these four give me life
((A little bit of Phil’s family, before Phil comes clean, for catlinyemaker, who evidenced an affection for them. 8) ))
“Someone likes the Avengers!”
Shirley Coulson chuckled. “Well, to be honest, Julie, doesn’t everyone?”
Julie laughed, her hands moving quickly as she continued ringing Shirley up. “Well, yes, but still.” Packages of balloons printed with Iron Man’s helmet, sheets of stickers, party hats shaped like Thor’s helmet and a pin-the-arrow-on-the-bullseye game were added to Shirley’s bag, one after another. Julie held up a pair of inflatable Hulk fists, her eyebrows arching.
“I think that they’ll suit me,” Shirley said, with a straight face.
Grinning, Julie finished up, tucking the last of the party supplies into the bag. She handed over the bulging bag, and Shirley added it to her already full cart. “Someone really likes the Avengers,” Julie said. “REALLY likes the Avengers.”
Shirley gave her cart a look, smiling. “When there are twins, you are lucky if they both adore the same things,” she pointed out. “I’m much happier with two of everything than I am trying to work out equal space for pirates and dinosaurs.” She paused. “That was a bad year. The cakes were…” Her lips pursed. “Well, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a poor baker try to decorate a cake with a pirate ship fighting a dinosaur. There were tears involved.”
~a few~ of the Marvel men.
you know, randomly chosen.
no criteria whatsoever.
they just ~happen~ to be the ones i like the best.
look at this stream of sensible suits
and then sam jackson in a sky blue/lime green combo like a man who dressed himself in baskin&robbins
i fucking love sam jackson
"Dressed himself in a baskin robbins" I AM DYING
The thing about SLJ though is that he makes that shit work.
Oh my god. That HINT of SLJ’s shirt. Look at the collar. Look at the tiny bit we can see.
That shirt must have been MAGNIFICENT.
BEACH BABIES! ALL FINISHED!
Gonna do stickery things with them >v>
I made these cause of THESE ADORABLE ICONS and directly took the bg colors form there. SO GO GIVE IT LOVE. Srsly tho if I hadn’t seen those I wouldn’t have made these.
aaaaaaaaah so cute!
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Steve said, trying not to smile. “Go back to sleep.”
Tony pried open an eye, peering at Steve over the pillow of his arm. “Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, yawning into the crook of his elbow. “Looks like you’re drawing me while I’m asleep and defenseless.”
“You aren’t asleep, and you’re seldom defenseless,” Steve said, shifting so he could rest his sketchbook on his upthrust knee. “Hold still.”
“I was asleep when you started,” Tony pointed out. He tucked his head back down. “And you’re drawing naked pictures of me. This feels inappropriate for an American icon.”
“You weren’t sleeping, you were faking it and hoping that I wasn’t going to call you on it so you could sneak out of bed and go back to work,” Steve said. He reached for a harder stick of charcoal. “You’re just cranky because I caught you at it.”
“Also because you’re getting charcoal dust over my very expensive white sheets,” Tony said. He shifted, a little closer to the pile of pillows that filled the top half of their bed.
Didn’t I watch a terrible children’s movie about this? Also, haven’t all of these couples broken up.
Also, we all know its Nat and Bucky’s kid and Steve took responsibility for some stupid ass noble reason.
Well, technically, they only say “Black Widow and Captain America” and Bucky has been Captain America for whole stretches of time.
So it could totally be Bucky just as written. Edit: Yes, I’m an idiot and didn’t notice the last name. So sue me. In my defense, Nat and Bucky are so interwoven in my head that I cannot IMAGINE Steve stepping in on that. 8)
Typo patrol: “They are, aren’t there?” Clint grinned. should probably be “They are, aren’t they?” Clint grinned.
That’s nice of you, but I am neither looking for a beta, nor do I want one. Please don’t do this again. I would appreciate that.
“Did you know there’s porn of me online?”
Phil’s pen scraped across the page. “No,” he said at last, and it took him far too long to dredge up that single word. Some discussions with Clint were like getting a concussion while drunk; he could almost feel the brain damage setting in but couldn’t work up any concern about it. He set his pen aside. “Is this something you knew about and participated in, or something that was done without your knowledge or consent?” he asked, because that was really the first priority.
He did not allow himself to think about what the next priorities were. Probably murder if this question wasn’t answered properly, but he doubted that was going to be necessary. Clint didn’t seem upset or angry. Just amused.
Clint threw himself onto Phil’s couch. “Aw, are you going to defend my honor?” he asked, grinning as he folded his hands over his flat stomach. “That’s a losing fight there, Phil.”
Phil arched an eyebrow in his direction. “I’m good at those.” He leaned back in his chair, studying Clint. “They’re kind of a specialty.”
“They are, aren’t there?” Clint grinned. “St. Phil, Patron Saint of Lost Causes.”
Bucky tried not to resent it. He really did.
He didn’t have anything to complain about it, and he knew it. The first few days, weeks, months had been hellish, he hadn’t known when it was, where he was, even who he was. He’d lost time, hours and days at a stretch, and the only thing that made sense was Steve. Steve, who could latch onto to an idea, onto a person, with the grip of a terrier and never let go.
Bucky had fought that grip at first. Mostly because it felt so terrifyingly familiar, and he hadn’t known how to handle it. Really, he still didn’t, but he knew he needed it. He needed Steve.
They’d brought him back here, to what he now realized was Sam’s house. Sam’s house outside of Washington DC. They’d had a discussion one time, when they thought that Bucky was asleep, about bringing him back to Brooklyn. Steve had vetoed it, and Bucky was glad. He hadn’t been ready for that; he might never be ready for that. He hated Washington, but he was okay with this. This little house in a pleasant neighborhood, quiet and still for whole parts of the day and night.
Bucky slept a lot. He would’ve thought he’d been done with that, but doing just about anything took too much effort. Memories and thought and touch and movement, it all too effort and he was so tired.
So it had taken him a while to notice that Sam and Steve were doing everything possible not to be alone together. Steve was a step behind or a step in front of Bucky all the time, even sleeping in the chair next to Bucky’s bed. Bucky had been needy at first, and his resentment of that need hadn’t made it go away. He’d needed Steve, he still did.
It was just that Steve needed Sam. Bucky wasn’t sure that Sam realized it, but he wasn’t sure how the man could be oblivious to the way that Steve watched him. If it was obvious to Bucky, well, then, Sam had no excuse. He liked them both.
But he’d never liked being a third wheel.
CLINT IS SITTING ON THE BACK OF THE COUCH WITH HIS FEET ON THE SEAT. THIS FUCKING HOODLUM
everything is making me cry
Clint is sitting on the back of the couch with his foot on the cushions, Steve’s smiling like he knows this room is full of idiots and he’s okay with it, Rhodey’s off to the side with a drink in a full suit clearly wondering what the hell Tony’s managed to do this time, and Mjolnir is on the damn coffee table in the middle of party wreckage of half consumed drinks.
Dear god, Avengers family bonding. 8)
*sings the Back Up Your Data song of his people*
I will stab you.
Laptop wouldn’t boot this morning.
And I spent a couple of hours thinking of the 50+ pages of the DJ fic that wasn’t backed up and wasn’t anywhere else and hadn’t been shared with anyone.
Then a webmaster buddy helped me pry out half of the RAM and the laptop is limping along. So fic might be a bit slow for a while, guys, I think I’m going to need a new computer. 8)
The mission was a complete disaster, the heat had been brutal, and when the rains came, they came without warning and without mercy. That was when Phil figured out that the safe house roof leaked.
Like a damn sieve.
He’d given up cursing this mission. He was too tired and too worn, too concerned for Clint’s well-being. Clint, who’d been stuck in the crumbling rafters of a massive old church for days on end, where the heat was oppressive and the air was stale. He’d gotten still and quiet over the last few days, barely responding to Phil in the field. He wasn’t much more talkative when the long days were over. Most nights, he just ate, made a cursory attempt to scrape the worst of the dust off of his skin, and crawled into bed.
Phil hated it when Clint stopped talking, but he really hated it when Clint disappeared.