Tag Archives: avengers trashy band au






Flashback. Actor Chris Evans for Flaunt Magazine.

Rule 1. Always reblog Chris’ softcore porn phase.

The thing about this photoset is that Evans is a passive subject for the camera.

Most photos of a beefy blonde male have him staring aggressively. You know the type I mean – stance wide and shoulders spread, eyes lit with challenge, as if he’s about to punch or fuck the camera man. This set is the exact opposite. Evans glances away from the camera like a Victoria’s Secret model, or else peeks from behind a shirt like he’s asking for approval. The photos where he’s on his knees have his spine curved to show off his slender waist, elbows in to show submission. Heck, in one picture the curve of his torso mirrors the curve of the lady on the poster in the background.  

Some photographer, when deciding to work with Evans, decided to shoot him in a way that women are often portrayed, instead of the traditional machismo alpha male bullshit. Thank you, photographer. Tumblr is grateful.

Oh wow someone added smart meta to this photoshoot. That means I can constantly reblog it without shame.

I was trying to work out why these photos were so incredibly hot…thank you poster for the explanation on the posing, now I understand why I find them so appealing…dude’s posed like a lady

I wish there was a way for me to write while driving around in my car with the windows down and my stereo at full blast.

So if you’ve been around here for a while, you might vaguely remember that I’m working on an Avengers Trashy Band AU.  I’ve been picking at this thing like I pick at scabs – which is to say it’s frequently painful, sometimes bloody and in the end not a whole lot is accomplished.  But on the upside, I have managed to put a playlist together of some songs that make me want to continue doing the thing, and that’s the playlist I was listening to while doing some quick errands tonight.  

Please set your music player of choice to ‘Come With Me Now’ by KONGOS and indulge in some snippets and mental images with me.

“What, you think an Irish kid from Brooklyn doesn’t know his way around a squeezebox?  Stevie, I’m hurt!”

Dust and road dirt ground into the cracks of Bucky’s black motorcycle boots, stomping in time with the beat of Clint’s drum.  

Tasha’s head bent over her guitar, a curtain or red hair around her face as she teases out a lonely bridge guitar riff that sounds like the open road.  

Steve with the distortion on his bass all the way up, growling into the mic along with Bucky, “Afraid to lose control, caught up in this world. I’ve wasted time I’ve wasted breath I think I thought myself to death.  I was born without this fear, now only this seems clear, I need to move I need to fight I need to lose myself tonight.”

All tied together with the kick drum like a heartbeat and the lights flashing red, purple, blue and a hundred or so sweaty bargoers from nowhere, midwest, stomping and clapping along in time.

Ok, ok, so it has nothing to do with the actual plot of the story, I just love the image I get.