[ clean up ] for the POSTER’S MUSE to help the SENDER’S MUSE clean up their outfit after a spill. // @goldenavcnger

Stark was drunk again. Miguel could see it from across the shocking room, could recognize it as easily as his own reflection in the goddamn mirror. Stark was drunk again, and it had only been a month or so since Miguel sat next to him on his couch with a bottle between them sucking all the air from the room, since they talked about their fathers and their failed attempts at engagement, since Miguel understood that he and Tony Stark had a big, glaring, neon sign of a similarity between them, an arrow with a word both of them would probably rather ignore. It had only been a month or so, and Miguel’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking since, and Stark was drunk again, had probably been drunk the whole time, would probably be drunk tomorrow and the day after.

And Miguel approached him anyways. 

He could practically hear Gabri’s voice screaming in the back of his head, practically hear, if you keep setting yourself up for failure, Miggy, you’re gonna find it eventually. And I think you want it, I really do. I think you’ve been looking for an excuse ever since you hopped back on the wagon. Addicts hanging out with other addicts, he’d learned, was a slippery slope that got harder to navigate when only one half of the equation was trying to stay clean while the other was in the height of it. He wasn’t sure if this was him looking for an excuse to fall or if it was the same need for danger that prompted him to put on a UMF suit and swing through a city that wanted him exterminated the minute he’d had the opportunity, but whatever it was, it was hard to deny. Stark was drunk again and Miguel was fighting the urge to join him harder than he normally had to and his hands were still shaking and his mouth was still dry and he approached him anyway.

“Don’t think spilling expensive scotch on an expensive suit actually improves the cost of either,” he commented, handing over a stack of napkins. “Doesn’t really follow the two negatives canceling each other out rule.”

[ text ] why are you looking at your phone! go talk to people // @goldenavcnger

(✉️ ➡️ Tony): You’re texting me! I’m looking at my phone because you’re texting me. [...] (✉️ ➡️ Tony): Okay, I was looking at my phone before you texted me. (✉️ ➡️ Tony): I’m bad at these things, Tony! And I don’t know where Colleen went. And Ward didn’t even /come!/ Everybody keeps asking me questions, and I hate questions. Questions suck!

i had a tape recorder. i poked and prodded. 

@goldenavcnger

Daisy was waiting for Carol to come back with a status update --- to tell her she was in the clear and could show her face in public without casually starting a war over a million dollars... but Daisy still had people she could talk to that wouldn’t turn her in And among those unswayed by money, was Tony Stark. But when she showed up, in the middle of the night, at an undisclosed location (she was still trying to be careful --- and by the way Tony had spoken, she was sure that they needed privacy). 

But then he spoke and Daisy felt a little dizzy. She turned towards him, hands on her hips, but she wasn’t looking at him, not yet. Her eyes were on the ground as she tried to process what he was saying. A tape recorder? Why would he --- why did he need that? “Tony,” she started in a breathless way, her eyes finally coming up to look him in the eyes. “I just accepted a spot in the second chance initiative, Carol Danvers runs it, I’m ---” trying to go straight? Trying to do the right thing? But a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. Doubt was too easily found. “Tell me I didn’t make a mistake.” 

@goldenavcnger

The world kept rotating. That was the beautiful thing about it, that no matter what happened, the world kept turning and tomorrow always came. One morning, MJ woke up and went on her day as if it was any other. But then there was one notification on her phone and then a hundred more and then phone calls. People calling Tony for a statement --- did he knowingly employ Spider-Man at Stark Industries? And then the questions turned on her. How long had Peter been Spider-Man? How long had she known? Was that why he was all over her Instagram? Could she get them an interview with him?

Her head was throbbing but that wasn’t even the worst part of it. The worst part of it was that while MJ had known for years, she was still taken by surprise when it all came out. The shock that came with it being real. She knew Peter Parker was Spider-Man, but seeing him unmasked like that, it being thrown to the world --- having to say it made it all real. And all the panic and fear and worry she had been feeling over the years was suddenly loud and roaring in her heart. It was suddenly all real and MJ was feeling it all like it was fresh. 

The phone rang again and, without thinking, MJ pulled out the phone cord and pushed the phone into the trash. And as it clattered inside, MJ brought her hands to her face, only to catch a glimpse of Tony. “Hey,” she said, dragging her hands down her face before putting on a smile. That was what everyone expected from her, to act like nothing touched her, that this didn’t bother her, that she wasn’t panicking that her best friend was a superhero and he was just outed in the worst sort of way. 

“Ross asked to speak with you. He wants a face to face,” MJ said with a sort of cheer that almost made it sound like good thing. (But they both knew she wasn’t a fan.) “Miss Everhart called three times since I’ve shown up and she has gone from wanting a statement from you to asking if I fucked Spider-Man, so...” She shook her head and looked around her desk for a moment. She had a pillow that had disappeared after one of Tali’s visits and it had been a therapy pillow --- one that she screamed into when Tony did something unbelievably stupid that she needed to fix and she needed it now... but she couldn’t find it.

“You, uh, you don’t have anything in the lab that needs destroying do you? I... I really need to break something.” 

@goldenavcnger

There were some things, some moments that turned the whole damn world upside down.

They were the big things, the ones you couldn’t ignore. They were your father being shot while your screams for help went ignored. They were your mother bleeding out on the doorstep of your apartment building, so close to safety that you had to walk through the bloodstains to get to your front stoop for months after it was over. They were the man you loved slipping through your fingers and falling onto the sand, your friend dying behind enemy lines while you floated away as dust on the wind, the man you would have followed anywhere choosing not to give you the option, the woman who was slowly starting to heal the broken pieces of you dying cold and alone on a planet lightyears from home. 

They were moments like Tony Stark snapping his fingers and dying in the process. 

Those moments changed the world. They took it from one thing, and they made it into something else. Sam wanted to say they made it into something worse, because the world felt so much emptier without those people in it, but he knew that wasn’t entirely fair to them. His father left behind a legacy that made Harlem better, his mother left behind children who grew to be strong and independent. Riley, Sharon, Nat, and Tony all died for something, all believed in something so much that they let it carry them away. Steve got to live a whole life, and he’d always deserved that. Those moments changed the world, and it wasn’t fair to say they changed it for the worse but Sam couldn’t pretend they changed it for the better, either. Some change wasn’t good or bad. It was just hard. 

And then sometimes, you fell through a wormhole to a universe where some of those changes had been undone, and the world turned upside down all over again in a whole new way.

Like, for example, Tony Stark being still alive and simultaneously somehow broke. Both facts were very hard for Sam to wrap his head around.

“I thought you’d look worse,” he greeted, approaching Tony and looking him over with a critical gaze. “How much does your body wash cost? I wanna know if you’re gonna start smelling weird when it runs out.” Bluntness, Sam had learned, was preferable to dancing around an issue. He was pretty sure Tony felt the same.

@goldenavcnger

(✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): image.jpg (✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): peter said he tried to give you this and you wouldn’t accept it (✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): apparently, you told him to hand it to me??? (✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): i know you hate being handed things (✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): but accept this or i will forward it to pepper 

@goldenavcnger​

Journalism ran in Jon’s blood it seemed. Not just on his dad’s side, but of course also his mom’s. For awhile, he had no idea what he even wanted to do. All he knew is he wanted out of Smallville. There was Kathy, his best friend since he was a kid, knew her just as long as he did Damian. She encouraged him to go to New York, take that leap and besides, what better place to be in the hero game than New York City? He had been there plenty times on and off all through his childhood, but a more permanent residence would be ideal. At the end of the day, Jon just wanted to help people. His interest had been piqued in journalism, but he found himself leaning towards crime journalism (as if he didn’t already have enough of that in his life as is).

But he had to start somewhere. That somewhere was an assignment in interviewing someone relating back to current events. Jon blamed his overachieving nature as genetics in why he decided to seek Tony Stark out. Also...well, also to just check on the guy. He had his ties to him through his mom. He had been dragged to events here and there and ended up talking to him, far too thrilled anytime he got to see the Iron Man suit put to use instead of enduring some stuffy party.  

Okay, if he was being honest with himself he was using the assignment as an excuse to check on him. He sat at the table in the quiet cafe he settled on for the meeting and stood with an easy smile, pushing his glasses (the ones he didn’t even need) up his nose before sticking his hand out at Tony. “Mr. Stark, hi! Thanks for coming, uh—seriously! Like, you didn’t have to but...thanks again! It’s for a school assignment and I just thought it’d be cool—I mean, shoot. Sorry! This like...not professional at all, I’m sure Mom would be cringing. Rewind—okay. Thanks for meeting with me. I’m sure you’re...super busy and I appreciate it a lot.” Jon finally settled on. 

@goldenavcnger

(✉️ ➡️ stank): ok so getting it out of the way first before you bitch at me --- yes, i hacked your phone. you’re welcome for the security check. i accept checks or cash. i also have venmo.  (✉️ ➡️ stank): and yes, i also put my friend terry’s number in your phone. for some reason, she thinks you’re cool. she’s really into old guys, so i guess you do it for her.  (✉️ ➡️ stank): and, okay, i might have also lied about my name. in my defense, you’re kind of a dick and i’m valid. (✉️ ➡️ stank): we’re passed all that anyways. i’m having a fucking crisis and i’m just tipsy enough to think you’re a good guy to talk to about it (✉️ ➡️ stank): you’re into guys and girls, right? (✉️ ➡️ stank): how did you know? does it feel different with one than the other?

Send a word for a specific text from my muse to yours.

Send ‘mad’ to receive a mad/angry text from my muse. || @goldenavcnger

(✉️ ➡️ sugar friend): your robot son (✉️ ➡️ sugar friend): poured water on my head. (✉️ ➡️ sugar friend): water, anthony.  (✉️ ➡️ sugar friend): while i was napping. (✉️ ➡️ sugar friend): i’m going to reprogram him. i’m going to make him pay. i’m going to personally pour water on your face the next time i see you and you will deserve it because he is your son and he is the devil.

♘ for a questioning text

@goldenavcnger

( 📩  →  stark ): testing testing ( 📩  →  stark ): is this really tony stank? ( 📩  →  stark ): *stark. 

❛ they said there was no evidence of a crime being committed. ❜ 

@goldenavcnger

There were public speakers that were good at talking to a room — at making you feel like you were the only one they were talking to, like you were having a conversation with them. It felt personal. And today, maybe it was. Rogue, having grown up running from everyone and everything, being watchful of her own back for years before joining the Brotherhood… she had learned to listen to the people around her. Even the ones that weren’t talking to her specifically. But this time, the conversation she was hearing... it felt pointed. Like they were trying to get someone’s attention. 

The voice, she recognized. Not from speaking with him herself, but from the TV. He had been on the news often enough, clips of him on replay — highlighting ‘important’ things he had said. But he was talking on the phone — or on something — and it was loud. But she had picked up enough to know it was about the Accords. Her first instinct was to get angry. To look over her shoulder and stare at him until he stopped talking, or breathing. Whichever came first. But the last line struck her.

That was all it took, a simple sentence for Rogue to back where she had been when’s he first arrived at the institute. (He was good at talking, good at making points — and here, he was good at being human too.) She wouldn’t call him a sympathizer, but what he said warranted a conversation. Waving at the bartender, she grabbed two drinks before heading over to Tony and helping herself to the seat next to him. 

“Ya voice carries, ya know, even in a place like this,” she put down the drinks and slid one towards him. “Ever think about sayin’ that t’ the cameras — not that I don’t appreciate the attention, but...” Rogue looked at him, wondering if he knew who she was, or if he had seen her with a different, more well known mutant. But no matter, he had her attention now. “Anyone on the other side of that phone call or was that all for my benefit, sugar?” 

@goldenavcnger

I need you to go undercover for me, Mike. A little corporate espionage. Miguel had almost laughed when Tiberius gave the order, because it felt like a joke. Years ago, he’d been working on recreating Spider-Man for that very reason, been working to give men superpowers so they could spy on Alchemax’s competitors. Now here he was, years later and decades earlier, standing in the lobby of what would one day become Stark-Fujikawa with Spider-Man’s powers buzzing under his skin. 

Not that Tiberius had known any of that when he sent him, of course. For all he knew, Miguel was just an especially bright assistant with a smart mouth and a tendency to get under people’s skin. He didn’t know why Ty thought he was the best person to send, but he wasn’t in the headspace to question it. At this point, He knew Alchemax pretty well. He figured getting to know a little more about one of 2099′s other major corps wouldn’t hurt.

Glancing up as the man himself entered the lobby, Miguel plastered on a fake grin and held out his hand. “Mr. Stark? I’m Michael O’Mara. Ms. Potts just hired me on to the genetics department. I think we’ve got a meeting scheduled for this morning?”

@goldenavcnger

(✉️ ➡️ Tony): [unsent] When you gave me that ring for Colleen, were you saying I should (✉️ ➡️ Tony): [unsent] How do I know when (✉️ ➡️ Tony): [unsent] What’s the right /time/ to  (✉️ ➡️ Tony): How do you ask somebody to marry you? (✉️ ➡️ Tony): I’ve been watching a lot of movies, and they always do big dinners or songs, but what if the person doesn’t /like/ big dinners or songs? (✉️ ➡️ Tony): How do you make it special? (✉️ ➡️ Tony): Hypothetically. 

Are they allowed to cut you off? It’s celebration! 

@goldenavcnger  

Daisy wasn’t sure what she had done, but every time she so much as glanced in the bar's direction, she got a glare in return. “I — one drink, Tony. I’ve only had one and I don’t know what I did to cross Grumpy Von Grumpiest over there, but trust me when I say one drink is not enough.” That and it was top shelf... and it was good shit. “Okay, well... it might have been more than one drink.” And Daisy was painfully sober. “I, uh...” Daisy shrugged slightly before opening her bag just slightly to show the silver glint of her flask for Tony to see. “Might have been dumping drinks in there for later.” 

Was it something she needed at home? No. Her efforts were probably best spent trying to sneak some food out so she and Robbie didn’t have to budget how much ramen they were allowed to eat a day. But frankly, their booze bill was always higher than their food. (And most days, alcohol tasted better too.) “Oh, you know — you know,” she said, a smile growing on her face as she nudged him. “You could get me a few more drinks.” 

@goldenavcnger

She might be the next Pepper Potts. And if that wasn’t a compliment, Mary Jane Watson didn’t know what was. Even the sound of Pepper’s heels hitting the floor was distinctively different from anyone else’s. You knew when Pepper Potts was in the building. And MJ dreamed of having that kind of power. Of entering a room and everyone knowing without introduction, just who she was. Recognition based in her intelligence rather than her beauty. Respect and renown for her brilliance? That was what MJ wanted. Because one day, MJ knew, her beauty would fade. And the last thing that MJ wanted, was to be limited --- or defined by the way she appeared.

But no one would have gotten that impression from her today. Today, she was standing in Tony’s lab, unable to pin down his exact location --- FRIDAY was usually easy to turn (ratting Tony out seemed to be one of the AI’s favorite pastimes), but today, it seemed like all FRIDAY could do was give a generic answer and a shrug (could she shrug if she had no form? Maybe not, but MJ could hear it in her tone). So, she stood there with Dum-E, a party hat on his head. (Was it his head? MJ was pretty sure it was his head.) Hearing footsteps, MJ knew it was Tony without looking, because like Pepper Potts, there was a familiar weight in them, distinctive. “He looked sad,” MJ said, finally turning to look at Tony. “He loves the hat!” Dum-E beeped with something that MJ would claim was happiness, proving her point. He loved the hat. 

“I came back to a full voicemail and over four hundred emails,” MJ crossed her arms and looked at Tony. “You either had a lot of fun while I was gone, or you found your way into immeasurable trouble.” MJ knew which, she had seen the news. Playing catch up on the flight home to see just what mess she was walking into. And Tony had been busy since she had been gone. “Anything you want to confess before I call Miss Everhart back?” 

‘happy’ to receive a happy/excited text from my muse. @goldenavcnger

( 📩 → rich & on thin ice ! ): [IMAGE ATTACHED] ( 📩 → rich & on thin ice ! ): now that i have your attention HELLO. i stole your number from peter parker’s phone because he’s a sweet, sweet dumbass. also i’m good at hacking, not to toot my own horn, but TOOT.  ( 📩 → rich & on thin ice ! ): i’m here to happily inform you that you’re not the only rich man i can steal from if given the chance! i mostly do it to bruce wayne, but that’s because he makes it easy. he’s a chump like that.  ( 📩 → rich & on thin ice ! ): this is ur warning. a warning what for? not sure. just a warning because i’m mysterious like that.