A DEPENDENT, MULTIMUSE ACCOUNT FOR A CLOSED GROUP; FEATURING:

agatha harkness, aka agatha: america chavez, aka miss america: billy kaplan-altman, aka wiccan: bobbi morse, aka mockingbird:   brunnhilde, aka valkyrie:   carol danvers, aka captain marvel;     daisy johnson, aka quake:   darcy lewis, aka doctor lewis: diana prince, aka wonder woman: dolphin, aka dolphin: donna troy, aka troia: esme cuckoo, aka the stepford cuckoos/three-in-one: felicia hardy, aka black cat: gwen stacy, aka ghost spider:   harleen quinzel, aka harley quinn: joaquin torres, aka falcon:   kara zor-el, aka supergirl: kate bishop, aka hawkeye:   kitty pryde, aka shadowcat: loki laufeydotter, aka lady loki:   lorna dane, aka polaris: natasha romanoff, aka black widow:   ororo munroe, aka storm: peggy carter, aka agent carter: rebecca barnes, aka n/a: scott summers, aka cyclops: sharon carter, aka agent thirteen:   steve rogers, aka nomad:   sue storm-richards, aka the invisible woman: tony stark, aka iron man:

➳

This isn’t exactly an unusual circumstance since his identity is public knowledge after all. Anyone could find out this information if they did the research.  It’s fortunate that Lucky is more than just a family dog, able to protect those he cares about too. His youngest would be safe with the canine but that doesn’t make all of his worries disappear entirely. There’s an entire city filled with villainous personalities waiting to take advantage of the innocent and Clint wouldn’t let anything happen to his children. “Thank you, Lucky is pretty cool. This is my service dog, Misfortune. He goes most places with me.” Obviously doesn’t go on missions but everywhere else is okay within reason.

“The one and only Hawkeye.” It isn’t often Clint is met with someone that knew him though despite the status of his identity. It makes him smile but at the same time it feels although something is missing. His smile fades, memories of losing Piero returns to his mind. How such a carefree soul could be taken so soon is a grief that never quite leaves. “I’m not sorry. Quicksilver died protecting me and the civilian in my arms, so naming my son after him is the least I could do. I wouldn’t be standing here today if Pietro didn’t … ” It’s not going to ever get easier to discuss, is it?

The blond takes a moment to assess the situation, looking at the dog the stranger is petting and realizing how he looks nearly identical to his own. Clint has had enough experience with the multiverse to keep an open mind. “Do you know me where you’re from?” He asks softly while sitting down next to her.

"Lucky is the coolest dog, hands down.” There’s no argument coming from Kate on that matter. Their shared dog is by far the coolest canine she’s ever met and is certain she might ever meet in her lifetime. She lets out a small snort at the name of the other dog, only Clint would name his two dogs with names polar opposites, but she keeps that comment to herself. “Not exactly only Hawkeye.” The words are muttered under her breath so that the man in front of her can’t hear her. It stings, more than it should, but there was always the possibility that she’d ended up somewhere where Clint didn’t know who she was.

“Sorry I didn’t....know.” There’s the confirmation that this isn’t her universe. Pietro Maximoff is alive and kicking and annoying his relatives where she’s from, not dead protecting Clint. She trails off, fingers tangling in her Lucky’s fur. “I’m not from...this universe. I don’t think.” She stares straight ahead, wishing she’d just stayed at home or walked Lucky in literally any other park. Anything to avoid having this exact conversation. “Kate Bishop.” A pause to see if the name rings any bells even though she knows it won’t. “The cooler Hawkeye of my universe. Named after you, or the you of my universe I guess. Basically modeled my whole superhero business after you but it’s fine I can.....find something else.”

How unnatural being on the surface feels. Garth has been coming here since he was just a little boy, hiding behind his father due to his shy behavior in those early years. His physiology prefers being underwater but after being unable to find his Atlantis on his first day here? Garth has felt lost but since his three-year-old son has been attached to his hip since their arrival, he has no time to show his worries. However, Cerdian spots Dolphin first, tugging on his father’s shirt to try pulling him down the street in a hurry. “I promise that I’m following you. What do you see?” He asks softly, staying cautious since this world is full of so much that’s unknown, but when they’re close enough the little feet are sprinting toward the familiar face. “Mama! Me go too!” Little hands reaching up toward her while Garth approaches too. “Dolphin? My love, no amount of words could convey how much I’ve missed you.”

( @underworldtm​ ) The sound of small feet running in her direction is the only warning Dolphin gets before her legs are hit with the force of a small hurricane. It almost topples her over, the only thing keeping her on feet is years of practice being constantly aware of children around you. “Cerdian!” The boy is up in her arms before she’s even aware of it, her face burring itself into her son’s hair. No amount of time on the surface can spoil the scent of home in the little boy curls and there are very few things that could draw her attention from her son in her arms. But Garth will always be that exception. “Out of all the places we’d run into each other again, a completely different one that our own seems like the weirdest place we could have chosen. Don’t you think?” The Atlantian slips out, English still giving her more trouble than it’s worth most days. Humans just don’t have the patience for people like her, those learning a language they didn’t grow up learning. No amount of lessons with Arthur could cure that. “At least we’re finally together again, I’ve missed you both terribly.”

❝ ιт ωαѕ яєαℓ тσ мє ❞                    ❝ 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒 𝓽𝓸𝓸 ❞

Yelena had been here for awhile. She had scoped out the the little cafe a day prior to meeting up with Natasha and then once again this morning. The place is…. charming, she supposes. Photos plastered on the wall of the owner with various Avengers that have walked in that door. She sees the photo of Natasha hanging right next to the world’s precious Iron Man. Hmm, what a world they live it for a Widow to be posed among everyday people. Her eyes flick back as she watches Natasha walk in, coffee already ordered for the both of the them. It steams as it sits on the table and Yelena watches her closely. “I almost didn’t. Consider yourself lucky.” The blonde nods towards the seat across from her. “Yes well… not all of us jumped at the idea of joining another controlling organization again. I’ve kept myself busy, messes have to be cleaned up and loose ends need to be tied.” Yelena leans forward to pick up her own cup of coffee giving it a slow sip. “Why did you want to meet with me, Natalia?” 

"I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t.” There had been a part of Natasha that expect Yelena not to show, to blow her off after years of no contact between them. But there had been a larger part of her that needed this, whatever closure there was going to be between them. “SHIELD wasn’t supposed to be like that. We were trying to help.” That is still a hard thing for her to wrap her head around, leaving the controlling Red Room ad trading it in for another organization that played her like a puppet. Fingers drum on the mug, eyes glancing around the cafe around them. There’s pictures plastered of every famous person that walks in the door and Natasha knows her own is up there. An assassin hidden among the heroes of the world. “I wanted to apologize for never reaching out and finding you. For leaving you to the Red Room when I left. For not going back for you.” Her family is plastered somewhere on these walls but her first family is sitting in front of her. "I have no idea if you kept up with the Avengers or not, but I died. The universe brought me back and I’m still not sure why. If this really is my second chance at living, I wanted to make sure to right the wrongs I didn’t get around to the first time.”

“You should be. I don’t think he’d hesitate to kill anyone but Sam.” Redwing is a great bird, that much is true. But Bucky knows he could cause real damage to just about anyone, him included. So he makes sure that he’s not pissing Redwing off. “You still take it the same way?” The man asks as he struggles for a moment with this stupid coffee maker. He hates that it only makes one cup at a time. But he still manages to start it up. “Oh, how considerate. I’m sure you loved you though…” He snorts turning around to lean back against the counter. “No, no you can’t. I don’t think you can do anything without having an ulterior motive if I’m bein’ honest.” 

( @strawberrysvgar· ) “Just because he hates you, doesn’t mean he doesn’t like other people.” It’s probably a lie, the bird is loyal to Sam to a fault, but Natasha hopes that she can sweet talk her way into the bird’s good graces. Just in case. “Black and bitter like my soul?” She fights off a smirk as he struggles with the coffee maker, a tease of offering to help the elderly with these newfound electronics racing through her mind. “She loved me, but that might just be because I offered to give her all the little dirty details of what you and Sam get into in this apartment of your's. She’s a big fan of the blond that comes to visit you two too.” She sits on top of countertop across from Bucky, folding her legs up underneath her. “That’s mean, James, I’m almost hurt.” She stops for a second, letting fingers drum on her folded legs. “I really did just want to check up on your security. Make sure you and Sam are safe.” 

//

The birdseed rests on the floor for a moment before bending down to pick it up. He moves across the room and leaving it by the rest of his supplies for Redwing. Which includes the gear that he wears when they go on patrol — allowing him to emit a super-sonic screech. The criminals really hate it when that sound fills the room. “What do you have against old ladies? She’s the only other person in this building that Bucky seems to trust so I think we should leave her alone.” He says this with a playful tone to his voice, he takes a seat at the kitchen table after grabbing a beer from the fridge for himself. He opens the bottle and takes a sip while listening to his friend talk. “I’m not too fond of being back in the past but I don’t think you being alive should ever be considered awful. Your feelings on the situation are the most important here though, so …  if you want to talk about it then you can always come talk to me. I’m good at listening.”  His hand places the beverage down on the table, giving Natasha his full attention. He likes to help out his friends but that much is obvious ever since they met.

( @underworldtm​ )"I never said I didn’t like her, just that’s she’s too trusting.” Natasha gives a small smile, the kind that puts people at ease as she slowly follows Sam into his apartment. Her eyes are drifting over everything, noticing the extra security purposes that someone has put into place. It’s more likely the work of James than Sam, but it’s still nice to see that someone cares enough to put them in place. “One bat of an eyelash and someone could know that two Avengers live in this building. Sit with her long enough and she practically buzzes you up and shows your apartment.” It’s a lie, the elderly lady had known who Natasha was before she’d even open her mouth and wouldn’t betray these two like that, but she can tease her friend. “Being back alive is hard, it’s like waiting for the universe to realize I’m not supposed to be here and taking me away again. But I wouldn’t have done anything differently. Clint has kids, a family. It always had to be me.”

STATUS: closed starter for steve rogers

There’s an old black and white photograph in his hands, the imagery is of him standing with his two childhood best friends. Toro is in the middle with this cheesy grin on his face while his arms are wrapped around Steve and Bucky who are on either side of him. This is when they were teenagers before the war and how quickly everything changed. He feels grateful to have this memory. His father gave this photograph to him. He thinks this was before they went to sleep in that haunted house in their neighborhood. Toro smiles and for a moment is so focused on this photo that he doesn’t realize someone is approaching the bench he’s sitting on. There’s no way anyone would still recognize him from all those comic books published about him or the war propaganda that he did, right? The twenties, thirties, and forties were a long time ago. Which is still a strange feeling for him to accept. He can’t wrap his head around any of it yet and being this far into the future makes him feel like all of his accomplishments were only good for history books. “I miss these days.” He finally spoke out loud, mostly to himself, but if anyone else happened to be close enough? They would have heard him too. 

[ @falsegcds​ ]

( @underworldtm​ ) The park is quiet, a nice place to just think. When Steve had first woken up after being in the ice for years, the first thing he’d done was look up all his old friends from before. Jim had sat by his side as he read name after name of those that had gone missing, died, or were still alive. It was his own personal version of hell, outliving most of the people he truly cared about. Losing the small family that had been his saving grace when he was ill and scraping by after his mother’s death. More and more people were slowly trickling in from the past: Bucky, Peggy, but there was always someone missing out of it. And it looked like the universe was finally bringing them back to his life. “What? The having to boil everything or having to miss meals because rent was due?” The questions are playful, tone teasing as he takes in that Toro is sitting in front of him. “I gotta say not having to struggle to breathe properly is a big plus. That and the world not being at war for once.” He stops, glancing down at what he can see of the photo in Toro’s hands. “You always had to be the last one showin up to everything didn’t you?”

This feels serious so Sam is taking off his reading glasses and setting them down on the coffee table. He stands up from the couch … completely abandoning the newspaper in his hands. He folds it up and tosses it down where he had been sitting. Steve has his undivided attention. “You can always talk to me about anything. You know that, so what’s on your mind?” There’s some worry but then his eyes look at the shield in Steve’s hands. He didn’t know what to expect but that question isn’t anywhere close to what came to mind. His hands are suddenly reaching out to slowly take the shield, one of the most important symbols to this country. He begins to gently running his fingers along the vibranium, realizing the wight that will be carried with taking over the mantle. Sam never thought Steve would ever retire but it means a lot to him that he’s trusting him with his legacy. “Steve …  you’re sure?” Redwing is watching intensely from across the room. Eyes finally looking up from staring at the shield in his hands to meet Steve’s. “If you believe in me then I’ll do my best to make you proud while wearing the stars and stripes.” His heart is racing … knowing how much different his life is going to be after today. “It’s an honor to be the new Captain America.” His lips quirk into a smirk. “I can live with those terms.” He holds the shield on his arm now, posing with it for a moment since this will be something he has to get used to doing. “What do you think, Steve?” He already feels like Cap and wonders what brought on all of this but if anyone deserves a break? It’s his best friend. He’s been through so much and he wants nothing more than for him getting a chance to relax. He’ll happily take over the Captain America mantle to make sure that can happen.  

( @underworldtm​ ) The moment the shield leaves Steve’s hand it’s like a weight has lifted off his shoulders. While being Cap has been one of the best things that’s ever happened to him, giving him a purpose in his life to finally be able to help people like he wanted. He’s spent more time having the weight of the mantle, of being the person everyone looks for when things go wrong, that it’s like he’s forgotten how to just be. He can feel the concern radiating off Sam, Redwing’s eyes digging holes into his back where they fall on his back. “100%, there’s nobody better for the job.” There’s a part of him that feels selfish, pushing all of his responsibilities on to Sam. But there’s literally nobody else Steve would rather seeing holding that shield. “And if anybody tries giving you slack for being the new Captain America, you can always call the old one to beat them up for you.” It’s more than a tease, he’s not an idiot. Sam doesn’t need his protecting but Steve also knows how the world is right now. They say that life’s gotten a lot better since he came out of the ice but all he sees when he looks around is the same sort of people in power and the same sort of people being bullied for things they can’t control. But punching people in the face is something Steve’s always been good at. The sight of Sam with the shield on his arm is something he could get very used to. “Is it weird to say I have a crush on Captain America now? Asking for a friend.” It looks good on Sam, looks right. Like the suit was just Steve’s until it was time to pass it on to the right person. A sudden laugh leaves Steve, remembering words from what seems like ages ago. “You’re keeping the suit right?”

( @roseblushfm· ) Sure, newspapers were outdated or so every one keeps saying. Bucky can still find one on just about every street in New York. So Bucky is pretty damn sure those people have just never seen a New York street before. “When did you start keeping your sketchbook in a different place?” Bucky asks, idly. He closed the paper to turn the page as he speaks. Bucky reads over the local wanted ads, he remembers looking at these ads like it was part of his religion. He’d look for any job that it seemed like Steve could do. Most of the time it was bagging groceries or handing out flyers. It seems like the job offerings in the paper are one of the few things that haven’t changed in over eighty years. Grocery stores are still looking for cashiers. “You don’t keep it under your pillow anymore.” Bucky teases, grinning a bit as he peeks over the paper to catch a glance at Steve.

Steve’s been doodling on a piece of napkin for what seems like hours, pen idly moving against the paper while his attention is on the city outside the window. Brooklyn’s changed so much since he was a kid, decades of change bleeding through the very heart of the city. But at it’s core, the city seems the same. “Since Ma found it during when I was trying to learn how to draw bodies. Learn to keep it hidden real quick after that.” He leaves out the fact that had been when most of his sketches had also been mostly Bucky; the time when he was certain his mother had caught on to the crush he’d carried around for his best friends. But she hadn’t ever said anything. “Old age must be messin’ with your head, I haven’t kept it under my pillow in ages.” The pen falls from his fingertips, doodles forgotten about as he gives Bucky his full attention. “Especially since someone keeps checkin’ under there for things they aren’t supposed to be lookin’ for.”

It felt like a good idea at the time to take his youngest to the park. Nathaniel insisted on holding Lucky’s leash while they walk toward the playground. His two teenagers were out with friends this evening so Clint thought that getting out of their house would be the best idea. No missions, just spending time with his family for the next couple of days. His eight-year-old seemingly accidentally let go of the leash for one second and Lucky went running. The child followed, foolishly thinking that he could get the dog back before his father noticed. The only detail that Nate didn’t think about is that Clint is a shield agent.

He ran fast as possible in the direction that his boy went, his service dog following closely behind him. When the blond archer finally catches up Nate is hugging Lucky in front of the woman. “Nathaniel Pietro Barton! You can’t run off and scare daddy like that.” He looks from his son and over to the stranger sitting on the bench. “I’m sorry about all of this. He let go of our dog’s leash.”

If Kate hadn’t known was in a different universe completely beforehand, the sight of a younger boy being chased down by Clint of all people and the mention of Clint being the boy’s father would have been the thing that would have done it. "It’s okay, your dog is cool.” Her smile is fake, one that she perfected over the years dealing with her real father. It hides the hurt that this Clint has no idea who she is. If there was one constant in her life, it was Clint Barton always being by her side. Her own Lucky notices the change in the atmosphere, noticing his owner’s pain and running over to comfort her. It’s a quick sign of heel followed by a sit, and the dog is calmly by her side. 

“You’re Clint Barton right?” The question’s out before she can really stop it, a need to know if her hunch is right. Barton could be a perfectly common name and Kate’s freaking out over nothing. There’s a very slim chance that’s the case, with the way the universe seems to hate her. “Though Pietro? I feel sorry that your kid got named after Quicksilver of all heroes.” She has met the man a couple of times the Young Avengers have teamed up with other teams, knowing him more as Billy and Tommy’s weird uncle more than anything else so there isn’t much fire behind her words. Her hand finds her own Lucky’s ears, letting the motion of petting him calm the overwhelming sense that this is going to hurt.