bethrevis:

you could kill a man in any of these dresses, and pretty sure no jury would convict you. those are killing-men dresses, that’s what i’m saying

tastefullyoffensive:

[happyjar]

doglets:

“Pew pew pew” -church interior designer

sexyloogi:

NOTHING IS MORE PUNK THEN LETTING SMALL CHILDREN THINK UR COOL AND TOUCH YOUR HAIR SPIKES

lyannas:

#LORAS OUT

rhllors:

     (via jeynegrey)

clintonfbarton:

ohromanoff:

clint barton shows up to shield 15 minutes late with a starbucks

image

phantomlilac:

Meanwhile, in an alternate universe…

nyxocity:

loki-struts-tom-dances:

hungryhungryhiddles:

Get cereal, Tony says.

Get healthy cereal, Steve says.

Pop-Tarts, Thor says.

Fuck it, this is the one Tasha likes.  MOVING ON.

headcannon accepted

This is sweet.

"Let me save you time," Tony adds after Steve chimes in. "All commercial brand cereals have the same sugar content—Trix to Honey Nut Cheerios. I know," he nods, glancing at the group. "They mix in some wheat into Honey Nut Cheerios to trick you into thinking it’s more healthy. Congratulations you’ve been betrayed, if you care. Personally, I don’t, I like Lucky Charms. But if you want semi-healthy you want off-brands with nuts and grains and dried processed fruits, and even then, they’re not all that healthy. You want healthy, grind your own homegrown oatmeal and cook it on the stove instead of in the microwave."

Clint stares at him for what feels like an entire minute before Thor reiterates, “Pop Tarts.”

"Or get Pop Tarts," Tony agrees with a light shrug. "They’ve got at least three times the sugar of commercial cereals. And they’ve got those little sprinkles on top. God I love those."

"I’ve been to the grocery store," Steve says, eyes distant, a man who’s seen too much in his time. "There are hundreds of kinds of salad dressing. Cereal boxes in every color and kind.”

"Cocoa Puffs," Natasha says before she walks away, done with the conversation.

"Pop tarts," Thor corrects. "Tony is right. Their sprinkles make me happy."

"Says the man with the metabolism of a God," Bruce snorts. 

"You ate ten boxes of Pop Tarts last week."

"I was also huge and green and couldn’t die if I ate ten boxes of nuclear waste."

Bruce cocks his head at Thor. “Just because we’re working on a similar metabolism doesn’t mean it’s good for humanity.”

"Wow you two just G.I. Joe special messaged this thing into a whole other realm," Tony comments.

"What’s G.I. Joe?" Thor and Steve ask in unison.

Clint cuts out then, and fuck, why is it his week to buy groceries? Yeah, they all have to go through it, but it’s only week three of all of them trying to live together.

He grabs a cart, wheels through the grocery store, and he’s got a list that mostly guides him, but fuck them all, they’re right. Making choices in the face of all the ones he’s presented with seems impossible. Grocery shopping wasn’t one of the skills he learned in his field—he’s an order out or eat at a restaurant type of guy.

He contemplates cereal boxes for all of twenty seconds before it’s too much and grabs a box of Cocoa Puffs.

It’s Natasha’s favorite. Good enough.

And God said “Love Your Enemy,” and I obeyed him and loved myself.
© OCTOMOOSEY