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S.H.I.E.L.D. Database | Strike Team Delta: Operation Report ‘New York’

(Source: street-of-mercy, via soldierhusbands)

I’m an orphan raised by carnies fighting with a stick and a string from the Paleolithic era. So when I say this looks “bad”? I promise you it feels worse.

(Source: rromanoffs, via queerboochananbarnes)


What do you think it is about Hawkeye that’s so compelling as a character?

(Source: hawxkeye, via casfelldown)

--shut up that was totally intentional

gilajames said: I AM GOING TO COME SIT BY YOU AND GIVE YOU PROMPTS. Sam/Clint, stuck in a hallway waiting for a meeting to be over and playing some game with the pieces in their heads. (Chess, cards, etc.) Who cheats? How?


Sam has met most of the Avengers by this point. Steve brought him with him when he went by Avengers (nee Stark) Tower, so he met the Hulk-in-casual-clothes and Tony Stark while they were both in their pajamas. They also had something on fire in the microwave and the explanation—though incredibly long—didn’t make a whole lot of sense. But he met them. And Widow, yeah, he felt pretty comfortable knowing that the Black Widow had used his little sister’s flat iron when she and Steve had stayed at his place in DC.

So the only one he hadn’t met was Hawkeye. They weren’t talking about Hawkeye and Natasha had gone all stony-silent the one time his name had come up. He was probably not dead, Sam though, because it would have been hard to keep that under wraps. Probably.

Then one day Sam came to the Tower for a meeting with Maria Hill—acting ostensibly for Stark Industries but so clearly still for Fury, who did they think they were fooling?—and there was a dude in raggedy jeans and a dirty purple t-shirt sitting on the floor outside Maria’s closed office door.

"She’s running behind schedule," the guy said, not looking up.

"OK," said Sam. The hallway was entirely empty, that kind of almost-asylum florescent chic. He sat down next to the guy.

They waited a few minutes. The silence crept on.

Sam risked a glance to the side. The guy looked…it wasn’t a soldier’s pain he was wearing, but it was something Sam had seen before. His particular brand of hurt had always been about being useless or being left behind. He’d seen other vets, though, who came back so guilty they hated themselves. They looked like this guy.

"I spy with my little eye," said Sam slowly, eyes closed, "something starting with Q."

The guy shifted and Sam still didn’t open his eyes.

"There’s not a goddamn thing in this hallway and your eyes are closed," the guy pointed out.

"That’s not a yes or no question," said Sam. He opened his eyes and looked at the guy, meeting his eyes full on. And, jesus, what eyes. Sam felt almost naked under his gaze.

"Is it an animal?" the guy asked.

Sam grinned. “Yeah.”

"Is it a fucking quail?" Now the guy looked like he was half a step closer to smiling.

"I was just gonna go with ‘quail.’ But, ok, it’s a quail mid-coitus."

That made the guy snort.

There was another long silence.

"I spy with my little eye," the guy said suddenly, "something starting with P."

"Is it an animal?"


"Is it a bird?"

"Yeah." The guy frowned.

"It’s a pigeon, isn’t it." Sam was grinning big and wide.

"Fuck." The guy raked a hand across his face and, yeah, he was almost halfway to smiling now. "Yeah."

"I’m sort of great at birds," said Sam apologetically. "It’s my thing."

"Yeah?" the guy asked, tipping his head to the side to give Sam an even more scrutinizing once over. "Sort of my thing too."

"Sam Wilson," said Sam, holding out a hand. "The. Um. The Falcon."

The guy shook his hand. “Clint Barton.” He grinned. “Hawkeye.”

Sam’s eyes widened, still grinning. “Nice to meet you.”


imagine clint’s face when he sees yondu’s arrow

(via kickingshoes)





I’ve decided I’m going to do a fic fest tomorrow once I’m home, but today I have the end of conference and a lot of travel and I am a bit walking wounded right now so I am offering a TURNAROUND FEST to give me reading material in the airport.

If you see this, comment or reblog with a tiny short fanfic in the fandom, ship, and/or trope of your choosing. Doodles also welcome. 

CREATIVITY! *jazz hands*

first draft excerpt from a longer 616!clint/kate fic for copperbadge

caps are sign language, the rest you can probably work out for yourselves

context: hawkeye #19 was partially in sign language, because clint has been deafened. so this is about deaf clint.


Open the door.

Hawkeye. Shades, arms crossed, looking like the fury that hell hath not.






“I – futz – Katie, come in, alright?”

Lowers her shades. Glaring. Storms past, throws coat on couch. Dog trots behind.

Bend down. Hug your dog. Your dog. Back. Licks your face – wet - cold nose and jumps up at you. Opens mouth. Barking.

“Hey, Lucky.” More barking. Headbutts your crotch. “Yeah. I get it. Don’t make a scene, buddy.” More barking, probably.

Straighten up. Kate making coffee. Back to you.


Looks at you.


Uh. What?


Blushes. Still angry. Kind of cute.

“You can sign?”

Fuming. Youtube. I needed to yell at you. 

Laugh. Pause. She pours a cup and slides the pot over to you. Sits on the counter with her leg dangling, the other, barefooted, tucked up underneath her.

“That’s unhygienic.”

You’re unhygienic.

“Real mature there, Hawkeye.”

I’m so mad at you. Hands are tight on the mug. Her little wrists have tan-lines. Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

It’s a poem. You read it once. With Bobbi, maybe.

You haven’t told Bobbi.

Aw, futz.

She’s still talking. Zone back in. Hands are flying back and forth across her face.

“Can you move your hands less? I can’t read your lips.”


“Hey. Katie-Kate. It’s okay. Just – chill. Be chill.”

Shit. Sorry.

“It’s alright. Go slow.”

Riiiiiiiiiiiiighhhhht. Oooooohhhhkaaaaaaayyyyyy. Liiiiiiiiiikkkkkeeeee thiiiiiiiiisssss -

“Little faster than that.”

Glare. She takes a deep breath in.

I’m mad at you! Like, Clint, I am going to kill you mad at you! You idiot! You – I had to hear from your brother -

“Wasn’t exactly up to phone-calls - ”

You can still text, dumbass, you’ve got hands!


Shut up! Shut up and let me yell at you! God, you’re impossible. She drags her hands through her hair – it’s been cut, up in a ponytail, the way she thinks looks more sensible but actually looks kinda goofy to you. One hand covers her eyes. Pushes her shades up over her bangs.

Eyes look kinda red and puffy -


I should have been here, she says, and you can’t hear the break in the voice but you can see it. She bites her lip. If I hadn’t something? it wouldn’t have happened because I would have been here and you were an ass and you deserved to be left but you didn’t deserve this, and now everything’s ruined and goddamn it Barton you are something rude probably and how did you screw up this bad?

Take her by the shoulders. “I’m okay.”

She punches your arm, yells something that you don’t see because you’re covering your face. You look up. I KNOW YOU’RE OKAY, UNDOUBTEDLY INVENTIVE CURSEWORDS, BUT WHAT IF YOU HADN’T BEEN? WHAT IF -

She hides behind her hands. Big breath. Steeling herself.

Katie Kate. Likes to be in control. Scared of losing. Scared of failing.

Ohhhh. Barton, you dummy.

Oh Fraction. I haven’t read #19 yet  but it’s ok, I still understand how not-understanding shit feels because I’ve read the last ten Hawkeyes. :D

(Source: hawxkeye, via genoshaisforlovers)

(Source: bobbimorses, via soldierhusbands)


Clintasha & Text Posts Part 2

(via thymetraveler)


"You have heart" 

(via sekra)


(Source: viktorcreed, via tardiscrash)

--shut up that was totally intentional

polytropic-liar said: Sam/Clint??? Yessss all my dreams just came true. Plot bunny: Sam somehow gets stuck with the job of explaining to Clint what happened to SHIELD.


There was, of course, a massive showdown happening upstairs. Sam had figured that was gonna be how it was as soon as Captain America ran by too fast on his left, to be honest. It all seemed inevitable. Sam had been waiting all along for a supervillain to twirl a moustache and speechify about his glorious plans for killing everybody.

But the phone rang and he picked up without thinking.

It was some sort of hindbrain response. Possibly all those call centers he worked in during high school.

"Hello?" he asked the phone, blinking at his own stupidity. It’s a fucking master spy organization with levels of super villainous plotters mixed in. Who answers the bright red phone and just says, "hello?"

"…what?" said the voice on the other end of the line. Clearly this was not how SHIELD employees answered the phone.

"Um," said Sam. "Everyone here is doing, you know, superhero stuff at the moment." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You could call back later?"

Superhero stuff?” the voice asked. “Who the hell is this?”

And, well. He’d joined up with Captain America, that sort of made him a superhero by association, right?

"Yeah. Right. This is Falcon?" said Sam. "Or. Um. The Falcon?”

"Jesus christ," said the other voice. "Did you invade SHIELD and then crack under the pressure of a phone call?"

"No! I didn’t inva—well, I sort of did. But only because Captain America was doing it."

"…you got peer pressured into invading a major international spy and security organization."

"Yes. Basically."

"OK, I’m gonna need you to tell me why Captain America is invading SHIELD,” the guy said. “Is he there? Can you put him on the phone?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he’s just hanging out with me on the phone mid-mission. We were braiding each other’s hair.”

"Well, how the fuck am I supposed to know?" There was a sigh. "Look, can you just find out from someone if Hawkeye needs to come in, The Falcon?”

Sam frowned.

"When you say my name like that, it sounds stupid," he pointed out. "That’s uncalled for."

Then the penny dropped.

"Oh, shit is this Hawkeye Hawkeye, the dude who fought aliens with Paleolithic weaponry?” he said, breathless, but also aware that there was a potential for getting his starstruck all over this mission and he had work to do before he could just abandon his dignity like that.

"You know, you’re the first one who got ‘Paleolithic’ on the first go. Most people say stone age." Hawkeye sounded amused. It was one thing to ride with Captain America on a one-off gig, it was quite another to chat with superheroes on the phone.

"I watch the History Channel."

There was the sound of gunfire down the hall.

"Sorry, Hawkeye, gotta run," he said. He could hear a sputter of some sort of complaint or warning as he hung up the bright red phone.

Spies, man. For all that this place was all about secrets, sometime they could be so damn obvious.


#actual nice jewish boy peter parker

(Source: cap-ney-ney)

I’ve literally had nothing else to think about for the last 30 hours but that. [x]

(Source: empiristic, via queenklu)