#thedeafavenger

[aheroic]

[[ plotted starter for @thedeafavenger

Phil woke up to a world very different from the one he'd died in. A lot changed, in a wold of advanced technology, supervillains, and aliens in six years. Phil was understandably overwhelmed. The still-fresh stitches patching up his lung and chest didn't help with that. He wanted Clint and he couldn't think much further--certainly not far or clear enough to realize that after six years, his baby probably wasn't his anymore.

He had SHIELD bring him in and when he saw him in the doorway, Phil relaxed for the first time since he'd woken up. "Clint," he sighed, voice full of love and relief. "Come here." It was an order he no longer had right to give, but he didn't know that, and he said it with the same tone he always had, demanding absolute obedience from the man who was his.

[aceofstarks]

[[ plotted starter for @thedeafavenger

Tony was... Concerned. And surprised. And anxious. And, just a little bit, underneath all the rest, so excited that they were worried they might burst. They hadn't planned for any of this. They hadn't expected it. And they had no idea how their partner might react to the news.

Tony shook Clint awake, then signed, [Surprise for you,] and smiled weakly. [It was a surprise for me too.] Then they handed over the little silver gift box and sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Clint's reaction to the positive pregnancy test inside.

[directorsonofcoul]

@thedeafavenger

Phil had been deep in conversation when he noticed Clint join him, and he motioned rather distractedly for his mate to kneel next to him. It was only when he followed his superior's unimpressed gaze that he noticed his order hadn't been obeyed. It was immediately obvious that he was angry. "Clint! Down!" He pushed down on the back of Clint's neck, though it was awkward and embarrassing to have to do so, and used his foot to force his knees to bend.

[doingyourjobbetter]

@thedeafavenger

"Sweet pea? Are you going to be good for me tonight?" She'd been teasing him all day--had been changing the settings on the vibrator she'd stuffed into him this morning and had been giving him more and more difficult tasks with each check-in, hoping to distract him and give him something to accomplish and feel proud of himself at the end of the day.

[originalwizkid]

@thedeafavenger

Harry had met people, after being shipped off to what the Dursleys described as a home for delusional troublemakers. He'd met people who had been the heroes of their fairy tale worlds, people who had been villains or conquerers. People who had just been happy to live in places where they were wanted. He'd met people who had been expelled from their worlds, people who couldn't find their doors anymore. But he'd also met one person who had spent years researching doors and worlds--found as many stable and semi-stable doors as existed. Harry hadn't been particularly interested in that at first, because he loved his world. As frightening as it was sometimes, as stressful as the fame could be, he felt right there. Like he was always meant to be in the wizarding world. Like he wasn't really him when he was anywhere else.

But now his world had decided that he was attention-seeking and trouble-making just like his aunt and uncle had. They'd asked him to fight a dragon. Harry had run, and he'd bedn grateful for his friend who had researched doors, because he knew his world could chase him back if he only went back to his original one. He ran further. He ran through a door, knowing only that it was supposed to be a place similar enough that he could figure things out. And then the door closed behind him.

Harry tried his best to make do for himself, but everything was just a little bit uncomfortable and a lot strange and he was a teenager in London with nothing but his wand and his backpack. He made it about a week, but even without the ministry to pick up on unauthorized use of magic, apparently there was someone here who could sense it. He couldn't outrun these secret-agent people, and the next thing he knew, he was stuck in a strange-looking cell. Without anything.

[ccmplicatedweb]

midnight visit

[ semi-plotted starter for @thedeafavenger ]

         He looked… soft, like this, cozy and sleep-rumpled. Mouth drooped open slightly, a dampness of drool beneath it, arm bent at an awkward angle that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, the street light coming in through the gaps in the blinds catching on his stubble and on the hairs on his arms.

         Natasha almost backtracked, almost decided to set up camp on Clint’s floor so there would be no chance of disturbing him. Yet, she loathed sleeping alone more than she did briefly awaking him. No matter how much she didn’t want to admit it out loud, Clint made her feel safe in a way so few people and things did, and she needed it, especially after two whole weeks in enemy territory all by herself, a few days of them being brutally beaten.

         Silently, she stripped out of the clothes she’d come over in, adding them to an already formed heap on the floor, and fished out of Clint’s closet a shirt that was a garish purple with a sauce stain, a discolored patch on the neckline where he must have used the wrong product, and threads coming loose at every corner. But it was soft, and it came halfway down her thighs and it smelled like him rather than like blood and human waste or the stink of the floor of her cell. All in all, perfect.

         Natasha lifted the corner of the blankets on the other side of the bed, his back turned to her. Painfully slowly, she climbed in, ignoring the protests of the welts on her back or of the awfully soreness of her muscles. She turned on her side and shuffled forward, until she could press her forehead between Clint’s shoulder blades, her hand shyly coming to rest on his waist.

[theamazingcaptdeadpool]

That one time Wade spammed Clint...

[sms:] Just a quick reminder that no matter how long and sullen silences you go for or… missions as you like to call them. [sms:] Heh. [sms:] I think I just had an epiphany. [sms:] Or maybe that’s the coffee… [sms:] I’m still your friend. You can’t think me away. I SUPER GLUE! [sms:] I’ll always be your friend. [sms:] Unless you tell me otherwise. [sms:] Please don’t. [sms:] Or at least give a guy a heads up so he can stack up on blow. [sms:] Anyways… where was I? [sms:] Hang on, I’m just going to read back. [sms:] Got sidetracked – had to check up on my storage. [sms:] Okay! [sms:] Here’s the thing. [sms:] If you ever find yourself suffering from PTSD anywhere ever again. [sms:] And you get those chaotic thoughts of “no one will ever show” because what ever stupid reason you create for yourself… [sms:] Know this. [sms:] Are you listening? [sms:] Wait – that’s weird. [sms:] READING. I meant reading. [sms:] Are you reading mah words? [sms:] Pay attention now. [sms:] This is IMPORTANT. [sms:] Though I’ll remind you as much as you ever need. [sms:] Because I’m good like that.  

[sms:] I’d show. [sms:] Any time. Any place. I’d drop what I was holding – unless it’s a baby or a puppy, those I’d gently put down. [sms:] And I’d be there. [sms:] I don’t know where you are right now. But I needed you to know. [sms:] And try not to forget;  [sms:] I love you, Hawkguy.

This is for you, @thedeafavenger  <3

[phasingal]

[ @thedeafavenger liked this for an angsty starter ]

         “Hey, hey, hey, look at me!” Instead of restricting Clint’s flailing limbs, Gal brought her hands to each side of his face, both as a way to ground him to the present and to make him look her. Despite her scarred hands and her split knuckles, her touch was nothing but gentle. They had removed one of Clint’s hearing aids while he was unconscious, having left the other at Gal’s request – it was shitty enough to wake up in a hospital after God knows what, doing so without one of your senses was even worse. 

        “You’re okay”, she said, firm yet kind, making sure that her expression remained calm and sure in case he hadn’t really started processing sounds yet. This wasn’t the first time she tried to soothe someone waking up injured, and she’d found that not letting her face betray panic or concern worked twice better than any words of assurance. “You’re fine. You’re at the infirmary at SHIELD. You’re safe.”