I never miss...

Assassin, Avenger, occasional sarcastic asshole

[ahawkunmade]

The Demons Won’t Drown || Clint  & Steve

[ahawkunmade]

thevalueofstrength:

Steve doesn’t move a muscle, watching his friend from the corner of his eye instead. He isn’t fine but the Captain will hardly call him on it when he already looks ready to flee to someplace different. Better to keep the man where he is and get him to calm down than have him run into the night and end up on the short end of trouble. 

“I was awake. Just because you’re in bed, doesn’t mean you’re sleeping.” Not hard to believe, though not entirely true. Frankly, he rather be awake than not these days. “Let me get you that toothbrush.” 

Slowness allows his movements to be recognized, spaced out, and taken stock of. It’s something he learned around soldiers, when they woke up in the night, and considering what he knows about Clint’s file, he’s got no qualms calling the crying out ‘shell shock’ in his head. They all had been places they would rather not be, and who’s to say that any of them wouldn’t be in a similar spot some nights? 

Quietly, he goes and returns, offering a toothbrush in a box and a resort style toothpaste to Barton. It’s from a survival bag in his closet, but how hard were these things to come by, really? Every Tom, Dick, and Harry seemed to have some sort of contraption or online store these days that sold soaps or pastes or something he could use in a pinch. This was just the tip of the iceberg, really, on what he had stashed in his apartment. 

“Besides, it’s early enough that a cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt anyone.” 

Still projecting his movements, the Captain just nods from the doorway and moves back, stepping light into the kitchen area. He allows the other to follow or not, giving the archer some space so that he can clean himself up. The bathroom is far too small, anyways, for the both of them and he didn’t particularly feel like blocking the door with his tall frame. It isn’t until he hears a small noise behind him that he acknowledges that he’s not home alone, flipping on the coffee maker with a beep, having loaded it in the meantime. 

“It’s not the best drink in the world, but it’ll do,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand through already spiked hair. “Been awhile since I was moving around this early. You don’t seem like you’re entirely used to it either, huh?” 

The time in which Steve walked away and returned felt like a fraction of a second-- Clint head being spacey and so consumed with jumbled thoughts that he was heavily displaced. Turning, the archer accepted the packaged toothbrush and toothpaste, eager to get the bad taste out of his mouth. Coffee sounded good, especially with his refusal to go back to sleep. It would have to be black, and strong enough to give a bitter burn all the way to the pit of his stomach.

After freshening up and looking somewhat better than he was, Clint followed Steve into the kitchen and took a seat at the dining table. His arms came to rest atop it, one hand propping up his head as he watched the captain flip on the coffee maker. “Nah. Always been more of the night owl type with a tendency to sleep in. More things tend to happen at night anyway.” Except recently. He and Steve had been attacked in plain daylight, and even Clint’s confrontation with Loki had been during a time when the sun was still lingering.

But still, he was so tired. Clint had been entirely off his game for the past few days and he knew he was far from his best. Hopefully things stayed tame, because if it came to another battle he wasn’t quite sure he would have it in him to be a reliable fighter. He felt sore, even sickly in the way his muscles ached and his eyes burned. There was a constant throbbing in his head, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the lack of sleep or something else. Recently he just hadn’t felt...right.

At least for now the room wasn’t spinning quite so bad, but that was just another bad sign to add to the rest.

“What are your plans for today?” Clint asked, more in an effort to make small talk as he listened to the coffee being brewed. He wasn’t even sure what he would do himself. Feeling like shit had a way of messing with his usually organized and prepared thoughts. He would have teased Steve, asking if he was going out to grocery shop like a good little house wife, but couldn’t be damned near interested enough to do so.

[ahawkunmade]

Alone Time || Clint & ____

[ahawkunmade]

thefamouspottsceo:

“Aw no. An empty bag? You crushed his hopes and dreams.” Pepper teased Clint. Shhe knelt down next to her dog, patting him affectionately. “You should. Dogs are great company.” She smiled sadly, wishing she didn’t need a dog to keep her company. “Plus they make the best bedfellows.” 

“I’d love some company.” Pepper nodded, straightening up. “And Socrates seems to want your company too. He likes you. Huh Socrates?” Pepper grinned down at the bulldog.

She waited for Clint to stand  and began down the path. 

“It’s what I do.” The archer jested in return, but noticed something off about Pepper’s smile. He spoke to her every now and then, but he found himself curious as to what lay behind that usual cheerful expression.

Clint matched Pepper’s pace, staying at her side as his eyes continued to roam the area around them. The crumpled bag was passed to his left hand, which he used to toss into the nearest bin. It was a dangerous time to be alone, or maybe it just was for people like him, but regardless he’d act as a body guard and made sure she got home safe. Clint found himself wondering however if his presence would invite trouble.

“So is this the only time you get off? I imagine your job eats away at a lot of hours.” He stated, tucking his hands into his pockets and feeling the solidness of the gun tucked under the right side press firmly against him. It brought a strange comfort with it, not as much as his bow mind you, but it was something at least.

[harbingeroflies]

Drops of Darkness {Barton&Loki}

[ahawkunmade]

harbingeroflies:

“My path will lead me where I am needed,” Loki corrects, sighing out as he watches the small ripples he has created disappear in the swirling sloth of the ocean. “For though perhaps you make good upon your words, there are others that need more than you have within you. Your strength, your knowledge, how well was it used before? Did they even listen to you, if you rather be dead than held up for what you have accomplished. Aye, I will never know, will I?” 

Loki turned, staring at Clint head on, blinking slowly as he gains his breath. 

“There are many whose strengths I have seen in battle, but no such finesse as when it was you,” he admits, arms opening and with a small bow of his head. It would have been regal if he had not been matted, dirty, and looking for a way towards a place to rest. “Blunt force and pure luck, that is what has been used before and to great effect. But that could not do what you did. Well done, little bird. Well done.” 

He means his congratulations as he chuckles softly, though it turns into a breath between his teeth as he turns and continues on. Would the other follow again or let him go? The god knows not, but he does feel as if he could reach out now and find solid matter once more, as it had been before. How it should be again, if only they would listen to him and accept that he has seen the universe and knows they will lose, in the end, if they do not accept his help. Out of the many truths in the world, his were the least honey coated, he supposed, but his truths were not the worst. Though he may speak it, most would simply let the mortals learn, unattended. 

“You could have had so much power,” he murmurs, more to himself than Barton. “You could have been so much more than what they’d built you up to be before. All you perhaps require is a bit of spark.” 

It dawns on the god that the spark could come from himself, but Loki barely has enough power to stand upright and keep himself hidden from Asgard. In time, that would change, he would make sure of it but until then, he was lost to weaving the hawk back to him. To bring a wild bird in without the proper training would only piece him, but Loki knew a thing or two about biding his time. 

He had much of it to spare. 

It was a strange feeling to have Loki build him up and commend him, and at the same time feel the sting of knowing his performance had probably been its best under the tesseract’s influence. Clint had been eager to please, he knew that much, and he had committed himself fully to each and every task set down. Loki only had to whisper his desires, and Clint would make it happen no matter the price. Flawless and dedicated, that’s what Clint could be when his mind was set.

The archer’s jaw set, though the string of his bow finally relaxed in his hand. He felt troubled now. There had always been a questioning of his worth, and a drive to push just a little harder if not to convince others, then to convince himself that his presence was needed. It had made him successful in what he did, and kept him alive, but it had also shown SHIELD how dangerous he truly was. When he was used against them, they were all so ready to put him down. Even after the battle was won, nothing had been the same. Most were wary around him, others holding a grudge because they lacked the clearance level to know what had really happened. For all his loyalty and the risk he’d taken, he’d become a traitor in the eyes of many, and it had been out of his control.

Guilt became sadness, Clint’s eyes falling elsewhere, but the mention of a spark has the image of the tesseract flashing in his head, and then everything comes unchecked, the archer stepping back from the force of it. Something mentally cracks, whatever walls Clint has built up to block out any and all distractions falling to the ground in an instant. Raw emotional damage comes through him, reaching back farther than the incident with Loki. 

Clint is questioning everything now, something he’s never done, and he’s wondering why and how he’s gotten to where he is. What is he now? Where did he belong and what was he supposed to do? It was sickening yet satisfying to hear from Loki what he was capable of. Had he really begun doubting himself that much?

When Loki begins moving away, Clint is only thinking of following, having deemed this not yet over, but he’s rooted in place. He feels vulnerable, and he hates that, but now that his confidence is momentarily gone all he can do is retreat and recover.

“Don’t think because SHIELD is out of the picture you have the freedom to do what you want.” It’s meant to be a threat, but Clint’s voice betrays him. Everything he says has the same meaning for him. Even with SHIELD gone, he is still a prisoner. There will never come a day where he can stop running and hiding, and though it is something he thought he’d accepted and moved on from, it appears to be crushing him now. 

[ahawkunmade]

The Demons Won’t Drown || Clint  & Steve

[ahawkunmade]

thevalueofstrength:

He’s let him be all night, though a clear gaze has been on the archer since he arrived. Steve isn’t one to push, knowing perhaps better than most that whatever someone is seeing may not be in front of them. The distance has led to him keeping things quiet, shuffling Barton out into the living room so he can cook, clean up the dishes, or whatever else menial chore he has to do during the time between sunset and bed down. 

Now, however, he’s regretting his decision just a sliver. Bolting out of bed, his shield is in his hand before he even hits the ground. But the noises aren’t of invasion and the retching is a little bit too stomach turning to ignore. 

The shield is set down and Steve sighs, going to dig some things out from under his own sink. 

Should have known it wasn’t going to be an easy night, not with the way Barton had been earlier. But the Captain had been hoping that at least he didn’t leave in the middle of the night. Now, he doesn’t think that’s an option and he yawns as he moves past the bathroom on light feet, getting a glass of water and a handful of mints out of his kitchen before he moves to the door. Considering it’s his own apartment, he doesn’t knock, but he does stay to the threshold and only set his offerings down quietly to still give the other distance. 

The mints are put on the rug, the water on the vanity, and a bottle of seltzer water goes beside that. A quick rub at the back of his neck, taking in the other, and Steve finally sinks down in the door frame, back to one side, a foot propped up on the other. 

“Want a warm towel?” he murmurs softly, glancing sideways at Barton. 

There’s no room to ask what’s going on, at least not yet. He’s scanned the apartment on his way to the kitchen and there’s no sign of forced entry, everything still locked down from his rounds before bed. So whatever has caused the other to shout is either internal or memory ridden, though Steve knows far more about one than the other. 

“I also have a spare toothbrush if you need it.”

Clint manages to lift his arm high enough to flush the toilet and its obvious he’s lost in his own head because he doesn’t even notice Steve is up and bringing him things. As far as he thinks, he’s somewhere alone, and so when he hears the voice behind him, Clint is up on his feet in an instant, whirling around with a look crossed between confusion, panic, and a deadly promise to fight back.

In a split second he’s looking for a weapon and a way out, but upon realizing it was Steve in the doorway, the adrenaline burst passes and Clint promptly deflates into something weaker. It takes him another moment to remember where he is and how he got there, and then he’s shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He answered, voice raspy. “I’ll take the spare toothbrush though.”

He’s up against the sink now, turning on the faucet so that he could collect cool water in his hands and splash it on his face. There would be no chance of resting now, and so now was as good as any time to head out and patrol the city. No point in sticking around.

He feels dizzy though, unsteady, and it seems neither the water on his face washing his sweat away or the grip on the counter was helping much. Maybe leaving just now wouldn’t be the best idea. “Sorry for waking you.” Clint said softly, glancing over his shoulder before letting his head hang once more. He offers no explanation, and was rather grateful he wasn’t being questioned. Even if there were questions he would have no idea how to answer them, not when he had so many of his own.

What was happening? Why was he being plagued by these terrible nightmares and was feeling this constant weight on him, like there was something dark clinging to his shoulders. Maybe this was Loki’s doing, but even then what was there to back up the blame?

[harbingeroflies]

Drops of Darkness {Barton&Loki}

[ahawkunmade]

harbingeroflies:

There’s a wet chuckle that escapes the god’s lips. Oh, while alone he is much more dangerous, for who does he have to answer to but himself? But he would let the little bird believe in himself so fully, so completely, that he’d never realize he was lying to himself. Rubbing at his chest, Loki only brushes off business of his weakness, working to plant every step as he slowly goes down the coastline. 

“Ah, yes. The attack. Still on about that, are you?” Loki inquires, pausing to take a few breathes before he continues to move on and speak over his shoulder. “There was hardly but a suggestion. Your training did the rest. I am not as skilled with a bow, you see. That was entirely your own actions, taking the best course on how to infiltrate and destroy.” 

It had ended long ago, however, or at least it felt that way to the god. He could not fathom how close it truly had been, for his life had spread together in between. 

Blurred outlines of events lay before him, bringing him up short enough to take a step back as he growls at nothing but his own mind’s shadows in front of him. Gaze twitching back and forth, his eyes finally shut to the dim memories and voices in front of him. Oh, he should thank the Hulk for what he had done, severing a connection that he had been forced into in the first place. Titans do not listen, even to superior ideas, and Loki had known the invasion would not last long enough to truly conquer. 

After all, they were focusing on a single city with most of their forces and they only had a single entry point. A choke hold that was used against them, an army that was not truly his. But he would change that, this time, and Loki continues on a few steps, blind, only to open his eyes and realize he’s veered off onto wet stones again. 

“A free pass would imply life were easy for any one of us,” the god mumbles, at last stooping to slide a hand around a rock. He studies it before he tosses it away, carelessly, into the waves. “Struggles create champions, pain brings strength. It is the easy path that tears individuals apart, wears them away to nothing, without a single cry from their own lips. They become useless, complacent. It will never be enough for me to pass by, harmless. No, one day, you will find yourself either dead or beside me once more, little bird. For my path is the harder path to take.” 

That was entirely your own actions, taking the best course on how to infiltrate and destroy.

The weight on Clint’s chest seemed to double in that moment. It was one thing to stare at himself in the mirror and place the blame, but to hear the one he deemed the culprit toss it back at him and reveal that it had been mostly his plan all along made something in the archer crumble. It made sense really. Clint knew every detail of the Helicarrier, knew every weak point, entry and exit. With a small crew, he could bring the thing to the ground in a matter of minutes, and he would have if Natasha hadn’t stopped him.

He fell silent then, unable to find some insult to spit out or a demeaning comment to attempt to rile Loki with. Instead, he listened, finding some truth in what he was hearing, and then feeling a cold shudder at the realization he could relate to anything Loki was telling him. 

“I think I’d rather be dead.” Clint muttered in response, but there was something hauntingly promising about what he was being told that made him wonder what was to come. A dark cloud seemed to be circling him wherever he went and though he’d made preparations to survive after SHIELD was gone, he’d grown accustomed to that lifestyle. He almost missed hearing Coulson or Fury’s voice barking orders to him. Things had been familiar after a while, a purpose placed on him from the very beginning, and now there was nothing, not even the team to go back to.

Clint had pointed the finger at Loki and told him he was alone, but in reality he was too. The only thing Clint could think to go back to was killing. It was all he’d ever done. With no overlooking structure, he was without order however, running wild like a confused animal and offering help to the few friends he had, or watching his back every place he went. His targets were a mess of files, but even if he killed them all, what then? What was his purpose now?

“I think I’m good calling my own shots.” Clint said gruffly. “And whatever ‘path’ your taking needs to lead you off earth. I have enough to deal with as it is.”

[marvel-hqq]

Official still released by Marvel from Captain America: Civil War

[harbingeroflies]

Drops of Darkness {Barton&Loki}

[ahawkunmade]

harbingeroflies:

“Because I wish to be,” Loki responds, brow arching at Barton before he gets onto firmer ground. A deep breath that eases out of his lips like smoke and the god turns his eyes finally away, looking up at what little of the stars he can see, interfered only by the lights of the city. Shame, shame, shame. “Why does anyone go to places of memory? To live in those memories for a time again.” 

Only he wishes that there were not so many to relive as he steps away again, moving slowly but steadily back towards the transport containers. He wonders if the archer has seen the destruction and changes course in case he hasn’t. Others can find the bodies, if there were any left. 

Spine stiffening, the god whirls on his heels, a shock of adrenaline giving him more power over his body. Lowering his stance, feet planting, Loki glares but remains quiet. 

“Let him believe I lie dead on a dark elf planet,” he murmurs, teeth gnashing over the words. “Let them all believe I have found peace in Valhalla with the Allmother. That is what they would want and that is what they will have.” 

Through their own work as much as those who are his enemies. He is sure Odin would adore the thought of him gone, no longer fearing the end of his reign at the hands of a wolf and a god that could tear the universe asunder. 

“What does it matter to you?” Loki mumbles, shoulders rolling down as he swings around and moves along the water’s edge, away from Barton. “Because you fear what I could bring to this planet? Or because you think that it is your business what I do. If you wished to kill me, you would have done so already as I sat over the edge of the water.” 

It would be easy enough to believe if I just ended you now. Clint thought coldly to himself. He would have summoned SHIELD in an instant, and taken pleasure to see Loki tossed in another cage without the benefit of a brainwashed group of thugs to get him out. The archer’s jaw set at that, only because he had been the head of that very group. He’d led the attack on his own. He’d gotten Coulson killed. All because of Loki.

“You’re not a threat to the planet anymore.” Clint shot back. “You’re alone, and from the looks of it you don’t pose much of a threat.” But he was still a nuisance. He was still someone that could align himself with the enemy, and he was still capable of harming others. “Don’t get me wrong, I want you dead. And I want to be the one to kill you.” Clint continued in an even tone. “But I’m not going to kill you with your back turned to me, and certainly not when you’re half kicked to the ground.” Why let it be spoiled? This wasn’t a breeze through assassination like he’d done in the past. This was personal, and the hatred he had for Loki was still as fresh as when he’d woken from the mind control.

Clint’s eyes drifted from Loki to the warehouse nearby, but only for an instant before they went back to him. This was his concern right now, everything else could wait. “You’re not getting a free pass from me. Not after what you made me do.” He ground out, images beginning to flash through his head, but he shoved them away, struggling to keep his focus. 

Clint had never confronted the trauma of it all. He’d never spoken about any of it, not the guilt, the pain, or the absolute self-loathing that had resulted. But now he was confronting the source, and unfortunately it was threatening to bring down the baggage with it.

[ahawkunmade]

The Enemy of my Enemy || Clint & Bucky

[ahawkunmade]

justawinterghoststory:

James hesitates once more before following the archer. Barton seems trustworthy for now, didn’t expect the HYDRA attack, so there’s a low chance for him to be leading James into a trap. Still, he’s not going to be putting his guard down anytime soon.

His arm shakes with every breath and step, it’s getting to be on the side of painful. Of course, it would’ve been worse before the upgrade from HYDRA’s engineers. He hopes they’re not seen, because he’s nearly about to faint from the pain his metal arm is shooting down his spine. Needing to fight again in his condition is a bad idea, and Barton isn’t doing much better.

Barton’s place is farther than he likes, but it’ll do. Though, it’s a bit questionable that an Avenger has a safe house in a place that looks like this. “Nice place.” He says dryly as he watches Barton move a dresser to open the door. The room, at least, looks better than it should in a building so rundown.

James notes all the exits of the place before relaxing, plopping down on a dining room chair and lifting his left arm up onto the table. “You wouldn’t happen to be an engineer, would you?” He frowns, then winces when the metal arm whirs in protest to his brain’s command of move. He sighs, poking around the plates to switch off the arm completely. There’s basic knowledge of fixing his arm up, but he’s pretty sure there are fried wires from the electrical charge it received. The only thing he’s able to do is turn it off and stop the painful jolts.

“If I was an engineer I’d be fighting with something cooler than a stick and string.” Clint said as he bent down and opened a cabinet under the kitchen sink, digging around until he located a large first aid kit. He plopped it on the counter, wasting no time to lay out the materials he needed to take care of the wound on his shoulder. 

The quiver came off first, joined by the top layer of clothing. Now in a sleeveless undershirt, the depth of the cut Barnes had left was visible, and though deep it didn’t appear to be anything overly concerning. Clint pressed a wad of gauze to it, applying pressure in an attempt to ease the blood flow. He then turned his attention to the metal arm, seeing the damage the EMP type arrowhead had done. He might actually be able to make it functional again, but a real repair would have to come from someone better equipped to handle it. Still, Clint is wondering if he even should.

He’s reaching for pliers and electrical tape now, taking a seat across from Barnes and looking over the arm. “I take it you and HYDRA aren’t the best of friends anymore.” Clint muttered, before tapping the cold metal. “Can you open this bad boy up so I can take a look inside? Can’t promise it’ll be good as new, but maybe I can fix it enough so it’s not just hanging there.” Or mess it up worse. There was not an ounce of trust for Barnes, and so Clint was highly considering ridding him of the weapon completely unless he had a damn good explanation for the damage he’d caused. “Last I saw, you were target number one. A real pain in the ass. And someone who tried to hurt my friends...” This was said with a glare,a very unforgiving one at that.

[ahawkunmade]

The Demons Won’t Drown || Clint  & Steve

Since Steve had left the spare key to his apartment in Clint’s ownership, the archer had made a point not to come barging in very often.He didn’t want to overstay his welcome or breach boundaries, not just with Steve but with himself as well. Trust was a funny thing though, and since Christmas there had been a couple of times Clint silently came in the apartment during the night, trying to get some rest on the couch with the knowledge he wasn’t alone. Only problem was, no matter where he seemed to be, he couldn’t settle into sleep long before he was waking in cold sweats.

Seeing Loki again had rattled the archer. His assurance had fallen, something in his head feeling alien to him, and he was wondering if it was just him and his fear of being put under another controlling spell. Either way, Clint felt far from himself. He was tired, the skin around his eyes darkening, and his senses felt dull. This would pose a problem if there came another need to fight, but so far the archer could find no way to rid himself of this mental sickness of sorts.

Clint had arrived at Steve’s apartment early that evening. He was quiet, not his usual jesting self and he was hardly interested in talking much. With background noise of the television, or Steve moving about, it was easier for Clint to doze off a few times, but once night came down and the apartment went silent, the nightmares took hold again.

They were vivid, real enough to be confused with memories. Clint felt he was losing touch with reality, especially when he woke amidst confusion and absolute terror. Details were never lost, and the physical pain seemed to follow him into the real world. Clint could feel something sharp on his wrists, some form of bond grinding and slicing his skin every time he tried to move. The smell in the air was putrid, metallic and heavy with stale blood. It was making him sick, but it was the screams that was driving him mad. Men, women, children, all being killed before his eyes by some unseen, yet violent force. Some bodies bore arrows, his arrows, and Clint felt a choked sound catch in his throat.There was more struggling, a voice rumbling in his head that he couldn’t quite make out, and he shut his eyes against it, only when he opened them again he was greeted with a sight that made his blood run cold. Joined in the growing pile of bodies was the recognizable red and blue uniform, the shield laying just out of reach. A mere foot away was another form, slender with fiery red hair, just as limp and lifeless as the other. 

Clint heard himself cry out in both rage and grief, and then his eyes shot open, the same sound tearing from his throat as he bolted into a sitting position, body slick with sweat yet muscles quivering as if he was feverish. His stomach churned painfully, and Clint stumbled into the bathroom down the hall, barely making it to the toilet where he heaved and dispelled what little food was in his stomach. He sunk to his knees, shaking and rubbing at his eyes as he fought to catch his breath. Whatever was happening was getting worse, and it appeared to be reaching a point where the more he tried to bury it, the harder it dragged him down.

[ahawkunmade]

Alone Time || Clint & ____

[ahawkunmade]

thefamouspottsceo:

“Aw no. An empty bag? You crushed his hopes and dreams.” Pepper teased Clint. Shhe knelt down next to her dog, patting him affectionately. “You should. Dogs are great company.” She smiled sadly, wishing she didn’t need a dog to keep her company. “Plus they make the best bedfellows.” 

“I’d love some company.” Pepper nodded, straightening up. “And Socrates seems to want your company too. He likes you. Huh Socrates?” Pepper grinned down at the bulldog.

She waited for Clint to stand  and began down the path. 

Clint raise a brow at that, finding it hard to believe Tony would be okay with a dog crowding the bed, but it wasn’t an ounce of his business so he kept it to himself. Still, his sharp eyes could pick up something in her expression-- something in her smile that was a little off. 

Putting it on the back-burner for now, Clint smiled down at the dog and promptly followed Pepper as she moved, coming beside her and offering silent protection as his eyes continued to seek out anything that may pose as a threat-- something done purely by years of training that led to habit.

“Heading back to Stark Tower?” Clint asked, tossing the empty bag into a trash bin before tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. 

[thevalueofstrength-archive]

Predator & Prey | Clint & Steve

[ahawkunmade]

thevalueofstrength:

There’s a huff of laughter from the Captain as he watches the archer move along. It’s been a long day and he shouldn’t overstay his welcome, really. Still, there’s something almost homey about this place and Steve has so rarely thought that about anywhere, including his own apartment. Head falling back, he calls out a ‘Thanks!’ to the disappeared archer and then stares at the ceiling for a moment or two.  

Sweat has since dried on his back from the fight and whatever injuries he sustained are now slowly aching away from him. Not so bad and he’ll do a once over when he gets back to his place, but beyond that, he’s unconcerned about himself. No blood that is visible, no trouble breathing, and nothing drastically hurts when he bends it. Rolling out his shoulders gives him the momentum to stand up and the Captain starts to collect his things. Shield and jacket soon find their way over his back once more and he’s searching out his friend with quiet steps. 

“It’s time to hit the road, pal,” he murmurs, offering up a grin to the other that’s small and back to basics. It’s so easy for him to be exactly who people expect that he falls into it regularly. Captain America was, after all, based on himself, so it wasn’t like it was hard. “You know where my place is should things go south a time or two?” 

Or dozen. Really, they needed to get themselves all checked for curses or what not with the regularity that they found trouble. Maybe just trackers under the skin and that has Steve uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I’ll leave it scribbled somewhere for you, but I best head out. Wasn’t exactly the plan for today, so I still need to go do something like shop for groceries tonight if I want to get anything else done this week.” Mundane, boring, but necessary. Kind of sounded like his life. “You want to lock the door behind him?” 

Steve’s voice sounding from behind had Clint turning, blinking in surprise that the other man was eager to get going already. At most times Clint would be okay with that, hell he would usually be the one trying to take off, but to hear the reasoning being something so...domestic...it made him see Steve in a new light. For a moment they felt like old friends hanging out on a weekend, sun setting and clock ticking towards a late time where everyone would have to depart and get ready for their ordinary lives.

Only there was definitely nothing ordinary about the way they lived, except maybe Steve going out to get groceries. The thought was somewhat hilarious. “Shop for groceries.” Clint repeated with the beginnings of a smirk. “We were nearly killed and the first thing to do on the list is go shopping for groceries. You are a strange one.” He mused, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and bringing his worn arms to rest atop his legs. 

“There’s a notepad by the stove. Just jot it down in the back.” He’d take a look at it later, hardly putting it at the top of his list since running to someone else when things got bad wasn’t how he tended to play it. Clint was a loner, and he was certain he always would be, but there was a surprising disappointment to see Steve go so soon. Even though he wasn’t willing to admit it, he did miss having the guy around.

Grunting, Clint got back to his feet, feeling ore of the soreness reverberating through him with each movement. A soak in the tub would be for the best before he tried for some sleep.The archer wasn’t expecting a full night’s rest-- he hardly ever got such, but maybe at least a few hours to get him through the move tomorrow.

“Yeah yeah, I got the door. Take care of yourself out there.” Clint said, not just saying it to say it, but really meaning it. The look he gave Steve reflected that. Though Clint was known by those that knew him as someone who could be rather sarcastic and carefree at times, there was a big part of him that was serious, especially when it concerned someone he considered a friend. 

[ahawkunmade]

AMA: What's your favorite thing to write about with your character?

Clint has so much trauma in his life, and the fact it has played a huge role in how he thinks, what he does, and who he trusts is a big gold star in his character development. I study psychology in school (SO close to getting my degree too :P ) and I absolutely love the baggage on Clint’s shoulders that so easily gets overlooked. 

Another thing I love about him is his complete lack of powers. He’s literally an ordinary guy hanging out with enhanced beings and not only that, he’s damn good at keeping up. The same respect goes out to Natasha. Clint has to use wit, talent, and sometimes reach for a string of luck to get through a situation.

[ahawkunmade]

What helps you get in character while writing?

There are a number of things I do when I’m preparing to respond to a thread, but the biggest would have to be listening to music. I’ve devised a sort of playlist for each character I write, soundtrack music or songs that might relate to my character’s current situation being an excellent way to get me pumped and eager to get into the zone. Sometimes if I need a little pick me up for Clint, it’s easy enough to pop open a Hawkeye comic or sit back and rewatch one of the Avenger films. 

All in all, I’ll never just ‘fudge’ a character response. If I’m not feeling my muse, I’ll hold off on replying until I do what I need to to get back into the correct mindset. 

[ahawkunmade]

AMA: Where would you suggest your character go over a long weekend if you met them in person?

Ha! I love this.

Clint needs a beach. The prettiest beach I ever went to was in Cozumel. It was quiet, clear waters, and soft sand. It’s a place you can go to clear your head and really just relax, and let’s be honest, Clint could really use that.

[ahawkunmade]

Alone Time || Clint & ____

[ahawkunmade]

thefamouspottsceo:

Pepper chuckled. “Nah. Tony just knows that if I get pissed I can manage to have him frozen out of his bank accounts for a couple of days.” She shook her head, “Not that I would, of course. But I could if I wanted to. I’ve threatened it a couple of times.”

Socrates wandered over towards Clint, letting out a tiny huff of a sigh, wanting his attention. Pepper shook her head with a good natured grin. “I don’t usually, but Socrates lead me here. I just sort of follow him unless he’s going somewhere dangerous or something.” 

The dog pawwed at Clint’s foot, ears perking up at the sound of the crumpling paper. “Sorry, he’s a bit of an attention whore. He loves meeting new people.” Pepper leaned down to pat the dog’s back. “So is taking long walks in less populated areas and hanging out in trees a Clint thing or just a tonight thing?”

Clint glanced down at the dog with a raised brow, shaking the crumpled bag at him. “It’s empty.” He said, looking back to Pepper at her question. “Oh it’s a Clint thing.” He answered with an amused smile. “I don’t like being around a lot of people. Even in SHIELD, I kept to myself.”

He knelt down then, scratching the dog fondly behind the ear. “You know, I thought about getting a dog.” Clint said, his reasons as to why going unsaid.He’d never admit it, but he was lonely at times. More comfortable without SHIELD breathing down his neck, yes, but he’d gotten used to being on bases and Helicarriers, and now he was jumping from place to place in hiding.

“Want some company?” He offered, glancing up at Pepper. “I was starting to get stiff from sitting up in that tree anyway.”

[marveltaskforcerpg]

   I am participating in the ASK ME ANYTHING EVENT

THIS IS THE POST TO REBLOG IF YOU ARE PARTICIPATING IN THIS EVENT. Please tag asks #TF 2015 AMA. Not sure what to ask? Here are a few questions to start the thoughts a flowing!

One of the player’s best RP experiences

Something the player likes about their writing

A funny RPing story associated with TaskForce

One of the player’s guilty RP pleasures

A word of advice from one RPer to another on ___ subject

Reminders

The AMA Asks should center around:

Character development

The writing process of the player

The personal life and thoughts of the characters

Learning about head canons

Learning player’s likes and dislikes

The AMA Event is NOT:

About the writer’s personal life

Event ends January 3rd, 2016

[thevalueofstrength-archive]

Predator & Prey | Clint & Steve

[ahawkunmade]

thevalueofstrength:

“So I’m interesting? Well, I’m down right honored.” Steve grabs hold of that bit, grinning ear to ear as his tone actually turns to something that, in another life, could have been teasing. “No solo ops. Just tracking down a few leads and I ended up in a few positions that I rather I hadn’t by myself.” 

He really did work better with a team at his back, after all. There was a reason he was a leader and without someone to lead, he tended to over think things by himself. With no other ideas and no way around his own tendency to plow into problems to fix them, sometimes with his fists and sometimes with his words (most often the latter but hey, there were times he couldn’t help the easy way out), he didn’t tend to come to many solutions by his lonesome. Then again, it made things a Hell of a lot easier when something needed to get done, not having to consult a dozen people on the point. 

Especially when he knew it was the right way to end up, the Captain eyeing the bag of peas now out of his reach. That boy was going to end up over his knee, wasn’t he? And when did he start thinking like an old man, not just talking like one? 

“The only need I have is for a friend at my side,” Steve comments softly after a moment of thinking. He remembers a startling similar conversation with someone else, and his gaze wanders from Barton, wondering if she’s listening somewhere. “I know the business doesn’t always allow for it, but until a time comes that I can no longer lift the shield… consider my resources open to you, as well. And you’d be surprised at how many there are.” 

This at least gets a genuine chuckle from him, the noise rolling from his chest instead of ebbing out of his throat. 

“Just keep yourself alive and I’ll do the same and, at the end of the day, we at least know we have someplace to crash. I think that’s a good start, huh?” 

“Consider your needs met then.” Clint replied, taking a moment to stretch before rising from the couch. “I however, need more comfortable clothes, something to eat, and maybe a movie.” He reached for the bag of peas, being sure to take that with him even though it was something he was damn sure he would never eat.

“I should have something in the closet to fit you if you wanna change. I keep random sizes in there in case I end up dragging someone around with me.” The archer called as he vanished down the hall, promptly changing into a t-shirt and sweats and double checking the small stash he had hidden in a cutout portion of the drywall, a panel easily blending it when shut.

There was a bundle of hundreds, a few loaded clips along with a 9mm, a couple of fake ID’s, and a cellphone, one that looked particularly ancient in a time of touch screen electronics, but it was untraceable and just the thing that was needed in a tight time.

Content with what he had in this particular safehouse, Clint slid the bow back into place and covered it with the panel, lining it up just right so it was nearly invisible to the untrained eye. They would be safe here, for a few nights at least, but the pressing need to keep on the move was always nagging at the archer, and he was sure by midday tomorrow, he would be moving on.

Maybe he should consider heading back to his farm soon. At least out there it was peaceful and he was completely unbothered.