antlarceny-blog

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Hello friends! Obviously I haven’t been on this blog in a while, but Scott Lang as a muse is not dead! If you’d like to continue writing with me and him, you may find us HERE, on my multi-muse blog. Hope to see you there! 

[antlarceny-blog]

Hello friends! Obviously I haven’t been on this blog in a while, but Scott Lang as a muse is not dead! If you’d like to continue writing with me and him, you may find us HERE, on my multi-muse blog. Hope to see you there! 

[antlarceny-blog]

Hello friends! Obviously I haven’t been on this blog in a while, but Scott Lang as a muse is not dead! If you’d like to continue writing with me and him, you may find us HERE, on my multi-muse blog. Hope to see you there! 

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Quote by Destiny

sticky notes

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Guess who saw Ant Man and The Wasp :)) 

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*blows a kiss at a random ant* for scott lang

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You’re at a super hero party, guy’s like “I’m an inmortal god who controls thunder and lightning”. Another guy’s like “I’m the mutant King of Atlantis.” Woman turns to you, what do you say? I can make myself really small, talk to ants. Also divorced.

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gentle reminder

you matter

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pinches his side.

   He jumps, arm clamping down hard against one side in a very delayed attempt for a defense. Not that you can’t give him credit for trying. He’s not the Pillsbury Dough Boy. “If I ever went around poking dudes in the ribs like that, I’d get a flying elbow straight to the shnoz.” 

   Gosh, that side’s still sore. Ever since he joined a gym, decided to hit the mat with Hope at the old dojo-looking place she used to train, Scott’s been nothing but one extended bruise. “Guy from Kenya used to come in for a Rocky Road every couple days. ‘Never tickle a sleeping lion,’ he’d say.” Scott bends his arms up at the elbow, hands curled to imitate claws. He ducks his head. Dips back. Steps forward. Swivels his head in a try me sorta motion.

    “I’m the lion.” 

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DID U KNOW... THAT I LOVE AND ADORE U AND SCOTT TO PIECES??? bc i do. i love how much u love this soft & good dad so much that it inspired me to get the movie and watch it almost every day this week too. you have both brightened my days immensely! i'm so thankful to have met you and i cant wait to see what kind of journey these bbies are gonna take ;u;

   You get the icon of the most softest dad look ever because I came home so stressed and with a bunch of things on my mind and on my plate and. Well. Technically I still do, but I so very appreciate u and your kind words. Scott is such a challenge in terms of the type of muse he is compared to my norm, so I’m honestly so happy and so grateful to have supportive people like you helping me develop him and love him. thank u very much, friend. ;w; I adore u to pieces.

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Me: Scott Lang is biromantic demisexual; he deserves some development w/ ppl before I try to ship

Also me: *hangs up a shipping now available sign, opens the front door with promises of tea and lots of baked sweets and v cuddly ants.* Ship w/ my good dad bean!!

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Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator Sentence Starters

“Betrayed by my own butt yet again.”

“Can you explain memes to me?”

“Contrary to popular belief, penguins are… birds.”

“Did you think I was gonna stab you just now?”

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I swear to god if you cry again.”

“Don’t write checks your dick can’t cash.”

“Here’s to bad decisions and relaxed moral values.”

“How’s the…… jeeeeeeeeeesus?”

“I am a happy little cheese monster.”

“I am spinning a web of lies that I fear will one day consume me.”

“I don’t want your stupid fruit leather.”

“I have to get a solid two to three hours of brooding in per day. Filling quotas.”

“It’s called ‘string cheese’ and not ‘chompy cheese’ for a reason.”

“I’ll probably end up standing uncomfortably in the corner with a plate of food and hope that nobody talks to me.”

“I’m so many levels of irony deep I’ve forgotten what humour is.”

“I’m suddenly struck with the overwhelming need to crawl back into bed.”

“Mothman is bullshit.”

“My ultimate sexual fantasy is sleeping in on a Saturday.”

“OH SHIT THAT’S A KNIFE.”

“See you in class… bitch.”

“Sharks are tight.”

“So, you ever kill a man?”

“Stop being so desperate to please your hot friend.”

“That… that is a good butt.”

“The key to being cool is acting like you don’t care about anything but actually care very deeply about everything to the point where it’s debilitating.”

“This ice cream cake is my new boyfriend.”

“This is where I come to masturbate.”

“Wait, I’m a wreck.”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE.”

“You can never be too careful. See that baby in that stroller over there? Government operative.”

“Your face… is… good.”

“Your unending thirst will be your ultimate downfall.”

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Ant-Man is the MCU’s indie film

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Can we just sit here for a second and appreciate the fact that even with Scott’s lack of extensive training in combat, he managed to take Hope’s flying scissor move and use it against Sam Wilson simply by experiencing it himself over and over again?

My kinesthetic- and logical-learning boy applied his experience and knowledge of physics to effectively and safely take down an Avenger on his first solo Ant Man mission. :’)

And what’s more is the sheer fact of Hope’s expression saying it all: that she’s impressed. Here she was kicking Scott’s ass in this double-effort not only to play catch-up with him, but also to prove that she was better and more qualified for a job she believed him incapable of doing.

And yet my boy continues to surprise her at every turn. He watched, he listened. He learned. Scott is used to everyone underestimating him. He doesn’t pout about it. He simply learns, improves, and proves them wrong.

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FLUTTERS EYELASHES AT.

   The guys told him the suit’d given him something---something, they said, like it was intended to come off  profound. Scott was just glad they hadn’t complained. Not that he would’ve ever blamed them.

   Kurt, Dave. Luis. None of them started as cons but they ended that way, and that fact worked as a pack solidarity sorta thing, after they all did their time. But when Scott made out with the pick of the litter: a family taped together ( gilded in gold, if you asked him ), a super-suit and a super-job? All the guys ever had to say was it gave him something. 

   Also that it was badass.

   (Not to mention the question about whether or not you could isolate bits and pieces of yourself to shrink....or enlarge.) 

   But whatever that something was ever worth, it didn’t matter much in a dinky old bar like this. Maggie’d have a fit if she could imagine the kinda dirt this’d bring around Cassie. And Hope? God. Hope. If she found out he was here, she’d probably shake her head, strut off in those slit-your-throat stilettos, and throw back a comment about finding his niche after all. Women. 

   To be fair in a dig like this you got what you came for. Cheap, cold beer on tap and cheaper, hotter company by request. Both bathrooms offered condoms for 50 cents and toilets that glugged with foul-smelling water no matter how many times you flushed. A busted up jukebox that stopped playing five years ago sat in the corner---gives us character, Sherri the waitress liked to say, but what she really meant was the boss-man was too damn cheap to get it carried up and out onto the street.

   Sherri the waitress wasn’t there this time, a fact Dave kept pouting about into his drink between gulps. Luis and Kurt were off throwing bent-up darts at a lopsided board. And Scott? In all places and of all people, the one person who could’ve stood out easier than him just happened to be sitting across the bar, just happened to be sending him the sorta look any other dude would jump at. 

  Aranea just happened to be one of the (many) women he knew who terrified him---and honestly, only a fricking idiot would take one look at her and think themselves hot shit for approaching her.

  Scott’s eyebrows shot up when she gestured for him, and he lifted a hand to jab a pointer finger straight against his sternum. Me? he mouthed it at her and glanced behind him. Gil the regular flipped him off. Scott swiveled back around. 

   Honestly, some part of him juggled the idea of cozying up to Gil. “ You sure you’re not lost? Or is this some recruit thing for a rough-and-tumble photo spread we’re not supposed to know about?” 

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manaborn:

            She had to admit she was very disappointed that she wouldn’t get to see Cassie today to gift her the cupcakes, but that was okay, there were other days ( there was bound to be a babysitting job in her immediate future ) and Gwendolyn liked spending time with Scott just as much when it came down to it. Both of them had easily wormed their way into her heart. 

            ❝I really should rethink my alter-ego, then,❞ she proclaimed with a large smile as she stepped inside so she could set the boxes of treats down on the kitchen table, now with their new labels to distinguish which ones should be eaten. ❝LUCKY GIRL just don’t seem to work anymore.❞ not that she used the costumer or her other identity to fight crime anymore, kind of pointless when people knew who she was, but she wasn’t as lucky as she used to be.  

            ❝I hope you like ‘em and I’m fine !! My grandpa tried to feed me genetically altered alien food earlier so my appetite is GONE. That man should not be allowed near a stove but uh, do you mind if I hang out here for a bit? If you’re busy I understand! I just don’t feel like going home right now.❞

   "You’re always welcome over, Gwen. I’ve got nothing planned but a mindless, brain-rotting session of ‘Friends.’” Teens should be running around learning how to get themselves outta trouble, sticking it to the man with cigarettes and adrenaline kicks and runs for alcohol on fake IDs. Not that he officially CONDONED any of that ( stay in school, kids ), but the point was? Kid heroes and teen role models forgot how to be kids way too early. Not that Gwen needed telling. She knew. Kid was smart. Real smart.

   Smart enough to know she should be choosing to spend her time alongside anyone but ex-cons. Like. Come on, now. Stranger danger. “Yeah, my parents tried to make me eat genetically-altered food, too. Granted, GMOs ain’t exactly the end of the world. And brussels sprouts?" Scott’s face twisted up like he’d suggested something foul enough to be on par with alien food. Whatever aliens actually ate. “I’m telling you---those little nuggets are made of the same pure soul-crushing feeling you got after finding out Santa wasn’t real.”

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fllowershop:

                               ❝   &&  there  you  go  again  !  do  you  even  have  a  filter  ?  like  at  all  ?  ❞  there  is  no  real  animosity  in  her  scolding  ,  brows  high  on  a  pale  forehead  .  a  sigh  wafts  forth  .  a  beat  .     ❝   —————-  what  do  i  have  to  lose  .  okay  fine  ,  sure  .  go  for  it  .   ❞

   Scott’s shoulders lift in an exaggerated, lengthy shrug. “Eh. Nervous habit. But also I get like this when I’m bored. Or excited. Or just in a really good mood.”  What does he know about soil, anyway? He knows plenty about stuff: things that vary from jimmying a lock to what the proper consistency an egg custard should be. You could say he’s kinda a plant himself, but instead of soaking up sun, it’s experience for curiosity’s sake. And tea. Feed him tea---through the mouth though. Not the feet.  Plants are weird, dude. 

    “Okay, yeah. It’s just me. I’m like this.” 

   Feeling comparable to a plant and knowing about a plant ain’t exactly in the same ballpark. Feels a bit like mansplaining to question the woman who deals in flowers for a living. Best to leave it to the expert.

   He slides himself back toward the armchair he’d been inhabiting and pops a tart into his mouth whole. What kinda plant would he be, anyway, if he hadn’t taken the flora queen up on her offer for food and company? “Anyway---” he speaks around a mouthful sticky and thick with crumbs, “I’m just saying. The view from your side totally trumps mine.”