Latest Posts by getmizumonod - Page 6

When ur mutuals w/ some cool ass people rb if u agree

I hope every one of you trans folks in my phone knows this 🩷

...but diy hrt?! What if some desperate kid gets their hands on that kind of info?

If some kid is so desperate to be on hormone therapy and their living situation or parents won't help them, their doctor won't help them, their state clinics won't help them, and every legal resource has utterly failed to help them, and they stumble across a handy linked guide of all sorts of resources that could still help them anyways?

FUCKING GOOD.

Trans kids deserve better than what's allowed to be given to them in SO MANY CASES. Fix your hearts.

I promised a part two so here it goes. My letter to America and racism culture within Italian American culture.

50 years ago I wouldn’t be white. I mean, I’m not white. But I wouldn’t have had white on my passport (don’t ask me why it’s white on my passport) because I’m Italian. I’m not even Italian I’m Sicilian but to most Americans that’s the same thing. They think I’m being pompous and obnoxious about where I’m from. Like I’m more special than other Italian Americans. But like.. no? The opposite in fact??

Back in Italy, Sicilians aren’t white. Sicilians are dirty. They’re mixed and disgusting and their skin is too dark and they’re too poor. Back in Italy, my accent alone tells people what they need to know. So how does that relate to me, here in America?

In America, existing is confusing. My mother (the whitewashed Tsalagi woman) thinks I’m white on my dad’s side. “But Tala why the fuck does this matter?” I hear someone asking. Because you need to understand the difference between being Italian and Sicilian. It boils down to the fact that Sicily was colonized a trillion times. We had to do genetic testing for medical reasons, here’s what I found out. I’m Arab, black, unspecified Asian (dunno why they couldn’t specify), Greek, Italian, and ofc white and Native American. Those last two are from mummy dearest. Everything else is from my dad. Sicily is a mixed race culture. That’s why Sicilians look so different from each other. Because it’s not a genetic set, it’s mixing races. It’s a beautiful thing and a beautiful culture, but being Sicilian doesn’t make you white. You can be a white Sicilian the same way I’m Arab-Greek Sicilian, but it’s not an automatic designation.

If you’re sitting here wondering why the hell that matters, dw so did my friends before I explained it. Imma give you some examples of things that happened to me.

In meetings at the balboa park house of Italy, saying I’m Sicilian got me a ticket to having change my shirt bc a 40 year old woman purposely spilled her wine on me.

In 2023 I got called a Dago (a slur I haven’t heard used as one since my incredibly fucking Sicilian history teacher explained its use in America back in the day) because I had a Sicilian flag on the back of my jacket.

So yeah racism against Sicilians is still a thing and I’m tired of some of y’all acting like it isn’t.

What if you were a METH ADDICT, who came from an ABUSIVE HOUSEHOLD, and then you decided that you wanted to TRY AND BE GOOD (OR/AND FIND NEW DRUGS), so you went to a shady lab in MALAYSIA, and then you kinda DIED, and then you RESUSCITATED with GODLIKE POWERS, and some shady Russian blonde presented you with ADOPTION PAPERS, and saved you from your crushing evil alter ego depression with the POWER OF FRIENDSHIP-

canon

Holy shit this is so in character oh my god

Turns out, Wilson thinks he’s gay.

He drops that bomb on a Thursday night, sitting on House’s couch, where they’re splitting a greasy pizza and a large order of onion rings. Wilson’s not nearly drunk enough for it to be a joke, is the thing. His hands and voice are steady when he explains how it’s haunted him since he was a teenager, how he ran from it and into three failed marriages, how he cheated because he liked the thrill of the chase but was always unsatisfied with the outcome. He wants to tell the important people in his life to ask them for support in this new era, and House is the first one to know.

And yeah, it could explain things. A lot of things. Like the haircare routine, the regular mani/pedis, the shoe collection. This wouldn’t surprise many people. But House isn’t sure he believes him.

Still, Wilson is his best friend, so he tries.

He doesn’t interrupt the first time he sees Wilson getting a little too close and smile-y with a male nurse. (He interrupts the second time, because he knows that nurse is a vegetarian, and House can’t have that influencing Wilson’s cooking and takeout habits.)

He doesn’t sabotage Wilson’s first date with another man. (He does steal Wilson’s phone the next morning and delete the guy’s text asking for a second date, because anyone asking so soon is desperate, and Wilson can do better.)

He tells Wilson which shirts, ties, and pants make him look gay, only this time, he means it positively. He starts TiVoing Queer as Folk for them, instead of The L Word. He offers Wilson poppers one weekend, then has to explain what they are, and how he came to find out about them in the first place (he used to rave in the 80’s, so what?).

House is being supportive, really. Even if he still doesn’t totally buy that Wilson is actually gay.

Mostly, he doesn’t think Wilson is gay because nothing changes.

Wilson still comes over most nights to watch trash TV and drink beer. He still dutifully drops his responsibilities at work, albeit briefly, to provide a diagnostics consult, or to assist in some borderline illegal scheme. They still hang out, and argue, and laugh, and bicker, and celebrate wins together, and are there for each other in the quiet aftermath of loss. They’re still the same.

Maybe Wilson is just confused because he expected to have a wife and kids, and to live in the suburbs by now. Maybe he thinks the reason for this heteronormative failure is that he’s been chasing the wrong kind of tail, instead of the fact that he spends half his time at work and the other half with House, leaving no room for anything or anyone else. And maybe House should feel guilty about that, about robbing Wilson of the life he deserves and forcing him into a fake midlife sexuality crisis, but he doesn’t.

He sort of feels bad about that part, though—the fact that he doesn’t feel bad at all.

But he’s forced to acknowledge his faults when Wilson approaches him in his office one night, trembling before he can even get the words out, I can’t hide how I feel anymore, I need to tell you the truth.

House accepts that he’s selfish because he lets Wilson kiss him breathless, knowing Wilson will never be able to kiss anyone else like this again, knowing that when he tells Wilson to take him home, he’ll never be able to leave. Now he gets it all, the early mornings and the late nights, the warm beds and the cold shoulders, the biting words and the gentle apologies, and every jagged edge left will be weathered by time.

He understands that he’s greedy because he drinks up all the praises and pleading, every filthy word Wilson moans into his ear and whispers into his skin. There’s a lifetime of hunger behind it, a cosmic collision of pain and joy and grief and devotion. It’s a wine aged for twenty years between them, bottled want and yearning, poured into an overflowing glass.

He recognizes that he’s possessive, because he knows he’s got him now, and it's for good. There’s no more sharing attention, or waiting his turn, or swallowing the bitter bile of jealousy. Wilson will stray from any map to follow his true north.

So, whatever, maybe Wilson is lying about being gay, but at least House is honest about being worse.

The two ep is actually peak angry canine kin behavior im convinced

YAYYY PAWSOME!!

Pretty please I need cool people to join my pack and by my pack I mean I want to be in a pack. I need mutuals and we can be a pack. I’m not the pack leader we don’t have a pack leader

Kade will you join my pack :(

This is my everything

there's no death here | robert "bob" reynolds

ཐིཋྀ thunderbolts caught me with a bob-shaped hole in my heart.

warnings: spoilers from thunderbolts, super!reader, fem!reader, not sure if I'll make a bunch of parts or even finish this idea so be warned, gonna go ahead and say canon-divergent to save my ass bc im no marvel expert.

You weren't built for battle—the powers you had were more defense based than anything—but you had been trained by the best of the best. The countless lessons left your survival skills above subpar, and maybe you could make use of your size and strangle a man twice it, but those things didn't make you a hero.

And being around so many of them for so long, it's disturbingly easy to start to feel useless.

“Born or cursed?”

You didn't remember who had asked it. You do remember you had been younger, that you'd been more or less adopted into the world of the Avengers without ever truly being thrown into it. Wanda and Natasha had been your everything, especially when it came to helping with your powers. Between the supernatural and the mental side, they had done wonders.

Sitting around and not making use of yourself would be spitting on their memory, so it wasn't long before you were dragged into government business. Reading minds was handy, but picking apart memories? Entering their psyche?

You were gold to detectives and last resort for men in black suits who would “talk” to criminals if you didn't.

The work had drained enough from you by the time Bucky showed up on your doorstep with a bottle of liquor and a favor.

“This isn't what I do,” you told him, looking over the files. “I'm not a therapist or a teacher. If Void is as powerful as you say it is—”

“It can be beaten,” he explained. “We've done it before. I just need you to help Bob block it out. You know how to do that.”

“With other people's thoughts,” you argued.

He shook his head. “You suppress memories. You put them into neat little boxes for your agent work.”

“You want me to make him forget something that dangerous?”

“I want you to show him he's not alone when it comes to this side of superpowers.” Bucky stood, a warm hand coming down on your shoulder and squeezing. “We've all been scattered. It's a shit team, the New Avengers, but it's something, kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Bucky,” you sighed.

“I know. Wouldn't be asking you for your help if you were.”

The door shut to your apartment in farewell, but one visit from the Winter Soldier had too many opening at once. Flashes of earth's most mightiest heroes, of old friends, dead friends, missing ones.

Getting dragged back into that mess was asking for trouble.

Sipping on free alcohol, you flip through the packet of Robert “Bob” Reynolds. Sweet face, fucked past, and a far more fucked psyche for the powers he'd revealed in the last hit on New York.

Cursed, you decided by the end of your research, frowning as a picture slipped free. The New Avengers were definitely a ragtag group. Bucky was the only one you knew, Yelena you learned more than enough about through Nat digging around her head one time too many. Alexei Shostakov as well, but he was easy to pick apart at one glance. Anything revolving around Ava Starr and John Walker was rumors or passed down the grapevine.

Your phone vibrated. Checking it drew a deep line between your eyebrows. Someone was asking for another questioning, this time through the mind of a rampant serial killer in Chicago. They didn't have enough on him.

You leaned into your hands, sighing.

Across the block at a red-light, Bucky glanced at his phone and smiled as he read over the text.

“I need to meet him before I agree to this.”

The light flicked green.

The Watchtower was a shadow of the place you used to know. Repairs were still being made leaving people crawling on every floor but the top level had been finished for two weeks now, leaving the New Avengers with their shared space.

Bucky had promised the team would be out when you arrived, save for Bob. As it was quiet when the elevator door opened, you were glad to see he'd kept that promise.

“Welcome back,” he called, walking up.

“Which room did you snag?” you scoffed, eyeing the decor. Minimalist, neutral tones. Far greyer than the old room you remembered.

“The biggest.” He said it like it was obvious. Maybe it should've been.

Hearing movement, you both turned as a shadow passed by the windows. The hunched shoulders were a dead giveaway, soft eyes flittering between the floor and you as the young man stepped down.

Bob wore a dark blue sweater that drowned his figure and dark jeans. His hair was still a shaggy length and dark brown from the recent pictures you'd seen. By all accounts, he looked normal, but the anxiety flowed off him in waves that crashed against your head.

His mind extends way beyond others.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, clearing his throat. “You're, uh, Bucky's friend?”

You introduced yourself, stepping forward to offer your hand. He was quick to step back even across the room, body tensing.

“Wait, don't. I'm not sure if I—”

“When's the last time you transported someone into a shame room?”

The shock on his face had you glancing at Bucky for answers.

“Last week,” he said, crossing his arms. “Nothing super dangerous. Uncomfortable, but we get a lot of repeats so we break off easily enough.”

“Wait, so how much do you already know?” Bob asked, arms wrapping around himself.

“Enough,” you and Bucky respond.

Bob sighed, head nodding along as he turned away. “Great, guess that makes it easier.”

“I wouldn't say that; you're guarded now.” You moved closer, keeping your steps slow and your hands behind your back. Bob remained tense but didn't shy away. “Bucky called me here to see if I could help you, but I came here to see if you even want it.”

“Well, uh…” he swallowed, head bowing.

Do you want my help? His eyes flashed wide, breath catching as he looked up. You kept your expression neutral as you raised a brow. Do you? This will only work if you want to put in the effort.

“Can you see everything?”

You fought not to smile at the childish awe in his voice as it echoed back to you. I'm not looking. I'm listening.

A series of curses and panicked background commentary had you laughing.

I've heard and seen a lot. Honestly, don’t worry about it.

“That's easy for you to say,” Robert grumbled. “I cant control my thoughts like you can.”

“Would you like to?”

“It's not that I don't want your help,” he said, hands tangling into his sweater. “I just don't want to hurt anyone again. A lot of people… Some don't snap out of what I make them see. It's bad.”

“I have faith in my mental state,” you assured him. “Mental barriers, especially. I need to see just how powerful you are, though. Because if you get past mine, that means I'll be training you through trial and error. It's risky but it's not impossible.”

Bob looked to Bucky. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

Your old friend shrugged. “I brought her in because she's good at what she does. Whatever she wants to do, I have to trust it's the right decision.”

“I could hurt her!” Bob breathed and looked back to you. “I could hurt you really, really bad. Are you sure you know what you're signing up for?”

“I read through your files. I saw the extent of your powers and the aftermath of the accident,” you explained. “I'm prepared to help you with all things mental and psychic, but trust has to go both ways.”

You raised your hand again. He flinched, shuffling back.

“You want to help me now. What if that changes?” he whispers. “What if you see what it's really like and it scares you?”

“We won't know unless we try.” You took a step. Hand outstretched.

Bob looked at Bucky again, as if waiting to see if anyone would disagree. Whatever he searched for wasn't there.

He sighed and met your gaze. Pale blue eyes, you noted, with colors shifting around the pupil.

“Okay,” he nodded, holding up a shaky hand. The skin was bitten raw around his nails, skin dry but warm. The moment you felt it, there was a pressure against your mental shields. You could see the darkness clouding around you, searching for a way in, but you held firm.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, arm trembling as he stood there. His eyes were closed, head turned away.

You smiled, holding in a laugh as you used your other hand to grab his. “I'm fine, Bob. You're definitely powerful.”

“But you didn't see anything?” he said, eyeing where you were joined.

“I've had years to work on my mental barriers. You can't breach what doesn't have an entrance.” You squeezed his hand. “This is a really good sign. I'm going to have to let you in at some point to see just how potent your power is, but we'll work up to that.”

“You really don't see anything?” he whispered, hope rising in his expression as he searched your gaze.

“Just you,” you promised, unable to keep from smiling. “We'll have to work on your projection. Your thoughts are…loud.”

His face flushed red as he pulled away, sputtering an apology. There was some halfass excuse about the bathroom as he fled. Bucky stepped up to fill the empty space.

“What was he thinking?”

“None of your business,” you chuckled. “You got a guest room for me?”

But you had to admit you were flattered. Mens’ thoughts usually came up with the same descriptions for you at first glance. All your life you'd been met with disgusting thoughts and hateful opinions or plain “hot” and “sexy.”

This might've been the first time a man had ever thought of you as “radiant” before.

Tumblr was like “woah you have 100 posts” like yeah I know this is what I do to curb my ai addiction because it’s actually ethical. I am very lonely i need to scream into the hellsite void

My gf is so tired of me

Oh nooo autism :c

house episode where cuddy tries to call him in for extra hours but due to some old bylaw the hospital never got rid of, house realizes he can call out gay and spends the entire ep dodging phone calls from the hospital/cuddy after leaving a message that goes "i can't come in, im too busy being gay. check the bylaws"

cameron spends the ep trying to figure out if house is actually gay/bi because then she has one more thing in common with him, foreman tries to focus on the patient while cameron and chase bicker about if house is gay. wilson is also mysteriously absent. then at the end, after they finally cure the patient, foreman says something like "and he is gay, you know. or at least being gay today. he went home with wilson, and hasn't talked about seeing strippers in a month"

cut to house at home and wilson brings him tea or something and house teases him about it and wilson responds with "yes i'd make an excellent housewife" and house-not very jokingly-asks wilson to marry him and wilson says ok and the ep ends there and it's never brought up again until house gets admitted to the hospital 2 seasons later and they won't let wilson in to see him because family only, and wilson drops the marriage bomb

House md is such a trip because House and Wilson are standing cock to cock, tip to tip, packer to packer, emotionally and physically. House's employees have a polyamorous codependent relationship while also being at each other's throats constantly. Foreman's so represssed they think he's gay, Chase is so sexually active that he can't possibly be straight, Taub and Kutner scissored, Cameron's probably gay but she has a job to do so she isn't going to think about it too hard, Thirteen is bisexual and went to jail once. Everyone has used drugs recreationally at least once. They break into everyone's home then insult the state of their home and then diagnose the patient based on a "That's so Raven" vision that House has. They shouldn't have been doctors, they would all thrive better as Waffle house employees that leap over the counter to fight customers.

This is so niche holy shit

Pretty please I need cool people to join my pack and by my pack I mean I want to be in a pack. I need mutuals and we can be a pack. I’m not the pack leader we don’t have a pack leader

Kade will you join my pack :(

Absolutely devastating to not be able to lick out of a mug. What the fuck

“Bring back unethical gooning” oh I’m sorry between your gore addiction, your porn addiction, and your love for ai chatbots, I thought you understood what unethical meant

Almost breaking up w ur gf who you love more than anything and your friends not judging you except one guy who does kinda judge you for staying is hard :(

post nut clarity must be great. all i got is this fuckin post nut catholic guilt

YES I FUCKING LOVE LUNEPRINT. I’m way too scared to buy anything from there but I want to

Fun little tip for all my alterhuman/nonhuman friends!!

Luneprint sells amazing jewelry that for me personally, is very gender and species affirming. They sell slip chains, necklaces, bracelets, key chains, waist chains, boot charms, stickers, and even cool ass shirts!!! I bought a loop choker from them before they had their official design down, and I love it!! For me it’s very species and gender affirming! It’s also sensory safe which is awesome!!

(Some of their awesome products)

Here is a link to their YouTube!! Their website is here!! If you don’t trust clicking on a random link, you can find their website at shopluneprint and their YouTube at LunePrintShop.

COULDN'T MAKE IT ANY HARDER !

joaquin torres x fem!reader

: in which you and joaquin have known eachother as teenagers. You thought he was a pain in the ass and he spent everyday proving you wrong. Now that he's Captain America's protege, you've gotten a call that he was in the hospital after falling into the Indian Ocean, you'd do anything to go back to those days again.

: this was hardkey inspired by danny's interview in a talkshow, the coincidences are WILD. For the purpose of the plot, you and joaquin grew up in Miami.

: use of petnames, swearing, blood, implied death, implied murder, police chases, sort of spicy scene.

MIAMI, 2017

"CHECK IT OUT! I'M GUNNA DO IT!"

"JOAQUIN YOU ASSHAT GET DOWN FROM THERE! WE'RE GUNNA GET CAUGHT!"

You push your sunglasses above your eyes as you whirl over your shoulder to see Joaquin and another one of your friends Javi clamber on top of a second floor balcony overlooking the pool where all eight of you had broken into instead of attending 7th period on a particularly sweltering Friday afternoon. The news forecast advised everybody to stay inside and to hydrate frequently, but then again it was Florida, so naturally it fell on deaf ears.

The entire hotel, was closed off because of a bedbug infestation reported by a couple of tourists flocking to Miami because of summer, it's been a month since they fumigated the entire hotel and all you had to do was dodge a couple security guards. Which wasn't hard at all, you and your friend Sofia who was in your AP Physics class just fluttered your eyelashes at them long enough so that the others could get in.

Sofia who was currently in the water waded towards you who was propped up on your elbows, glancing up at Joaquin and Javi in the distance with stupidly wide grins on their faces, illuminated by scattered rays of golden sunlight shining through the trees from the penthouse. "We're gunna be busted thanks to them."

"Hey, why do you look so worried? I thought you wanted to skip class with us?" You wondered, raising a quizzical brow at her.

"I did, but now I think I shoulda just sat this one out. Listen to a white man teach me a language I already know." Sofia professed, taking a swig of Bud Light. "What if we get caught, man? If my parents find out about this i'm screwed."

"No pasa nada, If your parents are gunna chew you up so are mine, alright? We're in this together." You reassure her, laughing through your nose. "Besides, school ends tomorrow, they shouldn't get their panties in such a twist." Your statement then earns you a poke in the side making you cringe and let out a cackle.

You watch as Joaquin and Javi shimmy in front of the handrails of the balcony clearly preparing themselves to jump, in Joaquin's hand was a can of PBR, the cloud like carbonation from the beer was fizzing out from a slit on the side so that he and Javi could shotgun before diving into the pool. You watch how the liquid runs down Joaquin's arm, eventually making an unattractive splattering sound on the floor below.

"WHO WANTS TO SEE ME AND JAVI SHOTGUN THIS BEER BEFORE DIVING INTO THE POOL?!?"

The rest of your friends cheered and hollered. But you scoffed, immensely unimpressed, you always thought Joaquin was incredibly full of himself and was the main reason all of you kept getting caught. Sure, you shouldn't be there in the first place but sneaking into them would have been a hell of a lot easier without Joaquin roping in Javi to do stupid stunts with him. You scoffed once more as you turn your attention back to your phone to choose another song from your playlist; But before you could shove your earbud back into your left ear you hear Joaquin yell,

"WHAT DO YOU SAY Y/N? YOU THINK I CAN MAKE THE JUMP?"

You shoot him a disdained look, scowling from your spot by the pool. "Hopefully not, maybe then your mother would actually be proud of something you did."

Joaquin jeers playfully, even going as far as pouting at you from such a distance. "Oh come on angel! Have some faith in me!"

"Yeah Y/N! have some faith!" Javi chimes in, delighted as ever.

You shift your body in such a way that your front would be fully facing him. "I don't wanna have to explain to your mother her son nose dived onto solid concrete, I don't think I'd be able to keep a straight face."

Joaquin in return makes a face at you, half in disbelief, half in amusement whilst on the brink of laughter yet again. "Oh trust me, you'd be devastated if anything happened to this face." He replies all bold and cocksure.

You hummed. "I don't even think you can spell devastated if your life depended on it."

"¡Carajo, can too!" He riposted confidently. "How about this, every time I get a letter correct is how long we gotta kiss."

You laugh through your nose as everyone around you started hooting and hollering. "Where are we middle school? Please, if I wanted a kiss that badly I would've just stuck my face in front of a slobbering dog, even then it would be less sloppy."

Joaquin then makes a face, almost like he's just been stabbed. You roll your eyes at him for the umpteenth time. "I can't tell you how hurtful that is to me, especially since we've never even kissed before so you're basically going off of nothing here."

"And I'd like to keep it that way." You drawled as a matter of factly.

"If you two end up killing yourselves before graduation I'm actually going to burn you alive!" Another one of your friends, Isabelle, yelled from the edge of the pool before your other friend Mason grabs her by the waist and leaped into the pool with her. Everyone erupts in a chorus of laughter.

"What do you say Y/N? You up for it???" Joaquin hollers.

"In your-"

Your statement was short-lived when all of you hear shuffling from one of the farthest hallways almost like running. Your head snaps towards that direction just seconds before you heard the security guards yelling expletives and empty threats. All 8 of you scampered off with your shit, some leaping out of the pool, some even leaving their shoes behind. You sling your bag over your shoulder and start running towards the exit, in your peripheral you spot Joaquin and Javi climbing back onto the balcony as you follow Sofia out of there.

The guards were relentless despite their physique, being able to stay hot on your tail as you, Sofia, and Mason dart off in different directions, not before agreeing to meet up at a local mom n' pop shop a couple blocks from there that sold "naturally flavored" slushees. As you tiptoed your way through the barren outdoor bar, you found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder as the blazing afternoon sun battered it's unforgiving rays onto your face which made your hair cling to your skin uncomfortably, not a gust of wind blowing past.

Then you suddenly felt a hand wrap its fingers around your arm making you whirl around in shock, only to be met by Joaquin shooting you one of his signature shrewd yet saccharine smiles, a lone finger resting atop his lips as the sun illuminated his skin like it was glittering gold. Glittering gold? What are you? a fucking poet?

You tugged your hand forcefully out of his grasp, snapping yourself out of it. "You asshole! What the fuck were you thinking?!?"

Joaquin chuckles at your face, how your narrowed eyes expressed both disdain, relief and also an intense blaze of hatred. "That's a little hurtful don't you think? Whatever happened to 'hey joaquin?' or maybe even a 'sup sexy', hmm?"

You shoot him a deranged look as you jab him in the side causing him to recoil in pain. "I thought I was caught! What the fuck man?!?"

"Do you really think a guard would hold your arm the way I did?" Joaquin wheezed out, a certain sourness to his face as he kneads his gut. "Some fucking guard, I was being gentle as hell."

You roll your eyes at his excessive dramatics. "Oh come on, I didn't hit you that hard... Did I? "

"You definitely didn't." He says, making your face crease even more. "It's just that while we were running away I fell down a flight of stairs tryna get away from the guards, landed on my side, heard a crack. They almost cuffed my ass."

Your eyes widen, shame and regret overcoming you as you realize maybe you shouldn't have punched him. "Oh shit-! Oh my god I'm so sorry... Lemme take a look-" You babble abashed, eyes zeroing on the area where Joaquin had his hand pressed against.

"Hey, no, it's alright." He insists, a coy smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. "I'm alright angel I swear-"

"The hell you are, just lemme take a look, coño." You counter. "Here, lift up your shirt, I gotta see if it's swelling-"

After all that he still manages to laugh. "Can't a girl take a guy out to dinner first? Damn."

"Shut up." You say, focused, swatting his hand away. "Let me look at it, Joaquin."

"Dawww, look at you all concerned about me." He crooned, giving you a dopey smile. "Makes me actually wish I threw myself down a flight of stairs."

You take a step back, glaring at him in disbelief. "Oh you're sick."

"I think you mispronounced 'devilishly handsome'."

You scoffed, walking away from him before he jogs up to you, facing you as he starts walking backwards. "Hey, look, it isn't funny I got it. Apology accepted? Great! thanks. I knew you'd come around, angel."

"I actually thought I hurt you, dumbass."

"Hey, you could never hurt me, not for lack of trying but definitely because you don't know how to throw a punch for your life."

"Oh my god!" You exclaim in irritation.

"Look at you all hot and bothered." Joaquin guffaws at your face. "I wasn't the one that wanted to see me strip myself shirtless out in the open like this."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I swear to fucking God you're gunna wish-"

"HEY I CAN HEAR SOME OF 'EM OVER HERE!"

You and Joaquin turn your heads towards the voice before glancing at each other. "You wanna hold onto that sentiment?"

"Actually, I think this argument can wait. Part 2?"

"Jesus, just can't get enough of me, can you?" Joaquin accuses, shaking his head at you in disbelief. "I hate to say it, I think you're obsessed with me."

"You wish." You say biting down a grin with everything in you whilst pushing him away, hearing his raucuous laugh as both of you ran off as fast as you could. You don't realize he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him this entire time until the both of you managed to run 3 blocks in the summer heat and he lets go of your hand to open the door to the mom n' pop store.

WASHINGTON, 2027

After hours upon hours of surgery Joaquin finally wakes up. His eyelids fluttering open as if it had been the first time in a long time, to a fancy hospital room with scattered beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows.

The last thing he recalls is him flying over Celestial Island, a misunderstanding with Sam which led to a sudden outward burst of bright orange engulfing him, and the faintest feeling of being pulled downwards from the sky. But he didn't expect you sitting on the armchair beside him with your head rested on your hand, eyes shut, and lips parted as he picks up on your soft snoring

Still incredibly lethargic, Joaquin couldn't help but grin at the sight of you. Oh, if only he had the strength to reach over to the bedside table to get his phone and take a picture. He would never let you live it down. In fact he'd probably print multiple copies of it and give them to you every Christmas moving forward, until when who knew.

Just as he was entertaining the thought in his mind, he sees you stir in the chair; letting out a large yawn, you blink repeatedly as your eyes try to get used to the brightness of the room.

"Wakey, wakey." Joaquin teased, causing your head to snap up at him in surprise. His voice still evidently hoarse never lacked the amusement it held whenever he was a conversation with you. "you came all this way just to visit me?"

You smiled, laughing through your nose. "I didn't have any plans for the weekend." You shrug, rubbing your eye free of the film that stuck it together. "Thought I'd drop by, see how terrible you look."

"Oh yeah? What's your verdict?" Joaquin implored.

"You look like if a sock monkey was put through a meat grinder." You say, punctuating your statement with a giggle that made Joaquin's internal organs do a somersault. "Then again you always look this chopped."

"Wow, way to kick a man while he's down." He replies, fake hurt. "I fell outta the sky a couple days ago, don't I get a day off from your... colorful opinions?"

You shook your head at him. "Nah, not when you made me your emergency contact." You shift in your position, boxing your arms over your chest as you look down at Joaquin with an almost cocksure expression. "Although I do have to say thank you, I met Captain America AND The Winter Soldier. On the same day."

Joaquin tilts his head back against the pillow, grinning at the cieling in disbelief. "See? And you're still convinced I don't do anything for you."

Your snort, chuckling loudly. "For a moment I nearly forgot I ran three red lights for you, all I could think about was how well Bucky fit in that suit-"

"-Three red lights? " Joaquin echoes suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "Damn, see this is why I made you my emergency contact, you're not afraid to break traffic rules."

"I could think of a dozen other people that you could've thought of before you chose me." You retaliated.

"Oh yeah? Do you think they had the guts to run a red light let alone three?"

"All three of your siblings maybe?" You suggest comically. "I dunno, just choose one. They'd be more than willing to run every red light possible."

"Red lights sure, but they weren't ballsy enough to break into a skate park with me at 4am on a school night just to hang out." He argued, smiling at you. "And of course there was that whole fiasco with the hotel on Hibiscus Avenue-"

"Irrelevant, we did that with a ton of friends."

"Yeah sure, let's leave out the fact that we made out twice afterwards." He rolled his eyes. "We didn't do that with 'a ton of friends'." He emphasized, almost mocking you.

You gawk at him in disbelief. "Low. We were 18."

"Hey, at least you can say you made out with The Falcon." Joaquin laughed at you. "Not many people can say that. Now that everybody knows about me because I fell into the stupid ocean you can pull that card whenever you like."

A moments pause.

"Captain America said they had to restart your heart." You brought up, staring at the ECG monitor before sighing. "What were you tryna prove now?"

"That I could do it." He says honestly, the answer practically lunging out of his mouth. "That I could be the next Falcon."

"Except you nearly died." You tell Joaquin, he takes note of your posture, sitting stiffly in the chair as the conversation takes a turn.

"I came back." Joaquin reasoned weakly. "The man upstairs let me off on a warning, says I still got some shit I gotta finish."

"Clearly its because He didn't want anyone face-planting into pillars or pissing off any of the cherubs." You sneered, causing him to let out a huff of laughter. "Its not like you've matured much since we last met. You're still crashing into shit, leaping off shit."

"-Excuse you, that's called falling with style." Joaquin insisted as a matter of factly. "If i learned anything about watching Disney movies everyday when I was a little kid is that Buzz Lightyear would be stinkin' proud if he could see where I am right now."

You don't roll your eyes at him or scoff at him or make yet another witty remark, what you did do surprised him and even you. Your eyes suddenly appeared to be more glassier than usual, you scratch the inner corner of your eye as you frowned at him. "I thought I lost you." You say, the instability of your tone was what made Joaquin's throat tighten.

"I'm still here, I'm right here." Joaquin assured you. "You know a little tumble can't stop me."

"What if next time you don't get so lucky, huh?" You wonder quietly. "What if this is the last time you injure yourself and I don't get to see you wake up high as a fucking kite and grinning at me like I just told you I introduced you to Antman?"

He manages to laugh through his nose. "Angel, have a little faith in me, would you?"

You bristle in your spot, feeling fully awake now. "I hate the fact that you keep putting yourself in situations where you can get hurt. What if eventually my faith just won't cut it anymore? You can't fucking blame me for living in fear." You argue with him as you wept, tears coursing down your cheeks as you chased at them with your palms.

"We aren't kids in Miami anymore, you're not in the air force, you're a superhero. You've got two feet in the grave at this point and I think you're just waiting for someone with a shovel."

Joaquin eyes begun to sting. "That's not fair." He says quietly, shaking his head. "I'm trying to make a difference in the world, a real difference." You knew he was, the both of you grew up watching the Avengers fight crime in New York, then in Sokovia. Now several years later they've got someone that looks like Joaquin helping out the common man. Sure, it was a huge difference. Representation came a long way. But you couldn't deny how terrified you were every time you got an update from him saying he was on a new mission with Captain America

"It wouldn't matter, not when I lose you in the process." You tell him honestly, seeing a tear escape the corner of his eye. "Look we're friends, I- I care about you."

"I care about you too." Joaquin replies, almost a little too quickly, possibly to mask the overwhelming ache in his chest when you bring up the fact that you are just friends. "Maybe a lot. Hell, you're the reason I'm here right now."

You stop to glare at him. "Okay, rude."

"Remember when I told you I only enlisted in the air force because my family couldn't afford to send me off to college?"

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

"We still didn't, but the real reason why is that I wanted to impress you." Joaquin professed, looking back at you with a half-smile, like he didn't just throw you in for a loop. "I know it's stupid-"

"It is, it really is." You interrupt him mid-speech.

"Look, all I wanted is for you to think I'm great..." Joaquin admitted loudly silencing you. Though he regrets it a second later as he wets his lips, lost in thought before speaking once more. "I thought that- that if I made something of myself then maybe you didn't look at me like I was just someone you grew up with that pissed you off all the damn time."

"Why?" You wonder, your brows still furrowed.

Joaquin opens his mouth, then closes it and lets out a huff of laughter. "I dunno, maybe cuz I sort of had a big fat crush on you in highschool."

"Oh yeah, I didn't pick up on that at all." You drawled sarcastically causing Joaquin to laugh at himself in embarrassment prompting you to chuckle at his face.

"Now this is the part where you say you liked me too."

"Is it?" You wonder, drying your eyes. "Huh... too bad."

"Huh... so this is the feeling of getting shot a hundred times." He says with realization.

"You gotta get used to it. You're The Falcon now, you can't cry if you stubbed a toe while trying to do the Michael Jackson lean."

"Hey that toe actually broke, you know."

"You're not helping yourself in this situation." You shook your head as you find yourself laughing at him again. "We really can't have one serious conversation."

If it was possible, Joaquin's smile grows wider. "Admit it, I make you laugh and you love it."

"Never in a million years." You enunciate. "And it dosent count because you're high."

"Me??? High???" He wonders almost scandalised. "Pshhh watch this, D-E-V-A-S-T-E-D."

That gets the tiniest chuckle out of you. "Well done, does somebody want a treat?"

"Nah, I want something better." He says, almost like he was alluding to something you're clearly not aware of.

You shook your head at him as it finally dawned on you. "Hell no, Joaquin."

"Come on!" He insisted as you hide your face in your hands. "You remember that day in the Hotel, right?"

"I'm not kissing you, your breath smells terrible."

"Ahhh so you haven't forgotten. I knew it." Joaquin guffawed, nodding.

"How many times do I gotta say no before you actually listen to me?" You clapped back, almost challenging him.

"D'you wanna find out? Because pucker up buttercu-"

He is swiftly silenced by the sudden collision of your lips onto his, he shuts his eyes closed as you re-angle your face, deepening the kiss. You feel his cold hands cup the side of your jaw, you flinch. He grins against your lips, he's definitely noticed. In return, you gently nibble on his lower lip making him let out a low groan that made you quiver, you lean in closer as if the pair of you weren't close enough at this point, your chest and his near centimetres apart, your heartbeats melding into one.

An intense fervor flourished to life within you as he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, the strand of hair being draped over your face on account of having to lean closer to him. Joaquin moved his hands to grip the base of your neck just as his tongue entered your mouth, you allow him in as both of you passionately duel against eachother as if there was a battle to be won. No, Joaquin had to remind himself the fighting was in the past, all he could feel, all he could touch, all he could smell was you. All there was, was you. And that was a thousand victories on its own.

"Shit- angel... you're tryna kill me." He mumbled so quietly it made you chase at his lips, effectively shutting him up.

"That enough not to make you leave?" You answered, the kiss intensifying a hundred fold. Teeth clashing together, the sound of you and Joaquin gasping for air without having to pull away, laboured breaths in between the sound of poppysmic, and the sheets shuffling.

Suddenly the door knob turns and you and Joaquin pull away instantly, it was almost comical. It was the nurse with a concerned look on her face and a clipboard in her hands. "Is everything alright in here?"

Joaquin clears his throat, glancing back at you who was slouched in the armchair, scratching the side of your mouth. "Uhhh- y-yeah, yeah everything's uhm... fine."

"You two sure?" The nurse reiterates. "His heart rate spiked up all of a sudden, gave us all quite a scare out there."

You finally spoke up. "Sorry, no, we were just... laughing at the birds... outside."

"Uh-huh, you shoulda seen them... one of them was doing the Russian folk dance." Joaquin supplements, his statement falling apart mid-sentence. He makes a subtle face at you in confusion to which you mirror.

The nurse raises a quizzical brow at the pair of you, she takes note of the flushed cheeks and the apparent yet awkward looks you had on your faces that you two failed at hiding. She glances back at the monitor, Joaquin's heartrate wasn't as rampant as before as it began decreasing by the second.

"I'll come back in a while, keep that heart rate of yours in check pretty boy."

"Isn't that kinda your job?"

"Excuse me? "

"That was outta line... that's my bad." Joaquin replies quickly, offering an apologetically cheeky smile as the nurse shuts the door behind her, muttering to herself.

You and Joaquin then look at eachother.

"You know... that's three now." He suddenly says.

"Oh, so we're keeping count? " You bounce back, sitting up.

"Yeah, so we can keep breaking that record..." Joaquin paused. "If you're interested." He suggested coyly causing you to roll your eyes at him again, trying your best not to let him see the red tint blossoming from your cheeks.

You hummed out a laugh. "Try and get outta that hospital bed first, let's see what happens."

Miss Josephine Barry I love you dearly please don’t ever stop being a lesbian

welcome back 2014 marvel tumblr

Silly guys

reblog if your url represents who you really are 

I have a love for submissive men but I am also very submissive so it doesn’t work out well :(

warnings: mmm minor spoilers BUT if you’ve seen marvel’s social media accounts as of late, the posters/asterick reveal specifically, you already know. oh and drug mention and very light mental health issues

a/n: cant wait for higher quality gifs……

not requested

Bob nervously stood in the frame of your door with a hairbrush clutched between both his hands. He stared down at the ground with his long curls blocking his view of you ever so slightly, then cleared his throat just loud enough to announce his presence. “Y/N?” He shuffled his feet timidly and you looked up from your laptop, working up new logos and team names just in case Sam Wilson actually did file for copyright.

“Yeah?” You gave him a soft expression to assure him he wasn’t disturbing you, a small curl of your lips to put him at ease. His body language was…typical, but starting to ease up day by day. He was making progress. You looked him up and down and noticed what was he held in his hands.

“Could you…help me brush my hair?” Bob’s voice was low and somewhat rough. You could see his hair was a little bit messy, but no different than usual. “It’s hard sometimes. I’m tired.” He tried to explain and you patted the space next to you on your bed, welcoming to sit beside you. “Thank you.”

You took the brush from his hand, but before beginning with the tool provided, you started with your fingers. Your nails against his scalp calmed him more than any drug he’d ever gotten his hands on. You gently worked out any knots that may have otherwise got caught in the bristles of the hairbrush and hurt him. Bob’s eyes had been closed a few minutes now, his thoughts at ease, and a weight lifted from his shoulders. Once you saw fit, you took the brush and began slowly pulling it through his brown curls. Bob asking for help was a step in the right direction, and you felt content that he asked you. Made you feel like you were heading in the right direction, too.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

thinking two characters have had sex does not equal shipping at all… i dont have to like it i just know it happened

Greetings.

Go punch a nazi, zoophile, or pedophile today.

This is the prophecy Mary Shelley foretold

Sorry I can't make it this evening. Yeah, conducting unethical experiments on my boytoy again. Yeah, it'll be all night.