1. flatbear:

    Non-denominational winter-themed ornaments! As promised :) NGL, I like these more than the Christmas ones. More ornament-y.

    Just the original group for now, because I have to get back to real work. I work hard for you, Marvel Fandom!

     
  2.  
  3. alladoxography:

    That one time Natasha hit him in the head too hard.

     
  4. hoursago:

    clint encounters a mirror, becomes agitated

     
  5. Fix-It: a story of some Coulson, some doughnuts, and some fixing.

    erebusodora:

     It was very wise of you to decide to return. (…) There was something inappropriate in your absence.
    - Max Frei, ‘The Volunteers of Eternity’.



    -=VOCABULARY=-

    FIX-IT (fandom term, adj.) - a descriptive epithet for a fan fiction, that fixes something in original, canon version of mentioned events. E.g., fiction can fix marriage, romantic notions, unreleased tension.
    Or even death.
    COULSON EVENT (fact) - also known as Schrödinger Coulson; the only thing in Marvel’s The Avengers you can really spoil.
    DOUGHNUT (noun, specific) - also known as ‘donut’; a type of fried dough confectionery or dessert food. Symbolizes peaceful eternity in its sweetest form. Fondly associated with better side of Jörmungandr in some religions.

    Cover | Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 3 | Page 4
    Page 5 | Page 6 | Page 7 | Page 8 | Page 9
    Page 10 | Page 11 | Page 12 | Page 13 | Credits  

    Worked on this for nearly a month, on my own, after the working hours; still, I hope my lack of time didn’t have way too much influence on the quality of the finished story… 
    Anyway.
    I feel like I need to mention my working soundtrack.
    These songs truly helped me in painting this))

    Nina Hagen, “Right On Time” [listen here]
    The National, “Mistaken For Strangers” [listen here]
    Esben and the Witch, “Marching Song” [listen here]
    Abney Park, “Evil Man” [listen here]
    Katzenjammer, “Land Of Confusion” [listen here
    Soul Coughing, “Unmarked Helicopters” [listen here
    Tom Waits, “New Coat Of Paint” [listen here]

     
  6.  
  7. did Clint call Darcy ‘sir’?

    did Clint call Darcy ‘sir’?

     
  8. got the hiccups? there’s a headcanon for that.

    nympheline:

    Everyone who doesn’t know them personally thinks the Avengers are perfect. Everyone who does know them personally knows that the Avengers burp, fart, sing off-key, have morning breath, and make dumb faces during sex just like everybody else.

    (Okay, the general public knows about that last one. Hard not to, what with Tony constantly liking his own videos on YouTube and all.)

    The Avengers also hiccup.

    The first time he heard Natasha go “Hic!” Bruce looked over concernedly and said, “You know, some people think a good scare cures the hiccups. Want me to get the other guy?”

    Natasha’s eyes went wide and her diaphragm went still.

    Bruce smiled.

    The first time he heard Tony go “Hic!” (causing the arc reactor to spasm in time with Tony’s chest and creating an interesting disco effect for a split second), Bruce looked over concernedly and said, “You know, some people think a good scare cures the hiccups. Want me to get the other guy?”

    Tony’s mouth dropped open and he actually jumped up a down and clapped his hands with joy. “Man, that’d be perfect, that’s what I’m always saying, Brucie! Gotta let go, you know, gotta—hic!”

    Bruce dosed Tony with a spoonful of sugar, a half-teaspoon of salt, and, finally, a lemon wedge. Getting Tony to gnaw on a lemon wedge took so much begging and cajoling, and the face Tony made while swallowing the juice was so pathetic, that Bruce gave in and Hulked out as a reward. Positive reinforcement, right? How To Train Your Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist.

    Tony got so excited that he promptly got the hiccups again.

     
  9. fizzsup:

    Tiny Avengers doodle dump- some practice attempts and goofing around with style :)

    I have a thing for the crayon tool in SAI…

     
  10. image: Download

    crystallizedtwilight:

Thanks for the cognitive recalibration / no prob / heeyyy have I ever toldyou about my best friend ssteve? / tony you’re very drunk tony stop / (I hate everything) / Come along brother!

    crystallizedtwilight:

    Thanks for the cognitive recalibration / no prob / heeyyy have I ever toldyou about my best friend ssteve? / tony you’re very drunk tony stop / (I hate everything) / Come along brother!

     
  11. paxieamor:

    marchingjaybird:

    TFTA: Texts From the Avengers (pt. 2)

    This needs to be a fic. I am going to write this fic.

    And I will love you forever for it and Nicki will murder me for the amount of love I will shower you with BUT IT WILL BE TOTALLY FUCKING WORTH IT.

    (Source: clintbartons)

     
  12. xombiedirge:

    Marvel Illustrations by Junaid Chundrigar / Website

    Now watch the animated short ‘DISASSEMBLE’ which accompanies these pieces. No you have to, GO NOW! But seriously it is just a delight….HERE


    (Source: xombiedirge)

     
  13. image: Download

    “…the fuck?” Clint narrowed his eyes slightly then closed his right, focusing entirely on the red-headed subject at the other end of his scope. His eyebrows drew together in confusion and he spat his dog-tags out so that he could be understood over the radio.
“…seriously, what the fuck?” he repeated, and his earpiece crackled.
“Which part of radio silence was difficult to understand, Specialist?” “The part where the target is twelve. I’m not shooting a kid, no matter what SHIELD thinks she did.”
“…what?” Fir the first time in the three years that he’d known him, Clint heard hesitation and disbelief in his handlers’ voice. “No, that’s not right. This is Black Widow… she’s killed thirteen men, including two of our operatives. You sure there’s not just a kid hanging out there?” “This red-headed kid is the only person for about two miles, other than me… and I think she’s… yep. She’s spotted me. Going silent.”
“Barton! DAMMIT YOU-” Clint cut Phil’s rant off with a tap to the tape on his neck holding his throat-mike in place, silencing his entire radio array, and got to his feet, keeping both eyes on the slim girl in torn jeans and an oversized black button-down shirt. She was barefoot and filthy, skinny but not emaciated, just pre-teen-kid skinny. She was also looking directly at him, two hundred and fifty yards away and he *knew* that she couldn’t see him. Intellectually, he knew that… but the way she was looking at his nest was just… unnerving.
He moved, slowly and deliberately lowering his rifle but in the second it took him to refocus from scope to distance the girl vanished.

Shit.

He shifted in place and scanned the area, but there was no sign of her. 

He didn’t actually speak, but he was letting loose a rather impressive string of swear-words (in several languages) inside his own head, because no way in hell should some not-quite-teenaged kid be able to get the drop on him like that. 

Hell, he was Hawkeye. Nobody should be able to get the drop on him.

He sat there, half-twisted in his little nest and waited. If this girl was half as good as SHIELD was giving her credit for, then… well, he needed to be ready. He withdrew his grip from the rifle and reached down to grip his sidearm, flicking the safety off and ready to draw it the moment he heard anything.

He carefully kept himself still, and it was only his extensive training and self-discipline that stopped him from whipping his head around when he heard something crack above him, then a rush of air.

He moved just as she landed, rolling entirely onto his back and catching her in a bear hug, using his size in an attempt to overwhelm her, and failing rather miserably when a heel made high-velocity contact with his groin.

Two seconds later he found himself doubled over, gripping… himself… while the kid pointed his own sidearm at his face.

She was tiny, really tiny, with acid-red hair and pale skin, massive blue eyes and she was… she was terrified.

He uncurled, slowly, no sudden moves around the kid with the handgun, and shifted so that he was on one knee in front of her, then lifted his hands, showing her that he was unarmed, and reached out and gently brushed her hair back from her face.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” he told her, and she narrowed her eyes at him, setting her jaw and adjusting her grip on the pistol - the firearm was far too big for her delicate little hands, but she was certainly confident enough with it for Clint to be more than a little unnerved.

“I promise.” She was still glaring, so he switched to Russian. They were only 23 miles from Moscow, after all, and the rumors flying around all indicated that the Widow was Russian.
Unfortunately, Clint only knew a few phrases, and a lot of them were rather inappropriate for conversation with a kid at least fifteen years younger than him.
“Who hurt you?” he asked, because that was about the only thing he could think of to ask, that wouldn’t result in another kick to the balls, or the girl pulling the trigger on him.

They were like that for a solid minute, Clint’s pinkie finger brushing her jugular as her pulse  slowly settled and eventually, when she realised that she had all the power and that he was being genuine, she lifted the gun.

“Nobody hurts me. If they try, I kill them.” she told him, and he took a moment to translate that inside his head.
“If I promise not to hurt you, will you not kill me?” he asked, and she cocked her head to one side, considering.
“Da.” 
“Can I have my gun back?” “Niet.” “Do you want a piece of chocolate?”
Her entire bearing changed. Suddenly, she was a kid. Just a kid, and the gun in her hand could have been a toy. She dropped the weapon to her side and her eyes lit up, she stepped forward and was smiling properly, now.
“Chocolate?”
“If you give me back my gun, I’ll give you some chocolate.” She considered this for a moment, before her gaze flickered down to the hunting knife strapped to his thigh.
“Knife and chocolate for gun.” “Deal.”

    “…the fuck?” Clint narrowed his eyes slightly then closed his right, focusing entirely on the red-headed subject at the other end of his scope. His eyebrows drew together in confusion and he spat his dog-tags out so that he could be understood over the radio.

    “…seriously, what the fuck?” he repeated, and his earpiece crackled.

    “Which part of radio silence was difficult to understand, Specialist?”
    “The part where the target is twelve. I’m not shooting a kid, no matter what SHIELD thinks she did.”

    “…what?” Fir the first time in the three years that he’d known him, Clint heard hesitation and disbelief in his handlers’ voice. “No, that’s not right. This is Black Widow… she’s killed thirteen men, including two of our operatives. You sure there’s not just a kid hanging out there?”
    “This red-headed kid is the only person for about two miles, other than me… and I think she’s… yep. She’s spotted me. Going silent.”

    “Barton! DAMMIT YOU-” Clint cut Phil’s rant off with a tap to the tape on his neck holding his throat-mike in place, silencing his entire radio array, and got to his feet, keeping both eyes on the slim girl in torn jeans and an oversized black button-down shirt. She was barefoot and filthy, skinny but not emaciated, just pre-teen-kid skinny. She was also looking directly at him, two hundred and fifty yards away and he *knew* that she couldn’t see him. Intellectually, he knew that… but the way she was looking at his nest was just… unnerving.

    He moved, slowly and deliberately lowering his rifle but in the second it took him to refocus from scope to distance the girl vanished.

    Shit.

    He shifted in place and scanned the area, but there was no sign of her. 

    He didn’t actually speak, but he was letting loose a rather impressive string of swear-words (in several languages) inside his own head, because no way in hell should some not-quite-teenaged kid be able to get the drop on him like that. 

    Hell, he was Hawkeye. Nobody should be able to get the drop on him.

    He sat there, half-twisted in his little nest and waited. If this girl was half as good as SHIELD was giving her credit for, then… well, he needed to be ready. He withdrew his grip from the rifle and reached down to grip his sidearm, flicking the safety off and ready to draw it the moment he heard anything.

    He carefully kept himself still, and it was only his extensive training and self-discipline that stopped him from whipping his head around when he heard something crack above him, then a rush of air.

    He moved just as she landed, rolling entirely onto his back and catching her in a bear hug, using his size in an attempt to overwhelm her, and failing rather miserably when a heel made high-velocity contact with his groin.

    Two seconds later he found himself doubled over, gripping… himself… while the kid pointed his own sidearm at his face.

    She was tiny, really tiny, with acid-red hair and pale skin, massive blue eyes and she was… she was terrified.

    He uncurled, slowly, no sudden moves around the kid with the handgun, and shifted so that he was on one knee in front of her, then lifted his hands, showing her that he was unarmed, and reached out and gently brushed her hair back from her face.

    “I’m not going to hurt you.” he told her, and she narrowed her eyes at him, setting her jaw and adjusting her grip on the pistol - the firearm was far too big for her delicate little hands, but she was certainly confident enough with it for Clint to be more than a little unnerved.

    “I promise.” She was still glaring, so he switched to Russian. They were only 23 miles from Moscow, after all, and the rumors flying around all indicated that the Widow was Russian.

    Unfortunately, Clint only knew a few phrases, and a lot of them were rather inappropriate for conversation with a kid at least fifteen years younger than him.

    “Who hurt you?” he asked, because that was about the only thing he could think of to ask, that wouldn’t result in another kick to the balls, or the girl pulling the trigger on him.

    They were like that for a solid minute, Clint’s pinkie finger brushing her jugular as her pulse  slowly settled and eventually, when she realised that she had all the power and that he was being genuine, she lifted the gun.

    “Nobody hurts me. If they try, I kill them.” she told him, and he took a moment to translate that inside his head.

    “If I promise not to hurt you, will you not kill me?” he asked, and she cocked her head to one side, considering.

    “Da.” 

    “Can I have my gun back?”
    “Niet.”
    “Do you want a piece of chocolate?”

    Her entire bearing changed. Suddenly, she was a kid. Just a kid, and the gun in her hand could have been a toy. She dropped the weapon to her side and her eyes lit up, she stepped forward and was smiling properly, now.

    “Chocolate?”

    “If you give me back my gun, I’ll give you some chocolate.”
    She considered this for a moment, before her gaze flickered down to the hunting knife strapped to his thigh.

    “Knife and chocolate for gun.”
    “Deal.”

    (Source: orange-om-nom)

     
  14. 08:24

    Notes: 359

    Reblogged from tgda

    Tags: Black widowHawkeye

    image: Download

    jorston:

‘Who hurt you?’
I just want Natasha to have met Clint when she’s like a twelve year old killing machine, and Clint is a young soldier in his mid-twenties. (Considering age difference between Jeremy Renner and Scarlett Johansson it is possible?) Basically the headcanon would be: Some government agency sends Clint to kill lil’Tasha. Clint meets her and is all like, oh no, she’s too young, I won’t kill her. And Tasha’s like, fuck off and eat lead. And Clint’s all, here, allow me to give you some love. And Tasha’s all, fuck this, I will be your friend.
But OBVIOUSLY happened in a much more emotional way. Gosh I think my A-level English teacher is going to get a stroke. Guys, this is the reason why I only get Pass grade in Essay-based subjects. When I took econ i didn’t want to write your fucking essays anymore. No seriously, I mean it. I want my university to get the message, I won’t write essays no more. Any more. Geez. 
I don’t think this head-canon will tie-in in anyway with the real backstory of Black Widow. I haven’t read it yet, just sitting there in my download box. It’s not Clintasha as a pairing. But I want a prepubescent Natasha who forms attachment to a damaged Clint, who obviously sees her as a way of reassuring himself he is still capable of human emotions. Coulson probably fit in somewhere as well, in sort of a fatherly figure for Natasha. I want this as a starting-point to the epic relationship between the two.
Oh by the way the black stuff is suppose to be black. Don’t know if you guys can tell, but I only have black gel-pen here.



Hello headcanon.

    jorston:

    ‘Who hurt you?’

    I just want Natasha to have met Clint when she’s like a twelve year old killing machine, and Clint is a young soldier in his mid-twenties. (Considering age difference between Jeremy Renner and Scarlett Johansson it is possible?) Basically the headcanon would be: Some government agency sends Clint to kill lil’Tasha. Clint meets her and is all like, oh no, she’s too young, I won’t kill her. And Tasha’s like, fuck off and eat lead. And Clint’s all, here, allow me to give you some love. And Tasha’s all, fuck this, I will be your friend.

    But OBVIOUSLY happened in a much more emotional way. Gosh I think my A-level English teacher is going to get a stroke. Guys, this is the reason why I only get Pass grade in Essay-based subjects. When I took econ i didn’t want to write your fucking essays anymore. No seriously, I mean it. I want my university to get the message, I won’t write essays no more. Any more. Geez. 

    I don’t think this head-canon will tie-in in anyway with the real backstory of Black Widow. I haven’t read it yet, just sitting there in my download box. It’s not Clintasha as a pairing. But I want a prepubescent Natasha who forms attachment to a damaged Clint, who obviously sees her as a way of reassuring himself he is still capable of human emotions. Coulson probably fit in somewhere as well, in sort of a fatherly figure for Natasha. I want this as a starting-point to the epic relationship between the two.

    Oh by the way the black stuff is suppose to be black. Don’t know if you guys can tell, but I only have black gel-pen here.

    Hello headcanon.

    (Source: orange-om-nom)

     
  15. did you know that nick fury’s got an eye on you

    sonnss:

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