#Ash Barton

[joezy27]

HAWKEYE - Wastelanders (Podcast)

Marvel’s Wastelanders: Hawkeye International Edition on Audible in French, German, Hindi, Italian and Japanese Sept 29, 2023

[golden-rolling-hills]

brody and barton being pokémon nerds on main is healing my soul 😭😭😭

[wanderingmind867]

Who knew some of my favorite characters would be archers and/or sons of mars? Frank Zhang, Hawkeye, Martian Manhunter, possibly Green Arrow, etc. I know a lot of these characters are very different, but it's weird how the bow characters and/or characters tied to mars seem to appeal to me. Some odd coincidences, I guess. But I really do like all of the characters i've mentioned (but i put the maybe around green arrow because i haven't read many comics with him yet). And technically, I've liked archers in other things too. I remember really liking ashe in fire emblem: three houses (which was one of my last interests before the current long comics hyperfixation).

[adobongsiopao]

I finally found this copy of "North and South" by Elizabeth Gaskell. I've been looking for it ever since I watched the 2004 BBC mini series version starring Daniela Denby-Ashe and Richard Armitage. For some reason, this novel is not usually available in bookstores near our area so I had to resort to buy it online. It's quite expensive and has some dent but it's still in good condition. I'll read this later.

[alwaysxinxtrouble]

“It’s a risk.” Emotionless, Barton said without hesitation to Loki’s declaration of wanting to rule the world, his chilling smile confirming how pleased he was with the comment. The cube had shown him many things since the god arrived, mainly what he needed to do to help in anyway he could for the chitauri to invade Earth. He had done everything necessary; gathering mercenaries, SHIELD’s enemies, and other random workers to help Selvig along with picking out a safe house with three lead lined floors to keep them out of Fury’s sights.

“If you’re set on making yourself known, it could be useful.” He figured from there he would gather up what he needed and set off on his mission to collect the last of the raw materials needed to open the portal. But with a small notion of Loki’s hand and he was following him down the corridor, away from the noise and busyness of the construction.

@ash-muses

[rileychester]

You know what makes me furious about Emmerdale.

They waste their time with pointless characters like Chole instead of spending their time on better characters like Matty.

Matty has been on the show a lot longer than Chole and that’s not even including when he was on before when he was a kid with the whole Barton family.

Lets start first with the fact that he’s trans, there is so little repsentation of trans character on tv and there should be more. Also most of the trans characters I know are from the US, I don’t think I know any who are based in the UK.

Added on the fact that Amy and him are a couple. And yet we haven’t seen them be a couple, they’re engaged to be married if the show can be bothered to remember.

Why haven’t we seen them have small moments like having domestic moments of sharing a meal or sorting out who used the last of the milk. Or big moments where they have a date night together or talk about if they want more kids.

We haven’t even gotten into the soap gold mine of the fact that Amy is the mother of Kyle, that she shares with Cain. Who is Matty’s freaking stepfather and Amy and Cain have a touchy truce over custody of Kyle. Not even going into everything that happened with the accidental death of Al.

Circling back round to Amy and Matty getting married. Yet no mention, no discussion of what kind of wedding they want or going to have. I mean you think the show would be all over that. Think of the publicity that would bring them, in all the magazines and yet nothing. I mean no talk of the food, the music, the venue, nothing. Not even a mention of Kyle giving Amy away at the wedding.

Speaking of Kyle, why don’t they have more scenes with Kyle and Matty. Not only as stepbrothers, but the fact that Amy and Matty are dating and Matty is suppose to become Kyle’s stepdad. Yet, Kyle spends more time with Issac and if he is with Matty, it’s because Matty is ushering him off so the grownups can talk.

Matty should be on the show more, given better storylines and more screen time.

Emmerdale needs to step it up.

[lil-doodles]

Well, for those who are curious, here is the project I was working on for my wife. She has a collection of perfume bottles that she wants to display and she wanted art to accompany them. I took her pop culture interests and made them into faux scent products. Boa Noite is from Love Actually, Grantham is from Downton Abbey, Monks Barton is from Midsomer Murders, Black Ash is the type of tobacco that Sherlock Holmes smoked, and Pemberley is from Pride and Prejudice.

[kaceyrps]

ASH PALMISCIANO in EMMERDALE

[joezy27]

HAWKEYE - Old Clint Barton & Natasha "Ash" Morse

Wastelanders - Hawkeye (2022) #1 Variant cover by Francesco Mobili & Andres Mossa

[pandagirl45]

Kraven: *pins clint in* i like them a little fiesty

Clint: *holding his bruised arm glaring*

[jasperarsonaurelia]

Kayla : who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Clint : language!

Ashley : yeah watch your fucking language

Kate : OKAY WHO TAUGHT ASH THE FUCK WORD?

Kayla : the fuck word

Léa : are you serious? You guys use the f word all the time

Kayla : oh my god she censored it

Ashley : say fuck, Léa

Kayla : do it, Léa. say fuck

[alwaysxinxtrouble]

Two years of running from one dive bar and shitty motel to the next, never staying in one place more than a few days. Paying in cash helped keep him off of Tony's radar, figuring the genius was monitoring his accounts. If he was looking for him at all after what he did. Burner cell phones kept Natasha from pinning him down. Stealing a beater car every time he moved towns, stopping only long enough to switch out the plates, allowed him to remain several steps ahead of the Avengers, driving off in random directions each time.

It turns out New Orleans during Mardi Gras was the perfect place for a drunk to hide from the world. He blended in with all of the other tourists stumbling around the city, no one thinking to look twice in his direction. The only difference being he picked a place to stay and parked himself on the balcony of his room with a glass of bourbon in one hand and cigarette in the other, feet up on the railing. His gaze remained on the night sky above, ignoring the festivities below.

♡ Starter for @alwaysxinxtrouble

Thor Odinson moved through the crowds, his gaze scanning each individual carefully. The swarms of civilians seemed to part with ease, his presence bringing an air of determination and sharp focus. They had been searching for Clint Barton, who had vanished after the battle in New York City. He was elusive, having slipped under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar for roughly two years, much to Nick Fury's vexation.

While he couldn't pinpoint what, the God of Thunder knew something had happened during Barton's time with his brother, Loki.  The brainwashing had left something behind — something that had caused Clint to flee — and Thor was nothing if not protective of his comrades.  Then, there was a prickling sensation in the atmosphere, a sense of eyes upon him from one of the buildings; he knew he was close, having used Heimdall's guidance to track the archer this far.  "Show yourself, my friend," he muttered to himself, piercing cerulean eyes darting over the windows and ledges of the buildings above, searching for any sign of the missing Avenger.

[wheelsup-sevenup]

whumpuary 2025: day 3!

prompt: choice / storm / black eye

pairing: clint barton & natasha romanoff (marvel)

warnings: arguments + violence, implied dissociation

“…And will that be one or two beds?” the woman behind the desk asked Clint, looking askance at the muddy footsteps he’d tracked over the patchy carpet.

“Two, if you’ve got ‘em,” Clint said absently, wrapping the soggy Ace bandage back around the already bruising sprain on his wrist.

Clint was the only other person in the lobby aside from the receptionist. The motel was by no means nice, just the first Holiday Inn he could make out through the pouring rain. He’d asked Natasha if that was alright, but she’d just kept staring out the window. Nothing behind her eyes. He had yet to get used to it.

Apparently, Clint hadn’t got to know his new partner during her months of debrief as well as he’d thought. Their first unsupervised mission together had been something of a disaster: though they’d managed to get the intel they needed, the cover identity he’d spent years building up was left as ashes in their wake.

He was pissed. The car ride had been spent in silence.

“All right, your room’s gonna be 113, just across there.” The receptionist slid across two room keys, and Clint thanked her before ducking back out into the rain.

It was still pouring outside, and Clint jogged across the parking lot, trying in vain to keep himself from getting more soaked than he already was. In the car, Natasha still sat in the passenger seat, curled up loosely with her chin against her knees. She didn’t react when Clint rapped on the window the first time, and, irritated, he knocked again. “Natasha. C’mon.”

She opened the car door, turning minutely to face him while keeping herself out of the rain. Clint tossed a room key to her, which dropped onto her thigh, then fell into the footwell as she continued to stare at him.

“Natasha. I’m freezing. Let’s go.”

She didn’t move.

“Let’s go, I said.” Frustration swelled within him — at her, for being dry while he was wet, for not saying a word to him the past five hours, for the cover identity of Jamie Baker that no longer existed — and he leaned forward, seizing her bicep in his grip.

For some reason, he hadn’t expected the blow that came, swift and hard enough to knock him on his ass.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes watering, fireworks of pain shooting their way through his eye socket. “Natasha, what the fuck?”

He looked up at her, sitting curled in the passenger seat like she hadn’t moved at all, but this time he recognized the look in her eyes. He’d seen it before in wild animals, in the eyes of a fox about to sink her teeth into her own leg. Clint took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Anger still roiled in his chest, but he pushed it down. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you. Shit, Natasha, I’m learning too. I’m new at this. I’m sorry.”

A flicker of recognition. She met his eyes.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said, and to his surprise, he wasn’t. “I’m gonna go inside. You can follow me, or not. We don’t have to talk, if you do want to come in. It can be your choice, got it? Your choice. I’ll stay out of your way.”

Slowly, he got up, retrieving his bag from the trunk and leaving Natasha in silence.

The room was nothing special. Quiet, small. Two beds. Clint barely noticed any of it, checking through the window as soon as he got in to make sure the car was still there in the parking lot. He half-expected it to be gone, for her to be on the interstate already. But she had waited.

When he got out of the shower, the car was gone.

Her choice, he’d said. And if she’d chosen to leave, take her chances elsewhere? Well, he’d never live that down at SHIELD, but ultimately, she might be better off for it.

He took the bed farthest from the door. Didn’t secure the extra locks, just in case. He flipped through the channels for a moment before he fell asleep still sitting up, in the middle of a rerun of Family Feud.

He woke up to the shower turning on. Somehow, Clint hadn’t registered her presence when Natasha came in, and he wondered what it said about him, that he already trusted her that implicitly.

The room was dark, save for the TV, now playing Wheel of Fortune. He couldn’t see out of his right eye, didn’t even want to know what the swelling was going to look like.

Illuminated on his nightstand was a plastic shopping bag, a CVS receipt piled alongside it. Inside the bag was a hard wrist brace, a new Ace bandage, Tylenol, and a bag of Haribo gummy bears.

Clint couldn’t help but smile. It was something.

i feel like i’ve wanted to write more fics like these about clintnat, those early shield days where they didn’t know each other as well yet, where maybe things weren’t so smooth as they are later. and i’m really glad i did, because i love the way this one came out :)

i will probably keep this one a tumblr exclusive. but watch out bc i have at least another two-parter for clint/nat coming, (which i’ll probably post on ao3) with a lotta hurt and a lotta comfort ;)

[yourdailyqueer]

Ash Palmisciano

Gender: Transgender man

Sexuality: N/A

DOB: 3 January 1990

Ethnicity: White - British

Occupation: Actor, screenwriter, director, activist

Note: His character, Matty Barton, became the first trans character on Emmerdale and he won the Best Newcomer accolade at the Inside Soap Awards for his portrayal of Matty.

[katebishopofearth]

Feel free to ignore….

How do you think tony would react to nats death? (In an ironwidow world ofc)!

Anon you've caught me in an ironwidow mood, and also a writing mood, and also an Endgame mood thanks to @queeenpersephone's excellent scene rewrite. So, it seems like the stars have aligned to make me answer this ask ;)

----

"See you in a minute." Natasha had smirked and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, a quick goodbye like she was going to to pick up cat food from the store down the road. Tony had barely laid a hand on her waist, hadn't even begun to hold her close for a lingering goodbye before they went off to different corners of space and time, when she stepped back lithely and slipped out of his reach.

He'll see her before too long.

But a minute later – after he took a life-changing trip to the past and laid some daddy issues to rest – Clint returns alone to the here and now. Drenched and weaponless, he collapses onto all fours, an orange jewel clutched in his hand.

The Avengers stare at him in trepidation, waiting for an explanation, when all he can offer is a grief-stricken look on his face. A black holes opens up in Tony's stomach and swallows his pounding heart.

"Where is she?" he demands, his voice shaking.

The bow-less archer turns his eyes to him. A look of profound sorrow carved into the lines on his face.

No. Tony swallows the despair that threatens to swallow him whole. "Where is she?!" He repeats, using anger to mask the immense fear that yawns inside him. He steps forward and kneels down to grabs Clint by the shoulders. "Tell me, you coward!" he snarls, at once a demand and a plea. Tell me she's right behind you. Tell me she got left behind. Tell me there's still time to save her. Tell me… tell me… anything except –

Clint shakes his head, unshed tears in his eyes like the alien stars he has just witnessed. "She's gone." His voice cracks.

"No – you're lying." Tony's voice comes out far harsher than he intends. "Tell me you're lying, Barton. Tell me where she is." He's pleading now, all desperation.

"Clint?" Steve prompts, his voice even and calm and Tony hates it, hates how he can be so fucking composed when Natasha isn't here. "Tell us what happened."

"The stone demanded a sacrifice," Clint says. "I tried to stop her, I really did." A sob wrenches its way out of his throat. "I fought her so that she wouldn't jump but she…" His laugh is a broken thing. Something inside Tony – the last remaining shard of hope – shatters at the sound. "She was too fast, too strong for me." He sinks his forehead onto Tony's shoulder despite the other man's aggressive hold. "It should have been me."

"No. No, that's not true, that's not…" Tony stumbles over the words. His head spins, light particles and dust molecules and oxygen swirl around him, taking no shape. His lungs don't work properly anymore. He sees her in his mind's eye, on some barren cliff on an alien planet, and the image doesn't make sense, it simply isn't possible. That she no longer exists somewhere in the world, that the universe isn't warmer for her presence, living and breathing, as certain as the Earth spinning on its axis. Tony wants to look out the windows because surely, surely without her the sun would crumble into ash and the atmosphere disappear and the world fall into smothering darkness because a world without Natasha – is not a world that can exist at all.

Clint raises his head and the grief in his eyes is as fathomless as the pit that yawns within Tony. A black hole to swallow them both and the world with them. Part of Tony wants to put his arms around Clint, hold onto the only person who can possibly understand this terrible, apocalyptic grief and emptiness. But the other part of him wants to push him away, to curse and scream, to fight time and fate and the universe itself.

That angry, resentful part wins out. He shoves Clint off and gets to his feet. "You're right," he snarls. "She's not the one who deserved to die."

"Tony!" Steve gasps in reproach, grabbing Tony's shoulder. But Clint only hangs his head in shame. "That was out of line," Steve reprimands.

"Out of line?" Tony echoes angrily. "Natasha is –" /dead/. He can't bring himself to say the word, to make it unbearably true and final. If he doesn't say it, he can pretend that maybe, maybe in another minute he'll see her again, and this time he'll wrap his arms around her, holding her properly so that she can't slip away again.

"She's gone," Steve says with sombre finality. The lines between his brows betray that he's already admitted defeat, and it makes Tony want to punch him in the face. "We've got to move on." The look of sympathy in his eyes, that implies I know how you feel, makes Tony sick to the stomach.

Tony's voice is freezing cold. "With all due respect, Cap," which is none, he adds silently, "Natasha isn't Peggy Carter. She didn't get to live a full life and achieve great things, and grow old, and die in her own bed surrounded by her children and grandchildren. She has so much life left to live!" He's vibrating with rage, and it's all he can do to stop himself from throwing hands with Captain America.

"She did," Steve agrees, squeezing Tony's shoulder in a way that's meant to be comforting but comes across as a pressure. "But she sacrificed herself for a cause, and we'll honour that. Make the price she paid worth it. We'll save the world. It's what she would want."

Tony glares, his anger freezes his veins and burns him from the inside out. "You don't get to tell me what Natasha would want." He pushes Steve's hand from his shoulder. "For someone who says he wants to save the world, you're awfully quick to give up on the people you love."

"You can't change the past, Tony," Steve urges, but Tony brushes past him roughly.

"No," he says with icy conviction. "I refuse to believe that. I didn't figure out time travel by admitting defeat. You might be able to move on, Steve," he adds scathingly. "But not me."

He marches to the console of the time travel machine. A cold fire burns at the edges of the black hole inside him, the only thing keeping it from engulfing him in despair. He's figured out time travel once, he can do it again. Especially when it's the life of the one person he loves more than anything else that's on the line.

He looks around the tense, grief-stricken faces of the gathered Avengers. Everyone Natasha loves – everyone who loves Natasha – in one room. Steve's arms are crossed and he frowns in disapproval, but Tony can't give a rat's ass what Captain America thought. "We want to save the world?" He puts it to the team. Bruce and Thor offer tentative nods, and that's good enough for him. "Good. We start by saving one of our own. It's only a victory if we all win together."

A spark lights up behind Clint's eyes. A glimmer of hope. Wordlessly, he gets to his feet and offers Tony the orange gem that sits in the palm of his hand. The Infinity Stone that Natasha gave her life for. A singularity of the birth of the universe, but a trinket compared to the singularity, the complexity, the paradox that is Natasha Romanoff.

As Tony takes the Stone from Clint's hand, a silent understanding passes between the two of them. They would trade all six Infinity Stones, a hundred times over, for Natasha's life and think it a bargain.

"New mission, team," he announces. It's a side quest in the grand scheme of the fate of the world, but it's also the only quest that's ever mattered. Because what good is saving the world if Natasha isn't in it? He adjusts the coordinates on the time travel machine and sets a course to Vormir. "We're gonna get Natasha back." Or he would die trying. Either way, he promises silently, I'll see you soon, honey.