#wonderful anon
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Dearest Anon; thank you for your kind gift of no ads. I can’t quiet articulate on what it means but know I’ll try and find a way to pass it forward.
Whilst you mentioned it wasn’t needed, I wanted some way to say thank you. So, what follows is some Clint/Nat hurt/comfort and them taking care of each other. I hope the rest of the week greets you kindly. And if it doesn’t know that I’m rooting for you. 💜💜
secret languages.
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: blood/dissociation
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“Tash,” Clint whispers, “come on, we’re almost there, one foot in front of the other.”
Blood drops from her fingers and she focuses on his words.
“Yeah. That’s it,” his words dutifully guiding her forward.
“Come on, two more steps.”
She takes the final step to his loft and looks balefully at him.
He knows words won’t come easily and even following instructions need to be broken down into manageable components.
His body feels so heavy.
Clint feels like if it wasn’t for her, he would be just crashing on the couch with the fallout from the mission.
The bruise on his left cheek darkening and gravel rash on his thigh smarting.
He leads the way, unlocking the door and guiding her inside.
She stops once through the threshold, unsure of her movements.
Grabbing a towel from the pile of washing he’d never put away, he lays it strategically to cover the sofa.
“Sit,” he commands softly.
She doesn’t even watch as he moves around; her vision tunnelled as she drops blood onto the wooden floorboards.
Taking her hand, he guides her to sit on the couch.
He doesn’t think it’s a concussion, likely not anything permanent.
Clint hopes not anyway.
Squatting next to her, he unzips her top.
There’s a moment where he thinks she might resist, instead she closes her eyes, and blocks him out.
“Sorry, I should have said,” he tells her, and helps her take her suit off her shoulders down to her waist.
She shivers.
Clint stands and puts the heater on, grabbing a blanket to place over her legs, another towel and the suture kit.
“Nat, I need you to tell me when it hurts okay?”
Even as he says it, he knows she won’t.
She looks at him, but he thinks it’s only because he’s spoken.
Only in a bra, she shivers again, and he apologises, placing the blanket over her lap.
The cut runs from her shoulder to her elbow, weeps; the bruising on her face is accompanied by swelling, just like his.
Clint wants a shower, and wonders if she wants one too. He feels sticky and can smell his sweat when he moves.
“I smell,” he comments on a whim, hoping for something, anything other than unfocused eyes.
He hates it; but he understands it.
“Okay,” he says under his breath, “we’ve got this, just some stitches and maybe some painkillers, then a shower and bed, okay?”
He says it like a checklist himself, like it’s that easy, but he knows that it’s not.
The small kit for stitching is ready next to the sofa, and he reaches for it.
Poor fine motor skills and a tremor in his hands makes it crash to the floor and Natasha flinches.
“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, picking it up.
He focuses on her, trying to gauge what and how’s she’s feeling but apart from being nonverbal, her body language gives nothing away.
“Okay, Nat, I’m going to wipe the blood okay? The towel is scratchy.”
Clint wipes it down, the wound not too deep but almost instantly refilling with blood.
“Now, this will sting, it’s the alcohol wipe,” he says as he dabs a small bit then looks up.
No reaction.
Eyes watch the wall.
He tries to give as much information as he can, and likewise it almost helps to ground him.
The piercing of her skin with the hooked needle makes his face contort; and even though it’s met by no reaction, he still hates that it’s him that’s hurting her.
“Okay, it’s started,” he narrates.
“Hook… tie… snip,” he tells himself, doing the action and then looking up to check again.
She’s watching now.
It must hurt.
Or at the very least pierced her subconscious.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and then looks back down the the wound.
“Maybe four to go,” he tells her.
“Nat? Does it hurt?”
Clint glances at her back, his gravel rash from being dragged by a motor bike seems nothing to the staircase fall down a fire escape.
He’d watched in horror, but she’d just gotten up and ran, motioning for him to do the same.
Gas in the building, their escape had been quick.
Hers had been frantic.
He’s not even sure if it touched her, but the fear was real.
“Nat, does it hurt?” he asks again, three stitches to go.
On the last stitch, he ties it off, wipes it down again, then stands to get an ice pack.
As he stands, she vomits everywhere, just missing Clint.
“Fuck,” he swears.
He grabs her and pushes her to the bathroom, the smell overpowering, as he wonders just what was left in her from their meal the night before.
He sits her on the toilet, handing her a bin.
“Do you still feel sick?” he asks.
“Nauseous?”
She stares into the bottom of the bucket.
There’s an increase, only slightly, in her breathing.
Clint catches it, hoping it doesn’t escalate to a panic attack. He wonders if it means she’s going to vomit again.
Was it the gas? Or holding it together whilst he stitched her arm?
He turns the heater on.
“H..” the word doesn’t pass her lips, but the attempt does.
He nods at her her attempt.
“Yeah?”
Eyes searching, she finds his and breathes forcefully through her nose.
“Hurts,” she huffs, and looks down at the bucket, vomiting again.
“Okay.”
He leaves the room briefly, and finds the painkillers, the little packet holding big promises.
Taking it to her, he punches one out into her hand, and then gives a glass of water.
She shakes her head.
Clint knows.
He always knows.
“Watch me.”
He pushes out another tiny tablet into his own hand and downs it with the water.
He hands it back, and motions for her to do the same.
In a state like this, he gets it, and his effort is rewarded by her copying his actions.
He just hopes she doesn’t throw it up.
Two tasks down, it’s just the shower and bed.
They can do this.
He can do this.
Removing the puke bucket from her hands, he tells her to stand.
She does without thinking.
He wants to get ice on her face to decrease the bruises, he wants to be in pyjamas, he wants this day to have never have happened.
“Does anywhere else hurt?”
The question is redundant, as she doesn’t answer or even acknowledge it.
“Okay, shower,” he murmurs.
“Socks off, pants off.”
He almost doesn’t expect anything to happen, but she moves at his request.
Clint nods.
He turns the shower on, the hottest it can go, hoping it can help heat the room.
Undressing alongside her, he winces at his his own wounds, the drop of gravel onto the floor makes him think he should probably clean it, just like he did for Natasha.
He ignores it.
The shower will help.
Steam fills the bathroom.
He doesn’t think.
She grabs him, breath caught in his throat.
“No,” she squeaks, “not…”
Gas
Her words get lost again, as scared childlike eyes stare at him to help.
Clint can’t move quickly, his muscles sore and tired. He gets to the fan, and switches it on, sucking up the steam and making the room loud.
“It’s okay,” he assures, “it’s nothing, it’s the shower.”
She sits back down, breathing heavily.
“It’s okay,” he says again, “it’s the shower.”
He gives her the glass of water, thinking maybe it will help to ground her, but this time, she can’t take it, hands gripping her thighs.
“Come on,” he sighs, “quick shower.”
She shakes her head.
“I can’t.”
Torn between pushing her and honouring her request, Clint sighs and gets in the shower, watching her through the glass.
He sees her, holding herself together, and he hurries himself as much as he can.
Feeling like he can’t move quickly enough, he hurts himself in his roughness.
He swears.
It’s enough for Natasha to stand and come to the glass to check on him.
Attempting a smile, he tries to reassure her.
He opens the door, to say something and she follows him in.
She looks at him.
Really looks this time, and raises her hand to his bruised face.
Water hits her arm and pink water streams down the skink.
“Such dangerous lives we lead,” he says softly.
She avoids water on her head and he lowers the shower head so he can control it.
He washes her gently, then she takes it off him and does the same.
Clint is thankful she’s coming back.
He sighs heavily, feeling the pain pulse in his leg, as she gently cleans it.
“Think it’s time for bed,” he murmurs.
She nods, switching off the shower.
He moves to open the door.
Pulling him into a hug, Natasha hopes she conveys everything in it.
For taking care of her.
For getting her home.
She leaves first, passing him a towel, and then one for herself.
It’s slow, the descent to bed.
Natasha cleans her vomit.
Clint wraps his leg.
He passes her some juice and she takes it gratefully.
Finally, bed.
He crawls in after her and feels himself sink into the mattress.
“Mm’sorry,” Natasha says into the darkness.
He moves his body closer to hers, and touches his feet to hers.
“What happened, Nat?” he wonders out loud.
“What made you… go?”
There’s nothing for a while.
She sucks in a breath.
“It hasn’t been like that in a while… I thought… I was worried,” he finishes.
She’s silent, trying to find the words.
“There’s a room, in the Red Room, I think it’s what it’s named for. They use it and release red gas; it makes you hallucinate your greatest fears. Today...” she pauses.
“It smelt the same.”
His body stiffens.
The gas, whilst not red, had been visible, the smell permeating the world as they escaped.
He understands.
“I get lost,” she whispers. “But I know what’s happening, it’s like words are too hard and even telling myself what I need to do takes all the brain power and focus, but the alternative is worse, if I let go, if I just give in and don’t do anything, I lose time.”
Clint reaches for her hand.
“Trauma changes shape, but doesn’t really leave, huh?”
Natasha scoffs, a low release of air.
“Isn’t that just the story of my life.”
She rolls to the side.
“Thanks for stitching my arm, and getting me home,” she whispers,
“I got you,” he whispers back.
He shuffles closer to her.
“Wake me, okay? When the dreams… arrive?”
Neither of them are stupid enough to believe that that dreams won’t come.
Natasha rests her head on his chest.
“Yeah,” she yawns.
“I’ll try.”
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#💜💜 anon#natasha romanoff#clintasha#black widow#clint barton#my fic#natasha romanoff fic#hawkeye#clintasha fanfiction#clintasha fanfic#wonderful anon
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Jake sits on his laptop, and his hacker attack is denied.
"Fuck me!" He curses.
MC sits down on his lap. "Gladly."
"MC not -" She strokes through his hair. "Oh nevermind, continue, please," he purrs.
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#wonderful anon#very very wonderful#it's too accurate 😌🤭#duskwood incorrect quotes anon#duskwood#duskwood jake#everbyte studio#duskwood game#duskwood everbyte#everbyte duskwood#iamjake#duskwood mc#duskwood jake x mc#everbyte game#dwn.sfw
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hello! I have been reading your shadow and bone fic Bow Before Your King on ao3 and it's really good! i read Inlaid with stars as well (that one's my favourite). I was wondering which of your fics you've written is your favorite?
have a nice day :)
Thank you so much for the ask! I'm glad you're enjoying Bow Before your King!
I love Inlaid with Stars too! Writing could've been better in my opinion but it holds a special place in my heart
I think my favourite fic is either my one shot Starlight because it was really fun to write and I'm a sucker for mercher lore and fake dating. Or, currently, Bow Before your King because I love writing the whump and Rhamani is such an interesting character to explore
Thank you again, wonderful anon!
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I have DID, not OSDD, but I will say that in my years following you, there have been a few times I've wondered if you might have OSDD/DID
Hey anon thank you so much for your feedback I really appreciate you sharing that thought that you had with me.
Can I ask you what it was about me that made you think that? I'm really trying to figure out what it is that I'm going through.
#wonderful anon#nice asks#osdd#did#answered#i just want to add that i am not claiming that i have this disorder#i am diagnosed cptsd and mdd currently but was exploring new feelings within the last year that developed and i am very confused#i just want to find out what im going through so i can know how i can make myself feel better
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if you could time travel to any time period, what would it be and why?
best gift you’ve ever received?
best feeling you’ve ever experienced?
Maybe the 70s so that I could be a rockstar and be able to afford a place to live hopefully
Best gift I’ve ever received is a synthesiser for my birthday and Xmas once (they’re close together), it was unbelievable to receive that.
Probably being in a loving and stable relationship with a perceivable future for the first time in my life. Or the feeling of first love as a teenager. Everything used to feel so much stronger then.
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NSFW Nando
Enjoy!
Anon I am (consensually) smooching you right now!!!! 😻
Looking for science and research purposes only 😳
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I love you so much, you’re awesome and amazing and nobody else could be as wonderful as you(okay maybe Sirius Black is more wonderful than you)(but he’s the exception)(and also fictional)(to my knowledge you’re not)(I hope you’re not just a figment of my imagination)(but I don’t think I could come out with someone like you)(Good lord I hope I don’t sound like a creep)
OMG this is the cutest thing ever.
I'm really not all that great but this absolutely made my day :)
Who are you, wonderful anon?
I'm hopelessly intrigued
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dear anon who saw me lamenting about not having ideas for the discord fic and then was kind enough to send me some ideas,
THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU, YES I WILL ABSOLUTELY WRITE THAT! i'm not going to post the ask right now because it's basically the outline for my new chapter 😂 but seriously, thank you soooo much, I hope you see this and know how much I appreciate you 💗💗💗
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hi, i'm the person who sent you the Chicken, Toothless, Changewing, Hobgobbler, and Hookfang doodles (and a Stormfly doodle)! i'm really glad you're enjoying them! i'm quite proud of them considering i drew them with a mouse! obviously the Changewing is my greatest drawing of all time, i really captured the fine details on that one lol
Omg, you did that with a mouse? You see, I was thinking if I wanted to do that for anyone I would draw on my ipad, but a mouse? That's awesome! I saved them to my phone and put them in an album, actually!
And yes, the Changewing was an absolute masterpiece.
Thank you so much!!
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B r u h! Your comics and your fanarts are truly one of the most cute, funny, lovely and wonderfully awesome art I've ever seen! Your style is so nice and I think u are very skilled so! Thank you v much or making and sharing ur art with us! ❣❣
Oh. my. god you made my day 😭😭😭😭 how can I ever repay you for your sweet sweet words holy hell I’m smiling like an idiot. That’s so nice please 🧎🧎🥲🥲 messages like these are what keeps me going 🤠 you are absolutely amazing thank you so freaking much, it really means a lot to me 💕 I bow down to your kindness, I hope you have a great day/night, may your cattle flourish and your crops prosper. Kabausvdisvsiwje my heart 😩❤️
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I don't need a fic in return but if you're feeling like writing a fic with Clint or Natasha getting hurt and the other taking care of them I wouldn't object to it. I did it cause I saw an opportunity to put kindness out in the world after having a rough day myself 💜💜
You may not need a fic, but you sure are getting one. Please keep an eye out, as I have some delightful ideas for this.
Your kindness is not lost, and I will endeavour to pass it through the world. I hope the day becomes kinder and please know you’ve made a difference in mine.
Thank you again, you wonderful human. <3
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💐💐💐these are for you! you are a very talented writer and i love your work💕
I love flowers!!!! Thank you so much. It's always nice to hear that others enjoy my writing🥰. As a proper thank you I present you with cookies 🍪🍪🍪
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Hey, man! Just wanted to say that you’re genuinely one of my favourite authors and your writing is so cool! :D
🥺🥺🥺
Thank you so much, anon! This means so much to me!!! 🥰🥰🥰
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NSKKSOSOSNAKKS MONTY FIC HAS ME SCREAMING I love how he treated Sirius so much
Look at that key smash. Just look at it. That's a glorious key smash.
I'm happy you enjoyed it (enough to even scream), and thank you for this. Monty was very fun to write. The way him and Effie love Sirius is so powerful, and I love exploring that when I get the chance.
Fleamont Potter will forever be Sirius' father. Fight me if you want, but I doubt anyone ever will.
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Have you been told how awesome you are? Well I’m telling you now🥰 I 💜 your blog, fanfics, sense of humor and your kind interaction with people (who are not idiots lol). Let’s just declare today bdasswarrior appreciation day! 🥂😊-SA
🥰Thank you my wonderful SA!
Have you ever been told how sweet and amazing you are? Well, I'm telling YOU now! Your consistent weekly wonderful, uplifting, sweet messages are something I come to look forward to every Monday! No matter what kind of day I have, I know when I get home, there will be a message from the sweetest anon on the planet! Never EVER change your wonderful soul. Stay beautiful, stay wonderful, stay amazing, stay safe.
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ironically, I can't remember specifics 😅 but the way you've talked about your childhood definitely stood out to me in the past
Yeah with abuse and neglect and being manipulated all the time I definitely meet that criteria so I can see why you would say that.
Thank you very much for your feedback it helps me a lot.
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