#rp; spartaxprince

[izzysarchivedblogs]

"bad day?" to clint

200 dialogue prompts -> accepting ask // @spartax-prince

He really wasn't a fan of when anything outside the Earth's atmosphere decided to make its known at the front door. Metaphorically speaking, Clint would like to meet with an explosive arrow times four-thousand. ⸻ He might like Star Trek as fiction, but when it came to cosmic-galactic space stuff in their reality. He'd like it if it was about eight-thousand light years away from him.

There's nothing that makes him feel smaller, more useless than when the Guardians show up to help combat the aliens and threats from outside the solar system that decided Earth was going to be its nesting ground or whatever. He had not been thrilled when the Avengers emergency signal went out three day ago and he ended up on the space team.

The threat's done now, clean up crews rolling out and he would've thought the Guardians had gone home by now. He doesn't dislike any of them to be clear, Clint's just not made to be a space man. Curse of being immortal. The archer's looking over the city on a balcony, beer in hand, the pack at his feet, and he takes a sip as Quill approaches him.

❝ You could call it that. ⸻ I thought you'd have taken off by now. . . Beer? ❞ Considering how much Clint got thrown around, it had been a tough day. There's nothing like the weightlessness of no gravity that made you feel weak.

❝ I don't know how you do it, Quill. Live up there. ❞