"Are you out of your damn mind?"
"You know, it may not look like much now but trust me, it’ll be spectacular.”
desperately wanting to rp when you dont know all the lore yet
- desperately wanting to RP but you haven’t figured all of your character out yet
- desperately wanting to RP but you have no one to do it with.
- desperately wanting to RP but your character breaks original lore.
srsly follow irongentleman she’s the only one whose ever made me cry with rp
One would assume that the civil war amongst heroes would be enough for Stark to increase his security. Or maybe he was just that much better at breaking in. Or possibly, just that determined. Whatever the reason that allowed him into the building it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that he was in Stark’s lab, waiting for him to return. Anger coursed through his veins, his chest tight with emotion as his gaze never left the doors. He’d shorted out the cameras the moment he’d gotten in, a lovely feature his arm allowed for them to be blank for several moments. Just what he needed to trick them into a loop.
The shield was a weight on his arm, a reminder of what they’d lost.
And this lab was a reminder of who’d taken it from them.
Anthony Edward Stark prided himself on a great many things; and while many a man prided himself on his achievements, Tony learned at a young age it wasn’t to be so. He was to pride himself in the attention his creations garnered him and little else, if he were to be the only to love what he created then it wasn’t an achievement. His hands had created a thousand impossibilities, impossibilities that for the better part of his adult life had brought about the suffering of a million people. Maybe more. His deeds since being shown what his arrogance wrought were only a stepping stone towards redemption.
A stone he’d picked up and skipped across a body of water, stranding himself amongst only his twisted thoughts; his deeds could no longer be balanced out.
Not with this.
No matter how he looked at it, turning his head left and right, lights on and lights off—-vision free of tears or the other way around. He saw the red, too often; Steve had never looked so peaceful. In life, there was too much for him; every second of every day seemed to be filled with some worry or another—-relaxation didn’t come easy to the soldier, not in the way Tony could project it. He turned away callers, never mind their status; friend or foe (the line blurred so easily these days, even his mind couldn’t keep up. It was easier to consider them all the latter).
Maybe in this state of mind he should have unmuted Jarvis, loyal Jarvis; Jarvis who didn’t ask too many questions and never pushed him. Never saw the red on my hands, never showed anything but a muted annoyance with him and—- he closes his eyes, dragging the cool bottle of alcohol against his brow. Condensation beading down the side, to drip down his features; he’d made the mistake of glimpsing himself in a mirror earlier (and promptly smashed it) circles under his eyes dark enough to be bruises; mingling with the actual bruises on his person. No matter how much the drink burned; it couldn’t wash away the taste of bile, blood, and bitter self-loathing.
Climbing to his feet he figured if he was going to be in self-imposed solitude placed under house arrest; by no governing body outside of his own, he was going to do something. He’d wallowed in this state before:
A heavy hand of impossible heat upon his shoulder, he tried not to show it; when he showed things like this it only garnered looks of disappointment and annoyance, when he wished so much for the briefest flicker of pride or joy. “It’s okay Anthony. It’s okay.” the voice is a soft murmur, heedless to the hurricane in the boy’s body, he hugs the paper to his chest, curls in around it as though it were persons in question and just this once he could have his love and attention—-downed plane, the bodies of—-
He slaps himself upside the head “Okay.” he mumbles, slurs more like aloud as he stumbles into the corner of the hallway; leaning his frame against the wall while bandaged hands work at the bottle some more “Okay.”
It was something, that word; something….something. And he’s on the floor. Not where he wants to be. I built Dum-E on the floor. After I got that newspaper; built him right where my old man planted his expensive shoes and wasted his life away looking for—-
He screws his eyes shut.
Howard Stark—thinking of him as Father or Dad burned worse than the drink in his hand; toiled his life away working towards his empire of death and searching for the hero of his time.
And Tony went and kil—
It wasn’t me.
He tosses the bottle aside, it lands with a wet and heavy thud, the crack of glass. He’d spent too long like this, trying to stack his emotions in some stable order so he can work and—-
Was it worth it?
He stands to his feet again, working his way down the hall; to the elevator. He can’t trust himself, his legs, his feet with the stairs and down he goes. To hell?
His laugh is bitter, a barking sound that hurts more than it cleanses. “Just about…” he mutters, cross his arms, hugging them across his chest before deft digits work at his lower lip and pulling at the dark strands on his chin.
Threaded with silver and grey. So old. The elevator opens, he moves like the machine he spent his life pretending he was. Yet there’s no program to insert to erase this…this pain.
Punching in the code with the pad of his thumb, harsh jabbing motions that sparks yet another ache to call his own as he walks through the doorway. A pause. Brows furrowing together as he takes in the figure before him, there’s panic, fear; the steady beat of acceptance.
Another ghost. Hello hello H ell o. 'I wish I could have spared him the loss—-there was always a light in his eyes Anthony; always a light. But when…his name was James—-Steve called him Bucky, sometimes I call him Bucky and he didn't seem to—-”
“Winter Soldier.” he greets, his tone is clipped; far more stable than his last spoken words—-mechanical.
I am a machine.
His gaze drops to the impossibility on the other’s arm, and he barely contains the flinch; the rage. How dare—-
How dare he?
How dare you.
“What are you doing here?” he lingers in the doorway, preventing it closing; without his suit he is a sad, squishy, mess that James could very well break into a thousand pieces and kick about with glee if he wishes.
Only friends get to call him James. Get to call him Bucky.
I am neither.
I am a machine.
C Y B E R S I X OKAY THAT ONE I WAS NEVER GOING TO GET AND KAIDEN LBR HES MASS EFFECT AND FUCK I SHOULDVE KNOWN JOHNNY AND I WAS GONNA GUESS REBECCA BUT THEN I WAS LIKE WAIT
Cybersix was in a tie with Sakura but then she won out because she hurts me more than Sakura does. yEAH there were a few that were hard to choose between like Anders or Isabela would have been on the list or even Rorschach. I remember when this list was like 90% resident evil. Solf Kimblee will always hold a special place in my animu heart. if this list was anime characters he would probably be at the top and like 90% of the list would be FMA. See, I rather do lists based on the area like video games or comics or books or movies/tv.
HERE YOU MAY HAVE THE COMPLETE LIST
1. Frank Castle ; Hayley
2. Johnny Gat
3. Harry Dresden ; Hayley
4. Zevran Arainai ; Hayley
5. Rebecca Chambers
6. Kaidan Alenko
7. Varric Tethras ; Hayley
9. Stacker Pentecost ; Kayla
10. Albert Wesker ; Hayley
It’s hard for me to narrow things down tbh
Actually Tony is probably in my top 20 if I’m being real honest. Frank Castle is probably my favorite Marvel comics character of all time. Ohhh I do love Sirius Black but Lupin wins over him ;). bUT you got one!!! ( I had a roleplay blog for Stacker once upon a time).
HE IS. I LOVE HIM. I MEAN HAVE YOU SEEN HIM. I think I have more of a monster crush on his pixels than I do Wesker lmao bye.
buT he’s not in my top 10.
you’re the only person who knows any of the characters SO i’m going to just post a complete list with this ask. or wait i have one more message. i’LL do it with that one.