so cute ;;;;;

Doodle of the cute dorks…
Hmm, i’m wondering about what they are whispering in eachother’s ears…
Ps: Astrid playing with Hiccup’s hair is the cutest thing ever amirite?

b ut imagine
michael and jeremy on the last level of apocalypse of the damned
aND THEY FUCKING WIN
and theyre yelling and in the heat of the moment
michael just leans over and fucking kISSES JEREMY
and they pull apart after a moment and it’s awkward
and jeremy’s like “u-um, that was, p-pretty awesome,”
and michael’s like “okay dork i’ll do it again”

sealkitty  asked:

Discovering this blog was the best thing that happened to me today. Thank you for existing and thank you for all the art. If I'm sad I'll remember to come here and look at all the happy Spheals. Have a nice day, Spheal! ( •ω• )つ

You’re too kind. Also, a seal kitty sounds adorable! :3

asamandra  asked:

Hi, for the drabble thing... how about Ironhawk and 1 (“Come over here and make me.”) :D

Sorry this took so long! It was really fun to write though, I hope you enjoy it!


“Honestly Stark, can you just shut up for five minutes?” Clint says as he rubs his bandaged left temple tenderly, the previous day’s mission had left them all a little worse for wear, though Clint had garnered the worst of it after slamming into the side of a building. Tony managed to catch him as the archer continued to fall the next ten stories but the fact that Iron Man hadn’t made it in time to catch Hawkeye before the hit put everyone on edge. The tension had ran thick through the tower as the Avengers scraped themselves together and headed home.

Clint busies himself in the kitchen, his face hidden as he prepares two cups -coffee and something else, tea maybe- for himself and Natasha; his tone is light but the undercurrent of annoyance slithers through, Tony winces slightly. No one had explicitly blamed Tony for Clint’s injury or the subsequent injuries that the team accumulated due to the lack of additional range support, but that didn’t mean Tony didn’t feel incredibly guilty.

“No can do birdbrain,” Tony says with a sly grin, the black eye he’s sporting twinges at the pull of skin; he bites down the fissure of hurt that threatens to take over. “No one else minds my beautiful voice.” He sweeps away from the archer and moves towards the sunken lounge to claim the solitary rocker in the corner, his left arm crosses protectively over his stomach while his right hand cradles his own steaming cup of coffee.

“No one said that Stak,” Natasha hums from the couch across from him; she looks up from the novel she’s reading and smirks, it’s playful and Tony relaxes minutely.

“You wound me Nat, enemies on all sides I swear-”

“Can it Stark,” Clint barks, his face is pale and drawn but the glare he levels at Tony ignites a spark of pain in his chest that has nothing to do with the Arc Reactor. Clint moves to the couch Natasha is stretched across and perches himself on the arm. He places the cup of tea on the nearby coffee table which Nat reaches for almost immediately; she winces slightly as the movement jostles her wrapped ankle which sits elevated atop several pillows.

“I’m starting to want you to come over here and make me.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can catch them as they sweep over the three of them. Steve had left hours ago to meet with director Fury about their previous mission while Bruce retreated back to his lab after breakfast and Thor hadn’t bothered to even grace them with his presence at the table that morning.

Tony had been grateful, the fewer people he had to deal with after such a shit mission the better, but this was certainly not what he had wanted for his morning.

Natasha levels him with a soft gaze, her green eyes seem to dissect and catalog every scrap of intel as they sweep over Tony -he fidgets uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Clint simply rolls his eyes and huffs loudly.

“What’s your fucking problem Barton?” Tony bites out sharply, his nerves are grated and slowly rising alongside the tension swirling through the lounge.

Clint slips off the arm of the couch, his blue eyes narrowed, and sets his cup down on the coffee table.

“No,” Natasha interjects as Clint steps towards the rocker, Tony roughly sets his cup on the floor and rises to his feet, “no, no, no, no. Take this somewhere else, I am not getting up for whatever this is, work it out somewhere else.” With that she sets down her cup as well and proceeds to open her novel once more.

Tony grits his teeth and glances back at the archer, Clint jerks his head to the hall and begins to limp towards the doorway. Dread blooms in Tony’s chest as he watches his friend stalk out of the room.

“Good luck!” Natasha calls from the couch, a small smile playing on her lips, Tony resists the urge to flip her off as he slips into the hall.

Clint is already halfway to the elevator by the time Tony catches up to him.

“Where-”

“Sparring room.” Clint grunts.

Tony swallows the sarcastic vitriol on the tip of his tongue and nods sharply as they reach the elevator; the doors slide open to welcome them, “J, seventh floor,” Tony mutters.

“Sir if I may-”

“Mute Jarvis.”

Tony closes his eyes and breathes deeply in through his nose; there are no actual weapons in the sparring room -thankfully- but that doesn’t mean Clint won’t be able to inflict maximum damage as a highly trained Shield agent, even in his current state.

Things had been going well, Tony laments as he chances a glance up at Clint, they had been bonding prior to the incident in the field. Clint was incredibly witty and easy to talk to, not in the same way as Bruce because no one could replace his science-bro, but he reminded him of the smooth give and take Tony had with Rhodey back in MIT. It was as easy as breathing, they usually sat together during movie nights with Natasha on Clint’s other side, Tony would attend Clint’s testing sessions as he worked out the kinks in his new bows and arrows; it was comfortable. Being with Clint was like coming home and woah…well that was new…huh, shit.

The doors open and Tony shakes himself back to the present, Clint has already exited the elevator and moves swiftly towards the mats in the center of the room; at least this ass kicking will be slightly cushioned, he thinks miserably.

“Look Clint-”

“Get over here Tony, we need to have a discussion.”

Tony’s heart starts thumping in his chest as adrenaline floods his extremities, his brain is running a mile a minute but it’s hard to focus on the techniques Natasha and Happy had gone over with him for hand to hand combat. There was something important about the elbow…but-

Clint rolls up his sleeves, small bandages litter his arms from the window panes that had exploded on his impact with the building.

Tony widens his stance and raises his arms as Clint moves towards him, “Clint really-”

“Can you just shut up for once,” Clint breathes as he snatches the front of Tony’s shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

Tony’s brain short circuits.

Clint’s mouth moves roughly over his own, his tongue slips into Tony’s mouth and swirls around to touch and claim every inch. Tony’s lips explode at the pressure and contact as Clint turns his head to the side; how on earth did they get here, not that he’s complaining. Hands move from his shirt to the line of his jaw and the back of his head, Clints hands grasp at the thick brown curls, Tony lets out a small moan at the sensation.

Tony’s heart thrums at the contact, his pulse rapid and loud in his ears as he simply lets himself be taken into the kiss. Tony raises his own hands to wrap around Clint’s neck and steps forward into the archers taller frame.

Clint pulls back slowly, his hands are still wrapped around Tony’s head and jaw, and looks down into dilated brown eyes; Tony’s lips are red and swollen from the harsh kiss, Clint lets out a soft hum at the sight.

“Wha-What um,” Tony stutters, licking his lips as though to soothe them, “What the hell was that? I mean, not that I didn’t like it, but seriously-”

“Tony,” Clint laughs, it’s light and familiar and he curls even more into Clint’s arms, “I’m sorry-”

“So it was an apology kiss?”

“No, just, jesus, let me get through this alright?” He’s glaring at this point but Tony’s smile is wide and bright and soon Clint can’t help but grin back.

“I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at me, well that and I still had a major headache,” Tony slips one hand up to gently touch at the bandage placed on Clint’s temple, he nods, “but I was mostly mad at myself…with what happened yesterday, I realized that I needed to let you know how I felt in case I never got the chance to.”

Tony freezes in surprise as Clint pulls him closer to breathe in his ear, “I like you, I’ve liked you for a long time and I want to date your dumbass.”

“What?” Tony says, his voice small, it’s smaller than he’s ever heard himself and it makes him cringe at the display. All of a sudden he’s turned into this dithering ball of mush and-

“Hey, I can hear you thinking way too hard all the way over here,” Clint says softly, his blue eyes are crinkled at the corners, “relax, talk to me.”

Tony is silent for a moment, his brain running through every smile Clint threw his way, every lingering touch, every wisecracking joke, every late night in the lounge talking about their nightmares.

He breathes out.

“Yeah,” Tony grins, “let’s talk.”