okay, this looks bad.

"Hydra? Did you see that move? They don't teach moves like that in Hydra school, pal! You picked the w r o n g team! Hail Hawkeye!" Clint Barton. Arrow Guy. Strictly the bow and arrow type. Avenger. "If I miss, it means I'm just a n o t h e r dude with a bow. It means I've been fooling myself this whole time. And that's why I never miss." Say somethin', willya?

[hawkguyed]

russianwidcw‌:

(✉ → герой): I never thought that you would. (✉ → герой): Probably not, but you’re not excited without reason. (✉ → герой): What other ones do you know? (✉ → герой): I hope you’re right about that. What’s your favourite theoretical reason to make Tony cry? (✉ → герой): Most likely, but I don’t think I care.

(✉ → my hero): good (✉ → my hero): no, i have a very good reason. a very, very good one. (✉ → my hero): 👀😂✌🍕 pretty good, right? (✉ → my hero): hiding in his ceiling and making weird noises. also, fucking in his closet! how about you? (✉ → my hero): yeah, okay. i’m in, robots or no robots.

[hawkguyed]

queenofchcos‌:

(✉ → Hawkeye ❤️): Clint, I need you to know something. (✉ → Hawkeye ❤️): I would never ever share Johnny with anyone. So I can’t be having sex with six people right now! (✉ → Hawkeye ❤️): We’re going to watch Mamma Mia.

(✉ → sabrina): okay (✉ → sabrina): i feel like i didn’t need to know that, but i am glad you’re not having sex with six people! (✉ → sabrina): the new one?

[hawkguyed]

agcntthirtecn‌:

@hawkguyed

When SHIELD went into the Potomac, Sharon figured it was the end of an era. SHIELD had been infiltrated by its worst enemies, and not only in the months before its collapse, but from its inception. Peggy, Howard, Fury, Hill, they had all missed it, and Sharon had missed it as well. They all prided themselves on being the best in the business, on being spies that would never leave a stone unturned, but when it came to putting that perception to good use among their own ranks they had hesitated. If you told Sharon then that Sharon now was the Director of SHIELD, she probably would’ve socked you in the jaw. She had changed in the years since the incident at the Potomac, she had grown and developed, and she liked to think that she had healed as well.

“I was beginning to wonder if I was being stood up,” Sharon said with a grin, stepping up to greet Clint with a hug when he walked into the bar. “Admittedly, I didn’t remember what time we agreed on, so I’ve been here since five. They have decent beer, Clint, and it’s been a long week.” She sat back down on the barstool, holding up her hand to call for another drink for her friend. Clint had been one of the agents that Sharon had bonded with almost immediately, they were similar in many ways, and that had continued regardless of the various incidents that had happened in the meantime. “Tell me something fun or interesting,” she said. “Paperwork is the devil, and boredom is the enemy. If I don’t get something to perk me up before the weekend I’ll have to start a bar fight or something. It’s been a while.” Had the last time been Dubai, or Monte Carlo? Sharon couldn’t recall!

As Hawkeye, Clint’s entire identity was based around the fact that he never missed. It didn’t just apply to physical aim, either; he’d always had an eye for detail, always had the ability to figure things out. He might be far from a genius --- until Coulson got a hold of him, he was barely even literate --- but he was good at figuring shit out. Until, of course, he wasn’t. He hadn’t realized SHIELD was HYDRA until the agent he was with put a bullet between his ribs, hadn’t realized he’d been duped until he was bleeding out into the grass. For a guy who never missed, Clint had missed every single sign that might have popped up. It was embarrassing and painful and awful. Selfishly, he was comforted by the fact that at least he hadn’t been the only one fooled. Even some of the best spies he knew, people like Sharon, who were smarter than anyone ever gave them credit for, hadn’t caught on until it was too late. There was some sort of feeling of unification in that.

“I can’t imagine anybody’d stand you up, Sharon,” he replied, leaning into the hug easily. “Uh, I don’t know what time we said, either. I was hoping you’d call me if I was real late.” He nodded to the bartender, flashing a grin. Sharon was right; it had been a long week. A beer would probably do him some good, if he was being honest. A beer with Sharon would do him even better. He’d always gotten along well with her, similar personalities and senses of humor meshing together easily. “I saw Pietro trip over a cat last week,” he offered. “He didn’t think anybody was watching, but I was. It was hilarious.” He didn’t have a ton of fun, interesting stories, but the ones he did have were all embarrassing to other people. Clint was a simple man of simple tastes.

[hawkguyed]

queenofchcos‌:

With the fear toxin in play, Wanda couldn’t blame Clint for his dramatics. He had never liked bugs, that much was clear from the missions they had embarked on, but it was a passive fear. With his system heightened, terrified by what was happening around them, Wanda could understand why he was paranoid about the centipede in his apartment. If Wanda could help Clint handle it, she was happy to do so, although bugs were not exactly something that she loved. Throughout the years spent camping (a very glamorous term applied to homelessness), Wanda had adjusted.

“Don’t apologize,” she replied, waving off Clint’s words. It was unfortunate that he had terrified her, but again, she understood why Clint was more on edge than usual. “You’re good?” She challenged, raising her eyebrows, already knowing it a complete and utter lie. Clint looked like he hadn’t slept in days, he was pale and drawn, and Wanda hated the fact that she couldn’t bend reality to make him immune as she had for himself. Not only was Clint wary of magic to begin with, but he would hate himself if he saw the harm bending reality currently did to her. “I’m sure it’s dog-sized,” she replied, snorting. “You should never visit the rainforest, Clint.” He most likely had on his travels with SHIELD, but they weren’t discussing their respective sketchy histories at the moment. “Well, it is what I’m most suited for,” Wanda pointed out. She thought her question was reasonable! “I thought it was dog-sized. How could I put the centipede into a cup?“

With the life he’d lead, many people were shocked by Clint’s aversion to bugs. After all, he’d grown up sleeping in circus tents, where there was no real way to keep insects at bay. Unfortunately, fear wasn’t a rational thing. Being around insects often didn’t make them freak Clint out any less, and with the fear toxin intensifying every slight startle into absolute terror, he absolutely didn’t want to deal with one now. Having a heart attack because there was a centipede in his living room would be a seriously embarrassing way to die. Tony would probably bring him back to life just to make fun of him for it, and that was the last thing Clint wanted. Calling Wanda was clearly his best bet here.

He offered her a sheepish smile, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m good,” he repeated unconvincingly. No one was good with this toxin tearing its way through the city, but Clint figured he was as good as he could be. At the moment, the only terrifying thing in his apartment was a centipede. That was probably as good as he’d been in days. “It’s totally dog sized. You’ll see, you’re gonna eat your words. I’ve been to the rainforest, y’know.” He’d been shot in three separate rainforests across the globe, and he’d been to others where he hadn’t been shot at all! It was a hell of an accomplishment. “You’re suited for all kinds of things. Mostly I called you for your ability to carry the bug outside and not make fun of me. You’re my only hope here!” Anyone else would tear him apart with jokes. “Uh... shrink rays?”

[hawkguyed]

manwlthoutfear‌:

It seemed kind of inevitable that people who ended up with super-powers would become super-heroes, or at least that was what the media seemed to push forward. Matt knew differently, though. He knew it from his childhood growing up on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen and later in the orphanage, and he knew it from years of experience in the legal field, fighting for those that most people would be more than willing to completely ignore and overlook if they could at all. Mutants, inhumans, enhanced individuals of all kinds, they were just like anyone else. There were heroes amongst them, there were villains amongst them, and there were normal people like Foggy who just wanted a goddamn break. It wasn’t Matt’s senses that had turned him into whatever he was now (he had started out calling himself a vigilante, but now, hero seemed to be something he was striving for more and more, never one to be a half measure, as Frank had so eloquently put) it was his determination, it was his drive, and it was Stick, mostly. For all of the complications in his life, Matt knew that man had been instrumental in helping to form Daredevil, and showing Matt who he really was.

There was a part of Matt that wondered whether every hero around him had a Stick in their lives. Peter never mentioned a mentor, he seemed to learn entirely from his own experiences, but Daisy had the other agents at SHIELD. Clint seemed far too competent to have only picked it up as a hobby or when he was an adult, but Matt could never be sure. Sometimes, appearances were deceptive. “Wow. You are definitely the first person to tell me that,” Matt deadpanned, vividly reminded of Claire. “Halfway is for those who can’t reach the finish line, anyway.” If you were going to make a bad choice, might as well milk it for all the angst it was worth, that was Matt’s motto! “Changed up your brand? I don’t even need to listen to your heart to know you genuinely believe that you have that level of infamy.” Of course there had been that trick or treater dressed as Hawkeye last year, but Matt was damned if he was mentioning it. “Is that how many of you there are now? God, I missed a few along the way.” The team did seem to be growing substantially, what could he say? “Nobody is ever on our side,” Matt said with a groan. In the distance, true to form, he heard sirens begin to blare. “Not even them.” Matt reached out, grabbing one of the guys by the back of his neck. The guy squirmed, and Matt hit a nerve that had him immediately flopping in his grip. “Do we need intel on who sent them here, or are they just opportunists? You’re the expert.” Was that offensive? Probably.

Though he was among heroes now, Clint had spent most of his life uncertain that they actually existed. Like most kids, he’d been a fan of Captain America at one point, but the infatuation had faded as he grew older. It was hard for a kid who grew up like he had to believe wholeheartedly in heroes. Surely if they were out there, one of them would have done something about his situation? Surely they would have shown up to rescue him and Barney from their father’s brutality, to save them from foster parents and orphanages. By the time he began working with the circus, Clint was positive that heroes didn’t exist. At that point, it was something of a relief to consider them fictional. Back then, he’d figured that any heroes who were out there would be against him rather than for him, and he’d been fine avoiding the complication. 

Of course, he’d been wrong. Heroes were incredibly real. Clint was on a team with Captain America now, had movie nights with Iron Man, got lunch with Daredevil. It was weird, but it worked. “Hey, I hear it a lot too,” he shrugged. “Wow, that was beautiful. Did you come up with that on the spot? We should put it on t-shirts.” If Matt could do dry, Clint could do it right back! Take that, Daredevil! “Hey, I got lots of infamy! I got a sidekick who named herself after me. Do you have that? I don’t think so!” He silently apologized to Kate for referring to her as a sidekick, even if she would never actually find out. She’d kill him if she did. “I’m honestly not sure,” he admitted with a shrug. It was probably saying something that even the guy who was actually on the Avengers team didn’t remember how many Avengers there were, but it couldn’t be helped. The team was always growing! Wincing as the sound of sirens hit him, Clint made a face. “Uh, I’d say they’re just regular assholes.” He really didn’t know, but he didn’t love the idea of sticking around and waiting for the cops. “Wanna split?”

[hawkguyed]

manwlthoutfear‌:

There was an old saying that bravery didn’t come from lack of fear. Bravery came from being afraid and doing whatever the fuck you were going to do anyway. Matt liked that saying. The Man Without Fear was a neat marketing ploy, something to get criminals shaking in their boots even before he got them pushed up against a wall and made them bleed from their mouth, desperate to tell him exactly what he wanted to know. After all, there were few things more terrifying than a human who defied human instinct, human emotion, and that was exactly what the Devil represented. As far as Matt was capable he didn’t allow the city to see him wounded, or bleeding out on the street. After his battle with Fisk he had disappeared to lick his wounds far away, and when he took on the Hand, he ensured that Daredevil vanished so that he could heal. The Devil needed to seem indestructible, otherwise he would be destroyed in a nano-second by the multitude of gangs that were out for his blood at any given time.

This fear toxin was seriously undermining his entire operation, his entire reputation, and that wasn’t something he was going to settle for. Luckily he didn’t have to look far to find support - Peter was there for him as always, and he found himself opening up, defying the habits of a lifetime - or to find someone else who was willing to run away from everything with him. Sure, Clint was a little less appealing than some of his other options for distractions, but here they were. Driving a car. Specifically, Matt was driving a car. “Doubts? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Matt sing-songed, wincing only minutely as he crashed right into a post box, sending letters flying over the street. “Safety is our number one concern!” he announced to the public, who were currently screaming in fear, probably because Matt was being a little manic with the wheel while his radar re-adjusted. “My blinker? What’s that? You do it!” It seemed like a sighted thing. “A putty arrow? Um … sure, dude, whatever.” Matt leaned over for a minute, keeping the wheel steady with his billy club, and grabbed the first arrow that came to hand from the floor of the car. “Here! It’s, uh, definitely a putty.”

Though fear had been encouraged during shows, Clint’s circus family hadn’t wanted any of it behind the scenes. Fear was only useful when it was being experienced by someone else. If the audience was afraid, you got word of mouth bringing more people to the stands. If the performers were afraid, they froze. It was the same when they were living up to the “of Crime” portion of the Circus of Crime title. They wanted their victims to be terrified, wanted the people they were robbing to think they might die at any moment, but they didn’t want the people doing the robbing to be afraid. Clint had always been worse with fear there than he was during a show. He always trusted Jacques not to slip and toss a knife into his eye, always trusted his own aim not to accidentally shoot whoever was standing next to his target, but that trust didn’t quite extend to innocent bystanders. Clint was always terrified that one of his mentors was going to kill one of their victims, either accidentally or to make a point. It had taken him a long time to feel comfortable going out on jobs with them, longer still for his heart not to pound the whole time they were there. He did a decent job at keeping it to himself, but he was sure Trickshot and the Swordsman had known.

The fear toxin seemed to prey on that fear that had always been inside him, intensifying it mercilessly. Clint knew he wasn’t alone --- Natasha, Kate, and Tony had all been there for him --- but sometimes, he just wanted to avoid it. Matt was a good person to go to for that. Unfortunately, that avoidance often lead to him doing dumb things, like agreeing to let a blind man drive him around town. Life always had a fair amount of give and take, he guessed. “Uh, I think my doubts are fair. I’ve got some guy’s water bill sticking out of my hair here!” He plucked the envelope out, making a face as he tossed it back towards the house in question. The paper guided smoothly to its destination and landed on top of the demolished mailbox. Clint’s aim had never been in question for a reason! “Man, the Bugle is gonna tear us apart,” Clint sighed mournfully, shaking his head. The headlines were bound to be merciless. Matt’s driving reputation was gonna take one hell of a hit! “I can’t reach it! What, you want me to sit in your lap here?” It made sense that a blind guy didn’t know how to use a blinker, he guessed. It didn’t make sense that a blind guy knew how to drive a car even slightly, but Clint figured he was better off not questioning that one. Grabbing the arrow without looking, Clint fired it towards their pursuers and winced when, instead of releasing putty that would have secured the gangsters’ car to the ground, the arrowhead exploded. “I... probably should’a grabbed my own arrow,” he said sheepishly, squinting through the smoke. He’d been aiming for the tires, meant the resulting explosion flipped the car over onto its roof. “We should probably go check on them, huh?” Daredevil was a no-kill guy, after all.

[hawkguyed]

goquicksilvcr‌:

None of the Avengers, at the end of the day, were entirely innocent. Stark had been a weapons manufacturer, capitalising off the deaths of thousands, Banner had destroyed cities, Thor had killed thousands of creatures over thousands of years, even the Captain had led his troops into the bloodiest war of the last century. Clint was no exception to that, but there was something different about him that made Pietro trust him a little more than most. Maybe it was just the fact that they jibed each other every time they were in the same room and that presence made them more receptive to each other’s company. Maybe it was just because he was less intimidating than Steve Rogers to go up and talk to. Either way, Pietro was glad of Clint in his life, though he doubted he would ever be able to say that without throwing up.

The fact that Clint had been so supportive of his sister was only another point in his favour, and one that overwhelmingly brought Pietro over to his cause. As far as he was concerned Wanda deserved all the love in the world, and he knew now that he was not sufficient to meet that quota. She needed more people, and Clint was a good part of that. “And miss out on the look on your face when I do? Never.” Clint was very expressive, it wasn’t Pietro’s fault that pissing him off was so damn entertaining! “You can only shoot whatever’s standing still, and I never am. See? I just went to Cabo. See again? Berlin!” He was totally bullshitting, but he could do it, and that was the point! “That’s even more stupid,” Pietro said, furrowing his eyebrows. “I never said I didn’t like it,” Pietro began defensively. Then he realised Clint was being sarcastic, and he shrugged, but there was no heart in it. “Yeah, okay. I’m not having a great time. Is there any chance you guys keep secret tags on dear old dad that I don’t know about?”

Back in SHIELD, Clint had something of a reputation for pickup up strays. He’d done a lot of killing with the circus, done even more when he broke off on his own, and sometimes... sometimes, he just wanted to save someone. Sometimes, he’d have someone in his scope with Coulson’s voice in his ear ordering him to pull the trigger, and he’d find his finger uncooperative against the metal. He told himself that if he could save just one person, if he could give a single person the same second choice he’d been awarded, it’ll all be worth it. It probably shouldn’t have surprised anyone when he offered that chance to Pietro. Sure, the kid was annoying, but Clint had been positive that he meant well. He’d been sure that he was trying his best, sure that he was only misguided and not actually bad. He’d taken a gamble, and it’d paid off. There’d been roadbumps along the way --- Pietro taking a slew of bullets meant for Clint was a notable one --- but the kid was a hero now. That was all that mattered.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten any less annoying after his switch over to the light side. Some things never changed, apparently. It was tragic, but Clint could live with it. He’d gotten used to annoying over the years! “I don’t --- I don’t do anything with my face.” It was a lie and he knew it. His face was the ultimate traitor, showing people what was going on in his head long before he could stop it. “I’m a resourceful guy. I’ll find a way.” Despite the words, there was a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “You didn’t bring me any souvenirs? I’m kicking you out, man.” He was pretty sure Pietro hadn’t actually traveled the world without moving, but still. “The door’s never done much to stop bad guys, anyways,” he replied with a shrug. They only ever kicked it down, and that just made a mess. Rolling his eyes, he couldn’t stop the smile from coming out in full force. “Sarcasm, buddy,” he provided. The smile faded as Pietro continued. Clint hated to see the guy distressed, despite his ribbing. “Us guys? I don’t really keep tabs on anybody. Tony might, though.” Tony kept tabs on just about everyone, Clint was pretty sure. He had Skynet right there in his Tower to help him out!

[hawkguyed]

ircnicarus‌:

In boarding school, a lot of the other kids were only children too. When you were rich and successful, there was only so much time you could dedicate to raising a family, but most of the families Tony knew wanted an heir to take over the family business, someone they could mould from the very outset to carry on their legacy. Tony was one of the few who actively wanted a sibling. Perhaps it was a selfish desire considering how tumultuous his house was, but having someone else to go through it with him seemed pretty enticing when he was in his room alone for the fifth day in a row, hiding away from the arguments and the yelling and everything else that came with being home for Christmas.

Things changed when he was in the cave. Initially, Tony had appreciated having Yinsen around. The doctor’s presence had inspired him, his assistance had made the suit possible, and it had prevented Tony from losing his mind. When Yinsen died, though, Tony realised that he never wanted to be responsible for that again. He never wanted to put someone else in danger, never wanted them to suffer in order to help him, because he didn’t deserve that. His teammates were different, they were fighting because they wanted to be there, but the people in his personal life who loved him, who fought for him, that was something else entirely.

It was yet another fear to add to a long list that would only continue to grow as he fought back against aliens and robot swarms and ex-boyfriends. Tony knew bravery didn’t come from being unafraid but from facing his fears, but that didn’t mean it was easy to admit to the fact that most of the time he was terrified. One of the few who understood that was Clint, another human on a team of superhumans, who knew every mission could be his last. “Mine too,” Tony admitted. “Kind of want to put the moustache right off his face. What made him think that looked good?” Jokes didn’t exactly land as easily with the fear toxin running through his veins, but he was damned if he wasn’t trying. “Damn. I was really going for comforting. Guess I’ll have to stick to offering support and encouragement instead.” Tony reached out, squeezing Clint’s shoulder for a brief moment. “Hey, we’ve got this,” he corrected gently. “You know, as many times in my life as I’ve wanted to do just that, I kind of want you to stick around right about now. Selfish, huh? Maybe I should be the one getting knocked out instead.”

When they were kids, after their parents died and before they’d found the circus, Clint and his brother had been lost pretty much constantly. They jumped from foster home to foster home and, usually, each was worse than the last. Still, Clint had preferred them to the orphanages. In a foster home, you got to be an individual. Even when you were being mistreated or yelled at, you got to be your own person. In the orphanages, there was none of that. There were far too many lost children for any individualism, and when the lights went out at night, it was often hard to distinguish your own sniffles from those of the kids around you. Clint had always hated that, always found himself crawling out of his own bed and into Barney’s, desperate for anything that reminded him that he was a person. 

One night, curled against his brother and trying not to let his breath hitch, Clint had admitted that he was afraid. He hadn’t been sure what sort of response to expect. Barney was complicated even back then, never giving any outward sign as to what he was feeling. Clint never knew if his brother was going to respond to him with anger or comfort. That night, he’d gotten lucky. Barney had stiffened for a moment before putting his hand on Clint’s head, the same way he used to after their dad beat one of them a little too hard. Everybody gets scared sometimes, he’d said quietly. You just gotta get through it. Do something about it. Like every piece of advice Barney gave him, Clint had taken it to heart. When he got scared, he faced down whatever was terrifying him.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done in this situation. There was nothing physical for him to face here, nothing for him to do. He couldn’t fight people who weren’t there, couldn’t save people who’d died years ago. He couldn’t even face the fears, not really. Even if he did, they wouldn’t go away. The fear toxin was going to keep drawing them out, keep pulling him in over and over and over again. He laughed as Tony spoke, though the sound was far more hollow than his typical humor. “Be nice, wouldn’t it? I wish I could just... at least give him a piece of my damn mind, you know?” Wouldn’t it be something to scream at him? Wouldn’t it be nice let his old man know that Clint was a hero now? It’d be rewarding to throw that back in his face, to point out that Clint had been saving the goddamn world while Harold had been rotting somewhere under it. “Really? That’s your idea of a comfort? No offense, buddy, but you’re bad at this.” At least the poor attempt at humor made for a fun distraction! Glancing up at the hand on his shoulder, Clint tried to offer Tony a smile. He wasn’t sure how successful he was, but it was the thought that counted. “Sure,” he agreed, wishing he could say it with a little more certainty. “Ugh, you can’t even punch me one time? I thought we were friends.” His voice was a hair lighter now, which took some effort. “I asked first, buddy. I got dibs on getting punched.” 

[hawkguyed]

ircnicarus‌:

“That is absolutely false,” Tony said, but he couldn’t keep a straight face for long. Sighing, he shrugged and said, “Yeah, okay, maybe I’d bang him if I was given the chance. You can’t tell me the whole elastic thing doesn’t intrigue you too!” If there was someone on this earth who knew more about Tony’s strange attractions than anyone else, it would be Clint (or Pepper. Pepper knew everything, to her benefit or distress). “To be honest, I’ve never really paid attention to the vibes coming off Doom when he’s trying to murder people. Maybe I should watch the tapes back again. You free tonight? We could order in.” Pizza and a takeaway in one day was something his cardiologist would not appreciate, but it was good for the heart in a metaphorical sense. “Too late. It’s not even the worst thing we’ve talked about.” That went to some frankly disturbing conversations about Doc Ock. “I’m kicking him because he made me work up a sweat fighting sonic quacks!” What a dick, really.

The cops appeared before long, and Tony stepped forward, feeling significantly like how moms were depicted in sitcoms. “Hey there, Officer. As you can see, we have this completely settled, and Duck Man is out of commission from this point on.” The cop, though, didn’t look entirely grateful. He walked past Tony and leaned down beside the Duck, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, man, you okay?” he asked. “No!” Duck Dude argued. “These two whackjobs just attacked me for no reason! All I was doing was cosplaying!”

Tony let out a splutter, lifting up the mask to look at the cop. “Are you serious?” Tony asked, gesturing to the man. “He came at us with sonic quacks! He tried to blow us up with rubber duck bombs!” The cop and the Duck looked at Tony with expressions of total and utter disgust. “I can’t believe a superhero would lie about me, brother,” the Duck muttered, under his breath but loud enough for Tony to hear.

Tony stepped back, holding up his hands. “Hold up a second,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Brother?”

Clint leveled Tony with a look and, unsurprisingly, it only took like two seconds for the guy to break. Granted, that was probably less to do with Clint’s look and more to do with Tony having absolutely no sense of privacy, but Clint was gonna let himself feel accomplished regardless. “I mean, I wouldn’t be against it, but there’d probably be a little too much science talk for me. That guy strikes me as the type to talk about chemicals in bed. Total turn off.” It would probably be a turn on for Tony, which was a fact that Clint hated that he knew. “Dude, I’m always on the look out for vibes. I mean, I guess we can’t all be as observant as me, though.” His whole deal was seeing everything that was going on in any given situation, after all! 

Shrugging a shoulder, he replied, “Yeah, okay, I’m in.” It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, and watching Doom’s drama with Tony was bound to be hilarious. “I know. I hate that!” They’d definitely talked about worse, mostly because Clint didn’t know how to shut his mouth. “You could use the exercise, man. I didn’t wanna say anything, but you’re lookin’ a little round there...” That was, unfortunately, a total lie. Tony always looked pretty good. It wasn’t right! The guy was a billionaire, the least he could do was be a little chubby or something.

Most of the time when the cops showed up, Clint responded by getting the hell out of dodge. It was nothing personal, but he’d had a few less than great experiences with police officers, even after he’d tacked ‘Avenger’ to the end of his name. Today, he stayed put against his better judgement. Surely the cops wouldn’t arrest Iron Man, even if they didn’t recognize his buddy as Hawkeye. He rolled his eyes as Trevor went all ‘innocent victim,’ huffing lightly. “Dude, that is not a good look on you,” he commented.

But then, of course, things got complicated. Clint should’ve seen it coming, really. Why wouldn’t the cop who arrived at the scene be the brother of the villain they’d just taken down? Why had Clint let himself believe his luck would ever allow for anything else? Eyebrows shooting up, he turned to look at Tony. “Uh, I don’t wanna assume anything here, but I think this is the part where we high tail it outta here. You wanna split?”

[hawkguyed]

✪ natasha

[ ✪ ] clint & natasha are stuck in an elevator together.

Honestly, they probably should’ve seen this one coming. The building they were scoping out was old and rickety, the sort of place where it was kind of a miracle it was still standing at all, and it probably went without saying that the elevator wasn’t too reliable. But Clint had cracked a couple of ribs a week ago and, after a significant amount of whining, convinced Natasha to get in it with him anyways rather than taking the stairs up eight floors to where they needed to be. It was probably karma when the thing died halfway between floors four and five.

For a moment, they stood there in silence. Clint could feel Natasha’s eyes on him as he willed the elevator to move, but it didn’t budge an inch. Finally accepting his fate, he turned towards her with a sheepish smile. “So,” he said, shifting his weight awkwardly. “Wanna make out, or...?”

[hawkguyed]

ღ kate

[ ღ ] clint makes an attempt to cheer kate up.

Clint knew Kate well enough to know when something was bothering her, even if she didn’t say the words out loud. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet all night, subdued on the couch and more or less responding to everything he said in grunts and one-word answers. Cheering people up had never been something Clint was great at. If anything, he usually did something more resembling the opposite, but for Kate, he was always willing to try.

The first step was ordering her favorite pizza. He pretended not to pick the pineapples off, didn’t complain about the crust. He turned on one of those movies she liked, even though it wasn’t really something he was into. He laughed at the jokes, a little more dramatically than necessary. He brewed her favorite kind of coffee, let her drink from his favorite Hawkeye mug. It wasn’t much, but it was all he knew how to do. He could only hope it had some effect.

[hawkguyed]

☎

[ ☎ ] clint calls wanada in tears.

Okay, so this situation wasn’t ideal. There was a cop standing over him looking angry, his shoulder ached from where it had made contact with the ground, and his keys had fallen somewhere in the sewer. Clint knew he was gonna have to really bend over backwards to get out of this one. It took some convincing to get the cop to allow him a phone call, and Clint silently thanked Matt for all the half-assed law knowledge he’d been able to bring out. Sometimes being friends with a lawyer was useful!

Scrolling through his contacts, he landed on Wanda with a grin. He should probably call someone like Matt or Natasha, but Wanda was far less likely to get all smug with him when she realized what this whole thing was about. Sniffling into the phone, Clint started off easy. After a few minutes, he let the sniffles shift over to over the top sobs, watching as discomfort distorted the officer’s face. He made sure to only say things Wanda would know were bullshit; the last thing he wanted was to worry her! “You just tell Genevieve I’ll talk to her after maw-maw’s funeral! I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go to jail! It was the jaywalking! I deserve this!” 

Finally, the cop groaned. “Just go,” he sighed. “Jesus Christ, go to the funeral. We’re good, it’s fine.” 

Clint did his best to save his triumphant grin for after the officer left. He was considerate like that!

[hawkguyed]

Clint, an idiot, makes a tradition of dressing as something that’s tried to kill him.

[hawkguyed]

russianwidcw‌:

(✉ → герой): I would never joke about that stuff, Clint. (✉ → герой): I’m looking forward to it. (✉ → герой): That’s a very fitting emoji. I’m proud of you for learning. (✉ → герой): Your dream is to make Tony cry? We have so much in common. (✉ → герой): He should have closets, but I’m scared of what we might find in them. He loves hi AIs.

(✉ → my hero): me either (✉ → my hero): not as much as i am! (✉ → my hero): thanks! i know other ones too! (✉ → my hero): i like to think the shared dream of making tony cry is part of what bonds us (✉ → my hero): oh my god do you think there are robots in his closets?

[hawkguyed]

queenofchcos‌:

(✉ → Hawkeye ❤️): No! We’re watching a really great movie! There’s no doing anything. (✉ → Hawkeye ❤️): I would never have sex with six people at the same time. (✉ → Hawkeye ❤️): I just mean I am in no way alone!

(✉ → sabrina): okay (✉ → sabrina): for both of our sakes (✉ → sabrina): i’m gonna pretend i believe you (✉ → sabrina): i’m glad you’re having a six person movie party!

[hawkguyed]

queenofchcos‌:

When Clint called Wanda, informing her of a disaster, she had been immediately panicked. With the fear toxin effecting all of New York, terrorizing her friends, Wanda was constantly worried about her loved ones. Unfortunately, they had all been subjected to some horrific things in the past, and fuelled the hallucinations and visions. Unfortunately, there was no easy fix unless they agreed to allow Wanda to bend reality. Unfortunately, not everyone was thrilled by that idea, and Wanda elected to simply support them in every way she possibly could.

For Clint, that meant rushing to his apartment after he called. When she caught sight of him, Clint looked… decent. His eyes weren’t wild like she had seen on the streets, but his hair was unkept. Clint was also dressed in clean clothing which implied a level of awareness. Breathing a sigh of relief, Wanda hugged Clint tightly. “I was so worried about you,” she informed him seriously. Clint couldn’t call her with that kind of request whilst a fear toxin was spreading around without panicking her. “What’s over there?” Wanda asked, furrowing her brow, concerned once more. “I don’t think it’s the fear toxin if it isn’t… traumatic,” she said slowly. Whoever had invented it was deeply disturbed. “A centipede?” Wanda repeated with a snort. “I don’t think a centipede could swallow a golden retriever, Clint. Lucky should be safe,” she assured him. “Um, what do you want me to do with it? Did you call me to bend reality to make the centipede go away?”

In retrospect, Clint probably could’ve worded things better. Calling someone with a catastrophe in New York was grounds for concern on a good day, but with the current state of the city, it was pretty much asking for trouble. If Clint had been thinking a little clearer, he would’ve made sure Wanda was aware that the situation wasn’t exactly dire, but that was easier said than done in his current state. The fear toxin ensured that he wasn’t sleeping well, while the added stress of not knowing who did it or how to stop it left him on edge in ways that was beyond hard to handle.

He knew the second Wanda rushed in that he was sort of an ass for not clearing things up, and had he been a little less tired, he might have offered her a sheepish grin in way of apology. As it was, he just ducked down a little further on the couch, watching her carefully over the back of it. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m good, we’re good. Just, you know, bugs.” He laughed quietly at her assessment, though there wasn’t much of his usual easy humor in the sound. Traumatic was certainly a good way of describing the fear toxin’s thing. “You haven’t seen it, Wanda! It’s huge. It’s dog-sized. We’re all doomed.” He was exaggerating a little, but only minorly! It really was a huge centipede, and he deserved to have it done away with. “What? No. I mean, that seems a little intense. I was hoping you could do something more like scooping it up in that cup and taking it outside?” His voice took on a hopeful tone, and he offered her his most winning smile.

[hawkguyed]

goquicksilvcr‌:

@hawkguyed

Pietro had always envisioned himself in America. It had been something of a pipe dream, something he had never expected to genuinely occur, and one that he had been somewhat embarrassed to own up to.  After all, America was far from the idyllic paradise that it had initially been intended to become, and none knew that as well as those within the USSR. Still, he had to admit that it wasn’t half bad here. It fulfilled his childlike expectations, at least, when it came to heroes who preserved the will of the weak and protected the innocent and weary. Even more than that, he was among their ranks, and in many ways he had Clint Barton to thank for that.

Without having someone else on the team with a dark past, someone else who had proven that it was possible to move on and become something better while still remembering the awful things you had done, Pietro might not have been convinced that he could become an Avenger at all. As it stood, he was still uncertain as to how much he fit in, but he could ignore that as he ignored so many other personal issues until such times as he was forced to confront them. “Hey, Barton,” Pietro called out, appearing suddenly in the middle of Clint’s kitchen, looking around for the other man. “You really need to work on your home security, man. I didn’t even need to vibrate the lock out of your door. A key above the door? Really?” Pietro sighed, pushing himself up on Clint’s counter and helping himself to a box of Cheerios from the cupboard. “This fear toxin sucks, huh?” he asked, between a mouthful of cereal. Never let it be said that Pietro Maximoff eschewed touchy topics altogether! Dealing with them sensitively was another matter entirely.

Clint had never had much trouble making friends. In the circus, you had to be charming enough to distract people from your hand slipping into their back pocket, and in the life that followed, it was always a good idea to make yourself just a little too likable to shoot. Keeping friends might not be his strong suit --- Clint had always had an unhealthy habit of pushing people away even when he wanted them close --- but making them? That was easy. He figured just about no one was surprised when he managed to befriend both Wanda and Pietro, figured they were all just as entirely unshocked when he practically adopted the twins once the battle was over. 

He understood them both a little more than he’d care to admit, knew what it was like to be manipulated and preyed on by people who took advantage of your desire to fit in, your desperation to be loved. He knew what it was like to have an absolute bastard of an old man hanging over your head, too, even if Harold Barton was nowhere near as nasty as Magneto. He also knew what it was like to desperately need a second chance, and he’d done his best to give that to them. In his opinion, neither of them had wasted it. That didn’t mean he was excited when Pietro randomly zoomed into his living room, scaring the absolute shit out of him. “You gotta stop doing that,” he said when he’d recovered from the initial heart attack of suddenly not being alone. “One’a these days, I’m gonna shoot you. I’m gonna feel just terrible about it, too.” He rolled his eyes as Pietro started eating his way through the kitchen. “Door wasn’t even locked,” he admitted. He liked an open door policy with his tenants! It was totally a good thing. “You don’t like it? I was havin’ a blast with it.”