#THIS POST IS ABOUT CLINTON (FRANCIS) BARTON

[full-moon-ships]

Francis hmu

#THIS POST IS ABOUT CLINTON (FRANCIS) BARTON #but also about. francis g castiglione #rowan rambles #🏹The arrow through my heart🏹 [Clint]

[intosnarkness]

WIP Title Ask Meme

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Jesper Sequel

10 Things AU

Magical Realism? Kaz

And some that just haven't been moved to deletes:

4. Going to hell 5. SteveTasha doing sex 6. the increasingly bad decisions of clinton francis barton, avenger

Tagging @maybetwice, @wheremermaidsdwell, @hsavinien and IDK who else is writing these days but do the thing if you want to.

#meme #anon is on if you're shy

[starsnheroes]

SIX YEARS WAS LONG ENOUGH. Six years was the decided CUT OFF for one Clinton Francis Barton. No more will Leonard put up with his shit! No more will he live in UTTER FEAR. No today was the end, so maybe Leonard had pulled a few strings, and maybe forged one or two signatures (one of them being Clint's) but WHOSE TO SAY.

It all was worth it, or at least THAT WAS THE HOPE. That was the thought as he walked into morning yoga (late.) with TWO dogs in tow rather than the usual one. Right behind Luna was another dog, who almost seemed to KNOW who he belonged to and came wandering it's way over to Clint.

It had been a hard year, and Clint was STRUGGLING and Leonard had never been a fan of feeling HELPLESS. So he had taken upon himself to do whatever he needed to do to get Clint his own fully trained emotional support dog.

// i'm still sleepy so the tone is all over the place but listen listen listen. I just decided that with post beyond Leonard is just finally like NOPE NO MORE U NEED ONE so clint gets a dog because i said so.

@thefleetsfinest

The feeling still wasn't right to get up in the morning, as he tries to get back into the routines and the things that helped him before he fell, and that was a hard fall to handle. SIX YEARS. He was still too stunned with the fall that he hasn't managed to scrap himself off the ground yet.

It's with guilt that he was here, and he still hasn't been able to quit again. That seems to be a lot harder than he thought it was going, but he hates it. Hates every single long night that he can't handle it and swallow down the feeling dry and remain sober. Last time they docked anywhere he had smuggled his own finds in and the fact that his boyfriend knew all the hidey holes was no longer fun.

It was no longer kissing spots, but where he could hide his shame and wallow. Clint know how hard it was, and than when he had finally managed six months, it turned to a year and six years later. That was hard, and right now as he was sitting and staring at the wall?

Getting back on, and putting himself together. Going more than a week, more than two weeks and than even trying to get back to what he had managed. IT ALL SEEMED DAUNTING. So much more daunting the black emptiness of space, the one that caused shivers down his spine, space the thing feared by him and. . . . Where was he?

They had been over this before, over the years when it was their days, yoga and mediation days, that sometimes other things and other people came up. That he couldn't. . . . ASSHOLE MADE HIM GET BACK INTO DOING THESE ⸻ And he isn't even showing up.

Clint's about five minutes away from doing anything, stewing in bitterly about Leonard not making it. He barely even hear the door slide open, he rarely did anyways and Clint scoffs ready for whatever excuse was coming.

EXCEPT ⸻ there's Luna, which is absolutely one of the better perks about his friendship formed with the chief medical officer. He suppose there are other benefits, but point stands. He missed dogs and Earth ground. Dogs, and than there's another one. A small-to-medium size black and white dog, looks like border collie, following and. . . .

He doesn't know what to thinks or say, ❝ I definitely got some sleep, so I can't be hallucinating. ❞ Not the best thing to say, but there were no illusions to be had here. He was trying, and it was hard; and he had to be honest before he got worse, had to quit, before it caused him real trouble. Before he created more trouble for himself.

❝ Who is that? ❞ ⸻ Clint knows that Leonard cares about how he was doing, let him get away with a few things, and it's not because of the doctor thing. It was the friend thing, the sobber buddy thing which he wasn't sure when he's not what hi sober was suppose to look like.

He definitely feels himself start to choke up as the border collie goes right up to him, and the dog is happy as can be, licking his hands and face; and it's kind of overwhelming in that way that dogs could be and loving/accepting in that immediate way.

Clint swallows, and if he thinks Leonard say what he is about to say he may cry. And he has managed to keep a minimum of who he cries in front of and how often, to which that minimal was one maybe a once a year.

#clint is gonna break down in front of leonard the moment that he confirms it #like DAMMIT LEONARD things have been tough and he needs the help #ic; clint barton #asks; clint barton #thefleetsfinest #clint barton; thefleetsfinest #rp; thefleetsfinest #dynamics; thefleetsfinest; it ain't heavy when you got a friend (recovery buddies) #also finally figured out the tag for leonard and clint :D #verse; clint barton; to boldly go (ss; crisispider)

[queendrinkswater]

I'm just a simple girl. In love with a dumpster fire

#This post is about Clinton Francis Barton #He pretty #He strong #He turn his hearing aids off

[izzyrenee13]

MORPHO CLINT BARTON X OC

Chapter One

November 9, 2006; 7:15AM

I woke up to my dad shaking my bed.

“WAKE UP. WAKE UP. YOU’RE AN ADULT NOW.” Now I understand not everyone has Tony Stark waking them up on their 18th birthday, and most people would be ecstatic, but to me it’s just annoying.

I open my eyes and give the man a death glare, slowly turning into a smile when I realize what he means. Today’s my eighteenth birthday, meaning I have meetings all day with people my father knows and want to wish me a happy birthday, then a huge celebration tonight with everyone my father could possibly know and invite. It’s how Tony Stark did things.

12:25 PM

I finally got a break from meeting after meeting, which is basically about my father introducing me to Stark Industry clients so I can help run the family business. I decided to go down the street to my favorite small diner and grab some lunch.

I had just ordered my usual cheeseburger with tater tots and a large vanilla shake when I noticed a large figure sit down across from me. I looked up and noticed it was the one and only Nicholas Joseph Fury.

I put the newspaper I was reading, got up and gave him a small side hug “Uncle Nick! I’m so excited you came all the way to New York to see me.”

He smiled, hugged me back, “Well, I did have to come see you on your eighteenth birthday, you know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I circled back around the table to sit down. “I also have a, what you call, job offer? Proposition?”

The waiter came back with my food, and I started eating. I knew exactly what Nick wanted, and I knew my answer already. “I’ll do it, but you have to tell my father.” He stole one of my fries, “also, you cannot exploit my abnormalities to the world, especially not the government other than the security panel. You know what will happen if you do. A rogue Stark is not something you want.”

“Of course, Elizabeth.” He stole another one of my fries and continued, “You’ll be training with one of my best agents. He might go a little hard on you at first, but be nice, he just got divorced, he’s going through it.”

“I’ll be nice, but tell me, why did you not wait until the meeting we have scheduled in,” I checked my watch, “30 minutes, to ask me?”

“Tony was going to be there. I knew it would be easier to ask you alone, but work out fine details with Tony,” he started to explain as I finished my food, “like, for the first six weeks, I’d want you at the Triskelion, training with Agent Barton, rooming and occasionally training with Agent Romanoff, all while we monitor your skills and powers.”

“Wait, I’m only comfortable with you, Barton and Romanoff monitoring my abnormalities,” I started to get a little panicked, “so please tell me it’ll be one of you, you preferably.”

“Of course, It’ll be all three of us, so you’ll be safe.” He calmed me down.

I checked my watch and realized it was time to head back to Stark Industries for my second round of birthday meetings. I have a feeling most 18-year-olds don’t celebrate this way.

1:00 PM

I arrived in the meeting room about five minutes ago, and was just making small talk with my father when Nick Fury walked into Meeting Room B.

“My favorite buyer!” My dad greeted him with his signature smirk. Fury nodded and mumbled a greeting, I felt the tension thicken in the room as soon as Nick put the file on the table, “No. She’s not doing it.”

“She already said yes, Stark,” he looked at my father, who was now gaping at me. “I just wanted you to be here to discuss the finer details, like living arrangements, pay, and monitoring her powers.”

“I’d like to speak for myself, if that’s okay,” I started. “Dad, I know you aren’t going to be happy, but I’ve made my decision, I’m going to work for SHIELD. I want to do something good with whatever is wrong with me. I want to fight for the innocent. I want to use my abnormalities for something that won’t make me feel like there’s something wrong with me. I know you wanted me to work at Stark Industries, and I’ll stop by to help out every now and then. I’ll still be your little girl, but I have to grow up.” I started to get overly emotional, which was ever good, as my hands started to glow and my brown eyes turned blue.

“Okay, okay. I understand, I just wish YOU would have told me, not Fury.”

~

After a long meeting, and cancelling my other meetings, we finally figured out everything we needed to. I was to move into the SHIELD apartments, but would still have a home with my dad, pay was figured out. It was exhausting, two men with the biggest egos I’ve ever seen, fighting over MY life. Once we were finished it was time to relax and go get ready for the night’s activities.

4:00 PM

I was in my suite, packing up what I’d need for the next six weeks, as I was leaving right after the party with Agent Barton. I mainly packed workout attire, as Fury said that I’d only get every other Sunday off from training. I packed a couple of my business-type dresses for any formal meetings I’m bound to have to attend.

After I was done packing, I started to get ready for the party. I chose one of my more simple cocktail dresses, it was a dark purple, hugged my upper body until it got to my waist, then flowed into a gorgeous skirt with a slit up to my thigh. I paired it with some black strappy heels that weren’t too high, my gun in a thigh holster, which of course was on the hidden thigh, and the necklace Pepper gave me this morning at breakfast. As for my makeup, I did a smoky eye with red lipstick and minimal face makeup.

5:10 PM

Now that I was fashionably late to my own birthday party, I made a beeline to the bar and asked the bartender for a virgin pina colada, which is just pineapple juice and coconut syrup, but it was still yummy. I don’t like to drink, it impairs your thinking, and growing up a Stark, the 16 years of self defense and combat classes taught me to never impair my thinking.

I looked around the room and spotted Agent Coulson, my father, Nick Fury, and another man in the corner talking. I made my way over to them, “Sorry for interrupting, but I wanted to make sure Dad knew I was here.”

“Ah, my lovely daughter finally decided to join us!” I could tell my dad was already tipsy, “You know Phil and Nick, have you met Clint?” I looked at the undeniably gorgeous man with the trio and shook my head.

“I don’t think I have,” I turned to him and stuck out my hand, “Elizabeth Maria Stark, but please call me Liza.”

He took my hand and shook it, a smirk appearing on his face. “Clinton Francis Barton, call me Clint.”

“We’re gonna leave you two to chat, I have to make rounds and these two,” Dad patted Nick and Phil on the back, “owe me a drink.” With that the three of them walked away.

“So you’re Agent Barton,” I turned and looked out over the party from the balcony we were on. “You’re my trainer, and hopefully future friend?” I knew he was 15 years older than me, but I also knew having friends in SHIELD was going to be needed.

“That I am, and why does it have to be future?” He questioned.

“Oh it doesn’t, I just thought--” I got flustered and looked at him.

“I’m teasing you, Liza. Of course I’ll be your friend, being a new agent recruit is not easy, and it’s always easier if you have someone to trust.” He smiled and took a drink of what I assumed to be whiskey.

“Gosh, I’m sorry I’m so awkward. I haven’t had much social interaction outside of business meetings and combat training my whole life, with the overprotective father and all.” As I said that, something seemed to peak his interest.

“Combat training? Why would you do that?” He asked, and I could tell he wasn’t trying to get intel on the new girl, but was genuinely curious.

“My dad always told me it was for my best interest. Which, now, I understand why,” I took a drink of my drink and moved to sit down on the couch we were in front of. “My father is Tony Stark, the world’s leading weapons dealer. I grew up going to weapons conventions, expos and meetings with sketchy people. I had to know how to fight, shoot, and control my abnormalities.”

Clint sat across from me and interrupted me, “Abnormalities?”

“Yeah, so I have these--uh--powers I guess. I can shapeshift, teleport, cast illusions, do some healing and some other basic stuff,” I started explaining, my voice barely above a whisper. Clint looked shocked to say the least, yet I continued, “I’ll show them all to you soon, in training. But like I was saying, if people found out I could do these things, I’d be taken, experimented on, and the sorts. The only people who know about these things now are my father, you, Fury, Coulson and Pepper. So I have skills, and training me won’t be hard, I promise”

After that conversation Clint and I played 21 questions, just to get to know each other. By the end of the night, we were basically best friends. It was weird, as people who weren’t open books, we sure opened up to each other quickly. It was almost like there was some sort of soul connection there, but I’d be too terrified to act on it, if I ever caught feelings because--well this man was 15 years older than me, and a Level 7 agent, and my mentor basically.

I just pushed that thought out of my head, for the years to come, and went on with my night, ending it in my new room as a SHIELD agent.

------------------------------------------------

MASTER LIST

A/N: Hey guys. I'm cross posting this fic on wattpad and (maybe) AO3. Please comment, request one-shots, interact with me in any way.

Permanent Taglist: @hawkeyesbabe

#clint barton #tony stark #natasha romanov #pepper potts #avengers #iron man #the avengers #hawkeye #hawkeye x oc #clint barton x oc #fanfiction #fanfic

[what2finish]

Creator Post: Rudearrow

Rudearrow’s WTF Creator Post (Auction #1001, #1002)

Creator’s previous works: Here!

Link to GDrive Folder of WIP Summaries/HCs/Plot Bunnies Creator is Offering: Here! 

you can contact the creator before bidding at:

email: [email protected]

Likes:  fantasy au, sci-fi au, plotfic/casefic, found family, Redemption Arc With Hard Work, Demonstrating Contrition, and Learning to Love Yourself(tm), wingfic, lesser known pairings and characters, crossovers, whacky ideas taken seriously, whacky ideas taken whackily, bdsm

Do Not Wants: no non-con, torture, incest, or underage. no harder kinks, ie: scat, waterworks, gore, etc.

Preferred Charities of the creator: Any

Full Charities List

___

Auction #1

Type of fanwork: fanfiction

Fandom: Marvel, DC, Stranger Things, Game of Thrones, Supernatural, Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed, (honestly, just email me if you like my writing... if I know your canon, I'm probably down)

Pairing(s): I'm a multi-shipper who loves underdog/rarepairs, existing WIPs are for Winterhawk, Winteriron, Winterironhawk, Robb/Theon, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Dean Winchester. Platonic/grey-ace pairings welcome!

Character(s): there isn't a character from any of the canons listed that I won't write

Rating: General, Teen, Mature

Marvel WIPs:

Crimson & Clover: Urban Fantasy AU; 616 Clint & Bucky, endgame Winterhawk. Clint Barton has finally done the Right Thing(tm) and left his life of petty crime with Cirque du Nuit behind him. He’s got a GED, a bow, and coffee- and not much else. In the process of rebuilding his life, he runs into a not-so-tall, dark, and handsome stranger. Literally. He thinks a spilled latte and a bump on the head will be the end of his encounter, but with each successive run-in, he realizes that maybe luck just isn’t on his side and outrunning his past might not be in the cards after all. Current WC: 15k.

Half-splitting the Problem: Winteriron canon reversal! Feared dead after an attack on his convoy in Afghanistan nearly three months ago, the CEO of Barnes Industries has once again defied expectations. Having survived the attack and his subsequent captivity by the terrorist organization, The Ten Rings, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes has returned to American soil and turned his company upside down. Tony Stark, a young man from humble means with few options, has been working his internship with SI R&D for nearly a year now. He’s noticed activities that can only be described as ‘iffy’ at best, but with a boatload of student debt and a work history peppered with reprimands and missed deadlines he’s decided to keep his head down for the almighty dollar and hope for the best... Until he stumbles across Obadiah Stane’s personal project. Current WC: 1.5k

Seraphic (Hallowed Incorporeal Entities) Liaison Division, AKA: S.H.I.E.L.D.: Winterironhawk wingfic! Bucky Barnes has been assigned a new Seraph partner and he’s not happy about it. Tony Stark is that  Seraph and while he’s not thrilled either, it really is a lot of fun to push Barnes’s buttons. Clinton Francis Barton, unbeknownst to him, is their first assigned charge. And honestly? He could use all the help S.H.I.E.L.D. can spare. Current WC: 3k

Misadventures in Solitude: Clint Barton-centric, fwb Winterhawk, open to endgame romantic Winterhawk, alternative Clint pairing (except Nat. Sorry, for me they are always platonic soul mates), and/or poly. Just a day in the life of Clint Barton, coffee-riddled, exhausted corporate cog. He did all the “right” things- went to school, got a decent white-collar job, moved to the big city- so why is he so unhappy? And lost. Except, shit... he’s actually lost. Where the futz is he? Current WC: 1.5k

Part I:  The Space Between Us: 616 Winterhawk; Space! Kidnapped Clint! BDSM. This is technically part one to the fic I finished a few months ago on my linked Ao3, Show Me the Miles. Bucky has been chosen for the “away team”, as Stark likes to call it. While Bucky is bored almost to tears watching Stark and Rogers schmooze with extraterrestrial royalty, Clint is snatched while on a milk run mission back on Earth. Bucky, suffice it to say, doesn’t exactly take the news well. Current WC: 5.5k

Marvel HC:

Fairytale Winteriron AU: Bucky/Tony Bucky is a sprite with moth wings. Tony is a sprite with butterfly wings. Their peoples have centuries of animosity and sharp words for each other. Then ‘the fire(fly) nation attacked’ and [choose which one here] is injured, only to be saved by the other! Begrudging friendship and appreciation turn into more. Endgame is sprites in love. \o/ 

Completion WC Estimates:

Crimson & Clover, Estimated 40k+ upon completion. 

Half-splitting the Problem, Estimated 15-20k upon completion. 

Seraphic (Hallowed Incorporeal Entities) Liaison Division, AKA: S.H.I.E.L.D., Estimated 20k+ upon completion. 

Misadventures in Solitude, Estimated 10k+ upon completion.

Part I: The Space Between Us, Estimated 15-20k upon completion.

Fairytale Winteriron AU HC, Estimated 15-20k upon completion.

GOT WIP:

Manual for Spaceship Westeros: Robb/Theon; Space Colony Au! There is tension between the loose planetary alliance that calls itself Westeros. Robb Stark, as the only full-blood Stark son of age, is sent to negotiate a stronger alliance with Iron Born, a terrifying clan who has made a small water planet habitable through the genetic modification of its ancestors, sweat, and blood. Robb arrives to seek an audience with The Greyjoy and make his offer- the hand of his sister Sansa. But The Greyjoy deems this insufficient and Robb quickly finds himself on the offering plate. Current WC 2k.

Completion WC Estimate: 20-25k

Stranger Things & Supernatural: 

Billy Dean Was My Lover (working tongue in cheek title): main pairing Steve/Billy (possibly Steve/Billy/Dean?); Billy/Dean; crossover plot-ish fic! When his dad called and ordered Dean to pack up Sam then head for the Midwest, he didn’t ask questions. Apparently, strange things were happening in small town Indiana; which was usually a Winchester’s bread and butter. Yet even Dean and Sam aren’t quite prepared for the kind of strange Hawkins has, especially with John failing to meet them at the town’s motel. But there was something even more surprising than the super-powered teenage girl and a whole new world of monsters... 

Hearing the name of Dean’s tape-swap penpal out of some preppy, polo-wearing guy’s mouth. Current WC 1k.

WILDCARD, AKA: ANY HC/PROMPT FOR THE ABOVE PAIRINGS AND FANDOMS LISTED.

If you like my writing but aren’t into the WIPs here, I will write a fic that is a minimum of 10k for any character, ship, platonic pair, for any of the fandoms listed above. I’m also happy to write for material/canon I know but that isn’t listed above. If I know it well enough, I’ll write it for you! (Exception being RPS.) Just message me if you’re curious and I’ll confirm that I’m familiar with the source material. :)

Starting Bid: $10

Creator Notes:

Like my fellow mod, Mei, I am willing to work my winner's likes into my stories and am open to brainstorming sessions!

Feel free to email me to learn more about any of the WIPs stories and if you like, I will give you my Discord handle. I am willing to work with my winner's pairings as long as they don't fall into my DNWs. For Marvel the only two pairings (of the ones I am most familiar) that I just cannot see romantically/sexually are Clint/Natasha and Bucky/Steve.

Current Bid Spreadsheet: Here.

Please check what the current bid is at before bidding.

Bids might take a few minutes to load.

Bidding ends on November 28th 11:59:00pm CST. The highest bid before that deadline will win the auction.

Bidding Form: Here.

Please check the Bid Spreadsheet and bid higher than the previous bid.

You will not be notified if you have been outbid. Only the winner will be notified after bidding ends.

___

Auction #2

Type of fanwork: fanfiction

Fandom: Marvel, DC, Stranger Things, Game of Thrones, Supernatural, Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed, (honestly, just email me if you like my writing... if I know your canon, I'm probably down)

Pairing(s): I'm a multi-shipper who loves underdog/rarepairs, existing WIPs are for Winterhawk, Winteriron, Winterironhawk, Robb/Theon, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Dean Winchester. Platonic/grey-ace pairings welcome!

Character(s): there isn't a character from any of the canons listed that I won't write

Rating: General, Teen, Mature

WIPs/Prompt:

Literally the same as Auction #1!

Staring Bid: $10

Creator Notes:

Like my fellow mod, Mei, I am willing to work my winner's likes into my stories and am open to brainstorming sessions!

Feel free to email me to learn more about any of the WIPs stories and if you like, I will give you my Discord handle. I am willing to work with my winner's pairings as long as they don't fall into my DNWs. For Marvel the only two pairings (of the ones I am most familiar) that I just cannot see romantically/sexually are Clint/Natasha and Bucky/Steve.

**In the unlikely event that both winning bidders want the same fic and you don’t want any of the other WIPs listed, I will offer up a fic of equal or greater length for whatever HC you desire. Within, of course, the same DNW parameters listed above. This includes the Wild Card option!**

Current Bid Spreadsheet: Here.

Please check what the current bid is at before bidding.

Bids might take a few minutes to load.

Bidding ends on November 28th 11:59:00pm CST. The highest bid before that deadline will win the auction.

Bidding Form: Here.

Please check the Bid Spreadsheet and bid higher than the previous bid.

You will not be notified if you have been outbid. Only the winner will be notified after bidding ends.

#rudearrow #fanfiction #marvel comics #marvel #marvel: ambiguous #dceu #got #winteriron #winterironhawk #stranger things #the untamed #supernatural #any fandom #clint barton #bucky barnes #tony stark #winterhawk #wtf philippines relief #WTF creator post #fandom event #charity auction #1001 #1002 #mod example

[hawkaye]

tagged by @harknessjack thank you!!

rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

name/nickname: alice

gender: female - she/her

star sign: taurus

height: 1,70 m

time: 12:14

birthday: may 3rd

favorite bands: green day, linkin park, supercombo, bring me the horizon etc. 

favorite solo artists: i don’t think i have one?

song stuck in my head: none atm

last movie: i can’t remember lmao

last show: the legend of korra

when did i create this blog: 2010 💀

what do i post: a bit of everything i guess

last thing googled: munich tv movie

other blogs: @troybaker @beomgyu01 @mcavoyclub @killua-kun

do i get asks: nah lol

why i chose my url: bc i love the human disaster clinton francis barton

following: 373

followers: +5k

average hours of sleep: about 8 hrs

lucky number: -

Instruments: guitar

what am i wearing: red shirt and some comfy blue pants

dream job: -

dream trip: i really really wanna go to scotland

favorite food: ramen, gnocchi and ficazza 💕

nationality: brazilian

favorite song: j.o.s - green day 

last book read: the basic eight (i think)

top three fictional universes i’d like to live in: -

tagging @sonosions @bisexualsdean @jimimon @ramonda @ghostes (only if you guys want to!)

#tag thing

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

A look at Sean Moon’s “The Constitution of the United States of Cheon Il Guk.”

Right Wing Watch

A project of People for the American Way

Steve Bannon Tells Messianic Gun-Toting Conspiracy Theorists That the Left Wants to Steal Pennsylvania From Trump  

By Peter Montgomery   |   October 23, 2020 3:10 pm

Steve Bannon speaking at CPAC 2016. (Flickr.com/Gage Skidmore)

Former White House adviser Steve Bannon made a virtual appearance earlier this month at the Rod of Iron Freedom Festival in Pennsylvania, The Trace’s Champe Barton reported Thursday. The Rod of Iron rally was organized by two sons of the late Sun Myung Moon, a messianic Korean religious leader who founded and bankrolled the right-wing Washington Times newspaper. Bannon delivered a message seemingly meant to incite the several thousand attendees:  

“What the left intends to do — and you’re seeing it in Pennsylvania right now,” Bannon told the crowd. “Use the courts, use social media, use the mainstream media to try to make sure Trump is not declared the winner that night.” He said falsely that “uncertifiable” mail-in ballots would be used to “steal the presidency” away from Trump. “Look we’re going to win this thing,” he said. “Pennsylvania is the key that picks the lock for a second Trump term.”

The group is continuing to promote Trump. A group of South Korean and Japanese members of the Moons’ Rod of Iron Ministries—based in Newfoundland, Pennsylvania, about 25 miles south of Joe Biden’s hometown of Scranton—showed up outside an early-voting location in Wilkes-Barre on Thursday. Researcher Erin Gallagher called attention to Rod of Iron’s Pennsylvania activities in a Twitter thread Friday.

Tom Dunkel profiled Rod of Iron Ministries and the affiliated Sanctuary Church for the Washington Post Magazine in 2018, complete with photos of worshipers reverently carrying assault rifles. Pastor Hyung Jin “Sean” Moon, who says the 9/11 attacks were a “false flag,” had decided that a passage in the New Testament book of Revelation referring to the returning Christ ruling the Earth with “a rod of iron” was a reference to an AR-15. Pastor Sean’s sermon denounced the Democratic Party, George Soros, Hillary Clinton, and Pope Francis—who he called “a socialist, communist devil.”

Shortly before the 2016 election, Pastor Sean’s brother Kook-Jin “Justin” Moon called Hillary Clinton the “Fallen Eve” and Donald Trump an “Adam-type figure.” In Dunkel’s story, Justin sounds like a QAnon believer, saying there are “a lot of pedophiles in the Democratic Party” and they “realize that Trump is coming to get them. Literally. Round them up and put them in prison and execute them.”  

Rod of Iron Ministries offers training to “equip 2nd Amendment Christians with the tools and training that enable Patriots to grow closer to God while defending America’s founding principles.” The two brothers happen to own a gun manufacturer.  

According to the ministry’s website, Sean hosts a three-hour YouTube broadcast six days a week offering “spiritual guidance and political and social commentary from a biblical viewpoint.”  

The website also includes a link to “The Constitution of the United States of Cheon Il Guk.”

The preamble to the constitution explains that “Cheon Il Guk, The Kingdom of God (and/or Heaven), a sovereign and actual nation does not yet exist in this world, but is the long awaited culmination of the End of Time as prophesied in the Biblical Scripture.” It continues:

This Constitution is not an ecclesiastical Constitution of a church or religious body, but is a Constitution for a real and sovereign, future nation, being the literal fruit of God’s Providence. All history longs and awaits this future Kingdom of God.

At the end of the preamble, Hyung Jin Moon asserts a kingly and messianic role inherited from his father:

Now as I, Hyung Jin Moon, take my rightful place as King of the Second Kingship of the Kingdom of God, Cheon Il Guk, as the Crowned Successor and Representative Body of the Cosmic True Parents of Heaven and Earth and full Inheritor of the Kingship of God, with all the authority endowed in me by my Father, Sun Myung Moon—The True Father, Messiah, Lord at the Second Advent and King of Kings, hereby declare the following Immutable and Unchangeable, “Constitution of Cheon Il Guk,” that shall NEVER be abridged or added-to, in their enumerations.”

The “Constitution of the United States of Cheon Il Guk” borrows the structure of the U.S. Constitution, adapting the Bill of Rights, before the inclusion of sections explaining the authority of the king and the first “principle” focused on maintaining a “pure lineage” of God:

The Constitution of the United States of Cheon Il Guk

We the People of the United States of Cheon Il Guk (CIG), in order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish in Heavenly Father’s name this Constitution for the United States of CIG.

Principle I: Maintain the Pure Lineage of God

The division of the sexes being ordained by God where man is the subject partner and woman is the object partner, congress shall pass no law that contradicts this divine edict. Faithful marriage between a man and a woman being the ideal of God’s creation, the government of CIG will pass no law which interferes with or contradicts this Divine Law. The fruit of faithful marriage being the conception of children, congress shall pass no law which permits the injury to all persons born or unborn. Sexual abstinence before marriage being the ideal condition for newlyweds, congress shall pass no law supporting or giving aid to alternative life styles.

https://www.rightwingwatch.org/post/steve-bannon-tells-messianic-gun-toting-conspiracy-theorists-that-the-left-wants-to-steal-pennsylvania-from-trump/

______________________________________________

Sean Moon: “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” are bankers, the CIA, China and Islam.

Far-Right Gun Festival of Sean Moon and Justin Moon Boosts Election Conspiracy Theories

In Pennsylvania woods, church in 'spiritual battle' to re-elect Trump

#Sean Moon #CIG constitution #sanctuary church #Hyung Jin Moon #Kook Jin Moon #Justin Moon

[avengerscompound]

Legacy - Chapter 9

Legacy: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2185

Rating:  E

Square filled:   @clintbartonbingo - Free Space

Warnings:  Pregnancy, domestic abuse, post-endgame, angst, developing-relationship, hurt/comfort, smut, Laura and Clint have broken up.  Comic Clint/MCU Clint mix.

Synopsis: Nothing is the same after the events of Endgame.  When Clint has trouble returning to a life where his family hasn’t changed but he has lost everything, he moves back to the city and tries to move on as a single parent. When Nate finds you bruised and pregnant in the stairwell of his building, he decides that there might be another way that he can make Nat’s sacrifice worth something.

Chapter 9

You had fallen asleep not long after you’d been moved to your maternity room.  It was a nice room.  Clint putting you on his health insurance meant you got the best.  No point risking your life all the time if there weren’t some perks.  It had a queen-sized bed.  A proper bed too.  Not just one of those uncomfortable hospital ones with the wheels.  There was a comfortable chair specially designed for breastfeeding.  A couch for visitors.  A big screen tv.  There was a private bathroom that even had a spa, though Clint didn’t quite understand who would want to actually stew in a pool of still water after they’d given birth.

After they’d brought you back to the room you’d fretted about the baby for a while and then passed out exhausted.  He’d napped with you, curled around you protectively.  It had been a long day and he was exhausted after everything.

He didn’t sleep deeply and woke just a few hours later.  He wasn’t sure what exactly was keeping him awake.  Perhaps he was just worried about you and wanted to be awake to take care of you if he needed it.  Maybe it was that the baby wasn’t in the room with you both.  When Laura had given birth Nate he’d just been left with them.  Now he had a new baby and they just weren't here.

He got up and went to the hall.  It was busier out there with nursing staff moving around, babies crying, people taking little walks, flowers and teddy bears being delivered, and visitors coming to take a look at the new member of their family.  Clint made a few phone calls.  He called Laura first to check she made it to the kids okay and to let her know the baby was here. He spoke to the kids and told them about their new sister.  Then he called Kate to let her know too.  Finally, he rang Pepper.  You technically weren’t supposed to start your maternity leave for another week and while Pepper was way, way up the chain for who would actually be affected by you not showing up, he thought she might like to hear about the new baby Avenger.  He then texted some of the others to let them know too.  As soon as he did his phone began to buzz with congratulations.

It was touching that they cared really.  That even though the new baby wasn’t technically his, they were all on board with the idea that this baby was his.  That after all the death in the world they’d had to mourn, now they had a new life to celebrate.

After he’d made the calls he went for a short walk.  First to check on the baby.  She was so tiny and fragile looking as she slept in her incubator.  With what he knew about the Universe he hoped he was strong enough to protector her.  Or at least strong enough to know that sometimes you couldn’t and she’d have to live her own life too.  He ran his hand down her back and felt the small rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“You get big and strong, little one.  We want to take you home as soon as we can.”  He whispered.

After visiting with her he went for a walk to the cafeteria, grabbing himself a coffee and a danish.  He wanted to bring you back something too but was worried you might not be allowed to drink coffee yet and he also didn’t want to wake you.  So he grabbed a bottle of Snapple and a danish for you too before heading back upstairs.

There was a large edible arrangement sitting at the door with a big pink plush duck sitting on top.  He looked at the card and saw it was from Pepper.  He was glad that he’d organized those few playdates with Pepper.  It was good seeing Morgan and Nate playing together and he wanted to keep that bond with Pepper now that Tony was gone.  It was too easy to put those things off until the people in your life you considered your family were just a bunch of strangers you tell people are your friends.  They’d all been through too much and lost too much to let that happen.  He and Pepper had lost more than anyone.

He scooped it up and carried it inside the room, finding you sitting up in bed looking at your phone.  “There you are.  I was about to text you.”  You said.

“Sorry,”  Clint said sheepishly.  “Didn’t mean to worry you.  Just thought I’d check on the baby.”

“Who’s that from?”  You asked indicating to the bouquet made from chocolates.

“Pepper sent it.  Cool, huh?”  He said putting it on the ledge behind the bed.  “Got you a drink and a danish too.”  He added plopping both in your lap and kissing you on the top of your head.

“It’s awesome.”  You said.  “How’s bubs?”

“She seems fine.  Tiny but some of the babies in there are hooked up to a bunch of things, she’s not.  So I take that as a good sign.”  He said.

You smiled and took a swig from the bottle before dragging over a pile of paperwork.  “Nurse dropped this off while you were gone. It’s the birth certificate stuff.  You sure you want to go on this.  I can keep the name blank.”

“Will you stop that?”  Clint said.  “I don’t want her to think my involvement in her life comes with conditions.  Okay?  I’m her dad.”

You curled into his side and grabbed a pen, writing in Clinton Francis Barton under father.  You let out a breath when you did and turned your head up to look at him.  He leaned in and kissed you deeply, his thumb caressing your neck as his lips moved with yours.

You pulled back and tapped your pen on the form.  “So just the name then.”

“You didn’t have any names you’d talked about before?”  He asked.

“I never talked to Richard about them.  When I was a kid I guess I had some favorites.”  You said.  “I just… is it weird that I want to pay tribute to your friends?  Natasha particularly.  It feels like she’s the reason why we’re together.”

Clint let out a soft breath, tears pricking his eyes.  “Nat was always setting me up with people.”  He said.  “Still doing it, huh?”

You smiled and nuzzled into him.  “Feels that way.”  You said.  “The problem is having a Nat and a Nate would be a little confusing.”

“Her middle name was Alianova,”  Clint said.  “Maybe we could do something with that?”

You pulled out your phone and started typing into it.  “Huh.  This says that means her dad’s name was Alian.”

Clint furrowed his brow.  “That’s weird.  Red Skull said it was Ivan.”  He shook his head like he was trying to clear it.  He hated thinking about that moment.  Where he’d gone from being excited about flying an actual spaceship with his best friend, on his way to get his kids back to having to watch her die.  It didn’t matter what her father’s name was anyway.  She never knew who it was.

“Ali could be nice.”  You said.

“That’s normally short for something though.  What would it be short for?”  He said.

“It doesn’t have to be.  There’s a kid in New Zealand named ‘Number 16 Bus Shelter’.  I don’t think there’s anything stopping us from just calling her just Ali.”  You said.

Clint choked.  “That can’t be true.”

“It is!  So… what do you think?”   You said.

“About the name ‘Number 16 Bus Shelter’?  It’s a bit long.”  Clint teased.

You laughed and elbowed him.  “No.”

“If we’re just gonna give her a shortened name, why not Tasha?”  Clint said.

You looked back up at him and smiled.  “Tasha is good.  Works better with Antonia as a middle name too.”

Clint pulled you tight and kissed you again, holding you close.  He pulled back and looked down at you.  “I love you so fucking much, you know?”

“I love you too.”  You said, resting your head on his shoulder.  “So that’s what it is?  Tasha Antonia Barton?”

“Barton too?”  He said.

You pulled back from him pulling the papers closer.  “Shit.  Sorry.  I went too far, didn’t I?  It can be my name.”

Clint put his hand on yours.  It was scary really, but for some reason, he wasn’t second-guessing this at all.  “No.  I’d love for her to be a Barton.”

You kissed his cheek and filled in the name.  “Alright, you just gotta sign it and then we send it off.  Then that’s it.  She’ll have her name and you’re officially her dad.”

“Good,”  Clint said.  “We should do that right away then.”

There was a knock at the door and Laura peeked her head in.  “You up for visitors?”

“Sure.”  You said and she pushed the door open more letting in Cooper, Lila and Nate.

“We just finished naming her,”  Clint said as Nate climbed up into his lap.

“What did you choose?”  Lila asked as she put the large bouquet of sunflowers next to the edible one from Pepper.

“Tasha Antonia Barton,”  Clint said.  He noticed a look from Laura but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.  Surprise maybe.  She didn’t say anything though and he didn’t want to chase it.

“Where is she, daddy?”  Nate asked.

“She is very little and needs a bit of extra care so the doctors have her in a special room.  Do you want to go see her?”   Clint asked.

“Yes please, dad,”  Lila said.

Clint got up, lifting Nate onto his hip and pulling Lila into a headlock and kissing the top of her head.  “Alright, come on.  Are you coming to, hun?”

You got up out of the bed and pulled a robe on.  “Yes.  I might see if I can feed her.”

Your little group made your way down to the NICU.  When you got there the kids were looked over by a nurse, made to wash their hands and you were all led in.  “Here’s your little sister, Tasha,”  Clint said when they got to the incubator.

“What’s the fings for, daddy?”  Nate asked pointing at the wires that were attached to her.

“Just keeping track of her heart because she’s so small,”  Clint said.

“She’s really beautiful.  Congratulations.”  Laura said giving you a rub on the back.

“Thank you, Laura.”  You replied.

“Can we touch her?”  Lila asked.

“Yes, but gently just on her back,”  Clint said.

Each of the kids took turns putting a hand on her back and then Clint, Laura, and the kids were led out while you stayed behind and they put her against your chest to attempt breastfeeding.

Clint and Laura stood watching from the viewing window as you had Tasha tucked in under your shirt.  Laura sent the kids down to the vending machine in an attempt to stop them from getting bored.

“Did I tell you how proud I am of you?”  Laura said putting his arm around Clint’s waist.

Clint put his arm around her shoulder and she tucked herself into his side.  Something she had done a million times before.  “Yeah?”  He said.

“Yeah.  You've really stepped up.  You've always been such a good dad.  This is gonna be no different.”  She said.  “Nat would be proud of you too.”

“I hope so.”  He said, keeping his eyes trained on you.

“When Damien was killed, I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again.  Especially not with another SHIELD agent.  Then Nat pushed you at me, and you were such a huge dork but so good.  Not perfect but good.  You never pushed me faster than I could go.  You were always worried about us getting hurt.  Not just me, but the kids too.  I fell in love with you, and the kids did too in their own way.  When they asked if you'd adopt them you didn't even hesitate when you said yes.”  Laura said, wiping her eyes.

Clint felt his heart stutter a little and guilt start to creep in, guilt for everything that went wrong that meant he was not the man that could hold that together anymore.  His arm tightened around her shoulders.  She patted his stomach reassuringly and looked up at him.  “No one predicted the blip.  It's not your fault we couldn't last it.  I'm really happy you've found love again though.  You deserve it.  It gives me hope too, that I might get it again too.  Things can be found after what happened.”

Clint turned and looked at her, frowning slightly.  “Of course you can.  You're amazing, Laur.  You'll get someone who deserves you.  Someone who will actually be around.”

“I hope so.”  She said and leaned up and kissed him. “Congratulations, Clint.  She's beautiful.  You are going to be really happy”

Clint looked back in at you, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't doubt that at all.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #angst #pregnancy #legacy

[tarithenurse]

Orphan 10

Starring:  Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! Fluff. Yeah, you read that right. Of course, there’s also some pining, worrying, awkwardness, and general feels of all sorts. A/N: So I’m posting this from my new home!! First night here! SoooooooOOOOOOOoooooo*gasp*ooooOOOOOoooo stoked about this, it’s almost ridiculous! Still: previous chapters can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

10. Protective

After managing the initial formalities and even getting into the car without making a fool of yourself, there’s little left to say. So, Rhodes had left you behind for some work-thing. Why not take Pepper’s offer? I can’t…not yet, though you explain that differently with excuses of any kind. Perhaps Steve realizes the true reason but if so, then he doesn’t push the agenda in an effort to find out which. You are more than grateful, just like you feel a sense of relief that he doesn’t question you about how the visit went.

How did it go? It’s a lot to take in, that’s for sure.

Tony Stark was a man of transitions more than anything. Every time he had faced something new, he’d go in head on and work his way through until he had transformed it, or it had transformed him – into something more, something greater. Flawed, like most other people, it had been easy for him to follow down a path of less than honorable activities. Then he was forced to learn the truth. Afterwards, Tony sought to use all he had to correct the mistakes he had made. Make a difference. Your estranged father had become a hero to the world through his intellect and stubbornness.

Now people who knew him keep saying how alike the two of you are, how many of his features you share. What is anyone supposed to do with information like that? Become someone new like Tony Stark might have done? Or go on, allowing the well-meant comments fall to the ground and shatter as you turn your back?

There are probably more options, but as much as you would like to think it through, analyze the situation, it’s impossible for your brain to follow a train of thought to the end because of the person sitting to your left.

Hyperaware of Steve, your logical and emotional sides are at war, periodically freezing the hordes of butterflies that just will not give up. Each beat of their wings heat your belly and cheeks only for leaden worry to replace it. And guilt.

Consumed with your own turmoil, you do nothing to keep track of the real world until Steve suddenly cuts the engine, proclaiming the destination has been reached. A few stairs up, the lights of the city visible through narrow windows in the stairwell, and on to a front door which the Captain unlocks before offering your to enter first, like the gentleman he apparently is.

Dark hair swings out of the face as Barnes looks up, nailing you to the spot with his icy eyes. “Ohooo, so this’s the emergency y’didn’t want me along for?”

“Bucky.” There’s a hint of a warning barely hidden there.

“Nah, man, it’s okay,” Bucky chuckles, winking jovially, “Wouldn’t wanna be a third wheel anyways.”

Despite the red ears, there’s no warmth left in Steve’s voice now: “James.”

You silently watch a standoff unfold between the blond captain and his friend with the shit-eating grin plastered across his face until, eventually, the cheeky ex-assassin decides to back off to his own room, leaving Steve alone to help you settle for the night.

It’s not a huge place, but from the looks of it it’s perfect for a pair of friends sharing the kitchen, bathroom and living room while having each their own bedroom – at least you did spot a perfectly made bed before Bucky pushed the door shut behind him and somehow you don’t think the two would manage to share a normal sized bed. King size, minimum? Keeping silent, it’s easy to follow Cap through to his room (with a “full”) while he babbles absentmindedly about towels, pillows, and lending out t-shirts for the night.

“– and I’ll keep the light on in the living room so you can find me…I’ll be on the couch…or the or the way to the –“

What he says finally catches your attention. “Wait what?”

“Uhh…light?”

He looks cute when perplexed, you realize and promptly try to ignore. “No the…you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. It’s no big deal, it’s comfy.” A shimmer of the stubbornness from the standoff a moment ago has returned.

I’ll give you stubborn. “Good, then I’ll be perfectly fine there, thank you.”

A snigger warns both of you before the tauntingly sarcastic voice booms through the wall: “And tHeRe wAs o-oNly onE Be-eD!”

 …   Clint   …

“She’s an adult.”

Even with woolen socks, the man still manages to stomp as he paces back and forth.

“She’s not our kid, honey.”

Fingers tap restlessly against his thigh, itching to dial Rhodes number or to fire an arrow…maybe at Rhodes. Good thing he’s not here.

“Her problem solving’s commendable and…” Laura sighs, trying to hide the roll of her eyes behind a hand before stopping her husband with a steely gaze. “Clinton Francis Barton. Y’listenin’ to me? [Y/N] is an adult and in good hands because she made a smart decision and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“But –“ He motions wildly to the phone where the messages still can be seen on the screen. “The plan was –“

Laura isn’t just used to dealing with superheroes. She’s a wife and a mother too, and a faithful partner through thick and thin. For years, she’s been preparing for and handling events like this, and Clint is in awe at her calm. Serenity. Looking at her, he realizes for the millionth time through their years together that she is his rock by which he can secure himself and find steady ground.

A few deep breaths then he can seek refuge in her embrace. “You’re right, sweetheart,” he admits, “it’s just hard not to be protective o’ her. What if’t’d been Lila?”

“Then Lila would have known what to do too.” He can feel her smile as Laura kisses his head. “We’ve got smart kids…all three and a half.”

Silence falls between the adults, allowing the crackle of firewood to prevail – it’s one of those sounds Clint cherishes too much to remove the hearing aids for. That and birds singing. And the sound of wind in grass. For too many years none of those sounds had carried any meaning because the most important of them all were missing: the voices of his family. Even now when the kids are sleeping and Laura sits quietly, he can still hear them or at the very least their living echo.

“She’s not gone,” she murmurs gently.

Magical wife. “I know.”

 …   Reader   …

On a scale from zero (none at all) to ten (the worst possible), the level off awkwardness is steady right about an eleven…maybe a nine if you don’t breathe and move which on the other hand would make it a very uncomfortable experience in other ways. Who’d have thought? To be fair, you did but there’s no way you’re changing your mind now.

Even where you are lying in the darkness, you can feel the heat radiating off of Steve who is lying equally rigid, probably with his hands neatly above the blanket he has insisted on using just so you could have the duvet. At least he accepted you slept with a smaller spare pillow, something you had rejoiced for a moment, foolishly thinking his scent wouldn’t be so overpowering…dude, were you wrong. Careful not to move too much, you squirm until you’re on your side.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks softly.

Duh. “Might help if ya sing me a lullaby.”

The mattress shakes with soundless laughter. “Not sure my taste of music’s…y’know…the right kind.”

“What d’you listen to?”

Awkward minutes turn into peaceful hours as the two of you chat about music, books, anything really as time passes until sleep finally overpowers you.

…

Gnnnnooo…something big and warm is moving ever so slowly, trying to free itself from under your arm and head. In your sleep muddled brain, it only matters that the being equals safety for some reason. But despite the half-hearted whine you still end up alone although the covers are tugged nicely around you, eliciting a semi-pleased sigh from your lips.

A few minutes pass where you try to silence an insistent nagging in the back of your head, too tempted by sleep to want to dig out the bugger. There is a clang of a pot or something on the stove, jarring your mind a bit further. Cooking. The little thought bounces up and down in your spongy brain, already prepping the spotlight for the natural associations. Person…cooking…person. Now the nagging is millimeters from turning into realization in all its shiny glory. Person. Steve.

“Ohshitfuckno!”

Sitting up with a jolt, wide-eyed and hair a mess, everything comes crashing back. The visit yesterday before you called the Captain for a ride. Of course the chat as you both lay there in the dark, pretending and eventually believing it wasn’t weird at all.

“Oh…”

All of it meaning that the person gently pushing you away must have been Steve. Captain America. And you had snuggled him in your sleep.

“Please, kill me now,” you breathe, face hidden behind hands and hair.

“So…no eggs for you?” You can hear the shy smile in Steve’s voice just as clearly as the measured footsteps bringing him to the bed where he sits. “It’s alright, doll…you’re safe here.”

Despite the heat spreading all over your face, you still manage to look at him and return the smile. “I know.”

“Good.” For a moment it looks as though he wants to reach out for you, his hand twitching in the lap but never moving further. “I-uhmm…the Barton’s will probably want you back but…but would you want to visit Banner at his lap?”

There’s a distinct sense of disappointment. Not because you don’t want to check out the renowned scientist’s lab, but because…because what?

Pushing away an unformulated theory, you smile gently. “That’d be awesome.”

“Alright.”

And with that he’s leaving to sort the cooking, only pausing to pull a towel out of the cabinet so you can shower.

#Orphan #Orphan MCU Fanfiction #Steve Rogers #Steve rogers x reader #mcu fanfiction #steve rogers x you #reader insert #captain america #tony stark #Iron Man #morgan stark #Pepper Potts #james rhodes #Warmachine #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #post-endgame #Dealing with the Snappening #Dealing with the Blip #Avengers #Guardians of the Galaxy #spider-man #MCU #fanfiction #fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #fanfiction series #Writing

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

Oh To Be a Barton (Chapter Fourteen)

As a reminder I’m shit posting. This is an unfinished story and this is all she wrote. Please do not ask for me to update it. Thanks!

Tagged: @justgrits

    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Four Years Later*

Slowly, the door creaked open. Clint and Natasha crept across the wooden floor and over to the large bed. Clint walked around to stand on the opposite side of the bed to look over at Natasha. He looked up at the woman he loved. Her blue eyes sparkled with happiness and her face was bright and had a large grin. Silently, Clint counted to three and then the pair jumped on top of the bed.

Emily groaned as she was hit with the full weight of her brother and his fiance. She struggled to get her arms free, but both of them kept her tucked under her covers. They planted wet, slobbery kisses all over her face before they moved to lay next to her. Emily let out a long sigh as the sandwiched her between them.

"Happy Birthday!" Natasha and Clint exclaimed together.

"It's too early," Emily complained.

Clint scoffed. "It's never too early to start celebrating a birthday."

"Especially since you're turning seventeen, Em," Natasha added.

"What's so great about seventeen?" Emily asked in reply.

"Oh no, young lady. You will not be a party pooper on your own birthday." Clint informed her.

"Then give me like two more hours," Emily whined snuggling into her covers.

"Can't sweetie," Natasha said, pulling back the covers.

"We have so much to do today," Clint said.

"Why must I be tortured on my birthday?" Emily asked no one particularly.

"Oh come on, you'll love it." Natasha grinned.

Emily eyed the couple. "What do you two have planned?"

Clint looked over at Natasha and she just smiled back.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Clint lied.

"Clinton Francis Barton, don't you lie to me." Emily scolded.

"Francis." Natasha snorted.

"I hate when you use my middle name," Clint whined. "And shut up, Natasha."

"I wouldn't have to use your forbidden middle name if you would just leave me alone." Emily pointed out.

"You're the reason why we can't have nice things." Clint pouted.

"So mature," Emily scoffed as she tried pulling the blankets up further over her head.

"Oh no, you don't!" Natasha exclaimed yanking the blankets off the bed.

Emily let out a frustrated scream.

"Get dressed and meet us downstairs in five minutes or it will be the big guy coming up here for you next." Clint threatened.

"First of all, the big guy doesn't scare me. Secondly, the Hulk loves and adores me. He'll listen to me and leave me alone." Emily reminded her brother.

"Oh, I wasn't talking about Bruce. I was threatening you with Fury." Clint smugly replied.

Emily tossed her pillow at her brother.

"You're so rude!" She growled.

Clint easily caught the pillow and flung it back at his sister. Before Emily could retaliate once again, Natasha and Clint quickly abandoned Emily's room leaving her to get around for the day. Knowing better than going back to bed, Emily pulled herself to the edge of the bed and then simply fell out of the bed onto the floor. She laid on the floor for a full minute before finally getting up and getting around for the day.

She didn't bother to brush her hair instead, he piled the long brown mess on top of her head and secured it with two of her hair ties. Emily dug around in her dresser for a pair of black leggings and then slipped them over her hips. She bit her lip as she mulled over what shirt she wanted to wear. Having no idea what the two of them were up to Emily went for comfort rather than dressy. Emily pulled on her favorite dark blue Star Labs sweater and then grabbed a pair of socks.

Once her socks and boots were on her feet, Emily quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth. She swiped on some deodorant and then splashed a little bit of perfume on before calling it good. Grabbing her trusty backpack, Emily whipped open her bedroom door and then jogged down the stairs.

"Alright, I'm ready for the day, you brats," Emily growled as she rounded the corner.

She froze in her spot as she took in the sight before her. The dining room and kitchen were decorated in purple and silver streamers and balloons. A huge 'Happy Birthday Emily!' banner hung over the table.  To her even greater surprise, the farmhouse was filled with her most favorite and cherished people.

"What in the world?" Emily asked in confusion.

"Happy Birthday!" The group rang out and Emily's mouth fell open.

"Look at that, the kid is speechless." Fury teased.

Emily narrowed her eyes at him and he just laughed before coming forward to hug her first. Everyone was there in her house to celebrate her seventeenth birthday. Piper and Peter stood with Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim. Wade was even there grinning like a fool in the corner. Maria Hill had come along with Fury. Her dad was there which surprised her that he was able to sneak away from Stark. Emily was excited to see everyone, but she was most excited to see Steve Rogers standing by the punch bowl with a dark skinned man standing next to him.

"I can't believe you all came." Emily gushed.

"I know your past birthdays haven't been so grand. I wanted to make this one extra special." Clint admitted as he kissed Emily on the forehead.

"He's been planning this for months," Natasha told her. "He worked so hard to make sure that everyone could make it all in one day."

"I don't know what to say, Clint. This is amazing." Emily said.

"Just enjoy your day with your family and friends," Clint replied.

"Thanks, Clint," Emily said.

Clint grinned. "You're welcome. Now go and enjoy your party."

Emily mingled her way through the party. She made sure she spent enough time with each and every one of her guests. At first, she wanted to go right to Steve and his friend, but Emily didn't want to be rude to her friends and family. Slowly, but surely, Emily made it around to the snack table. Steve and his friend met Emily with giant grins.

"Hi, Steve!" Emily greeted a little too enthusiastically.

"I was wondering when we'd get to talk to the birthday girl," Steve said.

"Here I am." Emily smiled. "I'm glad that you came."

"I wouldn't miss it," Steve said.

"Hi Emily, I'm Sam Wilson, a friend of Steve's. I hope you don't mind that I tagged along." Sam said.

"Oh no, more the merrier. It's nice to meet you." Emily said, shaking his hand.

"Steve told me a lot about you. You live quite the interesting life." Sam said.

Emily laughed. "Yeah, they keep me on my toes."

Emily lost herself in the conversation with Sam and Steve. Wade had hopped over into the conversation draping himself onto Emily. He leaned his head against her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist. Since the three of them had never been to the farmhouse before Emily decided to give them a tour.

Halfway through, Wade got distracted by an argument Peter and Dick were having and left Emily to defend his boyfriend. Sam and Steve, followed Emily upstairs.

"I'm slightly embarrassed to show you my room," Emily admitted.

"Why is that?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Well, because of this," Emily said pushing open her bedroom door.

Steve stepped in first. Sam let out a soft chuckle as he moved around the room looking at all of Emily's things. Steve glanced back at Emily who was standing there slightly brushing.

"It's not like I'm a stalker or anything, I promise." Emily began.

Steve smiled. "I remember Coulson telling me about how I was your role model."

"I'm coming off creepy, aren't I?" Emily asked.

Above Emily's bed hung an exact replica of Steve's shield. Her trading cards along with Coulson's were framed and were placed on her bookshelf between her collection of books. Some of his old posters from back in the day were framed and nicely hung on her walls along with collages that looked like she had made herself of her family and friends.

"It's not creepy at all. It's nice knowing that I was, still am, someone's role model." Steve told her.

"When you were found and they had, uh, defrosted you, Coulson had promised me that one day we would meet. I was so determined to make a great first impression so that maybe one day we could be friends." Emily admitted.

Steve surprised Emily by pulling her in for a hug. Emily wrapped her arms around his torso and gave him a slight squeeze.

"I don't have many friends nowadays," Steve said.

"But, after Coulson died I didn't really have an in with you so I kind of just dropped the possibility of being friends," Emily told him.

"Well, I think today is a great start to a friendship. What do you think?" Steve asked her.

Emily's face filled with a bright smile. "Really?"

Steve nodded. "I think-"

Steve was cut off when Fury shouted for Steve and Sam to come and join him. Emily followed behind them as they raced down the stairs. Natasha gave Emily a sad look and Clint was grabbing his arrows.

"Wait, what's going on?" Emily asked.

"Sorry, Emily, but we have to go." Clint apologized.

"Wait, why?" Emily asked in confusion.

"We don't have time to explain. Just stay here and don't leave the farmhouse." Clint said.

"You can't leave me on my birthday, Clint!" Emily exclaimed.

"There's something going on and we all hoped that we'd be able to go a day without a problem, but that's not going to happen," Clint explained.

"Can I help?" Emily asked.

"No, Em. Just stay here and enjoy the rest of your day. We'll be back as soon as we can." Natasha added.

Emily's face fell.

"Wilson, do you have everything you need?" Fury asked.

"How come Sam gets to be a part of this, but I can't?" Emily asked.

"Please, Emily, just stay here." Clint kissed her cheek and then the six of them rushed out of the house.

Emily stood on the front porch and watched as Maria climbed behind the wheel of the SUV. None of them looked back at Emily as they left. Emily leaned against the railing and watched them drive away. Emily heard a nervous breath catch behind her, Emily turned to see her dad standing there.

"Let me guess, you have to leave too?" Emily asked him.

"Someone has to distract Tony. Whatever Steve and the others are doing can't involve Tony." Bruce explained.

"It's fine. Go. Keep Tony away from the others," Emily said.

"You know if I had any other choice, I'd stay, Em," Bruce replied.

"I know that, dad. Just go," Emily said, turning away from him.

Bruce came up behind her and kissed the top of her head. He already had his bag and headed down to his car. Emily stood on the porch for a few more minutes before remembering that Bruce and her friends were still here. Emily went inside letting the screen door slam behind her.

"Cheer up, Em. We're still here and ready to party," Wade grinned.

"I appreciate it guys, but I'm not up for any more celebration," Emily told them.

"Emily, come on we'll keep you busy. This will be your best birthday yet." Peter said.

Emily shook her head. "Sorry guys, just leave the mess and go on home."

Her friends watched Emily walk up stairs. they waited until they heard her bedroom door slam shut before any of them let out their breaths that they were holding. Bruce looked over at his children. He could tell that they were all just as sad as Emily.

"The least we can do is clean up this mess before we go," Bruce said.

"Yeah, good idea, pops," Tim said, grabbing a pile of discarded plates.

Everyone began to chip in and pick up the mess from the party. With his dad and siblings distracted, Jason slipped up the stairs and down to Emily's bedroom. He pressed his ear against her door. When he heard the soft cries Jason suppressed his groan and then entered.

"Just go home," Emily said.

Jason ignored her wishes and crawled into the bed next to her. The pair lay silent on their backs. Both of them watched the ceiling fan whip around and around. Once in a while, Emily would wipe at the tears on her cheeks. Jason said nothing. He let his friend cry. He figured his presence there was good enough. Jason knew he wasn't good at the whole talking and sharing feelings thing, but he knew what it felt like to be disappointed by the ones you called your family.

"You don't have to babysit me. I'm not going to do anything dramatic," Emily told him.

Jason scoffed. "I know you, you'll do something stupid just for the attention,"

"I haven't done that since I was a kid," Emily pointed out.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Old habits die hard,"

"I'm so thankful that I have your sunshine personality to cheer me up," Emily complained.

"Oh please, if you didn't want me here you would have kicked me out already. You're thankful that it's not Wade or Peter in here trying to get you to talk about your feelings and all of that bullshit," Jason said.

Emily let out a small chuckle. "That's true,"

"Now shut up and enjoy the silence," Jason sighed.

Emily fell silent again. Her attention returned to the ceiling fan spinning above her. Emily could feel Jason's arm resting gently next to hers. Knowing that it would probably make him mad, Emily laced her hand with Jason's anyway. The boy tensed at the sudden contact, but he didn't tear his hand away in disgust. It wasn't as if Emily was wanting to hold his hand for anything romantic. She just desperately craved the support that she was lacking from her family.

To her surprise, Jason gave her hand a squeeze. A small smile teased her lips, but she kept her appreciation to herself. Emily didn't know how long the pair laid like that watching the ceiling fan spin around in the silence, but Emily ended up dozing off.

When she woke up from her nap, the house was dark and eerily quiet. Groaning, Emily rolled over onto her side to check her phone. She had several text messages from her friends to enjoy the rest of her birthday and they would check in with her tomorrow.

Slipping from her bed, Emily headed downstairs to get something to drink and tackle her birthday mess. She wasn't all that surprised to find the house squeaky cleaned. She sent out a silent thank you to her friends before tracking into the kitchen. She pulled out the tray of vegetables and the plate full of finger sandwiches. Emily piled a plate full of the sandwiches, veggies, and a stack of cookies.

"Homer, turn on the news," Emily muttered.

"Right away, Emily," Homer replied.

Emily picked at her food as she watched the news. Most of her food sat untouched as Emily was too engrossed with the news. There was a segment on a new project coming through Stark Industries. Emily rolled her eyes when she saw Tony Stark on the screen. When her phone began to ring, Emily was tempted not to answer it, but she didn't want anyone to think that something had happened to her.

"Hello," Emily answered.

"Emily! Are you okay?" Natasha asked.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine," Emily answered.

"Are you alone?" Clint asked.

"Of course, I'm alone. I sent everyone home hours ago," Emily replied.

"Shit!" Clint swore.

"What's going on?" Emily asked.

"You need to get as far away from the farmhouse as possible," Natasha told her.

"Why? No one's here and I'm perfectly fine," Emily said in annoyance.

"Give me the phone," Steve growled.

"Steve, wait," Natasha hissed.

Emily could hear the fight for the phone. Natasha groaned and then Steve's voice was filling her ear.

"Emily, there's somebody coming to the house for you. To hurt me. To hurt us. You need to get out of there. Now!" Steve barked.

Emily gasped as the power cut out.

"Emily? What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"I think it's too late for me to escape," Emily whispered into the phone.

"Clint, drive faster!" Steve growled.

"We should have sent Sam ahead," Clint snarled.

"He was too hurt, Clint, " Natasha pointed out.

Emily ignored their arguing and slowly stood up from the table. She backed away from the table. The phone dangled in her hand as Emily rushed into the mudroom to pull out her emergency backpack.

"Emily!" Steve shouted her name.

"I don't think I'm alone," Emily whispered.

"Get out of the house, now," Clint hissed.

"Hang on," Emily said.

Emily slid her phone into her back pocket. She slid her backpack onto her shoulders. Tip toeing through the house, Emily slid out the back door. She jumped off the porch and then began running towards the barn. There was an ATV that Emily could drive through the woods and to the road on the other side of the wooded area.

Emily was halfway to the barn when something pinched her in the side of the neck. Emily groaned and fell to her knees. Emily scrambled to yank the dart from her neck. Emily swore and then stumbled to her feet. Thankfully, through all of her training, Emily had a high tolerance to a tranquilizer. Another pinching feeling came at the center of her back. Emily swore as she fell face first into the dirt. She could hear shoes crunching in the dirt. Emily tried looking up, but another dart landed in her arm. Emily reached forward to swipe at her attacker, but the darkness overtook her.

Her head hurt and her vision was fuzzy. Rolling around, Emily found herself in her bedroom. Sitting up, Emily's stomach rolled and she felt like she had to throw up. Emily took in a few deep breaths to keep herself from tossing her stomach. Emily rubbed her aching head. Memories came flooding back to her and Emily looked around her room, but it was empty.

Standing carefully, Emily crept across her room. She opened her door cautiously. The power had been restored as she could see the lights on from down below. She could hear soft voices coming from downstairs as well. Turning back, Emily quickly crossed her room over to the window. Slowly, she opened her window wide enough for her to slip through into the darkening sky.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," A cold voice said behind her.

Emily shook her head. "Why am I not surprised that you're a part of this?"

The man just laughed. Emily turned around and came face to face to Rumlow.

"I always knew you were a piece of scum," Emily hissed.

"It's good to see you too, princess," Rumlow grinned.

"Do I even want to know why you're here?" Emily asked him.

"Let's just say I found a better paying job," Rumlow told her.

Emily gave him a look of disgust.

"Now, if you were smart you'd follow me downstairs. There's somebody who would like to talk to you," Rumlow informed her.

"And if I don't come willingly?" Emily asked him.

"Just remember I love a good challenge," Rumlow grinned.

Emily scoffed. "You're disgusting,"

"You have no idea how disgusting I can be. Now, let's get downstairs, shall we?" Rumlow said.

Emily stormed across her bedroom, she hurried past Rumlow and kept herself out of his reach. Downstairs, there were a few more men dressed all in black. Emily eyed them carefully as she headed into the living room. Emily hesitated in the doorway when she saw the man waiting for her across the room. The metallic arm was all too familiar to her. Two years ago, she had finally been able to break through Shield's firewall and she was able to read the rest of Bucky Barnes' file. She knew who exactly was standing in front of her.

"Bucky?" Emily whispered.

The man stiffened at the name.

"You're the second person in a matter of days to call me that name," He said.

"You've seen Steve?" Emily asked him.

Rumlow thwacked her in the back of her head.

"He's the only one asking the questions here." Rumlow snarled.

Emily rubbed the back of  her head. "Watch it, Rumlow,"

"I'm the one doing the interrogation, Rumlow. If you can't keep your hands to yourself then you can stand outside," Winter Soldier snarled.

"Fine," Rumlow hissed.

The infamous Winter Soldier returned his gaze on Emily.

"Where are Steve Rogers and the others?" He asked her.

Emily shrugged. "I have no idea,"

"Tell the truth, brat," Rumlow growled.

"Do I need to remove your tongue to keep you quiet?" Winter Soldier demanded to know.

"No," Rumlow said between clenched teeth.

"Then shut up," Winter snarled.

"I don't understand how this happened to you, Bucky," Emily said in disbelief.

"You just don't know how to keep your mouth shut, do you?" Rumlow snarled before backhanding Emily.

Emily yelped as the force of the slap sent her crashing to the ground. Winter Soldier stormed across the living room and grabbed Rumlow by his neck. He held the man up above the floor and he glared at the agent.

"You just don't know how to obey orders, do you?" Winter Soldier snapped before throwing Rumlow out the front window.

Emily cringed as the glass shattered everywhere. Winter Soldier made the rest of the men wait outside as well. He didn't want anybody else interrupting him. Emily was surprised when he came over to her and held out his hand towards her. She looked at his hand cautiously before slipping her own hand into his. With one swift tug, Winter had her up on her own feet. He grabbed her face between his metallic hand and examined her face.

"I'm fine. I've been hit far worse than Rumlow," Emily told him, pulling back from his touch.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you keep avoiding my questions," He informed her.

"Listen, I know nothing. Honestly. My brother and the rest of his team keep me out of the loop. That's how they keep me protected. Yes, they were here early today celebrating my birthday, but they got some big important phone call and left. They called to check in on me, but then you showed up. They all probably think that I escaped like we had planned." Emily lied the last bit.

"Where would they go?" Winter Soldier asked.

"I don't know. There are a dozen different places they could go, but I'm sure you've already checked. You seem to have everything covered. You're so desperate that you've stooped so low to beat up a family member." Emily added.

Winter Soldier looked away from her.

"You remember him, don't you?" Emily asked suddenly.

Winter Soldier looked back at her with a glare.

"That's it, isn't it? You remembered, but he's your mission, right? So you're in a bind." Emily pointed out.

"Stop talking." Winter Soldier growled.

Emily shut her mouth.

"Call your precious Captain America and tell him that you're in danger," Winter said, holding out her phone.

Emily shook her head.

"Take the phone," Winter growled.

"I refuse to be a pawn in your stupid game," Emily informed him.

"Do you not grasp how serious this situation is?" Winter asked her.

"Oh, I understand how serious this is. That's why I'm not going to grovel for you to keep me alive. I'm definitely not going to bring my family here to die either." Emily said.

A low growl escaped from the soldier.

Winter's radio crackled before a voice came through.

"Get out of there. Reinforcements have arrived. We are outnumbered," A voice said.

"Times up," Emily said.

"We'll see about that," Winter muttered.

"What does that mean?" Emily asked in confusion.

"Let's go," Winter said, ignoring her question.

Emily let out a hiss as he grabbed her tightly by the arm. He led her through the house and then out the back door. A helicopter was waiting for them out by the barn. Rumlow and another agent were already inside waiting. Rumlow shook his head at the sight of Emily, but he said nothing. Emily fought against the soldier when he tried putting her into the chopper. Gunshots rang out and Emily began screaming for her brother to come and save her.

"Clint! Clint!" Emily screamed.

Winter picked her up and shoved her into the helicopter.

"Shut up." Rumlow snarled.

"Steve! Help me!" Emily shouted as she saw Steve burst from the house.

The helicopter lifted up into the air. Steve jumped off the tractor but missed the helicopter. Natasha began shooting at the helicopter, but it was too late. Emily leaned out of the opposite side still shouting for her brother, but the Winter Soldier pulled her back in and then slammed the doors shut. Breathing heavily, Emily looked around and that's when she realized how incredibly screwed she was. She actually believed that she wouldn't be making it out of this one alive.

"We weren't supposed to bring her back as a captive." The other agent snarled.

"I'll handle it." Winter Soldier said calmly.

"How are you going to handle her and finish your mission?" Rumlow asked.

"Are you doubting me?" Winter asked.

"No, I'm not," Rumlow said.

"Then don't worry about it. I have all of this figured out." Winter said coldly.

"Whatever, as long as I don't have to play babysitter," Rumlow complained.

"Afraid I'll slit your throat when you're not looking?" Emily asked him.

"I'd like to see you try," Rumlow laughed.

"Challenge accepted, asshole," Emily snapped.

"Shut up, both of you," Winter growled.

Emily sat back in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. she had no idea how she was going to get herself out of this one and that scared her. She was afraid that this Winter Soldier would get the drop on Steve and there would be no hope for Emily in the end. Emily knew that no matter what she had to do whatever possible to keep herself alive and get as far away from the Winter Soldier as she could or this whole situation would end up very deadly for herself and her family.

#Clint Barton #original character #Emily Barton #Bruce Banner #Nick Fury #natasha romanoff #Steve Rogers #Sam WIlson #Jason Todd #Peter Parker #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Bruce Wayne #Wade Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Brock Rumlow #MCU au #I bend things to my will because I can

[alexeishostakoff]

the field journal of clint barton, as sent to nick fury [budapest edition]

note: this was originally posted to my ao3 around a year ago, and is largely unedited.

day one in budapest 

i’ve scoped out the area. it looks like it’s just the widow, no backup. could be a trap, though.

day two in budapest

you already know this, but her target is thought to be jonathan charrister, american billionaire. i mingled at a party he was at. she didn’t show. i’ve compiled a list of places she might be staying, i’m gonna check them out soon.

day three in budapest 

she’s taking her time with this one, having a little fun and toying with him. saw her at the market earlier today, she smirked at the security detail, winked at charrister, blew a kiss, and walked away. i know you want this done fast, but she’s better than i am, and you know it. i need to be careful with this one.

day four in budapest 

i think she knows who i am. she ran into me outside of a shop today. she looked me in the eyes, and i swear... she’s terrifying. beautiful, yeah, but cold and filled with the promise of pain. i need to get this done with soon.

day five in budapest 

she sleeps handcuffed to the bed. probably started in the red room, and it doesn’t seem like she ever broke the habit. stuck a tranq in her and took her to the safe house. it was almost too easy. and, yeah, i know i was supposed to but a bullet in her brain. and i will, if my gamble doesn’t play off. just trust me this one time, alright?

day one with the widow 

she didn’t even seem surprised when she woke up. smirked at me, didn’t speak. this is gonna be fun.

day two with the widow 

like i said before, there’s no doubt that she’s beautiful. but there’s something about her... how did they not immediately notice that she would be their deaths? she changed for them, i guess. of course she did. she does that sometimes.

day three with the widow 

read through her file again. it’s not hard to understand why she does what she does and how she does it.

day four with the widow 

she’s been pretty quiet so far. hasn’t tried to escape, hasn’t said anything. uses various signals to communicate anything she needs. other than that, she just sits there in the corner of the room. watching me. when she’s watching you... it’s something else. you know that she’s studying you, analyzing you, and that she can (and probably will) kill you without even blinking, but you don’t really mind that. because when she’s watching you it’s like she knows all the shitty things you’ve done, all the crimes you’ve committed, and she simultaneously understands and doesn’t give a damn. it’s surprisingly comforting, that sense of analytical understanding. it’s probably part of what makes her so dangerous. she can be anything to anyone, and she’ll use that to hurt you. to me, right now she looks like a woman who’s been brainwashed into a monster. and i know she’ll use it against me, but i’m starting to pity her. 

day five with the widow

i’ve started talking to her now. partially to see if she’ll respond, partially to distract myself from the way she’s studying me. neither’s working. food and dogs don’t seem to phase her, and she only looked mildly interested when i mentioned shield. and i can’t talk about shield. she does seem to want to look at my field journal, but i can’t let her see that. can i, though? no? fine. i’ll just let her keep watching me with those eyes. damn that russian spy.

day six with the widow

she spoke today.

fury, she spoke. it was like-i can’t explain it right, but i’ll try. her stare would crack anyone after six days. so i talked, and i didn’t stop. she was mainly ignoring me. “y’know, i don’t think we’re that different.” and then suddenly she wasn’t. it caught me a little off-guard, but i kept talking. “look, i-okay, we’re both assassins. and being an assassin-missions don’t always go right, yeah? so, we probably both have scars.” i swear to god, she completely changed. she had been all curled up before, looking absolutely haughty while she watched me. now? she sat up, her eyes going a little wide, and she looked…vulnerable, really. it was only for a second, but she appeared more human than she has the entire time i’ve known her. then, she spoke. “you aren’t trying to kill me.” it was a statement, but it seemed more like a question. “i’m giving you a chance.” she nodded, and we didn’t speak again.

day seven with the widow 

she’s gone back to watching me.

day eight with the widow 

she hasn’t spoken again (yet), but i think she likes the french fries from one of the nearby shops. yes, i’m giving her french fries. no, nobody’s come looking.

day nine with the widow 

she opened her handcuffs while i was sitting a foot away. i thought i was a dead man, i grabbed my gun and aimed it at her. but no, she just walked up and closed the window, before going back over and putting the cuffs back on. she was completely calm, like i hadn’t pulled a gun on her or anything. i think she’s starting to like me.

day ten with the widow 

she’s watching the news channel. should i be worried? is she receiving messages via tv? i don’t know, i’m going to let her watch in peace. yeah, it might get me killed. nah, i’m not worried.

day eleven with the widow 

i know you want to know why i haven’t killed her. i’ve gotten all the messages, all the orders. just trust me on this one, fury. please. she’ll join. i just have to get her to talk.

day twelve with the widow 

christ, so much happened today. i’ll write it down in the morning, i need to sleep now.

what happened on day twelve with the widow 

we played a game. i think she won, though it’s not the kind of game that usually has a winner or a loser. it was a questions game. for every question i’d ask her, she’d get to ask me one. honest answers. couldn’t be about shield intel. we were sitting across from each other at our makeshift dining room table. she wasn’t wearing the handcuffs, but i didn’t mention it. i went first, started off easy. “full name?” “natalia alianovna romanova.” it took her a moment to say it, like she could barely remember. “i think i’ll just call you nat,” i said, and she might’ve smiled. “why haven’t you killed me?” always gets straight to the point, that one. “i think you deserve another chance. why did you let me capture you?” i didn’t see her answer coming. “it was better to die than continue what i was doing.” the game stopped for the day after that, but so did the silence. i’m not sure what changed, but something did.

day one with nat

started off the day with a new question. “are you recruiting me, agent?” she asked, completely neutral as i handed her a bagel. “if i can,” i replied. it took me awhile to come up with a good question. “do you know who i am?” “vaguely. who are you?” “clint barton. what’s your full name?” “it’s my turn, not yours,” i said, and she smiled like she knew something i didn’t. “how many people have you killed?” for a split second, she wasn’t nat anymore, she was the black widow, and i’m fairly certain she wanted to stab me. “too many.” and that was that.

day two with nat 

“how long have you been with shield?” “feels like eternity.” “that’s not much of an answer,” she said, as she threw a french fry at my head. (yes, i’m still giving her french fries.)  “it’s the only one you’re going to get.” she frowned, and pretty much ignored me until i asked my next question. “who trained you?” “a monster.” “nat, who-“ “a monster.” i could tell that was all she would say, so i gave up. “what’s your full name?” “clinton francis barton.” it was obvious that she wanted to laugh at me. and i know, i really do, that i’m not supposed to give away that much information, but i had to. you know i did.

day three with nat

i think i’ve mainly convinced her that i’m not going to hurt her, though i’m not quite as sure about whether or not she’s going to hurt me. “who ran the red room?” “ivan the strange. who sent you to kill me?” “my boss.” she shook her head a little, but didn’t comment, letting me talk. “what’s your favorite color?” “don’t have one. what’s your preferred weapon?” “bow and arrows, believe it or not.” she arched an eyebrow, looking nothing short of royal, and the game continued. “why haven’t you killed me?” her posture relaxed, and she appeared to be dangerously comfortable with her surroundings. “you amuse me,” she said matter-of-factly, and for a second i understood the fear that came with looking the black widow dead in the eye.

day four with nat

she didn’t ask any questions today, just watched the news, did push-ups, and listened to me talk about my dog.

day five with nat

i went out today. scoped out the area. still seems like nobody’s looking for her. not suspicious at all...

day six with nat

“how far away could you shoot this french fry with an arrow from?” i paused, and thought a moment. “not sure. maybe a residential block.” she nodded. “what about you? with a normal gun, that is.” she shrugged. “around the same.”

day seven with nat

i’ve been told multiple times that i’m good at reading people. by coulson, hill-even by you, fury. i think we can trust natasha romanoff.

day eight with nat 

“have you heard of the winter soldier?” “a few times. why?” “pure curiosity. have you met him?” “he’s a ghost story. i haven’t. …have you?” “all of us russian monsters know each other.” i know she knows that i know she knows more about the soldier, more about a lot of things we should know about. i don’t think she’ll tell me, though. at least not yet.

day nine with nat 

“do you have a tragic backstory?” the words were almost taunting, but she did sound fairly sincere. “every shield agent does, it seems.” i didn’t exactly dodge the question, but i didn’t answer it entirely, either. there are some things you just don’t talk about. “you called yourself a russian monster. why?” “because that’s what i am, clinton. that’s what i always have been.”

day ten with nat

“are you in love with anyone? anything?” “yeah. i think so. are you?” “i don’t know. i...i can’t remember.”

day eleven with nat 

she was unusually quiet today. it’s like she’s preparing for something, steeling herself. hope that doesn’t mean i’m about to get my ass kicked.

day twelve with nat 

the silence continued. she looked like she wanted to talk to me a few times, but didn’t. i’m starting to get worried.

day thirteen with nat 

good news: she talked again today. it wasn’t anything exciting, just your basic pleasantries. bad news: she doesn’t look any less nervous. which is making me nervous. the tension in this damn safehouse is overwhelming. and i can already tell what maria is going to think when she reads over this, so i’d like to clarify that no, it is not sexual tension. i think.

day fourteen with nat

well. found out why she was nervous. it was her turn in the questions game, remember? she asked me about my tragic backstory. and you know me, fury. i didn’t tell her everything. didn’t tell her how much it hurt, how much it still hurts, how i still can’t hear someone yell without remembering my father, but i told her enough to make her get all quiet. then she apologized for asking and said it wasn’t her place to pry, which made me feel worse, for some reason. you didn’t expect this to turn into my therapy session, now did you?

day fifteen with nat

she treats me differently now. not in a bad way, though. it’s like she respects me more, but also cares more, y’know? i would almost say she trusts me now, but i think it’s gonna take more time for that. i don’t quite trust her yet either, but i really do think we’ll be able to soon enough. and i think i know what my next question is.

day sixteen with nat 

we’ve returned to our regular routine. she’s starting to open up more, though. even told a joke or two, which was funny but weird to hear, because black widow telling jokes is not something i ever thought i’d experience. still keeping an eye out for anyone who was sent after her. because there will be someone. an asset as infamous as she is would never just be let go like this. i don’t even try to keep her locked up anymore. but she hasn’t tried to leave yet.

day seventeen with nat 

i spotted the russian agents in the market. two of them, both male, late thirties, heavily armed. stuck out so much i’m surprised they weren’t arrested. i’m also surprised they hadn’t sent more, and sooner. i haven’t told her about the agents, but i feel like she knows. wonder if she’d help me or turn against me if they attacked right now. i don’t think anyone could be sure, not even her. taking one more day of recon. i’ll deal with them tomorrow.

day eighteen with nat 

three more arrived. brought even more weapons with them. they’ve fortified the place they’re staying at like it’s a damn bunker. given that i have her with me, i’m thinking it’s a bit too dangerous to go in. we’re switching locations asap.

day nineteen with nat 

my shoulder hurts like hell, and nat looks like she’ll kill me if i keep writing and upsetting my wound. i’ll tell you what happened tomorrow.

what happened on day nineteen with nat 

it was…hectic, to say the least. i went out to make sure our course out was clear, ended up in a firefight with four out of the five agents. i had taken out two of them when the fifth appeared and shit started to hit the fan. got shot in the shoulder. kept going, took another one out, but i was pretty sure i was dead. they had superior weapons, more people, could call for back up, and they had the high ground, a la star wars, and i was the anakin of this equation. then she showed up. it may be hard to believe, but romanoff saved my life. she took out the two remaining agents, carted me back to the safehouse, and patched me up best she could. i don’t know why she did it. but she did.

day twenty with nat 

“i know you want to ask why i did it. save your question. i don’t know why. i’m not supposed to know why, or ask why. at least, i’ve never been supposed to before. why is for guitar players and americans, after all.” that last line… i could tell it wasn’t something she had just come with by herself. that was the sort of thing you learned, the sort of thing you had drilled into your head until you couldn’t really remember anything else. i trust her now, tentatively. but i don’t think she quite trusts herself.

day twenty-one with nat 

the shoulder wound isn’t as bad as i thought, i’ll be fine soon enough. nothing too exciting happened today, though i have-nevermind. this is a field journal, not a notebook.

day twenty-two with nat

i’m only required to right down what i see, right? and any thoughts pertinent to the mission. wonder how many poor agents have thanked god that the requirements don’t include feelings. the day passed without incident. i think she’s waiting for me to ask my question. it is my turn, after all. i’m not sure if i’m ready to ask it, though. even just hearing about things like that can change you, or just mess you up pretty bad.

day twenty-three with nat

i asked her the same question she asked me. and she told me her tragic backstory. nit all of it, she doesn’t know me well enough for that yet. but-christ. i think she spared me some of the worst bits, not to mention all the gory details. is this why you sent me? is this why you sent the newbie to take out the black widow? cause you knew i’d sympathize with her, maybe even disobey orders and try to help her? cause you knew that she needed that help? i don’t know whether i should thank you or tell you to go to hell, nick.

day twenty-four with nat

she’s been avoiding me like the plague. i think she thinks that telling me what she did would make me believe that she’s a monster like she does, when in reality that’s one of the last things i’d ever think of her. i’m going to talk to her tomorrow.

day twenty-five with nat

we talked. actually, we did more than talk. and y’know what? i’m not gonna tell you what happened. draw your own conclusions, make your own guesses. the truth, well, you could say that it’s…classified. what happened that night is between me and her. nobody else needs to know. not even you, director. i also talked to her about joining us in shield. she said yes. congratulations, sir. you’ve gotten another living legend to join your ranks. the black widow. she’s going to be your best agent one day, i know she is. she’ll surprise you, just you wait. agent natasha romanoff. i like the sound of that. and i think she does, too.

#textpost #eliza writes #clintasha #blackhawk #clint x natasha #clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #black widow #the winter soldier #maria hill #nick fury #director nick fury #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

[parabcllums]

⌜   DIEGO LUNA, CIS MALE, HE / HIM   |   the war by syml, melancholic, the jester   ⌟    ⏤   blink and you’ll miss CLINTON FRANCIS BARTON, the hero for hire that goes by HAWKEYE ! last i heard, they’d settled down and had children with BARBARA MORSE, though apparently they’ve SEPARATED. they’re a professor of ARCHERY & GYM at paragon academy in addition to being a SHIELD AGENT ASSIGNED TO CAMPUS, and i’ve always found them to be pretty INNOVATIVE & BENIGNANT, though i’ve heard that they can also be really UNDEPENDABLE & OBSTINATE. do you think they’ll give me an autograph? you can check out his stat page HERE and his pinterest board HERE.

  CONGRATULATIONS,              on the mess you’ve made of things.

SECTION ONE OF THREE : BULLET POINT HISTORY. trigger warnings for talk of child abuse and death.

clinton francis “clint” barton was born on june 18th, 1974, in waverly, iowa. his mother was edith, and his supposed father was harold - an abusive, alcoholic butcher shop owner who always kinda knew that clint wasn’t his kid, and let his feelings about that out with his fists. his older ( half ) brother was charles bernard - also known as “barney” - and over his early years, he would become the most important figure in clint’s life. as mentioned, harold was wildly abusive ; both to his wife, and to his sons. clint hated him, and he hated his mother - a weak willed woman who even now he harbors some degree of contempt for, left over from a childhood of her turning the other way and allowing harold do what he did.

he suffered through a lot, in a very short amount of time, and hospital visits were numerous for the youngest barton - coming to a head when one night, his father’s attack on him left him partially deaf in one ear. he didn’t want to invest in helping clint, so barney took it upon himself to not just teach clint some asl, but also to teach him how to protect himself. in his words, teaching clint to think of everything like a weapon - something to hit harold with, when he came knocking. the boys would hide out for hours at a time on the roof of their home or in the barn, and as both got older, tried to go toe to toe with harold on more than one occassion. things would have gotten worse for them, if it hadn’t been for the accident.

harold crashed the family car into a tree on his way home one night. edith was in the passenger seat. the two of them died instantly, and clint and barney were shuttled off fairly quick to a foster home. and then another. and then another. you get the picture. if they weren’t sent away because of being generally unruly, the boys found a way to run. eventually, that led to them running into a literal circus, which they proceeded to join, seeking out the family that they had never really have.

clint was obsessed with it all - the glitz and the glam isn’t exactly the right turn of phrase, but he lived for the adrenaline rush. he was a talented gymnast, and he eventually came under the wing of the original swordsman and trick shot, who built on barney’s earlier lessons of self defense, but honed his skill with weapons. he was good with a sword. he was better with a bow. and when barney tried to sway clint into caring about his future - into doing his GED, like him - they would argue. their relationship, deteriorating a little more each time.

eventually, clint discovered that the swordsman was embezzling money - and his moral compass, though dusty, kicked in. he would’ve turned him over to the police, had it not been for him proceeding to get the shit kicked out of him, and barney choosing to turn his back on him once and for all. barney joined the army and left - and after witnessing heroes on the news, clint decided that maybe he could use his talent ( at this point being a star attraction at the circus ) for good. he donned a costume, he went out making an attempt to fight crime - and the local authorities confused him with an actual thief, which only led to him deciding that if that was what people were going to view him as, he might as well be one. the black widow - natasha romanoff - enlisted him as a partner, and the two clashed with the betterknown costumed heroes on multiple occasions.

soon enough, clint got tired of that life, and he approached the avengers with a proposition. he would use his talents for them, instead, and... feel better about himself in the process? unclear. tony stark vouched for him, he joined a team with steve rogers & wanda and pietro maximoff, and though they were thought of as being lesser than the original avengers team... they all, clint included, proved themselves.

he fought with steve, resenting that he was leader and clint was not - but over time, learned to respect him. he operated as goliath, he left the avengers a couple times, he did a bunch of stuff and saved the world tons, and then on one such leave of absence where he became the security chief for cross technological enterprises, he was kidnapped ( alongside bobbi morse ) by crossfire as part of a master plan to kill the avengers ( first by killing him, and then by killing the rest when they showed up for his funeral ). the plan was to use hypnotic ultrasounds to force the two of them to kill one another, but clint stuffed a sonic arrow of his own creation into his mouth in a brief moment of lucidity and managed to disrupt the ultrasounds by deafening himself even more - allowing him to knock bobbi out and defeat crossfire, once and for all. this was a pivotal point in his life, not just because of being rendered 80% deaf and being forced to readjust his life to this. he also fell for bobbi, who felt responsible for what had happened to him and wanted to try and help. they met, they loved, they married within nine days - and their relationship, or lack thereof at times, has been continuous ever since.

he led the west coast avengers, he got stranded in ancient egypt, he fought his own brother who then died and cam back and died again ( and came back ), he and bobbi broke up, they got back together, it was revealed she was a skrull, the real bobbi apparently died, he took a break from being a hero to mourn, he rejoined the avengers, got killed by an exploding kree ship ( thanks wanda ), came back to life thanks to an altered universe, died again, came back again ( thanks wanda ), operated as ronin for a time after the apparent assination of captain america,  found bobbi safe and well ( ok, after a whole big skrull thing ), learned that his beloved ( ex ) wife had wanted to divorce him before she had gotten replaced by a skrull, became leader of the new avengers, saved the world a bunch, made mistakes, joined a new team, started sharing the hawkeye monikor with kate bishop, almost went blind, joined the secret avengers, started to lead them, fought against the x-men due to the whole phoenix force / hope summers thing, sacrificed himself for scarlet witch so that phoenix powered emma frost wouldn't kill her, almost died, got healed, moved into an apartment in brooklyn with a brand new purpose in life and.. that's kind of, really, more where we sit. there was a bunch of other stuff ( like all the civil war business, etc ), but i like to kind of ... come at things from a point after matt fraction’s hawkeye, where clint took on russian thugs and ended up buying an apartment building. not in that exact order. also with more details thrown in.

SECTION TWO OF THREE : HEADCANONS. trigger warnings for talk of miscarriage, depression and ptsd.

currently, clint is still in his... rediscovering exactly what he wants to be stage of life, and working for shield as an agent assigned to campus works for him. he still considers himself an avenger, still works under his alias and is still, you know, doing what he’s gotta do - but he’s taking days as they come

he and bobbi have a nine year old son named lark sein morse, and he’s... pretty much clint’s whole reason to get up in the morning, though there is a feeling that he’s closer to his mother than he is, him. they ( clint and bobbi ) are not currently together, and haven’t really been so as long as lark has been alive - though they were on again, off again a lot over the years, and clint will always sort of class her as the love of his life... even if they aren’t married. bobbi suffered a miscarriage early on in the first version of their relationship to one another - lark is their rainbow baby.

he suffers from post traumatic stress disorder from his childhood, and from... a lot of the things that have happened to him, over the years. he’s also heavily depressed, and has only really recently begun to seek out the kind of help that he really needs ( the fact that shield offers free therapists to people working for them? a huge plus )

 he has a dog named lucky who he absolutely ADORES, but who gets swiped semi regularly by kate.

he’s also... actually pretty well off, though you would NOT know that just from looking at him. clint owns his apartment building in brooklyn and has a lot of money saved up from over the years. he could live a high class life, if he so chose, but he prefers to live modestly.

SECTION THREE OF THREE : WANTED CONNECTIONS.

friends :(

also . believe it or not. clint has been... a huge ladies man for a very long time, so by all means - past flings, past serious relationships, the whole thing.

bobbi morse !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also nat romanoff

his two kids. they’re between the ages of 17 - 26, and he doesn’t know about them, though it’s ENTIRELY possible that they know / have been told who he is / to them, and i am rly into the idea of getting to play it out. 

#⌜ ･ﾟ ➤ ･ * you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world ― biography. ⌟ / barton.

[spidergwenstefani]

Aaaand these are the last bits I’ll post, but here’s the intro to a high school AU and a moment from my DC crossover chapter 2

Clint lets his converse thud against the diner counter, sipping on his strawberry milkshake and trying really hard to ignore the unreadable look Natasha is giving him.

She wants something.

Natasha makes him free diner food all the time. He says it’s because she doesn’t like having nothing to do. She says it’s because he can’t be trusted to feed himself on his own. They both pretend it’s not because Clint’s stomach is always growling and his wallet keeps getting emptied into the my-idiot-brother-needs-more-money fund.

So he gets free diner food any day of the week, which makes the plate of fries in front of him not at all amiss. The milkshake, though? Natasha never makes him milkshakes.

Not unless she wants something.

“What do you want?” Clint asks, but only once the milkshake is halfway gone. Natasha leans over the counter, playing up the puppy dog eyes and pouty lips because they both know popping the buttons on her old-timey waitress uniform isn’t going to work on him.

“Tony Stark wants to ask Steve Rogers to the homecoming dance,” she says, twirling his straw wrapper around her finger in a way that’s not at all casual.

“Steve hates Tony,” Clint says, because he does. The two of them have been at each other’s throats since Tony came to town last year, all loud and gilded and grating against everything Steve Rogers has ever been about. Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Steve thinks he hates Tony. He won’t shut up about him.”

“He won’t shut up about how much he hates him,” Clint says. Natasha balls up his straw wrapper and flicks it at him.

“Trust me, if they spend a little more time together, Steve will get his head out of his ass and realize Tony’s trying harder than he thinks he is.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Clint’s getting a brain freeze so he abandons the milkshake in favor of fries, stuffing a few in his mouth as Natasha dials the pout up even further. Never a good sign.

“Where Steve goes, Bucky goes. And Bucky really does hate Tony.”

Clint pauses his work on the plate of fries. Bucky Barnes is like Steve’s bodyguard. Ever since they were kids and Steve was still a scrappy string bean of a thing. He’s got the looming death glare down to a T, but he’s more than just a scowling accessory. Bucky’s one of the most popular guys in school. Probably the most popular, now that they’ll be starting senior year. He’s charming and handsome, the star quarterback even after Steve hit his growth spurt and joined the football team. He has a cherry red Mustang convertible and a varsity letter in football and track. He’s so far out of Clint’s high school experience that thinking about him tends to make him dizzy.

Natasha is giving him a searching look, so he swallows his mouthful of fries.

“I still don’t get it.”

“You’re impossible,” she says. “If Bucky’s there while Tony’s trying to woo Steve, it’ll never work. We need you to hang out with him, get the two of them apart so Tony has a chance.”

Clint drops one of the fries, the ketchup he globbed onto it splattering on the linoleum. He makes a noise of disappointment, ducking below the counter to pick it up.

“Why am I the one hanging out with him?” Clint asks, voice muffled as he tries to reach the fallen fry without getting off his stool.

“Because Bucky Barnes has had a ridiculous crush on you since sixth grade.”

“What?” Clint comes up too fast and slams his shoulder into the underside of the counter, sending napkin dispensers rattling and knocking over a few laminated menus. By the time he manages to get his head above the counter, Natasha is barely holding back laughter. She hands him a napkin which Clint takes resentfully, glaring at her as he wipes the ketchup off his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not a joke. Natasha never jokes about things like this.

“Clint,” she sighs, pushing the shake towards him. An obvious yet effective distraction technique. “You literally ran away and joined the circus. Twice. Bucky Barnes brings trouble everywhere he goes, and you find enough of that on your own.”

“That’s just because he hangs out with Steve,” Clint mumbles as he drains the rest of the milkshake, although they both know that’s only a little true. His head is spinning, and not just because he slammed it on the counter.

“Which brings us back to the original topic,” Natasha says. “Will you help me or not?”

“Why are you so invested?” Clint digs the cherry out of the shake glass, popping it in his mouth, stem and all.

“Believe it or not, I do get tired of drama sometimes. As entertaining as all the unresolved sexual tension is, I’d rather see Steve and Tony just get over themselves.”

“So what?” Clint asks around the cherry stem in his mouth. “You want me to go out with Bucky? You think I could seduce a guy who won homecoming king two years in a row?” He spits out the cherry stem, years of habit making him proudly show the knot to Natasha before he can remember he’s sort of mad at her. She just smirks.

“Maybe show him that trick.”

Clint can feel himself turn red, pointedly ignoring the comment.

“Just because he liked me a while ago doesn’t mean he still does. I can’t compete with, I don’t know. Sharon Carter. Or Bobbi Morse.”

“You’re an idiot,” Natasha says fondly, reaching over the counter to ruffle his hair. “Trust me, he’s halfway gone on you already.”

>>=========>

“So what, I just walk up to him and ask him out?” Clint squints up at the blue of the sky. It’s been three days since Natasha presented her plan to him. Three days of Clint’s head being filled with nothing but Bucky Barnes and his dark red letterman jacket. To make matters worse, school’s started again, and Clint’s head full of Bucky Barnes daydreams keeps getting derailed by the presence of actual Bucky. Clint spent the whole first day tripping over himself every time Bucky said hi to him. And then he spent all of lunch mulling over how Bucky’s always said hi to him.

“That’s usually how it’s done, yes.” Natasha says, combing her fingers through his hair. After Clint stumbling through day one of senior year like some crush-addled zombie, they’ve taken up their old spot on the bleachers of the football field. There’s always a mad rush in the parking lot, and Natasha is not known to be kind to permit drivers, so they watch football practices for a while instead. Clint’s laying on his back, head in Natasha’s lap.

“I can’t do this,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Tony said he’d pay you.” Clint cracks an eye open to see Natasha’s amused smirk.

“Really? How much? Wait, no. That’s gross. I can’t believe I even thought about it. Oh. I feel gross.” He waves his hands in front of his face as if he can shoo the thought away.

The shrill sound of a whistle comes from down on the turf, weird and tinny through Clint’s aids. He pointedly does not watch the field. He knows Bucky’s running drills and he doesn’t need any shiny football pants added to the montage in his head.

“Well,” Natasha says looking at something across the field. “It looks like you won’t have to walk up to him.”

Clint bolts upright in time to see Bucky Barnes climbing the bleachers, blatantly ignoring the designated steps in favor leaving muddy footprints across the seats. He has his helmet tucked under his arm, his face sweaty and glistening under the sun, but when he beams at them, Clint feels blinded for an entirely different reason.

“Hey,” Bucky says a little breathlessly as he stops a few rows below Clint and Natasha. “How was your summer?”

Clint just gapes at him, any conversational abilities evaporating at the sight of Bucky Barnes combing his fingers through his sweaty hair. He hates Natasha. He hates her for planting this seed in his head. This never used to be a problem.

“Pretty uneventful, you?” Natasha jumps in, and Clint loves her. He loves her so much for saving the moment before he stretches it into an awkward silence.

“Same. I spent most of the time helping my dad at the garage.”

And that’s a real shame, because now Clint’s head is swirling with images of Bucky in a tank top, mechanic jumpsuit tied at the waist and engine grease smudged along his bicep. He must have made some kind of noise, because now both Bucky and Natasha are staring at him expectantly.

“Do you want to see a movie on Friday?” Clint blurts out, too loud and not at all smooth. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up and his helmet slips right out from under his arms, clanging against the metal of the bleachers. He scrambles for it, missing the way Natasha pats Clint approvingly on the arm.

“Wha- this Friday?” Bucky manages, and the small part of Clint’s stomach that didn’t drop into his shoes starts to feel a little giddy at how much Bucky is blushing. He recovers a little bit, gripping his helmet with white knuckles “They’re playing E.T. at the drive in.”

“I love E.T.,” Clint says, and he does, but if Natasha held a gun to his head and asked him what E.T. was about at this exact moment, he wouldn’t be able to answer.

“Cool. Awesome. Cool.” Bucky has a big goofy grin to match Clint’s. “I’ll. Um. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Yeah. Okay. Seven is great.”

“Great,” Bucky echoes, hugging his helmet to his chest. Natasha clears her throat, and Bucky turns to her as if he’s just realized she’s still here.

“I think Steve’s trying to get your attention,” she says with a smirk. The three of them turn to the bottom of the bleachers, where Steve Rogers is waving his arms in the air.

...

“Start talking,” Batman orders, his eerily pointed gloves clacking against the keyboard. “I want to know exactly how much our universes match up.” He pauses, turning towards him, and Clint gets the sense that he’s being scanned through the opaque eyeholes of the mask. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Oliver Queen, would it?”

“Nope,” Clint says, rubbing absentmindedly at his still sore wrist. “Try Barton, Clinton Francis.”

One quick search later and the computer yields no matches, which puts Clint more at ease than Batman. It’s nice to know there’s not another one of himself running around in this dreary universe, but Batman doesn’t seem quite satisfied.

“You don’t know who I am, but you aren’t phased by the cape and the mask,” he rumbles. Batman’s toned down the demon voice to a low growl, but he’s still got a hoarseness that could rival Wolverine. “You’ve seen plenty of our kind before. Who are the heroes of your universe?”

“Well,” Clint says, weighing his options for all of two seconds. Batman still gives him some major heebie-jeebies, and rattling off intel on his teammates might not be the best tactical move, but he needs to earn some trust here, not to mention his Earth has dealt with way worse threats than some guy in a bat suit that spends his nights beating up old-timey gangsters. “That’s kind of a loaded question.”

Batman leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Clint get the sense that there’s one raised eyebrow behind his cowl.

“You mean you don’t have good guys? Sworn protectors of the common people?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Clint huffs, because it kinda seems like the guy that lives in a Doctor Doom lair and dresses like a vampire on super serum is accusing his world of too much moral ambiguity. “There’s all the Avengers, obviously. Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Black Widow. Our roster isn’t really set in stone, you know? And there’s the Young Avengers, the Defenders, the Guardians, the X-Men, the Fantastic Four, A-Force, the Howling Commandos, New Warriors, the Thunderbolts, uh, sometimes. Alpha Flight, if we’re counting Canada. Then there’s-”

“That’s enough,” Batman says, which is probably good because Clint hasn’t even gotten to the spin-offs yet. “No Justice League, then?” Clint snorts.

“That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“The Avengers?” Batman says. “The Defenders?”

“Well it’s not the Vengeance Guild is it? It’s not the Group of People Who Defend Things.” There’s a muscle twitching in Batman’s jaw, and Clint remembers a little belatedly that he’s not exactly a welcome guest. “So, um. No overlap, I’m guessing?”

“Not with the names you gave,” Batman says. He pauses, and his next words come out more cautious. “You’ve never met Superman, then? Or Wonder Woman?”

Clint tries really, really hard not to smile, because what is with this universe and names? Something must show on his face, though, because Batman sighs wearily.

“‘Captain America’ and ‘Iron Man’ aren’t better.”

“Yeah, I bet Superman’s name is a holdover from the World War II propaganda machine, and Wonder Woman is just a big fan of Black Sabbath.”

“You haven’t given me your name,” Batman says, more gravel edging into his voice. “What is it, Purple Arrow?”

“That’s just lazy,” Clint says, hopping down from his perch so he can puff out his chest properly. “No, you’re in the presence of Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye. The world’s greatest marksman. The people’s avenger. The greatest sharpshooter known to man. The-”

“The public knows your identity?”

Clint deflates a little, because he was really just getting warmed up.

#wip

[imagine-loki]

Wedded Bliss

TITLE: Wedded Bliss CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 18 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Odin determined to find Loki a wife in a misguided, though somewhat well-intentioned attempt to ‘mellow him’. … RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: There’s a line in this chapter that I am absurdly proud of, and if you guys know me even a little, you’ll know it when you read it…

____________________________

They were, as Steve had guessed, just a bit too late to stop the portal being opened; reaching the vicinity of the tower just as a beam of energy shot up into the sky and seemingly tore it open. Tony had sent word to JARVIS along the way and a suit flew up into the open quinjet, assembling itself around him as they looked on to the stream of aliens descending towards the city.

“Well, that’s… huh,” Tony commented somewhat lamely.

“We need a plan,” Edith said, a bit of worry creeping into her voice at the sheer number of enemies.

“We need to get their attention,” Tony said mostly to himself before leaping out and flying towards the portal and the chitauri.

“Or you could do that,” Edith said sarcastically.

“We have to draw them away from the civilians,” Steve said, not even bothering with Tony’s disregard for actual, team-involved planning. They could argue about it later, assuming they all survived, like always. He looked to Clint. “Drop us off along the way then get to the tower; someone has to shut that thing down.”

“Got it.”

He then turned to Edith. “You’re with me; you know the drill.”

Edith nodded and pulled her goggles down over her eyes. For a split second, Loki didn’t look particularly pleased with the decision, but quickly shoved the concern aside, remembering what he’d said before. They had never faced the chitauri before, but it was hardly the first battle for any of them and the odd group of mortals had been a team for a lot longer than Loki had known them, so it was safe to assume they knew how they worked best with each other. Besides, he thought to himself, he could always join them later if the situation allowed for it.

In the air, Tony began shooting down as many chitauri as he could, trying to get as many of them to go after him instead of the people below who were only beginning to grasp what was happening, scrambling to get out of the way of the strange creatures firing at them on the streets and ducking into the first potential cover they could reach. He wasn’t as successful as he would have liked but did get some of their attention as several squadrons began to turn in his directions intending to pursue.

Clint dropped the quinjet as close to the ground as he dared among the chitauri going after people on the street; Steve pulled his shield off his back and jumped right out to land on a group, knocking them all down before rolling to his feet and bashing the one in front of him with enough force to crack its skull. Edith sent a quick nod to the gods before following the soldier out, landing into a roll and throwing her hands out as she righted herself, setting loose the exploding orbs within them and taking out all the aliens in front of her, then she ran up to another, dodging the blast of its weapons and jumping to bring her knee connecting with its face harshly.

As soon as they had exited the aircraft Clint pulled back up and moved on, intending to drop the asgardians off somewhere else they could be of help. Given that Thor had held his own against the Hulk, the archer figured him and his brother could handle the greater numbers the closer to the tower they got, and so he flew the jet straight into a large number of chitauri.

“Hope you like a crowd.”

Thor let out a laugh. “When this is over; we must share drink and stories.”

With that the older prince leap out of the jet and right into the middle of the fray, and Loki shook his head with a slight smile of his own before following after him, landing on the ground in time to see Thor cleaving his way through the creatures as though they were nothing. He wasted no time to find his own targets, movements a blur as he slashed away with his daggers, focusing more on the creatures attempting to make their way towards the fleeing civilians.

The quinjet was once again making its way to the tower, taking out any alien aircrafts unfortunate enough to get in the way of the determined agents aboard. They had reached the roof when Clint dove to the side to avoid a blast from the strange sceptre the enemy carried, the very same that had nearly killed him when the cube was taken; the blast instead took out one of the jet’s wings and Clint swore as he turned trying to direct them to as safe a landing as he could.

“Really hate that guy,” Clint ground out as he dodged buildings and alien aircrafts alike.

“At least now we know Dr. Selvig’s still alive. For now,” Natasha said, bracing herself for the impact that came soon after.

“Doubt that’s going to be the case for long,” Clint replied as they left their seats and grabbed their weapons, shoving his attention away from the headache that was forming. There would be time for that later. Maybe.

They exited the downed jet side by side, firing away at the chitauri awaiting them outside and making every shot count. “The quinjet is down; we need a new plan,” Natasha spoke into her comm.

“Oh, Fury’s gonna love that,” Tony commented, taking out a handful of chitauri ships with a volley of missiles from his shoulders, “I got my hands full, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Watch out for that sceptre,” Clint warned, “It packs a hell of a punch.”

“You know, it’s sweet how you worry. I knew you cared.”

“Kiss my ass, Stark.”

“Clinton Francis Barton, I did not know you were an exhibitionist,” Tony gasped with mock shock.

“Oh, my god, Tony!” Edith laughed, almost missing her target as she threw another handful of explosives.

“Why do I even bother?” Clint muttered, a corner of his lips turning upwards despite his efforts.

“You know why,” Tony replied smugly.

Edith ducked as Steve came to stand over her defensively, shield blocking a blast from a chitauri weapon; as they stood she looked up to the portal and her eyes widened, prompting Steve to look as well just in time to see a frankly enormous… thing come flying out. It somewhat resembled some kind of serpent. It flew down, more chitauri dropping from it as it weaved through the buildings.

“Guys, are you seeing this?” Steve asked, not quite believing his eyes.

“Seeing,” Tony replied as he changed direction and flew more-or-less parallel with the creature from a distance, “Still working on believing. Where’s Banner? Has he shown up yet?”

“Banner?” Steve asked back confusedly, looking down at Edith, who returned the look with a shrug.

“Just keep me posted.”

Natasha dove behind an overturned car, the blast just narrowly missing her, and dropped her empty guns. “I’m out!”

Clint fought his way through the chitauri surrounding him with his bow until he reached her. “A hand would be appreciated here, guys.”

“On our way,” Steve replied, nodding to Edith to follow him before leading the way through the streets.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #wedded bliss #chapter 18 #malicemanaged #wife #odin #thor #well-intentioned #woman #mellow #frustrated #pendant #symbol #enchants #nine realms #midgard #reluctant #future bride #crazier

[madetobeworthy]

I’m a slut for tag memes

I was tagged by @mollynoble because she loves me

NAME/NICKNAME: Arcee/Kami HOGWARTS HOUSE: Ravenclaw, but my true house is Slytherclaw because I hat stall every single god damn time, FAVORITE COLOR:  orange/pink/purple FICTIONAL CHARACTER I’D LIKE AS A SIBLING:  Diana Prince. And jokes on you she is my sibling, we are all sisters. NUMBER OF BLANKETS I SLEEP WITH: two, but sometimes it’s three when I can steal the hawkeye blanket my mom crocheted for me away from my cats... DREAM VACATION:   literally any? I’ve always wanted to go to Disney Land/World. I’ve never been to any theme park and I think it would be fun. WHAT I AM CURRENTLY WEARING: black pajama pants with skulls and green flannel WHAT I POST: whatever the fuck I want. mostly me whining about shit, winterhawk, and kylux DO I GET ASKS ON A REGULAR BASIS: sometimes. depends on the day and how many ask memes I’ve reblogged :P AESTHETIC: I’m aiming for witchy and otherworldly and vaguely terrifying but usually I just get hipster gay or person who can’t let go of their emo phase. (it’s true, I can’t, and no one can make me) LAST THING GOOGLED:  Patricide. I wanted to make sure I was spelling it right. WHY DID I CHOOSE MY URL:  In 2011 this movie came out about this Norse god and I kind of fell in love with the bad guy (what else is new) and so I wanted to do something in relation to that. And so madetobeworthy.  AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:  6 to 8 if I’m lucky and too much on weekends playing catch up. LUCKY NUMBER: I always say 666 cause that was my birthday one time. FAVORITE CHARACTER: Clinton Francis Barton who is the light of my life and brings me the little joy I am capable of feeling DREAM JOB: I don’t know if I have a ‘dream job’ but the job I’m at is probably the closest thing to it. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy and stress free (not to say there isn’t still stress and depression stopped existing but financial stability and a work environment that supports your weirdness helps) FOLLOWING: 268 - I just did a purge of inactives and people who were bringing wank onto my dash.

I’m tagging whoever wants to do this and then I’m going to bed.

#so much for my 400 more words for tonight.... #tag meme