Chris Evans Is Literally The Most Stereotypical Straight Man Ever Like He Drinks Beer And He’s From

This comes up on Snopes as false.

ALRIGHT. LISTEN UP.

So recently, I got calls from the phone number, (937) 353-8319. They claim to be a job service, and one of their “employees”, Carrigan, is friends with whoever the call recipient is, and that Carrigan has recommended you for this $15.00/h “job”. I also got a text message from (937) 607-1493, claiming to be Carrigan, and that they need stuff to “win a scholarship”. I do not know anyone by the name of Carrigan and I know very well that this is a very dangerous scam. If you receive a call from a number, and they ask you if you would like a job for $15.00/h, HANG UP IMMEDIATELY. If you accept the “job” offer, and you go in for an interview, they will give you a drugged bottle of water and you will wake up somewhere you don’t want to be. These phone calls & texts are from a human trafficking service, and if you oblige to them, you will be sold to people and you will be raped, no doubt about it. So PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT ANSWER THESE CALLS OR TEXTS. I have listened to the voicemails, and allowed my dad to do the same, and he learned that anyone offering a $15.00/h “job” is a human trafficker. PLEASE SIGNAL BOOST THIS ALL OVER TUMBLR

The Merchant and the Soldier

Summary: Tony is a sick man. A cold man. He is fractured like the dying light.

Hands reach out and ask for more; money, weapons, power, contracts, apologies. They'd ask for his heart if they thought he had one. - In which Tony and Bucky have a solemn conversation in the early morning hours, and in which Tony struggles to hide his cruel urges and Bucky battles with his own broken mind.

"Of Glory, Honor, and the Road to Redemption" companion piece. (Does not need to be read to read this)

Link to series -> Of Glory, Honor, and the Path to Redemption

Warnings: confused state of mind, very brief mention of murder, suggested sociopath tony stark

Tony Stark is a sick man. A cold man. He is fractured like the dying light.

The others, they don't know this.

They see him as the world sees him; an egotistical man, even if that ego is valid.

It doesn't bother him most days. In fact, after Tony accepted he simply would never be friends with the rest of the Avengers, his life became easier.

The team thought him naive and childish, always pushing him away. Steve's pursed lips, Wanda's rolled eyes, Natasha's suspicious glares, Sam's grimaces. Barnes, of all people, actually tried to be amicable.. as amicable as a lost and feral soul can be.

But he had Pepper and Rhodey, and Happy and Gene. So quietly, wrathfully, Tony put distance between them, holding his head high and flashing that billion dollar smile.

Quickly he had settled back into his old routine.

Wake up (gasping), stumble (blearily), then settle (achingly) into his lab.

Invent (breathlessly); invent (tirelessly); invent (euphorically); until his legs give out and he collapses, once again thrashing in sleepless fits.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

They never noticed him, nor asked about him, unless something came up. It was alright. It was soothing. Between the White House, Wakanda, Stark Industries, SHIELD, and every terrorist from New York to Timbuktu, Tony really didn't have the energy to entertain backstabbing 'friends'.

The ignorance towards him quelled his ever present rage and helped him hide when he slipped up. When Tony lost control for a moment and everything rushed to a torrent between his ears, knuckles whitening, thoughts of revenge and vehemence urging him to kick them from his tower.

Eyes that judge never see the truth, and hands that are bitten eventually recoil. "But it would not be today," Tony tells himself calmly, with a smile, as he wipes coffee and shards from his hands. DUM-E beeps solemly, sweeping the remnants of a shattered mug away.

Hands reach out and ask for more; money, weapons, power, contracts, apologies. They'd ask for his heart if they thought he had one.

What a joke.

I need a new bow.

Sigh.

My suit is torn.

Twitch.

Upgrade the helicarrier by next Friday.

Breathe.

Gala at 6, conference at 11.

Smile.

Don't you have somewhere else to be?

Calm.

Nowdays it seemed to be Doctor Doom and his stupid Doombots, terrorizing New York and Chicago. Cap would call for him and they would all meet for a few hours. Defeat Doom for a day, and retreat.

Sometimes.., sometimes Tony would consider just ending Doom.

Killing him.

Feeling the man's skull squelch between his armored fingers. Laughing estatically as blood seeped into the carpet..

The man's infuriating plans were novice, but still destructive. Yet if he did.. that, Tony would never leave his tower. What would be the point? It would be rare for civilians to even be injured during these fights, so it really wasn't that bad to let Doom live. Not with the original Avengers, sans Clint, Thor, and Bruce, plus Spiderman, Barnes, Ant-man, Vision, and the twins. Together they formed a formidable team. They had every twist, turn, bullet, and bounce fine tuned to a well oiled and righteous fist.

At night when the world is asleep, he stands with a glass of whiskey and stares out across the twinkling skyline.

One time, Barnes happens upon him.

The reformed assassin appears surprised. Of course, Tony thinks, what kind of nutter stands in the shadows like a statue.

"Sorry," Barnes croaks out, turning to leave.

"Don't be," Tony hums. "Want one?"

The taller man half turns to face him with confusion written across his face.

Tony clinks his glass.

"Oh.. uh.."

"Sure," Tony supplies. "Come here," he gestures.

The faint city lights illuminate James Barnes as the man steps forward tentatively, feeling cornered and uncertain.

"I won't bite,” the industrialist hums. It’s almost a giggle; humorous and childlike.

Pouring amber liquor into a crystal glass, Tony moves from the shadows into the dim lighting with grace. "Here."

Barnes stares at him. Eyes wide and blue like a puppy, and finally, Tony does not feel thunderous cruelty in his veins.

"I.. thanks." Barnes replies, carefully taking the glass.

Moments of silence pass between them, comfortable for Tony and eerie for Barnes, before the supersoldier can't take the strange interaction any longer.

"Can't get drunk," he grunts, eyes cast far away and beyond the city, likely reliving horrors unimaginable. "Serum stops it."

Tony quirks an eyebrow, bringing his glass to his lips. "Not even on Asgardian mead?"

Barnes shrugs, "Haven't tried it. Could-could you imagine a raging drunk Winter Soldier?"

Tony stills and Barnes thinks he never should have accepted the drink, until Tony's cackling, biting laughter explodes across the balcony and into the night. Barnes jumps for a moment, rattled, but still smiles a little.

"That'd be pretty bad," Tony laughs raucously, "HOO THA HEEEYL IS BUHKEE?" he grunts out in a gravelly baritone, pulling a sour face. He wheezes as he laughs.

Incredulously, Barnes gapes at the mans audacity before his own laughter bubbles up, long forgotten and disused. They collapse against the railing, giggling like children, and bask in a strange but shared moment of comfort.

Tony sighs as he leans against a pillar, "Fuck this place. Just fuck it."

Barnes, who is still leaning against the railing in a state of bewilderment, turns his head. Tony’s moods were giving him whiplash but he wondered if the man was always like this and he had just never noticed. "Are you drunk, Stark?"

"No," the darker haired man snorts. "I'd need another ten, maybe twelve of these to be."

Barnes contemplates him silently, unsure of how to reply. He needn't have bothered, though, as Tony powered on.

"Don't you get sick of them?" Tony spat, face crinkling in anger. "The 'team'. Above everyone else, all mighty and just. Anyone can throw a shield or a knife, shoot someone in the head, and pretend they're a hero. Guess the only difference is, sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren't."

The Soldier is stunned and uncertain of what to say. Words do not come easily to him anymore. They are foreign and rusted, and if he isn't careful, inflict as much damage as his vibranium fist. He chooses his words carefully, certain the genius is aware of their weight, and likely, a victim of the same scathing repertoire the media aims at himself.

"They aren't fond of you," he begins lowly, "Because of your intelligence." It comes off as more of a question, and to which Tony mutely shakes his head. "Or because you don't fall in line," Barnes offers, feeling a dusty resurgence of fear towards his prior handlers. It hits him like a train and he supposes, if it's true, then he hadn't left it all behind him after all.

Tony confirms it with a bitter grin, "Bingo, amigo," he hisses. "What use is a soldier if I don't follow orders like a good little dog. Problem is I'm not a soldier and they know it. Pawns of war aren't supposed to be variables."

Barnes stays quiet, bothered by this revelation.

"You know why Natasha doesn't like me?" Tony asks, draining his glass. "When she applied to SI, I knew who she was. You can't hide from me," the man hisses, fist clench dangerously tight around the crystal glass. Tony's tone rattles him to the bone, stoking his paranoia. It’s so unlike the officious and enthused man who usually blitz’s around the labs, and more like a man.. a memory, vague, comes to mind. Probably someone from the war. From Stevie.. 

Of course, Barnes knew all about Widow's espionage. He had read their files; studied scrupulously to confirm Steve's assurances that they are not in fact HYDRA.

"She knows that now, she must. I let her join Pepper. SHIELD wanted something and I was interested. Her report, as I'm sure you know," he spoke dryly, "Stated 'Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no.' Simple verbiage, clear intent. But what they overlooked is even simpler. I had a change of heart in Afghanistan- declared a symptom of PTSD, but SI was only the company. Those weapons came from here," he tapped his temple. "Natasha took too long to realise this. Now she is weary of me. Thinks I'm a loose cannon. Naive. But she doesn't understand. Without me, SHIELD would not have been resurrected. The bows, the arrows, the Widows bites, the jets. They are me and I am them. The suit can fly and fight, but it's little more than a drone with a detonator without me,"

"Then why do you stay?" Tony shrugs half heartedly, eyes set hard upon central park.

He hums. "Thanos is coming."

A shiver races down the taller man's spine, icy like the tundra, like his old bed, like 1944. "For Pepper."

"For Pepper," Tony nods, "And Gene, and Happy and Rhodey, and humanity. What is right is not often wanted."

They return to a quiet, solemn companionship. In which Tony muses over his nightmares, over Thanos, the gaping void in the sky, and the blood thrumming in his veins. In which Barnes feels hollow, and cold, and longs for warmth and acceptance, but falls short, always riddled with paranoia as he fights the voice in his head. Eventually as the stars start to wink out, one by one, and the traffic below grows louder, James Barnes straightens up and asks one final question.

"If we live," comes the hoarse, tired words, "What will you do after?"

Tony bites his lip, hand wavering, before he drops his glass off the side and watches it plummet two hundred stories to the alley below. "The same as usual, pumpkin. Smile, wave, and dance. That's my job. Why, you think we won't win?"

Barnes looks at him sideways, wondering how this walking paradox of a man can be so raw yet so confident. "No." He admits. "Loki called him 'the Mad Titan'. The wizard is scared."

Tony breaks a real smile for a moment. "Wizards. Yeah, well, Loki's scared of Gene, too. Giant pussy cat."

Barnes just shakes his head, turning away from the balcony. "How come you aren't scared?"

Tony is strutting off with his hands in his pockets when he shrugs, and Barnes can almost see the smile on his face. "Oh, honeybun. Don't you know? I'm the Merchant of Death."

jack & diane

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis For:  @phoenix-173 Prompt:  Phone Sex Operator AU

Bucky stared at the business card in his hand, half in disbelief that he was even considering doing this, and half in blind excitement at what was about to happen.  

It was true, it had been a while for him. For a lot of things.  

Sex.  Emotional connections.

He’d had the card for Clandestine Calls for a while now, but hadn’t felt the need to use it until recently.  He hadn’t had a reason to fix this part of himself.

But he’d felt a twinge of something the other day.  A twinge of something akin to attraction. For a woman.  A woman he knew, and thought highly of. Someone he respected.  And he’d panicked.  He’d absolutely panicked.       

And this?  This didn’t feel as cringey (or illegal) as hiring an actual…call girl would be.  It was just practice.

Or at least, that’s what he was telling himself as he logged into the website.

And he wouldn’t even have to engage in anything sexual. And if he wanted, he could just hang up.  And these women wouldn’t hold it against him.  No one was getting hurt.  

Except, possibly, his credit card balance.

A chat window popped up immediately.  Someone from customer service wanting to help him through the process.

Whether it was a bot or a real person, the rep was nice, informative.  They explained the blocks of time he could choose from.  The first was five minutes.  The second, an extension to seven, the third, an extension to twelve and so on. He chose the seven minute block to start, mostly because he wasn’t sure if he was even going to do anything this time around.  But five seemed too short a time to decide.

An extra two minutes, though.  That was apparently where the magic happened.  

He was directed to a payment page, where he gave his credit card information.  So his real name was attached to this account.  But that was something to be kept secret, apparently.  This company prided themselves on their ability to keep things confidential.  Because the next question after he entered his credit card info was what he’d prefer to be called.  

Jack, he’d typed, coming up with the name out of necessity because he suddenly couldn’t think of anything besides his real name.

Your consultant’s name is ‘Diane’, have a good time.

A number was listed below.

Diane.  

Most assuredly a fake name.  As fake as ‘Jack’ was, at any rate.

Jack & Diane.  

Kind of funny, now that he thought about it.

Possibly to be continued as long as no one else is writing anything similar…

Long may she reign. 

Peom by Steeb.

Oh god I wrote a thing:

my name is Steeb and wen is night wen Avengers sleeping tite Hawkeye snorin in his nest wif teddy snuggled to his chest Widow in her webby place Bruce is somwher out in space

Tony werkin on his soots an Vision doin teh computes even Wanda disnt see or Sam when he get up to pee Thor he is not evn heer (probly on asgard drinkin beer) I sneek down to tha hangar bay an get in quinjet on my way

to Wakanda I will fly peopl no the reason why no one sees me i am lucky

i pres defrost i kis the Bucky

Like A Whisper In The Night pt2

Pairing: BuckyxOFC | Word Count: 5,178 | Warnings: Swearing, talk of human trafficking

Previous Chapter

Chapter Two

Layne opened her eyes when she felt the quinjet touch down on the tarmac. She groaned and stretched her cramped shoulder muscles, her attention grabbed by Greg Andrews who was yelling at them all through a strip of fabric that he was being gagged with. 

“Welcome back, kid,” Steve chirped pleasantly, clapping his right hand on her knee. Layne smiled softly, still unused to any real interaction with the main squad. Bucky just caught her eyes with his and gave a reaffirming smile. 

Bucky had spent the flight back to Stark Tower keeping a careful side eye on Layne as she napped. He bantered with Steve and Nat with Clint adding his own snarky remarks here and there. Whenever the quinjet jostled, even a little, his eyes immediately shot over to Layne to make sure she wasn’t disturbed. It wasn’t until touchdown that he had gently tapped her away with his foot, pretending not to notice Steve and Nat smirking at each other.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “What are you guys going to do with Greg?” 

Natasha got up and opened the door to the quinjet; hopping out she offered her hand to Layne which was gratefully accepted. 

Steve attached his shield to his back and took Andrews when Bucky passed him off. “We’re going to take him down to holding. Black Widow will be heading the interrogation.” He answered, his hand holding Greg Andrews’ upper arm firmly making the older man walk nearly on his tiptoes.  

“Can I come watch?” Layne asked, hope filling her voice. The team seemed to be warming up to her, and she was hoping she could ride out that good luck into actually seeing Natasha in action.  

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Darcy and Bucky. 60: Before you decide to murder me, let me explain...

“Damn neat freak. Why can’t he just leave things out where I need them?” Darcy muttered as she shuffled through Steve’s desk as carefully as possible. If she’d had more time to take photo evidence and ensure she put everything back where it was, she would have. But she’d only been able to convince Nat to kick Steve’s ass for two bouts in the ring, maybe three tops. She didn’t want to encourage too much saltiness between teammates, after all.

“I don’t know if it’s the army or your own tight-assed nature Steve, but why the hell do you have to hide your stuff?”

He’d let her go through his sketches a week earlier and she’d found it. The perfect image she needed for her next attack on Sam. Steve had doodled him as a pin-up model, flirty posture, heels and everything. And it was the exact logo she needed to brand her new assault. Literally. If only Steve hadn’t taken away the notebook as soon as he heard her mildly evil chuckle. Spoilsport. 

If she could just find the damn sketchbook.

She had just started gently rifling through the sock drawer when there was a soft click and the door swung open behind her. Her hands clenched and she plastered a placating smile on as she turned her head. But her teasing cajole died in her throat. That wasn’t Stevie Wonder Boy at the door.

It was Bucky.

Shit.

“Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

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Reblog if you want a cute lil love letter from a fictional character or actor from your blog. I’ll write every one and put it in your ask box.

I wrote 'Accidental' Assault on my tablet and I'm really afraid that typing the last part will be lost to tumblr's app crashes.. 😃😂😢 But it'll be up in the next 3 hours

IF HE DOES I’LL LIVE FOREVER LMFAO ,, Also should I write one shots?? Request characters for me.