"We have…mead pie. Beer pie. And for the truly daring…Fimbulvinter pie."
I think we’re burying the lead. Thor made veggie burgers and that is hilarious
BRING FORTH THE PIES
THEY HAVE MADE READY SUCH PASTRIES :D
we’re all on the same page re: his Batman but I submit to you that his Bruce Wayne would be out of this world all chuckles and goofball smiles and unintentional sext selfies and tuxedos and acting sloppy drunk yet maintaining full adorableness he’d be pulling faces and wearing Kanye shutter shades at the polo and he’d have a casual shoe collection that needed its own room and everybody would be like ‘daawww that Bruce Wayne what an airhead but so cute right? did you hear he bought lunch for like 8 paparazzos who were waiting for him outside his fave restaurant?’ and he’d just be this big goofy pouty celeb built like a brick shithouse meanwhile he’s working out on the parallel bars in the batcave - face like thunder and the righteous fury of all time (tags from harrietvane)
The day I don’t reblog this gif set…someone check my pulse.
Welcome to the Hiddleston fandom.
I’ve lost count of the number of times this gifset has appeared on my dash AND EVERYTIME IT DOES I JUST REBLOG IT BECAUSE IT IS A SIN TO NOT REBLOG SUCH UNPARALLELED BEAUTY
Can we all just take a moment to bask in the hotness that is teenage Clark Gregg
5 Times Clint Jerks Off to a Stolen Picture From Coulson’s File and Feels like a Dirty Old Man After
From a frantic gchat to mamaliza today, after I stopped throwing up rainbows:
I think Clint would NOT make out with thisPhil, because he doesn’t want to fuck up with HIS Phil. But I think this Phil is going to push hard enough that Clint snaps one day and presses him back against the wall, thigh shoved between Phil’s and just growls “You’re not going to get this, kid. As much as I want to give it to you, as much as I want to throw you over Stark’s sofa and make you scream for me, it’s not. gonna. happen. so back. off.”
And I think that young Phil would jerk off to that voice for the rest of the time he’s in this body, and also leave voice messages for now-Phil that are like “ARE YOU A FUCKING MORON? YOU ARE, AREN’T YOU. YOU ARE A SOULLESS ROBOT IF YOU ARE NOT HAVING SEX WITH CLINT BARTON.”
SCREAMING UNTIL THE END OF TIME at the accuracy of all of this ohmygod because seriously CLINT IS NOT A FUCKING SAINT OKAY, but he’s not fucking this up, he’s not going to have HIS Phil coming back and being disappointed in his lack of control, they only JUST started to circle each other and figure all this sexual tension bullshit out, and just because a stupid Asgardian curse turned Coulson into the twink from all of Clint’s deepest, darkest fantasies doesn’t mean Clint’s gonna throw everything away to watch this kid blush and bit his lip and gasp Clint’s name as he arches his neck……
nope. not gonna happen.
Clint gets SO MUCH SHIT from Tony and Nat and even JASPER about how he’s going to be able to fulfill some of those fantasies, with Phil wandering around in sweatpants that fall way too low on his hips and tshirts he borrows from Clint because this Phil things older Phil’s wardrobe is AWFUL, jesus, and Clint just wants to scream and punch things because HE HAS THOUGHT ABOUT IT, OKAY? HE HAS THOUGHT ABOUT IT QUITE A LOT, but he’s not going to fuck this lithe, gorgeous version of Phil who wants to go to rock shows and asks Clint where he can score some premium weed, because when (WHEN!!) he finally gets HIS Phil back, he needs to be able to look him in the goddamned eyes.
That does not make it easy to say no! For Clint, who is almost PROGRAMMED to do what Phil tells him to do, it’s weeks of TORTURE.
SO MUCH TORTURE!!! Clint has been fucking waterboarded, okay, he knows what the fuck he’s talking about, but even that seems like a goddamn walk in the park compared to a very drunk and very underaged Phil stumbling into Clint’s room, smiling sweetly as he sways on his feet with his obscene pink mouth all wet and his ridiculously pretty blue eyes wide and a bit bloodshot, saying, “I’m almost seventeen, that’s legal in, like, a lot of states,” and Clint wants to scream that HIS Phil would know exactly which fucking states those are, but at the same time this Phil is kneeling on Clint’s bed and looking at from under the dark fringe of his lashes and licking over that mouth before he whispers, “I’m not that different, am I?” and Clint bites out, “Yes. You are,” even as his stomach swoops and his mouth floods with saliva.
"You want me," Phil says, sure and stupid like only teenagers can be, and the problem is that Phil is 100000% right about that. Clint lets him drift closer, lets him lean in, thinking he’s going to get what he wants, before Clint flips him neatly and handcuffs him to the headboard with his emergency ‘no, Natasha they are not for sex… mostly’ cuffs. He takes some serious satisfaction in the squawking noise Little Phil makes as he does it.
Phil look up, shakes the cuffs. “Kinky,” he says, but his eyes are too wide, his breathe too shallow, and he’s definitely a little freaked out. GOOD, Clint thinks. ”Sleep it off,” he says, getting up and grabbing his boots and his jacket and heading to sleep on Nat’s floor.
"You can’t just <i>leave me here</i>," Phil yells at his back, and Clint makes the strategic error of looking back, seeing Phil laid out on his bed, his shirt rucked up almost to his armpit as he struggles with the cuff. (This is how he knows this isn’t his Phil - his Phil would have been out of that handcuff by now, and would probably have figured out how to use it to take Clint down.) Clint leaves without a word, his heart thudding in his chest, and ends up in the gym at 2am, beating the hell out of a heavy bag until he’s too tired to go back to his room and deal with… that.