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movedto-mastcrmarksman · 1 year ago

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@thefleetsfinest sent the MISTLETOE prompt -> 🌿🍒 x how ever many you want to write for however many muses of any combinations of our blogs. <3 -> well obviously there are three combos of babes i am going to start eith, but I might write more little things uwu

For whatever the real reason mistletoe existed, not the literal plant, but the tradition of hanging it in doorways and KISSING whoever was met underneath was one that Clint followed. Now over the years he has accused, with reasons that were false, that he was using this to kiss anyone and everyone. A seasonal form of Hawkeye harassment.

Now he did in fact kiss, and hey come on it was always a cheek kiss with consent, everyone thst would appear underneath where it was hanging. Somewhere along the way over the years he was sure the meaning if mistletoe and kissing was misconstrued but Clint kept with hanging some up. The REAL reason being was it gave him the opportunity and chance to dote affection for the many, MANY important individuals throughout his life. Fellow avengers, friends he otherwise didn't see often, the inner circle of people that at this point in time Clint could not find himself to be able to live without anymore (that was an alarmingly large circle).

It's a lame excuse he knows, but it felt necessary in many cases when he would again cite the other half wasn't easy to dote on or he didn't see often and OH LOOK OPPS before he move to plant a cheek kiss (pending any rejection). Most of which suffered and let Clint away with this. It's the easiest way to hide affection, to show some of that while giving a lame excuse to pass off than having to admit that the archer superhero's heart was a lot bigger than his chest and there were so many that he appreciated.

Now LEONARD MCCOY was someone who in category C of all places in his life. Primarily meaning he was someone whose come into his life and he didn't think he could live without, someone he trusted implicitly would be there for the next several hundred mistakes and failures Clint would make. Someone who would catch him when he fell again and again.

He's like a brother to him, at the beginning a civilian doctor who saw the injuries he occurred after he came back to life. Scrapping together the pieces of what happened to the world after his sacrifice. Captain America gone, his marriage with Bobbi got a whole lot more complicated when he found out she had been some pawn in a long con Skrull invasion (that further robbed of his sense of reality which he had already been grappling against after everything he vaguely couldn't remember eith Wanda). He wore a different suit then, took a different name because Steve Rogers was dead and he hadn't ever been able to admit how much direction in life that man had given him.

Everyone remembers how he antagonize him but came to trust him more than any man he ever before when Clint was young and in his twenties.

Leonard McCoy had been there when he was piecing everything back together. A lost man himself he would later understand and the southern doctor tended to his scrapes and bruises over the hardest years of Clint's life.

The only person he requested to call while awaiting his trial for the killing of Bruce Banner, the only person who saw him before he vanished from New York City when he needed to try to reclaim some sense of reality, of sanity, when he couldn't get the shake out of his hands because he'd remember the weight of what he did for Bruce. The arrow he gave him, the shape and weight memorable. Leonard knew all of that, listened for months as he struggled his way across the country trying to HELP others and himself.

The friend who got the calls from him when he was living LA and felt like life was okay as he watched Kate with pride resurrect a West Coast team.

So catching Leonard under the mistletoe, he had been on the list of someone who needed to be caught under it. Now his sponsor, best friend, the man who helped him with his own recovery, Clint hardly needed an excuse to show him affection. He thought he was quite affectionate but catching Leonard there was an agenda.

It's a the perfect excuse to show the man how much his friendship had value in his life. He's sure that Leonard knew, how could he not and if he didn't? Well, then Clint has really screwed up here.

Either way, he manages to catch Leonard under the mistletoe, recently hang back up for the man's invitation over to his apartment for quality time because he's family more then friend. His fingers curl into the man's right shoulder, bunching up his shirt and keeping him there. ❝ C'mon, it's tradition. You scared of a little green plant, Doc? ❞ He asks before he's going in for the kiss.

Now this was Leonard and the only way to convey how much he means is not slip of the lips on his cheek. He presses his own lips to the corner of Leonard's mouth, half onto his lips. He holds there, kissing the man and he's sure that he understand that this was platonic, that man was his brother and he just needed him to known and feel that love. That he was a cherished friend.

Clint pulls away, his face almost red because he held way longer than others and now knows what flavor of chapstick that Leonard applied. ❝ You kiss Linda with sunscreen flavored lips? ❞ He says when he pulls away, absolutely judging the man before he dips his head.

❝ I love you, buddy. ❞

#RECOVERY BUDDY -> 616 -> Oh brother I see you burn like me the singes on our skin like a brand #RECOVERY BUDDY -> THEFLEETFINEST -> When you're in the trenches and you're under fire I will cover you #VERSE -> CRISISPIDER -> Hey look who got an all new lease on life still same old loser Hawkeye entangled in Spiderman's web #thefleetsfinest #THREADS -> thefleetsfinest #DRABBLE -> thefleetsfinest #[ VERSE; 616 ] All he ever needed was to trust his own wings

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bobbimorses · 5 years ago

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I saw you mentioning that Clint's personality/portrayal in more recent works has been done poorly. What sort of things do you want to see acknowledged/come back in the modern Hawkeye portrayal?

ok, i’m gonna refrain from embedding panels since this will be so long. skip to the bold for what i’d like acknowledged again because i first try to analyze what recent misinterpretations stem from before getting to your point. whoops!

currently, people seem to overwhelmingly portray clint in only these terms: coffee, catchphrases, and clueless. now that’s not to say that the man doesn’t drink coffee, or that he’s an omniscient super-genius, but that people have taken traits from one portrayal they recognize and run so far with it that it seems like that’s all he is.

i think this is because a lot of people have either misinterpreted the circumstances at play in fraction’s hawkeye, or only know of clint from fanon or decontextualized panels from that run and subsequent appearances

here’s what was happening in fraction’s hawkeye: clint was in a state of depression. fraction’s run took a lot of inspiration from hawkeye’s first solo series (v1), by gruenwald, where clint’s also shown in a rut. in both runs, his depression partially stemmed from his lack of belief/confidence in himself. in v1, it’s a betrayal that makes him doubt he’s worthy of being loved. in fraction’s hawkeye (v4), it’s the amalgamation of all the beatings he’s recently taken in the avengers that makes him doubt he’s worthy of being an avenger.

v4 immediately follows from clint being burned to an absolute crisp (then healed...but not instantly) in a big event, avengers vs. x-men, while facing the phoenix-possessed x-men, aka god-like powered beings. issue 1 of v4 opens with clint being completely wrecked in a fall while avengering. he’d also been killed and thrown around a lot of other major marvel events in a short time prior to all this. basically, he’s been painfully reminded of just how human he is among a bunch of gods and super soldiers. he can handle the pain, but he can’t handle that all the breaks and burns are reminders of his fragility, his humanness; how was he unable to stop them from happening? he starts to question his place in the avengers.

so what you see in fraction’s hawkeye? the moping, the mess of an apartment, the subsistence on pizza, coffee, beer and cereal, long periods of just being on the couch and wanting to nap, the occasional apathy and bewilderment at things happening around him? that’s depression. clint’s not on his A-game, he’s at a low point. unfortunately, a side-effect of v4′s popularity (it’s a well-made comic!) is a lot of people only know this side of clint; they don’t have the image of clint on a good day to “compare” against, and think “this is it.” but that’s not it; i think v4 is meant to show that even the most heroic can slip into apathy when sinking into depression. v4 is about clint finally accepting help from his friends, his neighbors, overcoming his indifference, and believing that not only is he the one that has to stop the villains, but that he can and will. because he’s hawkeye.

now onto what’s lacking in portrayals that misinterpret/represent clint:

jumping off from that doubt in his capabilities, clint has previously been shown to suffer from insecurities. his outwardly overconfident attitude was, in his beginnings, a mask for his low self-esteem and total self-reliance. of course he knew he was the earth’s greatest marksman, but was this enough to take on all these world-ending threats? eventually, after proving himself time and time again, he shed a lot of these insecurities. his confidence was more than earned. his cockiness also threw enemies for a loop: “look at this dude with a bow saying he’s gonna annihilate us. as if he-OH NO.”

now, he’s being portrayed in an inversion of that same strategy: he’s written as getting enemies to underestimate him by acting dumb, bumbling, a klutz. the problem with writing this as clint’s consistent strategy instead of an occasional usage is uninformed readers, or decontextualization, will have people thinking he’s actually like that. that’s why i miss clint being brash and overly-boastful to throw enemies off. he’s already “just a guy with a bow,” why does he need an extra layer of feigned incompetence if everyone already sees him as that guy?

he does have that lingering thought of “am i really good enough to be an avenger?” but he responds to it by trying to be even better, and that drive is what makes him excel, one of the best, worthy of the rank. that drive should always be present. it also makes him kind of competitive (though that’s also just for fun)

snark & attitude: clint’s also always been snarky. i wouldn’t say he’s at the level of spider-man in terms of constant quipping, but when clint and pete have fought together, they’ve given each other a run for their money. clint’s humor also has a sort of lovable jerk quality to it at times, because he’s very light-hearted about it. he’s got a certain levity about him, because you have to when you’re aiming an arrow at a dude made of steel. i’ve seen this quality slowly return to the comics, i think. on that same note, his belligerence with authority, though obviously now more mellowed, can come in little doses like questioning aspects of a plan/order. clint is a confrontation magnet and can be a real loudmouth, even if he’s fiercely loyal to his team.

street smarts! clint has always been clever and had out-of-the-box thinking because he had to scrap by in an orphanage, then a travelling circus (and have you ever played a carnival game?). he’s used his smarts to gather intel, infiltrate (break into) places, trick people, and defeat many a villain. and he’s not above cheating to do it. he literally defeated an elder of the universe, saving the entire defeated roster of the avengers and the universe, by pulling an old carny trick.

trickshots: the first elder of the universe he defeated was with a combination of his cleverness and a trickshot. i want more trickshots again! ricocheting shots, shots where he’s had to determine all the involved angles almost instantaneously in his head, just ridiculously pulled off shots from a distance or at difficult targets all really demonstrate clint’s skill. he didn’t and doesn’t do all that training to not be the best archer. speaking of...

training: clint regularly trains to maintain and hone his skills daily. this isn’t really an issue with current comics writing per se but some people seem to think he just sits around all day (and not just for a vacation). literally his whole shtick is training a skill so much that he’s on par with superhumans. c’mon, guys. relatedly, he’s also skilled in combat because he trained with cap (ronin skills!)

acrobatics: clint spent his adolescence in a circus and was always trying to get in the show, so you know he brushed up on acrobatics. clint and cap even did some gymnastics training in the early days. i want more flips that clint didn’t necessarily have any business doing when he could’ve just leapt around with much less flare, like the typical showman he is (tales of suspense did have this)

accent: this one’s more nitpicky, but i’d maybe like a return of a little bit of a lilt on his dialogue again. i know marvel phased out overly-phoneticized accents, but clint, orphaned carny that he is, always had a casual way of speaking, and i enjoyed how that was reflected in his written dialogue. dropped g’s in gerunds, d’s in and, shortened word combos, etc. it doesn’t have to be over the top, just touches where needed. this is a thing that was kind of present in fraction’s hawkeye, actually.

leadership: though it’s not like marvel denies clint ever led multiple teams (editorial wouldn’t let that happen), lately he’s sometimes written as if he doesn’t have this experience to draw from, and sometimes not. it’s a bit inconsistent. this isn’t to say clint has to be the leader at all times, he works well in a team in any capacity--just don’t shrug off the development and coordinating abilities he gained from his leadership

disaster?: i don’t fault situations where clint's going about the motions and suddenly everything around him is a disaster because when isn’t it with clint’s luck, dude once got cornered by like 10 supervillains in a sewer. and the man can make some bad decisions. but just remember how he’d respond to a disaster: thinking up a plan (or trying to on the fly), using all the resources at his disposal to conquer the problem, maybe insulting 5 people in the process, trying to wink after he gets stabbed

i’m not trying to disparage some people’s interpretations of certain aspects of clint, i’m just advocating against a misunderstanding or persistent misconceptions of clint as a character. he’s a character rich in development because he’s been kicking around continuity for over 50 years now. he went from screaming at cap like a grounded teenager to being offered the shield and rejecting it out of utter respect. he’s complicated in his experiences, his relationships, and many facets of his character, though his motivations can sometimes be simple (help people, show off, prove i can be be that good by being better). to whittle hawkeye down to one note would be a disservice to clint barton’s journey and evolution.

actually, here’s a panel:

#Anonymous #to be clear this is abt comics #this answer was almost as long as my conlaw exam #meta #i've had a compilation of panels mentioning clint training sitting in my drafts #it's so long there's just no text to it #also not to say 'every appearance of clint should be written based on this template from issue -13 from thunderbolts'#bc that's just restrictive #varied writing keeps things fresh #but like...there's layers #WAIT i forgot to talk about his relationships #bring back clint's close friendships #it's like a running joke now when he shows up for a few panels in something #and everyone's like 'ugh hawkeye's here'#stop!!!#at least no road home had him and wanda on a diner friend date

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avengerscompound · 5 years ago

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The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 33

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2513

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man. When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood. While others expect Thor to make things more official. What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Written with @fanficwriter013

Chapter 33: The Battle for Asgard

We came to on the ground. The ropes that bound us were still partially in place like there had been an attempt to remove them but it had been interrupted. Around us were the sounds of battle. Metal hitting metal. Bricks crumbling. Shouting and cries of pain. Our friends and the Asgardian guards were fighting an army of what looked like angels. I couldn’t see the children anywhere but the threads that ran from me to them stretched off behind the throne with one that connected me to Loki. Standing over us was a giant grey wolf. It was snarling and attacking anyone that came near.

Steve reacted first, throwing up his arm like he had his shield to protect us from the wolf, forgetting that he didn’t actually have his shield here with him.

It didn’t matter. A large shield of light, much like Sam’s wings, spread out over all over us. Wanda’s powers glowed pink and the ropes and thread that bound us together disintegrated.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky said, pulling himself to his feet. “That’s Fenrir, he’s protecting us.”

Steve didn’t lower the shield, but he looked uncertainly at Bucky as he tried to push through the shield.

“Steve, seriously. He’s fine. I can… it’s like I can understand him,” Bucky said.

Steve looked around the group and nodded. “Elise, suit up. Try and get to the kids. The rest of you, get to a weapon if you need one. Bruce, we might need Hulk in charge for this. We need to shut this down.”

Bruce nodded and his body shifted. Becoming larger and his face shape changing more as the Hulk took complete control.

I tapped the earrings and nanobots bled out of it forming my very own iron armor. Overlaying the visor was a kind of head-up display that was analyzing everything that was happening around me. “Hello, Elise. I’m charged with getting you to safety. You wanted to call me Synergy?”

“Yes, but… no… I have to help,” I said. “I can’t just run.”

“That’s not what I was designed for,” Synergy replied.

“Cut the shit,” I snapped. “I know Tony hasn’t just made me a run-away machine. We’re fighting.”

“Yes, miss,” she said and the display changed slightly. “Entering combat mode. I am able to read micro-expressions. Just move naturally. I’ll keep up.”

Steve dropped the shield and everyone scattered. Hulk charged into the fray, grabbing angels out of the air and throwing them. Sam spread his wings and took off, kicking an angel in the face and stealing their sword. Natasha disappeared but I could see the end of her thread running toward the throne where the babies were. Clint ran out, and as he broke into the crowd, Fandrall called out to him and tossed him a bow, Clint changed his direction, heading toward Fandral, I assume to get the arrows to go with it. Tony took off into the air and started blasting. Bucky touched Fenrir’s side, and the wolf crouched and let him climb onto its back. Steve ran grabbing the first thing he could find and throwing it at an attacker while Wanda took off into the air. She stopped and looked up and the ceiling disappeared. In the space above it, a large fleet of ships hovered. Carol was currently locked in battle with them and Wanda took off towards her. Thor called for Mjolnir and took off into the fray, casting lightning around him.

I leaned up and the suit took flight, I fell into synch with Tony and we began fighting back to back.

“The babies are okay?” He asked as we did a combo move, spinning in the air as we blasted the angels around us.

“Yes. Loki and Natasha are with them. She’s cloaking them,” I said.

The angels seemed to keep getting distracted by Sam - who had now worked out he could literally throw shards of light out of his wings like a weapon. They would stop fighting and watch him while talking to each other in their native tongue.

“They think he’s one of them. Like an important one,” Clint yelled up as he loosed an arrow, piercing an angel’s wing.

“Yeah, baby!” Sam called back. “I am an angel!”

We began to get an upper hand. There were so many, but there were more of us and we had a large contingency with powers. Mjolnir flew from one hand to the next. Thor used her to slam into the ground taking out a swarm of angels that were trying to overwhelm him. She flew to Natasha who used her to stealth strike some angels that were getting too close to the twins. Then to Steve who dragged a bolt of lightning through the roof and took out a large group. To me as I swung her, slamming her into someone’s face as I used an energy blast to take out another person. She followed the path of the threads that connected us like she could feel them too and knew where she was needed.

Just as it looked like we were about to subdue the last of the angels there was a loud crash at the far end of the hall and a burst of black energy. The red-headed woman strode into the room followed by what looked like a whole new army. She was flanked by a man and a woman who were dressed differently to the others. More regal. I assumed they were the king and queen of Heven.

“Enough of this!” She shouted and then spoke in what sounded like two completely different dialects. “Surrender the throne! I am the rightful heir.”

Thor flew up in front of the group and stood, squared up, not giving an inch. “What rightful heir? Why are you doing this? We have no quarrel with your people.”

“But we have a quarrel with yours. When your father conquered us. We took your heir and now we will take the nine realms,” the man said and attacked Thor. The army charged in and the woman who had attacked Riley and I led them.

“What did she say, Barton?” Tony asked as he swooped around towards Clint who had been bailed up against the wall. Tony and I took out his attackers and hovered near him while he caught his breath.

“Just that she was the firstborn child of Odin and it was her right to rule,” Clint said.

“Wasn’t the firstborn a son?” I asked.

Loki appeared beside me, giving me what felt like ten simultaneous heart attacks. “She has transitioned, fool. I would have thought that concept wouldn’t be hard to understand.”

“Jesus, Loki,” I said. “How did you sneak up on me when I’m fucking connected to you now?”

“You’re what?” She asked.

“Connected. That’s my power. I see a thread between me and my family members. I can feel them with it,” I say. “I know where they are.”

Loki looked at me with her head tilted, like she was trying to process a great deal of information. “There is a thread between you and I?”

“Yes. Here,” I said, running my hand along it.

“Is there one between you and her?” She asked.

I narrowed my eyes and watched the redhead locked in battle with T’Challa and several members of the Dora Milaje. There was a small thread of light that ran from me to her. It was faint and muddy and when I put my hand on it the feeling I got was confused and … wrong. Like they were being muted by something else.

“Yes, there’s something. It doesn’t feel right though. Plus it’s faint,” I said.

“I wonder… there should be no need if they raised her, but a connection means she is family. It’s not about blood because you have a connection with me. They might have messed with her mind,” Loki suggested.

“You two work this out. We’re gonna get back into it,” Tony said, grabbing Clint under the arms and taking off.

I put my hand on the thread that ran straight up into the air to Wanda and sent my thoughts out. “Wanda! We need you here.”

We continued fighting as Wanda floated back down through the ceiling and she turned and looked at the woman as he fought. “Yes,” she said. “Definitely mind control. I need to get closer to do something about it.”

The three of us moved in and Wanda’s eyes began to glow. Loki stepped up and began to fight the redhead pulling two long blades from the air and welding them with deadly proficiency.”

“Sister, we need not fight. Surrender to me and you may have the throne of Jotunheim as you were destined,” the woman practically purred.

“If I wanted the throne of a lonely ice planet I would take it. Just as I took the one here. I understand your cause, it’s a pity that you do not, sister,” Loki countered.

The thread got brighter and I called Mjolnir. It changed direction mid-flight and flew into my hand. I ran a current of electricity through the thread and it pierced the woman’s body. Her eyes flared pink and blue as the electricity blending with Wanda’s powers and she screamed and dropped to the floor.

The fighting paused for a moment as everyone turned to see what was happening. Wanda moved in closer putting her hands on the woman. “Angela!” The queen of Heven screamed running towards us followed by the king and several Heven warriors. Thor called Mjolnir and she pulled free of my hand, flying into Thor’s. He summoned a lightning bolt and slammed her into the ground. It threw the entire army back, giving Wanda more time to work.

The pink light faded, and Wanda helped the Red Head to her feet. The thread between us was brighter now. Just as bright as between Loki and me. She blinked slowly looking dazed and held up her hands and called out something in the language of Heven.

The angels all stopped fighting and dropped their weapons. “People!” She called again. “I apologize. The fight is over.” She turned to Thor. “Brother. I apologize most to you. If you must arrest me I shall go willingly. I was not in my right mind.”

Thor approached her. “Sif!” He called. “Take the king and queen to the dungeons.”

Sif gestured to some guards and they muscled the two rulers of Heven out of the throne room.

“Aldrif?” Thor asked, extending his hand.

She winced and shook her head. “That is my dead name. It is Angela.”

“I apologize. Angela,” he said, taking her hand. As their skin touched his whole body stiffened and his eyes glowed a bright blue. Everyone went straight to attack mode and stepped forward, but I held up my hand. This was not her attacking him.

“Wait!” I called. “He is having a vision.”

When Thor came to again he shook his head and smiled a real genuine smile. “I saw you, sister. Sitting on the throne. Ruling Asgard and the Nine Realms fairly and wisely.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t. You are the king. It is your place to rule.”

He clapped his hand on her arm and shook her head. “Don’t you see… I don’t want it. I have never wanted it. I do it because there is no other choice. If there were anyone else capable of the job I would let them have it. I want to be with my family. I want to raise my children.”

Loki rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. Angela looked around at the hall and up at the throne. “I shall never bear any offspring. You and your daughter will remain direct heirs to the throne.”

Thor nodded and dropped to his knees before her. “I am aware. I defer to you, sister. You are the rightful heir.”

“Get up,” she said. “You are not lesser than me, brother. We are equals. But if it is what you wish, and what your vision saw, I shall take the throne.”

“Good!” He cheered getting back to his feet and pulling her into an embrace. “We have much to organize. Many things to set right.”

“Yes, and I promise we shall,” Angela replied. “But my people did you the disservice of attacking you during your bonding. You should finish and make it official.”

Thor turned to Wanda. “Can you fix this, my love?”

She looked around and nodded, her whole body became absorbed by the pink light of her powers and spread out. Damage was undone, wounds healed. When she settled back to the ground the only sign that we’d even been in battle was the foreign army in the throne room.

The armor on Tony and I retracted leaving us back in the clothes for the ceremony and we all moved up to the throne. Bruce returned to that midway state where he was both Hulk and Bruce at the same time. Natasha brought the children to us and as the room settled and people returned to their correct places, we passed the children between us, cuddling and kissing each of them.

When the room settled again the high priest moved forward again, still visibly shaken.

“Friends and loved ones, people of Asgard and the Nine Realms,” he announced. “Our lovers have taken their journey and all have returned, stronger and knowing their place with each other. They now bear the mark of their clan and that mark shall be branded to each, a visible symbol of the bond they share.” He touched each of us in turn. When he touched me a burning sensation seared the skin on my forearm. I looked down at it and saw a symbol, it looked like part of a star over two connected circles. One of the sides of the star was missing and instead, one line formed an arrow. There was an M attached to one side. Each line was traced in a different color, so you could see the element for each person. Wanda’s M formed part of Sam’s symbol. Clint’s arrow came off of Bucky’s star that sat on Steve’s shield. One circle was half Tony’s arc and half the symbol for radiation symbolizing Bruce. There was part of Mjolnir making up the star, as was Natasha’s widow mark. Right in the center of the star was a v shape turning it into a heart.

“As above, so below,” he said, returning to his place on the platform. “These ten people are bonded. They will have this bond for the rest of their lives, sharing their highs and lows, protecting and caring for each other. None shall come between it and it will not grow weak with time. I present them to you now bound together as family. They may now seal it with a kiss.”

We smirked at each other and each person turned to the one closest. For me that was Sam. He pulled me into his arms and we kissed.

// NEXT

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spidergwenstefani · 6 years ago

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Aspie!Clint! omg! I can totally see it! Tell me more! ....I got excited. Sorry. ;)

Omg hi! thank you! for indulging me!

Aspie!Clint is a headcanon I hold near and dear to my heart bc it just fits... so well. How many times does Clint get to be the badass hero in the MCU and the comics because he came at a problem differently than everyone else? How many times has conventional communication and social conflict been his downfall?? How much?? Does he fucking??? Love his arrows????

So first of all, yeah, archery is definitely his number one special interest. I’m also v attached to bby Clint being really into frogs just because of the Lemire/Perez run where he drags barney out to the pond like every day to catch them. Also, speaking of bby Clint? his Aspergers is definitely a huge part of him and Barney’s relationship as kids. I feel like a few potential adoptive parents would take him avoiding eye contact and not wanting to talk about anything but frogs as a sign that he’s got too much trauma and baggage to be a Good Fit™ for their family. And Barney’s torn between resentment toward Clint for making things harder and his urge to just be like fuck you only I get to judge my little brother for being a weirdo.

Growing up, Clint never gets the formal social skills/executive functioning therapy, but he learns a lot more about body language from asl and a lot more about expressing himself the way people want him to from his circus performing. That doesn’t make it any easier to really communicate with people, though. The combo of being over-empathetic and bad at expressing feelings can be a real bitch, not to mention the bonus depression and anxiety. Maybe if he used his SHIELD mandated therapy as actual therapy rather than a game of How Many Times Can I Change the Subject in an Hour and a Half, he would have been diagnosed by now. Instead, I think he assumes he’s got some combo of ADHD and just being dumb at relationships.

But other than how it fits so well into his backstory/character, so much of Clint’s most iconic traits are totally Aspergers in action. Everything has to be purple, all the time. Not even just purple, but a specific cool-toned shade. I seriously doubt he wears all his Hawkeye merch out of sheer ego. More like Natasha bought him one as a joke and the fabric was just the exact right texture and he hasn’t bought any other brand since. Clint’s not just a fan of pizza, he’s a fan of the cheese/crust texture of one specific restaurant three blocks away from his apartment.

There’s. So much more I could say, but I have a meeting in like 5 minutes. I’m posting this publicly bc I want to hear any and all Aspie!Clint headcanons y’all might have

#em talks #like TALKS #headcanons #clint barton #clintobarto

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imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years ago

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Dream a Little Dream of Me - Ch3/4

The days after the ‘incident’ are a blur for me. Loki, Thor’s extravagant brother, decided it’s prime time for some seasonal mischief on Earth and throws an evil overlords’ party in New York for the Avengers to deal with.

Thor said Loki was adopted but damn…someone needs to find the guy some hobby. Only a demi-god bored out of his mind would bring all sorts of funky alien creatures to the middle of Manhattan for an afternoon playdate.

All. Week. Long.

Contrary to Steve’s wishes, I joined the fight the second day, after a gigantic alien bug smashed through the common floor’s windows and disrupted my relaxing round of Smash bros. Thought it was appropriate to join the Hulk and do some smashin’ of my own.

By the end of the week, I didn’t even mind Steve’s disapproving pout when he called the assemble and I just automatically went to suit up as well.

And today is no different.

“You know, I’m starting to suspect your little brother might actually hate you,” Clint says with all the subtle sarcasm he could come up with, glaring at Thor.

“He indeed appears to be in a foul mood! But we shall prevail against these…sluggy…glistening armored fish abominations just like we have prevailed in the past!” Thor booms and doesn’t fail to grab both of Clint’s shoulders in a deathly grip of brotherhood.

“Let’s try apprehending Loki this time, before he slips back into Asgard. Again,” Steve sighs from the front seat of the quinjet.

Me and Clint drop down first to take the high-ground while the quinjet touches down on the coast and the Avengers pour out to deal with the…sluggy armored fish abominations hands on.

“Alrighty, here we go. Wanna bet who gets more of those little slimy critters?”

“I refuse to be the Gimli to your Legolas,” I roll my eyes and assemble the Stark-designed sniper rifle with precision and speed that’s partly my own, partly the Soldier’s.

“A-ha! So Cap did give you his bucket list of movies you gotta catch up with! Or more like…Bucky-list, amirite?” he snickers, already sending arrows left and right.

Sometimes I wonder if this guy is seriously an adult.

(Read-more ahead!)

“Shut up and shoot. You’ll need the extra shots if you wanna beat me.”

“And here I thought you don’t wanna be the gruff dwarf to my lean, Elfish awesomeness! I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you.”

“Bullets are faster than arrows,” I point out and take aim at the first fishy beast. When I pull the trigger, the bullet goes straight through its toothy jaw, body going limp and onto the ground.

“We’ll see about that!” he takes the challenge and intensifies his shooting.

It only takes a minute for us to realize we might have a problem. Unless we hit the funky creatures in their weak, unarmored spots of skin, the arrows – and the bullets – ricochet off their armor.

Asgardians and their damn magic.

“Well, so much for this,” I discard the rifle and wire down the building to join the fray up close. Let’s see how resistant the critters are to a metal fist.

“Aw, maaaan,” I hear Clint sputter through the radio and spot him descending down here as well. He might be the master of long-range fights, but he sure doesn’t shy away from some close combat – if necessary.

And this time it is necessary.

Steve and Thor successfully smash the magic-enhanced creatures with their superior shield and hammer combo and Natasha has already switched from deadly bullets to deadly daggers. Sam is flying all around the place, usually just setting up the kills for the others and making sure the perimeter is clear and that’s it. Since Steve ordered both Bruce and Tony to take a day off, we kinda lack the raw smashing power and the devastating Iron Man repulsors.

Or…not?

I watch not three, but five of the armored beasts explode in what is unmistakably repulsor fire and glance up just in time to spot the flash of gold and crimson. Something about a fully weaponized flying suit of armor is just so damn cool…so who can blame me for observing it throughout the past few battles. Very closely. Purely out of curiosity and…tactical reasons. Yeah, all about tactics.

Speaking of which, there’s a disapproving Captain America about to have a fit in the comms in three, two, one…

“Iron Man! I told you to stay in the Tower for this one!”

Here we go.

“Oh. Did you? I could swear you said play in the shower…which I did and now I’ve come to play here. So rude not to invite me to a party like this, Capsicle!”

“As much as I would argue about the party bit – again – we could actually use an extra hand here, couldn’t we?” Natasha saves us from Steve’s imminent lecture for now and everyone resumes their fighting efforts.

Loki is nowhere to be found this time, which is bad news. He’s either getting bored of this himself, or he’s on the lookout for more weird aliens to send our way tomorrow.

Twenty minutes later, the coast is clear. Kinda. It’s full of dead, slimy fishy bodies that are already starting to smell worse than before.

“Alright, let’s check the perimeter, make sure we’ve got them all. Someone is going to have to deal with all these,” Steve commands and looks around the graveyard of a battlefield.

“I’ve called it in. Fury should be here with the clean-up crew any minute. He likes sushi so this should be right up his alley,” Tony chuckles and lifts off. “See ya back in the shower. I mean Tower.”

I don’t even have to turn around to know that deep sigh of utter desperation comes from our mighty leader. He orders us back to the quinjet and within minutes we are back in the Avengers Tower, safe and sound.

Safe from the aliens at least. The fury on Steve’s face as he spots the disobedient engineer at the bar with Bruce could only be rivaled by the fury on Fury’s face when he sees the mess we’ve left in there for him to clean up.

“What were you thinking?!”

“Hm? Oh, I was thinking we could skip shawarma and go for double Shirley Temple’s all around. Or a Roy Rogers for you if you fancy something alcoholic, it’s past five so we can do that without Bruce calling the AA. Here, have one,” Tony hands the drink with an over-the-top umbrella to the rapidly advancing Captain, not expecting what happens next.

To be fair, nobody really expects Steve to slap that cocktail out of Tony’s hand with enough force to cause an audible smack and all but lift him off the bar stool, hand twisted into his shirt’s collar.

“I gave you a direct order! You don’t listen to me and my lectures and that’s fine, but this was a mission, Tony! You’ve been barely keeping yourself on your feet this entire week! You’re either gonna get yourself killed on the field or worse, someone else! I don’t want to see you anywhere near a battle until you’ve rested, eaten and gotten your act together!”

“Yeah? Then how about you back the fuck off, Rogers!” he spits into Steve’s face, all traces of amusement – fake, but still amusement – gone from his features.

I remember that look all too well from one week ago, when I’ve taken one too many steps towards the already panicked man. Back then I’ve written it off as circumstantial. But apparently he’s actually got enough reasons to flinch away from imposing supersoldiers.

And I’ve seen just about enough evidence.

“I will, when you - ” Steve starts, but to his own shock doesn’t get to continue.

I have found that a metal fist pushing against one’s neck usually has that effect on people. I have also found that trying to execute said move against a friendly in the presence of one Natasha Romanov usually ended up with me dodging a rain of daggers and snapping out of whatever rage-filled Soldier episode I’d be under at the time.

But this rage is all me and judging by the lack of daggers, Natasha must be thinking the same.

Steve stumbles back, the hand he’s been holding Tony with a second ago flies to my metal one still pushing him backwards, until I decide we’re far enough.

“Bucks, let me go, I’m just - ”

“I don’t care.”

“Buck - ”

“I. Don’t. Care,” I repeat with all the intimidation I can without really snapping into the Winter Soldier right here and there.

He stares at me, the anger dissipating in an instant. For the first time since I can remember, he’s not looking at me with concern, pity or disappointment. Just surprise, confusion…and little tiny bit of fear.

It should probably alarm me, but there’s no excuse for Steve’s behavior. Giving him a little taste of his own medicine might just work.

“Go cool off. Now,” I command, releasing him from my firm, but harmless grip.

Steve hangs on the spot for a moment, his widened eyes searching my face for…I’m not sure what. He probably doesn’t find it in the end and backs away and out of the room without a word.

I don’t know what I’d do if he didn’t. Or I don’t want to really think about it.

“Wow. Did you just send the Captain to his room to think about what he’s done like the naughty little kid he is?” Clint whistles and walks up to me, hand already up, expecting a high-five. He abruptly stops few feet away though, glancing at something behind me. “Right…well, I need a shower.”

“Splendid idea! Let’s go converse about today’s battle underneath the falling sprinkle!” Thor decides and goes ahead first.

“For real,” Sam nods when he sniffs at Clint, nose scrunched up.

“You’re not exactly smelling of roses yourself,” Clint retaliates and both bird men head for the elevator, fiercely glaring at each other the whole way.

I risk turning around, fearing whatever it was that stopped even Clint in his tracks, but there’s nothing to see, really. Tony has sat back on the stool, looking down at his fidgeting fingers with that scary, closed off expression.

Bruce’s expression is anything but closed off – his rage is carefully hidden behind his eyes and to anyone else, he looks just as calm as ever. Until you realize that angered spark is next to last thing one would see before he turns all green.

He gives me a tiny smile and a nod, his left hand resting on Tony’s forearm in a simple, comforting gesture.

I return the nod and dodging Natasha’s own searching squint, I leave the room as well. I’ll make sure Steve gets his shit together and Bruce will make sure Tony’s okay. Sounds fair enough.

Just gotta ignore that painful sting that stabbed at my chest as soon as I’ve seen the two sciencebros together. Haven’t felt that one in…decades.

And it freaks me the hell out.

“Sergeant Barnes? Sergeant?”

I stir from my usual limbo to the gentle sound of JARVIS’s purposefully lowered, but urgent voice. “Wh’t?” I slur, running a hand over my eyes, clearing my vision a little bit.

Did I fall asleep? I was reading this weird book about sparkling vampires and…oh wait. Yeah. That might be the reason why I fell asleep. Natasha did mention I shouldn’t read it past midnight unless I really wanted to sleep.

“If I could possibly bother you with a…request,” JARVIS continues in the same, uncertain but adamant tone that he only ever uses when something serious is going on that he can’t do anything about. A mission…or Tony.

“S’mthin’ wrong?” I discard the large book and stretch in the chair.

“Possibly…do not be alarmed, please. It is nothing life threatening I assure you, but…your assistance would be much appreciated. By me, that is.”

So it is Tony. JARVIS always speaks in twisting riddles when his creator is concerned. Sometimes I don’t understand this dynamic they’ve got going. I suppose something in his code is preventing him from being straightforward about these matters – so he’s forced to improvise.

“What is it, JARVIS?”

“Sir has – how do I put it. He deemed it necessary to use last resort means in order to sleep tonight.”

Well, that didn’t sound ominous at all. “Last resort? Where is he? What kinda la - ”

“He is drinking by the penthouse piano, Sergeant. Not excessively, yet, but he had only just begun.”

“Oh. I’m not sure how I can help you with that.”

“I would usually request Colonel Rhodes’s presence in such cases, but he is too far to make it here soon enough. I…would prefer if Sir was not alone.”

And that right there is why everybody likes JARVIS. Because JARVIS likes everyone. He’s proven on many occasions before he’d go through great lengths to make everybody’s life here the best experience possible. Even my own.

But let’s just say this pursuit of his intensifies a thousand fold when it comes to Tony. And I can’t argue with that at all.

“What’cha want me to do?”

“Just keep him company.”

“I can do that,” I nod and get up, walking straight to the opening elevator. It’s a simple enough request, but... “Wouldn’t Bruce be a better choice though?”

“I believe given the current circumstances, Sir would appreciate you more than Dr. Banner,” JARVIS replies without hesitation, the raw honesty in his statement making me pause in my tracks for a second.

“Why?” I ask in a mere whisper, hand resting against the wall of the now moving elevator. Next to Colonel Rhodes, Bruce is Tony’s best friend when it comes to the Avengers. And me...I’m pretty much just a stranger.

“Because you understand,” he answers as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I let that sink in, while the elevator stops and opens on the floor I can’t say I’ve ever been on before. I often go to the roof, which is right above the penthouse, but the penthouse itself has always been taboo for me. Actually most of the Avengers.

It’s Tony’s sanctuary, much like the workshop. That makes it two places in the Tower I haven’t been in.

Or just one, now that I take a cautious step inside the spacious room. The lights are dimmed, but it isn’t hard to spot the engineer. He’s right where JARVIS said he would be – by the black concert piano next to the bar. One hand holding onto a bottle of brandy, the other ghosting over the black and white keys in some random melody.

It feels like I’m invading his privacy…technically, I am. Hopefully JARVIS was right or I might have to dodge a furiously hauled bottle of liquor.

Before I can decide how to best announce myself without startling him, his hand stills over the keyboard and the other extends toward me. It’s shaky and makes the golden liquid slosh in the bottle in wild audible waves.

“On second thoughts,” he looks at me with somewhat unfocused eyes, “why waste this expensive beauty on someone that can’t even get drunk.” The hand moves back to rest the bottle on Tony’s thigh and he squints at me. “Can you get drunk?”

Now that I think about it, I guess I can’t. If Steve can’t, then chances are it’s the same for me. I don’t remember HYDRA ever experimenting with this particular fact and the Soldier definitely didn’t go on any post-mission beers either.

“S’pose not,” I shrug, observing the surprisingly very sober man. He appears a bit hazy, but that could just be the exhaustion from however many hours he hasn’t slept for this time. “And I’m more of a beer guy anyway.”

He perks up at that, the squint disappearing. “Really? Where did you get your hands on a beer during the Great Depression?”

I chuckle and deeming it safe enough I walk slowly to the piano. “New York wasn’t all that big on prohibition you know? And by the time I could drink, prohibition was all but over anyway.”

Tony looks up in thought and nods. “Ah yeah…forgot,” he adds in a whisper and focuses back on the keys, not playing anything, just touching them curiously.

“There was this warehouse…I don’t really remember what it was called. I used to go there with a couple other fellas on the weekends to earn some money. Heavy liftin’ and stuff. Wasn’t much, but the manager always invited us for a pint after the shift. He was Irish I think...taught us all sorts of drinkin’ songs. And games.”

I smile at the memory. It’s so rare for me to recall something with enough detail to make a story out of it, but somehow all the drunken Saturdays just got back to me now.

I glance at Tony and catch him staring at me with a smile of his own.

“Drinking games? Now that’s more like it, Sergeant. And you said you wouldn’t know what to do when you can’t sleep,” he grins and puts the bottle up on the shiny surface of the piano, nudging it closer to me.

“S’not gonna work,” I poke the bottle and sigh. Can’t say I haven’t thought about it. But a drunken haze is a little too close to the dreamless abyss so yeah, I’d rather avoid that.

“Sucks.”

“How’s it workin’ for you?”

“Like magic! Can’t remember shit in the morning.”

“You don’t look very happy about it though,” I point out, leaning gently against the luxurious wooden instrument.

The grin slips away as his eyes travel down to the keys. “Isn’t exactly the best way to…how did your bestie put it? Rest and get my shit together? That. Contrary to everyone’s belief, I really would prefer the usual way.”

“Yeah…sorry about him, by the way. That was way out of line. What he did.”

“Thought he was supposed to fight the bullies, not be one of them,” he scoffs, playing a deep, dramatic accord.

Just as I imagined, he’s not really angry with Steve about what happened. He’s just quietly resigned about it.

And that’s just wrong.

I can be mad at my best friend for the both of us – and I am – but Tony should at least make it clear that leader or not, worried or not, Steve’s behavior was unacceptable. And if he wouldn’t listen, then he should explain what’s really going on underneath all the pretense of irresponsibility and recklessness.

Then again, same could be said for me. Even JARVIS suggested it. Just tell them the truth. Some things really are easier said than done.

I understand though. And only now I realize that I might be one of few that really do. We have the same kinda problem, with the added irony of wishing we could swap places.

To dream and not to dream.

I don’t really wanna deal with the others…explaining this to them, not even Steve. Especially not him. But Tony understands just as much as I do and I can’t say that I mind. Not at all. It’s…nice to know there’s someone in here that I don’t have to hide under a mask from. Someone that goes out of his way to make things easier for me – and I will sure as hell do the same.

“You’re right. I told him as much so…he tries somethin’ like this again, I’ll deck him in the face hard enough he flies all the way back to Brooklyn.”

He looks at me, eyes wide and mouth forming an astonished ‘o’. “Sergeant Barnes! That’s your best friend you’re talking about!” he maintains the scolding expression for a second before breaking into a laugh. “I’d pay to see that actually,” he adds in a whisper.

“You won’t have to, if he ever decides to be an asshole again.”

He yawns, eyeing the bottle still discarded on the piano.

“You play?” I opt to change the subject – and divert his attention away from the brandy again.

He shakes his head, glaring at the keyboard. “I guess. Mom used to…she was good at it, too. She thought me how to play, but hey. Playing the piano isn’t really the trademark Stark forte. Didn’t get to practice much…so now I’m just abusing this poor thing with my lack of skill whenever I feel like waking up the neighbors with broken as fuck Chopin.”

“Can’t be the judge of that. Never heard your broken as fuck Chopin,” I shrug and consider it a win when Tony laughs in response and waves at the nearby chair, the bottle all but forgotten.

“Grab a front row seat then, Sarge!” he offers.

I walk over to the chair and take it, but before moving it closer to the piano and sitting down, something needs to be done with this. “You can just call me Bucky, you know?”

“I will if you will,” he turns around a little to look at me, hands folded.

“You want me to call you Bucky?”

“Don’t be cute,” he conjures up an angry pout. “Besides…Bucky’s like a name for a dog. What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I was thinking five of my schoolmates were James’ so…Buchanan…Barnes...they thought Bucky was clever.”

“For a dog,” he repeats but has troubles keeping a smile from cracking his façade.

“Call me James then!” I flail and roll my eyes, trying not to indulge him too much.

“I already have a James friend,” he points out and looks thoughtful.

“You never call him James though.”

“Because it’s lame,” he mumbles and something sparkles in his hazy eyes, clearing them instantly. “For him I mean…James…sounds so old-fashioned. Might just be perfect for you,” he smirks and shuffles with the chair to a side a bit to make space for me.

“Dunno if I should be offended or not.”

“Definitely not. You will however be offended by this,” he points at the keyboard and starts playing something classical.

I suppose it’s the Chopin, but I’d never be able to tell anyway. It’s quick and melodic and…nice. So I just put the chair next to him, watching, listening.

By morning we’d moved to the couch to continue the random banter and eventually fall asleep.

And the dreamless slumber came again, only this time it didn’t feel all wrong, for whatever reason.

#prompts #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #lantia #steve is acting up #lil' protective bucky #piano!Tony

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agressivelyunfancynerd · 7 years ago

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Happy Birthday to You (Bucky Fic)

Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Almost smut.

Blurb: When Stark embarrasses you by springing a surprise birthday party on you, you have a few too many drinks and confront Bucky about his hate for you; only it’s not what you think.

Word Count: 2,600+

You’d been at the Avengers tower for about six months now, and in that time you had become pretty good friends with all of them.

You loved talking to Steve about the past and history, what really happened as opposed to what was written in the books.

You and Tony loved to try your hand at building things, although you were usually more there watching than actually helping. He did let you try on his helmet once, which was awesome.

You always went to Bruce when you had a science-y question, or just wanted to chat, he was probably your favourite person. In fact, you did sort of have a crush on him, if only he was a little younger or you were a little older – or you know, if he didn’t have eyes for Nat, who could kill you with her pinkie finger.

You and Nat became really good sparring partners; you loved how she pushed you to be better, without screaming at you and making you hate physical exercise.

Clint was teaching you how to shoot arrows and throw knives. And skulk around the tower and scare people, like he does.

Sam and Peter were basically like the two annoying brothers you never had. Constantly pushing your buttons. You loved the goofballs though.

Wanda was your roommate for a time, when you first arrived, she said she knew what it was like to be the newbie and to feel alone, and she wasn’t going to let that happen to you; and since then you’d become good friends. You often stayed up into the wee hours of the morning in either her room or yours, wrapped up in blankets, talking or watching TV.

Thor was so much fun; you loved spending time with him. Especially when he talked about the realms and the stars and Asgard. One time you got him to talk to you about his favourite place in the entire universe and you drew it in your sketch pad, when you were done he was so happy about how perfect you captured it, he bear hugged you until you almost passed out. He reminded you of a giant Labrador, so full of love and happiness. Despite being the God of Thunder.

You hadn’t really had much to do with Vision or Rhodey though, but they seemed like nice guys.

And then there was Bucky. He wouldn’t give you the time of day. Never said hello, or smiled – did he even know how to smile – when you had to spar with him, he didn’t hold back. Often you left the sessions hurting, bruised. If you came into a room and no one else was there, he got up and left, if someone else was there he pulled them into a deep conversation until you left. If you said you were going to one of Stark’s parties, he either didn’t show up, or showed up for ten minutes and then left with some hot piece of ass.

You only wished you knew what you did or said to make him hate you. You weren’t a bad person, you were friendly, you talked about anything, you made a mean coffee cheesecake, and you were up for any kind of adventure – sitting watching Netflix, hiking, going to the beach. You just couldn’t fathom why someone hated you so much, with every fiber of their being, like Bucky did.

***

You were having the most wonderful dream, when your phone blared its annoying text tone, to alert you that you had a message. You rolled over in your bed, blinking and trying to wake up. You grabbed your phone, and with one eye open, you clicked it on and read a message from Tony.

=== YOU’RE INVITED ===

Party with the Avengers!!!

@ The Avengers Tower

SIX O’CLOCK TONIGHT!

No RSVP Necessary

- Tony Stark

You grumbled. Normally you didn’t mind Stark’s parties, but after your latest encounter with Bucky you were in no mood to party. Yesterday you’d been sparring with Nat when she was called away, and Bucky was asked to step in, he basically knocked you off balance, yelled at you for being so easily knocked off balance and then stormed out of the training room.

Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and you ended up going back to your room and crying in the bottom of your shower like a little child. Bucky just pushed your buttons.

Did you really have to go to the party? Would Stark even notice? You kept trying to think up ways to get out of it, but nothing came to you.

You got out of bed and went for a shower, it was already one o’clock, you’d slept in; which was great, but also bad, because now you had even less time to mentally and emotionally prepare for the party.

After your shower you decided to head to Wanda’s room and grab her, stopping on the way to grab Nat, if you were going to the party you were going to look and feel hot, but you were going to need all the help you could get.

You knocked on Nat’s door.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” Nat said.

“I need your help, can you go to my room and wait for me, and I’ll be back in a second.” You said, turning away. Nat agreed and was already heading to your room.

You got to Wanda’s door and before you could knock she was already opening it.

“I knew you’d come, as soon as I got Stark’s text, what’s up?” She asked, smiling.

“I need you and Nat to make me pretty for the party, and help me pick a rocking outfit.” You said.

“You’re already pretty Y/N” Wanda sighed, “but we’ll see how we can highlight that” she winked.

You and Wanda were just turning into your bedroom when you noticed Nat had already laid some clothes on the bed, some yours, and some hers. You would swear, she was a mind reader. Wanda went to your wardrobe and grabbed a few other bits and pieces and put them down too, before running back to hers and Nat’s room and grabbing the makeup bags.

After hours of primping and polishing you were done. Nat and Wanda had butted heads on a few things, and you flatly refused a few as well, but between the three of you, you came out with a rocking, biker chic outfit, killer boots and makeup that would have models jealous.

“Oh my god, I love it! Thank you so much you guys!” You smiled at them in the mirror.

“Hey, the foundation was already there, we just added to it” Nat said, smiling and then leaving the room.

“Every guy in that party tonight is going to want your number girl! And maybe half the ladies too, you look hot!” Wanda winked, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before she too left to get ready.

You were actually in awe of your outfit. It was the perfect combo of street style and girly chic. You had a slinky black dress with long see through lace sleeves, and a daring V-neck cut, courtesy of Wanda, which you paired with thigh high black leather boots, courtesy of Nat; a leather jacket with lace in the back and sleeves, which you were proud to say was your own pick. Then you just polished the outfit with a nice choker necklace, and some rings.

Your makeup was fierce, cat eyed eyeliner, dark smoky eyes, and bright cherry red lips, again courtesy of Wanda. That girl loved her red. You did one last check in the mirror before heading out of your room.

***

Guests had started arriving at four, it was crazy. By six when the party actually started it was booming, loud music, hot bodies dancing, and alcohol in every hand. You shouldered your way through until you were at the bar.

“Hey Steve” you half yelled when you saw him sitting alone.

“Hey Y/N– wow! You look, you, ah. You look really beautiful” he smiled. You and Steve chatted for a while, until Sam and Thor came over, something about a darts challenge, you weren’t really sure.

Just as you signalled the bartender for another drink you noticed Bucky enter. Along with every other woman in the place. He wore a tight black button down, black skinny-ish jeans and his signature combat boots. He’d brushed his hair and put it in a little bun.

Your breath caught for like two seconds before you realised he was staring at you. You quickly turned and downed your drink.

When you thought it was safe to glance back over your shoulder, you did, only to see Bucky still staring. Just as you were about to make a run for the door, Stark came in and told everyone to shut the hell up. The room went dead.

“Now, unlike most of my other parties … Okay, unlike all of my other parties, this one actually has a reason behind it!” he yelled, everyone looked puzzled and started whispering back and forth. You took another chance to scan the room, eyes automatically falling on Bucky, who was still staring.

“This party is sort of a welcome, for our newest Avengers,” he glanced at you, then at Peter, and T’Challa who’d only recently agreed to be a fully fledged Avenger, “it’s also someone’s birthday, and I do love birthdays” he continued.

Before your brain could respond, Stark was pointing at you, and a spotlight came on, lighting you up like a Christmas tree.

“Let’s all give up for Y/N on her birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Tony yelled, before the crowd started singing happy birthday. Your cheeks were burning. You looked up at Stark, and glared. He only winked at you.

You looked back into the crowd of people, Bucky was, smirking.

***

You’re not sure how many drinks you had after Tony’s announcement, but it was definitely more than your average two. You were past tipsy, and heading straight into crash and burn territory. But not before you did something incredibly stupid that you would definitely regret tomorrow.

You hoped up off of your stool at the bar, pushed past everyone and sauntered straight over to Bucky and slapped him right across the face. The resounding slap making the whole room silent.

Thor who was mere feet away was standing with his mouth hanging open; Steve had stood up from his chair, but was unsure of how to react, you didn’t know, or care where the rest of the team was, and Bucky, Bucky actually smiled.

“You’re a real piece of work ya know that! I can see it in the way you stare at me, you don’t think I am worth your time; you won’t even take the time to get to know the person I might be, no matter how nice I am to you, or how friendly I try to be, you could care less. And it’s bullshit! You treat me like shit on your shoes, you push me harder in sparring than anyone else, and you just about break my back every time we train! What, the actual fuck did I do to you? Huh?!” you threw your arms up in the air, giving a quick circle before turning back to him, “Did I take your favourite coffee cup without asking? Did I take your spot on the couch? Did I offend you in any way? Please for the love of fuck tell me! Because I would really fucking love to know!” When you had finished yelling and realised that everyone was staring at you, whispering, the heat started to come back to your cheeks, and Bucky was still smiling.

“You know what; I’m done trying to be nice. FUCK YOU!” you spat at him, and for a split second, his smile wavered, before he steeled himself. You stormed out of the party, stomping your feet every step of the way to the elevators.

The elevator dinged and you stepped inside. Just as the doors began to shut Bucky shouldered in. He waited for the doors to close, and then hit the emergency stop button, before turning and walking right up to you, backing you into the wall, and put his hands on the wall, either side of your body. You tensed.

His crystal blue eyes bore into you.

“I don’t hate you” he whispered, so soft you barely heard it.

“What?”

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Hate. You” he said, making sure to enunciate every word.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you treat me so shit, huh?!” You tried to get past him, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Because I like you, you intrigue me, you, you’re something else.”

“WHAT?! You treat me like shit because I interest you? Because you like me? What are we, in second grade?!” You were screaming again.

“I treat you like I do, because you’re the strongest person I know, and I know you can take it, anyone else would’ve given up a long time ago, trying to be my friend, but you didn’t, anyone else would’ve punched me in the face for pushing them so hard in training, but not you, you took it and came back for more, it’s exciting.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned. He was being childish. I like you, so I treat you like shit.

“Ya know, a better, more adult way, of treating someone you like is to, A, tell them you like them, B, act like a human being with them, you know smile at them when they smile, say hello when they say hello, not just grunt, and C, maybe once in a while tell them something looks nice; like oh hey Steve love the new hair cut! You know, be a person.” You grumble.

“Okay,” he whispered, taking a step closer to you, the heat radiating off his body, his breath warm on your skin. “Y/N, I like you,” he smiled, “I will endeavour to say hello to you, every time you say it to me, from now on, and also, you look fucking gorgeous in that dress tonight doll face. You give a man all kinds of ideas.” He winked.

Between your thighs got hot and you could feel the pooling in your panties.

You went to push him away, he was clearly drunk and didn’t know what he was saying, but before you could move, he’d pinned your arms above your head, and his lips crashed into yours. It was a deep, hungry kiss. His body was pressed so hard against yours; you could feel him getting hard.

His lips left yours and he started trailing down your neck, until his head was right at the base of the V-neck, just above your breasts. You moaned and he looked up at you from under his lashes and smirked.

“Good to know the feeling is mutual then” he teased. Before making his way back up to your lips. You kissed him again, harder and more hungry than before. Your legs shot up and wrapped around his waist and you rolled your hips against him to get some friction.

“You know I didn’t get to ask, what with you yelling at me,” he said in between kisses, “what do you want for your birthday?”

“You” was all you could croak out.

“And so you shall, as many times as you want, birthday girl.” He grinned.

With that, Bucky let your legs fall back to the floor, which made you whimper; he slammed the button to your floor and when the elevator arrived he pulled you by the arm until you were in your room.

End.

Inspired by the song “Like That” by Bea Miller, specifically these lyrics:

Can see it from the way you looking at me You don't think I'm worth your time Don't care about the person that I might be Offended that I walk the line So what if I'm not So what if I'm not everything you wanted me to be? So what if I am So what if I am more than you can see? When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that It's pushin' me harder, it's pushin' me harder When you breakin' my back, when you breakin' my back

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #avengers #fluff #fluffy #almost smut #sexy bucky #mentions of other avengers #lyrics #inspired by lyrics #so much fluff

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years ago

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Why The Rolex GMT-Master II Is Being Called The Watch Of The Year

http://fashion-trendin.com/why-the-rolex-gmt-master-ii-is-being-called-the-watch-of-the-year/

Why The Rolex GMT-Master II Is Being Called The Watch Of The Year

As with the waterproof watch, the self-winding watch, the watch with date function, the chronometer-certified watch, you name it, one watchmaker was there first: Rolex. And when it came to the world time-telling GMT, the Swiss brand struck again with its GMT-Master of 1955.

Local time display, a secondary, arrow-tipped ‘GMT’ hand that completes a sweep of the dial every 24 hours, plus a 24-hour bezel that rotates should you want to set a third time reference. It’s a simple set-up that’s barely changed since, just tweaked and fine-tuned as is Rolex’s want, unhampered by competition, and right all along.

If you’re in the market for a GMT, chances are you’ve come across this fabled model once or twice, not least because the most recent iteration is a belter.

Not sure if you want one? Read on to learn about its heritage, the newest model and just what makes it so special.

Why Is the Rolex GMT-Master II So Good?

Despite being a byword for luxury watches – the one brand everyone knows – Rolex has never strayed from its singular, and surprisingly affordable mission to make the finest, most reliable ‘tool watches’ on the market. Just as well, because our fine planet boasts a total of 38 timezones, meaning other finicky worldtimer watches can barely keep up technologically, let alone squeeze Nepal (+05:45) or the Chatham Islands (+12:45) onto their dials.

Rolex meanwhile has stuck stoically to keeping pilots on schedule, guilty businessmen aware of another missed bedtime and watch collectors rabidly obsessed over those tiny iterations. But it’s not just globetrotters that are drawn to this unique piece. As 2018’s boom in GMT watches proves, it’s a particularly popular tool for the everyman, and one that will always be wedded to its nostalgic nomenclature.

Rolex GMT-Master II

Sure, you can whip out your iPhone for guaranteed accuracy wherever you’ve touched down, but how many fiddly taps will it take to work out whether it’s too late to phone the office back home? A GMT watch takes just a flick of the wrist. Not only that, but the variety of creative, colourful ways to display that second time-zone means a world of different looks. And Rolex’s new blue-and-red ‘Pepsi’ configuration is the ultimate; the reference among time references if you like.

Its Mid-Century Roots

It was the ref. 6202 “Turn-O-Graph” of 1953 that almost nonchalantly coined the enduring tropes of Rolex’s modern-era sports watches, switching up the famous screwed-down Rolex Oyster case construct of 1926 with a broad rotating timing bezel, screw-down crown ensuring 100m water-resistance and bold luminous numerals. It’s easy to see how the Submariner tumbled out of this the following year, but it’s especially impressive that just another year later, Rolex thought to adopt and adapt the dive-time bezel as the defining feature for its new GMT-Master.

Not only could you set the normal hours hands and arrow-tipped GMT to local time and home time (or actual GMT) respectively, but if you could trust your ability to read the GMT hand according to its position around the dial, you could then adjust the GMT bezel to a third time-zone, reading that from the GMT hours hand again.

Rolex advertising booklet from the 1950s

Unlike the Turn-O-Graph and Submariner, the bezel was bidirectional for added ease of adjustment. Rolex even developed a bezel rotation system with a spring that allows the bezel to be turned crisply and securely in either direction, locating with a positive click in each of the 24 different hour positions. The first bezel configuration was rendered in blue-and-red tinted Plexiglass, but switched day-and-night colour combinations forever onwards, earning plenty of nicknames as a result.

The Rolex GMT-Master II Iterations

Launched in 1955, the Oyster Perpetual GMT-Master witnessed the rapid expansion of intercontinental travel in the latter half of the 20th century. It even became the official watch of Pan American World Airways, better known worldwide as Pan Am, the most prominent American intercontinental airline at the time. Three years later, the bezel also switched from Plexiglass to anodised aluminium – aluminium being easily coloured in an chromatic electrolytic solution, an oxidation process that also increases the metal’s scratch resistance.

Fast forward to 1982 (see, we told you things happened gradually at Rolex) and a new movement was introduced that allowed the hours hand to be set independently of the other hands, earning a suffixed ‘II’ to the GMT-Master name.

Ref. 16760 ‘Fat Lady’

On the original GMT-Master, the conventional hours hand, the minutes hand and the 24-hours hand were synchronized; you had to pull the crown out to the ‘second’ position and rotate the hours and minutes hands to set the date and the 24 hours hand, then pull the crown out to the third and final position to set the local hours hand.

But now, with the GMT-Master II, in the third position you set the GMT hours and minutes, then push the crown to the ‘second’ position to set the local hours and date – a far easier and more intuitive mode of operation. Come 2005, a major upgrade: Rolex replaced the aluminium bezel with its high-tech, in-house ceramic, Cerachrom.

While ceramic in watchmaking had long been mastered by the likes of Rado and Chanel (no, really, Chanel) the fact Rolex managed to make it work for the GMT-Master II is unprecedented for two reasons: the sheer variety of colours where anything beyond black and white commands serious know-how; plus the ability to produce a monobloc circle of ceramic in two contrasting colours, which interface crisply at 0600 and 1800.

Rolex GMT-Master II

In March 2018, at the watch industry’s annual jamboree that is Baselworld, the Pepsi embarked on its latest and greatest generation, in proprietary ‘Oystersteel’, on the fine-linked retro ‘Jubilee’ bracelet, with the new-generation calibre 3285 movement (chronometer rated to above-and-beyond precision, as per). Oh, and there’s a new brown and black bezel combination, too.

Not a lot has changed in this latest and greatest model, to be fair, but Rolex doesn’t go for revolution, just steady evolution. There’s a few snazzy new colourways on offer – including the iconic ‘Pepsi’ iteration – and the multi-linked Jubliee bracelet is once again back in vogue. It’s the colourful bezels that have got the watch folk chatting though.

All The Colours (And Nicknames) Of The GMT-Master II

‘Pepsi’

The original and favourite colour combo of 1955 and 2018, the 24-hour bezel’s blue sector denoting night hours from 1800 to 0600, red denoting daytime from 0600 to 1800.

‘Bruiser’ or ‘Batman’

This black-and-blue GMT-Master II bezel combo launched 2013, as has since been given the nickname ‘Batman’ by fans. Its dark colour combination gives off a moody look befitting of the caped crusader it’s named after.

‘Coca Cola’

The famous black-and-red GMT-Master II bezel combo was first produced 1982. You’ll notice a subtle difference in the size of the crown guards when compared with newer models.

‘Root Beer’ or ‘Dirty Harry’

Another name for the ‘Root Beer’ colour-scheme GMT-Master ref. 1675, famously worn by Clint Eastwood, is the ‘Dirty Harry’, even though his most famous character sported a Timex as he blew away the bad guys.

‘Fat Lady’

The Ref. 16760 GMT-Master II was made between 1983 and 1988 with a red and black bezel, was named for its case being 1mm larger than its counterparts – it’s a hit with collectors today as a result of its rarity.

‘Black & Tan’

Suggestions still being taken for the nickname of this year’s black-and-brown bezel combo. Be warned, ‘Black and Tan’ may be a beer cocktail, yes, but it’s also a highly controversial force recruited during the Irish War of Independence by the British, so best move swiftly on…

The Mechanics

The latest GMT-Master II is kitted out with Rolex’s Calibre 3285. With 10 patent applications filed over the course of its development, this self-winding mechanical watch movement is a consummate demonstration of Rolex’s rock solid, future-forward, lifeproof technology, with fundamental gains in terms of precision, power reserve, resistance to shocks and magnetism, convenience and reliability.

Rolex’s 3285 movement

For a start, Calibre 3285 incorporates Rolex’s patented ‘Chronergy’ version of the Swiss lever escapement (the tiny, ticking mechanism that ekes out the energy running through the gear train – a watch’s pendulum if you like). Made of nickel-phosphorus, it is also insensitive to magnetic interference. An optimised blue Parachrom hairspring is fitted to the oscillating balance wheel, the true beating heart of the watch. Manufactured by Rolex in an exclusive paramagnetic alloy, it is up to 10 times more precise than a traditional hairspring.

What’s more, thanks to its new winding barrel architecture and the escapement’s superior efficiency, the power reserve of Calibre 3285 extends to approximately 70 hours. More than enough to still be ticking come Monday morning, after an inert weekend on your bedside table.

How Did The GMT Watch Come About Anyway?

One sunny day in Washington DC in 1884, the International Meridian Conference decided to chop the Earth into 24 segments – each running an hour ahead of its westerly neighbour. It was about time, so to speak. The rise of global telecommunications and long-distance travel meant we all needed to be on the same page, whether phoning each other at the right time or to avoid crashing one’s train into another.

But where was ‘zero hour’ to be? That, at least was simple: given that zero degrees for longitude’s 360º sweep of Earth’s circumference – the ‘Prime Meridian’ – was pinned to the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, it made sense to lever our entire planet around this leafy south London suburb and its gently ticking precision timekeepers.

Rolex advert, 1969

The ‘Greenwich Mean Time’ reference and every relative time-zone thus cemented, the great and the good threw themselves into newfangled intercontinental travel, whether by Pullman carriage or Cunard cabin. Unsurprisingly, by the 1930s their accompanying wristwatches started featuring elaborate ‘worldtimer’ complications, telling the time in Calcutta or Rio de Janeiro with suitably romantic enamel dials.

But once jet travel became the norm in the 1950s something more business-like was needed – especially by the airliner pilots, who just needed a dual-time display: a fixed GMT time reference, with a local time display to adjust with every hop of a time zone or date-line. And thus, the GMT wristwatch was born.

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