hedgehog-goulash7:

RDJ and Shaun Toub (Yinsen) – “Iron Man”

I know it’s just backstage dorking around but it genuinely looks like what might have happened if Yinsen had survived and Tony had found him in Gulmira and brought him to work for Stark Industries.

Those last four gifs are like:

“It’s a wonderful workshop you’re building here, Stark. Much nicer than the caves.”

“Yeah, it’s a little slice of heaven. It’s yours, by the way.”

*Yinsen’s silent SAY WHAT NOW face*

“You want to come change the world with me, Yinsen?”

Imagine Obie’s rage.

bdubs8807:

mildswearingat4am:

writing-prompt-s:

The world’s tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it.

Suggestion: The dragon’s definition of “steal” is somewhat loose. It still allows the coin to be used and bartered and change hands–but on one condition: the dragon must be with it at all times.

They become a familiar sight in the marketplace.

“Here’s your change, ma’am. One gold piece.” The merchant holds out a palm, on top of which rests a tiny, brilliantly colored creature clutching a single gold coin.

“That’s a dragon,” you say dumbly. “One piece… and a dragon.”

“Yes.”

You cautiously reach out and attempt to take your change. You tug. It holds. You tug harder. The dragon lets loose a tiny, protective growl.

“Ma’am–no, ma’am, you have to take the dragon, too.”

“Sorry?”

The seller notes your dubious expression. “Not from around here, are ya?” They shrug. “Them’s the rules. Take the coin, take the dragon.”

They wait expectantly. Wondering how the world has so suddenly gone mad, you slowly, slowly hold out your hand.

The dragon perks right up. It scampers from their palm to yours with the coin clamped in its jaws and scales your sleeve with sharp little claws.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” the merchant says. “Spend him soon, now, you hear? At another booth, if you can. He likes to travel.”

From its perch upon your shoulder, the dragon lets out a happy trill.

Bonus: the coin eventually passes to the rogue in a group of travelling adventurers. The dragon becomes the mascot of the entire group, and they lay out a small pile of coins for him to sleep on every night, clutching his coin like a teddy bear.

Testing…Testing

buckyusuallytopstony:

lovelyirony:

@buckyusuallytopstony

“March 27th, 1971,” comes from the video. There’s a baby gurgling, pudgy hands swiping for a bottle. “Subject has been given two doses of the serum over the course of six months, but shows no outward signs of change or internal. This is test three.”

Howard insists on a Thanksgiving dinner. He serves Tony his own plate, cranberry sauce on turkey and mashed potatoes. A roll with butter on the side.

“Thanks?” Tony questions, raising an eyebrow. “You’re being weird.”

“Just eat your food,” Howard says. “It’s Thanksgiving, Anthony.” He shrugs. Puts the mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Finishes everything on the plate. Howard waits until the last possible moment to go to his board meeting. There’s no change with Tony.

They drink to celebrate early admittance into MIT. Howard pours the drinks. Tony wrinkles his nose as the taste hits the back of his throat.

“God, this wasn’t aged correctly.”

Howard is in his lab, recorder on. “It seems that the subject has had no effect with the serum. He is still…himself.” Not strong. Not America’s next hero. Just…just another Stark, and not even Howard at that. “Will resolve to end the testing.”

Tony doesn’t notice it until he hits around twenty-nine. Usually, something changes in the diet, in the intake of food. He should be slowing down, just a little bit. But he isn’t. He’s not even aging. He still looks like he’s twenty-two and straight out of Monaco from a vacation.

He wants to know why.

Finds out his genetic sequence is really fucked up.

And then he accesses Howard’s archives, something Tony swore he’d never touch for the longevity of his life.

His own father hadn’t even called him his own fucking name. It was subject. He had been experimenting on Tony for years, fucking decades. And all to see if Tony could finally measure up to perfectly little Captain America, paragon of virtue and manliness. Not a son who was “off,” not a son who was too sarcastic and too much of a freak.

He decides he needs to learn how to do make-up, special effects.

Makes a new technology that he sells to SHIELD as disguise-wear, and they don’t even think that he’s using it on himself.

At least he looks his age now. Drinks to that.

He can barely get drunk. He used to just think he had the tolerance of a damned giant. Now he knows that he was forced to be that way, and he didn’t even know.

Howard had a lot of “special occasion” bottles of choice.

He drank them all on an uneventful Wednesday, and only woke up with a slight hangover that was gone by eleven. He felt a little bit vicious, a little bit prideful.

Tony Stark is not Howard Stark’s Son anymore. He’s Tony Stark, inventor of the brand new, revolutionary phone, the weapons that make terrorists shake in fear, and Tony Stark, the Best One.

(Turns out he’s still as shitty as he always thought he was, he makes weapons that others sell because they can, and he really should’ve known about it, but stupid fucking Obie–)

He survives Afghanistan because of the serum. He knows it. He can feel his chest slowly on the mend, but it won’t be enough.

He becomes Tony Stark, pioneer for renewable energy and Iron Man. God, he loves Iron Man. He’s his own hero, and he cries when he sees a little girl in her red-and-gold tutu, grinning up at him through face paint.

“Hi Mr. Iron Man!”

He grins at her, signing a postcard. “Keep doing your thing, kiddo.”

They find him. He can’t even believe it. He drops the scotch, drops the ball. Shows more emotion than he should. Coulson probably realizes it.

Steve Rogers, of course, hates him. Because why not? Everyone else should, and it’s a damned miracle that Rhodey, Pep, and Happy don’t. Or maybe they do, and they like their perks and paychecks too much to say anything.

But…

Over the course of a couple months, things start to get better. Steve kind of thinks that Tony isn’t as bad as before? Natasha is nicer now, and they have drinking nights when everything is too much.

“I’m surprised at your tolerance,” she says one day. “You drink like I do.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had more years of experience.”

“Have you?” she teases. “I’m Russian.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he replies in her native tongue, sipping on wine more expensive than anything she’s ever seen. He’s like that. So casual with all the dripping decadence surrounding him.

They find Sergeant Barnes. Tony asks Steve how many Commandos he’s actually planning on having back, because he had met Dernier, and not all of them had to come back. (Uncle Jacques had been an asshole, but a funny one who could teach how to flirt in French.)

Steve just smiles sadly.

He needs a new arm, but no one knows how to give him an arm. The traditional cocktail of drugs won’t work, and Steve has a higher concentration of the serum.

Bucky and Tony are almost an exact match. Not that Bucky knows that, but then again, he probably also couldn’t tell the average Joe how to work an oven. The expression in his eyes is heartbreaking, devastating to see. He has lived too much of this life, but he does not remember it. (It would be such a Mood if it wasn’t so damn depressing.)

After Tony sees Bucky whimpering in pain over the arm when he thinks no one can see him, that settles it.

Tony drags out the tapes. Ignores how fast his heart beats, ignores how Friday asks him if he would like some chamomile tea because “your heart is at an alarming, rate, Sir.”

“I’m used to it, honey pie. Come on, let’s see those tapes.”

He studies them. Drinks a shit ton. He thinks it’s three bottles? It’s high alcohol-proof, so he can actually feel a little bit more buzzed than usual after three. God, isn’t it sad that this is his life? Putting on make-up to advance his actual face, dying his hair to go gray. (It’s fashionable, no?)

He grimly takes another sip of scotch and writes down that if they up the levels of morphine, it might work. Like, a ninety-two percent success. Which is pretty good.

Tony Stark gets to the last tape.

“I am delivering more serum to the facility, and the house. I am thinking that the subject might react more positively with more serum, perhaps I should do this in a hospital scene–”

He breaks down. Of course he does, twenty years too damn late. He can’t stop crying, ugly tears burning hot tears. Make-up streaks. He’s breaking at an alarming rate.

Friday alerts Rhodey, which alerts the rest of the team.

Tony is tired, and sad. They see more of his life.

“Tony…” Rhodey says, eyes wide. “Tony, what the hell did that monster do to you?”

Tony looks up, alarmed. “What the hell are you guys doing here without access?”

“Friday was concerned,” Rhodey answers. “As she should be, considering you never told me or anyone else that Howard injected you with serum and you were…”

There are bottles lying on the floor. Tony is drunk.

Bucky stares at him.

“You’re like me.”

“Had a little bit more time to be a fuck-up,” Tony says. “And that was by my choice.”

Bucky makes the first show of contact since his return two months earlier. It’s large.

It’s a hug.

YES 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I’m loving this!!!

buckyusuallytopstony:

buckyusuallytopstony:

Au where Howard tried to recreate the Super Soldier Serum, but would test them on Tony so he’s not actually 100% normal. It turns out that he’s intentionally putting grey in his hair and using makeup to put wrinkles on his face.

When the Avengers and Bucky come back to the Tower Tony wants to replace Bucky’s arm; however, he doesn’t know what types of drugs would be needed in order to put him under so Tony can replace the shoulder docking. So Tony ends up having to watch Howard’s old research videos of Tony being injected to find out what exactly the Serum is made from and what he needs in order to make an effective surgical anesthesia for Bucky.

And that’s how the team finds Tony. On a drinking binder surrounded by tapes holding his darkest secret.

Tony knew his dad was a busy man so he tried not to get too disappointed whenever his dad couldn’t make time for him. Besides, children games were a waste of time. But sometimes, when he was really good, Howard would let Tony into his lab and tell him stories about Captain America. They would even reenact them!

Howard would put one of those sticky electrode pads on Tony’s chest and one on each side of his temple. Then he’d start the story of Captain America being the small Steve Rogers before he got the Super Serum! Howard would then stick him with a needle, “Look at the camera, boy. We’re making history.”

Tony Stark was 4 years old when he died for the first time, but he didn’t know that until decades later when he’s watching the film reels. He watches as his younger self goes stiff before crumpling to the floor, the machine off to the side lets out screeches as he flatlines, and Howard rushing forward. It was only chaotic for a few seconds then the heart monitor ceases its piercing wail and instead goes back to beeping a steady rhythm. The on-screen Tony lets out shuddering sobs, trying so hard to hold it in and not disappoint his dad, but Tony can remember how much waking up had hurt. It hurt so fucking much.

“That’s enough of that,” Howard’s tone doesn’t hold its usual bite as he rubs his sons back. “Stark men are made of iron. Stark men don’t cry.”

The reel plays on and Tony, feeling detached, watches as Howard ushers past-Tony out of the room. The screen does black for a second then picks back up with Howard leaning against a table. Tony remembers this; it was just a few days after the lab “incident”, as Howard refered to it, and Tony feels an odd sort of glee as his younger self ruins Howard’s shot.

Everything goes red as the reel comes to an end. Tony knew, he fucking knew for years, but hearing Howard’s message at the end was the confirmation that he never wanted. Tony was Howard’s son by blood, but he changed that when he decided to make Tony a Captain America 2.0. Howard poked and injected him with so many things that his DNA is probably different; he was only anther ~~project~~ creation that proves how much Howard wanted to play God. Tony’s chest hurts in a way that has nothing to do with the arc reactor and, not for the first time, he wishes he could get blackout drunk like he could at MIT.

lacrimula-falsa:

Rhodey’s 50th Birthday Celebration Week – Day 1 – Last Flight

For Rhodey’s 50th Birthday Celebration Week – Day 1 – Favourite Appearance:

My favourite Rhodey appearance is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, since that’s the one I know the best.

I really wanted to make a moodboard for this. But alas my laptop is broken so I can’t realise that idea properly. So I wrote a ficlet instead. This is a canon-divergence fic where Infinity War had a happier ending. It was typed on my phone so please forgive any typos. Unbetad.

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

Last Flight

Rhodey retires the War Machine armour.

~~~~~

Rhodey had flown one last flight with Tony. Of course he had. One last time for War Machine and Iron Man to “cleave the heavens” as Thor had rather poetically phrased it.

One last ‘goodbye’ to New York’s sky.

But this, this was for Rhodey alone. Just him, the suit, and no city under him.

Trees and water as far as his eyes could see.

Rhodey banked to the left a little, spiralling down until the armour almost touched the treetops, a few stray branches ‘ping’ing against the dark grey metal.

He was just flying circles. It was nice not to have to go anywhere.

No enemies lighting the HUD up red. No sounds of fighting muffled by the helmet and filters. Just the wind rushing. The steady thrum of the repulsors. Maybe, if he really focused, the sound of the water below.

Rhodey’s cheeks ached from smiling, happiness beating against his ribs like thousands of butterfly wings. This was what freedom felt like.

He’d even flown a few loopings. But he was no spring chicken anymore and piloting the armour was hard work. Eventually the aching in his joints and muscles had convinced him to just cruise for a while.

Rhodey eyed the two tall trees he’d been circling for the last twenty minutes.

Well, maybe one last thing…

He fired up the boot repulsors and zoomed the HUD in, narrowing his eyes at the gap between the trees.

He could make it.

Granted, the park authorities would be pissed if he felled a tree. But what where the chances of that happening?

“Here comes War Machine. You better watch out, trees.”

Rhodey’s pulse picked up as the trees loomed close, the suit’s proximity alerts flaring to life and shading his vision orange. The adrenaline made him feel hot, giddy and shaky, but his flight stayed steady. He’d had some training after all.

He tucked in his arms a little tighter and locked his knees as best he could.

Three… two… one…

In a sharp, precise manoeuvre Rhodey flipped the suit onto its side and flew into the gap between the tree trunks.

There was a short, heart-stopping moment where he thought he’d miscalculated, before the suit zipped through the gap with a loud sound of bark being scraped off by metal, barely audible over the proximity warnings.

War Machine cleared the trees in a shower of wood chips.

Rhodey blew out the breath he’d been holding and immediately soared high for a victory lap.

“WOHOO! WAR MACHINE ROCKS, SUCKERS!”

Realising he was climbing a tad steeply, he adjusted his flight path and fell back into a circle pattern, pulse still thundering in his ears. “

Yeah, still got it.”

Damn but it was good to just fly to fly, without bad guys or pissed of superheroes on your tail. He felt ten years younger already.

~~~

It was a long time still before Rhodey even thought of landing.

He circled, he swooped and dove and climbed and spiralled in random patterns, soaking in the feeling of the armour around him. Free as the proverbial bird.

The stars where just starting to come out when he finally touched down on one of the park’s wooden walkways. A few leaves followed him down from the canopy of trees. He was bone-tired but still smiling.

Opening the faceplate, Rhodey was greeted by the smell of moist leaves and the sound of some of the loudest crickets he’d ever heard competing with the rushing water under his feet. A light breeze cooled the sweat on his face and made him shiver when he finally stepped out of the suit.

The War Machine armour closed behind him with a familiar sound.

He turned around and patted its grey arm, smile dimming somewhat despite his beets intentions. He felt like someone had suddenly made all his bones heavier.

“Well, old buddy. You’ve been one hell of a ride. We had some great times together.”

Resisting the utterly ridiculous urge to hug the armour, Rhodey stepped back and put his right hand on the chestplate, giving the side of the armour one last fond pat with his left.

“This is it, then.”

He cleared his throat against the sudden lump in it.

“War Machine Full System Access. Identify James Rhodes, password ‘honeybearsfireckracker’, code nine-delta-three. Engage Retirement Protocol.”

The suit’s eye-slits lit up green. Instead of a verbal confirmation the suit, charmingly enough, nodded.

Nice gag, Tones.

He stepped away as the boot and palm repulsors lit up.

The helmet’s faceplate turned skyward as if watching the stars rise, the War Machine armour took off, shooting into the sky.

Rhodey watched it go through the hole in the trees, watching the repulsor glow grow fainter.

When it was almost invisible, the War Machine armour detonated in a bright flash with a sound like fireworks.

Rhodey put a hand up to shade his eyes. He stood and watched for a moment as sparks rained down before going out.

Then he turned, took his torch light out of the pocket of the undersuit and started walking towards the park exit.

~~~~~

A/N: The park Rhodey flies over is the Krka National Park in Croatia. It’s stunningly beautiful, you should go there. (Also please don’t detonate anything in or above a national park, it’s a horrible idea and happens solely for the imagery here. Let’s just pretend that in the MCU there’s technology to make this sort of explosion harmless for the environment.) I will add a link to their website later.

Thank you @dailyrhodey for allowing the creative liberties I took with MCU canon and for running a kick-ass event.

cocothewriter:

Like An Open Book

Summary: You wanted to try something different for your wedding anniversary.

Warning: Smut, +18 theme, oral sex(f/m) receiving), language.

This is a Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader fic. Enjoy!

🍑🍑

You were a simple person.

At least that’s what you thought as you stood in the doorway to your kitchen filled with hot pink balloons, over twelve dozen bouquet of red roses and a full spread of breakfast on the kitchen counter.

A pair of arms wrap around your waist, causing you to jump a bit in surprise.

“Happy anniversary baby.” Bucky whispered in the shell of your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stands and a shiver courses through your body.

You turn in his arms before locking yours arms around his broad shoulders. “Happy anniversary handsome.”

That charming smile graced his lips before he pressed them against yours. Last night events quickly flashing through your mind that you had to pull back before things got started again.

“I’ve got the whole day planned for you.”

Your smile must of flatten a bit because has a frown on his that you caused you to step back for a little. You loved Bucky, there was no doubt there since you married the man and you appreciated everything he has done for anniversaries, birthdays and holidays but now, before he left again on his mission, you wanted to do something simple.

Bucky eyes widen at your confession. “I love all your surprises Buck and you make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world but, I just want to spend time with you.”

Bucky eyes softened, feeling him squeezing your thick waist. “Alright baby, what do you have in mind?”

You hummed softly to yourself as you walk hand in hand with Bucky who smiles at you. You’d spend most of the day shopping for thing for your home and for each other. After having a delicious lunch, you headed to the large library in town.

“What are you thinking about getting from here doll?” Bucky asked, following behind you while you moved through the bookshelves.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know, maybe a cookbooks or two.” You said softly, brushing your fingers over a few books you walked by.

“I’m going to head upstairs for a bit, come get me when you’re ready sweetheart.” Bucky kisses your forehead before heading up.

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been borrowing but you know that soon Bucky is going to come find you about dinner and he’s not to pleasant to be around when he’s hungry.

Carrying the books you want, you head upstairs, the history section of the library was empty aside from Bucky who you found three aisles down. Standing tall in his dark, red shirt and denim jeans. His hair slicked back under his baseball cap.

You set your books down before going over, wrapping your arms around his waist and you feel him tense up for a second before relaxing.

“Looking for a good time?” You whispered.

“Sorry, but I’m taken.” Bucky replies back, keeping his gaze on the book in front of him.

A smile forms on your lips. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt right?”

Bucky chuckled a bit. “Doubtful. She knows everything and she’s crazy.”

You let out a playful gasp. “Hey! I’m not crazy.”

Bucky pulls you in front of him, wrapping his right arm around your shoulders while his vibraium hand holds the book he was currently reading.

“Small and crazy.”

You pout. “I’m only a couple of inches shorter that you ya’ know?” Bucky lets out a hum, his eyes dancing over the pages and you peek, trying to see what he was reading.

“Purl Harbor.” He says, reading your mind. “There’s still a lot I missed.”

You simply nod your head before leaning it against his chest. Moments like these make you great full for having Bucky in your life, it make it worth the sleepless night and nightmares. You loved this man, that was for certain or else you wouldn’t have married him. He was the type of man that men and women dreamed of. Tall, large biceps, his untamed dark, brown hair and vivid blue irises. The thought of last night activities raced through your mind, squeezing your thighs together as you remember him fucking you tirelessly, stroking his long, thick cock inside you.

Again and again..

“Lets start heading out. Maybe grab something for dinner.” He says, putting the book back on the shelf. “What are you hungry for?” Bucky glance towards you, giving you a lazily seductive once-over that made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re wearing the fuck-me look doll.” His Brooklyn accent slipping.

“It’s because you look so fuckable.” You blink your eyelashes at him.

A cocky grin shown on his lips that caused your chest to tighten with terrible yearning. You loved him too much. You looked up at him, admiring the way his dark hair framed his that beautiful face. Bucky cupped your cheeks before pressing his lips against yours with hunger that left you shaking, wanting more.

Your back pressed against the bookshelf when he lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep your steady.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here.” He let out in a pant, continuing his assault on your neck.

“But doesn’t it make it more exciting?” You whispered, digging your finger nails onto his shoulders. “Besides, there’s no one up here Sergeant.”

You can feel him shake from you using his rank. For some reason that always did it for him, getting him to do whatever you wanted.

“Fuck,” He groans, gripping your ass hard before marching towards an empty talk in a far corner. “You’re trouble, you know that?” He says, tossing off his baseball cap.

“Isn’t that why you married me?” You ask smugly. Bucky smiles before kneeling down in between your spread legs.

“Damn right,” without warning, Bucky dives forward, attaching his lips against your throbbing clit. A growl leaves the back of throat when he feels how wet you are and you have to fight from moaning too loudly. “You taste so fucking good baby.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head, on hand gripping his shoulder as the other pulls on his hair hard. The sound of ripping brings your focus back down to the man between your legs.

“Hey!” You begin to protest but Bucky spanks the side of your thighs gently, causing you to yelp. A distant ‘shush’ could be heard from downstairs and Bucky looks up at you. “Better keep it down sugar, okay?”

You bite your lower lip before nodding your head. Bucky continues kiss and sucking on your sensitive numb. You’re a panting, whimpering mess by the time his flesh fingers are teasing at your wet center but you shake your head and Bucky gives you a hard look.

“Use your words baby.” He says, nibbling on the inside of your thighs, causing your to shake in pleasure. He knew what you wanted, all you had to do was ask but it was so hard too when anyone could by and see what you two were doing.

“Please Bucky,” You moaned, running your fingers through his hair, trying to pull his face closer to where you needed his touch.

“Please what?” He bites your thigh harder, leaving a mark in his wake.

“I-I want your metal fingers.” You let out, grinding your hips desperately. “You want them where?”

You could let out a frustrated cry. He was teasing you and you didn’t have time for that. Not when you were hot and ready for him. “I want them inside me Bucky please, please.” You whine and he brings his flesh hand to grip your thighs in place.

The cold feeling of those fingers against your dripping lips make you throw your head back in pleasure. Your hand slaps against the table when he starts sucking on your clit against harder while his fingers pump inside you at a fast pace. Shamelessly, your body writhed as you rode his plunging fingers. He added another and you dug in your heels, arching up to meet his thrusts.

Your orgasm washed over you. You pull on his hair, earning a growl of approval from your lover. He doesn’t pull away until he feels you stop shaking. Bucky gets up, his fingers still moving in and out of you with easy while you work on his belt and jeans, getting his thick cock free. It’s hot and heavy in your palms when you struck him gently. Bucky groans, pressing his forehead against yours. Without thinking, you push Bucky back until he’s seated before you. You slid down from the table, your hands reaching eagerly for his fly. He was hard and thick, his erection straining. Lifting his shirt and pushing down his boxers, you freed him. He fell heavily into your hands, the thick length already glistening at the tip. You licked the the pre-cum away, loving the way he reined his own hunger to satisfy you.

Your eyes were on him as your open mouth slid over the plush head. You watched his lips part on a sharply indrawn breath and his eyelids grow heavy.

“Y/N.” His gaze hot on your face. “Uh…yeah, like that baby. Fuck, I love your mouth.” He groans. His praise spurred you on. You took him as deep as you could. “You love this,” he said in a low whisper, pushing his fingers into your hair to cup your head. “As much as I do.”

The tip of your tongue traced the pulsing Bien up to the head, and then you took him in your mouth again, your neck arching back as you lowered to sit on your heel, your hands on your knees, offering yourself to him.

“Don’t stop.” He widened his stance. He slid his cock to the back of your throat, then pulled back out, coating your tongue with a trail of creamy pre-cum. You swallowed, savoring the taste.

He groaned, his hands cupping your jaw. Don’t stop, doll. Suck me dry.”

Your cheeks hollowed as you found a rhythm. “So fucking good.” His teeth ground audibly. “Ah, God, you’re making me come.”

His cock swelled in your mouth. His hand fisted your hair, pulling, his body shuddering as he came hard.

Bucky cursed as you swallowed. He emptied himself in thick, hot bursts, flooding your mouth as if he hadn’t come all night. By the time he finished, you were gasping, pulling him out of your mouth as he softens. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, looking up at Bucky through your lashes. He cups your jaw, stroking his fingers over your bottom lip.

“This isn’t want I had in mind when you said we should come to the library.”

You let out a giggle, shaking your head before helping Bucky put himself back into his jeans.

Once done, Bucky helps you up before bringing you into a passionate embrace.

“Let’s finish this at home.” He says and you nod your head eagerly.

“Let’s get out of here, Sergeant.”

🍑🍑

This is for @papi-chulo-bucky

THANK YOU FOR THE 321 FOLLOWERS!!

teamironmanforever:

henrycavillry:

tamaranianprincess:

stark-tony:

I adore tony being one of peter’s emergency contacts at school but what I love even better is the school staffs reaction to may putting him as one

I mean they would just be like “i’m sorry you wanna put who as what now?!?!”

Tony’s sitting in his lab working on fixing DUM-E’s claw, because somehow, the bot managed to break off one of it’s digits while Tony wasn’t looking. He didn’t even asked FRIDAY how it happened, just told her that if DUM-E tried to do whatever it was again, to let him know.

There’s a sudden vibrating next to him, and he spares a glance to see that it’s his phone with a new text message. He sets down his current tool and checks his phone to see if it’s Peter or Pepper, because if not then it can wait.

It’s not either of them.

But this person certainly can NOT wait.

He quickly opens the text.

Aunt Hottie: Hey, can you do me a favor?

Me: Of course, is everything okay?

Aunt Hottie: Yes, everything’s fine.

Aunt Hottie: Do you remember how we agreed to have you down as Peter’s second emergency contact at the school?

Me: Yes

Aunt Hottie: Well, there’s a problem.

Me: Whose ass do I need to kick

Aunt Hottie: Tony.

Me: Sorry, what’s the problem

Aunt Hottie: The school doesn’t believe that Peter actually knows you, they even gave Peter detention because they thought he was trying to “take his internship lie too far”. I didn’t even know that nobody believed him.

Aunt Hottie: And when I went down there to try and straighten it out, they didn’t believe me either, and told me to stop encouraging Peter.

Tony felt white hot anger flash through his veins. Not only were these people punishing Peter for telling the truth, but they were straight up insulting the kid’s aunt.

Oh hell no.

Me: So what you’re saying is everything is not okay and that I do need to kick some ass

Aunt Hottie: I’m asking you to please go to the school tomorrow and correct the problem. It’s the beginning of the school year and Peter is already in trouble. I would go with you but I have to be at work at 6 am.

Me: No problem, I’ll see to it that everything gets sorted out.

Aunt Hottie: Thank you, Tony.

Me: No problemo

—-

The next day Tony walked into the office of Midtown Tech as 11:30 am sharp. He didn’t call ahead for a meeting. He wanted to catch everyone off guard. Off their game.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Walking in the office, he spots a woman behind a desk slash counter looking thing. She’s probably in her late 30′s to early 40′s and gives off a very soccer mom-ish vibe.

“Excuse me Ms-” Tony looks down to the name tag on her desk, “Rhodes? Hi.” He flashes his fake paparazzi smile at the woman, and when she looks up at him its like her brain short circuits, because she’s silent for a good 7 seconds.

Tony counted.

“Um, h-hi, sir, uh, M-Mr. Stark.” She stands, brushing out her skirt then trying (and failing) to discreetly fix her hair, “H-How may I help you?”

“I would like to speak to the principle. I don’t have an appointment. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Oh! I’m sure it won’t be a problem at all! Just a moment!” And the woman who Tony has already forgotten the name of scurries to the back of the office and disappears into a hallway.

While he waits, Tony stands there looking around at the bland looking office and shudders.

He would drop dead before having to repeat school.

Then a voice from behind him pulls him out of his thoughts, “Mr. Stark?”

Tony whips around to see Peter standing in the doorway, “Hey kiddo, shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Shouldn’t you be at the compound?”

He waves a hand dismissively, “I should be a lot of places. But you,” He points a finger at the teenager, “Should be in class.”

“Actually I was headed to lunch, but Ned saw you through the office windows while we were walking.” At the mention of his best friend, Peter jerked his head to the side, and Tony then notices the kid’s friend outside the office looking like he was going to explode with excitement.

“Right. Well. I’m just here to sort something out, don’t worry about it ki-”

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony then turns to see what must be the school’s principle, “Yes, hello. Principle Morita is it?”

Tony walks forwards and extends a hand to shake the other man’s when he notices Morita looking behind him. But before he can ask, Morita speaks up, “Was this student bothering you? I apologize. He should be at lunch right now and,” Morita pointedly looks at Peter, making him curl in on himself, “not looking for more trouble.”

Tony has to steel himself to hold back the remark he has for this man.

Instead he just says, “Actually, Peter is the reason I’m here.”

At this, Morita stumbles on his words, and finally utters a, “What?”

“Peter, come here please.” Tony reaches out an arm and Peter did as he was told, and when he got into Tony’s reach, Tony pulled him close with his arm around Peter’s shoulders, “Peter’s aunt notified me yesterday that there is a slight problem with you believing that a) he is my intern and b) I am his second emergency contact. She also told me that such problems led to disciplinary action, which I have to say, I’m not exactly happy about. Considering the shortcomings here are on your side.”

Morita sputtered a moment before, “Oh o-of course Mr. Stark. I apologize for the inconvenience, and for you having to make a trip down here just for this.”

“I don’t mind having to make trips for my kid.” Tony narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him.

He looks between Tony and Peter, “Of course. Well I will see to it that the detentions are resolved and will not go on his personal record, and I will make sure you are entered as his contact.”

Tony nodded, “Great, I’m glad that’s settled.” He turned to Peter, “Alright, drama’s over. Go back to lunch with Ted.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “It’s Ned, dad.”

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair and gave him a gentle push towards the door, “Whatever, I’ll see you this weekend. Nat found a new recipe she wants to try with you.”

“Okay, see ya!”

“Bye, squirt.”

The two parted ways and left through their own doors, leaving a confused and dumbfounded Principle Morita standing in the middle of the office.

What the shit just happened?

——

Aunt Hottie: Thank you

Me: It’s no problem, really. Happy to do it

Aunt Hottie: Could have made a little less of a scene

Me: You know that’s not my style

Aunt Hottie: Right, but how are you gonna get out of this one

Aunt Hottie: attachment:

New York Post

HEADLINE- Tony Stark has a son?

I DON’T MIND HAVING TO MAKE TRIPS FOR MY KID!!!! AAAAAHHH

dad
d a d

I am dead

Bucky and Tony please, with 40?

reioka:

40. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

The Asset grunted as he hiked Stark higher on his back. He did not grumble, but he did silently fume about having to bring Stark with him. He would have just left the man at the burning Hydra base, but Stark was friends with Captain America, and the Asset was hard-pressed to upset Captain America when he might need to use him for help.

It didn’t help that Stark did not have the Asset’s stamina, and had dropped to his knees after only eight miles of hiking. He’d begged the Asset to leave him, and the Asset had seriously considered it, but they were still miles from civilization, and if Stark died from the elements, the Captain would probably be pissed about that too. So he’d had to scoop Stark up and carry him. At least this way, if they were attacked, he could just drop Stark and stand over him to defend him.

Stark had been blessedly silent for the first couple of hours. The Asset assumed it was because of the exhaustion; Stark had been escaping Hydra when the Asset had showed up, so who knew how long he’d been going by that time. (The Asset had been disappointed that he hadn’t been able to blow up the base himself, but had been pleased with Stark’s thoroughness.) The Asset knew it was only a matter of time, though–Stark could use talking as a weapon, so once he was able to, he would probably start chattering at him.

The sun went down, and the Asset considered whether or not to rest. If he kept moving, he could get rid of Stark sooner, but if he wanted to be in top condition, he would need to take a breather, especially if he was going to continue carrying him. Stark made a soft noise that sounded like a whimper, and the Asset felt the soft part of his psyche push. Rest, it said. The Asset couldn’t find a good argument, so he set Stark down on a log and set about making a fire. Then, once the fire was going, he picked Stark up, log and all, and moved him closer.

“Wha-! Holy shit,” Stark wheezed, clinging to the log. “Okay, Muscles, no need to show off. I was suitably impressed when you carried me for several hours.”

The Asset rolled his eyes and sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around him to draw him closer. No point in letting Stark get pneumonia or something after carrying him so long. (He thought, perhaps, that he remembered a smaller chest wheezing for air. He chased the memory, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“You know, I used to do this as a kid,” Stark said after a moment.

The Asset glanced at him, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Sit in front of the fire with my Bucky Bear, I mean,” Stark said, smirking.

The Asset stared at him, then rolled his eyes with a reluctant snort.

Stark stared at him, looking cautiously happy. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

The Asset tilted his head. “It’s not impossible that you’ve entered an alternate universe.”

“How dare you say such a thing to my face,” Stark said. “Also give me your shirt.”

“What,” the Asset said, and had to force himself not to smack Stark’s hands away when he reached out to try and take his shirt by force. He grabbed Stark’s hands and shoved them away. “What?”

“My blisters have blisters,” Stark complained. “Loafers weren’t meant for long hikes. You run hot, so you won’t miss your shirt if I rip it up for bandages.”

“Give me your feet,” the Asset said immediately. Stark stared at him, looking horrified, and then tried to squirm away. The Asset dragged him back. “What the hell are you–”

“Are you gonna cut off my feet?!” Stark blurted out.

The Asset could count on one hand the times he had been bewildered. It was once. This was the one time. “Why would I cut off your feet.”

“You can’t just–tell me to give you my feet with a face like that!” Stark exclaimed defensively. “Like you want to cut them off!”

The Asset considered this. He let his lips stretch into what felt like a smile. “Give me your feet.”

“…This is somehow worse,” Stark said.

The Asset grabbed for Stark’s ankle, impatient, only to nearly take a screwdriver to the eye–the only reason he didn’t was because he jerked backward when Stark screamed in terror. “Where did you get a screwdriver?!”

“I always have a screwdriver,” Stark said.

The Asset stared. Was that an innuendo? Somehow it was more intimidating if it was. He sighed. “Just let me see your feet.”

“I would rather die after the smile you just gave me,” Stark informed him imperiously.

The Asset did not scowl. He wanted to though. “That can be arranged.” He did make a frustrated sound when Stark only tightened his grip on the screwdriver.

Well, he thought with an internal sigh. Clearly the danger was past. If Hydra was coming after them, they would have found them already–especially after the way Stark screamed.

“…Why did the Asset shove me to the fore and say ‘your problem now?’“ Bucky asked. He jerked backward when he saw Tony was threatening him with a screwdriver. “What the hell?!”

“Bucky?” Tony asked, and relaxed minutely. “You don’t wanna cut off my feet, right?”

“What the fuck,” Bucky asked, and felt the tiniest bit of amusement from the Asset in the back of his mind.

But Tony threw his arms around his neck to kiss him in relief, so. He supposed he didn’t really need to understand.

pathfuckery:

jumpingjacktrash:

copperbadge:

akielosrises:

crazymuff1n:

writing-prompt-s:

At long last, The Chosen One has been discovered. Working as a cashier. With no interest in doing anything even slightly more difficult.

yeah because there is nothing more difficult than retail

tbh anyone who works/has worked retail would see the chance to go around saving the world in ways that could potentially kill them as a welcome vacation

“Does the position of Chosen One offer health benefits of any kind?”

“Well, our ragtag gang of world-saving underdogs has a doctor on-team.”

“Do I have to pay her out of pocket, is what I’m asking.”

“Gosh no! She’s an idealist, you don’t pay her at all!”

“Oh! That’s nice. But then I guess there’s no paycheck.”

“I mean, the secret cabal that dispenses our orders does make sure we have enough money to feed ourselves and keep a roof over our secret lair and such.”

“Hourly?”

“Hourly what?”

“Like have you guys ever had to punch a time clock?”

“We once had to dismantle a sinister time-freezing device in the shape of a clock….otherwise no.”

“Sold. Off we go.”

“do i have to be nice to people who are yelling at me?”

“we’re the good guys, you can’t kill random civilians just because they’re mean!”

“kill?? no, i mean, can i tell them off.”

“well, sure, of course.”

*rips name tag off shirt and tosses it over shoulder* “i’m your huckleberry.”

This resonates on a spiritual level

#ourgeneration horror stories

daxwashere:

juuls:

youcantseebutimmakingaface:

campercas:

kayteaem-fic:

They find a book written in Latin… one guy doesn’t take Latin and doesn’t want to mess up the pronunciation. The girl is studying Mandarin. Another guy recommends sticking it into Google Translate but that’s likely to land them with gibberish. They leave it alone.

The car won’t start. They call an Uber.

The vampire captures the girl and insists that she wears the gown to dinner. The gown is actually hella cute. Only problem is it’s not in her size. Oh, it only comes in 2’s and 4’s? Sorry, vamp, you want me in that dress you contact the goddamn company and tell them to get their shit together.

“How did you possibly know that? It saved our lives!” “I’ve got two degrees and I spend way too much time on Wikipedia.”

They encounter a spirit that gains power the more people believe in it. One girl makes a vine and uploads with, “fakest ghost ever!!! Right??” Twenty minutes later the spirit is destroyed.

The circus is in town tonight. Except she’s lived her whole life here and the circus has never come before… it’s also in a pretty sketchy part of town, not somewhere you’d want to walk alone at night. She goes to a movie instead.

“You’d need an ARMY to fight this evil!” “Okay. I’ve got 20,000 followers, lets see how many can make it.”

The Evil Whispery Voice of Doom tells the jock that it’s going to kill his pretty blonde girlfriend. The jock gets offended because, excuse me, Cindy and I are just friends. However, Marty over there is my boyfriend and I’m not saying you should kill him, just stop making assumptions yeah?

“This spirit tried to convince me it was Jerry when it texted but its texting style is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT so yeah that didn’t work.”

We could have easily gotten lost and ended up at some creepy cabin in the woods, but luckily we all had functioning GPSs. Beach party, we’ve arrived!

“We have to find a way to destroy it! We—what are you doing?” “Looking up ‘exorcising demons’ on Google. Oh look, first hit.”

The child she bares will be the devil’s spawn. Good thing she doesn’t want kids. Or if she changes her mind she can always adopt.

“How can we possibly outwit this serial killer…” “… There’s gotta be an app for that. Lemme look.”

Only the virgin will survive… Turns out they’re all virgins. One is asexual. One wants to wait until marriage. Two just haven’t found the right person yet. One is meh about sex. So we all survive, yeah?

The girl does not fall. She was on varsity track.

“Quick! We need someplace to hide the artifact. And then decoys to confuse the beast! What have we got?” “… I’ve got a hundred plastic bags stuffed into another plastic bag.” “PERFECT.”

i would pay to read a book of a collection of modern horror stories

They’re trapped in a haunted cabin one of them inherited from a Weird UncleTM. Mysterious figures, things going flying, screams and drumbeats and chanting, blood pouring down the walls, the whole bit. They pull out the Ouija Board.

“BRO, WHAT IS YOUR DEAL?”

S…A…C…R…E…D…L…A…N…D

“Oh.”

“Oh geez. Oh no. This is Native American land. Oh goodness I am SO sorry.”

“Um so, like I inherited this property and a couple acres, can I like…donate it?”

W…H…A…T

“Yeah man like, what tribe are you? I don’t want to live here, this cabin is grody and Uncle Tim was a fuckin’ weirdo. It’s your guys’ land, just like, what tribe?”

C..H…U…M…A…S…H

“Cool. Uh, I guess we’ll…call them…in the morning?”

T…H…A…N…K…Y…O…U
GOODBYE

“Oh. Well fuck, like, that was easy.”

I was all set to dislike this when I saw the title, thinking it was gonna be another bashing of my generation post… then boom! Talk about saving the day!

I need all of this…