cleavageandclaws:

venomblasting:

Depends on your scene. Yours? Some wouldn’t last five minutes. 

     “If five minutes pass without somebody hitting the floor it’s not even a party.”

“And tell me, how are they hitting the floor, now?”

raisinghavok:

venomblasting:

“A commendable philosophy. I wonder what goodies they’ll have on you.”

 “Probably something lame like; doesn’t take orders from me signed Steve Rogers. Or maybe it’ll be about me breaking Janet’s heart, whatever.”

“Part of that would be in my file, too. And don’t worry, if Janet can get over Hank Pym, she can get over you. I think. If… listen, boys and love life advice aren’t my thing. Anyway, I guarantee you they probably have some weird false accusations about you. Because, you know, they just love mutants. And the X-men.”

americasfinestlegacy:

venomblasting:

HOW DARE YOU?

I’M A GROWN MAN. I DON’T NEED TO TELL YOU SQUAT.

DON’T USE THAT TONE OF VOICE WITH ME!

YOU’RE GROUNDED. NO THROWING STARS FOR A WEEK

…crap.

HOW DARE YOU?

and you didn’t tell your mother??

arrowslinger:

_{❛  I’m not BREAKING the law, just . . . ❜  HE LOOKS AT her as though invoking a CURSE or some blessing, concentration strumming nicks between his brows in his rustle for the right word. & when he finds it, it POPS off his tongue, firecracker snap.  ❛  ———–STRETCHING it. Like we  A L L  do.  ❜  ———– @venomblasting}

Behind the yellow lenses of her glasses, Jessica’s eyes squinted into slits. “Clint—” She started, as she usually did. “We’re always breaking the law. Don’t try and justify it any other way. So, what is it this time, huh?” 

youusedme:

venomblasting:

Jessica had to laugh at that. “Come on, you won the Revolution. And 1812. The least we can do is take down the Sentinel of Liberty with our tea scented socks.” She paused for a moment. “Hey, does this place have any tea bags? Because I heard those hurt.” 

Although with the next response Jessica had to raise a brow. She couldn’t very much judge the hand sewing of a costume, seeing as that’s how her original costume came to be. Or at the very least, how she repaired it after every battle.

            (Not the safest strategy.)

“You purposely gave yourself a bigger cut out then the Black Cat?”

★— ❛   _{Smelled more like} CHEESE _{than tea if I’m honest – or is that the new invention you have? I know you Brits are INVENTIVE with your tea flavours.} ❜

               _{He continued to give her that side-ward frown that indicated more of a jest rather than carrying any seriousness to it.} ❛  _{No, I think I’ll avoid being hit by tea-bags. I’ll stick to good ol’ coffee beans, even though I don’t encourage you throwin’ ‘em at me unless you want an angry Iron Man flying in and complaining as to why there’s no coffee.} ❜

              ❛  _{It wascooling – and it was warm at the time. Besides, I don’t see the HARM in it – it looked good. I remember Tony said I looked great and he goes to loads of those fashion shows…} ❜

“If you’re implying that my feet smell, I’m going melt your shield into Tony’s new helmet.” Jessica has always been sensitive about the way she smelled. After all, the way she smells influences people’s thoughts. 

She shrugged at that. “I think Tony’s perpetually angry at something. And if he starts something with me, I’ll just turn his helmet into my new favorite coffee mug. But you don’t have to worry, because I may stick to just tossing tea. And maybe the occasional sock ball.” 

At the final notion about Nomad, Jessica laughed. Then sobered up, clearing her throat, putting her closed fist over her mouth. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s just— that’s your best answer? And… you’ve seen some of Tony’s suits, right? He— he had a nose on one of them. And when Iron Man first appeared… yikes. And— no, don’t get me started about when I met him. No, I think you’re better off listening to Janet. She’s the fashionable one.”

americasfinestlegacy:

venomblasting:

Jessica crossed her arms over her chest, still leaning back in her chair. “I know what you’re saying.” She said, pointing her foot at him. “I’m just saying.” With the raise of both of her brows, Jessica nodded. “That’s a sound strategy, actually.”

A sharp breath is followed by wide smile then. Unable to shake the habit of needing to explain himself because sometimes people always took his words the wrong way. “Yeah?” He prompted, grabbing the crumpled up yogurt back to toss at her accusing foot. “We should start with the guy I took down. Hands glued to his pockets so no pick pocketing.”

With her foot, she chased the bag until it fell onto the floor. “I’m not picking that up.” She warned. But then, something in her shifted. “Wait a minute.”

“Hold on, did you say a pick pocket? Like, a petty thief that ranges from a broke twelve year old to professionals on the streets, did this to you? Because I don’t think fighting him down a flight of stairs was the proper solution to that problem, then, my friend.”

colonelrogers:

look at steves curves tho B)