hawksvane

hawksvane said: The archer responded with startled silence, blinking in surprise but not displeasure, the hint of a smirk on his face. “…huh.”                                                                

Steve cleared his throat and backed away from the other. “I.. I uh.. apologize about that, sir…” He stammered, cheeks flushing pink.

Phone calls.

What.

the hell?

He was standing there in the rain staring at God knew what. Just the rain. It felt really nice, falling nonstop against his burning head.

Oh, there it was again. A subtle vibration, something he shouldn’t have noticed in this state, nor in this atmosphere.

A cheap, throwaway phone appeared in his hand, the source of the vibration. It had been in his pocket this whole time. A miracle it wasn’t busted all to hell in this rain.

Not really thinking about it, he flipped it open easily without checking to see who the hell was calling him; neither did he say anything when it reached his ear.

Coulson stopped breathing for a second when he heard the phone pick up, stunned again. Stunned the burn phone was still active and that someone had answered it. Now please just let it be in the possession of the right person.

"Agent Barton, please report. Status, location. Do you require a pickup?" He made himself enunciate carefully, in case reception was bad where Barton was, then hurriedly adding on, "Don’t hang up, Hawkeye. Please."

And hoping, hoping, that against the curl of ice in his gut and veins, that his Hawk was okay, so he could apologize for so many failures.

Archery for Beginners || hawksvane & triednotto

It wasn’t logical that Ariadne was ever going to need to use a bow and arrow. But in her slight acquaintance with Clint Barton, Ariadne knew that he knew a lot more than just archery, and in her quest to defend herself she figured he was a good resource to tap.

Hopefully bribery would work.

Stark Tower was impressive, but frankly Ariadne had some questions about the ‘glass box’ aspect of the architecture. Skyscrapers didn’t have to be devoid of detail…

Hopefully he liked peanut butter cookies.

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A Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏғ Vɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

            Within the flashing lights and the ever present stream of fashion, it was easy for some to imagine something seedy going on behind closed doors of those rich folks that lived up in Beverly Hills. People would whispers and speculate about affairs with stars, drugs and alcoholism and while all those rumours were true (yet never confirmed of course) the real demon behind the closed doors of the rich came in a different form. His name was Adrian Powell and while on the outside he seemed like quite the wealthy businessman with a doting wife, he was in fact the devil. 

            At least that’s what his butler thought. James Barnes had taken the job as butler three years ago when his friend Steve got sick and they could no longer keep up with the cost of the hospital bills. The job had advertised as paying well, with a few perks and when Bucky had interviews, Adrian had hired him half an hour in. That night had been the best of his life since Adrian had given Bucky an advancement on the first month and allowed him to get the help Steve desperately needed. 

            Looking back, James knows he was played. The first few weeks were the expected kind of work and James worked in earnest. However after the first dinner party and a month in, James found out that his contract stated that his job title was more than just the butler. He was also Adrian’s personal whore. The man had a disgusting hobby in which he would hire prostitutes and give them as gifts to his friends at special parties. He’d then film them fucking and keep the tapes for whenever he needed something from one of them.

            As the months progressed, Bucky was forced to take part. Steve’s health had deteriorated and money was needed. In exchange for his service, Steve was given the best medical care in the country. 

            Unfortunately, James heard nothing of him after that. Adrian forced the cutting of contact and after a year, James found himself stuck being butler and whore to a man he despised, a dependency on whatever drug cocktail he was forced to drink at parties and no way out. He lived in the hope that Steve was alive and healthy somewhere and he would continue to hope that one of Adrian’s friends (or even his wife) would get sick of his disgusting games and kill him. One could hope.

            It was a late Thursday afternoon when James had just finished cleaning the kitchen that a car drew up outside. It was not one that James recognised and no one had told him to expect guests. There was a lurch of panic in his throat before he wiped the last of the soap off the counter, dried his hands and darted to the door.

There are things that Bobbi Morse knows well. Her weapons are one. Her body is a weapon on top of the knives and guns and battle staves. She knows these like an extension of herself. She trusts them to not fail on her and the serum only makes her quicker. 

She knows the sound of footsteps, memorized each foot fall. Those are the Directors, those are Hill’s, those are Kate’s, those are Clint’s, and the familiar clip of Lucky’s nails on the tile.

She knows which hangouts are bugged, and which are safe, and which she can get drunk at for only a couple of bucks at the door, and which will just nod her inside no matter who she is with, like she’s some kind of super star. 

The thing she knows the most though is Clint Barton. She’s traced fingertips across old scars, listened to half strangled breaths in the dark. She could identify him by the sound of his heartbeat or the touch of his fingers. 

Much more she knows that he needs patience. He didn’t grow up with a lot of it. You don’t yell at him unless you want him to curl in on himself. No shouting, no throwing things. 

She knows the most important thing though, and it’s touch. It can be the most reassuring thing. A simple reminder that he isn’t alone and this is what she provides time and time and time again, even if he doesn’t want it because it’s the only thing she knows. 

Tнє кιη∂ηєѕѕ σƒ ѕтяαηgєяѕ

            Humans. Since the Lord had seen fit to create them, there had been Angels charged with watching over them. They were never to interfere, most never even considered such a thing, and were to act as simply observers than anything else. On the odd occasion when God was feeling fruitful he would listen to the Angels discuss the going on down on Earth, even listen to recommendations about who could get helped though if one were to plead to passionately about a human, that Angel would no longer be kept close to the human realm. For James Barnes it had been his task for as long as he could remember. Keep watch over the humans, make sure nothing too serious happened. Yet for the Angel, the longer he watched the harder it became to keep quiet.

              He watched with curiosity rather than impartial orders. The amount of sin down on Earth was to be expected but it wasn’t that aspect which had intrigued the Angel, it was the relationships they built with one another. Strangers meeting each other by chance and then becoming the most important thing in the others life, the things they would do together and then die happy. Looking back at his own existence there was no such thing, no chance to meet someone like that and feel those things. Angels were not created to feel anything. Thus when the order came that humanity had become too reckless and God was done with them, the sensations James experienced at the thought of those people becoming nothing, took him by surprise. A lot of plans had to be made and slowly James began to question why.

            Why was everyone to die, why were the good and the righteous not being spared, why the good people that he watched suffer for decades were not being spared or even granted life after death. His questions were met with silence, the louder he protested the worse things got. Plans had to be laid to make the wipe out as effective and as fast as possible, plans James did not agree on and thus voiced angrily how it did not feel right. There was one other Angel, one that had resented James position of power for a long time and when James began to voice his concerns, that very Angel was the one that reported James to be corrupted with sin.

            After that James was all but silenced and sent for re-calibration. Any Angel even suspected of being corrupted was put through re-calibration, things that often made James wonder how any of them could think humanity was cruel when up in heaven there were things much worse. It was something that stuck with James through all the pain and the questions. The more they hurt him, the more James insisted that there was goodness down on Earth, that it was not sin that had corrupted him just doing his job that showed him there was still goodness down there.

            After that he didn’t stand a chance. With the apocalypse looming, James was deemed unfit and cast out of heaven, the last thing he remembered before his world went black was the coldness as they stripped him of his grace.

            When he woke, the first thing he became aware of was the pain. An Angel could certainly withstand a lot more pain than a human, but without his grace to keep the agony at bay or begin the healing it was hot pain that surged through James from all directions. The ground beneath him was wet and cold, his wings shredded and blackened hanging limp from bloodied shoulders. With a croaky groan as he came too, he felt bones shift and his stomach roll with bile; all sensations he was unfamiliar with and it was a harsh shock to the system. With his body all but broken, hid now graceless mind unable to understand how life clung to such a broke form James vaguely realised he had been cast down to Earth to die, and here he would fade along with the rest of humanity.

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