out of my head

clint barton he/him/they/them circus performer

[clintbartonian]

LISTEN || c&d

dipper: alright magnet dude

dipper: explain the metaphor to me

dipper: and then i'll see if i can do it better than you because i guarantee that i can

clint: you're so unnessecarily mean to me

clint: yes i know i spelt unecessary wrong

clint: ask me if i care

clint: anyway

clint: it's

clint: i just wanna make ppl proud

clint: so

clint: i put things on the fridge of the afterlife

clint: in the hopes to make the parents of the afterlife proud

clint: you know?

[clintbartonian]

LISTEN || c&d

dipper: oh my god what

dipper: clint what the fuck

dipper: "on the fridge of afterlife"

dipper: either you didn't write that correctly or you just related the afterlife to a fridge. what the hell is that metaphor?

clint: dipper!

clint: sweet boy, apple of my eye, you have arrived

clint: uh okay so

clint: it's kinda a metaphor?

clint: meaning i typed it wrong

clint: but i wanna see how far i can get with this

[clintbartonian]

LISTEN || c&d

clint: ok so i know death is imminent and stuff but stick with me

clint: okay so

clint: what if

clint: i can put magnets

clint: on the fridge

clint: of afterlife

clint: dipper who's gonna sell me magnets in the afterlife

clint: dipper i know its 2am but i also know you're awake you absolute binch

clint: dipper please

[junszhou]

light up my vision || a&c

[clintbartonian]

rvolutionary‌:

adrien sits back on the couch as the credits roll and releases a breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding. at least the tightness in his chest finally makes a little bit of sense. after a long few seconds listening to the credit music, he turns his head sideways to look at his rom com companion.

“i think that’s the best one yet,” he says with a grin. // @clintbartonian

clint contemplates it for a moment before nodding, conceding some agreement before making a noise, recalling one that they had watched a couple of weeks ago. he moves his legs, which are resting in adrien’s lap, to tap against his friend’s hip, jostling the young man a little. he grins before he speaks, happy but little shit worthy. 

“this is how to loose a guy in 10 days erasure.” 

[clintbartonian]

hands like an ocean || c&d

this isn’t a good idea. this is the kind of thing that could get clint killed, could reach into his life and rip out the inner workings of it, could tear apart everything he’s built for a moment of joy. but, it’s the moment of joy that has him walking on this side of town, hat pulled down over his eyes and his suit well buttoned rather than his usual loose menagerie of clothing. it’s the bright brown eyes and the little hint of a smile that clint would like to pull into a true grin, it’s the laughter that he’s only ever heard from another room and the silent way that this boy could look at someone and seem to know everything. clint throws a pebble at the window he’s almost sure is dipper’s and waits, nearly holding his breath. 

“i’m here to see a man about a dance. you know anyone of that nature?” he asks as the window opens, looking up with an affection he can’t keep to himself. 

@pineweaver

[clintbartonian]

pineweaver‌:

With that, all of Dipper’s confidence drains out of him. There aren’t any words left in his head, rendering him utterly speechless. He wishes that he could grow flowers from his skin in order to display his feelings properly. He imagines white clovers sprouting down his arms, red roses and honeysuckle in his hair. He wants asters to grow out from his fingertips and primroses along his cheeks to replace his freckles.

He feels a pull in Clint’s direction and he can’t stop himself from drawing himself closer to the elf. He’s so near that he can just barely feel the other’s breath on his face. Dipper finally makes eye contact and can’t bring himself to regret it when he see’s just how open Clint’s gaze is. He drops his eyes down and whispers the only word he has left.

“Please?”

Clint breathes out one last time and everything in his head stops, a perfect picture of this one moment which he will never forget. He will never forget the feeling of Dipper’s skin so close he can feel the body heat of his blush radiating close. He will never forget the plants around them singing, just waiting, because they want Clint around just as much as Dipper does. He will never forget the moment before he presses his lips, ever so softly, gently and perfectly, to Dipper’s, something he’s wanted to do for both moments and for eternities. 

He sinks into the kiss and holds Dipper close. This is both the first of many and the end of an eternity, the beginning and end of many things of Clint’s life. He pulls Dipper close and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, until they’re both breathless and the plants in the room have calmed in their heinous vibrations. 

“There’s never any need to ask.” 

[clintbartonian]

pineweaver‌:

Dipper is an overthinker. He always has been, and he probably came out of the womb that way. So when Clint sits next to him and keeps his eyes steady on him, Dipper’s head goes into overdrive. Every gear in his poor head starts spinning at max speed and he can barely hear the thoughts with how fast they’re coming and going. He can’t quite meet Clint’s gaze so he opts for looking at their hand. Particularly the one they’re resting their chin on. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the pot of pansies on his desk vibrating. It’d be pretty comical if it weren’t for the present situation. 

He’s so taken aback by his thoughts and Clint calling him cute that he almost forgets how to speak.  “I’m not really doing anything today? It’s a free day so I just thought I’d have a lazy day in. Sit with my plants.” Despite his racing mind, he talks slowly. He considers every word until he’s sure it’s the right one. The elf is so distracting, even though all they’re doing is looking at him. But it feels like a spotlight shining upon him and Dipper has never been one for speaking on stage. This isn’t a stage, though. This is merely a moment in which he is overwhelmed and he takes a deep breath. He hopes that just this once, he can get away with going off script. “You coming over is definitely making this day better, in my opinion.” He shares with a coy smile.

All of the plants are vibrating and all Clint can do is smile his most pleased smile and hold himself back from grabbing Dipper by the back of the neck and pulling him into an action that would make all of the plants in this room shake out of their pots. He wants to hold Dipper’s hands and make him blush with pretty words, to hear him sing and to perhaps sing along, he wants to press elvish magic into Dipper’s ever growing energy pools and help him expand outward into the whole forest. He has felt ageless pine trees with less energy than Dipper has in his hands alone - Clint may fixate slightly on Dipper’s hands. He has nice hands. 

There’s an uptick in Clint’s smile as he realises that Dipper is having trouble with the compliment. He has a brief struggle of his own with Dipper’s own compliment; he has never been the best at knowing when another person enjoys his company, and the fact that Dipper confirms it strokes the parts of Clint that tells him he is not worth the time of the other. “Well, coming over makes my day better too. There’s nobody I’d rather spend it with,” Clint says, his smile taking over his entire face as he leans just a bit closer to Dipper. He just can’t really stop himself from taking as much of Dipper’s space as the boy will let him. 

[clintbartonian]

pineweaver‌:

He swears this elf is going to be the death of him, he thinks to himself as he listens to Clint baby talk his plants. They’re almost like an extension of Dipper with how much of his magic he has put into each and every one, so he can feel Clint’s words in the form of a shiver down his back that he’s sure he poorly conceals.  Normally, he would be able to look the elf in the eyes, but now that he knows that they heard him singing, he’s feeling vulnerable and can’t bring himself to do it.

“T-th-thank you,” Dipper stammers. “I guess you can. I’m just surprised that you didn’t give me any warning, you know? N-not that I mind or anything! Just, let me know next time you want to come over?” His eyes slowly fall to stare down at the wooden floor beneath him as he gives a half-hearted shrug and twiddles his fingers. He enjoys Clint’s company, even goes so far as to crave it sometimes. He knows there are nights where he sits on his bed and wishes that he could feel their body heat next to him, but he feels embarrassed just thinking about it. He can feel the leaves of his gardenia flower on the windowsill swaying in time with his thoughts and his face burns as he curls in on himself a little more.

Clint sees Dipper shiver and forces down a grin almost predatory in nature, loving the reaction he can goad from the magic user with almost no effort at all. The stammering and the shivering and all the reactionism that he can pull from Dipper makes Clint feel like he’s on top of the world, sitting pretty with a pretty boy by his side. The plants are all so in tune with Dipper’s reactions, and Clint wonders what’s on his mind (wonders if he’s thinking about all the things that Clint thinks about, wonders if he’s thinking about the two of them, wonders if he’s thinking about hands and lips and - he wonders). 

“Whatcha up to, today, Dippin’ Sauce? Taking over the world by sheer power of cuteness?” Clint teases, looking up at Dipper through his lashes from his seat on the floor. He sets his chin on his palm, his elbow resting on his knee as he relaxes into looking at Dipper. He doesn’t care if Dipper knows that he stares, because Clint just loves to look at him. If that’s something that Dipper wants him to stop doing, sure, he will, but he doesn’t really have to worry about that. He’s certainly not sure that Dipper would want him to stop anyway. 

[clintbartonian]

pineweaver‌: 

Dipper’s face goes bright red as he takes in Clint’s presence. Watching the elf interact with his plants makes his stomach fill up with butterflies. Except the butterflies are really hyper for some reason so they keep trying to fly out of his stomach. But the butterflies are supposed to stay inside his stomach? That’s the what the whole metaphor is, the fluttery feeling, but apparently not for him because these butterflies are trying to fly up through his throat and out of his mouth but they don’t quite succeed in getting him to speak because all he manages to spit out is, “Oh, uh, well…” 

He has to take a deep breath in to calm himself before he’s able to form a coherent response. “It’s just a song from a band I like. It’s nothing much.” He waves his hand and the ring on his finger glows white as his guitar lifts into the air and lands on his bed. Dipper doesn’t dislike having Clint over, it’s just that it’s kind of rare for them to show up unannounced like this. He isn’t complaining, per say, but he is a little bit curious. “Why are you here?”

He likes the way that Dipper looks at him when he thinks that Clint isn’t looking, though the elf doesn’t comment; he doesn’t think that Dipper would take it well. Though, he wishes he could say something. Dipper is the most extraordinary person he has ever met, of any species, of any creature he’s met in all his years of life. Instead, Clint plays the game of walking around each other, dancing, because he never wants to chase Dipper away, never wants to scare him, never wants to overwhelm him. He’d protect his friend from himself if it meant that Clint could keep him around.

“You’re a good singer, Dip,” Clint says, flashing a grin at the boy as he strolled further into the room. He greets another plant with further petting, laughing as it tries to anchor him by wrapping around his entire wrist. "Hey buddy! Hey little guy, oh hi, buddy, you're doing so well! It’s so good to see you! You're bigger than last time, Dipper has been real good to you, hasn't he? Hey little guy,” he babbles at the plant, loosening it with affection so it’ll let him go. As he detaches himself, he grins over at Dipper before sitting in the floor by Dip’s bed, within reach of another plant. “Can’t I just wanna see ya?” 

[clintbartonian]

pineweaver‌:

“When it’s in your spine like you’ve walked for miles,” Dipper sings to himself and his room full of plants. Sunlight pours through the open window and covers the whole room. He’s in a black tank top, the sun hitting his bare arms and sending warmth throughout his entire body. “And the only thing you want is just to be still for a while,” he strums his guitar, playing the whole song by memory. His eyes are closed, but if they were open he’d be able to see all of his plants swaying to the sound of the music.

As he ends the song he takes a deep breath in, pushing fresh air into his lungs as he calms himself. He opens his eyes, only to catch movement out of the corner of his vision that isn’t his plants. He spins around to see Clint standing in his doorway, looking right at him, making Dipper startle. “When’d you get here?” // @clintbartonian

Clint grins as he watches Dipper play for his plants, loose and happy, because this is a boy who loves the world as much as any elf does. Despite how his brother chides him for coming here, for trusting a mageling and his sister, Clint loves coming her more than any time he spends with his own kind. They’re a bunch of snobs who have never approved of the way Clint likes to see everyone and everything as equal to himself, but Dipper gets him. He’s leaning casually against the door frame with a soft smile by the time Dipper notices him standing there. 

“About six minutes ago. Whatcha singin’, mageling?” Clint asks, reaching up with one hand to play with one of the Philodendron pothos hanging by Dipper’s door. He pets it with his finger tips as it weaves its way between them, crawling up his hand to greet him. 

[clintbartonian]

pineweaver‌:

“all that and a bag of chips indeed,” dipper agrees, looking down as he picks at his nails, being careful to avoid spilling the coffee in his other hand. he perks up at the mention of his writing.

“okay, so my latest idea is based on a fantasy world, yeah?” he starts, a huge smile forming on his face, revealing his white teeth. “and in this world, some woman can cast magic by playing instruments. so the plot is that there’s a princess who’s been kept in this tower in the woods for around eleven years and shes’s kept in there with magic. it’s basically a retelling of that really old fairytale, rapunzel.” he sips his coffee, surprised that its below half empty already. “there’s this girl who actually lives in the woods and stumbles upon the tower, and gets to know the princess. as you may have already guessed, they’re lesbians.” he said in a ‘well, duh’ kind of voice, letting out a laugh.

lesbians, in clint's humble opinion, make any hetero story a thousand times better, seeing as just any hetero story could have been written by just any hetero; he trusts dipper with a queer story. queer stories are also a thousand times better in general, but he's definitely not biased in any way. queer rapunzel sounds bitchin, as well as he remembers being told the story of rapunzel in a time before his dad took him out of school. it isn't a very clear memory, but anything is better gay.

"that sounds awesome," he says, taking a big gulp of his drink and struggling not to choke while swallowing, because he's an actual human disaster. he just barely manages it, clearing his throat after he recovers. aw, coffee, no.

"there's no chance of ever making you think i'm cool, huh?" he asks rhetorically, smearing his free hand down his face in an extended form of a face palm.

[clintbartonian]

little red || clint&ruby

Ruby: That's kinda mean...

Ruby: Was he being a jerk about the water?

Clint: nah carson's just a jerk

Clint: he's been my boss for twenty years

Clint: i can be mean to him if i want lmao

[clintbartonian]

concerned || dipper & clint

dipper: thanks i hate it

dipper: did you just make an archery pun

dipper: and i don't love being in danger

dipper: i just love learning about new things that could be dangerous

clint: maybe so

clint: also sure jan

clint: SURE

clint: "i don't love being in danger"

clint: S U R E J A N

[clintbartonian]

little red || clint&ruby

Ruby: I hate it when that happens. Ironwoods got a stick up his butt for that too

Ruby: heh

Ruby: Did you try telling your boss you cant swim this time?

Clint: I just said "fuck you carson" and that got me out of shit so

Clint: carson can kiss my ass for today

Clint: i'm tired and it's wet

[clintbartonian]

concerned || dipper & clint

dipper: dude

dipper: gross

dipper: never mind i don't want to see your face ever again

clint: you love my face shut up

clint: also

clint: kinkshaming you for loving being in danger is just

clint: too easy of a shot tbh

[clintbartonian]

little red || clint&ruby

clint: okay so the excuses route did not fly w my boss last week

clint: but now

clint: have the circus is underwater

clint: so at least there's that?

[clintbartonian]

concerned || dipper & clint

dipper: that sounds ominous

dipper: and untrustworthy

dipper: you know how much i love ominous and untrustworthy situations

dipper: it's a date

dipper: a playdate

clint: that sounds like something i should kinkshame you for tbh

clint: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

clint: should i 🤔🤔🤔