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snatchedatlight reblogged
RELATIONSHIP EDITS: 5 of ?? ft. clint & nathaniel ( @snatchedatlight )
snatchedatlight reblogged
someone’s trying to speak to him. he can see hands moving in the corner of his eye. clint can’t hear the words he’s certain accompany the signing—he’s explained plenty of times before that it’s kind of… rude to speak while signing, but the lesson seems to rarely stick with people. clint can’t really blame anyone for speaking as they sign, despite how irritating it is that his focus is pulled between reading lips and signing each time. the visual language isn’t normally someone’s first. years of solely speaking aloud is a hard habit to break.
a slow turn of the head. he’s a million miles away, fighting through a heavy fog. there’s a terrifying moment where his eyes won’t focus on the other’s hands and face. a slow blink. bit better. another slow blink. stop messing with your iv. huh? he’s not—oh. clint hadn’t noticed that his fingers had been picking at the tape that kept the iv in. but now he’s keenly aware of just how much his arm is itching beneath the tape. keenly aware of the fact he’s laid up in a hospital bed once again. no, no, no. he’s not staying here. he’s not staying in this fucking room for a second longer.
“i wanna leave. right now.”
nathan was quick to leap forward and plant a careful hand on clint’s chest to keep him from rising. only when he was sure clint wouldn’t budge did nathan sit back and raise his hands. ‘ chill out. we’re not staying. ’ but despite the strings people like tony stark could pull, all the tech and money in the world couldn’t make clint recover instantaneously. there was no way the archer should be walking out of here on his own two feet. at the very least he should make use of the painkillers and crutches.
‘ SHIELD or whoever–– ’ nathan paused, his hands stilling briefly. nathan technically wasn’t supposed to know about them. sue him. ‘ ––your friends got you released on two conditions. one, that you’re no longer critical. ’ nathan’s scrutinizing gaze narrowed as though he half expected clint to suddenly code-blue in a whirlwind of theatrics. that was what always happened on those hospital shows. ‘ and two, that someone drive you home. lucky for you, i have a learners permit. ’
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he’d been furious when he showed up at the museum. one job. alex’s handler had one gcddamn job. keep the kid safe. pull him out if things went sideways. make sure he got home. he could strangle fury for even green lighting a stupid futzing school to use kids. there was already a search underway. a pair of agents interviewing possible witnesses. someone looking over security tapes. the bare minimum hadn’t been enough for clint. he’d started working a grid by himself.
it was lucky, really, that found alex. they’d been passing an alley, lucky had stopped in his tracks, turned toward the alley entrance, started whining. he’d dropped his cell phone and rushed forward. closed dumpster. not good. not good. gcd, what is he going to tell jack if alex’s body is in there? he couldn’t look as he threw the dumpster lid open. fixated his gaze on lucky. tail’s wagging. clint peered over the edge of the dumpster and nearly sobbed in relief.
the archer shook his head at the question. an arrow would be too unwieldy in alex’s current predicament. clint knew from experience. it had a tendency to get caught on the trash in the dumpster, and he always, always managed to nick himself in the process of cutting himself free. besides, there was no real reason for clint to pass alex something to cut himself free with. he could do it for him much easier. « stay. » clint had to sign at lucky. he knew damn well that lucky would wander off if he didn’t sign something.
clint hauled himself into the dumpster, careful not to land on alex as he dropped down inside. “are you okay?” he had a million other questions he wanted ask, but that was the most pressing. clint pulled a flechette from his boot and bent over to start cutting alex’s arms free. “broken bones? head injury? talk to me.”
@snatchedatlight | cont.
a breath hissed in through quickly clenched teeth as the trash under him shifted with clint’s entry. alex’s fingers were numb and tingling. with a start, alex realized that if he had remained tied up much longer, serious damage might have been done. the plastic ties around his wrists were far too tight to allow for proper blood flow. it clearly hadn’t been a concern of the men who had tied alex up in the first place.
“ ribs! ” it was the only thing alex could manage to say as he fought to wrestle his pain back under control. alex had taken breathing and meditation classes when he was young. letting his breaths grow irregular would only increase his discomfort, so alex forced himself to calm down and focus on slow shallow breaths. he couldn’t manage anything deeper. “ concussion. ” definitely. alex could feel his pulse pounding on the insides of his skull. it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but alex couldn’t tell if the remaining dizziness was from that or his shortness of breath.
“ my arms are being… wrenched out of their sockets. ” nothing else felt too damaged though. alex could taste blood on the inside of his cheek and he grimaced, but it was hardly worth mentioning in comparison to everything else. “ they knew someone was coming. they had… sensors. detected the camera. ” alex squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his head and tried to remember. “ i activated the SOS. they must have turned it off. ”
and how long had alex been laying passed out in a bin? jack was going to kill him.
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it’s over. he knows it. whatever happened to cause this is over. the dust has settled, quite literally. there’s no more fading. no more eerie silence. the birds are chirping, cicadas humming. he knows it’s over. but he’s stepping forward, ignoring the sparks he sees coming from nathan’s fingertips, and snags the kid’s shirt. the archer pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around nathan so futzing tight. it’s over. it’s over, but he’s holding on to nathan for dear life. burying his face in the kid’s shoulder, fighting to keep his breathing even.
he’s trying to be strong for nathan. he’s trying to keep his head on straight. he can’t think about lucky’s ashes on his pants. can’t think about barney’s empty wheelchair. but clint becomes aware that his lips are moving, tears streaming down his face. “don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave.”
@snatchedatlight | cont.
clint’s grip was crushing, dragging him in with a tug on his shirt and warm arms looping around nathan’s back to pull him close. it was so solid, so real; unlike the ash in his hair from his mother’s hand or the ghost of her lips on his temple. clint’s hug was everything nathan needed it to be. grounding, overwhelming, anchoring, someone to hold on to. fingers curled into fists as nathan held on for dear life, his chin at clint’s shoulder and breaths a strangled gasp. nathan stared at his hands over clint’s shoulder until the glow faded from his palms and nathan could clutch at clint’s jacket, unwilling to let go.
“what happened? what just happened? what just happened––” but nathan was just babbling. clint couldn’t see his lips and nathan, who was always so good at facing clint when he spoke, was at a loss as he mumbled his confusion into clint’s shoulder. “are we next?”
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AVENGERS ASSEMBLE. would you like to join a mcu rp discord server where everyone is allowed to write what they want to & we completely disregard canon ( because who even gave the russo brothers that right ) , then come join us. oc friendly & duplicate friendly.
❝They were here. Now they’re gone.❞ for nathaniel
@archerdeafened loves me
“uncle clint people don’t just up and vanish into thin air!” nathan threw up his hands, gesturing around them in the desperate hope that this was somehow all a dream, that their friends and family would suddenly reappear with a cry of boo! or abracadabra. but nothing changed. the sun kept shining, birds continued to chirp, and nathan paced back and forth across the grass.
“i can deal with flying aliens, okay? flying aliens and spaceships and whole ass other worlds out there in different realms. hell, i can even deal with lightning hands” sparking fingers threaded into his hair as nathan tugged at the strands. “but i can’t–– i can’t lose my mom. i can’t.”
❝I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.❞ for arlo
@archerdeafened loves me
“what makes you think anyone does?” sound advice from a thirteen year old, except for his tone was heavy with derision as hazel brown eyes flicked over the man, darting from head to toe. arlo took a calculated side-step so that he was just outside of their reach before continuing. “nobody really knows anything. everyone just pretends they do because they think that’s what they’re supposed to do. fake it till you make it, but forever.”
X-BEN FINDING PETE GIVE IT TO MEEEE
@marvelsior loves me
peter had felt alone before but never like this. the giant alien lizard ( name a work in progress ) had thrown peter clear across town, which, okay pretty cool. not many things had the speed and strength to yeet peter like a frisbee, but mr. lizard hadn’t even broken a sweat. and peter had. desperately webbing up opticals in the creature’s path and frantically avoiding its razor sharp teeth, peter only noticed the super sharp claws when they hooked into his chest. and oh. oh. it was bad.
no one was coming to save him this time.
with karen relaying concerning stats in his ears, peter’s attention was divided between her, pain, and the alien crocodile with wolverine claws. it was only a matter of time before he slipped up again. a web shot a few inches off target resulted in a hand around his waist, and peter was thrown again, this time, directly into a building.
there was no give as peter crashed into the outside frame, then fell, dropping the last few feet to cold hard cement. he lay crumpled in a listless heap, and when mr freak of nature moved on? peter didn’t follow.
it hurt. oh god. it hurt so bad. peter blinked away the tears in his eyes as he struggled to sit up only to cry out at the sudden pain and slip back down again. nope. not moving. not today. but as his vision blurred and peter pressed a hand tighter against his side, a figure stepped into his view and.... yep, this was it. peter was really dead. he’d gone and done it now. poor aunt may. because the man standing before peter couldn’t possibly be there. peter had lost his mind. it wasn’t possible.
“... u-uncle ben?”
X (the bruised, bloodly, and left for dead meme) for alex rider
@archerdeafened loves me
Alex woke up in a dumpster with his legs bound and arms still tied behind his back. Everything hurt. His shoulders ached something awful from the way his arms were pulled behind him and a sharp piercing pain sent fire up his left side with every inhale. As Alex twisted and tried to roll over, he gritted his teeth against the pain and paused to catch his breath.
Something must have gone wrong. Alex’s thoughts were muddled and scattered but pieces were slowly coming back to him. He had been on a mission. A SHIELD agent had pulled him from classes earlier that morning and sent Alex to a museum. Blending in with other groups of children on field trips, Alex had been tasked with taking photos of the museum’s featured exhibit: old relics now believed to be of alien origin. Alex had only been there an hour before the sudden grip of a firm hand on his shoulder steered Alex away from the public eye. The last thing he remembered was... a boot in his ribs. But that had come much later after a failed escape attempt and several minutes of cursing.
Blinking in the gloom, Alex struggled to right himself, choking on the smell of rubbish and squirming around to attempt to get his feet somewhere useful. His head knocked painfully against the metal side and the hollow thud that followed felt as though someone had cracked a baseball bat against his temple. Moments later, the dumpster lid lifted open, and in a panic Alex curled his fingers around the first weapon he could find: a plastic fork. But his makeshift weapon was forgotten when he focused on the man above him.
“Any chance I could borrow an arrow? I need something sharper.”
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It had been a good while since the thunder god had any part in Jane Foster’s life, they’d ended their relationship before the events of Thanos, then five plus years later Thor was still on Midgard post the destruction of Asgard. Running into the Foster was extremely rare, aside from anything regarding business outside of Midgard’s atmosphere.Thor was pretty sure Bruce was in contact with her to some degree.
“Ah, hello there. I am Thor, that is correct, at least last time I checked,”
Giving the teenager a careful smile, he rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. Perhaps he should’ve made more of an effort to actually call or send an electronic letter to Jane Foster before showing up here. “I apologize, I do not mean to intrude, you said Jane- Ah, Dr. Foster is away currently?”
this was possibly the single most greatest moment of nathan’s life, and all he could do was stare. stare up, because thor was a lot taller in person than nathan had realized. the videos nathan had seen on youtube had done thor plenty of justice, but they were nothing in comparison to seeing the man standing in his doorway.
thor apologizing finally shocked nathan into a somewhat coherent response. “what––? oh no you’re good. definitely not an intrusion. i was just... playing a game. she won’t be back until tomorrow though.” and as if thor couldn’t follow nathan’s train of thought, he added, “dr. foster, i mean.” he blinked, then awkwardly held out his hand, thrusting it forward with just a tad too much enthusiasm that had nathan internally cringing even as he forced himself to sound normal. “i’m nathaniel, her son.”
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What if we’re trapped in here forever? I’ll never get to make out with Mila Kunis. I don’t think this thing is the only thing keeping that from happening.
snatchedatlight reblogged
You should not be here.
“Do I think you have what now?” Peter seemed to make every moment interesting that was one of the things Stiles like best about him. “Let’s not test that theory on me. I’ve been paralyzed for hours more than one and it’s NOT fun.” Brows raised as he tilts his head. “Bite your tongue and find out?”
“i’m not going to bite my tongue! especially not if it might actually kill me.” which, hey, a little gen-z humor went a long way when joking about getting hit by a spaceship, but actual death-by-tongue-bite was not the way peter parker intended to go out. maybe he was immune to his own toxins or... wait. “–– you were paralyzed?!”
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