Clint Barton. Ronin. Former Hawkeye. Ex criminal. Ex SHIELD agent. Now rejoined Avenger and part of whatever is left of SHIELD. I might have swapped the bow for a sword, but don't let that fool you: I am still one of the best.
[Clint Barton RP blog, post CA:TWS by default, but accepts other verses too. Part of the Assvengers, but open to everyone. Semi selective. MCU with dashes of comic canon (Ultimates/616) and own headcanons.]
Tony nodded, his throat too tight to talk immediately. Scooting closer, he tucked himself against Clint’s front, one arm curling around his waist while the fingers of his other hand splayed on his chest.
"I know," he said softly, almost a whisper. "And that scares the shit out of me sometimes. But…" It was hard to say it, harder than it should have been for anyone else, but Tony’s past experiences had made him wary of giving it so freely. "…I trust you."
A slow smile spread on Clint’s face. He knew Tony’s trust was a hard thing for him to give still, even now, where Clint could drag his hands casually over Tony’s chest without the look of terror in the other’s eyes. It always pained his heart, to have Tony trust him this way, when the thought of not being able to do this totally had occured to Clint. Just on instinct, maybe, but it had…
"Just remember that I wouldn’t be here, if I wasn’t 100 percent sure that I love you", he replied, kissing Tony’s forehead and letting one hand trail over his spine. "If I wanted to leave, I would have jumped out of the window the day I invited you to sleep at my place, probably."
"More on my part," he admitted with a shrug. "People get tired of me. Waiting for it to happen is a hard habit to break." He broke eye contact, his gaze darting around to find a safe place to look. "Sorry, I know we’ve talked about it before, I just…"
"No, it’s alright." He had asked after all, and well, Tony’s insecurities were based on experience and Clint himself had a great habit of fucking things up. "I was just…because, you know, it just hit me that we’re pretty serious by now." And feeling a slight pang of panic at that realization was as much of a habit as Tony waiting to be left. None of his serious partners really ever made it far.
Clint didn’t want to run though.
Move the ‘X’ to the box that most applies to your character.
[ ] Lawful Good
Acts with compassion and a sense of duty. The type to uphold a sworn oath and will protect innocents at most costs.
[ ] Neutral good
Acts with in a positive manner, although will not value tradition or rules to act as such.
[X ] Chaotic Good
Acts with a rebellious, free-spirited nature but still quite positively. They do the right thing, but are often disorganized and/or not aligned with the rest of society.
[ ] Lawful Neutral
Acts with a strong belief in concepts like honor, rules, and code. Typically places a strong faith in order- they obey or give orders.
[ ] True Neutral
They don’t align strongly with good or evil, nor do they with chaotic or lawful. They usually are undecided between the 4 sections or just gravitate right in the middle.
[ ] Chaotic Neutral
Acts with strong individualist nature and they have a very ‘screw the rules!’ attitude. The individual will follow their heart and promote freedom, but theirs comes first.
[ ] Lawful Evil
Acts with honor, but don’t care in the slightest for the freedoms and rights of others. Very concerned with self-benefit at times, and will twist rules and codes to favor them.
[ ] Neutral Evil
Acts extremely selfishly with no problems concerning betraying others at a moment’s notice. They typically make allies just to further themselves.
[ ] Chaotic Evil
Acts with no respect for anything except their own desires and selfish goals. They place high value on freedom for the self, but do not care for others’ freedoms. Often associated with chaos and destruction.
Tony stroked his thumb over Clint’s hipbone, barely covered by the sheet, and gave him a tight smile. “Sometimes, yeah.”
He searched Tony’s face, almost too comfortable for this conversation, but well…lying curled around each other in bed, sometimes your mind just started to worry. “About us? I mean, we both don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to past partners…”
That’s not an actual angel you know.
"It’s not supposed to be an actual angel…it’s just meant to be a cute snow thng."
”Poor boy,” Baldr murmured sympathetically, a minute shake of the head, as if disappointed, as if pitying the mortal’s ignorance. How sad to be so young, to never be old and wise and seeing, to live like a worm among the earth and never truly know the stars. The poor writhing creature. As disgusting as it was to touch, the god still gritted his teeth as his hand reached out.
Not to offer help. The welp didn’t deserve that, playing brave as he was. Instead the near-scalding touch wrapped around the fragile throat, so easily breakable beneath the iron-hard skin. It would be all too easy to fracture the vertebrae, to send hair-line cracks throughout the small bones with so little pressure, to crumple veins and force the blood to dam and clot. So easy.
There was no fun in it.
Easier still was getting into the boy’s head. The child’s mind cried out for it, for the smallest bi of attention, weeping and wailing like some wretched babe demanding food and love. And how interesting that space was. Full of holes and burns, a gaping void that tasted of cold, long-gone solar winds and the scent of a god, or memories replayed so often they were crumpled photographs barely readable.
But a truth-sayer, a truth-speaker, a truth-seer, knew all.
”It must have been hard, cradling your dead wife and children,” the Aesir mused, his fingers settling almost tenderly, while still tight. ”Their blood staining your hands, all that happiness gone… You still scream her name at night, do you not? A name no-one but you remembers, a person only you know and when you die… Well, it will be as if she never lived. Such a pitifully sad life you have lived, so useless and weak…”
The god leaned closer, the movement making to catch the mortal’s eye back to reality, away from the memories he skimmed through.
”I am giving you a chance to do something useful. One bit of knowledge I want, I want to hear you say, that is all. Why, the fate of the universe hangs upon it, but I do not think you care about that. I think you care more to fill that screaming void in your mind, that endless call to return back to a certain Trickster god’s side… Did bowing to his every whim feel good? Did being used by him, as nothing more than a piece of meat and knowledge thrill you? He gave no regard for your soul, but I do… I am giving you a chance to help me kill him.”
A tight squeeze, enough to cut off the mortal’s faint breath, enough to get the message home as the deep brown eyes sparked in an amber flair, like a star blowing super nova for only a second.
”So think again before talking back to me, boy.”
Clint half expected Baldr to just snap his neck after having decided that he was useless for his cause. But those fingers didn’t kill him, and Clint just stared back at him, his eyes defiant. Until Baldr suddenly began talking again and Clint’s expression grew unbelieving and then just sort of blank, as if refusing to hear anything he had to say. “Don’t talk about them”, he hissed - he wasn’t really capable of more right now, not with the hand around his throat.
He wasn’t sure what he felt about the fact that Baldr knew. That he knew about Laura and the boys and about Loki and the hole he had left. That he knew every single thing that kept Clint up at night. For a moment he looked like he would crumble, like he would give in to Baldr’s request for a chance of revenge - because Baldr knew that too, probably, of his thoughts about killing Loki and letting him suffer for what he had done. About punishing him, instead of punishing himself.
The thing was, he didn’t believe Baldr. Maybe he really was convincend that he had ‘any regard for his soul’, but he had shown it by breaking his bones and entering his mind and Clint didn’t feel an ounce of respect for him, nor the will to help him. If he got his revenge on Loki one day, it would be on his own accord.
His eyes still on Baldr, he broke into a lazy smile. “Burn in hell.”