𝗙𝗨𝗧𝗭𝗜𝗡’ 𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥

Same costume as last year and the year before. If it ain’t broke (and you are) don’t fix it!

One perfect shot. That’s all it takes.

Stumbling in after blinding himself with a flashbang arrowhead. “Who’s there? Baron Zemo?! Show yourself!”

how it feels to wake up every day at 6’3” with perfect aim and huge muscles and a fat ass and a big dick and a cool dog

Guess who rocks. Hint: His name starts with ‘Hawk’ and ends with ‘eye’

Lesson one: He’s always got this.

He gave her a wry laugh in reply to her eagerness. “As you wish. But fair warning, I wasn’t jokin’ about the commando thing.” He hit some wide-legged poses, showing off his legs and the angles of the… tunic… thing. The, uh… toga didn’t cover much, to nobody’s surprise.

He likes it when she’s bossy. Scuttling off momentarily, only to saunter back in soon after. His old costume fit just as… flatteringly as it used to. “Whaddya think, hon?”

“Now this costume really brings me back. Would you believe I used to go commando wearing this thing?”

Rough entrance, he knows. He’s working on it.