mental link;

[cognitived]

PRACTICAL if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it.	RESILIENT do you know what it's like to be unmade?
SKILLED if i miss, it means im just another dude with a bow.	DETERMINED this is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

late day 011

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam's not necessarily a mess after he comes back from talking with Steve and Bucky, but he's not holding together as well as he had before. It'd been exhausting trying to keep his and Bucky's emotions regulated, to extend his support out without forcing calm on Bucky or accidentally bleeding his own shit out on him.

But honestly, he's pretty sure that wouldn't have taken a toll on him near as much if it wasn't for what was going on with Steve. Nothing's changed there any more than it had before he'd gone to check in with them, and he's very carefully not dealing with how it felt to have his best friend look at him like a stranger. To know that he's not gonna be welcome at Steve's side, that Steve's not gonna have his back like they've done for more than two years.

It's eating at him, and he doesn't have a damn clue what to do about it.

Sam's still trying to keep himself on lockdown, but man after that, he's itching for a break so he can relax. Unfortunately, it's not like there's anywhere he can really relax enough, to not have to worry about one of the other Hosts picking up on more of him than he wants to give.

Which is why he's not actually at the Bearings at the moment, he's just kind of... circling around it. But even with that, as soon as Clint's in range, close enough to feel him through the mental link - Sam’s mind reaches out without him even realizing it. A quiet brush against his, a nudge that's closer to hey than anything else. ]

[cognitived]

[ Something's been up with Sam for a while now. A background hum, something he hasn't let Clint see, not really. For those of the Hive used to the sharing of minds, to the unity of beings, it might seem like omission.

It isn't.

Clint might not know what Sam's thinking, but he's known the man for years now, worked with him off and on for a good chunk of it. The last few months -- well they've simply added to that. But more importantly, Clint was there. He was there that first moment they woke up with Barnes, and the moment they saw Steve, young and thin, bird-boned. So yeah, he might not know, but he's put together awareness with far less information.

So now, Sam's mind reaches out, gentle like the lap of wave to shore, and Clint's tuning in almost before he realizes it. It's easy, now, even if there's still a low current of unease that filters through Clint at this sort of connection. Nothing he won't force himself through, eventually. But for now, Sam aches with exhaustion, a soft grief buried in the thread of his mind. It's enough. Clint lets him in, the petals of his mind unfurling for the sun, and steadies himself. Softly, a hey returned, even as he laces a c'mere through it. Soft, but it's not really gentle. Sam doesn't need kid gloves. ]

day: 021.

[deployed]

[ Briefly, the link between Bellamy and his broodmates sparks to life. Bellamy floods the link with disbelief, which gives way to crippling grief and anger. His thoughts skip through an assortment of faces, linger on Clarke Griffin and Octavia Blake before Bellamy forcibly breaks contact.

No apologies for the interruption. ]

day 25; this got so long I'm sorry

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Since they first arrived on this planet, things have been unsettling. Between Steve not knowing him and Barnes's everything, the whole Hive thing and having to navigate around the prescence of others in his head - well, Sam's pretty damn grateful for Clint's company. It helps, having someone that he already trusted, that he knows didn't come entirely from the symbiote.

It's not like Sam regrets taking the deal, not really - he's taken worse, for the team, for the safety of the world. Both he and Clint have. And he does believe that the team was saved - after all, he and Clint and Barnes were - he's just not sure about the rest of it. This mission is hard to read, and it doesn't much feel like interferring with the two different factions is doing a lot to help save the rest of the universe. And while it ain't like it's the first time that Sam's followed orders he didn't necessarily have the full picture behind, that was the kind of thing he stopped doing after he got out of the military.

So far he just hasn't been involving himself as much as he could, sticking to where he's needed and to the other Hosts. And to catching Clint when he jumps off of rooftops when their mission goes sideways, apparently. He hadn't been able to stop from overextending himself trying to help the victims of the explosion, either, and he's quietly grateful that Clint had been there to half-drag his ass back.

Another thing he's carefully not dealing with right now, the fact that his symbiote ability means he can't use the skills he learned as a pararescueman. Just gives him more reason to try to gain control over them, he guesses.

At least he's not sleep deprived on top of everything else, with he and Clint bunking together and trading shifts. And it means they're there when nightmares happen, their own or from something bleeding through the mental link.

Like now. Or, well, not technically a nightmare, but definitely something that snaps Sam into confused wakefulness, agitated and unsettled. Something feels... right, it feels like he was damn near made whole again, and that registers as something very, very wrong. It takes no time at all for him to brush against Clint's mind, not when he can already feel Clint seeking him out. ]

( What the hell? )

day: 026.

[deployed]

( Clint? )

[cognitived]

( Bellamy? ) [ Faint curiosity, the snap of his focus settling scope bright. ] ( Need something? )

after the vigil and stuff (idk time)

[decommission]

[ Steve's way of getting a person's mental attentions remains the same as always: a knock on a door that doesn't physically exist, a sense of question are you busy? ]

what is time

[cognitived]

[ It's effective, and Clint appreciates the politeness. There's soft surprise, and a returned negative, before Clint's mind unspools enough to let Steve in. His mind swims for a brief second, in a burst of image and sound, that seems to imply nothing so much as: Steve. ]

( Hey, what's up? )

day 26/27 somewhere in there idk

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ When Sam comes into the room, he's accompanied by a low wave of exhaustion trickling through their mental link. It lasts only for a moment before he catches himself and pulls it back with the brush of an apology.

Sam drops a plate of pizza down on the desk and thows an apple at Clint’s head, shooting a teasing grin at him even as he rubs his eyes tiredly. ]

No one sleeps around here, man, I'm never gonna touch anyone again.

timelines are for the weak

[cognitived]

[ The exhaustion leaks through their mental link, a boneweary ache that's painfully familiar to Clint. Even before he realizes it, Clint's tuning in to Sam, wondering, aching, silent as soon as that apology sweeps through him and their minds pull apart at the seem.

One hand lifts to snag the apple out of the air, casual, unthinkingly. Sam shoots him a grin, and Clint returns it even as he shines the apple against his shirt. ]

Does this mean you're like an energy drink? [ Okay, maybe it's more like a shit eating grin, now. Mimicking an infomercial guy. ] One shot of Sam an' you'll be on your feet no time!

day ?? WHEREVER IT FITS IN

[quivers]

[ It's probably a lot later than it should be. Anyone would typically be sleeping at this time. But Kate doesn't tend to stick to the typical way. It's all strange, all of this, all of everyone. It's hard to know who to reach out to when she can't really tell what side everyone's on.

Most of the names that go through her head, they're not here. There's one that floats around that has a body in this place, but she knows it isn't the same. But it's something. ]

( You know what sucks about this place? The lack of 3am hour-long infomercials. )

[ Because, you know, he couldn't have possibly been sleeping, Kate. ]

HELLA

[cognitived]

[ It's pretty late, yeah, but luckily for Kate, Clint's not one for typical sleep schedules. In fact, he's on shift right now -- which mostly means Sam's crashed and Clint's skimming news articles and wondering if this world has their own version of Buzzfeed.

So Kate mentally barges in, and Clint doesn't bother hesitating. There's a burst of amusement like static, the impression of a smile. ]

( Never thought I'd miss the Sham-wow guy this much. )

day 001 first night on the station

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam'd wandered off after they'd claimed the least insect looking ship in the hangar for their own - like hell was he gonna sleep in those doorless, cell-like pods of the communal life support area - too restless not to explore a little.

But now the brush of his mind against Clint’s grows just a little stronger. It's not like they're not damn near always aware of each other’s presence, but it's just a little more there at the moment. A little more warm, a little more relaxed, and a fuzzy contentment bleeds through absently. ]

[cognitived]

[ its -- weird being back here, after so long planetside. Not that they'd spent much time originally, of course, a day or two, lost in the sweep of too much too much, minds pressing ininin. But that's familiar now, easy, careless almost. Enough that Clint never quite loses sight of the others stitched in his mind, DarklingBellamyShiroBruceRey one twisting litany in the back of his mind.

Sam's there too, of course, a spark gleaming in against the black.

Hey might have wandered away, but his mind still sings. Enough that the strengthened brush of mind against mind calls him instantly. Attention drawn, curious at the relaxed edge, the softened contentedness that eases into his chest cavity. Curious, even as he reaches back, a fond little burst of feeling, curious curious. Sam? Unspoken but understood. ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Around the time this is happening-

It's likely that Clint already knows that something's going on, given the emotions that Sam's putting off - it's not intentional, of course, but his shields always take so much more effort to keep up around Clint with how much they're in each other’s heads, how much they worked together to form their shields in the first place.

Too much effort, especially when they're in the same place, and though Sam's conversation with Shepard over the mental link is private, Clint gets more of his feelings around it than she does. Frustration, uncertainty, concern, all developing into the quiet determination and low key adrenaline he gets when he’s made up his mind to do something that he thinks is risky but necessary.

When he pauses in talking with Shepard, he rocks back to stretch out his arms, making a face at himself and shooting a wry grin over at Clint. ]

She says she can kill people with her mind if her shields aren't good enough and shit bleeds out.

[cognitived]

[ he knows, he knows. ebbing at the walls of his mind, wind through chinks in his armor, curling closer. a snapshot of sam in the breath of his lungs, the thread of his thoughts. dangerous, easy. they're half in each other's minds far too often, it's no longer strange to feel sam's thoughts, emotions, thready in the back of his mind.

frustration not his own wells up, bitter upon the tongue. sharpens itself with the whetstone of determination.

sam turns his way, and clint's gaze flicks over instinctively, brow cocked. mouth curves, slow, before stuttering, shifting, stilling. brows lift, then draw together, heavy over sharp eyes. danger, he near trills, sharp sharp sharp, instinctive need to observe, catalog, contain. ]

Just what we needed.

[ he says instead, wry, wry, wry. ]

[earthborn]

[Not long after this brief warning is issued.]

( Excuse me, are you... Clint? ) [There is a thinking pause] ( ...Barton? )

[Yeah, that sounds right.]

( I got Sam Wilson here. He touched something he shouldn't have and I'm gonna need some help getting him to the medical bay, and he mentioned you before we got started here. He's gonna need monitoring for at least the next seventy-two hours. )

[If he survives that long, to begin with.]

[cognitived]

[ her mind touches his, steel-cold and unfamiliar, draws him in with a curious acknowledgement. new blood is always interesting, especially in the spindling turn of the nest. but the indulgence fades immediately, turned over for the familiar objectivity of assassin as soon as she brings up sam. clint's attention focuses to a pinpoint, mind splitting, reaching out, sam? sam samsamsam--

he remembers, the wry little conversation they'd had not too long ago. because who else could this be? of course, of course, it's just like sam to put himself in danger like this. just like sam to stumble upon something he shouldn't have, while trying to help. at least this time, he's not getting a building dropped on him.

clint's not sure this is better. ]

( On my way. )

[ he bites out instead, moving quickly and calmly, hiding the way he's anything but. ]

day 8 or 9 or something idk

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ They're both used to down time, to more than one kind of down time. To the kind that comes with convincing themselves that they're retired, that down time is their life now and they won't jump back in as soon as the call comes, knowing underneath everything else that they always will. And to this kind, between missions, when you fit in blowing off steam and perfecting your skills, pushing yourself when you've got a safety net to fall back on so things don't go sideways during the mission.

Sam's been doing it with his healing - he'd done it back on Concordia, of course, mostly with Clint and the small number of others who'd let him - and now Clint with his shadows. Clint'd nearly given him a heart attack with the way he'd discovered it, but he's gotten more control since then. Probably not as good as it could be, though, so of course Clint is pushing himself.

And Sam wouldn't be anywhere else but with him, even if he's not actually with him. He can't even see Clint at the moment, wrapped in shadows as he is, but he can feel him. He can keep in touch with him mentally. ]

( It still seems cold as shit in there, man. Coming up on the twenty minute mark. )

bats lashes at

[cognitived]

[ down time is as unfamiliar as a familiar concept can be. it's little hands and giant smiles, wheat and sun and oil-stained rags in back pockets. it's arrow after arrow fired with lazy precision, the building twitchiness that comes with no mission, no threat, nothing but idle work.

clint was never made for down time. but he tried, god he tried.

in a way, it's easier here. with laura, with the kids, it had been a domesticity he'd always felt an impostor in. here, it's the drive to be better, to prepare, a battle in his veins, curling at the edge of them all. it's sam training his healing, and clint sinking into shadow, testing edges. but -- it is cold. a creeping, crawling, thing. a cold that nips at fingertips, seeps softly into flesh and blood and bone. clint cannot see his breath, but something innate says he should. ]

( I can go longer. )

[ he returns, though something, something is building. or perhaps, severing. softly, quietly, hidden beneath the edge of cold. ]

DAY - UH, WHENEVER REN GOES TO SLEEP.

[unsea]

[ Somewhere, one of Gacrux's own is in the deeps.

The sensation of drowning ( water filling the eyes, the nose, the mouth ) --

and of RESENTMENT. Burning, boiling hot, causing the waters around to foam and froth, turning over and over.

At the edge, the black poisons of another.

( Sorry gents, Ilde and the Darkling are engaging one another in a little waterboarding. Here's the backlash. ) ]

backdated to day 36 or so

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ There's a sensation like a thoughtful hum as Sam turns his focus more towards the connection between him and Clint, making it more of a present thing than just an unconscious awareness in the back of his mind. ]

( I got an idea that's either really sappy and kind of dumb or pretty great. Or both. )

excellent <33333

[cognitived]

[ The growing threads between them light up like livewire, humming softly, and Clint turns. Tunes in, soft and curious, hello, hello. ]

( Yeah? Don't leave me hanging, man. )

Pre-Waypoint End idk day 38 or something

[shiro2hero]

(Can... we talk about something?)

[There's a pause. A hesitant sort of silence. Edged in embarrassment.]

(It's not as bad as it sounds, I swear.)

yaaas

[cognitived]

[ Curious, immediate. ]

( Yeah, go ahead. What's up? )

early day :043

[huntsmachines]

( Clint? )

[ She's not sure if this is working or not. Still new at telepaht. Plus, like, she's never really had friends or anything so is she allowed to just ask? ]

sounds good!

[cognitived]

[ It works, and Clint's attention falls to her in a pinpoint, hello hello. ]

( Aloy. ) [ Warm with greeting. ] ( What's up? )

day 55; late

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ check out this conversation bro it's rapidly progressing from great this again to well we're boned.

isn't it nice to feel right at home getting thrown into missions with no extraction plan should they blow their cover. ]

[cognitived]

[ Awareness of Sam's mind is something low-burning and ever-present, a muted hum at the back of his thoughts. Which mostly means Clint's awareness brightens as soon as he feels the unease, snapping into focus as Sam offers the threads of a conversation.

He doesn't like doing this, but -- between one breath and the next Clint slots himself deeper in Sam's mind. There's a faint sensation like a hand stroking the nape of neck in apology, before he submerges in the memory. Fingers digging into thought, plucking it apart moment by moment. A pause, as if to rewind, and then slower. Eventually, Clint pulls back, a disquieted but unsurprised sort of hum filling the shape of his mind. ]

( Surprised this didn't happen earlier. )

[ Don't assume he's pleased, though. ]

day: 003

[deployed]

[ there's a slow, intense wash of emotion spilling outward from bellamy. he is not making much attempt to curb his reaction to clarke; anticipation gives way to relief and joy. it's all very extra. he may or may not apologize for it after the fact but right now the only thing holding his attention is clarke. ]

[cognitived]

[ It's a rush, the relief-joy-she's here welling up beneath flesh and blood and bone. For a moment, Clint dwells -- a flicker of thought, Nat -- before there's a soft press, fingertips to shoulder, settling.

Maybe later he'll find Bellamy, but for now, well -- for now he's strangely happy. ]

when Steve falls into a coma

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ There is the sense of stumbling, of someone leaning on something familiar and expected that is suddenly no longer there and grasping hold of what is in order to steady themselves. A sense of something aching and desperate, and Sam anchors himself into his connection with Clint, holding on tight. And holding on, and holding on, and as much as they're a part of each other, as wrapped up in each other as they are - they don't do this often, not this focused, this purposeful.

Not unless something's wrong. Unless one of them is having a nightmare or a panic attack or needs to be pulled back from the edge of a symbiote ability or someone else's mind.

Maybe later, Sam will be apologetic, but right now he doesn't even think. ]

sad birbs

[cognitived]

[ It's a gasp of breath, the moment before a fall, the sinking feeling of sand crumbling underfoot. The feedback of the loss of a pillar of support, and suddenly Sam is there sinking into the connection between them. Pinions carving deep into the yielding span of his mind, a dazed gasp for air, reaching back back back. Sam, he murmurs, curling the louder flurry of feather-wheat-smoke-nothing to see tighter around the both of them. Tighter, blocking the world from this tenuous space between them.

There's no need for further words, but something slips through anyway. That all encompassing, overwhelming loyalty, the notion that Clint will go to the ends of the world for the man written deep in the span of his mind. I've got you, in the wordless embrace. ]

day 2/3 somewhere in the Disguise Mission

[shiro2hero]

[It's after this that poor Clint is getting the mental version of someone taking his hands. Smashing them against their face.]

[And yelling.]

[Angry, muffled, yelling.]

(Why is it so hard for people to work together? Am I just crazy?)

[A pause.]

(That last question was rhetorical.)

[cognitived]

[ ???! ]

( Wha-- )

[ This is kinda weird, uhm, hello ???? After a maybe too long moment Clint simply sets aside the impression, sending back his own of a somewhat awkward shoulder pat. It's ok kid, get it out of your system. ]

( Pretty sure we're all a bit crazy here. )

[ Vaguely cheerful and not at all helpful, thanks Clint. ]

( Who were you trying to round up? )

day something something idk

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ It's during downtime between some of the riding events that Sam's taking a break from mingling to relax and do some more research - which mostly means he'd shoved Clint's legs aside and dropped down next to him, only to have the jerk plop them back in his lap.

He's got an alien book of love poetry propped up on Clint's knees, occasionally looking up to watch Clint splitting feathers for his arrows or feed the grey-blue bird with them some jerky. Sam's - trying to focus, kind of, but even without their lack of shields it'd be obvious he's distracted. ]

( Let me know if you need more of those, I've got some in my stuff from these two. )

lmao bless

[cognitived]

[ In truth, Clint misses the constant, familiar weight of his quiver here. The gauzy layers of fabric create some measure of anonymity, as fickle as it is, and he's loathe to lose it. Especially after the time he's spent carefully crafting his image, of letting himself slide unconsciously from thought and perception. Doesn't mean he can't craft in his down time, though.

The sounds filling the room are faint at the edge of his hearing; the turning of pages, the 'shhhk' of pinions splitting beneath his knife, the soft whirring-chirrups of the bird at Sam's shoulder. Easy, comfortable, Clint's mind drifts until the unspooled threads of Sam's thoughts catch at him. A dual hum, caught in the back of his throat and edged at the curl of his mind, as Clint flicks his gaze up at Sam. Assessing. ]

( Got plenty enough for now. )

[ Idle agreement, but there's a pleased edge to it -- the eternally happy surprise at Sam's little gestures. Gruff, but in the way Sam knows is all show. ]

( Thanks, though. )

day 25ish

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam is - not doing all that great. There are two people who are entwined so completely into his mind that he doesn't feel like himself when he's distant from them, and one of them is currently in a coma. Hell, he'd almost been pulled under with him, and it's only because he buried himself in the minds of people that he's close to that he'd been able to avoid it.

And he hasn't let go, not of Clint. It's not really that he's more present in Clint's mind than he usually is, it's just that this is the longest that he's been more in Clint's mind than his own.

If he's honest, Sam's afraid. It'd been bad, when Clint slipped into sleep for a little bit on Concordia - the idea of losing Clint now, when he can feel Clint echoed in every breath - it's too much.

He hasn't slept. He's afraid of that, too, afraid that if he lets his guard down, if he falls asleep - afraid they'll take Bucky from him, bring him back to the Station, afraid that Sam'll still follow him under. It's been a few days, way longer than he should have gone without sleeping, and he knows it, he just -

He can't. Sam's not exactly thinking straight, but he - it's not exactly like his fear's a secret, it's not like much of anything he's got is a secret with Clint. He needs - he doesn't know what he needs.

Can I his mind murmurs, as he winds himself more into Clint, anchoring himself. ]