➶ NEVER MISS

[awbro]

➶ OKAY, THIS LOOKS BAD ... #AWBRO, an independent earth-616-based clint barton ( aka hawkeye ) from marvel comics.

MCU-based blogs welcome, but content/background is exclusive to comics ( with the exception of faceless/aesthetic posts ). prose-heavy, multi-verse, multi-ship, panfandom, & oc-friendly. written by bucku, 30+. engages with writers 21+ only. graphics by calisverse.

BLOGROLL: @aliasinvestigate / @picksmusic / @queensupe / @reignthem

currently reading: thunderbolts ( 2022 )

CARRD | MEMES | affiliated with: @zimwy

[aliasinvestigate]

if you like the Pitt you can find me @pittbangs

[picksmusic]

DRIVER PICKS THE MUSIC, SHOTGUN SHUTS HIS CAKEHOLE! ... #PICKSMUSIC, an independent dean winchester from the cw's supernatural.

prose-heavy, multi-verse, multi-ship, panfandom, & oc-friendly. written by bucku, 30+. engages with writers 21+ only. CARRD. ©

[picksmusic]

DRIVER PICKS THE MUSIC, SHOTGUN SHUTS HIS CAKEHOLE! ... #PICKSMUSIC, an independent dean winchester from the cw's supernatural.

prose-heavy, multi-verse, multi-ship, panfandom, & oc-friendly. written by bucku, 30+. engages with writers 21+ only. CARRD. ©

[atomikats]

after a long day at the long day factory

[picksmusic]

DRIVER PICKS THE MUSIC, SHOTGUN SHUTS HIS CAKEHOLE! ... #PICKSMUSIC, an independent dean winchester from the cw's supernatural.

prose-heavy, multi-verse, multi-ship, panfandom, & oc-friendly. written by bucku, 30+. engages with writers 21+ only. CARRD. ©

[fianchettoed]

"Our dog." She doesn't waste too much energy on the counter-correction — still, it's very much slipped in between Clint's remarks. Kate shrugs, as if rendering that whole chapter water off a duck's back. Nope, no need to rehash all that. "Hey, c'mon, I never pick him up without an announcement."

"Shit... that means this is pretty serious." Feet get to pacing. It all seems very natural, despite being put-on. With a little sleight of hand it almost seems like she just picked up the creased paper she's holding from the ground near his door. "Wait, what's this? Oh my god, look." Free hand rises, shielding her mouth as she gasps. "It's a letter from Lucky."

Holding it up for Clint to see, totally-not-Kate has written in a messy scrawl ; RAИ AWAY SINTS U DONT KARE ☹

[awbro]

" a letter from ... ? " accordion brows squeeze in. he's across the room in two long strides to snatch the piece of paper out from kate's upturned hand. the look he throws her is dark & disbelieving before he so much as glances at the misshapen, misspelled mess on the paper ( that's totally not a dog's handwriting ). SINTS YOU DONT KARE stares back from the paper pleated over & feathery at the furrow. " aw, c'mon. "

knuckles dusted in a series of slashed scrapes & mottling bruises in shades of violet to chartreuse bite into the high peak of his hip.

" you don't really expect me to believe the pizza dog wrote me a note explaining why he ran away. "

the runaway note wags like the aforementioned canine's ear between them, flagged & chiding at the same time. " what exactly are you trying to play at? "

[helraising-archived]

when in the hell did they have the time to become friends amid all of that chaos?‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ whatever, huntress has more ridiculous things to comment on,‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ like —

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“boomerang arrow,” ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎she echoes, voice and face blank as she processes every single life decision that has led up to this. ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎( and clint is not kidding her, to top it all off. ) ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“congratulations. ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎just when i thought i couldn’t think any less of hand bows, ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎you pull off the impossible, barton.”

christ. she better keep on going before new york surprises her with government-sanctioned gigantic murder robots next. ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“don’t have a choice to say no if that’s our only getaway left,” ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎she turns sideways to spare him a glance,‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ matching not his smile but his unserious energy, admittedly contagious - somewhat.‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ “but i’m sure i’ll like it a lot when either of us inevitably falls off.”

[awbro]

LESS OF HAND BOWS? skepticism, in a world where gods drop from the sky hurling hammers while haloed in blue, scorching streaks of lightning is ... rare ... but healthy. after decades of leveraging only the sinewy measure of muscles structured to the pinnacle of their potential & a wiry craftiness, clint is habituated to being looked at as lesser than. being underestimated is its own wealth.

" hey, would you say that to green arrow? " ravages his mouth into a twisted, put-upon kind of scowl. as he summons the cycle via a quick tap to his stark-tech hearing aids & a voice command clipped, clint hikes a heel up onto a nearby fire escapes rust-bitten hinges. hauling up the rungs hand-over-hand, the telltale shape of his preferred vehicle ( newly refurbished ) dips down from between the buildings to settle on a neat landing.

one leg slides past the chromium seat, & clint pats the space behind him for @helraising. " guessing that one's gonna be you, " he says as they drift up off the ground. fingertip touching his goggles down to the brim of his nose, mouth perking on either side, " been flying this thing for years hands-free. gets the job done just fine. "

[picksmusic]

DRIVER PICKS THE MUSIC, SHOTGUN SHUTS HIS CAKEHOLE! ... #PICKSMUSIC, an independent dean winchester from the cw's supernatural.

prose-heavy, multi-verse, multi-ship, panfandom, & oc-friendly. written by bucku, 30+. engages with writers 21+ only. CARRD. ©

[osaetti]

he's staring at the empty space at his feet before he snaps to attention again, the thin line of his lips halfway between manufactured amusement and genuine thoughtfulness. now he's finally looking at the arrow, curiosity piqued. he slips his hands into the pockets of his pants, shrugging slightly in airy amusement.

❝ I don't believe the explanation would make you feel better. ❞

[awbro]

" so, then. " the wire creaks as it stretches, touching back to his cheek. clint doesn't loose it, not yet, just lets the periphery of his sight capture all the corners of the room, all the potential projectiles & cubbies to make his stand. " guess things are gonna get worse? "

the dizzying impossibility of spells & wizardry might elude a mortal hand, but clint's craftsmanship & tactical know-how have scraped him through more than a few slim spots.

" -------- gotta tell ya. i wasn't out here looking for a fight today. "

[zimwy]

' they all said, not going to hurt, then they hurt anyway. '

coarsely ushered sentence structure wheels toward slavic, yet the soldier responds to a deep-seated command shivering through their core: use english in america. off pries their grip, a careful doe-legged stagger relinquishing a modicum of their cattle fear alongside a full extrication of their compatriot, their.. what was he to them? shades of maladroit in comparison to the soldier's lethal nature, the ontological evil of a hybridized weapon. sweet. he was sweet.

a shower sounded.. nice. or, rather, the abstract sensory concept of scrubbing the potent notes of iodine and morphine and saline off sounded as relieving as food, water, and sleep. a tenuous exhale to stave sparking nerves and soothe reflexive panic, james gives, a silent succumbing to desire fostered deep. they hover awkwardly center-wise his living room, false arm capturing natal in a harmless cradle. a once over concludes:

' your.. um. your clothes won't fit me. '

[awbro]

CLINT KNOWS WHAT THIS IS. the digits crushing his shirt's fibers & choking its collar up under the hollow notch of his throat are no threat, but a desperate, self-preserving response to one. all hurt anyway. surrendering shock crumples his brow, his mouth, his entire expression collapsing into one of agonizing empathy.

" i'm not like them. " it lands while the soldier is huddling away, closing in, fetal coil, around himself. prey fright still blinks, inky-pupilled, tremulous, within those dark, adrenaline star bursts for eyes. undulating, tacky-throated, clint swallows around his own words & realizes that it is a promise in its heavy, permanent way of rolling out of him.

" you're safe here. "

clint stays, half-prizes up from within the slatted couch cushions quashed haphazard from the soldier's hair-trigger panic. one hand hovers, showing itself empty, protective ; no hunter looms to stalk in these quarters. " you worried i'm too tall? heck, i've got sweatpants with a drawstring & a shirt i shrunk in the wash. we can pick you up some stuff tomorrow. or whenever you're ready. "

[castlle]

@awbro asked: i thought i told you i had this under control.

"Stop your whining. I only shot the one guy." Frank grumbled, annoyed that Clint is complaining about this. "I only stepped in because the asshole wasn't human. Unless you got powers now then I'll shut up."

[awbro]

" no shooting to kill. " clint's voice lances, sharp as his arrow's point. it's a bold stroke to make with their backs pressed up against the proverbial & literal wall.

he isn't calling the shots, just making them.

" i'm not exactly searching for another showdown between the two of us tonight, frank. "

in quick succession, clint hauls the wire to whisper against his cheek & lets his an arrow fizz away, drawing another from the quiver before it finishes its path. " might wanna stick close. this one's a smoke bomb. "

[awbro]

happy birthday to my best friend & ride or die @sunlightreverie <3!

[evrikka]

boyd holbrook as kaden • two/one (2019)

[lefthooks]

two heroes raining down upon mischief, and what follows are the cheers of civilians in the street. fear fades. the sun brightens. if there were birds, they'd surely be chirpin'. peter tosses a glazed donut to hawkeye and waves at the spectators ( the now peaceful shoppers, business owners, folks walking their fluffy dogs with colorfully decorated collars ) before departing from the scene at the sound of the first siren. those wannabees are gonna get real cozy behind bars. a raised hand invites the other into celebration, an energetic high-five. “that was awesome. you held that shot for a while.” peter tugs up the bottom of his mask to bite a chunk out of his pastry. “i don't know how you do it! what's the longest you've held the string back for? that could be one of those challenges on survivor or something.”

[awbro]

CLINT WATCHES SPIDER-MAN'S MOUTH MOVE beneath the peel of his mask, cataloguing the words muffled by a pocketed bite of doughnut. *donut stuff* his brain helpfully supplies as he sinks his teeth into the glaze-crisped rind of his own. a pouting, powdery frown works one side of his lips. " aw, no bear claws? guess it is kinda late in the morning. " he thumbs at a fleck of frosting where it's clinging to his stubble-dappled cheek before meeting peter's hand in an open clap. then, mirroring his fellow avenger, clint gives a sheepish wave at the onlookers.

hey, someone shouts. is that iron fist?

it's easier to champ at another mouthful of doughnut rather than address the crowd. " y'know, if you wanna go down the list of my greatest hits, i think we could start at one of my favorite arrows. " clint unsheathes one, twirling the label to peter. " that one's a sonic boom. packs a wallop. "

[fifthimpact]

❛ leave her out of this one , hmm .... ❜ of course that's just a signal for ' its worse than i'm letting on ' if the first response is to just leave the smaller hawk out of it entirely. a beat on her end , followed suit by thumb and index pinching at the bridge of her nose while nostrils flare up thanks to the HUFF that comes after. and , JUST LIKE THAT , help is no longer offered ; SHE'S TAKING THE REIGNS ENTIRELY.

❛ clint barton and making a mess. glad to see things haven't changed too much without me around. ❜ cue a slightly amused snort as natasha's already roaming off towards his kitchen. ❛ you do realize that your messes usually end up being my messes , right ? [ .... ] do you seriously have no ice in the freezer again ? scale of one to ten , clint. how bad is it ? the problem , not your lip. ❜

[awbro]

" I FIGURED THAT WAS JUST PART OF ... us. " trust between the two of them is an unconditional thing, born of a beginning settled on the wrong side of right & wrong & given longevity over time by an enduring pattern built up by an unwavering shoulder when it comes time to lean. any rakishness that clint tries to weave into his lopsided grin is too thin, worn through by his already near admission that if things look bad, it's because ... they are bad.

he ambles over his collection of aches & pains in their various states of bloom to paw a hand into the freezer. unearthing a bag of frozen peas, triumphant, he holds it aloft. " who needs ice when you've got one of these puppies? "

he plunks the bag against his rotator cuff, massaging into it, mulling over her question. a shrug rolls into his answer shaded with non-committal non-confession. " been worse. remember that leaked deep fake? that was only like ... an 8 at worst. this is like ... half that bad. "

[arrowmade]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎HE USED TO THINK it was easier to brush this off. the shudder of someone actually complimenting him. as if this wasn't simply what he did, what he was made to do. archery was the same as breathing.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he hadn't been doing much breathing lately.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“ only if i won't get in trouble for splitting some arrows. ” roy shot him back a grin. false bravado, despite entirely knowing he could and would do exactly that. the act is natural, all part of the show that came with recovery. doubly so when aforementioned recovery felt so slow.

[awbro]

in spite of the meditative time spent shaping an arrow, there is seldom a stronger satisfaction that the sensation of watching a nock splice the feathering of the one in front of it. clint rolls a hollow-spined shaft between his palms, considering, before he shags a nod chin-first. sometimes that deep-won sense of fulfillment beats out the time commitment.

" no one's getting in trouble here. " like a baton passing, he offers out the arrow, fletching first.

a beat of consideration passes, spent studying the pockmarked set of targets staggered out in front of them on the opposite side of the room. " but ... y'know, there are some other bullseyes to hit. in case they catch your eye. "

" ------ we'll just steer clear of the trick arrows. "