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sirequag:

ceshira:

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toughtink:

ceshira:

SPREAD THIS GUYS! I’M ACTUALLY PROUD OF THIS ONE!

COMBINING TWO OF MY FAVORITE THINGS IN THE MOST PERFECT WAY? DID SOMEONE GIVE YOU ALL THE AWARDS YET, BECAUSE YOU DESERVE THEM.

So Blackfire is Loki then?

^reblogging again for that

Sister, I assume you can decipher this.

this is beautiful in so many different ways

(I was just trying to introduce this show to my sisters! AHHHHH so many childhood feels)

Halloween fic?

Who’s Hawkeye then.

Speedy

Or terra

….well um…

image

There are two Hawkeyes. Problem solved?

nottonyharrison:

queersuperteens:

nottonyharrison:

How many spies does it take to change a lightbulb?

"One of the lights is out in the den," Bruce said as he came into the kitchen at breakfast.  "Went out while I was reading last night."

"JARVIS, make a note to get a maintenance guy up here," Tony called sleepily, apparently trying to osmose his coffee through the mug, if the way he was curled around it was any indication.

"Of course, sir.  Immediately or at a later time?"

"Uh.  Later.  Coffee now."

Natasha snorted and pushed herself up from the table.  ”That’s ridiculous.  It’s just a light bulb.”

"In a ceiling that’s like 15 feet high," Tony pointed out dubiously.  Natasha waved him of as she poked in a cupboard and produced a new bulb, 

"I’ve got this."  She kicked Clint’s chair lightly.  "Come on, I’ll need a leg up."  Clint didn’t bother to set his phone down, sleepily following Natasha back into the den while Bruce and Tony stared after them.

"Should we go help?" Bruce asked uncertainly after a moment.  Tony sighed and downed his coffee in two gulps. 

"Nah, we’ll go laugh at the spies totally failing to change a lightbulb in a ceiling they couldn’t reach even standing on top of one another," he said, and sauntered out to the den, Bruce a few steps behind him, close enough that he almost crashed into Tony’s back when he stopped suddenly, just inside the doorway. "What.”

Clint looked up guiltily from his phone and Bruce couldn’t help but stare in shock.  Clint was perched on what looked like one of Tony’s expensive desk chairs (and how he’d gotten it in such a short period of time, Bruce had no idea), one foot on the back, one foot on an arm.  Somehow it hadn’t tipped, and Bruce was at a loss to figure out how, especially considering that Natasha had one foot on Clint’s shoulder and the other on his head, calming screwing in the new lightbulb.

"What are you doing?” Tony all but screeched.

"Changing the lightbulb," Natasha said calmly, lowering herself to the ground from Clint’s shoulders.

"Getting a new high score on Angry Birds," Clint added, tipping the chair backwards and landing smoothly, holding his phone out with a triumphant grin.

"I’m surrounded by suicidal nutcases!" Tony exclaimed, and went back to the kitchen, adding, "Put my chair back where you got it!" over his shoulder. 

OH MY GOD I AM CRYING THIS. IS THE BEST. ARGH.

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