Random Avengers Headcanon Vol. 1
Dec. 16th, 2015 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arukouSteve and Bucky make up slang words and then use them around the tower, trying to convince the others that they were real terms used in the 30s and 40s. On any given day, you can hear things like “Holy Popoky, Tony, this new interface is amazing.” or “Fox News really steams my cabbage.”
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Natasha doesn’t keep a lot for herself. Her apartment is spartan, done entirely in neutral colors, like it was plucked out a design catalog. But in her master bath, she keeps shelves upon shelves of bath salts and solutions acquired on missions all over the world, and once a week, she treats herself to a good long soak with a book. The boys know better than to disturb her.
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Thor is a neatfreak. Sure he breaks glasses and mugs on the floor, but he always meticulously picks up after himself. He says gleaming floors and clear glass remind him of home. His private quarters are spotless, shining, and always smell faintly of lemon and cloves. Tony finds pieces of wooden furniture that carry the same scent all over the tower and he can only assume that Thor has taken to late-night woodwork polishing.
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Clint always wrangles the kids when they’re evacuating civilians, and he always watches over any huddles of kids whose parents have yet to find them. Not just because he’s good with them, but also just because he loves kids. All of them. He loves to make them laugh, and he hates to see them cry. He keeps a set of juggling balls attached to the bottom of his quiver, and when all those kids are crying and terrified, he does juggling tricks for them to make them feel better.
----
Tony Stark never excelled at the humanities. Literature didn’t interest him (save for scifi and the potential to seed invention ideas), philosophy was a snooze, and while he soaked up languages like a sponge, he never particularly enjoyed them. But he loves, loves, loves music. And not just the classic rock he’s got blaring in his workshop. He loves classical. He loves jazz. He loves old-timey standards and electronica. He even loves that stupid bubble gum pop on the top forty charts (though he'd never admit it even under torture.)
He loves playing the piano because when he looks at the keys, he doesn’t just see Bach and Beethoven. He sees harmonic frequencies and clashing sound waves and mathematical possibilities. He sees the Golden Ratio and pi and the Pythagorus constant. (It doesn’t hurt that his mother taught him piano, either.) He’ll never tell the other Avengers, but sometimes when he’s the only one awake, and he can’t focus on code anymore, he’ll slip into the lounge, open up the piano, and play.
----
Natasha doesn’t keep a lot for herself. Her apartment is spartan, done entirely in neutral colors, like it was plucked out a design catalog. But in her master bath, she keeps shelves upon shelves of bath salts and solutions acquired on missions all over the world, and once a week, she treats herself to a good long soak with a book. The boys know better than to disturb her.
----
Thor is a neatfreak. Sure he breaks glasses and mugs on the floor, but he always meticulously picks up after himself. He says gleaming floors and clear glass remind him of home. His private quarters are spotless, shining, and always smell faintly of lemon and cloves. Tony finds pieces of wooden furniture that carry the same scent all over the tower and he can only assume that Thor has taken to late-night woodwork polishing.
----
Clint always wrangles the kids when they’re evacuating civilians, and he always watches over any huddles of kids whose parents have yet to find them. Not just because he’s good with them, but also just because he loves kids. All of them. He loves to make them laugh, and he hates to see them cry. He keeps a set of juggling balls attached to the bottom of his quiver, and when all those kids are crying and terrified, he does juggling tricks for them to make them feel better.
----
Tony Stark never excelled at the humanities. Literature didn’t interest him (save for scifi and the potential to seed invention ideas), philosophy was a snooze, and while he soaked up languages like a sponge, he never particularly enjoyed them. But he loves, loves, loves music. And not just the classic rock he’s got blaring in his workshop. He loves classical. He loves jazz. He loves old-timey standards and electronica. He even loves that stupid bubble gum pop on the top forty charts (though he'd never admit it even under torture.)
He loves playing the piano because when he looks at the keys, he doesn’t just see Bach and Beethoven. He sees harmonic frequencies and clashing sound waves and mathematical possibilities. He sees the Golden Ratio and pi and the Pythagorus constant. (It doesn’t hurt that his mother taught him piano, either.) He’ll never tell the other Avengers, but sometimes when he’s the only one awake, and he can’t focus on code anymore, he’ll slip into the lounge, open up the piano, and play.
