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whatscallion · 5 years

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“Just call me cake, cause I’m going straight to your ass, cowboy.” with Nat and Steve PLEASE

In the spirit of the upcoming month of Halloween …

Tagging @cptsteven bc i know she’ll like it too

It was the fifth annual Stark-o-Lantern Halloween party, taking place the weekend prior to the actual holiday itself, if only because it fell boringly in the middle of the week. No one had ever truly cared much for the gothic holiday, citing far more important activities to be had, the laziest being “listening to police scanners” ( courtesy of Clint Barton ). It wasn’t until the idea of unity and family came to surface in the team of the righteous did the holiday become something to look forward to.

Leave it to Tony to foot the bill to make it that way.

Property out north of the city had been bought ( much to Pepper’s chagrin ) and the proper people were hired ( also to Pepper’s chagrin ) to make each year more memorable than the last. A corn maze. A haunted mansion. A miniature carnival complete with rickety rides and rigged games. It felt important to provide a place where they could relax and mingle with one another without the “sir” and “ma’am” and weapons.

Mostly.

“I told you you couldn’t bring guns,” Tony admonished, catching sight of the Winghead dressed, unsurprisingly, for the Wild, Wild West. “I also told you that you couldn’t use the same costume as last year. This is just lazy, Steve.”

“It’s not lazy. You really think I had time to go down to Target and get something new?” Sheriff Rogers was holding an unnecessarily spiked hot apple cider and posing casually in fringed chaps, wranglers, a further fringed leather vest, and a crisp white Stetson. Had this not been the third time Tony had seen this outfit, he would’ve pointed out that he could’ve been in a remake of ‘True Grit’ seamlessly. But alas, he was left thinking of ‘Blazing Saddles’.

“Rogers, you’re killing me.” And it was at that point a rare moment of childish humor came into play: Steve pulled the plastic gun from his holster and clicked the trigger. “If I didn’t know it was impossible for you to get drunk, you’d have me thinking otherwise. I have to go make sure Barton isn’t hoarding candy for his kids. Please try to have fun.”

“You make it sound like I don’t know how to have fun-”

“Fun isn’t something you can really fake,” Sam chirped in over Steve’s shoulder, making the soldier jump a bit at the sudden appearance of his friend. “Ahaha, gotcha, huh?”

Sam was dressed … interestingly. Someone had wrapped him entirely in aluminum foil, drawing a very unimpressive circle on his chest. The perking of Steve’s eyebrow must’ve been question enough.

“I’m Aluminum Man. Y’know, like Iron Man but-” Words were cut off at the sheer confusion on Steve’s face. “Nevermind. Hey, you seen Buck around?”

“No, not yet.” He doubted his best friend would show up, not that he was really banking on it. In fact, he was hoping someone else would show up. “Haven’t seen nat either.”

“I’m sure they’ll show- oh mY GOD.” Sam spotted Buck, who had cut his hair short, dyed it blonde and was wearing one of the uniforms Clint had turned down. Sam was immediately howling with laughter, and Steve could not believe the defected assassin was taking a cheap shot at the archer in a parody costume. “YOU DID NOT.”

Buck grinned something snarky, pointedly ignoring the glare from the candied apples stand across the path. Clint was already planning his revenge of the greasy piece of sh-

“I had to. I couldn’t let all the stuff he says about me fly like that.”

“The blonde does not suit your complexion at all, man.”

“Oh good, then I look more like him than I originally thought.”

The trio had a solid snicker, spending time rounding up a variety of sugary goods, spiked hot chocolates ( of which Sam had ordered a “cup of me”, bringing Steve to facepalm ). Despite the time spent with the boys, which was surely a fun time, Steve had kept a keen eye out for a familiar silhouette and shade of crimson. Disappointment was slowly starting to settle into his bones, but more so at himself. He should’ve known better than to think Romanoff would attend one of these parties. Had she even gone to any of the prior ones? Or was her costume just that good? The revelation brought him to scrutinize costumes that hid faces, but he was left with more suspicions than answers.

A hand patting his back brought him thoughts back to the candy corn he’d been taking his time eating.

“Don’t worry, bud. You shouldn’t get down about Nat. She’s never been one to be like … out there, y’know?” Sam had had one too many spiked hot cocoas, but the sentiment remained the same.

“You’re right,” Steve admitted. “It’s not like I had anything planned, anyways.”

This was a lie. He’d wanted to kiss her in the corn maze. Was that too cheesy?

“Yes. That is really too cheesy,” Buck said, eating cotton candy from the end of an arrow. It hadn’t occurred to Steve that he’d been thinking outloud. For a moment, he was thankful for the lack of light in the night air since it meant no one could see just how red his cheeks were in a furious blush.

“Shut up. Let’s hit up the Haunted Mansion.” Sam swooped in, per usual, to save the day. Any kind of wallowing could be fixed in the eyes of Sam Wilson, despite him knowing how much Steve thought haunted mansions were cliche and boring.

When you are in a constant war with every bad guy in the universe, is there such a thing as a jumpscare anymore?

It was a way to pass time, so Steve couldn’t really argue with the boys, who almost always ribbed one another too much to even notice the zombie jumping out of the dark corner in the room or anything. Steve was just thankful that he had a handful of candy corn and two grown children to babysit.

Until they suddenly weren’t even around. When did he get alone in that room? The bland walls flipped to produce mirrors. A whole lot of mirrors, leaving the patriot to stare at several dimensions of himself, bathed in a sickly green light. He couldn’t help but notice that green really wasn’t his color.

Movement in the corner of his eye, and he nearly snapped his neck trying to catch it in time. All he was left with was, well, nothing. It made him think he was just seeing things because of the general ambience. It wouldn’t be the first time. Wanda was banned from using magic within the first ten minutes of her first appearance at one of these Halloween parties. That had been a James Wan movie made real.

Another movement from the corner of his eye, leaving him whirling to try and catch it. Again nothing.

“Ha ha, guys. Very funny, trying to scare an old man. We all know that isn’t happening.” Confidence painted his tone thickly, as if he was absolutely sure this was something Sam, Bucky, and Tony had cooked up in their free time. He wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest if that were the case.

Two fingers walked two inches up his spine, though he spun again to try and catch who’s fingers it was, only to be met with his own face looking back at him.

“Come on, guys. Using Wanda like this isn’t very nice.”

Two more inches, and he turned. He wasn’t met with his own face, but rather a neon glowing sign shining through the mirror that was creating an illusionary wall. The green light had changed its source from the bulbs overhead to this light alone.

It was a neon pair of green lips. Nothing special, and nothing particularly unnerving about it. An unseen white neon bulb flickered a skull and crossbones behind the lips. Steve rolled his eyes.

“This is just getting annoying,” he grumbled, looking around to try and find a way out. Calloused palms moved along the mirrors, leaving prints in his wake in his search for the exit. But the further he traveled from the neon, the darker the shadows grew.

He was met with another neon sign, though this time, it took on the crude illustration of a witch face. Rather than look as if it were fixed on a wall, it moved slightly. It would be now that Bucky would tell Steve that this was a golden rule in watching horror movies: the closer a character looks at something, the more likely there is to be a jumpscare.

So, naturally, Steve Rogers leaned in to try and see if he could make out what was attached to the neon face.

Instead of getting an answer, he was met with a quiet and remarkably sinister whisper in his ear despite there being nothing in the reflection.

“Just call me cake, cause I’m going straight to your ass, cowboy.”

It was followed swiftly with a loud SMACK! across his ass.

And thus, Steve Rogers nearly jumped out of his skin, crashing into not one, but two mirrors with flailing limbs and scattered candy corn.

With the breath stolen from him and nerves frayed, he laid in a heap of broken mirrors, fluorescent lights flickering to light above, only to be blotted out by that damned witch mask. He felt so cold in that moment, right up until that mask was pulled back, and the face of a very, very sneaky Russian was grinning down at him.

“NAT?!”

“Did I ever mention that I love Halloween?”

“NO?!”

“Shh.”

“NO!”

She helped him pipe down with that kiss he’d been wanting, though he would’ve greatly preferred his original idea of the corn maze to this.

But he couldn’t help but grin about it the next day.

#romanogers #captain america #black widow #mine #answered #babyhenbitch #idk why i always write more around halloween #userlu #kaitsfam #userblackwidow #userlulu

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anagonyeet · 5 years

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happy early lunar new year!! from your friendly neighborhood spider ham.

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lovestruckszn · 5 years

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okay so i recently reached 1k and i’m still in shock tbh. i’m so thankful for every single one of you and thank you for following my trashy blog ♡ i thought i’d celebrate by starting a fandom family of my own and doing some blogrates!

rules:

must be following this nerd

reblog this post

maybe check out my edits and sideblog (optional)

blacklist #kaits1k if you don’t want to see this!

send me an ask with up to two of these:

☀️ + your name + three characters from any of my fandoms + and a quote to join my fandom family!

my main fandoms are marvel, b99, star wars, tgp, and various ya lit (trc, aftg, soc)

my fandom family will be tracking #kaitsfam, so feel free to share your edits, selfies, and posts there!

check here to see who’s taken.

🌙 + song recommendation or your favorite movie (mcu or not) for a blog rate (format is below the cut)

some beloved mutuals and the blog rate format below the cut:

blog rate format: (yes i’ve been using this format for ages don’t @ me)

url: it’s aight | it’s cute | love it | whatta steal | natasha romanoff

mobile theme: not too shabby | wowzers | love of my life | wanda maximoff

desktop theme: oh worm? | stealing the code brb | carol danvers

posts/content: i don’t get it | not my style, but it’s nice | i’m in envy | okoye

overall: i like it but not my type | a good blog™ | lovelovelove | valkyrie

am i following: nope sorry :/ | how did i not follow before | of course | ‘til the end of the line, pal

and now for my wonderful mutuals:

@titanides @bithor @bisexuael @bisteverogers @bivalkyrie @bianthonystark @lannister @hardytomm @hasan-minhaj @starkbucksss @cometbarnes @wlwbrunnhilde @tiredbuckys @odinhson@bistevebucky @odinsion @sassyreads @fennecsus @adventures-of-sabrina @sokovianpietro @kamalakahn @monalisavitos @shieldrogers @carriefish-er @blackwidow @srgntbuckysbarnes @brolinjosh @cptsteven @tahanisaljamil @ironarm @spidermacn @catebelate @hadleysfraser @captainsamerica @buckychrist @theassetseyeliner @peggycaerter @jewishcap

#so i'll try to answer them all tonight or later this week #and i'm still working on the fandomfam page so give me some time on that #kaits1k #kaitsfam

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whatscallion · 5 years

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/ / Black Widow #5 ( 2019 )

#black widow #marvel #marvel solicitations #natasha romanoff #userblackwidow #dailyteamcap #dailywidow #dailyblackwidow #fyeahmarvel #kaitsfam

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anagonyeet · 5 years

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GWEN STACY / SPIDER WOMAN ICONS

250 x 250px

please like, reblog or give credit if you save

please don’t repost or claim as your own

icons are under the cut

feel free to ask for other colours :)

#gwen stacy #gwen stacy icons #spider woman #gwenstacyedit #spiderverseedit #spider man into the spider verse #mine #nicsfam #jasfam #kaitsfam #marveledit #marveldaily #dailymarvel #marvel #/i made a png which i didn't use so enjoy?#/yh that's about it #willow tried her best #*graphics #resources : marvel

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whatscallion · 5 years

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Summary: The aftermath of Thor celebrating another day lived with his fellow Avengers and realizing just how pitiful they are. First person and Taika-Influenced. 970ish words.

Pairing: None LOL this is all Thor

A/N: This is my second submission for @blackberrywidow‘s follower celebration! CONGRATS AGAIN, BABY HEN BITCH!!!! You deserve all the followers c:

Time: 1:30am on a Friday

Place: Smith’s Bar

I am, without a doubt, disappointed.

In a realm boasting the universe’s mightiest heroes ( of which I doubt because I have fought many a mighty hero and they could squish these tiny ones ), I am alone. I am a traveler far from my own realm with nary a familiar creature in sight. Familiarity is there, of course, for animals often are descendents from those much larger, pointier, and angrier beings I’ve tussled with.

Those I have surrounded myself with are considered infants - small, soft, loud, and almost always unhappy unless there is food or love involved. And even then, the optimism runs thin.

Stark, who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, has bettered himself as a mortal through countless ways, yet I can see the recklessness in his martyr mentality. It is admirable, though I know my father would roll his one ( 1 ) eye at the idea. Such brilliance in a short man - I cannot fathom what goes through his mind, zipping around like these agitating scooters in the city. Or whatever they’re called. He didn’t have anything to drink, yet he’s curled up sleeping under the table. I wonder if this is the first time he’s actually gotten proper sleep in a fortnight. I’ll ask him later as he’s complaining over the lack of strength in the coffee brewed. Such stuff is truly disgusting. I don’t understand how Midgardians can drink it willingly.

Rogers, a man from an era existing only in the history books children tote around, sleeps much like my father did - arms crossed over his chest, head tilted back and mouth open to let out an uproarious snore. He’s seated across from me, this symbol of freedom and democracy, and I can only think of his audacity at chiding me for my own attire. Surely he could’ve dimmed his own patriotic colors, even if it is against the wishes of the masses. Romanoff had spoken once of a suit made of the midnight sky - I should ask him about that when he wakes. It took only three glasses from my own reserve to see his decorum falter into that of childish giggling and slurring. He deserved the respite.

Speaking of Natasha, she had stayed awake a lot longer than I would’ve guessed - becoming the last one to succumb to the nectar of the gods. Though her stature is shorter and more lithe than that of Stark’s, a war brews beneath her skin in a way only I can relate to. While I remain this brute, she is pure elegance in lethality. I grow envious at times, catching glimpses of her work, be it physical or otherwise. It was no wonder she’d outwitted my clever brother, and unlike anyone else who has accomplished such a feat, she has remains humble. Somber. Stoic. Absolutely terrifying, and I’ve no doubt she could kill me in my sleep. Me. A demi-god. Dead by a mortal’s hand. I pray to Valhalla she needn’t ever do that.

Banner. Oh, Banner. I don’t really know where he is at the moment, but I hope he’s doing well and is at least not very angry. And doing something with his PhDs ( whatever those are ).

Where even was the archer?

Such thoughts plagued me as I looked towards the bottom of my glass, obviously scowling at the way my hand felt all too big. These people were so small - it was a trait I couldn’t get over. But what they lacked in height, they made up for in ingenuity. Companionship. I am reminded over and over how these Midgardians are far more heroic and selfless than I could ever be.

It’s a thought that hinders me as the rest of the mead is finished, the glass quietly set back upon the tabletop. Though the beverage was something of a social lubricant, it now stifled my muscles, making me want to succumb to the very slumber my patchwork brethren were fully enjoying.

But they deserved such rest, whereas I had yet to achieve such a reward. There was still so much for me to do, and all those things resided outside the doors of this homely ( albeit shady, as the young Peter Parker would’ve said ). It was just a matter of grunting my way through a stretch and trudging onward.

“Hey, buddy-” Ah, the tender. The stout purveyor had been such a good sport throughout the evening’s discourse and uproarious hilarity. Truly, he was not being compensated well enough for his patience in serving those who protected this realm.

“Yes, good sir?” Something spoke to me - telling me to stay at the table despite this small, unnecessary feeling to simply flee, leaving behind my compatriots.

“You gonna pay fer all this mess?” Mess? He must be confused, surely-

Oh.

I finally looked beyond that of my family to find that the Midgardian term “rowdy” was somewhat of an understatement. Why weren’t things here built with the same sturdiness as Asgardian effects? I don’t quite recall that many broken chairs, the cracked glasses, nor the oddly lopsided billiards table. Had that really been our doing?

“Oh, uh . . .” Words began to fail me, so some kind of entity overtook me, forcing movements through my limbs without my knowing. All I knew was that I needed to get out that door as soon as possible and without any obligation to the situation.

“You can’t just finger-gun your way out of this!” It was the last thing I heard before that heavy door slammed shut, sealing away any anxiety that had been induced by the monetary debt I ( but really, my friends ) owed the tender.

A sigh heaved through me, and relief flooded in.

“That was far too close. I wonder what Volstaag would’ve done . . .”

#thor #bbwidow's500wc #thor odinson #black widow #captain america #ironman #hawkeye #hulk #mine #babyhenbitch #kaitsfam

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whatscallion · 5 years

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Summary: Tony makes the evening news and catch a glimpse at the general anxiety that entails being in love with him.

Pairing: Pepper Potts x Tony Stark

A/N: This is my submission to @blackberrywidow‘s celebration! I have another one to do, but enjoy!

It was, to no one’s surprise, just like any other day. An unusual and almost eerie silence had overtaken the Stark Tower. There was the din, of course, where the worker bees did their normally scheduled things in order for the company to succeed, with hushed voices and subtle typing. Everything was state of the art - miles ahead of the competition and bustling all the same. So smoothly were operations running that it held one undeniable thing in place: this feeling of subtle dread sitting heavily in the pit of Pepper’s stomach.

There were never days that went as quietly as this, be it a fire in R&D or an alien invasion just outside the windows. Something was lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on her and test both fortitude and patience alike, and she could count on this as much as she could count on the sun to rise every morning.

Peace gave her anxiety, she’d come to realize, and while it may’ve been a natural thing given those she finds herself in the company of more often than not, there was still one person to blame for this particular disposition.

And he just burst through her office doors, smiling like the world wasn’t on the brink of imploding in on itself.

“Guess who made the evening news!”

That alone was enough to make that inkling of dread in her stomach explode into a full-fledged nuclear bomb, searing away frivolous emotions to adopt something closer to “Clean Up Crew” of the collateral damage he had surely imparted on the world, and most notably, her.

“Tony, please. Today was such a good day,” she started, hating the fact that this was not the first time she’d responded to his “good news” with pleading. The slight pucker in her brow was all she’d let him see, though, refusing to unveil this building anxiety that was prickling over her scalp like a wildfire.

Tony Stark, on the other hand, was unphased by her pleading, often choosing to ignore it for the sake of shock value. Their tandem would allow Pepper to assume almost everything in any given situation, and still be remarkably accurate with said assumptions. It was a gift and a curse knowing Tony that well.

“And it’s going to continue to be a good day,” he chirped through a smile almost too wide for his face, plopping down in front of her pristine desk. There was a subtle glance to the only framed picture there, the only memento of something personal - a picture of the two of them, both ridiculously attractive ( in his opinion ) and happy.

It was a contrast to how she was scowling at him right now.

“Tony-”

“Before you say anything, just know that I love you and I did this with good intentions.”

Pepper wondered if he knew about the adage that the road to Hell was paved with good intentions. She was sure he did, but chose to ignore it. In fact, he chose to ignore most conventional things, the more she thought about it.

“How bad is it?” Dread furthered its veiling of her tone, sparking a stress headache behind her eyes. Most, if not all, her headaches were named after him.

“It’s not bad at all. I don’t think the press can even do a bad spin on this.” Tony’s confidence was showing through, but her lack of faith in him wasn’t fought. He knew he’d earned that doubt through countless years of giving her ample reason to have it. It’d be a shame if he broke the record now. “I promise. It’s a good thing. Just trust me on this.”

“Remember the last time you told me to trust you?”

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault that Dum-E couldn’t handle that responsibility-”

“He almost broke my arm, Tony.”

“Would it help if I told you that Dum-E wasn’t involved in this?”

“No,” she answered almost too fast. “Tony, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m the CEO of the company you dropped in my lap-”

“-you’re welcome.”

“-I am not the person who cleans up your messes anymore.”

There was a moment of quiet thinking before brown eyes met baby blues.

“But you do it so well?”

That earned Tony a harsh glare and a sigh from the strawberry-avoiding love of his life, and he refrained from telling her how cute she looked when she glared at him.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“No, the opposite. Hey, this isn’t twenty questions.” He was trying to swerve away from the topic, even if it meant picking an argument he was sure to lose despite his way with words.

“What did you do?” It was the one thing she didn’t want to ask, but there was an undeniable need to ask it.

The two seconds it took Tony to do anything in response felt like two years, almost invoking an urge to cry into the glasstop of her desk, but there would be no waterworks. Pepper Potts was a fierce woman who had spent years wrangling Tony during his more rambunctious day, and this particular brand of Tony was far easier to deal with, even if there were personal elements involved now.

Love. Their future. Their shared preference of getting takeout from one restaurant. Their shared appreciation for Happy Hogan. The idea of a Stark spawn on the horizon.

“I donated money-”

“How much?”

“A good amount.”

“To who?”

“The hospitals that took the hits during the Chitauri attack. The Sokovian government. And a few orphanages. And more animal shelters than I care to admit.”

The air was still between them as she simply studied him. Tony wasn’t one to lie to her, often claiming that she could see right through him and that it was a necessary skill in order to love him. Pepper would like to think that in the end, it was worth it.

She loved this stupid, generous, vain, thoughtful little man.

“Okay,” was all she could offer him, and in return, both his brows popped up.

“Okay? That’s it? That’s all I get?” He looked downright pouty with the reception he got of his goodwill towards mankind.

“After I eat a handful of Tums and get home tonight, I’ll reward you properly. And besides, you didn’t do those things for me.” A slow smile started to stretch on her lips, her heart warm with the fact that Tony could do so much for people and ask for so little in return, wanting only her validation these days.

“Should we buy stock in Tums?”

“We already own 68% of the company.”

“You know I love you, right?” They were both standing now, Pepper moving around the desk in a crisp gray dress that held angled seams that just exuded the professionalism she routinely wielded like a weapon. Before him she stood, both hands taking his.

“Of course you do. You’d be lost without me. I love you too, Mister Stark.”

“Wanna say that again tonight after dinner?”

“No,” Pepper replied, letting go of his hand to eat another Tums.

#pepperony #bbwidow's500wc #pepper pots #tony stark #ironman #mine #babyhenbitch #kaitsfam

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