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judging you

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#👌👌👌👌👌👀

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We’re now in a flying donut, billions of miles from Earth with no back-up.

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Captain America: Civil War (2016)

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You walked right into this one. I’ve dated hotter chicks than you.

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tony really doesn’t have a concept of time anymore, so when he finds himself in the mansion’s kitchen flipping pancakes at dawn, he’s not terribly surprised. he hasn’t been able to sleep --- not since new york, not since the sentinels, not since they all were transported back to 2018 and then back again ( some more worse for wear than others ). he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to sleep again. back in 1974, there’s not many ways for tony to fill his time. he’d spent the evening tinkering with his tech, trying to find new ways to bend ‘74 technology to fit his purposes, but when his eyes blurred too much to focus any longer, he wandered into the kitchen and started making pancakes. it was a familiar ritual, something his mom used to do with him on saturday mornings. it’s calming --- so calming that tony doesn’t hear the other person enter until they’re right next to him. he inhales and turns to them as he flips another pancake. “oh. hey. just thought i’d make a little breakfast. my mickey mouse pancake is irreparably fucked, with one lopsided ear, but... hey. what can you do.” he nods to the bowl of batter, all the way on the opposite counter. “mind grabbing that for me...?��

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“small talk is bullshit if you ask me, just something to keep our minds occupied and distracted from the important things,” tony replies, completely ignoring the fact that he loves to banter --- though in his mind, banter and small talk are not the same. he’s not familiar with the blue stranger in front of him, but he thinks maybe she’s acquainted with the guardians? he’s not sure. either way, he’s kind of appointed himself the unofficial welcoming committee of the mansion, and that includes welcoming people, no matter how unfriendly they seemed. “big fucking gun? i’ll have to ask around. and about the spaceship... probably not, but i have been working on ways to get out of here, time travel and otherwise. i’ll add spaceship to the list.”

“if you’re going to make small talk, i’d suggest against it,” nebula huffs, not glancing up at the stranger that had the audacity to sit at the same table as her. internally, she’s panicking, stressed out and terrified over where she is and what is going on, but it doesn’t show on her face. “in fact, unless you’re about to offer me a space ship and a big fucking gun, i wouldn’t recommend talking at all.”

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Tony Stark is an Icon.

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                                         What is that, like Mark 15?                                                              Uh…yeah. Something like that.

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You’re right… I don’t deserve her. Here’s where you’re wrong: she was already perfect •

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If there’s one thing I’ve proven it’s that you can count on me to pleasure myself.

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A Look™