I'll gladly write you some Phlint-y goodness but everything here is unbeta'd.I also accept headcanons. Just tell me if its a headcanon. Same goes for Meet Uglies and Submissions.
Hello! I know the world is in chaos right now, but the Philippine people need your help!
The PH government is trying to pass the “Anti-Terror Bill” and what you need to know is that the bill is going to basically penalize those who will propose, incite, conspire, participate in the planning, training, preparation, and facilitation of a terrorist act.
Under the anti-terrorism bill, activities that can be interpreted as “terrorism” include:
1. Damage or alleged damage to gov’t property;
2. Assault or attempted assault;
3. Purchase or carrying a knife or anything that can be used as a weapon;
4. Meet-ups, suspicion of plotting against gov’t;
5. Donating or helping relief drives that aren’t government/state-recognized;
6. Participating in a rally or any movement that can cause a “serious risk to public safety”;
7. Posting, writing, sharing and/or retweeting posts (even memes) related to “terrorist activities”;
Punishable by 12 years in jail to life imprisonment; warrantless arrest minimum 24 days; wiretapping and/or state surveillance.“
This means that speaking out against the government will be considered a terrorist act, even as a joke.
PLEASE HELP US. I’M DESPERATE.
I DONT KNOW HOW MUCH THIS WILL HELP, BUT PLEASE SIGN THE PETITION.
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Phil stared at Clint who, at the very least, had the decency to look apologetic. Clint stared back at Phil, then to the creature currently sleeping on his bed, then back to Phil.
“Um...” Clint started, opening his mouth and then promptly closing it for a lack of anything good to say.
Phil slowly closed the door, leaving Clint alone with the creature. Clint frowned. That was weird. He expected Phil to blow his top off and scream at Clint until the sun had long since set. Not... whatever that reaction was.
Dragons had long since been the scourge of their little town and every person in town had been trained since birth to hunt and kill the menacing creatures. Clint had been one of them. He is one of them. No, no. the first one was right. He was one of them. He didn’t want to hunt dragons anymore. He wouldn’t.
Clint had met the dragon currently sleeping on his bed a few weeks ago. someone had managed to shoot several arrows at two of its wings and it was hiding in a cave hidden deep in the forest. It looked small, weak and defenceless, the complete opposite of what Clint was taught.
Clint had every intention of killing the creature, but the look it gave him made him pause. The dragon had done nothing wrong and was so scared it hid in the depths of the forest, rather than risk being seen by the humans if it tried to ask for help from the other dragons. Clint took pity and left it alone.
He came back the next day carrying a basket of fish, intending to give it to the dragon but no matter how much coaxing Clint did, the dragon did not seem interested in the food. So with a sigh, Clint decided to leave the fish, hoping that the dragon eventually would eat something.
Clint was pleasantly surprised to find that the fish he had brought the day before was gone the next day. So, as carefully as he could he placed another pile of fish near the dragon and left it alone. Clint had fed the dragon every day for a week until it was strong enough to walk around on its own. It was a proud moment for Clint, watching the dragon take its first few steps toward Clint. The dragon had offered him a fish from the pile that Clint had provided, and waited until Clint took a pretend-bite out of the raw fish. The dragon had seemed satisfied and so did Clint.
He knew he shouldn’t have, but he named the dragon Lucky. It was fitting, Clint thought. The dragon was lucky to not be mortally wounded by the arrows, and he was also lucky that Clint was the one that found him. Now though, Clint was starting to reconsider exactly how lucky Lucky was.
The door slammed open with a wide-eyed, panting Phil on the other side. “Can I touch it?” He asked, with an almost crazy tone in his voice. Phil seemed excited to see the dragon rather than cautious and wary.
“Um...” Was all Clint could say.
“Okay, not touch. Can I just sit next to it and observe? I promise I won’t disturb it.” Phil promised, his hands clutching the notebook that Clint had missed the first time.
“I guess...? But lock the door behind you. I don’t want anyone else bursting in here.”
Phil grinned wide and barricaded the door before he grabbed a chair and sat a respectful distance away from the dragon. He opened a page in his notebook and began writing, occasionally glancing up to stare at Lucky. Guess Lucky really is lucky. Clint sometimes wished Phil looked at him like that. Fat chance that happens though.
“Are... Aren’t you, um, going to tell the elders about him?” Clint asked.
“No! Of course not!” Phil answered without missing a beat. “If I did that I won’t be able to study dragons as closely as I am now! Seriously, I’ve never been this close to a living, breathing dragon outside of the arena. He looks almost gentle.”
“He is.” Clint went up to his bed, and sat next to Lucky, stroking its chin. Lucky started softly wagging his tail. “He’s the sweetest, and best boy in the world, aren’t you, Lucky?”
Lucky licked Clint’s face, making Clint laugh and Lucky nuzzle into the boy’s neck. Clint pushed Lucky’s face away enough, so he could kiss the dragon’s snout. “My best, best, boy”
Clint turned to Phil once again to find that the other boy was staring at him with a look that almost seemed like longing, but that seemed unlikely. When their eyes locked though, Phil quickly looked down at his notebook and started writing. Clint decided not to mention the fact that Phil’s ears were bright red.
“What are you writing, anyway?” Clint asked instead.
“Hmm, oh. Observations, mainly. Things I can remember about the few times that I’ve battled dragons. There’s so much we can learn about them.”
Clint thought it over for a minute before he opened his mouth again, “I can teach you what I’ve learned.” Phil perked up at the offer, “If you promise to keep Lucky a secret from everyone else.”
I know it’s a week late, but ya girl’s found a job! LOL. I was preoccupied with settling in that I couldn’t log in to tumblr (Also the school I work at now has the firewall set up so I can’t go on tumblr on their network. Booooo!)
ANYWAY! Here are the winners!
Congratulations @ashleywynn (3k fic) and @gunsknivesandplaid (2k fic)!! Message me with your fic prompts!!! :)
(This is not a Yuri On Ice!AU because its been forever since I watched that anime and I don’t remember it aside from it was gay. Also, sidenote: I know jackshit about ice skating, okay? so this is the part where you suspend disbelief. Stop the video at 3:05 btw.)
“Honestly, Tasha, what even makes you think your coach is gonna let me be your partner?” Clint jogged to catch up to Natasha, entering the rink. The cold air quickly soaked through his skin and he had to zip his hoodie up. “I thought he was a hard-ass.”
“He is.” Natasha answered nonchalantly as she placed her bag down and started doing mild stretches. “But he’s also one of the best coaches in the country. Which means, if he thinks you’re good enough to be my partner, then you’re good enough to win us a gold medal.”
“So, no pressure” Clint said, rolling his eyes at her and dropping his bag next to Natasha’s things.
“Exactly.” Natasha clapped him on the back and turned to the two gentlemen talking amongst themselves on the bleachers. “Coach Coulson! Over here! I brought you fresh meat.”
Clint resisted the urge to groan at being called ‘fresh meat’ and focused on looking presentable. Coulson, the shorter man of the two, mousy brown hair, and crow’s feet on the corner of his eyes, said something to the other guy before walking over towards where Natasha and Clint were.
“Romanov, you’re 10 minutes late.” He said, in lieu of a greeting. “Start your warming up on the ice.”
“Yessiiiiir” Natasha drawled, but did as she was told anyway.
Clint felt like he should be standing at attention when Coulson looked him up and down. His gaze was so intense that it was like Coulson was trying to size him up for his costume with just his eyes.
“-ame?” Clint shook his head as his ears caught the tail end of a question.
“Sorry?”
“Your name. What is it?” Coulson asked again, his crow’s feet deepening as he smirked.
“Clint. Clint Barton.”
“Okay. And how do you know Natasha, Clint?”
“We have a few classes in uni together.”
“And you skate?”
“Not competitively, but I know how to.”
“He used to run with acrobats and gymnasts, he’s pretty flexible!” Natasha said as she passed them both by, waggling her eyebrows for good measure. How kind of Natasha to announce to the entire rink that he’s ‘flexible’. Clint felt his face heat and tried not to hide behind his hands. Instead, he just closed his eyes and sighed.
“Do you know any moves?” Coulson asked, as if he didn’t hear anything Natasha had said.
“I know the names of the common skating moves, and I can probably land them 40% of the time.” Clint explained. His foster mom was a retired ice skater so he learned from her.
“He’s lying! I haven’t seen him fall on his ass yet!” Natasha yelled again as she skated by.
“Natasha’s comments aside, I think I’d like to see you skate for myself."
“Um- Natasha and I actually practiced her routine from last year to show you. If you’d like, we could do that.” Clint offered. “We thought since you were probably going to be partnering me up with Natasha if I do manage to impress you, then I might as well show you what I can do with couples skating, right?”
“You can do the whole routine?” Coulson asked.
“It might not be up to your standards yet, but I’ve definitely got the steps down.”
“Good. You’re skating with me.” Coulson nodded.
“Wait, but- It’s Natasha’s piece isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry. I choreographed it, and trained her. I probably know that routine just as much as she does. And what better way to assess your skills than to skate with you.”
---
Clint shook the nerves off, and entered the ice. Coulson had everyone get off the ice, so they could move freely. That meant that everyone who was practicing was now watching Clint and Coulson, probably waiting for Clint to mess up so they could go back to practicing.
Clint turned to where Natasha was in a final attempt of salvation but the redhead just gave him two thumbs up.
He’s got nothing to worry about. He’s done this routine with Natasha enough times, that he should be able to do it relatively well. Just... please don’t let him drop Coulson.
“Ready?” Coulson asked, mirth twinkling in his eyes.
“No.” Clint answered automatically.
“Great. Let’s do this.” Coulson took his coat off and so did Clint. He took Clint’s hand and led them both to the center where they laid down.
Clint was staring up at the ceiling, and Coulson was beside him, curled into himself and away from Clint. The music started and Phil rolled over to straddle Clint and quickly roll off to his other side. Clint did the same but got up just as he straddled Coulson. Phil arched his back and spread his arms as he sat up, letting Clint pull him up and in an embrace. Phil put his arms behind Clint’s head, holding on as Clint picked him up and spun them around.
Phil gave Clint a small curtsy as he was placed gingerly back on the ice. He gave Clint his right hand, and Clint took it, his left hand resting on Phil’s hip. They skated like that, looking like they were lovers walking hand-in-hand in a park.
The routine was a story about lovers who were beginning to drift apart, reminiscing the times when they were still very much in love. Which was probably why a lot of the moves had them pulling at each other to get closer, Phil clinging to Clint, or Clint holding on to Phil. The only real time they weren’t holding on to each other was when they had to dance in sync near the end of the song, and even then, they were only apart for maybe fifteen seconds out of a three minute routine before they were back to holding each other’s hands.
In the last few seconds of the song, Clint let go of Phil and skated on his own, leaving Phil to follow him and catch up. As soon as Phil was in front of Clint, he put his hands on Clint’s face, cradling it, and bringing their foreheads together, their lips only inches apart. Clint placed one hand on top of Phil’s holding it in place, and the other was on the small of his back, pulling Phil closer to him.
They stayed like that until the song faded. Frozen in place with the other’s touch, gaze, and breaths. It felt like they couldn’t move away. They didn’t want to. They stared at each other, silently daring the other to move first, a dangerous game of chicken. Clint’s eyes darted to Phil’s lips, tempting him to move. Phil continued to stare, waiting.
The people on the bleachers started cheering, breaking whatever it was that kept them from moving, and they broke apart. Clint heaved a big sigh of relief and smiled at Coulson.
Coulson gave him an approving nod, and held his hand out. “Welcome to the team, Clint. I look forward to working with you and Natasha.” Clint took his hand and shook it. “Okay, everyone, back to practice.”
Everybody started filing in to the ice, returning to their respective practice areas.
Clint remained where he was, still processing what had happened.
“You know,” Natasha said as she approached him, circling him like the shark that she was, “I’m pretty sure that routine was supposed to end with the two of you lying on the floor. Not Touching. like at all.”
Clint opened his mouth to explain himself but closed it right back for a lack of an excuse.
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The last time you posted consistently was roughly two years ago. What happened?
Well, as with most people online suddenly disappearing, Real Life got in the way. Since dropping the ball on promptmephlint, I graduated university (BA in Diplomatic Affairs y’all!!), went farther away from home to take my Masters in Human Rights, and graduated that as well. Ya girl has a Master’s degree! I can officially claim that any and all inconvenience to be a human rights violation. I’m kidding, don’t do that, kids. That’s a horrible use of your education. Anyway, I am now looking for a job (Please, anyone, give me a job! Im willing to ove to the other side of the globe, or wherever you are. Im tired of being a NEET) so I can be a productive member of society.
I’ve also started a youtube channel! Which currently has maybe three videos of me playing beat saber. that’s it. no other video on there. lol.
Good for you. Now, are you actually planning to abandon this blog or...?
No, I’m not abandoning this blog! It’s my baby!! I don’t have concrete plans to come back yet, because it will all depend on how motivated I am to write every night. I’m going to make it a point to fill a prompt at least once a week though!
Weren’t there two of you? Didn’t you get another person to help you out for specifically this reason?
Hannes had some real world commitment they had to prioritize. Which is understandable. I didn’t want the blog to be the reason why they were so stressed and couldn’t focus on real world responsibilities. So I let them go. Also I thought I could go back to regularly posting after they left, but turns out I couldn’t. Whoops?
Why can’t you just go back to posting every day like you used to?
Listen here, you little shit, I don’t owe you notihin’ (JK, I’ve just always wanted to start a sentence like that LOL) Seriously though, as much as I would love to do that again (because lets be real, those days were peak-productivity-Anna. I MISS HER SO MUCH) I just don’t have the drive to do it every night anymore. I mean, I try, but sometimes the words just won’t cooperate, you know?
Fair enough. Anything else?
YES!
I’m gonna do a fic giveaway! at the end of this month (May)! I’ll sort details out during this week, and I’ll post the official rules and shit on here, So watch out for that!!!
please please please continue the half-assassin AU!!
Yo, y’all gotta help me out on this one. which one is the half-assassin au?? I’ve written so many things, and my memory is utter garbage, I can’t even remember ten of em! If you know which one is the half-assassin au one, send me the title or a link and I’ll love you forever!
At the time when you sent this.... No. lol. idek when this was sent, but I’m gonna assume last year, coz the messages before this one were for New Years. lol
hi this is cloud from long ago. just saying hi because i got the ”theyre posting again” notification. hope you’re doin good
Hi CLoud! How’ve you been?! I missed your messages, bud! I’m doin okay, thanks for asking. I’mma update y’all in a separate post about what I’ve been doin this past year? two years?? and if I’m bringing the blog back, but for now, this is it. Byyyeeee
Here’s a story for all y’all. Hope you like it. The only warning is that it’s sort of image heavy.
More notes on the ao3!!!
Bug yawned for the third time in the last five minutes. It's 4:30 in the morning and he's been in the airport for the last three hours waiting to board his flight back home. He's at the last stretch of his journey though, and in a couple of hours, he'll be safe in his room in the warm embrace of his bed. He trudged along the aisle, looking for his seat. As he approached his seat, he noticed that there was already a man sitting on the seat next to his. Bug didn't pay it any mind. He was tired, and he just wanted to get this flight over with so he could return to the love of his life: his bed.
He took his headphones out and placed his backpack in the overhead bin. As he sat down, the speakers came alive with the pilot's voice, "Uh, Ladies and Gentlemen, good morning. I have just been informed by air traffic control that we'll be delayed a few minutes due to the congestion of air traffic. Rest assured, ladies and gentlemen, that we'll be able to take off as soon as we get the green light. Thank you."
Great. A delay. Should he be surprised? No, not at all. Is he still slightly miffed? Definitely.
Bug sighed, but buckled up and prepared for the wait. He took out his phone and checked the time, only to realize that his phone had died from the three hours of use in the airport. Great. Absolutely wonderful. Now, what was he supposed to do? He picked up the magazine on the seat pocket in front of him and skimmed through it. He'd already read this one. Fuck. Okay, what about the Emergency and Safety card? It was mostly diagrams and he was sure he'd finish reading and re-reading it in five minutes.
Well, that left...
Bug looked at the man beside him. He looked like he was somewhere around his forties, maybe fifties. He was dressed in a clean cut black suit that fit his shoulders nicely. He wore a red tie and a white button down. Probably an accountant or something, Bug told himself. As if he could sense someone was looking at him, the man turned to Bug. Bug at least had the decency to look away and admire the cabin lights. They were very bright. The man turned to his work again and started typing.
Bug didn't want to get caught staring but there was nothing else to do and he could side-eye what the man was writing, so of course, he was going to read it.
Barton... Like the Avenger, Barton? Oh, this was definitely more interesting than staring at the cabin lights.
The man's fingers hovered over his keys as if he was unsure of what to type next.
It's a good start, Bug thought to himself. The tone was nice and light. From this alone, Bug could tell that this man had once been good friends with Barton. They had their little inside joke and everything!
Bug looked up from the screen and watched the man's face. He looked almost bored. But the contents of the mail said otherwise so Bug looked closer. The man's jaw tensed every so often and his fingers were slightly shaking over the keyboard. He was trying to make it sound like it was just a friendly e-mail.
Bug felt sad for the man. It was obvious that he still felt guilty for something he did. And it was obvious that he was still in love with Barton. From the tone of his letter, the man seemed satisfied just being Barton's friend. It seemed like he's accepted that fact a long time ago.
Bug had always thought that when he grew up, he'd have everything figured out. The adults around him at least made it seem like they had everything figured out. He just thought that by the time he was this man's age, he wouldn't have to worry about juvenile things like unrequited love, and pining, and heartache. Turns out, the opposite was true. This man looked like the most competent accountant Bug has ever seen and he still held his cards so close to his chest, unable to let go, and hurting, all at once.
Bug wanted to hug the man.
Bug opened his mouth to tell the man to rewrite his letter. He knew it wasn't his place, and he knew that the man is more than likely to lash out at him for reading, but Bug wanted him to know that he didn't have to hurt like this. He could tell Barton the truth and- and-
"Folks, we just received the green light from air traffic control. Please return to your seats and buckle up." The pilot said over the speakers, making Bug and the man look up from the screen.
The man closed the tab and shut his laptop off, tucking it away for safe keeping, and looking out the window. Bug sighed quietly. He supposed there was really nothing he could say to change the man's mind. It wasn't Bug's business anyway. Maybe it was for the best that he sent what he did. It just seemed like such a shame that Barton was going to go the rest of his life without knowing how deeply this man loved him.
The mail Barton was going to read was not going to be as honest as the draft the man had written because, in the rough draft, he loved him.
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Clint opened his eyes blearily and felt the panic sink into his bones in the second that followed. They were ambushed. The intel was wrong and there were so much more hostiles than they anticipated. It was 30 to 1, and there were only 5 of them. They didn’t stand a chance.
He pushed himself off of the surface he was lying on and felt someone’s hand on his chest, steadying and calming him all at the same time.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s me. It’s Phil. You’re in the med bay now.”
Clint felt himself relax as he listened to Phil. He eased himself back down on the bed and looked at the man beside his cot. Phil gave him a soft nod and gave him a play by play of the events after Clint passed out.
Clint’s team fought admirably and stood their ground long enough for back-up to respond. SHIELD managed to capture most of the hostiles and the ones that weren’t were either dead or too severely injured to have gone far. The four other people in Clint’s team are alive. Beaten, and bloody, some worse than the others, but alive.
Phil rambled on about the procedure for filling out the report for this since it was going to be especially challenging for Clint to write with a broken wrist. Clint listened to him without actually registering anything in his brain, and he smiled to himself.
“...or speech to text but that’s not really reliable— What’s so funny?” Phil asked.
Clint shrugged as far as he could, “Nothing,” he replied with a smile, his eyes slowly slipping shut again. “S’just nice that your voice is the first thing I hear today” His painkiller addled brain supplied.
There was silence for a moment too long and Clint was forced to open his eyes again to see what was wrong. He peeked at Phil, and as soon as their eyes met, Phil looked away and cleared his throat.
“Right. I should check on the others. Your team, I mean. See if they’re awake.” Phil went on as he shuffled his things together and headed for the door.
Clint felt horrible. Did he say something wrong again? Why was Phil in a hurry to leave? Couldn’t Phil just stay a little bit longer?
“I’ll- I’ll come back. Later. I’ll keep you company. But I have to check on the others first.” Phil told him. Guess Clint was speaking his thoughts out loud now. “I promise I won’t be long.”
Clint nodded, feeling himself drift to sleep not a minute later. It’s okay though because he knows that when he wakes up, Phil will be there.
(Can anyone recommend a fun thing to do when you’re stuck at an airport for 7hrs?)
The bell on the door rang, signalling Clint’s first customer of the night. Seeing as how it was a Thursday night, Clint didn’t have to look up to see who it was.
“Hi, Phil,” Clint greeted with a smile.
Phil smiled back, and headed straight for his usual seat at the bar. “I’ll have my usual, please.”
Clint reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of the local brew, popping it open before placing it on a coaster in front of Phil, “Tough week, huh?”
“Hellish is more like it.” Phil rolled his eyes. “I’m just glad it’s over, you know?”
“You and me both.” Clint huffed.
“Insane customers, again?” Phil asked before he took a sip from his bottle.
“It’s those Tracksuit Draculas. Every other day, they come in after I’ve explicitly told them the last time that they were banned, and all they say is,” Clint changed his tone to mimic the Tracksuit Dracula, although his accent might have been a bit exaggerated, “Bro”
Phil laughed wholeheartedly, imagining Clint’s frustration towards the unruly regulars at Sherwood.
Phil stumbled upon Sherwood a few months back. He had just been assigned the Hawkeye case that month and his leads were getting him nowhere. He was just about to give up for the night when he spotted the bright purple neon arrow sign a block away and decided, a beer couldn’t hurt.
He was only supposed to go in, have a beer, and head home to start on a fresh trail but he ended up staying until last call. Clint Barton was a charming young man with more than a handful of colorful stories. There wasn’t a dull second that Phil could remember that night. After that, Phil came to Sherwood at least once a week, whether he was alone or with his friends.
“Like that’s going to change my mind,” Clint shook his head in annoyance. “Anyway, what about you? what made your week so terrible?”
“Another dead end,” Phil sighed, “I’m starting to think the suspect I’m looking for isn’t even real. Like, they just sent me on a wild goose chase, you know? I mean how am I supposed to find a guy when the only thing I know about him is his alias?”
“I’m sure, as horrible as bosses can be, they wouldn’t do that to you. You’re their best detective. They just gave you the hard cases is all.” The door rang softly, and Clint turned to the new patrons, “Be with you in a sec.” He turned back to Phil and gave him a reassuring smile, “I’m sure you’ll get a break in the case soon. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Phil used the time Clint was busy to nurse his beer. He technically wasn’t lying to Clint. He was looking for someone who’s killed people before. And he did technically work for the government. Clint assumed that he was a detective when they first met, so Phil just rolled with it.
---
A few hours had passed and Phil’s friends had finally shown up, each with their own story of woe from that week. Customers started piling up after the first hour and Phil hasn’t had a chance to speak with Clint again. Not that he minded. He’s sure it was tough running the bar on his own. Phil was just as happy to watch Clint work.
Jasper was waxing poetic about something Melinda said to him in the break room when the door opened and a familiar face walked in - Ms. Juliet Prisco - a regular in the black market scene and has more than once, employed Hawkeye. If anyone could tell him where Hawkeye was, she could.
He watched her as subtly as he could. It seemed Ms. Prisco was not alone, Phil thought to himself, noting the four guys scattered around the bar, seemingly searching for someone. Phil was just about to offer the lady a drink when he noticed her henchmen going through the back door with her leading the way.
Phil excused himself and headed for the door but it was locked. Phil was pretty sure that led to the back - he’s seen Clint bring out the trash through that door - and he could probably catch her and her goons if he ran.
Phil raced for the front door and was already in the alley when he heard the telltale sounds of a fist fight. Someone slammed into the dumpster, followed by a body hitting the wall. There were a few grunts and groans, but hopefully no one was dead. Phil still needed to interrogate them, after all.
Phil turned the corner with his hand on his gun only to be faced by the barrel of another gun. That turn of events wasn’t as surprising to him as finding out who held the gun.
“Phil?” Clint asked, surprise clear on his face, “Shit, I almost shot you I’m so sorry,” He pulled the gun away quickly. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Clint had Juliet in a one-armed choke-hold while the rest of her goons laid on the ground, unconscious. Juliet used the momentary distraction Phil served, and bit Clint’s arm, making Clint let go of her with a yelp.
“Okay, now you’re just being childish.” Clint frowned, inspecting the bite mark for any real cuts. He released the magazine from the gun and cocked the bullet out of the barrel. He pocketed all of the bullets and handed the empty gun to Juliet. “As I’ve said before, I’m done with that life. Find someone else, and if any of you come back one more time, I swear I won’t pull my punches.”
Juliet looked like a peeved off spoiled brat, but eventually stomped away.
“Um...” Clint started, turning to face Phil again, “That was... uh...”
Phil stared at him for another second before saying, “You’re Hawkeye.”
He wasn’t accusing Clint of anything. He was simply stating a fact. Clint, on his part looked unsurprised.
ALWAYS REBLOG WHEN YOU SEE SOMETHING LIKE THIS PLEASE; ITS SO MUCH MORE THAN IMPORTANT TO PEOPLE. IT MEANS EVERYTHING TO SOMEBODY AND EVEN THOUGH YOU MIGHT NOT SEE THIS IN THE SAME LIGHT, SOMEONE MIGHT. INFACT YOU REBLOGGING THIS COULD STOP SOMEONE TAKING THEIR LIFE TONIGHT.
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Part one || Part two)
“Hi, my name is Stacy, and my sister has a question for Tony Stark.” The girl dressed as Harry Potter said.
“Yes, of course, but first, Is your mom around?” Tony asked in jest, waggling his eyebrows for effect.
A few members of the audience, the slightly older ones, laughed. Stacy, meanwhile, rolled her eyes good-naturedly, like this wasn’t the first time she’s heard the joke.
“Anyway, my sister is ten this year, and she’s taken an interest in inventing. She adores Iron Man so much, that she wants to make her own armor. Do you have any advice for her?”
“Yes, make sure to take care of the cooling problem. and... um- I’m sorry, Barton, what are you doing?”
Clint paused, mid-gesture to turn to Tony, “Signing?”
“Why? Don’t they usually have an ASL Translator at events?” Bruce asked.
The team turned to Phil who was standing offstage and talking to someone on his earpiece. After a second, he shook his head at the Avengers.
“I tried to look for one before I started, but I couldn’t find one,” Clint shrugged, “Besides, I figure, it might be easier for Stacy’s sister if she can read what you’re saying as well as hear it.” Clint lightly tapped on the hearing aid he wore, the little girl beside Stacy, dressed up like a tiny Draco Malfoy beamed when Clint winked at her, “besides, i don’t mind. It gives me something to do with my hands.”
“Still though, next time they should hire translators for huge events like these,” Steve commented, “Make them more inclusive, you know?”
“Hey, if y’all are hiring, hit me up.” Clint joked, getting most of the room to laugh. “Anyway, let’s go back to the question. Tony, you were saying?”
“I don’t remember what I was saying...” Tony frowned.
“You were saying something about the cooling systems.” Stacy reminded.
“Oh yeah. So, fix that up before you take it for a test flight. Also, remember to choose an awesome color scheme for the armor because style goes a long way. Not Red and Gold though, that’s mine.” The crowd laughed, and Tony smiled.
“Next Question” The panel head said.
Stacy thanked the Avengers, and dragged her sister back to their seats, but not before the little girl could look back and thank Clint for signing. Clint smiled, and signed back, ‘No problem’
Clint, for the rest of the panel, continued to sign happily, even after he saw the sisters leave the Hall. Steve was right though, events like these should really hire translators.
(Me and my cousins are doing a photoshoot tomorrow for a thing, and I finally get to practice my photography skills!)
Phil strolled into the Avengers kitchen humming along to a tune in his head he couldn’t quite remember the title of. He headed straight for the fridge to grab a bottled water, and then to the pantry for some chips. He was about to head back out when the sight of the Avengers all frozen, all staring at him, made him pause. “Good Evening.”
“Agent,” Tony was the first to break the frozen spell they all seemed to be in, “You’re- You are Agent agent, right? Not some freak LMD SHIELD sent to monitor us? Wait, what am I saying? Agent agent is an LMD. This one is more... human.” Tony squinted suspiciously at him.
“What he meant was-” Bruce tried to interject, chopstick still halfway to his mouth.
“I meant what I said.” Tony interrupted.
Steve rolled his eyes and passed Natasha the soy sauce packet she asked for before Phil came in. “You just seem happier than usual-”
“-than the usual emotionless robot-” Tony inserted.
“-ignore Tony. Did something good happen?” Steve finished with a smile.
“I usually do. And, no. Not particularly.” Phil shrugged.
“I take offense to that.” Tony scowled at all of them. Thor gave him a friendly pat on the back, which to Tony felt a lot less friendly, and more attack-y. “Oh yeah, Have you seen Barton anywhere? He said he wanted egg rolls and I think Steve is eyeing them. So, if he doesn’t get here in the next ten minutes, he’ll- Nope, Steve is already eating one”
Steve looked up guiltily with a half eaten egg roll in his mouth. “I thought we were all just being polite and not touching it in case someone else wanted the egg rolls! I didn’t realize we were saving it for Clint”
“A likely story, Steve.” Tony leered.
“Clint is on his way up. He just got ice cream.” Phil said, “Well, I’ll be in the living room watching Wipeout if you need me.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us for dinner?” Bruce asked.
“I’m okay, thanks.” Phil smiled at Bruce before finally heading for the living room. Bruce stared after him a second longer than was polite. “He seemed-”
“-human?” Tony asked.
“-happier. I was going to say he seemed happier.”
“Don’t lie, Brucie. It’s unbecoming. We were all thinking it.”
“Hey, guys! I’m back! I bought matcha ice cream! Anyone want some?”Clint announced as he came through the threshold, holding up the paper bag in his hands.
Thor and Natasha raised their hands just as Clint placed the bag on the counter. he rummaged through the bag and took out a pint of strawberry ice cream and handed Thor the rest.
“Go crazy,” Clint gave Thor a pat on the back. “I’ll be in the living room.”
“Wait, what about your egg rolls?” Steve asked.
“Oh, uh, if you guys don’t want them, you can just put it in the fridge. I already ate with Phil.” Clint gave them a mock salute and walked out of the kitchen.
“I was not aware that Clinton and the Son of Coul were close comrades.” Thor observed, passing the bag to Natasha.
Natasha pulled out the tub of ice cream and opened it with a satisfying pop, “Well, they should be, since they’re dating.”
There was a single second of silence where the others just stared at her in surprise, then everybody scurried towards the door leading to the living room to peek.
Clint had his arm around Phil’s shoulders and Phil was feeding him ice cream. Every couple of seconds, when a contestant fell into the water, they could hear Phil snort and Clint chuckle. After a particularly hilarious fall from the big balls, Phil actually laughed out loud.
“That is surreal.” Tony commented.
“I think it’s sweet.” Bruce said,sounding a bit unsure.
“How long have they been together?” Thor asked.
“How have we not seen this though?” Steve wondered.
“I’m eating this in my room.” Natasha said, taking the tub of ice cream and a clean spoon with her and out of the kitchen. “And I’m not bringing any of it back.”
