eye-of-hawk-blog

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HIM by Kittrose

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

Oh shit. She seemed pissed.

"Right. Yeah. You know, this'll be fun. No worries. I've worked with all sortsa cyborgs."

Wait, is 'cyborg' PC? 

"Anyway, gotta tell you, I loved working with Tony. Guy practically lives in his suit."

Clint, stop babbling. Shut up. Shut up.

"Anyway. Yeah. Let's do this."

thedeathadder started following you

“I suppose Fury’s hoping to bring the higher-class agents closer together. I’ve already met with that friend of yours—Agent Romanoff, is it?”

She shakes his hand, somewhat self-consciously; her right hand, the dominant one, bore the unfinished, cold metal of the suit Obadiah had fashioned on her.

((Haha, this one made me laugh x) Also, in case you were wondering/interested about the metal, the background information on my page explains it))

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

katherine-hawkeye--bishop started following you

"Uh oh. Here comes some trouble." 98 pounds of ferocious Young Avenger sidled up to him and waved hello. Clint grinned wide. That kid. "So, Katherine Bishop, what did I do to deserve this?"

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"Would I like to sit down? Damnit Rogers, the man who fucking destroyed-" Clint stops, presses his lips into an angry line. He's breathing hard from his nose, shaking his head. His whole body is shaking.

After a moment, he gets a grip. "You think you have it under control," he says, trying not to snarl openly in Steve's concerned face. 

"You mean well, Steve, but goddamn, that is so naïve of you. He's a god. He's always the one in control."

Clint remembered it all too well. The cold clarity of the Loki's orders, his own instincts bent to serve him. Had Steve gone the same way?

Clint and Steve

Clint is tense, his left hand clenching - he wants his bow, it’s pure instinct - but he’s not visiting an enemy.

Steve Rogers has gone too far. Stay calm, Barton. 

Steve answers his door with his perennial mega watt Captain America smile - amiable, warm, a little guarded. “Hello, Barton.”

Clint brushes past him, walks into his apartment, slams the door. He rounds on Steve and stabs an accusatory finger at barrel chest. “Hey, Rogers. You wanna tell me why we have Loki living a few city blocks away from SHIELD in the middle of the city he tried to destroy?”

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Clint looked around - no sign of Demjanjuk. “Aw, hell, this was not supposed to happen,” he muttered. He collapsed his bow, tucked it under his arm, and did a tuck-and-roll to the ground next to the little trespasser.

The girl’s head jerked at the thud of 175 pounds of secret agent landing a few feet away from her. Clint pressed unfurled and strung an arrow in his bow in one swift motion as he sprung to his feet. He leveled the arrow at the interloper.

Two big grey eyes stared tranquilly back at him.

“I’m a secret agent with S.H.I.E.L.D., and you are wanted on suspicion of not being the Ukranian terrorist I was expecting. Who the hell are you?”

Luna pulled out her wand and pointed it at the man.  Her face hardened, taking on a more serious expression.  ”I’m Luna Lovegood with the International Wizarding Zoologists Association.”  A thoughtful look flashed across her face.  ”Did you say SHIELD?  Like Mr. Agent Coulson?”

The tiny girl brandished a stick at Clint. He squinted at her. This isn't his usual assassination. He's finding it difficult not to be amused, but this is an important mission and he's not going to let down his guard for what may turn out to be a very strange diversion tactic.

"Alright, Luna... am I supposed to feel threatened? Also, how is it that you know Coulson?" 

eye-of-hawk:

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

RPers: Reblog if you are 18 or older

This means you are legal in the US and won’t have anyone else arrested for smutting with you if that is so.

So, just please reblog if you are.

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

Clint nods slowly, shifts. "Sure, Nat."

It's these moments that Clint both hates and, secretly, is grateful. It tears him right up to see her shaking and scared, no mistake there. But there's a part of him, a selfish part, that's grateful for these moments of vulnerability. Not because Nat's hurting - no, he fucking hates that. It's because in these moments when she can't keep up the mask, it's Clint she lets in.

Soon she will get up, give him her unreadable sly smile, and walk briskly down the hallway. That's how it goes: Nat on her feet. She's her own agent, completely independent... just as soon as she's back on her feet.

Losing it || Open RP

“Alright, Tasha,” he said, his words barely audible above the deep thrum of the subterranean engines. A lot went on beneath the surface, down in the depths here. “You’re fine, Tasha. You’re fine.” 

He squeezed her shoulder, being careful not to overcrowd her. No more soppiness, he didn’t communicate too well when he really meant something anyway.

Clint didn’t abide by the same mushy sentimentality of the masses, but for a heart hardened by death and pain, a little warmth is quite enough.

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

And just like that, the snake stare was gone and Jim was falling over himself, like a girl with a crush. Jim dressed like a lawyer, talked like another SHIELD fanboy, yet what he's saying is so casually brash...

And then there was the fact that he was standing on the SHIELD lawn and hadn't yet been herded of by security. Clint didn't know what to make of this. Little warning lights blinked in his brain while the voice of Nick Fury hissed: "Barton, you'd better escort that creepy mothafucka out."

"Alright, Jim, glad you think I'm cute but I wonder if you shouldn't be leaving."

pretty-grim-ones-too started following you

“You… huh.”

Clint watched Jim’s head swivel, his nostrils flaring. This guy didn’t seem like a typical SHIELD corporate egghead liaison. Beyond the shiny black shoes and standard rich-guy tailored suit, something about Jim was off. Besides, he was openly insulting SHIELD… that took both ego and insider info. 

And it could be the creepiness playing tricks on him, but now Clint feels like he’s seen Jim before. The chill he feels when those dead eyes watch him is… not unfamiliar.

“Actually, now that I think of it, you’ve hung around SHIELD before, haven’t you? Good to see you, Jim.” Clint steps in, claps him on the shoulder. “Maybe no one’s told you this before, but usually SHIELD doesn’t encourage wanderers.”

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Clint jerks back as Natasha's soft features melt into Loki's sallow ones, sharp cheekbones and hollow cheeks materializing below his rough touch. Loki presses toward Clint. The edge of the desk digs into his back, all of Loki's sinewy weight against his body. 

Of course, Clint had known it was him. And now, with Loki's breath warm against his chest, his cold fingertips pressing against his chin, Clint wants this-

Loki's talking in Natasha's voice. It's disorienting, and Clint rips Loki's hand away from his face and surges forward. The god's teeth are on his collar bones, and Clint pulls Loki's hair, tilting his face up so he can snarl into his ear.

"In your own voice."

Loki's saying he'll make Clint his own again. Don't wanna hear it- don't want to want it. Loki is wrong, and fucked-up, and shared too much of himself, and now Clint needs him back, needs him with a force that's hard to fight.

Always the follower.

Just because it's true, doesn't mean that he's going to- 

Loki runs a hand through Clint's hair and then grabs and handful and yanks, and Clint groans with pleasure.

This is dangerous ground, Barton. Get out of here.

Loki laughs, his teeth bright in the darkness. Clint breathes hard, fighting to keep eye contact, fighting to remain composed, to not fall into Loki's arms.

leave my body || loki and clint

“And under whose jurisdiction do you deserve death, when the rest of us have to muddle through on our own?”

Loki lifts a hand to parry the assassin’s next punch and catches his wrist, twisting it down to his side hard enough that pain fills the man’s eyes. How different it was when he had Barton under his control. That broad face is strange now twisted with emotion rather than coolly complacent and every calculating, the way it was the last time they saw each other.

“Life’s not fair, Agent Barton. I’m not sure if any of your undoubtedly countless miserable experiences has taught you that thus far. There’s nothing that makes you special just because you grew up in hell. Welcome to the universe.”

Spitting, he shoves Barton away to stumble back into the desk and takes a deep breath, drawing his magic to him. In an instant he stands before the Agent not in his own form, but shorter, softer, smelling faintly of coffee, vodka, and vanilla. 

“You can’t help yourself, though, can you, Clint?” he says, in the flat tones of Natasha Romanoff. “You always step in when you can try to save someone worse off than you. Surrounding yourself with irredeemable people makes you feel like less of a failure. I’ve seen it all if your head just as surely as you’ve seen into mine.

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ooc

guys im so so so sorry i really love you but i've been really awful at replies lately

and i just wanna tell you

that i'm a big college girl now and i gotta do college stuff

so i probably will be replying only sporadically for the next few weeks. 

i love you all and i wish i had more time

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

"You... huh."

Clint watched Jim's head swivel, his nostrils flaring. This guy didn't seem like a typical SHIELD corporate egghead liaison. Beyond the shiny black shoes and standard rich-guy tailored suit, something about Jim was off. Besides, he was openly insulting SHIELD... that took both ego and insider info. 

And it could be the creepiness playing tricks on him, but now Clint feels like he's seen Jim before. The chill he feels when those dead eyes watch him is... not unfamiliar.

"Actually, now that I think of it, you've hung around SHIELD before, haven't you? Good to see you, Jim." Clint steps in, claps him on the shoulder. "Maybe no one's told you this before, but usually SHIELD doesn't encourage wanderers."

pretty-grim-ones-too started following you

Jim watched the man’s confusion with his own cold amusement, then mockingly touched his chest. “Oh, dear, I’m hurt. You don’t seem to recognize me at all. And here I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. would at least have heard of me. What a shame.”

He shrugged, and pretended to study their surroundings. “Ah, well. No use teaching the ignorant. A pleasure to meet you, Agent Barton. As for me; curiosity. I like to wander.”

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

((tw: dub con, violence))

Disgusting. It's not Nat, but there's her body standing, arms crossed. She - he - Loki stares at him with an disdain, Nat's pretty mouth pursed, her tiny body advancing on him with far more unbridled anger than Nat would ever let escape.

"Don't you dare, Loki," he says, and steps forward, grabs for the impostor's shoulders. He wants to shake him til his lying teeth rattle in his head. Surprisingly, Loki lets him wrap his hands around Nat's small shoulders, but Loki's sick smile spreads across her face.

"That's right, Barton, remember? You wanted to fuck that Romanoff whore, you're desperate for her-" The words come hard and fast in her voice, and Clint is about to break. "Your lust for me clouds your vision, Clint. You hold me above all. Your tainted goddess."

Clint grabs the lapels of the black SHIELD jumpsuit, (It's Loki, he reminds himself, over and over again). He grabs her chin in one hand, his fingers digging into Nat's soft cheek, wrenching Nat - Loki - close.

"You have no right, Loki," he whispers, his teeth against her earlobe, nausea pounding in his body. Loki shakes with laughter in his arms.

"Again, you would question a god-"

Clint wraps an arm around the small waist, yanks forward, and mashes his lips into Loki's stolen ones.

leave my body || loki and clint

“And under whose jurisdiction do you deserve death, when the rest of us have to muddle through on our own?”

Loki lifts a hand to parry the assassin’s next punch and catches his wrist, twisting it down to his side hard enough that pain fills the man’s eyes. How different it was when he had Barton under his control. That broad face is strange now twisted with emotion rather than coolly complacent and every calculating, the way it was the last time they saw each other.

“Life’s not fair, Agent Barton. I’m not sure if any of your undoubtedly countless miserable experiences has taught you that thus far. There’s nothing that makes you special just because you grew up in hell. Welcome to the universe.”

Spitting, he shoves Barton away to stumble back into the desk and takes a deep breath, drawing his magic to him. In an instant he stands before the Agent not in his own form, but shorter, softer, smelling faintly of coffee, vodka, and vanilla. 

“You can’t help yourself, though, can you, Clint?” he says, in the flat tones of Natasha Romanoff. “You always step in when you can try to save someone worse off than you. Surrounding yourself with irredeemable people makes you feel like less of a failure. I’ve seen it all if your head just as surely as you’ve seen into mine.

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

ooc

hey new followers

message me if you want to start a little somethin

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

Clint held the glass between his thumb and forefingers, swirling it in a way that made him feel like James Bond. He leaned in, taking a quick swig of champagne.  "Mm. Right. Tony, those bad guys... might make an appearance. In fact, long story short, those amobarbital arrows you gave me are really effective-"

"-obviously-" Tony shrugged.

"And have revealed that um. The Bird Has Left The Nest and may be alighting here. Tonight."

Tony squinted at him over the shimmering rim of his champagne flute. Clint's hand brushed the SiG P226 in his jacket pocket.

"And in this one case, Stark, "the bird" is not me. It's not a sure thing, but I'm just tipping you off." 

jarvisismyman started following you

Tony downed another shot. He leaned as delicately as he could against the bar. A woman who had said she was the CEO of an Up and Coming New Technology Company was prattling on about how her company could help him improve his suit by ten fold. He was thoroughly bored of the conversation and the woman’s less-than-subtle advances where irritating him.

“You know, we should go back to the Tower. I could get my hands all over your…suit.” She tired her best to make her whole body seem seductive, leaning in close and pursing her lips slightly. Tony was about to order another shot when he saw Clint approaching. 

He smirked at the woman. He leaned in close and put his lips to her ear, ” You know, I would love to let you handle all of my tools, but unfortunately, I am booked this evening.” The woman looked crestfallen as Tony slipped away. Lord. I wish Pepper was here. She can fight off the harpies like no other. 

Tony clapped Clint on the arm. “Agent Barton! Surprised to see a man like yourself here. Is SHIELD so low on funds that they have started sending their golden boys off to solicit money?” Tony lowered his voice, “Seriously though, Legolas, I thought you where on a mission. Turn the baddy into a pincushion that quickly?” Tony accepted two glasses of champagne from a waiter and offered one to Clint.

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"Hi Marion. So. Cat person?"

He smirked.

"Lady, you have dubious taste in pets but I'm willing to reserve judgement for the moment because it's good to see a face that's not a pissed-off frost giant."

“Same here,” Marion crossed her arms,” Except my boredom is a 24 marathon and an agitated cat….I’m Marion, by the way.”

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Clint faltered almost imperceptibly before grasping and shaking the woman's cold metal hand. 

"Yeah, Nat - good friend of mine!" His eyes flickered to her mechanical arm and back to her face. Was this the sort of thing you politely didn't mention, or...? He was brought up in the circus, where everyone was proud of their little quirks, but if Bruce had taught him anything, people can be a little touchy here.

Okay, Clint, let's not mention it.

He cleared his throat and beamed, looking her squarely in the eye.  "So, Agent Shale. Enough small talk. Fury's got me heading out to Turkey later this evening. Are you in, or are you just testing out the mech...?"

Shit. I mentioned it.

thedeathadder started following you

“I suppose Fury’s hoping to bring the higher-class agents closer together. I’ve already met with that friend of yours—Agent Romanoff, is it?”

She shakes his hand, somewhat self-consciously; her right hand, the dominant one, bore the unfinished, cold metal of the suit Obadiah had fashioned on her.

((Haha, this one made me laugh x) Also, in case you were wondering/interested about the metal, the background information on my page explains it))

[eye-of-hawk-blog]

Clint looked at Jim Moriarty. Black eyes, beady and dark, regard him. Jim Moriarty doesn't look particularly awed by his Avenger status. Who is this guy?

"Yeah. Barton, that's me. What brings you here, Jim?"

pretty-grim-ones-too started following you

“Clint? Wouldn’t happen to be Clint Barton, now would you? I read about you in the newpaper.” Jim had obviously heard more than just what the newpaper had to say, but Barton didn’t need to know that right away.

“I’m Jim - Jim Moriarty.”