hello! I was wondering - do you have a headcanon for Thor’s tendency to rest his head on Natasha’s lap in the Toasterverse? When was the first time it happened? Does she often braid his hair? I’M SO CURIOUS.
Posts tagged head canon
Posts tagged head canon
More Fury and Clint and potential spoilers if you’re not up to date with Hollow Your Bones beneath the cut. 8)
The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade just featured The Fred Hill Briefcase Drill Team.
Guys in suits twirling briefcases and marching in perfect formation.
And until this was explained, I could not figure out why the Macy’s Parade had a bunch of “Coulson Lives” cosplayers.
And now I just think Coulson leads this troop.
agentpaxieamor asked you:So, is there a head canon for the first time Tony and Steve hung out? Before they were dating and all?
Tony wasn’t really good at the whole ‘comfort’ thing.
No one really looked to him to provide it, which was a good thing, because he had no idea how to provide it. But despite his best efforts, he really did like Steve Rogers, and that was unfortunate, because Steve Rogers was miserable.
And Tony wasn’t sure how to handle that.
Not that anyone wanted him to handle that, hell, he was absolute rubbish at dealing with people, the fact that the rest of the Avengers tolerated his presence most of the time was kind of a surprise, a pleasant enough surprise, especially since Fury made it clear that if he got them drunk, he was responsible for whatever they did.
It didn’t seem like an idle threat.
((In honor of National Coming Out Day, when it is my fervant hope that every one’s lives and loves are treated with the respect, honor, and love that they deserve, have the story of Shawn’s coming out.))
“I’m gay.”
There was a beat of silence, and Shawn was careful to keep his smile as polite and calm as he could manage. Careful to keep his eyes level and his shoulders back and his expression open. Careful to not get defensive, or say something stupid. Or do something stupid, like bursting into tears.
It was kind of difficult to accomplish that when his father got up and walked out of the room.
He took a deep breath, and his eyes burned. He blinked hard, swallowed hard, as his mother shifted on the couch across from him. She muted the tv, and that was smart, that was something Shawn should’ve done before starting this discussion; he considered himself kind of lucky that he’d remembered to wait for a commercial. His mother put the remote aside and folded her hands in her lap.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked, her voice hopeful, and Shawn blinked, trying to pull himself back into something approaching focus.
“What? Uh, no.” His palms were sweating, and he scrubbed them against his thighs. His voice was shaking, he supposed that was normal, because so was the rest of him. “No. I don’t.”
His mother’s face fell. “Oh. I thought, maybe you were telling us because he was outside. That would’ve been nice.” She sounded almost forlorn. “Is there a boy you like?”
“What? No, I- You thought he was outside? What, you thought I left him on the stoop while we had dinner and then watched Jeopardy?” Shawn asked, and his mother shrugged.
“You’re not so good with people, Shawn.”
everythingburning asked you:hello! I was wondering - do you have a headcanon for Thor’s tendency to rest his head on Natasha’s lap in the Toasterverse? When was the first time it happened? Does she often braid his hair? I’M SO CURIOUS.
When the Avengers were first formed, when they first moved into the Tower, and Natasha still isn’t sure how THAT happened, she should know better, she should, but it was a team. She was on a team. She was used to being told where to bunk.
She didn’t like it. But she was used to it.
Barton she knew, Barton she knew in, out, and sideways. Barton had held her bones together with his hands, had stared down the barrel of her gun without flinching, had seen her drunk and hungover and survived taking her alcohol away. More than once. Barton was the wall she could put her back against.
Barton wasn’t a problem.
Stark, she understood. Stark was a nightmare, a spastic genius with an occasional focus, but for the most part, she could steer him in a particular direction or nudge him along if he proved difficult. She could handle him. Hell, from time to time, she could even enjoy him.
Rogers had proved an enigma at the beginning. She’d been suspicious at first, waiting for the first crack to show in his facade, the first imperfection in his serious face. But as the days, the weeks, the MONTHS went by she realized: Steve Rogers was exactly what he seemed, as clear as a cloudless sky, as stable as a rock, as reliable as the sunrise. He meant what he said, and he said what he meant, and other than a few times where he got still and quiet and cold, she found she had no problem with him. She couldn’t predict him, and that was fine, because she could predict that whatever he did, it was what needed doing.
Bruce, with Bruce, she’d stared into the worst he’d had to offer, and she didn’t like it, she didn’t trust it, but she understood the darkness he carried. The scientist himself, he was harder. He was the soft glow of the moon, sometimes large and bright, sometimes the thinnest thread holding back the darkness. The ebb and flow of his moods, of his strength, of the fight with the other guy was less predictable, but she could track it. In the way he held himself, and held himself apart. In how he hid behind folded arms and a ducked head and glasses when he didn’t need them. Bruce was chaos and violence and everything that terrified her, that haunted her nightmares. But Bruce was warmth and kindness and a delicate touch when she couldn’t bear the medbay. And she had her own darkness, her own horrors, locked inside. As long as he could bear hers, she could bear his.
Coulson was just Coulson.
But Thor? Natasha could not figure out Thor.
Anonymous asked: Okay, after the Fox News incident, I have to ask, how do the Avengers do on press interviews?
The Avengers are made up of a sharp-tongued billionaire with a short fuse, an easily insulted God, a traumatized scientist with BREATHTAKING anger management issues, a sullen and smart mouthed sniper, a spy with a cloaked past and the ability to kill with a look and Steve Rogers.
How the hell do you think interviews go?
ninjatwinsasked you: When Tony discovered that his Special Roomba had been named by Clint, Tony says that Clint hates Richards more than Tony himself does (and that took effort). So, why DOES Clint hate Richards? I mean, I know why I utterly hate the man, but I’m curious to see if Clint’s reason is the same.
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badromancenovelquotesandcovers asked you: Head canon: Why does Clint hate Reed Richards?
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canadiansuperhero asked you: But I’ve always wondered, is there something behind Clint’s hate-on for Reed Richards? (not that he needs an excuse because dude’s a douche but hey there could be deep-seated issues!)
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Anonymous asked you: Hi! If you’re still doing the headcanons of the toasterverse, could you tell us why Clint hates Reed Richards even more than Tony does? Thank you!
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old-chatterhand asked you: Why does Clint hate Reed Richards so much? I mean, the guy’s a douchebag, that’s true, but is there some specific reason?
I got a lot of this question, can you tell? 8)
Clint Barton despises Reed Richards. It’s because Reed sometimes has the social skills of a sixth grader and no consideration for the emotional inner life of the people he comes into contact with. Also, he’s a self-important, over-inflated douchebag.
And Clint has kind of a short fuse sometimes.
Anonymous asked you:Random question: Which is the Avengers do you think would be most likely to bring home a box of orphan puppies? And what hilarity would ensue?
The amusing thing to me is that you think any one of the Avengers would be able to resist a box of puppies. So let’s just go with the assumption that a single Avenger comes across a box of abandoned puppies labeled “Free.” This is in no way happening, but it’s a fun character study.
darkmagyk asked you:So, if you find yourself with sometime to indulge my slightly pathetic love of your toasterverse, I was wondering if you had any headcanon about Clint/Phil’s living situation. Do they live together, did they before the team formed and found out?
Phil Coulson has the best office in SHIELD.
Sure, Fury’s office is fancier, and Hill’s office is classier, but people show up in Phil’s office. Somehow, it just feels comfortable. It’s not any bigger than any of the other offices, and sure, it’s got a window, but it’s not that much better than most of the others.
Except for some reason, it’s comfortable. Maybe because Phil’s there, and even when he’s not, there’s this sense of safety, because really? You would have to be an idiot to try anything in Phil Coulson’s office. He has fifty way to make you bleed using nothing but a dirty sock.
He won’t, unbeknownst to the junior agents, he’s so sick of trying to explain away bloodstains to his dry cleaners. And these socks were expensive. Of course, the threat is still valid.
That’s really all that matters.
Anonymous asked: Hi! Can I ask for you headcanon/thoughts/whatever on Steve and Bucky’s relationship? Whether you think it’s romantic or not, why, if you ship ir or not, etc. I really like reading your thoughts on things, so. :)
Steve’s mom moved them when he was nine, to an apartment that was closer to the hospital where she was working. She didn’t say it to Steve, but it was an apartment they could afford, even if it wasn’t the place she wanted to live, and it wasn’t where she wanted Steve to be.
But it was what she could afford, and she needed her job. She needed to not be late, needed to make sure that the bad winters and brutal summer heat wouldn’t keep her from her shifts. And from here, she could walk. She could save those precious few cents, and make her way on foot.
So Steve went to a new school, and he knew better than to complain, he wasn’t a complainer by nature, because if he started, he’d never stop. Whatever he thougth about their new tiny apartment, he knew better than to make his mother feel worse. So he found a window too small for anyone but him, and scribbled on any scrap of paper he could find. Bits of charcoal and abandoned newspapers sustained him for the end of a long, hot summer, listening to the kids play in the streets, games of stickball and kick the can, running and yelling until the night fell and the temparture reached bearable levels.
retconnedbythecaptain asked you: In Coulson’s casefiles of the toasterverse, you mention that Thor loves riding around on the subway… Why does he like it so much?
(there was another part to this ask, which I’ll deal with later, I’ve done a lot of Clint/Coulson/Natasha head canons. so I’m going to try to hit the other Avengers. 8) )
It’s Clint’s fault. Is everyone seeing a theme to these things? Really. Clint’s fault. Clint says things on occasion, and he doesn’t really think about it, he just SAYS the things that cross his mind. Mostly, because he thinks they’re funny, and also because, well, let’s face it, he’s kind of a dick.
Now, when Thor first ended up in modern Midgardian society, he made a big ol’ crater in New Mexico. And not even Albuquerque. In the middle of the frickin’ desert. Not exactly a major metropolitan area.
I mean, when a SHIELD operation can double the town population, you’re in the sticks. When a SHIELD operation can so tip the balance of power that a town election could end with Coulson elected mayor (he declined, but very graciously), you’re in the twigs.
Anonymous asked you: “Natasha was perched in the window overlooking the street, and the SHIELD building beyond, her head turned away from the group, her thumb worrying some small item in her hand. Phil didn’t have to be told to know that it was some trinket that Clint had given her at some point through the years, that she would deny having kept.” -Ordinary Workplace Hazards. Headcanon time! What’s the item and when/why did Clint give it to her?
((warning for mention of kidnapping, torture and canon appropriate violence))
At the beginning, back when they were still feeling each other out and finding the other’s rhythm and abilities, Natasha and Clint had fights.
They have fights now, they have a lot of fights, but at the beginning, when Clint had risked his life and his reputation and his standing to bring her in? They had knock down, drag-out, kicking, hair pulling, biting FIGHTS. On some level, Natasha was impressed that he’d managed to get that far under her skin, but mostly, she was just frustrated and annoyed.
Basically, Clint Barton made her crazy.
retconnedbythecaptain asked: I haven’t told you that I love you and your toasterverse in a few days and that you’re a genius for creating them, so here’s a message to remind you of those things (just in case you ever forget them xD) Also, Why are the roomba’s so obsessed with eating stuff relating to Phil (his ties, his paperwork, etc)?
The Roombas are obsessed with Coulson.
Not in a creepy way. Well, in the least creepy way that a hive mind made up of flying robotic vacuum cleaners can manage. Most things the Roombas do fall somewhere between ‘kind of disquieting,’ and ‘OH HOLY FUCK WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.’
Some people are less bothered by them than others. Clint adores them, Tony has secretly named every one that Clint hasn’t already labeled, Steve likes them in groups of five or less, and Thor likes teaching them tricks. Bruce enjoys the company and maybe just on occasion spills stuff so they’ll show up. Natasha finds the fact that they are able to roll without anyone noticing to be very, very useful. Especially after she mounted a camera to her favorite one.
Coulson hates their little mechanical guts.
brasslizard asked you: So. Tony and food. I’ve noticed that he has an odd relationship with food during the movies. Escape Afghanistan? Cheeseburger. Make it through a Congressional what’s-it? Chile. Needs to admit he’s dying? Omlet. Keep up with his brain? Blueberries. Save the world? Shwarma. I noticed that you carry this through in your fic. And then you mentioned having reasons for this. I’d really, really like to get your take on Tony’s weird relationship with food.
And:
addictedtoknowledge asked you: Now I’m curious as to why Tony eats the things he eats…I’m loving your headcanon for the Avengers and the fact that you’ve got such small details for all of these things most would take for granted is amazing (I’ve got my own, but I love reading others’ headcanons). Of course now that I know you like getting these questions I’m really tempted to start bugging you for answers..
And:
Anonymous asked you: Catching up on your posts and I saw that you have head canon for Tony and food. My thought was “Tony’s has a thing about food?” So I used this as a perfectly legitimate excuse to reread all your fics and rewatch all the movies. And. Tony TOTALLY has a weird relationship with food. But I have no idea why. Help me Obi-Wan, you’re my only hope… *puppy eyes*
When you are starving for affection, food can provide sustenance of a different kind.
Eating is a social activity, a communal one. Ties of family and culture are woven through food, through the act of cooking and feeding and eating, recipes and common spices and ingredients. For those wandering far from home, the first hint of one who shares their origins is the smell of food cooking.
And homesickness can be abetted with a favorite dish.
Tony’s parents had little time for their son, little time, and even less space in their lives. Tony spent his early life being shuffled from the hands of hired nannies and servants and boarding schools, money being handed over along with the sullen, angry little boy. Perhaps he was loved, from person to person, perhaps there were those who held the child with affection or adoration, but when the money stopped coming, Tony was handed off to the next in a long line of hired caretakers.
For Tony’s part, adults were a nuisance, getting in the way, trying to get Tony to do things he didn’t want to do, and blocking him from the things he did want to do. Most things, he could do for himself. He could dress himself, bathe himself, put himself to bed and read himself a story, though fairy tales gave way to scientific books at a very young age.
A hot meal was the rare thing he couldn’t produce on his own.
Food was one of the few things provided reliably by adults that filled some hole in his life, that came with a pat to his head or a kind word, because eating is a communal experience. Food is a connection. Food is a connection, a bridge, a sign of protection and affection.
Food is love.
Howard had his work, and Maria had her charities, and they both had their demons, but on occasion, there would be a meal, and it was thick with frost and alcohol and disapproval of Tony’s table manners, but it was a meal. A family meal. It was an hour or two where instead of the food being put in front of him and the provider walking away, there was someone across the table from Tony.
Tony’s best chance of having his parents there, having them pay attention to him, to focus on him, was when he had a plate in front of him. A meal was a chore, perhaps, but it was an excuse. Maria was perpetually on a diet, and Howard drank half or more of his calories, and Tony was too keyed up, too frustrated and too upset to eat most of the time, but they could sit at the table, with their food going cold, and call it a family meal.
And Tony could call it affection.
Tony didn’t think about it much as an adult, actually tried not to think about it, about the dual pain of his empty stomach and the leaden feeling of disappointment, but food was still a communal thing. People might not need him, might not like him, but everyone had to eat. Food was a bridge and an offering and something real that he could extend.
There are a lot of people in Tony’s life that are there because they are paid. Pepper and Happy and Rhodey, in their own ways, a big part of their jobs are dealing with Tony. They are his friends, they love him, but it’s always there in the back of Tony’s mind, that doubt, that fear; that if the job didn’t exist any longer, if Pepper wasn’t the StarkIndustries CEO and Rhodey wasn’t a weapons expert and pilot of the War Machine armor for the Air Force, would they still stay?
The money is all tangled up in everything for Tony. Jobs and responsibility and temporary alliances.
And if they’re still there, if they’re sitting side by side, if they’re eating, and tolerating Tony’s presence when the job is over, when there’s no REASON for being there other than for a meal and his company? If they can be there, eating, in silence and stillness? Then they’re not coworkers, they’re not hired hands.
In a strange, twisted way, they’re family.
darkmagyk asked you: Do you think the Avengers have watched The Princess Bride together?
Thursday night is Movie Night in the Toasterverse. The Princess Bride was the first “movie night,” though it was nothing nearly so official then. Of course, if you have a group of lonely, isolated, socially maladjusted people living together, and they need to find a way to connect without, you know, TALKING ABOUT FEELINGS, then movies are good. Movies are a shared cultural experience. Good movies forge a connection with their audience, a bond of something not quite real, but certainly there. Great movies give people an excuse to FEEL, to feel in a way that is both safe and validating.
Everybody can cry at the movies.
But Thursday is Movie Night (yes, the caps are important, this is an IMPORTANT THING) in the Avengers Tower, and it’s all Bruce’s fault.
Bruce, who had wandered, lost and alone and directionless, to the far corners of the world. Bruce, who had isolated himself, who had taken care for years to make no connections, to interact with people as little as possible, to stay separate, apart.
He did it out of necessity, and he hated it. There are no words for how much Bruce Banner hated being alone, hated avoiding eye contact and touch and conversation. He did it because it was safest, both for himself, and everyone around him. He was a threat, he was a danger, he was a monster.
Mostly, he was alone.
But no matter how far he got from home, one thing remained the same, one thing that he noticed and loved and clung to. The movies created a shared space. They created a bond. They created conversation and light and life and he could sit on the edge of a crowd, or even at a distance, and hear other people. People laughing and crying and yelling, people wrapped up in the experience.
Some times, people, people who didn’t know him, who would never know him, would turn to him and smile, or laugh, their eyes alive and happy and all but yelling out, “do you see this? Isn’t this amazing?” and Bruce could smile back and feel, just for a second, that he was a part of the human race again.
There are movies everywhere. The smallest village in the furtherest backwater will still drag out an old movie projector and a sheet on hot summer nights and project old black and white films, musicals and action serials and cartoons, for running, laughing children and adults grateful for a chance to sit and be social.
Bruce caught every one of Steve’s films on a long stay in Bolivia, where the children would perch in trees and the adults would spread blankets on the ground below them, plucking their sleeping offspring from the branches like over ripe fruit when it was time to go home.
And Bruce would linger until the last person was gone before he went back to his empty rented room.
There were battered old tvs and video cassettes in the ‘common room’ of the boarding house in Mexico. An open air theater with no walls and a battered tin roof in Columbia. A drive-in with unpatched holes in the fence in Texas, where he would buy the biggest popcorn and soda they had and the old lady who owned the place would politely ignore his lack of a car. The ancient one-screen that played the newest Hollywood blockbuster all week, but on Tuesday nights would show a classic in Nova Scotia. Bollywood films played in a loop with action films and and churned out kung-fu fighters from Hong Kong played all over Asia.
Movies were his last, waning connection to humanity.
It was by chance that Bruce was wandering the silent hallways of the tower on a Thursday night, something like fear or agitation chewing on his brain. He hadn’t been still, in one place, in a place so exposed, so crowded, so intensely OCCUPIED in so long, he had to fight the urge to run. All the time.
He still had a packed bag tucked away, because he wanted to assume that he’d be human when he fled. He prayed for that, with language of hope and praise almost forgotten.
But he was alone, and his skin was crawling, his fingers worrying the edge of his sleeves, over and over and over as he walked, up and down, pacing out the length of hallways, avoiding looking at the windows, avoiding the sight of the dark city so far below him.
He ended up in the rec room, because it was warm, and comfortable, and the tv gave him an excuse to linger. It was Jarvis who suggested a film, because Jarvis had watched Bruce’s movements, watched his mannerisms and tics and facial expressions, and recognized enough of Tony in him to know that he needed distraction.
Bruce chose the Princess Bride, because, well, it’s the Princess Bride. The dual story of true love and heroism and friendship played out against one of family and concern and comfort was one that he liked. He didn’t think about it.
And at “As you wish,” the first one, he heard steps in the hall and Tony all but flung himself around the corner.
“Holy FUCK,” he yelled, making Bruce jump. ”Are you watching the Princess Bride?”
“Uh, yes?” Bruce managed, trying to keep his heartbeat under control.
“Excellent.” Tony vaulted over the back of the couch, bouncing into place next to Bruce. He waved a hand. ”Jarvis, tell everyone we’re watching a movie. Assemble and fuck. Do this thing.”
“You don’t have to-” Bruce managed.
“It’s the Princess Bride, fuck yes we do, bet Steve hasn’t seen this, SHEILD showed him nothing but war flicks and what the hell were they thinking, guy’s had enough of that nonsense, do you mind if we go back to the beginning? Cool, that’d be awesome. Anyway, yeah, Clint-“
“Is this the Princess Bride?” Clint said from the doorway. ”Fuck. Yes.”
Natasha, right behind him, swore in Russian. ”He will now quote this movie for days. You have unleashed something you are not equipped to handle.”
“Could be worse, could be Monty Python,” Coulson said. He had folders tucked under his arm.
“What’s Monty Python?” Steve said. He was in workout clothes, with Thor in matching SHIELD sweats at his side.
“We’ll watch that next,” Tony said. ”Sit, you’re making me tired just watching you.”
“What’s it about?”
“Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles…” Clint quoted, sprawling out on a couch, his head in Natasha’s lap.
“Ah, an epic story of warriors!” Thor said, taking a seat on the beanbag chair, because he loved that thing.
“Sounds good,” Steve added, and looked around. ”Uh, can we have popcorn?” he asked, and he was blushing a little. Bruce met his eyes and realized that yeah, Steve might just want to see this as much as him.
“Damn, yes. Okay, pause this thing, let’s get provisions, hey, Jarvis? Order us a popcorn machine for in here, so we can have the real stuff next time, okay?” And Tony sounded manic, but in the best possible way, like he was happy, like he wanted the company, like popcorn and a twenty-five year old movie was the best idea he’d heard in a long time.
And maybe it was, because by the end of the night, Thor was asleep, still hugging the popcorn bowl to his chest, and Natasha was draped over Clint’s back as he slept on his stomach, snoring just a little, his cheek on Coulson’s thigh. Coulson was slumped over, his arm thrown across the back of the couch, papers tossed across the table in front of them.
Tony was curled against Steve, the line of his spine tucked against Steve’s side, his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s cheek was resting on his hair. Tony’s legs had somehow ended up tangled with Bruce’s, his bare foot warm against the back of Bruce’s ankle.
He was the last one still awake, and that was fine, that was fine, because Clint snored, just a little and Steve’s breathing was slow and steady and loud and he could feel the heat of Tony’s skin against his.
And there was a particularly sad scene playing, so he had an excuse to cry.
