⤐ н a w ĸ e y e

"ɪғ ɪᴛ’s ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ᴄᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ, ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪᴛ ɪs - ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴏᴛ." ᴄʟɪɴᴛᴏɴ "ᴄʟɪɴᴛ" ғʀᴀɴᴄɪs  ᴀʟɪᴀs: ʜᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ  Part of Earth 818 HQ

[hawkofheart]

exhumcd‌:

This was a day like any other, walking through the streets with his german shepherd that seems to be in a better mood than usual. Jason always appreciates having Darcy in his life as he always knows when his owner really needs him — like when his mind plays tricks on the bad days. However today was seemingly good until the dog is suddenly racing down the sidewalk. “DARCY? WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Jason groans starting to run after him, glad that he’s fit to keep up. He stops finding the two dogs playing in one of the alleyways. “So — you‘re making a friend?”

— - ➸  ❮ ᴊᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ || ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴏᴅ ❯

Clint has never shuffled faster in his life than this very moment. There's a  s l i g h t panic —which was normal, considering his dog just ran out on him, like every woman in his life. Nowhere to be seen or found. Classic. “Get a dog, they said. They'll never leave your side. Pfft. Always gotta have it the other way around, huh?” He mumbles, patting himself down. But there's a noise his hearing aids picks up. “Lucky?” His head tilts in curiosity as he grows closer and closer. He manages to see a dorito shaped torso of a man ( is everyone here built like that? ) just . . . Standing there  ( ??? ) in the alleyway. “Enjoying the show?” The archer questions with an arch of his brow and a lopsided smirk. Alright, so this could've been way worse. “Glad to know the kids are being supervised.”

[hawkofheart]

rowanova‌:

it was an ordinary day, an ordinary errand. a briefcase that needed to be transported from one location to another. her grip was iron, holding the case against her lower thigh as she glided down the walkway. there was chatter all around, but only one voice stood out, uttering a foreign name in her direction. natalia stopped short. her head turned, finding a tall man with sandy, blond hair. he was a stranger to her, but that name …. natasha …. is belonged to a woman that shared her face.  a woman that shared her experiences in the red room. yet, somehow, they were as different as night and day. natalia wasn’t a hero. she wouldn’t sacrifice herself to save another. and she natasha for being weak. i’m not her, i’ll never be her. 

natalia gritted her teeth, forcing herself to address the man in front of her. she wanted to ignore him, keep walking, finish the job. but this man was different from natasha’s other friends. that look in his eyes …. that guilt …. she knew he would only chase her. and she almost wanted to know why.

“why not?” 

— - ➸  ❮ ɴᴀᴛᴀʟɪᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏᴠᴀ || ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴅᴏᴡ ❯

Behind the crease between his brows, the iron-clad gaze he's met with, there's another Clint. The lost and jagged edges stolen from his orphaned youth become f o r g o t t e n, the ambition to prove his place q u e l l s, the cold mannerisms of his criminal lifestyle v a n i s h e s.  The coat of confusion shifts to one of vulnerability. He's no idiot; knows when to take a beat. A moment.

Tangible, present, h e r e; she draws him in with those green eyes — SHARP and DARK, hiding a devastating storm that threatens to shred any hope Clint tries ( wants ) to desperately cling onto. He simply studies h e r. All their time together and only now did he delve into angles of her jaw, slope of her nose and shine of cascading red that hung over her shoulders. Observed, learned, and memorized. The way her lips move to question him, not in the Romanoff fashion he was use to. The pasting glances, the unspoken between the s p a c e s of words, no hint of their language. So serious and hued in honesty, they serve only to reveal that Natasha BELIEVES the words. ( Why not? )

How could she not remember when it was so vivid to h i m? Seared, scarred, etched into his mind ( burning  r e d ), on loop like a VHS tape stuck in a VCR. The film becoming unraveled and unwound. He is slow and careful, his thumb brushing against her exposed wrist. “Don’t make me say it, Tasha.” He pauses, “Why didn’t you let me know you were here?”

[hawkofheart]

thunderblts‌:

Thor laughed along with Clint, his chest puffed up at the compliment. “You missed me,” he teased and clapped his hand on Clint’s shoulder as well. “But it is fine, I’ve missed you as well. It seems everyone I care to know resides on Midgard.” The remains of his people, the remains of his team, the remains of his life. It’s so tempting, the wallowing and quiet self imposed exile. It calls to him on the quiet days when he has nothing to do and no purpose before him. So he fills those moments by clashing pint glasses with friends or clashing weapons with enemies. “I couldn’t let you have all the glory should we be called upon.”

The toaster dinged in the other room and Thor perked up. He motioned for his friend to follow him back to the kitchen. “I would be careful. If he heard you refer to him as such, I cannot promise you will survive the experience unmarred. He prefers Rocket and he is a talented marauder and a more talented creator of weapons. No, the real creature to be wary of on that ship is Mantis. She has the little things like this,” Thor brought his fingers to his forehead to mimic her antenna. “She can read your mind and influence your behavior. One day she’ll find her confidence and all will be lost.” He passed Clint the second strudel and began munching on his own. “And you? How have you faired this past month?”

— - ➸  ❮ ᴛʜᴏʀ ᴏᴅɪɴsᴏɴ || ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛʏ ᴛʜᴏʀ ❯

He gives the Asgardian a nudge of the elbow to choice words, "I'm a seasoned professional, I don't mind sharing the glory." The world felt so . . . Topsy - Turvy. It seemingly crumbled underneath their feet more times than the archer had scars on his hands ( hint: it was a lot ). But it’s out of the left-field, the weird calm and weight ( that wasn't a jab, calm down ) the literal GOD besides him brought. It was w e l c o m e d. A comfort the archer almost forgot, even if it wasn't all that surprising either. “Careful, I think Mantis might 'feel' that comment and come get ya.” The thought releases a much-needed chuckle from Clint/

Ah, now that was the question, huh? Some days, Clint was capable of sniping bad dudes off rooftops while running for his life without  t r i p p i n g  up once. Other days, pouring piping hot coffee down his shirt seemed like heaven, “I saw Natasha, recently. So, naturally, I've got a lot on my mind.”

[hawkofheart]

bctterhawkeye‌:

   “yeah, well, that’s nothing i don’t already know.”  yet she couldn’t help but feel the sting attached to hearing those words spoken from the man himself.  resisting the urge, the swell felt surging through her entire body that told her to leave, it’d be pride swallowed.  if what happened with natasha had taught her anything, it was how limited time could be, the weight of each second ticking away.

   “you can tell me to leave all you want, but i have …  things i need to say first.  i owe you an apology.  i know, i know  —  it’s long overdue, but i can’t …  go back and change that.  the world was changing that day, it DID, i didn’t consider much more than that && i’m sorry for it.  for so long i thought that you were gone and in a way …  you still are.  when we found you- you weren’t the same clint anymore and that scared me - so i stayed away.  but now nat’s gone, and even if you aren’t the same clint, i can’t stay away.  being alo- … being the only hawkeye really sucks.”

— - ➸  ❮ ᴋᴀᴛᴇ ʙɪsʜᴏᴘ || ʜᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ ❯

He often found a solemn comfort in the quiet provided. He leaned on it, relied on it when he would need the call of still before he released the nock of the arrow. His target aligned with his sight. The anticipation building and swelling. But this was vastly different. Clint’s about to fall into an emotional breaking point, he can’t do this. ( He doesn't want to ). B r e a t h e, Barton. He repeats it o v e r and o v e r again. TILL he reaches that place, where actions speak louder than the words ( panic ) in his head, “Kate, it's . . .” How did he mess this up so bad? She's still not seeing the worst of him. She's being too good to him. Too understanding. Too empathic. Energy she should spend somewhere else on someone else.  “You're right,” it's hushed admission, cloud by the roughness of his throat.

“But you're still not seeing the full picture, Hawkeye.” He takes a heavy breath. It was a bitter pill to swallow, to take, to give into it. Where he recognized the truth, she wears a pair of sunglasses to shade away from the parts she doesn't like. Part of her still sees him as the kind, Clint Barton. The guy who puts his life on the line every day, the jokester who rolled sarcasm out almost as well as punches. But she's refusing to call him what he was, what he had been these past five years: A thief, an assassin. The man that would still kill today for the “right” reasons. 

Clint is the Hawkeye that makes certain choices, the choice to become Ronin, leave men dead in his wake. That was the man Kate was refusing to see. He didn’t want her to see more of darkness he’s been hiding.

So he pushes her away and prays that she will move on. “You’re the lucky one. I'm not . . . Kate, just give up on me alright? I’m giving you an out.”

[hawkofheart]

— - ➸  ❮ ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ || sᴘɪᴅᴇʀ-ᴍᴀɴ ❯ @thwipses

The shield shines, CALLING OUT from its resting place against the wall. Seductive, a l l u r i n g and Clint Barton has always been weak to temptation. “Just once. Sam won't know, Steve won't know. There's no harm here . . . Really.” The weight is startlingly comfortable, metal cool and smooth against his fingers. He aims, taking a stance that he’s seen Rogers do a million and one times . . . But it’s the KID ( !! ) in the doorway that causes his heel to switch rotation. “Aw, crap. HEAD’S UP!” The grip slips, sending the shield flying at the wrong target and the archer tipping forward. 

[hawkofheart]

— - ➸  ❮ ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏsᴏɴ || ɴɪɢʜᴛᴡɪɴɢ ❯ @nightvviing

IT'S BECOME HABIT to leave his hearing aids at home. All the sound CLUTTERED the beauty of a walk through the mixed-mashed city of lights. Cause, well, he didn't have reason to be paranoid. Whoever wanted to see  H A W K E Y E dead, clearly didn't get the memo . . . Low-ranked Avengers had no 'glory'. Gotta go after the big guns if they wanted that ( there's a whole big world of 'em now ). The thought causes him to smirk, low and careful with its flirtation. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen many of the newer superheroes. They seemed interesting, if not, colorful. Lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice the harsh shoulder check he gives the stranger walking by.

“AW, man. Sorry 'bout that. Raincheck on exchanging insurance?” Clint states, staring intently at the man's lips for a reply. He does it without thinking, force of habit the archer guesses. Lip- reading was easier than explaining the sign-language. 

( Oh, man. This is might get weird ) ?

[hawkofheart]

— - ➸  ❮ ɴᴀᴛᴀʟɪᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏᴠᴀ || ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴅᴏᴡ ❯ @rowanova

 Hesitation cements his feet in place, leaving the archer immobile in one of NYC's busier walkways. Calloused fingers carded through short blond hair, stopping briefly to grip the locks, release and repeat the cycle over. ( He had to be  D R E A M I N G, right? ) There’s too much history  h a n g i n g  off his back with claws sunk deep into the muscles of his shoulders. “Natasha?” The name alone rests a two-ton WEIGHT in the pit of his stomach, scratching upward slowly to grip his chest in a painful vice. A ball of overwhelming  G U I L T suffocates his windpipe, sitting against the hollow of his throat. Clint chokes on it, physically pained as though palms and fingers were tightening with each swallow ( she's not real ). His jaw works, failing to produce sounds, words tangled and caught in a web called Vormir. To see his . . .  — friend. His most loyal.

“You can't be here.” There’s a  s l i p . . . Raw, unfiltered regret when the statement pours out. He knows better . . . Than to  l i n g e r  his gaze, to let himself wander over her features. 

She seemed like a familiar story, only at a different chapter.  

[hawkofheart]

— - ➸  ❮ ᴊᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ || ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴏᴅ ❯ @exhumcd

“We gonna get outta this city soon, Lucky,” He mutters, bent and scratching behind the retriever's ear. “How's 'bout a vacay, huh? You, me, an- . . .” Clint pauses at the soft smile the quadruped offers, before lifting an ear and turning away suddenly. The A R C H E R tenses, raising his gaze to explore the general direction the dog was staring. At first, nothing appears to stand out ( no familiar faces, no civilians who appear to have recognized him nor any confused authoritative figures ), but then — “Who are—?” The question hangs in the air, unfinished as Barton loses his grip on the leash and Lucky tears away from him. “Lucky! WAIT!”

[hawkofheart]

bctterhawkeye‌:

➳   @hawkofheart

   you can’t avoid him forever.  natasha’s words seemed to follow her wherever she went, always with some bullshit excuse attached.  some bullshit excuse to do just that - to avoid.  the dog needs you.  it seemed so harsh in retrospect, but that was likely per the fact that those words echoed as often as the late natasha’s.  the last words she’d said to clint before the snap, before she’d burst into the apartment to find nothing more than his gear on the bed.  dusted – surely.  for an entire month she’d believed just that until they’d found him through whispers, working under another alias, another persona.

   not the barton she remembered, one born again.  had she caused this harshness?  the world was changed in more ways than one, but the change in clint was one she couldn’t seem to handle.  yet as the world changed back then, it was changing again.  hearing word of a natasha’s return caused those words to echo more loudly, brought her to his doorstep, fingers trembling as she let herself inside – of course he hadn’t changed the locks.  years passed since she stepped through the threshold calling out the same words she would now, “anyone home?”  swallowing fear, apprehension, flashes back to that fateful day that’d make her runaway – again.

— - ➸  ❮ ᴋᴀᴛᴇ ʙɪsʜᴏᴘ || ʜᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ ❯

It almost seems C R U E L – the silence that follows her entrance. It made him restless, itchy to move to the closest fire escape. There were no bullets were clipping his arms, no robots falling from the sky, no bomb to defuse . . . Saving the world? Yeah, that's  e a s y.  That's a  h a b i t. Salvaging through a wreckage to repair something HE  b r o k e?  Something that couldn't be wrapped over and over again by his worn promises. Or duct tape. He . . . Why was this the H A R D E R thing? Why couldn’t he just face her? After all the wrong he'd done the past five years. It was a deserved punishment, he just thought... He had more time.

Say it. Say it, Barton. He steps out.

“You shouldn't be here, Bishop.” ( wrong answer ) The phrase leaves his lips loud and false. He ‘glares’ into her eyes for a moment, before turning away to hide. Doesn’t give her an opportunity to see the LIE in the gateways of his soul. It’s the first time he feels like he's succeeded in telling this fabrication, well woven deceit. ( maybe it was the murder, the thief in him that made it easier ). He has no intention of letting her see how much it hurts to p u s h her away. “Just go.”

[hawkofheart]

thunderblts‌:

A month amongst the stars and for the first time in five years he hadn’t been running or hiding. Adventuring and working with the Guardians had kept him busy and made him feel useful again. Now it was time to come back. Valkyrie, his king, had told him of the Champion Stark walking once more amongst the Midgardians and it seemed like the time to return to his teammates.

He’d made a point of avoiding the fundraiser. They always wanted him in his armor, swinging Mjolnir around and testing the worthiness of people who would never seek true battle.  Instead, he ate with his people and journeyed to New York at his own pace.

The new building was nice enough in it’s own charming Midgardian way. Though, it needed more balconies and a new lock for the rooftop door.  Still, very charming, and a very well stocked kitchen. He was waiting for the Toaster Strudel to warm up when he noticed a friend pass the doorway.

“Barton,” he called out loudly and rushed into the hallway.  “It has been too long.”

@hawkofheart

— - ➸  ❮ ᴛʜᴏʀ ᴏᴅɪɴsᴏɴ || ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛʏ ᴛʜᴏʀ ❯

THE BELLOW of the Asgardian echoed; vibrated its octave through the soles of the archer's shoes to the low hum of his hearing aid. “Pft, ya always gotta be a force ta be reckoned with, huh, Thor?” Clint teased, all the while taking a step closer to the man with the W I L D LION’S mane. He gives a welcoming pat on the shoulder, “Well, that's what happens when you go to space.” A chuckle entangling itself in the statement. Despite the tease, Clint got it. Understood the duty Thor had better than most . . . Or rather, that was the lie Clint liked to tell himself, repeat it like a  m a n t r a  ( he had red in his ledger now ). They were the only two original members of The Avengers left; left to keep the memories and preserve the ghosts once called friends.

Other places needed what Earth had. H e r o e s. (  aka, not him ) And even though Earth was . . . Well, seemed to have a slew of them now, didn't mean everywhere else did. “So, how did it go with the talking raccoon?”

[ofvenomblasts]

“gerry!” jessica exclaimed, sighing as she quickly ran off after her son, who had wandered over to another, holding a stuffed toy of pikachu out to them. whether he wanted them to take it or just wanted to show it to them was… well, it was debatable. “we’ve talked about this, baby, you aren’t supposed to take off on me,” she sighed as she picked him up, holding him against her hip. “i’m sorry about him. he’s just… curious. people warn you about kids and their ‘terrible two’s’ but sometimes it doesn’t get much better after that,” she chuckled softly before holding her hand out for the pikachu the other was holding. “he’ll lose his s-h-i-t if he doesn’t have pika by bed time,” she chuckled, while gerry repeated ‘pika’ after jess had said it. “i’m jessica, by the way. and this is gerry.”

[hawkofheart]

— - ➸  ❮ ᴊᴇssɪᴄᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴡ || sᴘɪᴅᴇʀ-ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ❯

      The archer doesn’t RESIST, the A M U S E D rumble that bubbles from the back of his throat to the stuffed . . . Uh . . . Thor mouse ( What was that thing called again?? ) that's offered. His lips slowly shift, favoring one side while he shook his head to none other than the child before him. Clint easily gets down to Gerry's level and meets his eyes. “Ya know, you betta listen to you mom. Cause she'd kick my as-,” Clint clears his throat, as a way to . . . Ya know, not cuss in front of the child? Maybe?  “Butt. If anythin’ happened to you while I was around.” That's when his eyes avert over to those sterling baby blues of none other than Jessica Drew ( Really? Rhyming, Barton? Thought the circus taught you better than that ).

“Oh. Hey, Jessica.” Clint decidedly plays along. His smirk takes that FAMILIAR curve  ( he’s shameless and he knows it ). The one seemingly that knew her. Was intrigued by her. Enjoyed the A N G E R she expelled out into the world and found an unusual beauty in it. What happened to them again…? Oh. Right. “Gerry, here? Totally fine in my book." He rises up from the knelt position, “I'm Clint Barton, by the way.” He gives the pika back, a wink not too far behind. 

[hawkofheart]

— - ➸  ❮ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ || ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʟɪɴᴛ ʙᴀʀᴛᴏɴ ❯

Alright, guys and gals! Here is the basic rundown of my version of Clint Barton: He’s a hybrid of COMICS and MCU. I borrow a lot from both, honestly. So if you have a specific question about him, just shoot  *ba dam tisss* me a message! C:  But below are some things I try to get right about his personality.

Also I am ~*SPOILERS*~ keeping most of his storyline from Endgame, just not Laura and the kids. *worst hubby ever*

PERSONALITY:

Some people might consider Clint’s personality to be essentially flawed. He acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what many others could or would say. He had an extremely rough childhood and it left him with a heap of trust issues (especially toward male role models). Despite all that though, he makes his own path and always TRIES to stay kind and benevolent even when it gets hard. He tends to bounce back pretty quick because he’s almost always expecting things to fall apart, one way or another. So yeah, he can be a ‘tad bit’ self-depreciation on a personal level ( he doesn’t doubt his abilities, he knows what he brings to the table ) … But Clint knows that even with all the wrong that he has done; he isn’t a bad guy. Not anymore, at least.

He is a very, VERY audible underdog; it’s one of the qualities he is best known for.  If you’re out of line or making the wrong decision, he will tell you. One thing Clint doesn’t like is when people try and intimidate others, so naturally, he will challenge authority. Nothing is ever black or white with him, he can see the greys in a critical situation. To him, it’s just a matter of whose vantage point you’re looking through.

Another thing, Clint Barton is widely known for is his borderline-line cynicism and snark. It grounds him, helps to keep things in perspective to stay honest and true to his beliefs. He never runs away from a challenge ( for the most part, as long as you aren’t an ex-girlfriend or something ). With him, there’s a constant need to be better, to do better. He always TRIES, even if he isn’t ‘good’ at something. He does it anyway. Which is why Clint is remarkably brave and loyal when it comes to putting himself out there whether it’s with friends or family. He doesn’t trust easily but when he does. It’s with oaths.

Overall, he has a good heart.  

Good Traits:

Independent

Reliable

Loyal

Witty

Strong Moral Compass

Bad Traits:

Distrusting

Self-Depreciating

Smart Ass

Hot-Headed

Actual Manchild

[clintfbarton-deactivated2025012]

[mysharona1987]

[quicksillver]

what did you expect you overdue idiot? look at who you are, look at where you’ve been. so, yeah. admit the truth for once. that’s all you ever really had to offer the avengers, isn’t it? you were lucky. but that’s the thing about luck. you can’t run with super-soldiers and world-beaters forever. eventually your luck runs out and there’s never any warning so try not to think about it

Avengers: No Road Home (2019) #2

[marveladdicts]

Clint Barton in the new Avengers: Endgame trailer

[silkspectred]

every day i’ve looked in the mirror and said, “maybe today is the day i’ll make it right.” for everybody. for the avengers. for luke. for… now i won’t even be able to do that.