#alexinthestrangeworld

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I just want my name in the credits. Or a phone call from Joe and Anthony. Please. That's all I want.

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Tbh I had never thought Frank Castle and Wanda Maximoff would have such a warm friendship, yet here we are. (aka guess who started writing on Destruction Under Gods again?)

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“You knew him? Before SHIELD?” He nods. “Aye, me an’ Clint go way back. He’s a bit younger than me, right? Joined the army a bit after I did, lying through his teeth about his age and all. He told ‘em he was 19 when he was 17, the little bastard. So they put this scrawny ass kid in the same training bataillon as me, right? I see him, and I know- he’s not gonna make it, but the scores he would do on the range! Man, you should’ve seen us moping at him like he was sent from outer space. I think someone pulled up sniper records and he broke some sort of marksmanship record that'd been standing since James Barnes, y’know, in the second world War an’ all.” He laughs, a dry, thick laugh, before looking at the door through which Clint had left earlier. “Nah, he was fickle as a straw that kid, beat up and scarred beyond anything I’d ever seen from him, but we got through it together man, and he bulked up nice. Taught me a thing or two about shooting-” “One shot, one kill,” Wanda mutters under her breath and Frank smiles. It had been the only reason why she had trusted Frank to take the shot. Clint had taught him to shoot.

Sunday Six (or a little bit more), next chapter of Destroyed Under Gods is well underway. Only been 6 months since I updated.

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I really want to make an AMV to Imagine Dragon’s Warriors for Clint (and to some extent, Barney, too) in the same way I made the Heroes MCU one (except the Clint one would  be BETTER)

(tbh “The time will come when you'll have to rise / above the best, improve yourself / your spirit never dies” is the most Clint lyrics to ever lyric)

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I’m gonna finish Destroyed Under Gods. The pictures of Renner getting his hair cut have motivated me. I’m gonna do it. I wanna put him through hell and get him back.

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@alexinthestrangeworld is making a new Ronin icon with the new Jeremy pictures and I can tell you it looks phenomenal already ♥♥♥

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I wish you would write the fic where Clint and Laura are criminals.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s been in this position. 

“So, Barton, Clinton Francis,” the agent reads, and Clint is already bored. He’s already worked out three different ways to get out of these handcuffs, and none of them involve keys. They’re making it too easy for him. He was, after all, trained by a swordsman, an archer, and lately, even a magician. Truly, there’s nothing like magic. 

“You got my name right, that’s a first,” he mockingly replies. but the doesn’t look like he’s any phased by it. Has Clint seen this guy before, anyway? He feels like he has. “What’s your name, handsome?” he asks. Worth a shot, he thinks.

“None of your business,” the agent replies, nonchalantly, before continuing reading up from the file. “You’re charged with three counts of breaking and entering, two counts of grand theft auto-”-“damn right!”-“ and one count of murder-”

“If I could just, just a second,” Clint starts, leaning forward. “The last one? He was a mob boss, and to be honest, I only helped the Punisher a little. I don’t think that I’m the one who should be charged with the murder, anyway,” he says, and the officer’s sole reaction is a raised eyebrow. 

“The Punisher kills people like you,” the Agent replies, unimpressed, but Clint just rolls his eyes. Typical reaction. 

“Seriously, are you SHIELD? Or just NYPD? Because, I’m pretty sure that you’re out of your depths here, kiddo,” Clint replies, interrupting the Agent before he’s even spoken. 

“You’d be surprised at how many people are looking for you, Barton.” 

Clint laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. But, to be honest, I’m more of a- how do you say? Get away with it, kind of guy.”

“Not this time, though.” 

Oh, this is boring. Clint is bored now. “Seriously? Just get my lawyer, she’ll know how to figure this out.” The Agent looks over at the mirror - see through, of course, but Clint knows that. Maybe there’s a signal he’s supposed to wait for, but the door buzzes, and in comes She. The One and Only. Clint smiles, but she keeps her face composed. 

The next thirty seconds go by so fast that even Nick Fury isn’t even sure whatever happened- he’s rewatched the footage, but for some reason the audio botched out, and none of their technicians, not even the Black Widow, has been able to repair it. 

“Why’d they drop the charges again?” Maria asks, but she knows. It’s always the same. 

Clint walked out of the precinct with a black eye, following his lawyer, the same it’s always been. She’s got a name, alright, but SHIELD is currently digging to try and figure out who she really is. In the meantime, they’re trying to figure out what that teenage girl was doing at the precinct, wearing a baseball cap and playing with a pen. Facial recognition says she’s unknown, but Nick is pretty sure he’s seen her before. Maybe in some of HYDRA’s files. 

It’s Melinda who figures it out, though. When the young girl flicks her wrist, the audio of the camera mutes, and Barton and his lawyer make their move. 

*

“Well done, Wanda,” Laura says, as they sit on the porch of their house, a toddler in her arms. “Didn’t think you’d manage to make the kid hit Clint that hard,” she adds, looking over at her husband, sporting an amazingly huge black eye. 

Wanda laughs. “I took it as a challenge,” she replies, with that accent of hers. Clint nods, proudly. Good thing they took her and his brother in, after Strucker was killed in that stupid Avenger feud. Could learn a little bit from small town criminals, couldn’t they?

Send me an anonymous ask completing the sentence “I wish you would write a fic where…”

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I wish you would write a fic where: Clint is the witch hunter and Laura is the white witch, and it's set in modern times.

“You’d think it was easier to be a hunter of the magic and the occult in today’s times,” he mutters to himself, as he kicks an unrecognizable substance to the side with his boot. He bends forward and grips the shaft of the arrow, and pulls back - he grimaces at the suction noise it makes when the arrowhead comes out of the- well, the thing. 

He wipes it off in the corner of his leather jacket, and looks around him. The bow is firmly strapped across his chest, and he swiftly throws the arrow back into the quiver on his hip. He quickly dismantles the lid of the tubular quiver, and shuts it - that way, it looks like a tube carrying drawings. It’s a lot less inconspicuous in rush hour. He goes down on one knee and nocks the string off the bow, and quickly dismantles it, throwing it into the backpack he’s carrying around, keeping the string in his front pocket.

He’s been hunting this thing for weeks now. It came through the conversion, when the skies opened after someone opened a portal in the sky above New York. Like fucking leeches, they’ve been showing up in the city, trying to find the source. Clint spits, as he strokes his cheeks, frowning when he realizes he’s cut himself somehow. “Fuck,” he tells himself, as he cracks his neck, he’s been feeling sore lately.

“Need a hand?” 

His eyes immediately scan the environment, but there’s nobody there. He turns around several times, before shaking his head. He’s hearing things now. He looks up at the sky - in spite of the smog, the fucking smog, he can see the moon. It’s taunting him. He spits again, as he sends one last look around him. “Fuck off,” he says to no one, and turns to walk away.

He feels the red creep inside his mind before he sees the girl, though- she’s young, too young to be any danger he thinks, but he can feel her, inside his head, going through his memories, and in spite of learning every single trick there is, he can’t close the doors.

“Wanda, that’s enough,” the voice from before says again, and the red smokes disappears from his mind, but he soon realizes that he can’t move. He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. Maybe this is how he dies.

“It’s not, though,” she says and he opens his eyes again- she can read his thoughts? 

“We both can,” the girl whose hands are glowing red says, with a smile. He looks down again, at her, and frowns. He wants to spit. Witches and magicians are no good for anyone. 

“If you promise not to kill us, we promise to help you find a way to break this…” She steps forward from the shadows and Clint feels as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Well, he has, he’s seen a vampire once, and she was the most beautiful thing in the world - Natasha, her name had been, and she’d let him go after he’d taken care of a ghost haunting her. 

“We promise to help you find a way to break your own curse,” she says, and he feels his free will come back when the younger girl lets go of him. 

“I ain’t got no curse,” he says again, but her eyebrow raises as he looks up at the sky, like it betrayed him. 

“The moon can be a great ally, even to those like you.”

“That’s bullshit,” he barks back, and she laughs. The girl, Wanda, laughs as well. 

“Who’d have thought that the Great Hawkeye was carrying his own little magic around?” she mocks, and he feels the wish to put an arrow through her head. For decades, he’s escaped that. Giving up his secret. The reason why he’s hunting witches and sorcerers and whisperers, the reason he’s been turning every single stone he can find, is to put an arrow through the eye of the one who gave him this-

Wanda pulls at nothing and he gets pulled forward by gravity, and his knees his the ground before he can even try to break the fall with his hands. 

Fuck. 

Send me an anonymous ask completing the sentence “I wish you would write a fic where…”