townsville was release after this Chapter was long finished. Though I suppose it largely doesn't matter.

[anne-wentworth]

Suit and Tie

At a gala, the most eligible bachelors of the city are auctioned off for charity. Oliver never thought that Felicity Smoak would be the one to win a date with him. Rival CEO au of sorts ??

Read on ao3

Oliver stepped onto the stage, along with all of the other eligible bachelors of Starling City, ready to be auctioned off like a piece of meat.

That wasn’t fair. It was for charity after all.

Turns out that people would pay a lot for a date with the city’s finest men.

Usually, Oliver didn’t mind. In fact, if he was being honest, he enjoyed it a little. It stroked his ego. And the winner was usually a leggy blonde or brunette, he wasn’t picky with his preferences, which was an added bonus.

But this year...his heart just wasn’t in it.

He wasn’t sure what changed but all of a sudden he was tired.

Something in him yearned for something more but he didn’t know what.

What else could he possibly want anyway?

He already had everything.

Yet that nagging feeling tugging at his stomach wouldn’t leave him alone. Maybe his mother’s endless lectures about his image and playboy lifestyle were finally getting to him.

Or maybe he realized that he wasn’t the kind of person his father would be proud of.

He didn’t know but being around girls who only wanted him for his money and guys who only wanted to be his friend because of his name was becoming exhausting.

It was like his world broke but he was the only one who knew.

“Our next bachelor is none other than the CEO of Queen Consolidated himself....Oliver Queen!” the woman announced, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Plastering on a smile for the cheering crowd, Oliver walked to the center of the stage.

But it wasn’t long before he tuned out again, losing track of who placed their bids on him and at what price. He couldn’t tell anyone apart anyway with everyone wearing masks to fit the theme of a masquerade.

He had arrived at the event with his own face bare, the mask he wore for the public being enough.

“Sold to number thirty four!” the announcer exclaimed and the room applauded again, although now it was mixed with murmurs of disappointment.

Oliver’s eyes fell to the woman holding the card with thirty four printed on it. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, matching her golden mask. Her lips were painted a deep red, the same shade of her dress. He couldn’t help but notice the way it hugged her figure perfectly, as if it was made specifically for her.

At least she was hot.

He made his way off the platform, heading towards her to politely introduce himself as a man in a tux passed around to collect the placards.

Oliver was always the last one to be ‘sold.’ He was the main event.

Sauntering up to the blonde, he flashed her his award winning grin.

And then she removed her mask.

Oliver blinked in surprise, standing there like an idiot as he forgot how to speak.

Felicity Smoak.

The CEO of Smoak Industries was his biggest competitor. She was his rival. And from their brief interactions in the past, he gathered that she hated him. Which was fine because he hated her too.

At least that’s what he told himself anyway.

“You bought me?” he finally asked when he found his voice.

“Yeah...” she trailed off awkwardly and Oliver could see the flashes of regret in her eyes.

“Why?”

“It seemed like a fun thing to do,” she shrugged nonchalantly but he felt the uncertainty radiating off her.

“Why?” he repeated because he was still shrouded in confusion.

“I may have drunk too much champagne,” she admitted with a wince, nervously running her fingers through her curls.

At that, Oliver let out a laugh.

Of course she did.

Felicity visibly relaxed at the sound and a warmth settled within him.

“You’re such a lightweight,” he teased.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, swiveling on her heel and heading towards the open bar.

With the corners of his mouth still turned up, he found himself following her.

His night just got a lot more interesting.

She leaned against the counter where she discarded her mask, sipping on a new flute of champagne. He sidled up next to her in silence, not exactly sure what to say.

Oliver always thought that there was something lonely about her. It reminded him of himself. But tonight there was an air of sadness around her too.

He wondered what she was trying to drink away.

“I hate that the press are always here at these things,” she mumbled, shooting a glare at one of the journalists from Star Magazine.

As Oliver followed her gaze, he suddenly remembered watching her talk to a woman in a gold mask earlier. Even with half her face hidden, he had been able to sense her annoyance as she wore a frown that continued to deepen. He had only been half paying attention though, flitting from one investor to the next as he tried to avoid getting roped into an interview himself.

Now however, he wanted to know more.

“Well it is a gala for charity,” he said. “You know the rich can’t do anything charitable without publicizing it.”

“Right,” she replied, her lips quirking up. “Because then what would be the point?”

“Exactly.”

She sipped her drink with a small smile and Oliver tried not to stare.

Her smile had just become his new favourite thing.

Quickly, he pushed the thought aside. Yet he couldn’t deny that there was something about her that was absolutely enchanting.

Oliver had barely touched a drink all night. However he didn’t need alcohol to make impulsive decisions.

So as the music began to swell and couples started making their way onto the dance floor, he asked the most important question in the world.

“Will you dance with me?”

“I didn’t think dancing was your thing. Outside of clubs I mean,” she said.

Her words stung but it wasn’t like he could be angry. After all, that was the reputation he had built for himself.

“I’ll make an exception tonight,” he said softly.

“How many girls have you used that line on?” she snorted but her eyes were shining.

“I lost track a while ago,” he said with a shrug.

Oliver couldn’t possibly remember every girl he had flirted with.

But tonight he meant it.

“Fine,” she eventually sighed, downing the rest of her champagne before taking his hand in hers.

He hid his surprise as he led her out onto the floor. She threw her arms around his neck while he placed hers at her waist, sparks erupting in his heart.

Suddenly, she rested her head on his chest and everything in Oliver stilled.

“I’m tipsier than I thought,” she groaned against him.

“Told you you’re a lightweight,” he responded, unable to resist his grin.

She muttered something under her breath and he thought he caught the word ass but Oliver was nothing short of delighted.

They swayed slowly amidst the other couples and he was aware that he was basically holding her up but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t mind holding her forever.

It was a dangerous thought that snuck its way into his brain but this time, he didn’t shove it in a corner.

Oliver had always been intrigued by the woman who graduated MIT at the age of nineteen and built an empire by twenty four. Felicity was a genius in every way possible and when she set up shop in Starling City and gave his family’s business a run for its money Oliver was impressed.

But it was clear that he wasn’t the only one who put on a persona for the public.

However tonight was different. The tides were changing, something shifting beneath their feet.

With Felicity in his arms, Oliver could breath again.

“So why were you trying to drown yourself in champagne?” he inquired gently.

A long pause followed and he was beginning to think that she wasn’t going to answer at all when she finally spoke.

“The journalist earlier was talking to me and saying how I’m doing so well and everything but of course she had to bring up the fact that I’m not seeing anyone. She was talking about how I don’t have anyone to share my success with like firstly I don’t need to share my success with anyone it’s all mine thank you very much. It wouldn’t have really bothered me but my cousin just got engaged so the only thing my mother can ask me lately is when am I going to get settled down because you know that’s the most important thing in the world.”

Her speech was slurred a bit and even though she obviously tried to hide it, the bitterness in her tone was unmistakable.

“I’ve been on Forbes thirty under thirty three times already but all my mother cares about is that I don’t have a husband yet,” she said with a harsh laugh.

Oliver knew what it felt like to disappoint his mother far too well. But he never fathomed that someone as exceptional as Felicity would share such feelings.

She was perfect.

His heart broke for her a little.

“Oh wow I ramble even more than usual when I’m drunk,” she said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Oliver didn’t take the bait.

“I’ve been running the company for five years now but all my mother is concerned about is my image and what people think of me,” he confessed quietly. “In her eyes...I’ll never be able to fill my father’s shoes.”

It was something that he had never said out loud.

But for Felicity, he voiced the thing that haunted him most.

“I think you do a great job with QC,” she said, almost a whisper.

Sunlight surged throughout his veins, pulling him into a sort of comfort he hadn’t experienced in ages.

“I think you’re amazing. All on your own.”

She sucked in a breath and he wondered if he was affecting her the way she was affecting him.

And so they stood, entwined together with their hearts beating as one. The rest of the room faded into nothing as Oliver threw caution to the wind and allowed himself to become lost in all that was Felicity.

He let his walls come down.

It wasn’t long before she pulled away, placing her hand against her head.

“I think I should head out now,” she mumbled.

“I’ll take you home,” he offered because he didn’t want to say goodbye to her just yet.

And because she didn’t quite look as if she could survive on her own at the moment.

“Oh you don’t have to. It’ll still pretty early you don’t need to leave yet.”

“Felicity I wanted to leave the second I walked into the building,” he informed her.

Her name rolled off his tongue with ease, the three syllables tasting pleasant in his mouth.

“Okay,” she said, her lip curling upward.

He led her out of the room, his arm still around her as he supported her and already dreaded the instant when he would be forced to let her go.

Pulling out his phone, he called his driver and it before they knew it he arrived. They got in and Felicity leaned her head against his shoulder and then just like that she was asleep.

If he didn’t know any better, he would say that butterflies were flying around his stomach as he looked at her with her eyes fluttered shut. But he didn’t get those anymore. Besides, he wasn’t some kid.

The one thing that he couldn’t deny however, was that for just a night, his world felt whole again.

And the feeling of longing in his stomach had melted away.

Oliver had no idea what any of it meant.

But god how he wanted to find out.

[scriptureofashes]

gimme some winteriron like...fluff its my secret weakness (maybe a halloween party and buck has a really dumb old costume or something? go wild)

Ahaaaaa I think I sort of turned fluff into angst but like, it’s STILL THERE SO

Also I just had to include Peter lmao

Send me a prompt!

Buckywas going to kill Steve. No joke, he was. He was going tosteal that top hat of his and shove his stupid walking cane up hisass, see if blond President Lincoln was still smirking then.

“Cometo the party, they said,” he muttered. “It’ll be fun,they said.”

Sufficeto say, Steve wasn’t very happy with his best friend doing nothingwith his life except workout, catch up with the 21st century and dodge any form of socializing– he was not hiding,Steve – with any of his so called new team mates. He had so manydifficulties trying not to mix up English with Russian for a whilethere, or trying to sleep without blood-curdling nightmares assaultinghim every night, or trying not to kill people who accidentally snuckup on him.

So.Eat, sleep, train, repeat.

Also,attend arm maintenance sessions. Which was also a bit of a problem.Not at first, mind you—he was begrudgingly fine with letting HowardStark’s son tamper with his arm if it meant he could stop some ofthe chronic pain that throbbed and burned every day at his shoulderand phantom arm, or ease his every move so that he could punch thebad guys in the face with minimal casualties. Regarding himself, thatis.

Butdon’t think he was leaping at the chance of yet another wackymechanic poking at his arm and reminding him how much of a freak he’sbecome. No, it was because Tony Stark was a wonder. He was theone who noticed, the pain whenever he moved, the rust thatreared its ugly head in battle. And when he asked to take a look, itwas as if he was barely holding back his excitement. As if his armwas something to marvel about.

Stevehad mentioned a therapist to help him, but the already ludicrous ideaturned useless as he adhered to sessions with Tony in the workshop.

Hedidn’t understand or try to help him, no. He just listened. Helistened, and refused to treat him as if he were glass, likesome people. Despite what Bucky did to him, he still talked tohim as himself, talked to him how he would talk to an equal humanbeing.

AndBucky soon found himself lost, lostin those doe brown eyes and clever hands, and he was a God damnidiot, that’s what he was.

Goodjob, pal. You’re gone on Tony Stark. And you killed his parents.

Givingup on yet the third try at picking up his beer, Bucky let Russianslip through his teeth as he cursed his choice of costume. Again. Hereally was going tokill Steve for convincing him into coming to Tony’s Halloweenparty. And he was going to kill himself for coming as werewolf,of all ridiculous things.

He’dasked Sam how he could hide his arm and he’d suggested full-bodycostumes, saying he had the perfect one, but Bucky did not expectthis one. Noteto self: kill Sam too.

“Doyou need help with that?”

Buckyraised one eyebrow at the shorty cloakedin white on the other side of the kitchenisland.

“Whatare you, a spider ghost?”

Spider-Manflailed. “I’m justa ghost! The eyes are so that people know who’s under thedisguise.”

“Doesn’t that go against the point of a disguise?”

Thekid blinked at him – or his specs did.

“Yousir, can lick away the beer fromthe floor.”

Buckysnorted and watched him dash back to the party, beer can on one handand Coke on the other, before settling next to the oneperson he’d obviously only go to. His black tux suited him like asecond skin and his eyes gleamed all the way from across the room ashe spun a tale to the very skeptical Agent Hill.Bucky could hear his laughter, and so could the butterflies in hisstomach, apparently.

Abunny. Tony was dressed as abunny, fluffy whiteears sprouting from his dark hair and nose painted into a pink snout.When he’d turned, Bucky felt blood rushing at the sight of a whitelittle ball just over his backside, nestled in the creasethat joined the tails of his coat. God damnit.

APlayboy bunny, Natasha hadclarified,dressed indark green pants, black gloves, black top, and avariety of weapons beltedalong her hips. Hadn’tSpidey blurted out, “Kim Possible!” right next to him, Buckywould have never remembered the show. Honestly,he’d expected something a lot more high maintenance from her.

He’dalso expected a high maintenance party, knowing Tony, but the Playboybunny in question convincedMs. Potts into dealing with the lavish Halloween party while he hadanother, more intimate party to finally reconnect with his old teammates, after a long way down the mutual apologies path.But Bucky would have paid tosee Clint and his Wonder Woman costume at a black tie event.

Butit wasn’t the party that was the only problem, obviously. Tonyin a bunny costume. Itwas sexy, alright. Damn sexy. But it was also adorable.Bucky had thought Tony was cute from the moment he’d first glancedat him, but this—thiswas almost torture. It fit Tony so well,what with the undying, endearing curiosity that watermarked hispersonality. He made the perfect bunny and Bucky was gonnathrow Steve and Sam out the window, how quick would that laughterdie, he wondered.

Hegrowled in their direction and turned away from the party. He reallyshouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have lefthis rooms. He shouldn’thave caved to Steve’s begging. He shouldn’t have caved to Tony’sbegging to check on his arm, heshouldn’t have read too much into his stares, he shouldn’t havemoved into the compound. He shouldn’t have left cryo.

Cometo think of it, maybe he should have stayed dead.

“Hey,sour wolf, party’sover there.”

Ifit were anyone else, Bucky would have grabbed them by the scruff andflung them at the wall. As it was, he just frowned at Tony’sconcern. His peripheral vision was jacked because of his costume, sohe heard more than saw the half-empty beer can as it came in contactwith the counter.

“Isit the arm? I could have a quick look.”

Buckywanted to laugh. He really didn’t deserve this man.

“No,it’s not that.” He swallowed back saliva. “I’m just thinkingI wasn’t that ready to do this.”

Tony’shand on his was definitely a surprise, butdefinitely not unwelcome. His pristine white gloves differed starklyfrom the dark fur covering his hand. Bucky turned slightly, just so,and met earnest brown. Tony’s smile was a rueful upturn of hismouth.

“Wenever really are,” he said. Something in his eyes made hope flarein Bucky’s chest. “Now come on, I need someone to laugh at Fury’spirate costume with me.”

“Youfreakin’serious—”

Buckyscanned the room and indeed, lo and behold, there was Nick Fury withhis ever permanent scowl and a blue pirate hat on his bald head. It was clearly shovedon by someone far too drunk and Bucky had never seen anythingfunnier.

Tonygrinned at his guffaw.“I really thought I’d get a treat from you, tonight.”

Buckyfelt his lips mirror his before he could help himself.

“Atreat?”

“Yes,instead I got tricked becauseyou got tricked intoSam’s suggestions. Now all thoughts of slobbering over hot soldierBucky Barnes on a Tarzanthong are out the window.”

Buckylaughed way too loud,feeling far too giddy for someone who hadn’t a single drop of boozeall evening.

“Ididn’t know what to do about the arm. And the hair.”

“Thearm didn’t need anything to be done with, thank you very much,”Tony chastised. He seemed to think for a moment. “You wouldhave rocked theAragorn look. I couldhave supplied a super realistic costume and everything.”

“Idon’t remember any Lord of the Rings characters with murderousmetal arms.”

Tonywaved a hand. “Steampunk. It’s a thing.”

Buckysmirked.

“Doesmy costume really put you off?” He lowered his head and his voice.“Is the little bunny afraid of the big bad wolf?”

Tonylooked more amused than charmed, lips tight like he was trying not tolaugh. His fake whiskersstretched on his cheeks as their eyes met, and his pink nosetwitched. It was cute as hell, too cute. Bucky wanted to steal akiss.

WhenTony beat him to it, he thought that maybe coming to the party wasn’t that much of a bad decision after all.

[avadakaravadra]

They Say It’s Your Birthday || Leo, Cat, & Jax

It’s the youngest Karavadra son’s birthday on All Hallow’s Eve, and the Karavadra patriarch has wasted no expense on the joint Halloween and birthday celebration. Drinks will be poured, games will be played, and laughs will be had—  with an ending that will leave one gasping for air, and clutching one’s sides.

Cat looked down at her siblings from the far left staircase. What pissed her off the most about Jefferson was that he’d never let her go down the middle staircase, actually what pissed her off the most about Jefferson was that he made them do this ridiculous walk anyway. As she and her brothers made their way down the triple staircase of their ballroom, she eyed the guests who were all gagging to get a chance to talk to the birthday boy and the heir to the Karavadra fortune. She and Leo were simply a sideshow, something interesting to keep them busy before the real show. That was okay. Cat was going to make sure that they all enjoyed themselves, despite her personal feelings about this whole affair, at the end of the day it was for her baby brother and so she wouldn’t let him down. Plastering her best smile on, she glided elegantly down the stairs, her revolver brushing against the inside of her thigh where it sat securely holstered, just in case.

With the glittering mass sprawled out before him, Jax knew that his father most likely hadn’t thrown this party to celebrate him. The youngest Karavadra sibling having a birthday was just another reason for Jefferson to throw one of his infamous upper-crust soirees, and though Jax thrived in this environment— he knew it wasn’t truly for him. Not even for the holiday his birthday happened to coincide with. It was all for Jefferson. But Jax didn’t particularly mind. He would make it for himself, what with all the plans he had for networking the night away. Glancing to his right, he saw Cat descending, and to his left Leo seemed to be behaving himself for the moment. They walked in unison, the perfectly matched trio radiating an elegance and power. Three had always been considered a rather mystical number, and seeing the Karavadra siblings moving as one most likely made skeptics believe in its power, even if only for a moment.

Leo was currently doing this walk with his eyes completely crossed, just to see if he could. He knew no one was watching him, with his siblings around, who cared far more than he did, no one really looked at him. It hadn’t be announced, but every person who knew the family, knew there was no way that Leo was going to be heir. Especially when he had Jax and Cat as siblings, they actually did things. Sure, he still had people talking to him and attempting to get on his good side, but they figured out pretty quickly he literally could not give a shit. Finally at the end of the stairs, he turned his face to look at his brother, eyes still very much crossed with a stupid grin. “Happy birthday.”

As Cat reached the bottom of the stairs and caught sight of Leo’s ridiculous look, a smirk crossed her face. Once upon a time that would’ve elicited a shriek of laughter, but she had long ago learned that their father didn’t like it when she giggled or laughed, he preferred her to remain silent and elegant. “Happy birthday Jax,” she said patting him on the back. This was as affectionate as she got and as a waiter in a white tux brought them champagne she sipped on hers slowly, this would be her single alcoholic drink of the evening, except of course from when Jax made his toast. They all knew how this game was played. They all knew that they were nothing more than an extra decoration in this fine party that Jefferson was indulging himself in. They all knew that they were nothing more than props to him. Yet this was for Jax, at least, for Cat it was. Her brothers were everything and she wasn’t about to let them down. “You both look very handsome.” A rare compliment for anyone else, but for her brothers it was acceptable.

Jax only just managed to stifle the sigh of exasperation when he saw the face Leo was making, though deep down there was a part of him that was amused. He knew that if Leo wanted to make a fool of himself, there was little he could do to stop it. Besides, it helped remind him that there was perhaps the smallest bit of fun to be had here outside of their duty. The words from his siblings were something he took to heart though, knowing that at least someone, if not two someones here cared that he had been born on this day outside of how they might use him. Though it was sometimes hit or miss with Cat. Still, he was grateful to have them by his side. It was enough to bring the smallest of smiles to his face. “You too, Cat.” Usually he broke away from Cat and Leo to mingle with others coming together with them again every so often, but on the night of his birthday, he thought he might linger with them for a while longer. The hired band began to strike up some Halloween appropriate tunes, and suddenly the party was in full swing now that the siblings had completed their entrance.

“Cat does look very handsome tonight, doesn’t she?” Leo grinned at her, before actually taking a second to look at her and then at Jax. “Eh, I think you two might be sugarcoating it. You guys look okay. The real shining star is this face right here.” He gave them a fake smoldering look as he put one fist under his chin. If it hadn’t been Jax’s birthday, Leo would have already been off flirting with the wrong person just to piss off daddy dearest. Really, Leo’s entire party life had become a way just to piss their father off. Alas, it was Jax’s birthday and he wasn’t so willing to ruin the day for his own sake. “Cat, our baby brother is finally growing up.” He nudged Jax with his shoulder,“I remember when you used piss your pants like it was just yesterday. Wait… Was it just yesterday that you did?”

Rolling her eyes gently at Leo’s continued antics, Cat sighed and tried not to laugh. It was hard. Leo was genuinely very funny. Whilst they all did their best to be charming and socially perfect, the sad truth was that Leo did it effortlessly. Whilst he chose to make a fool out of himself to slight their father, he could have easily wrapped the ballroom full of guests around his pinky finger if he simply put his mind to it. “Well, we can’t all be born with your good looks, some of us had to have the brains, I don’t know exactly what Jax got though, maybe that is why you’re father’s favourite. He feels sorry for you.” She knew they all knew that wasn’t the reason. It was because Jax was a boy that he was their father’s favourite. “Day before yesterday I believe,” Cat found herself playing along with Leo, it wasn’t usual for her to indulge her twin like this, she was normally the one who was serious and stern, but not tonight. Maybe the champagne was going to her head.

“This is what I get for giving you a compliment? You turning against me?” Jax said while facing Cat. “And that’s easy. I got the only sound mind that isn’t susceptible to the delusion you two are obviously functioning under. Along with both the looks and the brain.” His siblings frustrated him to no end, but at the same time he found amusement in their words. Such was the mystery of the bond that was being brothers and sisters. Still his eyes rolled heartily at Leo’s words. “Baby brother? Please tell me, when did it become possible for a baby to be six foot, three. Apart from yourself, of course.” But just like everyone else, he couldn’t resist Leo’s charm, and the smile he’d cracked earlier still lingered on his lips. Grabbing his own champagne flute from a passing tray held by a server, he took a sip of it eagerly— knowing that a night such as this with his siblings would require alcohol. The party was somewhat less formal than usual, as all the classic Halloween games had been placed around the ballroom for guest to partake in. “So which of these am I beating you at first?” he said to both Cat and Leo, while waving an arm towards the entertainment.

“Ah, Jax, but here’s the issue. Delusion is much more fun. I get to do anything and people just write it off as an idiot being an idiot. It’s wonderful.” Leo had always been one of those kids that hadn’t need to study for anything and still get relatively good marks. However, he was incredibly lazy and didn’t have much ambition like his siblings did. He wanted to paint and be happy, away from what he saw ambition doing to the people around him. “Cat, won’t Jax always be our baby brother? No matter how tall or how old he becomes, he will always be the baby. Even a weirdly tall one.” He took a glass of champagne and then after a slight moment of thought took another one. There was never enough champagne. He sipped both glasses,“Beat me? Beat us? It might be your birthday, but we aren’t going to let you win because of that.”

“That sounds like something that only you could enjoy Leo,” Cat remarked with a laugh, shaking her head and causing her ebony hair to cascade in waves down her back. She looked up at both of her brothers and nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, there is nothing that Jax could do to stop being my baby brother,” she smirked gently and slipped through the crowd towards one of the games. People watched them move through the crowd, she was sure that people noticed her and Jax, they were well known within the legion and within the senate too, however Leo was more of a mystery. The third and unheard of Karavadra child. She wouldn’t be surprised if many of the guests were unaware of him. That was most likely the way that Jefferson liked to keep it too. “Well, since it is your birthday I’ll allow you to choose the first game Jax.”

Jax knew they meant it to be teasing, but at the same time— he couldn’t be entirely upset with the knowledge that there were two people in his life he could always count on to be there...even if they were unbearably annoying about it. “Oh how kind of you, Cat,” he said with no lack of sarcasm. There passed an apple bobbing game, but Jax didn’t particularly fancy dipping his entire head into a bucket of water at a party that was meant to be somewhat in honor of him. As the trio moved on to the next game, the crowd parted for them none of them having to make any sort of particular movements to get people out of their way. Perhaps if they’d been moving singularly it would have been more difficult, but together they were a force to be reckoned with. Finally, he came to a classic game, one whose objective was to knock the teeth of a masterfully painted monster with balls. It was straight forward enough. “Alright then,” Jax said before handing Leo the balls, “age before beauty.”

The one thing that Leo and Jefferson could agree on, was that neither one of them wanted to be related to the other. Leo didn’t go off telling people whose son he was, just like Jefferson didn’t mention the first son very often. It was a good understanding, it left Leo relatively unbothered by people who were trying to get to the top through them. He settled both his glasses of champagne on a nearby table, though not before taking a good sip of each glass. He took the balls from Jax, making a big show of weighing them in his hands. “Are you just letting me go first because I’m both older than you and obviously the best looking in the family?” He threw the first ball, knocking only a few teeth in, but let out a laugh. “Maybe I should have trained for this.” His next two throws were alright but still a few teeth remained. “Huh, this looks like what Jax will in a few years.”

Soon it was Cat’s go. Normally she would have gone her hardest, but tonight was Jax’s birthday and she didn’t want to disappoint him by winning. So she did her best to make it look like the champagne went to her head. As she picked up the first ball she knocked several teeth out, the second ball knocked another few teeth out and the final ball left two teeth standing. It wasn’t a bad shot, but she knew that if she had wanted she could’ve done better. At least that was what she was telling herself. Maybe the champagne had really gone to her head. “Well,” she said pretending that she was bored, “that was an anti climax,” throwing the balls to Jax one at a time, she smirked, “your go, baby brother.”

Once again Jax rolled his eyes at the baby brother comment, but nonetheless he stepped forward to take his turn. Leo had done as expected, but he’d been somewhat surprised at Cat’s performance. Though her movements did appear to look as if she was feeling the alcohol she’d been drinking. Still— he was the slightest bit suspicious. Well he certainly wouldn’t be holding back. Letting all the projectiles fly one at a time, at the end of his turn, all the teeth had been knocked down, and the game attendant smiled cheerily. “Only makes sense that the man of the hour should win,” he said towards the trio. Jax gave him a polite smile, but soon wandered away from the game- figuring his siblings would wander with him. “So it’s confirmed,” he said to the both of them. “If you need any teeth knocked out, just call me.”

Leo glanced at Cat while Jax took his turn, the slightest smirk on his face. He didn’t have any confirmation that she let Jax win, but then again usually when Cat tried to win something, she won it. He figured that might be the bias he had speaking, because she was in fact his twin, but still, he had definitely seen Cat be far more competitive than she had just been. “The man of the hour.” Leo said dramatically as they walked away from game,“You won’t be able to fit in the room anymore if people keep inflating your ego.” He let out a chuckle at Jax’s comment,“I’m relatively sure you attempted to knock out my teeth the other day during training.”

Laughing gently, Cat smirked gently, slipping her arms through Jax’s and Leo’s she dragged them off to another game, it was Jax’s party and it only made sense to have as much fun as they could. “So man of the hour,” she said with a laugh, “what are you going to thrill us with next.” She giggled further at Leo’s next comment before shrugging. “Are you sure that isn’t every training my dear brother? Although I don’t think there is anyone I would trust anymore to knock out teeth than you Jax, you’ve always been very gifted in that specific area.” She smirked gently and sipped some more at her champagne, all in all it was turning out perfectly. She just hoped that it ended as well as it started.

Jax rolled his eyes at his siblings’ antics yet another time. No doubt they’d be calling him man of the hour for an insufferable amount of time now. Most likely, in sixty years— when it seemed they’d finally forgotten the tease, one of them would whip it out simply to irk him. It was simply what siblings did. As it were, most of the guests had finally arrived, and Jax was certain the time for his toast was coming. He’d already prepared it the week prior, and nerves weren’t much of an issue seeing as his father had made him practice such things practically since he was able to speak. “What’s gotten into you with all these compliments, Cat? I’m beginning to think you might actually like me. And if I tried to knock your teeth out, Leo— it was only because you deserved it. He’d need a drink for the toast, and he’d already finished his champagne. His eyes glanced over the passing trays, trying to find one that would be suitable.

“I think I’d probably look fine without one of my teeth.” Almost like he was testing it, Leo put his tongue over his front tooth, crossing his eyes to attempt to look down at his mouth. “You’d certainly find a reason to knock my tooth at least. Not that Cat would let you hurt her favorite brother, right Cat?” He turned to look at her with what could only be puppy dog eyes. Finished with his own drinks, Leo grabbed himself another flute of champagne and then one for Jax. “One for the nerves. Big toast about yourself and all that,” He teased as he passed it across Cat to Jax.

“I forgot to buy you a present and compliments are the only thing you’re going to be getting this year,” Cat lied. She didn’t even bat an eyelash before nodding. “Whilst I refuse to get drawn into this petty game of favourites,” only because she never won the petty game of favourites with Jefferson, “I would do my best to keep Leo’s front teeth intact. I’d prefer if people didn’t think my twin was a meth addict.” She watched the flute pass from Leo to Jax and couldn’t help but intercept it playfully. “Come now, you both know that if Jax is going to make a toast then he is going to have to do it out of his toasting goblet.” Whilst her tone was sarcastic, the truth was that they indeed had special glasses just for toasts and Jefferson would expect them to be used. Crossing across the room Cat grabbed the goblet and carried it across to him.

Jax sent a somewhat smug smile towards Leo. “You know she has a point, dearest brother. Father would hate it if I used anything but the toasting goblets. And we all know you just live to please him. You’re lucky Cat saved you.” He accepted the cup from Cat with a “Thanks.” Soon enough, Jefferson was clinking the side of his own goblet, and the crowd hushed around them in only moments. It didn’t take long for the senator to silence a crowd. He said only a few words of introduction for Jax, though they were well chosen and praising. In preparation for his toast Jax snuck a decent sized sip of his drink when he was certain no one could see him cheating. He wasn’t entirely sure what Cat had chosen for him, but it didn’t taste bad, simply somewhat foreign. He sneaked another sip to try and identify the flavor, but once again it slipped from him. Jax didn’t want to be caught cheating before his own toast. As he waited for Jefferson to finish, he grew almost unbearably hot all the sudden, and the man of the hour itched idly at a spot on his neck, and then his arm, and then his side. From the outside, one might think he was getting nervous for his speech. But Jax didn’t get nervous. Not for things such as this.

“How horrible it would be to have Daddy dearest be angry with us.” Leo replied a bit dryly. “Thank you, Cat, for saving me from the disappointing looks Father would give me for steering Jax wrong. It would be truly devastating to be at receiving end of a look from Daddy.” Leo, honest to all the gods, could not give less of a damn about what his father thought of him. He knew that if he had been given the choice, Jefferson would have pushed Leo out of the way completely a time ago. He was just waiting for it to happen now. He glanced at Cat, a bit confused, when he saw Jax,“Is he nervous?” His voice was lowered and a bit concerned.

“You make yourself too easy a target.” Cat had to admit she felt somewhat bad over lacing the inside of Jax’s goblet with strawberry powder, but this had been the only way that she could think of poisoning Jax which would allow him to survive. Jax’s strawberry allergy was a closely guarded secret in the family, but both Leo and Cat had experience and would recognise the signs of an anaphylactic shock. Orders from the cult were orders and she wasn’t going to allow anyone else to do this. It had to be her for Jax to stand a chance. Now it was simply a waiting game. She would prompt Leo into action if needs be, but if she acted too early then her superiors in the cult would figure her little game out. She couldn’t risk that, so she had to wait a little longer. “Of course he isn’t nervous, Jax doesn’t get nervous.”

It was coming on fast now, Jax’s allergic reaction to what he assumed could only have been strawberry in the drink Cat had handed him. That was the only thing that could have done this to him. He’d had it happen enough times when he was younger to know the signs, but it had been quite a while since he’d gone through the stages of anaphylactic shock. And suddenly there were about ten different thoughts running through his mind, most of them having to do with Cat and the goblet she had insisted he use. But it was rather difficult to focus on what his sister had most likely done to him when his airway was already closing in on itself, making breathing nigh impossible. In a few more moments he was coughing, a squeaking wheezing sound coming from his as he tried to draw air to no avail. How long had it been since he had a real breath of air? Thirty seconds? Perhaps an entire minute? Already it was beginning to feel like a lifetime. It was taking all he had not to kneel to the ground as the world began to swim. You make yourself too easy a target. Wasn’t that what Cat had just said?

“Well, he looks ner-” Leo’s words were cut off as someone bumped into him, making him turn to right the young woman. His hands went to her arms and he couldn’t help the easy smile that went over his face, even if he was worried about his brother, this girl was very pretty and Leo wanted nothing more than ditch the party with her for a second. Or a few hours. “Hello there, you know if you wanted to talk to me, an introduction is far less dangerous. Though I do like your approach.” His eyebrows went shooting up when he heard a wheeze behind him and he promptly excused himself from that conversation, though not without telling her to find him later. He looked at Cat, a bit panicked now realizing exactly what was going on, he had been at the forefront of many of these situations when they were younger. “Do you have his pen? Is there one here? What did he have? Jax, it’s okay we’ll.. We’ll take care of you don’t worry.” He was talking far faster than he usually did, panic and guilt for not knowing what caused this going over him. It might have been years, but Leo was usually very cautious when it came to what his brother ate. “I’m so sorry, I should have made sure that everything was good for you. Cat, where is the pen?”

That was all the confirmation that Cat needed, as Leo asked for Jax’s pen in front of everyone else, she knew that no one in the cult could doubt her for acting this fast. If anything this was an attempt to hide her involvement. “Shit, Jax,” she said, really selling her surprise and horror at the situation. Springing into action she vaulted over a staircase, ripping her dress in the hurry. Sprinting up the stairs she took a sharp left into the bathroom that was there and rummaged through one of the cupboards. Grabbing the first aid kit that was always stocked with epipens and anapens (because of Jax, Jefferson had insisted), Cat began rifling through the kit as she sprinted back towards her baby brother. Prepping the pen as she ran. She knew that she didn’t have long now but this was the best way to do it. Taking the stairs down three at a time (which for someone with her short legs was really saying something), she skidded to a halt and pushed the pen into Leo’s hands. “You’re stronger than I am,” she wheezed, slightly out of breath, “you’ve gotta save him.”

Jax was only vaguely aware of Cat having left his side, and he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more concerned. After all, he was still fairly certain she was responsible for this. But he couldn’t truly decipher his thoughts as his oxygen deprived brain began to shut down, large black spots making gaping holes in his vision. Somehow he’d still manage to be standing up until this point, but his legs were failing him as the world continued to grow darker. In another moment, he was to his knees, kneeling weakly in the middle of the crowd that seemed to be frozen in shock. Already they were whispering, a single word flowing through them. Poison. Jefferson Karavadra’s golden son had been poisoned. That, along with Cat’s and Leo’s last seemingly frantic words were the last thing he knew before there was complete darkness. And his last thought was that for once, perhaps he’d been a bigger fool than Leo at the party.

Leo grabbed his brother’s shoulders, tightly, trying to lower him down to the floor carefully. He took a few deep breaths when Jax was finally to the ground. His brain was racing with the possibilities of what would happen if Cat couldn’t get back in time. He knew his little brother wasn’t going to die, he couldn’t, he was Jax, he wouldn’t die from a strawberry. Especially because Cat and Leo were there, working together and nothing bad, or at least that bad, could happen if they were all together. Right? Leo couldn’t doubt that at that moment, not when his thoughts were interrupted by Cat. “Make them stop looking,” He hissed at her, as he took the pen. He’d feel bad about that later, but he was too scared in that moment to really care that he was rude to her. With the pen firmly in his hand, Leo stabbed it against his brother’s leg, in the spot he used to when they were younger. He counted to ten in his head, before pulling back the pen. “We should get him out of here.”

Catching Jefferson’s eye as he watched Cat and Leo set about working on Jax, Cat knew better than to ask him for help. Instead, she clapped her hands together and watched as the household guard began moving everyone who wasn’t immediate family from the ballroom and out into the gardens. She was sure they’d set off fireworks or have some sort of entertainment ready to distract everyone from what was happened. Sitting on the floor by Jax, she lifted his head onto her lap and gently ran a finger through his short hair. The truth was that she had done this all to protect Jax, but she was sure that her younger brother wouldn’t see it that way. They would need to talk after all of this, but there was too much going on right now. Family had to come first. At this point she had proved to the cult that she was willing to do anything that they asked, but that was far from the truth. There wasn’t going to be a time where she wasn’t going to stop fighting for her brothers. Even if they didn’t understand why. “Leo, calm down,” she said, placing a palm on his cheek and smiling proudly at him, “Jax is going to be fine and you did amazingly.”

[yourprodigalson-blog]

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Just as he had flattered her, she returned it in kind. It made him a little hot under the collar, to think that she might have been as intrigued as he was, but he couldn’t give in no matter how fiercely he wanted to. The game was half the fun of it, and who was he to call the round before they’d both played their full hands?

He chose not to speak as she responded, studying the curve of her mouth, the glimmer in her eyes, and returning both. Something electric lingered in the air between them—a promise, he was sure, though of what he didn’t know. But the way she spoke, it was like the deal was already done. She seemed surprised at first, but it was a beautiful thing to watch her readjust, paint him into the elaborate mural she had made of her life. Though he could not see its form for himself, he had a feeling that his visage balanced out the composition in a way that was irresistible to a woman like her.

He raised his cup, knocked it against hers firmly, took a sip to seal the toast.

“None would. They’d see us coming and turn tail, or stoop so low as to avoid staining our sight with their presence.”

There was some poisonous pleasure in speaking ill of others; it spread through his veins like ice, sharpening his mind, steeling his spine. Though he’d vowed to be done with that kind of social economy long ago, the feeling of being completely in control over everything and everyone in sight was a high unlike any other. Judging by the sly smile she wore, the glimmer in her eyes, he was certain she felt it too.

As she spoke next, however, in her words lay a challenge, yet another hurdle to clear. She would soon discover that he’d cleared every hurdle set before him thus far. Well, most of them anyway.

“I was once invited to a wealthy socialite’s eighteenth birthday party. I was happy to go, of course. I love a good party, and I’d just gotten a new blue velvet tux that I wanted to show off. So naturally I arrived in style, and I mingled for a bit, and everyone was stunning—I mean, ballgowns and black ties, practically dripping with jewels, just breathtaking. And I remember sitting there, champagne in hand, talking to some girl about her fucking new house or whatever, and I laid eye on this guy in the corner of the room. Face unremarkable, poorly accessorized—nice hair, though. But what really got me about it was his outfit. This joker with the knockoff Cartier was wearing the same fucking tux. I mean, not the exact same one, obviously, since mine was custom tailored, but close enough that an untrained eye might think them the same.

“I realized then that no matter how tantalizing it is to surround yourself with diamonds and rubies and all manner of luxury, at the end of the day, it all shines the same. It becomes just as dull as a day spent in the sordid squalor of an unremarkable life.” He paused for a moment to catch his breath.

“But living in a place like this, when you find a diamond, you won’t be able to tear your goddamn eyes away.”

He sat back and sipped from his coffee then, but he didn’t look away from her once.

“So to answer your question, I suppose you could call me a surveyor. I poke around in all the nooks and crannies, looking for that special shining something to bask in, knowing that no one else will share its light. And, well, I haven’t left yet, have I?”