South Park Self

the Stark Family of Dysfunctional Kitchen Appliances

So, it turns out that Avengers fan fiction is adorable. Or, at least, Avengers fan fiction by the immortal scifigrl47 is adorable. (I hasten to assure you that, given the quality of her writing, the obvious banality of "scifigrl47" as a nickname is clearly ironic). She has even reconciled me to Tony/Captain and Barton/Coulson - partially because Avengers slash, in that almost-all-boy environment, is as right and inevitable as it is in LotR; partially because her version of Hawkeye is hysterical; but mostly because she has, with beautiful accuracy, tapped straight into the crying need for some sort of address to the motley bunch of isolated dysfunctionalities who make up the Avengers, which she does by sticking them into a clubhouse together and allowing their dysfunctions to bounce off each other like misguided puppies. Also, there is a sentient toaster and a Roomba army. Run, do not walk, to read everything Avengeroid she has written. I have done so over last night and today, and my stomach muscles are sore from laughing, while there is a clear and present danger that the Evil Landlord thinks I've finally lost it on account of me spending several hours cackling like Nanny Ogg on her fifth martini. Now I shall re-read them all from the start. Go away. Busy.
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