M O R G A N - S T A R K

..

@thephoenixstart​

“ Oh don’t you dare throw that on me. i swear to god i’ll-” Felicia was cut off as a splash of paint was thrown her way.

Her ice-white hair was covered in red paint and her left cheek was too. she was left fuming for a few seconds before getting the idea to retaliate.

With a shit-eating grin on her face, she picked up a paintbrush of her own that was covered in yellow paint and flung towards the other.

..

distracted,  he  doesn’t  make  direct  eye  contact  straight  away.  “  yep,  that’s  me.  no  autographs  today,  kid.  i’m  off  the  clock. ”   the  words  are  an  automatic  response,  eyes  still  scanning  the  room  in  search  of  other  avengers.  in  theory,  it’ll  only  have  been  a matter  of  seconds  that  he’s  gone  in  their  timeline  —  regardless  of  how  delayed  he  ends  up  here  —  but  the  whole  fate  of  the  world  resting  on  his  shoulders  thing  likes  to  play  itself  out  with  urgency.   at  the  comment  about  his  work,  he  does  turn  his  head…  only  to  get  hit  by  a  dizzying  wave  of  deja-vu.   he  can’t  figure  out  why,  exactly,  he  feels  like  he  knows  her  but  he  does.  “  comes  with  the  territory. ”   he  answers,  tone  contemplative  as  he  tilts  his  head.   there’s  just  something  he  can’t  put  his  finger  on  and  he’s  never  been  one  to  walk  away  from  an  unsolved  equation.    “  sorry,  but,  have  we  met  ?   call  me  crazy  but  there’s  something  and  i  just  can’t  place  it. ”   he  snaps  his  fingers,  brow  furrowed.   “  wait,  let  me  guess.  stark  industries  intern.   no,  that’s  not  it. ”   he  squints.   “  one  of  peter’s  friends?  c’mon  kid,  help  me  out  here. ”

...

she’d  be  lying  if  she  said  there  wasn’t  an  A M U S I N G  sentiment  to  his  words:  calculating  a  million  ways  to  find  an  escape  route  that  meant  not  having  to  be  honest,  seemed  to  be  crumbling  by  the  second.  it’s  hard  when  she’s  honest  about  her  motives -- that  it  might  just  be  a  tad  harder  for  her  to  digress  into  a  relationship  she’ll  have  to  say  goodbye  to  (  another painful goodbye, except this time she’s not four and her dad doesn’t feel an arms length away  ).  “ I promise not to drag out the pen and paper. ”  she  wants  to  chuckle  at  that,  find  some  humor  that  makes  the  sentiment  of  bleeding  out  in  such  tired  ways  nothing  more  than  a  glistening  metaphor  for  who  she  is  but  it’s  a  battle  she’s  losing. SHE’S  NO  HERO  YET,  no  matter  how  hard  she  tries:  merely  a  broken  child  trying  to  build  something  that  shield’s  her  from  any  further  torment.  so  she  decides  to  be  earnest,  worst  case  scenario...he  decides  she’s  a  liar  or  crazy,  except --  that’s  not  the  dad  she  remembers.  nor  the  tony  stark  the  world  knew.  “ actually, ”  there’s  a  hint  of  hesitance  in  her  words.  “ you were pretty close with stark intern -- except the intern part is a big no...unless I was born into some deal I haven’t learnt about yet.  in which case, hell no to carrying your coffee...dad. ”

grab  the  infinity  stones  from  their  original  timelines,  they  said.   it’ll  be  easy,  they  said.  except  they  clearly  never  factored  LOKI  CIRCA  2012  making  a  grab  for  the  tesseract  and  taking  it  and  the  stone  god  knows  where  into  the  equation.  from  there,  he’d  somehow  landed  here  in  2020  instead  of  the  70′s  like  he’d  planned.   no  tesseract,  no  capsicle,  and  no  more  particles  to  get  back  to  the  group.   he  was  lost  in  time.   great,  just  great;   further  reason  why  he  should  have  stayed  home  and  left  the  hero-ing  to  people  who  had  less  to  lose.

what  he  has  noticed  however  is  that  this  2020  is  nothing  like  the  2022  he  left  behind.  for  starters,  there’s  no  snap;   no  support  group  ads  on  park  benches,  or  abandoned  buildings  with  foreclosure  signs  and  missing  posters  on  telephone  poles.   everything’s…  normal.   like  the  snap  never  happened.   like  THANOS  never  happened.   he’s  not  sure  what  to  make  of  it  but  he  knows  it’s  not  real;   his  life,   his  family,  are  back  home  and  he  can’t  get  sucked  into  some  alternate  timeline  just  because  he  accidentally  stumbled  into  it.   

he  hears  about  the  masquerade  party  by  accident,  overheard  in  a  coffee  shop  where  he’s  hacking  into  the  wifi  to  try  and  boost  the  range  on  his  suit.   he  doesn’t  want  to  meet  another  version  of  himself  but  he’s  not  above  taking  advantage  of  his  own  tech.  finders  keepers…  besides,  you  can’t  steal  from  yourself.   someone  named  pym’s  on  the  guest  list  which  means  he’s  tony’s  best  chance  at  getting  his  hands  on  more  particles.   the  party’s  just  an  added  bonus.    clad  in  the  best  suit  the  cash  he  had  on  hand  can  buy  and  some  cheap  jester-style  mask,  he  moves  through  the  room  looking  for  familiar  faces.   he’s  looking  for  pym  but  alternate  versions  of  any  of  his  fellow  avengers  would  be  helpful  right  about  now.     @thephoenixstart​

...

displacement  sometimes  offers  itself  in   D U A L I T Y  seeping  through  open  wounds:  margins  of  contradictions —-  of  wanting  to  stay  and  wanting  to  return  in  formal  unison  as  if  she’d  become  nothing  more  than  engineered  pieces  clinging  to  the  technology  she  had  at  hand  (  she doesn’t deny the idea that she has reasons to stay..to never return to a place where she feels empty and hollow but she’s cursed with morality -- with the vicious cycle of thoughts regarding what she’d left behind there ). she’s  not  blind,  would  argue  she’d  been  here  too  long.  that  she  wanted  proof  she  should  go;  reasons  to  not  keep  fighting  fate  because  SHE  WASN’T  SELFISH. 

what  offers  pause?  memories.  a  face  she’d  known  for  such  a  small  fraction  of  her  life,  sealed  in  embedded  scars.  she  remembers  the  first  few  years  after  his  sacrifice:  how  sad  her  mother  was.  how  she’d  hide  away  in  the  garage  because  it  was  the  closest  SEMBLANCE  of  the  father  she’d  lost —-  it  was  the  reason  she  opened  her  first  book  on  mechanics.  the  reason  she  buried  herself  so  deep  in  everything  he’d  been  known  for  because  it’d  been  all  she  had  left  (  i love you 3000 scribed into metal because no one could fill that void  ).  she  doesn’t  stare  for  long,  finds  her  throat  dry  with  the  nerves  that  swallow  her  whole  but  she’s  trying.  she’s  smiling  because  she  wants  to  be  ignorant  to  how  hard  this  is:  to  the  blistering  source  she  can  feel  stinging  her  heart. when  she  swallows  back  the  idea  of  being  honest  it’s  not  to  spare  herself  but  HIM. “ you’re the famous tony stark. ”  it  feels  strange -- that  string  of  words  tethered  to  something  real.  she’s  not  used  to  it  but  it’s  strangely  comforting. “ sorry...- i’m just a fan of your work but I figure you get that a lot? ”

It feels strange turning another year older and Hayden doesn’t know how to feel about it just yet. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, leaving a bittersweet feeling in his gut as he’s TWENTY now. This is meant to be a party though so maybe it’s not the time to have an existential crisis. He pushes some hair out of his face, going without the illusion that disguises his real appearance for once. It’s his day so that opens up to being more confident of showing off his horns. Hayden notices someone approaching him and flashes a smile as they grow closer. “I’m so old now! Weird, huh?“

[ @thephoenixstart​ ]

..

his  blood  should  probably  run  cold  as  her  words  sink  in.  i’ve  gotten  really  good  at  reading  you.   he  likes  to  keep  people  at  a  distance,  put  up  walls  for  his  walls  to  keep  people  out,  but  somehow  morgan’s  always  been  good  at  taking  them  down  before  he  even  notices.   every  empty  to  push  her  away,  she’s  somehow  only  managed  to  get  closer.   he  has  to  give  credit  where  credit’s  due;  the  girl  from  the  future  sure  knows  how  to  brighten  up  his  present.   

“  D.  none  of  the  above. ”   he  answers  with  a  sly  smirk,  aiming  for  cavalier  to  hide  the  way  his  pulse  drums  and  his  heart  rate  speeds  up.   “  lucky  guess. ”    he  rises  to  his  feet,  reclaiming  his  gun  from  where  it  had  gotten  knocked  out  of  his  hand  earlier  in  the  fight.  “  you  know,  this  is  usually  where  i’d  say  i’m   F  I  N  E   with  what  i’ve  got,  but  i  took  your  iron  maiden  suit  for  a  ride  when  i  was  you  and  … ”   he  whistles.   “  yeah,   i  want  one  of  those.   IRON  RED  HOOD’S  GOT  A  NICE  RING  TO  IT.  ”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

there’s  not  much  about  the  past  that  was  I M P O R T A N T  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things:  the  limited  number  of  people  that  mattered  tended  to  make  her  feel  like  she’d  swallowed  a  bomb —-  waiting  for  the  inevitable  explosion  was  crushing  but  in  hindsight  needed  (  he however didn’t seem to dig that dagger in further; there wasn’t expectation or frankly the fear that she held around others. that much she was really thankful for  ). 

“ sure, we’ll go with that. ” it  did  elicit  a  genuine  laugh.  maybe  the  smile  is  enough  to  suggest  that  she’s  not  looking  into  things  too  much...just  trying  to  live  in  the  moment. “ definitely saves on the reloading time, that can be a real bitch in the middle of a fight... ”  a  simple  brow  raises  follows,  something  that  speaks  to  her  horror  at  iron  red  hood  though  admittedly  it  doesn’t  sound  all  that  bad.  “ the iron part can be put into consideration but the way I see it, we both win; a suit I build is more likely to protect you more than the material you wear now. ” 

he  hits  the  ground  hard,  helmet  scraping  against  the  pavement  as  he  goes.  it’s  fine  though,  even  as  he  tastes  blood  and  sees  his  vision  swim.  it  would  take  more  than  a  minor  head  injury  to  keep  him  down.  a  kick  to  the  solar-plexus,  followed  by  a  leg-chokehold  that  he  absolutelylearned  by  watching  the  black  widow  do  it  on  a  grainy  youtube  video,  keeps  his  assailant  down  for  the  count.  easy  peasy,  lemon  squeasy.   he  takes  the  helmet  off  so  he  can  spit  blood,  running  his  tongue  along  the  inside  of  his  mouth;  he  must  have  bitten  it  when  he  went  down  the  first  time.   or  maybe  the  second  time.    it’s  not  like  he  was  counting.   

he  hears  gravel  crunching  behind  him  but  he  makes  no  move  to  put  his  helmet  back  on.  tucked  under  his  arm,  weapons  concealed,  you’d  only  see  him  as  the  red  hood  if  you  knew  what  you  were  looking  for.    &   if  they  recognized  JASON?   it’s been  months.   maybe  it’s  time  he  threw  himself  a  ‘ welcome  back  from  the  dead ’  party.    “  i’ll  save  you  some  trouble. ”   he  chirps,  turning  towards  the  newcomer.   “  i’m  fine,  he’s  fine,  and  you  have  impeccable  timing. ”   @thephoenixstart​

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

there’s  perhaps  a   C O N C E R N   to  be  had  regarding  the  manner  in  which  she’s  become  more  susceptible  to  accepting  her  own  injuries:  that  overbearing  idea  that  being  a  HERO  requires  pain  and  sacrifice —-  that  much  she  knows  TOO  well  (  clad iron in final battles and she’d never quite been the same since...or maybe she needed the affect, to know that parental sacrifice had meant something  ).  what  she’s  not  used  to  however  is  the  plights  that  seem  to  have  an  UNWAVERING  target  set  on  his  back;  trouble  seems  to  find  him  and  when  that  fails?  HE  FINDS  TROUBLE  HIMSELF. 

“ you know... ”  she  gives  a  quick  raise  of  her  brow,  a  centered  glance  toward  the  situation  at  large.  “ you’re a terrible liar —- or, I’ve gotten really good at reading you. ”  she’d  take  to  accepting  a  little  of  both,  that  maybe  she  wanted  to  see  the  truth  of  the  matter  more  often  than  she  cared  to  admit.  “ I could, probably, fix you up a new suit: one that doesn’t get so busted up if you wanna finish up...whatever this is. ” 

( @thephoenixstart​ )

Soft echos of Laura’s voice whispering ‘daddy’ calls his mind back from the void. His eyes snap open as a deep breath fills his lungs, giving the muscles a long overdue stretch. His eyes quickly shift back and forth before a loud grunt emits from his mouth as he gets to his feet. Logan soon came to the realization that he was alive once again and he was confused and angry. Every action and word was dripping with tension and agitation. He began looking himself over the best he could in that moment. Brushing the dirt from the front of his shirt. “What the fuck?” Next noticing just how young his skin looked, particularly his hands. Raising his fists to eye level and taking a moment to stare at them with hate and distrust before extending his claws effortlessly and without the increased pain. A subtle creek in the floor board behind him alerted his attention to the presence of another person. Logan growls loudly as he faced the other, claws ready for the attack. “Who the fuck are you and what do you want?!”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

New in Town

Steve remembered somethings. He remembered saying goodbye. He remembers getting in the plane, looking back, thinking of her as he pulled the trigger. He remembered a flash of bright light, but no heat. And then…he remembered nothing.  He opened his eyes, and his muscles were sore. He saw some strange cars go by and a man yelling something further down the busiest street he had ever seen. The colors and flashing lights of every advertisement seemed to burrow their way into his eyes, and he instantly had a headache, or he had already had one.  “I really hope this isn’t heaven.”  He heard someone say something, but he couldn’t make it out over the sounds of traffic and music.  “I’m sorry?” 

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

there’s blood on her white turtleneck. jessica knows this, and she knows that it’s peeking out from under her coat. she also knows it looks worse than it is - a lot worse - but she took the subway anyways. it’s been a long time since she stopped caring about the looks she gets on public transport. she can feel the wet patch on the collar of the shirt, and worst of all, she can smell it, metallic and salty. she scrunches her nose and struggles to breathe through her mouth. then her eyes set on someone - watching her, staring maybe. her gaze morphs into an angry sort of squint. “something the matter?” she asks, leaning back in her seat. she crosses one leg over the other. “i know - i need seltzer. i’ll get some as soon as i can. or was there something else you needed?” [ @thephoenixstart ]

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

This week couldn’t get any stranger as some people woke up to find that they swapped bodies with someone else. His father being one of those people so Peter happily decides to look after his little brother until everything works itself out. Harley is only seven-years-old  and has a bedroom of his own in the apartment even. He spends the night so often that it felt right for Peter to let him have the guest room — which has been slowly decorated over time to his liking by the boy.

Peter wonders how long their father will be stuck in Steve’s body but they’re making the best out of it. They’re currently walking through Central Park actually after getting some lunch. Harley brought his potato gun with him and fires it at someone thinking it was kind of amusing. “I almost got ‘em, Pete!” His brother announces while looking up with a proud look on his face. Peter however ruffles the golden hair fondly before turning to the other person and glancing at the crushed potato by their feet. “I’m sorry, uh, too much sugar, you know?”

[ @thephoenixstart​ ]

...

           something  akin  to   I R O N Y   seemed  to  be  staring  her  in  the  face:  she  liked  to  imagine  she  was  well  endowed  with  walking  a  mile  in  the  shoes  of  the  people  around  her  (  granted, she’d never quite expected the matter to hit her in a literal sense  ).  she’s  careful  —-  presumes  this  is  the  most  care  jason's  body  has  received  in  a  long  time;  she’d  continue  to  make  an  effort  to  keep  it  well  hydrated  and  fed,  until  whatever  had  gone  awry,  switched  them  back...call  her  PROTECTIVE  of  the  people  she  cared  about  (  she’d hardly deny it  ). 

Kate could get where Morgan was coming from. She had a lot of pent up issues too, mainly ones that she didn’t feel like she could talk about. When you got into fights, those kinds of emotions could just take over and make you fight harder than you normally would, but it was important to know where the line was. Kate was sure that Morgan knew where that line was. She just didn’t know if Morgan would always be able to stop herself from crossing. “Are you okay?” she asked, not sure if they should be continuing here or not. Morgan was a new recruit to the Young Avengers, and Kate didn’t want to push her into too much at once. She looked at Morgan’s hand as she opened and closed it. “Is your hand okay?”

--

she’s  aware  of  where  lines  could  blur:  become   C O M P L I C A T E D   because  she  wasn’t  someone  drenched  in  fighting  without  reason  or  feeling  like  a  bird  flying  to  warmer  places  had  become  a  HABIT  —-  a  means  of  surviving  in  a  way  that  was  greater  than  herself  (  she’s aware of the issue with that: that it wasn’t healthy  ).  “ yeah, guess I just went a little too hard on that last guy. ”  the  pain  isn’t  hard  to  function  with  though  her  tone  seems  woven  in  the  pain  she  feels:  something  she’s  certain  she’ll  have  to  train  herself  to  be  able  to  hide.  a  small  smile  peeking  behind  a  pained  gaze.  “ got two hands —- I got this...you trust me, right? ”  she’s  trying  to  make  sure  that  she  fits,  that  she’s  not  forcing  herself  into  a  role  out  of  some  hazy  attempt  at  filling  a  shadow.  

his  apartment’s  a  disaster.  take-away  containers  litter  the  counter  space,  guns,  ammo,  and  extra  mags  have  taken  up  permanent  residence  on  his  kitchen  table,  and  he’s  currently  sprawled  out  on  the  floor  as  his  chest  rises  and  falls  erratically.  he  came  in  through  the  window,  no  time  to  unmask  and  take  the  stairs  like  he  normally  does  given  he’s  currently  in  the  process  of  bleeding  out.  

alright,  so  maybe  that’s  not  entirely  true.   it’s  probably  a  scratch,  nothing  a  few  stitches  won’t  take  care  of,  but  he  can  feel  it  pulling  when  he  rolls  his  shoulder  so  he  knows  it’s  not  great.  (   it  requires  more  care  than  haphazardly  stripping  his  gear  off  without  any  consideration,  that’s  for  sure.  )   he’s  managed  to  get  the  jacket  off,  suit  underneath  shoved  down  to  his  waist  to  give  him  better  access.   his  phone’s  working  as  a  makeshift  mirror,  camera  angled  over  his  shoulder  to  see  the  damage.   it’s  jagged  and  messy,  probably  from  a  hunting  knife  if  he  had  to  guess.   it’s  bound  to  leave  an  ugly  scar.  

by  the  time  he  hears  morgan  pushing  the  door  open  to  his  apartment  —  which,  given  the  shitty  part  of  town  he  lives  in,  he  should  probablystart  locking  —  he’s  trying  to  stitch  himself  up  sloppily  with  his  non-dominant  hand.   he  freezes  like  a  deer  in  headlights,  eyes  scanning  over  to  her  as  he  searches  for  an  explanation.   when  nothing  good  springs  to  mind,  he  makes  the  decision  to  just  act  like  everything’s  normal.   which,  technically,  it  is.   “  nah,  you’re  good.  i’m  always  hungry. ”   he  flashes  her  a  trademark  smirk,  tossing  the  needle  down  onto  the  table  to  be  fought  with  later.   he’s  not  in  immediate  danger  of  bleeding  to  death,  so  taking  ten  to  eat  won’t  kill  him.   probably.   (  in  retrospect,  it’s  probably  not  normal  how  casually  he  views  the  subject  of  his  own  mortality.   dying  and  coming  back  really  fucks  with  a  person.  )

                                                                           she  has  her  own  fair  share  of  scars;  something  about  the  task  of  partaking  in  any  lifestyle  that  required  fighting  came  with  a   C O N S I D E R A B L E   risk  —-  she  wasn’t  about  to  doubt  that  much  (  she was the kid of someone that spoke for the lengths that risk meant  ).  granted  her  biggest  scar,  that  happened  to  sit  by  her  thumb,  was  one  caused  by  nothing  more  than  an  accident:  the  slip  of  a  powertool.  so,  maybe  all  she  could  speak  for  was  the  perplexing  idea  of  danger,  she’d  hardly  hit  deep  waters  as  far  as  that  went.  maybe  a  good  thing  too,  given  she  wasn’t  sure  her  dad  needed  that  right  now  BUT  she  wasn’t  unaware  or  OBLIVIOUS. 

                                        it’s  her  eyes  that  fade  to  concern  first;  the  first  features  to  be  touched  by  emotion  in  any  situation  because  she’d  never  have  control  over  those.  NEVER  FIND  A  REASON  TO  HIDE  BEHIND  A  GAZE —-  she  bled  earnesty.  “ yeah —- being stabbed must really work up a hunger. ”  her  words  aren’t  harsh  more  so  perturbed  and  quiet  like  an  attempt  to  null  the  situation  in  her  own  mind  because  she  didn’t  emplore  an  enjoyment  for  others  getting  hurt...even  more  so  those  she  knew.  “ how about a deal? ”  she’s  already  aware  it  speaks  his  language,  that  he  might  not  ask  her  to  do  it  otherwise  and  she’s  not  sure  she’d  feel  comfortable  leaving  him  to  do  a  fucked  up  job  of  closing  a  wound.  “ you eat and i’ll finish what you started. ”  hands  already  moving  to  attempt  to  turn  him  again,  look  at  the  wound  so  she  could  assess  the  best  way  forward;  she  wasn’t  good  at  doing  this  without  some  mapped  out  plan  (  the engineer in her needed one  ). 

“ this  …  was  NOT  what  i  had  in  mind. ”   bucky’s  tone’s  wry,  toying  over  the  material  in  his  hands  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  and  a  laugh  caught  in  the  back  of  his  throat.   “  you’re  sure  this  is  all  you’ve  got  ? ”   it  was  supposed  to  be  a  gag-gift  for  steve,  a  little  something  to  go  along  with  the  freshly  baked  apple  pie,  but  he’s  not  sure  how  funny  a  red,  white,  and  blue,  bikini  is.   “  —  i  guess  this  is  what  i  get  for  last  minute  shopping. ”  

        and  they  say  never  meet  your heroes:  she   A L M O S T   understands  that  sentiment  in  this  moment  —-  something  almost  ADVERSE  about  seeing  them  in  person,  let  alone  in  situations  she’d  rather  bleach  from  her  mind  (  not to say she didn’t appreciate the lengths people would go to for love  ).  “ of all the things i’m gonna remember —- I wish this didn’t have to be one of them. ”  her  tone  is  soft,  she’s  not   been  around  the  rest  of  them  too  much;  she’d  argue  it’s  her  attempt  to  not  betray  whatever  her  dad  was  going  through  but  it  also  came  down  to  sheer  FEAR  (  was she deserving of it? she wasn’t sure  ).  “ were they out of shields? ”

      there’s  something   E L U S I V E   in  the  way  she  had  paused:  likely  condensed  in  concern  regarding  that  at  least  one  of  her  fingers  were  broken  from  punching  the  guy  that  now  remained  situated  on  the  ground  (  she wasn’t good at control or certainly not controlling her aversion to shitty people  ).  letting  her  breathing  calm  down,  she   finds  herself  with  a  softer  smile  —-  a  glow  from  more  than  her  present  exertion  of  energy.  “ sorry, my bad... ”  she  allows  her  smile  to  waver,  expecting  that  this  isn’t  the  first  or  last  time  she’ll  have  to  apologise  for  doing  this:  that  she’ll  apologise  regardless  because  she’s  not  sure  ANYONE  deserves  to  struggle  because  of  people  who  want  to  play  handsy  for  a  little  extra  cash.  “ you were saying? —-  or you weren’t? ”  she’s  trying  to  open  and  close  he r hand,  some  smart  measure  to  assess  the  amount  of  damage;  it’s  a  COMFORTING  reminder  that  she’s  doing  something  helpful  (  not that she’d be looking forward to her dad’s words regarding her present condition  ).