↖ The owner of this blog acknowledges that Tony Stark is The Best Marvel Character™.

Listen I did not sign up for Irondad for Harley Keener, his first son, to be excluded.

the best marvel characters ranked

15. you 14. can’t 13. rank 12. them 11. because 10. they 9. are 8. all 7. good 6. and 5. generally 4. try 3. their 2. best 1. tony stark

Do you ever think how calmly Tony talks to Pepper when she’s taking the wire out of his chest and how he keeps his voice soft and patient even when he’s going into cardiac arrest because uh… I sure do 

pepper: oh my god whats happening

tony: its nothing sweetie I’m just dying you’re doing amazing

btw it’s 2018 i think we can write thor talking normally in fics now

i don’t think ill ever get over how perfectly casted blaise was in the hp movies like you take one look at louis cordice and you are just like yeah thats blaise fucking zabini mhmm thats 6′1 of slytherin prestige right there and even though he hasn’t seen me yet i know he’s judging me and every life decision that i and my ancestors 500 years ago have made up to this point

Chemical Collision

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Ginny Weasley

AU: Modern, non-magical, competitive chefs AU

Word Count: 978

Written For: muclbloods (my muse? my muse)

Blaise can practically pinpoint the moment it all goes to hell.

His carefully crafted culinary career—his strong, silent, deliberately intimidating exterior—his record-breaking collection of awards and honors and accomplishments—

He burns the fucking Chateaubriand.

He burns the fucking Chateaubriand, and then watches with raw, unfeigned horror as a self-satisfied smirk flashes across Ginny Weasley’s deceptively adorable face.

“Oops,” she calls out cheerfully, the rolled-up sleeves of her too-big chef’s whites drooping down her forearms. “Maybe you should’ve set a timer.”

Blaise clenches his jaw—a timer, God, this isn’t fucking amateur hour, he knows how to cook his fucking proteins—and takes a deep, calming breath.

Which he immediately regrets, because he can’t quite tell if the ensuing wave of debilitating nausea is due to the pungent odor of charred, blackened meat, or Ginny Weasley’s perfectly browned scallops.

He glares at the glistening pool of clarified butter coating the bottom of her pan.

He’s going to lose.

He never loses.

Especially not to distractingly pretty, third-rate self-taught sous-chefs from the non-gentrified part of Brooklyn.

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Voodoo Doll

[ one ]

  A mark appears on the very center of Blaise’s chest during a routine mid-morning Charms lesson.

He registers the pain, and then the tingling, and then the power—and his first thought upon realizing what’s happening is of the horrid, cratered pink scar on the outside of his mother’s ankle; the only imperfection she doesn’t cover up with jewelry, or money, or lies. She’s on her seventh husband now. Blaise suspects he’ll be attending another funeral by the winter holidays.

But now, under the weight of his school uniform—his skin is pinching, pulsing, pulling. It’s unnerving.

He asks Flitwick to excuse him, and doesn’t bother with an explanation; just a lazy arch of his brow and a half-smile that’s more serpentine than it is sincere—his hands, though, when he finally makes it an empty bathroom stall and unbuttons his shirt and glances down at his new mark—his hands shake, and his jaw tightens, and an ominous thrill of foreboding resonates in the sponge-soft marrow of his bones.

A flashy, scarlet, Roman numeral seven.

He doesn’t know what it means.

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freeze frame

People have tells.

They flick their eyes down and to the side when they’re lying, and they scratch at their necks, their jaws, their chins, when they’re nervous, and they square their shoulders and they crack their knuckles and they take huge, menacing steps forward when they’re trying to intimidate her—

Ginny doesn’t usually have the patience to properly notice any of that.

Sifting through a dozen minute shifts in body language, parsing out what they might mean and how they might affect her; it feels an awful lot like biding her time. Like hesitating. And sitting still, holding her breath, peering through the jagged crack in the dungeon trap door and counting down from midnight, measuring the weight of passing footsteps on an ambiguously sliding scale of Carrow to Not Carrow—it makes her skin itch. Her stomach lurch.  

Blaise Zabini’s arm, warm and solid and endlessly, miserably distracting against hers, just makes it all so much worse.

“Stop that,” Zabini hisses. He smells expensive, like leather and peppermint and the forest after it rains. His hand is hovering above the curve of her waist like it’s an accident, but she knows better. Nothing he does is ever an accident. “Weasley. Stop—fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” she retorts, absently twisting her fingers into the hem of her skirt. “I’m—what are we even waiting for?”

“I already told you,” he says, tone clipped. “There’s a second year. Slytherin. His parents—defected. Or something.”

“Like you did?” Ginny asks, somewhat acerbically—somewhat unfairly, too, maybe, but she’s hardly the only one who’s still skeptical of Zabini. Of what he’s doing for them. “Because I’d like to know what that ‘or something’ actually is, if you don’t consider it defecting.”

He shrugs. “There are three sides to every story, right?”

“Not in a war.”

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Anthony Mackie responding to a rude stupid bitch fan at ACE Comic Con | June 23, 2018

Harley will look up at you, big puppy eyes full of innocence, without a single trace of a lie on his face and tell you “I have no idea how that happened” while a fire burns behind him and there is a blowtorch on his hands, and you will ALMOST believe him.

Tony is so proud of his kid.

Tony is so proud of his manipulative sons.

Lil Harley, who can and will talk you around any topic until you end agreeing to whatever he wants, And Peter who will just flash a pout with a trembling lip and you will trip over yourself to do anything he wants.

But can you imagine it tho-

Imagine Tony doing ridiculous bets with Harley about Harley getting people to do stuff for him like: once Harley convinced Happy to drive to every Burguer King in Manhattan just to compare their fries and see if they really taste the same. Or that time when Harley got Rhodey to be his moving target for his new potato gun. Tony loses every fucking time because holy shit that kid can even talk around Pepper! Pepper of-course-I’m-not-going-to-pretend-to-be-your-mother-Harley-thats-insane-and-illegal-and-wait-is-this-for-an-extra-class?-Aw-sure-honey-let-me-sign-it-for-you-Pepper who is immune to every BS Tony ever said to her!

And Peter pout face, don’t let him do his kicked puppy eyes to you or you are doomed to spend an entire evening doing the most random things from fixing Ned’s Death Star Lego because “it was already done Mr Stark and it was my fault that Ned had to start everything all over again!” to watch all his supposed to be secret videos that he totally should NOT BE RECORDING WHAT THE HELL PETER- Wait is that you kicking Cap’s ass? Good job Kid

Just- Gimme Dad!Tony being a dork and happy with his adopted science kids okay *sobs*