(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
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@thearrowfell
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol’ Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I’ve always wanted. I’ve moved here permanently! ))
(( New url! Good ol' Clint Barton plus a handful of new muses I've always wanted. I've moved here permanently! ))
(( Okay, so. Here’s the deal.
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(( Okay, so. Here's the deal.
I'm moving to a new blog to regain that fresh-slate feeling I got when I first moved to thearrowfell. Clint is going to remain the same relationship/ship/thread-wise and will still be in his current arc. Consider this a location change, not a character reset. I'm going to try very hard to bring back the action threads I used to do with him all the time.
There's one new thing though-- this new blog is multi-muse. I've wanted a handful of other muses for a long time now but haven't felt capable because I hate having to juggle 10 tumblr accounts. SO, this new blog will be a conglomerate of 7 muses: Clint Barton, Danny Rand, Ororo Munroe, T'Challa, Stephen Strange, James Rhodes and, even though he isn't Marvel, Daryl Dixon. There are still pages missing regarding some of the new muses and it may take me some time to get used to them all (Daryl and Clint are already pretty easy for me to play) but I'd love to get them all going with threads and such as long as you're willing to be patient with me.
If you're interested, that's awesome. We should plot. Or, hell, I'd even be happy with greeter threads.
I will likely only be on this old blog now to check for replies to threads so that I can carry them over to the new blog, but otherwise I won't be roleplaying from here anymore. Sorry if I cause any frustration because of this, but, if nothing else, this is to help keep me happy with roleplaying.
Love you all! Thanks!
escriptus ))
Put "Lucky Me" to my askbox and see what you'll get
1st person owns my muse handcuffed for 3 days
2nd person has my muse as their prisoner for 24 hours
3rd person gets kiss from my muse
4th person gets hug from my muse
5th person has my muse as their pet for week
6th person gets bitten by my muse
7th person gets letter from my muse (love letter, goodbye letter, hate letter, whatever comes to my mind)
8th person will get a dinner with my muse
9th person can choose any of the above
Tony looked down at his glass for a moment, swirling the amber liquid almost absently, before he shifted his gaze back to the man sitting beside him. “I do and I don’t. We’ll get there, absolutely. But they’re leagues ahead of us, Clint, we won’t catch up. We’ll get commercial space travel or whatever, but I don’t think we’ll get to their level for a very, very long time. And then they’ll have likely moved on by then.”
He lifted his glass to his lips, taking a sip before humming. “You’re not. And I would, but there’s still tech of mine I want to keep to myself. Plus I hate working with the Government.”
The glass in Clint's hand was tilted, a sign of agreement. Clint, too, felt disfavor for government interaction; whether this stemmed from being in their crosshairs too often for his liking or from something else, it wouldn't be said. There was no reason to go into that. "Okay, point. It seems kinda weird, hearing you give so much credit to aliens,"
A glance is thrown sideways at Stark, troublesome and smart-ass-esque. "I mean, you're usually pretty damn sure about how awesome you are. Giving the credit to someone else, huh?"
✢
My muse’s reaction to seeing yours on their doorstep, soaking wet from the rain.
Tony yawned as he opened his door, blinking a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes, before they landed on Clint’s form.
"Clint—?" He frowned, hooking his hand under the man’s bicep to drag him inside and push the door closed.
"What the hell are you doing out there in the rain?" He guided him further inside, retrieving some towels from the bathroom before pushing Clint toward the bedroom.
"Come on, we’ll get you some dry clothes, you moron."
Tony just waited, one hand resting on his hip as the other held Clint’s shirt. He could see easily what was happening— He’d been in Clint’s current position and mood many times before. Drink made sense when you were in a bad mood, and then you ended up doing stupid things like standing out in the rain. It was strange being the responsible one for once. He wasn’t sure he liked it.
"I know." He took the pants from Clint, setting the dry clothes down beside the man for him to put on at his leisure. "I’ll be right back, get yourself dressed." He exited the room to go find the dryer, dumping Clint’s clothes in there before having JARVIS set it on the right settings and start it up. He didn’t use it. He made his way through to the kitchen next, pouring out two cups of coffee.
So, there Clint sat, almost completely nude on poor Tony Stark's expensive carpet, covering and drying himself almost carelessly with the towel he'd been granted. He spent a few more minutes continuing all of this, making sure he wasn't going to be uncomfortable in clean-but-damp clothes. The drink floating about his system made it feel like too long and he rushed getting the clothes on after Stark left, ending up with the shirt backwards and the pants turned awkwardly. But it was good enough and he was warm and dry again and he was still quite a bit drunk and it was the stage before the hangover, so..
Eventually, when the goosebumps had slid from his skin and the warmth crept back into his bones, Clint made it to the kitchen. The smell of coffee had drawn him there like a cartoon dog, except for the levitating a foot off of the floor. "Coffee."
how strong are you now?
James hadn’t meant to embarrass him, maybe the compliments and the sappy honesty should be locked away until things weren’t so fresh in their minds. “Sorry.” Shaking his head he glanced away back down to the ground only to switch to Amna when she became slightly impatient which made him want to let go of Clint’s hand even more. If ever he had felt like a burden it was right now. He barely noticed how tight his grip was on Clint’s hand until his partner spoke and he dragged his gaze away from Amna.
"What?" The words took a few seconds before he nodded in agreement. "Please." Pills would be wonderful, hell he’d even take a few bottles of vodka and leave it at that. And yet he also enjoyed the pain, it would hopefully stick and teach him not to do something to utterly ridiculous like that ever again so he would take it. "You know if you want to go ahead and get things I-I can just hand back and catch up?" he offered though he didn’t look up, merely glancing around at their surroundings warily yet he saw no threats. It was then that he realised and quickly slackened his grip on Clint’s hand. “Sorry, sorry.” Shaking his head James ended up letting out a dry laugh. “I feel like an old man with a broken hip or something and you’re my hot help nurse taking me to get my pills.”
On the contrary-- Clint liked the sap. Though a bit different from their usual interaction, from before all of this, it was just enough over the top to make this reality of fixing and trying-to-get-fixed a wonderful dream. He didn't want to wake from it; not just yet. Likewise, it'd probably take a bit of time to recover his usual witty, sarcastic response to the sap. Right now he was aware of how unlike him it was to avert his gaze in the face of compliment, and he hated it, but nothing was normal anymore. Maybe, someday soon, it would turn normal again, and James would see that cocky smirk once again swim easily back onto Clint's face.
And he's looking back now, his attention drawn to James with his partner's words, the hint of a tilt applied to Clint's head. "..I'm not going anywhere," He announced, eyeing James closely. Despite the tightening and loosening grip on his hand, some of it painful and some of it too loose for comfort, he held his own grip stubbornly, refusing to let James' hand go. "I'll walk two inches an hour if I have to. Don't you even think about letting go of my hand." The teasing was there, like in old times, but the listlessness in his voice took away much of the effect. "Just keep on thinking about that nurse fantasy you've got going and we'll reach the pharmacy in no time."