#twentylifetimes

[gaylorsoftwitter]

[aurumacadicus]

twentylifetimes replied to your post: ALRIGHT SO I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR “Tracks” MY...

:o what was “tracks”?

“Tracks - Running with Story” is basically interval training with exposition. You’re running from something called “Growlers” (werewolves, maybe? or some shapeless hulking creature that snarls and growls) in sort of like a military or scientific setting.

I was very startled when I first started it and a voice whispered “don’t move, wait” and this growl came that scared me because I still had my headphones turned up super loud. Then I got the all clear and the voice whispered, “Okay, go ahead, just don’t make a sound--” and then I heard something like broken glass. There was a pause, and the voice said “RUN. THERE’S ANOTHER TEAM AT YOUR THREE O’CLOCK. RUN!” and the growling came back even louder and my stupid rabbit brain was like “THE DANGER IS FUCKING REAL BOOK IT.”

So I booked it. I think the two gentlemen that stopped me were concerned I was actually running from another person and wanted to help me but I had to awkwardly explain “No it’s my app. It’s part of a game.” They were relieved but perplexed. (They were older gentlemen lol.)

[bardingbeedle]

top 5 comic artists!!

i don’t know much about comic book artists tbh but if it’s just like, based on their art & style: 

david marquez

chris samnee

alex maleev

valerio schiti

nik virella

ask me my ‘top 5′ anything!

[avengersandco]

@twentylifetimes replied to your post“I have a midterm in chem on friday, and let me tell you, I am going to...”

YOU CAN DO THIS BRIDGET I BELIEVE IN YOU

I’m glad one of us believes in me, bc I sure as hell don’t

[izazov]

if you're still taking them, #96 for stevetony please? thank you !!

96. “Here, let me.” 

The pain sizzles along his nerve endings, but Tony grits his teeth against it and keeps on walking.

Tony is acutely aware how the tug of the invisible leash grows stronger with each beat of his artificial heart, merciless and insistent, and all he wants is to turn around and head back. Follow the damned leash back to the man who holds it.

But he cannot. He will not. Even if this ends how the damned bastard had warned him it will.

Tony knows it is no more than a trick of mind - exhausted from pain and fighting against the inevitable - but he could swear he can hear that familiar, infuriating voice inside his head; calling his name, asking him to return.

“Tony, come back. Do not make me do this. Do not make me hurt you. Do not make me-- Please,Tony.” 

Tony ignores the tug. He ignores the pleading lilt to the imaginary voice inside his head, which proves to be a lot harder than it should be, keeping himself focused on the only important thing: putting one foot after the other. And doing it again. And again.

Each step is more difficult to make, as his body - weak and trembling, and entirely too human now - strains with the effort of resisting the magic that binds Tony to that wretched paladin.

A surge of bright-hot pain sears through is chest, almost sending Tony down onto his knees. He manages to stay upright, his fingers rising to cover the pulsating blue stone, residing in the place where Tony’s heart used to be a long time ago.

Its glow is flickering like a candle in the wind, growing fainter.  

Dragging in a harsh breath, Tony straightens and lets out weak, mirthless chuckle. Death may not be the freedom he seeks, but he will take it over the life of servitude and having his will - his very self - enslaved by a naive fool, whose self-righteousness is only eclipsed by his stubborness.

Tony succeeds in making another nine steps before his knees give out and he crashes down onto the ground.

He doesn’t know how far he manages to crawl before pain becomes too much, and darkness overtakes him.

***

Demons do not dream.

If they did, their dreams would not include the image of concerned blue eyes, nor the sensation of gentle fingers brushing across their cheeks.

Or a soft voice whispering, “Here, let me,” before pressing a wet cloth against their burning foreheads.  

But Tony is not a demon. Not really. Not fully.

***

Waking is a surprise.

Waking to find himself laid out onto a thick, blue cape, with Steven Rogers staring at him unblinkigly from across a flickering campfire is not.

Tony stares back for a second, then lets his head fall down onto the ground. “You caught me again,” he says. He is far too tired to care how resigned he sounds. “Well done, Captain.”

For a few moments, there is no answer. Then: “Don’t call me that.”

Tony blinks, frowns. This isn’t the first time his captor had issued that demand. But it is the first time he’d done it in a low, tired voice, making it more a plea than a command.

Carefully, mindful of his still aching body, Tony pushes himself into a sitting position. He takes a quick look of their surroundings - a forest clearing, by the looks of things - then returns his gaze back to the man sitting on the bare ground, his beloved shield gleaming in the flickering light of the campfire.

Tony’s mouth curls over his teeth. “Then how should I address you? Master?”

Tony sees well in the darkness. Sees the way Steven’s eyes fall shut for a second; an almost pained expression twisting his features before smoothing into familiar - and increasingly frustrating - solemn expression.

“My name is Steve,” he says softly. “You know that.”

Tony snorts. “Is that supposed to make me feel any less a slave, Steve?” Tony sneers. Steve visibly flinches at that. It feels like a hollow victory. “The privilege to call the famed Captain America by his given name?”

“My given name has never meant much,” Steve says. His voice is barely above a whisper. “And my title has even less worth in the world where HYDRA reigns supreme.”

Something twists in the middle of Tony’s chest. It feels like an echo of a long forgotten emotion. “But you are still willing to lay down your life in a hopeless fight.”

Steve shrugs. His gaze is locked on Tony’s. “Someone has to. It may as well be me. After all, it is my duty.” Steve’s mouth curves slightly. But the shape of his smile doesn’t convey happiness. “Or it used to be, in a different time.”

“You are a fool,” Tony bites out, glaring at Steve. “A self-righteous fool who is heading straight for his death. Normally, it would’t concern me in the least. But you are dragging me along.”

Steve’s jaw goes tight, his eyes flashing. “Suddenly you value your life?” Steve says, voice low and dangerous. “After you almost committed suicide yesterday?”

“It was an escape attempt, Rogers,” Tony says, climbing to his feet unsteadily. His fingers itch to harden into smooth metal, to draw upon the blue fire that is locked underneath Tony’s skin. But he cannot. Not unless Steve commands it. “I, unlike you, am not interested in martyring myself for a hopeless cause. I only want my freedom.”

Steve rises to his feet in one graceful move. He is angry, his shoulders set in a tense line and his hands clenched into fists. “You knew the risks. I told you everything the first day. You knew running away would claim your life.”

Tony grins; wide and toothy, tilting his head in the direction of the plain silver band on Steve’s right wrist. “All you had to do was to take it off. It would break the enchantment. But I suppose not even the SHIELD’s mightiest and most noble paladin is above dirtying his hands.” Tony pauses, something ugly and bitter writhing inside his chest. “Not that enslaving a half-demon counts as dirtying your hands.”

Steve’s face goes pale, and the look in his eyes is nothing but raw, naked misery. But it disappears in the next moment, replaced by steely determination.

“Hate me if that will make this easier on you, Tony, but know this: I will not set you free. Not until HYDRA is gone or I draw my last breath.” Steve pauses, his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. “Whichever comes first.”

With that, Steve turns on his heel and strides into the darkness, leaving Tony to stare helplessly after his retreating back, feeling something stir in the hollow of his chest, underneath the anger and helpless frustration: an ache Tony no longer remembers how to name.

[wingheadshellhead]

hi!!! i just wanted to say i adore your blog and your content and i'm really happy that you're in the fandom because you make such gorgeous gorgeous things and you seem so nice and helpful and i love seeing you on the dash !!

yells softly..... what a wonderful kind thing to say, thank you so so much, i really appreciated this!! it always makes me so happy knowing that people enjoy my content. 

[savedbythenotepad]

🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡Congratulations, you've been Ceasar'd! Send this to your best frenemy and 22 conspirators to spread the Ceasar love!

i answered this a day late and the betrayal still hurts, it runs deep.

[stonystonysto]

re spoons: tony is an actual human octopus and if he's the one often straggling late to bed then he will absolutely plaster himself to steve's back and probably not even steve will have the Will to move him bc he's too damn comfy. also tony probably naturally runs hot so when he starts out as little spoon it inadvertently becomes switched overnight (aka he starts sleepily batting and kicking steve's limbs off. then a few minutes later it's like he changes his mind then latches onto steve again)

But I asked for a rumble, not a mind reading!