#captain america latina

[ivydoomkitty]

Happy Veteran's Day! We thank you for your service!

❤️🤍💙

Pic dougstidhamphotography

[mcu-binge]

LOVE IN BROOKLYN pt 6

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

Sundays had always been sacred in my family, ever since I could remember. No matter what was going on in our individual lives, no matter the arguments or the tension, we always gathered around the dinner table for a weekly family meal. It was an unspoken rule—one of the few things we still held onto as a family. And, as the youngest, it had always fallen to me to ensure everything ran smoothly.

I pulled up to my parents' house, the familiar sight of the old, warm stucco and terracotta tiles greeting me like an old friend. The house hadn't changed much over the years, and neither had my family. Inside, I knew my mother was probably already in the kitchen, preparing the spread for tonight's dinner, while my father was either watching TV or sitting outside on the porch. My siblings? That was another story.

I took a deep breath, grabbed the containers of extra food I had made at the bakery for dessert, and headed inside.

"¡Mija!" my mother's voice greeted me the second I stepped through the door. She was at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. The smells of chiles, tomatoes, and cilantro hit me immediately—familiar and comforting.

"Hey, mamá." I leaned over to kiss her cheek, careful not to disrupt her cooking.

"Are those the pan dulces you made?" she asked, glancing at the containers in my arms with approval.

I nodded, setting them on the counter. "Yeah, I made conchas and a couple of churros too. Figured we'd mix it up."

She gave me an appreciative nod but then frowned as if something was missing. "Your brother and sisters are late, as usual," she muttered, shaking her head.

"They'll be here," I assured her, though even I had my doubts, I pulled my phone out and began texting all of them. Family dinners had become more of a chore than a cherished tradition for my older siblings in recent years. It felt like every time we gathered, there was some kind of tension or underlying argument that hadn't quite been resolved. My dad hadn't exactly taken too well that none of them wanted to take over the family businesses. I was the only one who really pushed for it anymore.

I stepped out of the kitchen and found my dad sitting on the couch, watching a soccer game. His face was as stern as ever, a permanent scowl etched into his features.

"Hola, papá," I greeted him, leaning down to give him a hug.

He grunted in response, barely acknowledging me as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. My father wasn't one for words, especially when it came to feelings. That was how he and my siblings had clashed so much over the years—they all wanted to be heard, but he didn't believe in listening.

It wasn't long before the front door swung open, and my brother, Alejandro, walked in, followed closely by my two older sisters, Brenda and Camila. As usual, they were late.

"Look who finally decided to show up," I teased, trying to keep things light.

"Traffic," Brenda said with a shrug, dropping her purse on the chair as she headed straight for the kitchen. Camila barely looked at me, her usual tension with our parents already hanging in the air.

Alejandro, gave me a quick nod as he passed, and I forced a smile, already feeling the weight of what tonight's dinner might bring.

We gathered around the table, the familiar setting feeling both comforting and tense at the same time. My mother began serving pozole—and we all passed the dishes around without much chatter.

"So," Alejandro finally spoke up, glancing at my father across the table, "How's the shop?"

The dreaded question. I hate that he always has to bring it up. My father owned a small repair shop, one that Alejandro had worked in when we were younger, but had no interest in taking over. Neither did my sisters, despite my father's hope that one of them would step up.

"It's fine," my dad answered shortly, not looking up from his plate.

I could feel the tension brewing between them, the familiar unease settling over the table like a dark cloud. Alejandro wanted to talk, but my father didn't. They had this dance every time we gathered, and it never ended well.

"So, Camila," I interrupted, trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction. "How's work going?"

She shrugged, barely looking up from her food. "Fine."

Great, real talkative tonight.

I glanced at Brenda, hoping for something more upbeat. "And you? How's the new apartment?"

"It's fine," she said, her voice a bit sharper than it needed to be. "Smaller than I'd like, but it'll do."

I sighed inwardly. This was how it always was nowadays —short, clipped answers, as if none of us really wanted to be here. And yet, here we were, every week like clockwork, going through the motions. I had taken over the family bakery because I felt like someone needed to stay behind, someone had to carry on the tradition, but it was hard not to feel like I had been left to carry the weight of it all while everyone else moved on with their lives.

"You know," I said, trying once again to inject some life into the conversation, "the bakery's been doing really well lately. I've been thinking of expanding a bit, maybe adding some new pastries to the menu."

"Pastries?" My dad finally looked up, his brows furrowed. "You should stick to what's worked for decades."

Here we go.

"It's just an idea, Papá," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "It could bring in more customers, new ones."

"There's no need for that," he grumbled. "We've done fine without all these new ideas."

My siblings all looked down at their plates, avoiding the tension brewing between us. This was how it always went—I'd try to bring something new to the table, and my father would shoot it down. My siblings stayed silent, content to let me be the one who bore the brunt of his disapproval.

I loved my family—I really did—but sometimes it felt like I was the only one holding it all together. My siblings had distanced themselves from our parents, pursuing their own lives, while I stayed behind, managing the bakery and keeping the peace. It was a role I had fallen into, but one that was becoming increasingly taxing.

"I think it's a good idea," Alejandro said quietly, surprising me. "The bakery could use a little freshening up."

My father glared at him, clearly displeased that Alejandro had taken my side for once.

"You don't know anything about running a bakery," my dad snapped. "You don't even live near here anymore."

"Neither does anyone else," Alejandro shot back, his voice rising slightly. "But at least Dani's trying to do something with it. If you keep this up don't be surprised when she leaves too."

I cringed as the argument began to unfold, my heart sinking. This was exactly what I had been trying to avoid. The family dinner had turned into yet another battleground. I looked up to my brother and gave him a silent thank you. He nodded a you're welcome but he looked pissed.

My mother, ever the peacemaker, stepped in. "Enough, both of you. Let's just eat in peace, please."

The table fell into a heavy silence, the tension thick in the air. I stared down at my plate, picking at my food, wishing there was a way to break through this wall that had built up between all of us. But communication wasn't exactly our family's strong suit.

After a few more minutes of quiet, Camila glanced up at me. "You're still running the bakery on your own, huh?" I could almost hear a bit of guilt.

"Just doing my part," I nodded, grateful for the shift in conversation. "It's a lot, but I've got it handled. ."

"You always were the responsible one," she said, her voice carrying a mix of admiration and guilt.

I smiled, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Someone had to be."

Camila sighed, looking away, and I knew she felt the same guilt I did—the guilt of not being able to keep the family together, of not being able to fix the fractured relationships between us.

Dinner continued silent then we started clearing the table. My dad went to smoke a cigarette outside and my sisters and I helped my mom.

"I'm glad you stayed," Brenda said softly, surprising me with her sincerity. "Papá may not say it, but he's proud of you."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in mood. My sisters rarely spoke so openly about our family dynamics, and for a moment, I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Thanks," I said, my voice a little choked. "That means a lot."

"Thanks for coming, mija," my mom said, hugging me tightly. "You're the glue that keeps us together, you know that?"

I smiled softly, returning her hug. "I know, mamá. I just wish it didn't feel so hard sometimes."

She pulled back, giving me a knowing look. "Family is never easy. But you're doing your best, and that's all we can ask for."

As I left the house and climbed into my car, I couldn't shake the feeling of being both connected to and burdened by my family. I loved them deeply, but the responsibility of keeping us all together felt like it was resting squarely on my shoulders. And sometimes, I wasn't sure how much longer I could carry it.

I had dreams too. I wanted to go to NYU and become a teacher. I wanted to travel around teaching in different places and changing lives but no one asked me what I wanted. I just saw my parents struggling and no one helped them. What hurts me the most is even if my siblings had a vendetta against my dad why couldn't they help me? I'm not even going to go there. I'll just make myself upset again.

—— The warm spray of the shower was exactly what I needed to wake up. The night before had been a whirlwind of emotions as usual. I don't know how much longer my siblings will show up.

After drying off, I wrapped myself in a towel, heading back into the bedroom to pull on some clothes for the day. That's when I heard the faint buzz of my apartment intercom. I frowned, glancing at the time. It was early, and I wasn't expecting anyone. Still, I padded over to the small screen by the door and pressed the button.

"Hello?"

"It's me," Steve's voice crackled through the intercom, deep and steady.

I blinked, taken aback for a second. "Steve?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding casual, like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to show up unannounced. "I'm downstairs. Hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."

I glanced down at myself—still in a towel and damp from the shower. "Uh, give me two minutes," I said, laughing softly. "I'll buzz you in."

I rushed back to the bedroom, pulling on a pair of athletic shorts and a simple t-shirt, my heart beating a little faster than normal. Why was Steve here? I hadn't expected to see him so soon, and definitely not at my apartment. But there was something exciting about it, too—this feeling of unpredictability that came with Steve.

I rushed to my door, opening the door to find him standing there with a coffee in hand. He looked as put together as ever, jeans and a tight grey shirt, his signature casual charm hard to miss.

"Hey," I said, leaning against the doorframe, trying to catch my breath. "What's this? A surprise morning visit?"

He gave me a boyish grin, lifting the coffee cup. "Thought you might need this. I know you've probably got a busy day."

I smiled, stepping aside to let him in. "You know, most people don't just show up at someone's place without warning."

"Wanted to keep you on your toes," he said with a playful shrug as he walked in, glancing around.

I watched as he took in the space, his eyes wandering over the exposed brick walls, the open kitchen, and the shelves lined with cookbooks and framed pictures. I could see the curiosity in his gaze, but he was polite enough not to say anything just yet.

"This place is amazing," he finally said, turning back to me. "It feels like you."

I laughed lightly. "I hope that's a good thing."

"It is," he assured me, moving closer. "You've got great taste."

I tried not to blush at the compliment, my hands fiddling with the edge of the counter. "Thanks. I like it here. It's... cozy."

Steve's eyes shifted to the photos on the walls—family photos of my parents, my siblings, a few candid shots of me as a kid. I could see the moment when he locked onto one picture in particular, a black-and-white photo of my dad when he was younger, standing in front of his repair shop.

"Is that your dad?" Steve asked, nodding toward the picture.

I felt a tightness in my chest as the conversation turned toward my family. "Yeah," I said quietly. "That's him."

Steve looked at me, sensing the hesitation in my voice. "You're close? I couldn't really make a distinctive decision at the bakery. It felt both hot and cold."

I hesitated, my fingers tracing the edge of the counter as I thought about how to answer. "We are... but it's complicated. He's a strict guy."

"Did you always want to take over the bakery?" Steve asked, his tone gentle.

I nodded, lying a bit letting out a small sigh. "Yeah. My siblings moved away, started their own lives. I stayed behind. I didn't really have much of a choice. Somebody had to keep the family together, the bakery had survived too much to one day die with my parents."

Steve watched me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "That sounds like a lot to take on."

"It is," I admitted, finally letting some of the weight show. "But I love my family, and I love baking. It's just... sometimes I wish things were easier...different, you know?"

He nodded, stepping a little closer, his presence somehow both comforting and grounding. "I get that. Family can be... complicated. But you seem like the kind of person who handles it with grace."

I smiled, appreciating his understanding. "Thanks. It's not always easy, but I try."

He looked around my loft, taking it in again. "I like this place. It's got personality."

I raised an eyebrow, not missing the way his eyes again, lingered on the family photos that lined the walls. He seemed genuinely curious, like he wanted to know more, but I could feel the familiar tug of reluctance inside me. My family was a complicated topic, and I wasn't sure how much more I was ready to share.

Still, I could see the question forming in his mind as he stopped by a framed picture of me with my siblings. "Are these the siblings in question?"

I nodded, stepping closer to look at the picture with him. "Yeah. That's us. My older sisters and brother."

Steve studied the photo for a moment. "Do you get along with them despite everything?"

I let out a soft sigh. "We were when we were young. We try to be amicable now especially with my sisters. It's... complicated."

Steve nodded, leaning on the counter across from me. "I get that. Family can be a lot sometimes. But it sounds like you've done a great job keeping things together."

I smiled softly, appreciating his words. "I do my best.

Steve's gaze softened, and for a moment, I felt like he really understood. Like he saw through the layers of responsibility I carried. It was a little disarming, but also... comforting.

"So, how about we make this morning even better?" I said, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm going to cook us some breakfast. You ready to have your taste buds blown away?"

He grinned. "I'm always ready for that."

I moved around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make chilaquiles, a traditional Mexican breakfast dish. Steve watched with genuine interest, asking questions about the different ingredients and spices I used. It was easy, comfortable—the way we interacted. It felt like we'd known each other for a lot longer than just a couple of days.

"So," I said as I chopped some onions, "do you always just show up at people's houses with coffee, or am I special?"

Steve chuckled, leaning against the island. "You're definitely special. I don't do this for just anyone."

I shot him a teasing glance. "Good to know."

As I moved around the kitchen, the smell of sautéing onions and frying eggs filled the air. Steve's curiosity got the better of him, and he eventually joined me by the stove, offering to help with little tasks like stirring the sauce or flipping the tortillas. He tried flipping one and immediately burned his finger.

"How about you stir the sauce." I said giving him an ice cube to put on his finger.

"This smells amazing," he said, inhaling deeply. "I think I could get used to this."

"Careful," I teased. "You might never want to leave."

"I could think of worse things," he said with a wink.

I laughed, shaking my head as I plated the food. We sat down at the table in the corner of the kitchen, digging into the chilaquiles. Steve took his first bite, and his eyes widened in delight.

"Okay, you weren't kidding," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is incredible."

I smiled, feeling a little proud. "Told you. I don't mess around in the kitchen."

He nodded, taking another bite. "I'm beginning to think you're secretly a superhero in disguise. First the bakery, now this..."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, right. If I were a superhero, my superpower would be perfecting the perfect pie crust."

Steve chuckled, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes again as he set his fork down. "You don't talk about your family much."

I hesitated for a moment, my fingers tracing the edge of my plate. "It's not that it's just... complicated."

He gave me a gentle look. "I'm not trying to pry, Dani. Just trying to get to know you better."

I let out a small sigh, realizing that I didn't mind talking to Steve. He was easy to talk to, and for some reason, I felt like I could trust him.

"My dad's a strict guy, serial cheater in his younger days, but my mom grew up without a dad so she endured it all so that we wouldn't grow up without one," I said after a moment. "Old-school Mexican values. He wanted all of us to stay close to home and live the life he and my mom did. My siblings took flight the moment they could. Alejandro went to trade school and runs a construction company. Brenda didn't go to college but took her trust fund and left immediately after graduating high school. Camila did stick around longer helping where she could but my father never acknowledged that. Always finding something to pick at, always something telling us how to do it "better" it got too much for her so she left too." I explained. I felt a knot in my throat begin to form. This is why I don't like talking about it. "I don't blame them but I was the youngest so I couldn't leave. By the time I realized I wanted to leave too it was too late. The bakery was failing. I had been accepted to NYU but changed my mind and went to culinary school because the thought of losing the place I grew up in was killing me." I took a pause suddenly getting emotional.

Steve listened intently, his gaze never leaving mine. "That's a lot of responsibility." He put his hand over mine in a comforting gesture. I tried to smile but it was  hard. My glossy eyes closed and I fought back tears.

"It is," I admitted. "But it's what I had to do."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You made the sacrifice."

"I love them. I stayed because while they saw the bakery as the place where dad was always yelling and stressed. I can still hear Camila and I playing store giggling and having fun. I still remember Alejandro laughing at me when he was teaching me how to make change. I remember Brenda and I learning how to bake."

Steve smiled, and for a moment, I felt a warmth spread through me. It was nice, talking to someone who didn't judge or push too hard. Someone who just... listened.

"Well," he said, setting his fork down and leaning back in his chair, "if you ever need a break from all that, I'm happy to be your distraction."

I laughed, feeling a little lighter. "I might take you up on that."

Steve's eyes sparkled as he gave me a playful grin. "Good. Because I plan on sticking around."

[jackiequick]

Since every day and everything has felt this right / Marvel OC

A/N: I did say I wanna do Lana next, didn't I? Who’s else guys haha

Click here to see the one played by Colin

Angles Castillo Hill 🗒️

Name: Angela Genevieve Castillo Hill

Alias/Nicknames: Angles, Angie, Gigi, Lina

Age: 32-37 years old 

Birthday: July 16th

Height: 5'5"

Appearance: Angela has short dark brown hair, light tan skin, and striking eyes that seem to light up when she smiles. She exudes confidence and style, often seen wearing business casual attire with a touch of edginess, such as leather jackets, heeled boots, and statement accessories. She favors neutral colors like browns, grays, blacks, dark reds, and navy blues.

Personality: Angela is charismatic, compassionate, adventurous, cautious, and determined. She possesses a sharp wit and a dry sense of humor, using laughter as a coping mechanism during tough times. Despite her cautious nature, Angela can be impulsive under pressure, sometimes throwing caution to the wind and acting on instinct. Her eyes are her most powerful asset, often speaking volumes even when she remains silent.

Background:

Born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Angela's parents were living there for a short while, but she was actually born and raised in the United States.

Her father was Latino, and her mother was Dutch. Despite her international upbringing, Angela spent the majority of her formative years in the United States, where her family eventually settled.

Angela is the younger cousin of Maria Hill, a high-ranking agent within S.H.I.E.L.D. Despite their differing personalities, Angela and Maria share a strong familial bond, characterized by affection, rivalry, and camaraderie.

Angela's dynamic with Maria involves playful banter and occasional disagreements, but underneath it all, there's a deep-seated bond and mutual respect. Their contrasting personalities often lead to humorous exchanges, with Angela teasing Maria about being too bossy and Maria rolling her eyes at Angela's impulsiveness.

As she grew older, Angela found herself drawn to the world of espionage and covert operations. Inspired by the tales of daring agents and heroic deeds, she set her sights on joining the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D., a prestigious organization known for its dedication to protecting the world from various threats.

After years of rigorous training and preparation, Angela achieved her goal and became a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, specializing in intelligence gathering and undercover missions. Her natural charisma and sharp wit quickly earned her the respect of her peers, while her unwavering determination and courage set her apart as a rising star within the organization.

However, Angela's journey has not been without its challenges. Along the way, she has faced betrayal, manipulation, and moments of self-doubt, each obstacle serving to test her resolve and strengthen her character. Yet through it all, she has remained steadfast in her commitment to serving the greater good, determined to make a difference in a world teetering on the brink of chaos.

As Angela continues to navigate the complexities of her profession and the ever-shifting landscape of international intrigue, one thing remains certain: her unwavering dedication to the principles of justice, integrity, and compassion will guide her every step of the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skills:

Hand-to-hand combat: Angela is proficient in various martial arts techniques and is skilled in close-quarters combat.

Marksmanship: Angela is an expert marksman, proficient in the use of firearms and ranged weapons.

Espionage: Angela is adept at gathering intelligence, infiltration, and undercover operations.

Hobbies/Interests:

Travel: Angela loves exploring new places and experiencing different cultures.

Reading: Angela is an avid reader, with a particular fondness for mystery novels and thrillers.

Cooking: Angela enjoys experimenting in the kitchen and is especially skilled at making lasagna, a dish she learned to cook from her Dutch mother.

~~~~~~

Motherly: Despite her adventurous nature, Angela possesses a nurturing side, especially towards younger or less experienced members of her team. Her protective instincts and caring demeanor make her a natural mentor figure, providing guidance and support to those who need it most. However, she can be sharp and take risks to push them into seeing their weaknesses and strengths, a trait she inherited from her cousin Maria Hill.

Having grown up with an interesting family dynamic, she believes everyone deserves a helping hand and to be taken care of, even if it means bandaging up a wound, having someone to listen, or a shoulder to cry on. She will not hesitate to call the shots and order someone to clean up a wound or check up on another teammate, not caring if the person hesitates, she wants it done.

Dark Side:

Despite Angela's intelligence, fierceness, and compassion, she struggles with self-doubt and has a tendency to think poorly of herself.

She has been manipulated by others in the past, leading her to take actions and trust the wrong people based on false beliefs.

Angela has experienced mind control firsthand, being manipulated by antagonists to do their bidding and see a darker side of herself that she never knew existed.

On one occasion, she was affected by an element that temporarily gave her powers, leading her to unintentionally cause chaos and harm. This experience left her traumatized and wary of mind control, causing her to question her own abilities and morality.

Angela's vulnerability during such situations often leads her to lock herself behind closed doors, questioning how she could allow herself to be used for dark tasks and causing her to cry as she struggles with feelings of guilt and self-blame.

Dynamic with Maria Hill:

Angela shares a close familial bond with her cousin Maria Hill, a high-ranking agent within S.H.I.E.L.D.

Despite their differing personalities, Angela and Maria have a strong bond characterized by affection, rivalry, and camaraderie.

They often engage in playful banter and occasional disagreements, but underneath it all, there is a deep-seated bond and mutual respect between them.

Like Maria can be like, "I do not hate you, Angie. It's just, you kind of get on my nerves,  but I do like you around." 

Meanwhile Angela smiles and replies, "That's a start. I don't hate you either, but you're just kinda bossy."

~~~~~

Dating life: Angie is single but has gone on a couple of dates with men and women before. Typically, a friend sets her up with someone else because they know she is a homebody and would rather not leave her home. But she never really found out what she really wants in a partner because she doesn't know how to handle a relationship per say, however she is open to trying out a date or so.

Goals, Personal Challenges, and Aspirations:

Despite facing numerous personal challenges and grappling with self-doubt, Angela remains resilient and determined to forge her own path.

Initially uncertain about her career as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Angela contemplated changing careers within the organization, questioning her aspirations and place within the agency.

While her goal is to continue serving as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent whenever possible, Angela harbors a desire for something more. She originally dreamed of becoming a teacher, a profession she still holds in high regard.

Angela occasionally wonders how her cousin Maria perceives her, especially given the trouble she finds herself in at times. Despite these doubts, Angela recognizes that life is unpredictable and constantly changing, which motivates her to embrace new challenges and opportunities for growth.

Similar to Clint Barton, Angela enjoys her life and the unique position she holds within S.H.I.E.L.D., but she also yearns for a life beyond the organization. She dreams of exploring her hobbies of traveling, cooking, and acquiring new skills. She envisions living off the grid someday, immersing herself in nature and finding peace away from the chaos of the world.

Angela contemplates the idea of starting a family of her own one day, but she remains uncertain if she's ready for that level of commitment or if she can find the time to balance it with her career and personal aspirations.

Meaningful Objects and Symbolism:

Angela treasures two significant items: a 'C' necklace and a half moon bracelet, both of which were gifts she received during a small trip to Latin America when she was 12 years old. These items hold sentimental value for her, serving as reminders of cherished memories from her childhood and connections to her cultural heritage.

Additionally, Angela has adorned herself with tattoos that hold personal symbolism and meaning. Each tattoo represents significant moments or experiences from her past, serving as a visual reminder of the challenges she has overcome and the person she has become as a result.

Quirks and Habits:

Angela has several unique quirks and habits that set her apart. When feeling anxious, she often chips her nail polish absentmindedly, a telltale sign of her inner turmoil.

During meetings or situations where she's required to stay in one place for an extended period, Angela copes by rubbing her thumb and middle finger together, a subtle but effective way to manage her restlessness.

When annoyed or only half paying attention, Angela has a tendency to hold back a roll of her eyes or respond with a nonchalant hum, conveying her frustration without outright confrontation.

While listening intently to someone, Angela frequently furrows her eyebrows and cutely pouts her lips, a subtle yet endearing expression that reflects her focused attention and thoughtful demeanor.

Relationships with Other Marvel Characters:

Over the months and short term years, Angela has had numerous encounters with members of the Avengers, including Steve Rogers (Captain America), Tony Stark (Iron Man), and Thor. These interactions have exposed her to different perspectives and ideologies, shaping her understanding of the world and her role within it.

Angela made her first appearance in Iron Man 2, where she assisted in shadowing Black Widow while the redhead was undercover as Tony Stark's assistant. This experience introduced her to the world of high-stakes espionage and collaboration with iconic heroes.

She later appeared in Thor (2011) as one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stationed in New Mexico during Thor's arrival on Earth. Her involvement in this mission further solidified her role within the organization and her interactions with Asgardian beings.

Angela has also crossed paths with the Young Avengers and future S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, who have challenged her own values and beliefs. These encounters have forced her to confront her own ideals and reconsider her place in the world, as she navigates the complexities of heroism and duty.

Each interaction with these Marvel characters has provided Angela with new insights and perspectives on topics of interest, broadening her horizons and shaping her identity as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and as an individual.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Okay that's what I got! Like always, I might add more later on to her character but this is the product we have now. 🗂️ Tell me what do you think about her in the comments below!

Remember to, like, share and reblog for more! 🖇️ Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @rooster-84 @djs8891 @starkleila @cherrysft @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @topgun-imagines @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @nakiaswg @carellmcu @ximehs @sofia-falcon @savemewattpad and etc

[snatchdsiren]

Update on the ankle: I can put pressure on it now! My fatass ain’t running anywhere anytime soon but at least I’m not hopping around on one leg anywhere! So we call this progress 🙌🏽 Here’s a mini weekend photo dump to call it a night from me 😌

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

It's time y'all.

Let's talk about HOBIE & RACE

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would display black solidarity by finding black women in specific attractive.

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would possibly like a partner who could understand his experiences with racism.

- It is not problematic to say he would possibly like a partner who understands how to take care of his hair, or shares the same hair texture.

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would find beauty in features specific to the black race - when we have been told those features are undesirable in every way for centuries.

We gotta talk about how Colorblindness is forced on Black Characters - Hobie in Specific

Y'all - it's time we have a VERY VERY overdue conversation about Hobie Brown and Race.

Because it is a necessary one.

Hobie Brown, The Black!Reader, & Representation -

aka Black people are not Colorblind - and neither is Hobie Brown -

[let Diane hop on the mic right quick Chile]

Stop acting like Black Fictional Characters would be colorblind.

Black people can't be colorblind, because our color is weaponized against us from birth. We HAVE to see race - because we have to protect ourselves and know our own history

So when we decide to make spaces specifically for us - spaces where black people and black women in specific can be desired and uplifted, I don't see why people have a problem with it.

Hobie Brown loves, yes. But he also lives in 1978. Racial segregation was outlawed in his country in 1965.

Hobie Brown loves, but he's also a black guy who grew up under racial segregation and racism. He's a black guy who fights cops.

The Writers made Spiderpunk - The Spiderperson who fights oppressive cops - black for a REASON.

The Writers chose to have a black guy save Miles for a REASON. To uplift black people.

Writers here on Tumblr made Black!Readers black for same reason.

If Black Lives Matter doesn't mean White Lives Don't Matter -

Then 'Hobie Brown finds black chicks especially attractive' DOESN'T mean 'white women are unattractive'. This isn't about y'all.

And even for the people that say Hobie would like ONLY black people - okay??? They can say that - it's a literal headcanon.

It's not true if you don't want it to be. You don't have to believe it.

But seeing Black people be protective of a black character, and making black content for other black fans - and then saying 'what - stop that. that's wrong. break this up so I can join'

BEFORE you question why they do it - NOT COOL.

That's like asking for more Captain America in Black Panther. Like ?????

That's like hearing a Riot Grrrl say 'All the women to the front!!' and going 'Uhh, all genders are equal, why can't the men stand in the front too?'

Like yes, all genders are equal. But also - This isn't about them. It's about representation.

Stop preaching equality when we're asking for representation.

Cause there are dozens, hundreds, of white characters who only have white on-screen romances.

And their fandoms do not write black!readers. They do not care enough to say 'oh the show isn't representing this, let us do it.'

The media nor the fandom represent black women. They are an afterthought, always.

And you never see posts for them like -

'Dean Winchester loves black women. Dean Winchester loves latinas -'

When it's a white character only dating white women, with xReaders that always imply whiteness, y'all never call for diversity. At all.

You wouldn't make this post for Miguel.

But when it's a black character and someone suggests they only date black women, or people begin to write xReaders that imply blackness instead of your default-

Suddenly you care about diversity.

Because the first time, you're not represented.

Because let's be honest. Let's be real. No one is writing Hobie x White!Reader. Barely anyone is writing Hobie x Latina!Reader.

It's the Black!Reader you have a problem with. Let's just say it.

Allow black people to have their space, without unfairly calling for 'diversity'.

(aka the right to access to black safe spaces, comfort characters, and labor)

Hobie is an attractive, educated black guy who fights and protects people from the aggressors we ourselves genuinely fear everyday.

He is a character like we've never had before. He has so much emotional weight to us.

Let us enjoy him as we please. We aren't hurting anyone else.

We're just not catering to you. We don't have to.

If a black person wants to center Hobie's love on Black people, they have the right.

And I'm not saying you can't write him with a race neutral or even a White!Reader. Go ahead and write that if you want but just know-

1) If you want to write him with an explicitly white or non-black reader - you should approach the topic of race. You should approach and mention the cultural differences. Him going through racism. Don't erase that because you think it makes your writing ugly or sad.

And if you don't put it in, your erasing the reality and black experience because you find something wrong or uncomfortable about it.

2) If you want to write a race neutral reader - make sure they're really race neutral. Don't include details about hair texture, hairstyle, or skin color.

3) If you are asking black writers for requests - do not get mad if they make the request Black.

You cannot get mad at a black writer for interjecting their own experience when writing about a black character. You're basically asking them to strip their blackness from their writing so you can enjoy it more.

Why should they have to second guess and dial back their blackness when we're expected to do that everywhere? If they want to take a break, and write Black!Readers they can.

3) Understand that the black people are going to keep their safe spaces. And they're going to keep Hobie in their corner.

Because honestly, and I'm going to put this brazenly:

Hobie Brown as a character - and what he represents - means more to black fans than it does nonblack fans.

Does that mean he doesn't matter to y'all? No, not at all. Hobie absolutely holds real emotional weight and meaning to you on multiple levels.

But please understand, for black people - we connect to Hobie on an emotional, often trauma-fueled front.

One that you'll never understand.

There is a level that we connect with him on that nonblack people can't. As a dark skinned black guy, a black guy with natural hair, an alt black guy,

As a black guy who has canonically faced police brutality on-screen

To you, this screenshot is most likely Hobie flipping the camera off, edgy and punk. It's funny, tongue in check. ACAB and all that.

To us, this screenshot is of Hobie - a low income black guy - being physically restrained by police and refusing to stop even when they're taking his mugshot. It's a black guy openly flipping off the police and fighting them off and refusing to go down no matter how much they beat him and he's winning YES

After so many videos over SO many years of cops doing that to black men and them.. not winning.

And them just dying and us having to watch. And add another name to list.

When you see his laces, you most likely think ACAB.

When we see his laces, we see that he's a black man who took on a cop and lived to tell the tale. Which is a RARITY.

Because many of them lose the battle.

For us, the context and connection are completely different.

Fanfiction may just be a way for you to kiss up on random characters or comfort yourself, but for us - that's not the case.

For us, fanfiction is a way to show our experiences and features in a media and world that has collectively ignored them. Shunned them, called them ugly.

Maybe make a post or send an ask to a creator - and ask what Black!Readers mean for them, why they find it important.

Hobie Brown likes Black Girls.

He finds them beautiful. He likes wide lips and broad noses and kinky hair. He loves melanin, and brown skin in the sunlight, and seeing a them in a silk bonnet in the morning.

He loves not having to explain his culture, sharing coconut oil and shea butter. He likes seeing waist beads. He likes people who speak AAVE, with twang in their talk.

He likes ghetto black girls with the acrylic nails. He likes Stallions 6 foot tall. He likes masc girls. And fem ones. He loves black nonbinary people because we do not have to cosign to colonialist ideas of gender. And he loves him some black men too - a good fade will make him go crazy, he loves men with long locs and pretty smiles.

Hobie Brown finds the beauty in Black People that have been erased and demonized again and again by White Society.

Hobie Brown holds blackness dear. And he wants black people to do well.

Hobie Brown loves Black People. Hobie Brown loves Black Girls.

And that's on, what?

This has been a PSA from Diane Pastors. Y'all stay blessed out there 😌💗

Anyway what y'all wearing to carnival since we going to carnival and cropover and labor day with Hobie and bringing out all the flags. 🇧🇧🇧🇧 I'm bringing him to cropover in Barbados yeah I said it we're all going to carnival with him.

[adrienneleclerc]

We’re Just Friends

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: In this, we will see the friendship between Walter and Y/N and Walter’s first act of protectiveness; let’s face it, it wasn’t his first time punching a man because of Y/N

A/N: If y’all have seen Gilmore Girls, Walter and Y/N will be like Luke and Lorelai in the way that they hang out outside of work. If y’all haven’t, Luke/Walter is known for being grumpy in his place of work and in general. BUT he lets Lorelai/YN who is basically a ray of sunshine on caffeine get away with EVERYTHING. Lorelai/YN call Luke/Walter if they need to rant or need something fixed, they have a good friendship, very “you came, you called”

Ever since Walter gave Y/N apology cookies, they were closer, they got to know each other. They even started hanging out at friends outside of work which was rare for Walter.

Walter and Y/N could be seen at the mall, shopping for Faye because Walter is clueless about what to get her. They were walking down the aisles at Barnes and Noble.

“How do you not know what to get your daughter, Don Refri?” Y/N asked him.

“I thought that name was for the district.” Walter said.

“That name is for everywhere, Don Refri. Seriously, how do you not know?” Y/N stopped walking and stood in front of him.

“I know what my daughter likes, the only problem is that I don’t know if Angie and her new husband have already bought it for her.” Walter said, looking down at Y/N (I'm 5'3 and a half, yes, my doctor counts the half inch, but Henry is 6'1 so he's pretty tall, whatever height you are, he will still be looking down at you)

“Yeah, divorce makes it harder. I’m Just guessing, my parents are still together.” Y/N said with a smile. (If they are divorced, ignore that last sentence) “How about a funko pop, does she like Marvel?" Y/N said, holding up a Captain America funko pop that was on the shelf.

"I think she is more of a DC fan." Walter said, poking the Superman funko pop on the shelf.

They could even be seen at Y/N's apartment drinking coffee.

"Thanks again for fixing my lock, it was driving me crazy.” Y/N said, giving Walter a pan dulce to drink with his coffee.

“Yeah of course, wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe in the neighborhood.” Walter said.

“Still, you could have come tomorrow but you came tonight, so I appreciate it.” Y/N said.

“It’s a 5 minute drive, you’re close by. What is this, by the way?” Walter asked

“It’s pan dulce, there’s a little Mexican bakery that i like to go to, really good, I gave you a concha.” Y/N said, also taking a bite out of her concha. Walter have it a taste.

“You’re right, it’s really good.” Walter said. They kept talking until Walter finished his coffee and they said goodbye.

The next day, Walter came into the police department with a thermos in hand and an paper bag in the other. He walked over to Y/N’s cubicle and knocked on her desk.

“Good morning, Don Refri, how are you today?” Y/N asked.

“Good morning to you too, Y/N, I’m good, and you?” Walter replied.

“Im good, what’s in the bag?” Y/N asked, she was curious to know what’s inside.

“I went to the coffee shop this morning and got you something. It might not be as good as the pan Dulce from your Mexican bakery, but this coffee shop is Latina owned.” Walter said and Y/N opened the paper bag and saw manteconchas and polvorones.

“Oh my gosh, they look so good, they smell good too, gracias Don Refri, ya te estás calentando.” Y/N said, giving him a hug. Walter hugged back and went to his office while Rachel turned to Y/N with a smirk on her face.

“Walter brought you Mexican pastries? How nice of him, looks like you might be his favorite.” Rachel said.

“Maybe it’s because I’m new, I’m sure the novelty will wear off.” Y/N said.

“Maybe, maybe not. Who knows.” Rachel said, going downstairs.

A week later, Y/N entered the department and it was all chaos, she walked over to Glasgow to see if he could tell her what’s going on.

“Why is everyone acting like my mom when Luis Miguel announced his tour?” Y/N asked.

“Detective Marshall finally found a lead to the guy who’s been trafficking teenaged girls. We got his license plate and planted a tracking device on his van so Walter asked me to see where the van stops and that’ll be this guy’s hide out,” Glasgow explained. A few minutes later, “I found him! He’s in an All Inc Warehouse!”

“Let’s get a move on, we’re finally gonna get this son of a bitch.” Walter said as he grabbed his gun and out on his vest to leave with the other officers.

“What does he mean by ‘finally’? Has this been a tough case?” Y/N said, finally being able to sit at her desk.

“Detective grumpy has been working on this case for a month. It’s been driving him crazy knowing that the guy was still out there.” Rachel said, walking in, sipping her coffee.

“Then I’m glad he’s finally catching him.” Y/N said.

An hour later, Walter walked into the district with the guy in handcuffs. Walter takes him downstairs to put him in a holding cell. He walked back upstairs.

“Y/N, i need to fill out a report, come with me please.” Walter said and Y/N followed him.

“Congratulations on the arrest, Don Refri. How does it feel?” Y/N asked.

“It feels good. How was the Mexican bread?” Walter asked.

“The polvorones we’re really good and the manteconcha was delicious. I saved you a polvorón because you have to try it. Where did you get them?” Y/N asked.

“I got it at Abogados Café.” Walter said. “What does that mean, by the way?”

“Lawyers coffee. Do they have Cuban coffee?” Y/N asked.

“I Don’t know, we can check it some other day.” Walter said.

Hours later, Walter and Y/N were finishing their paper work.

“Hey Don Refri, how do you feel about going to a bar tonight? You don’t have to drink, but I think it’ll be fun. We could celebrate that you finally solved that case! Rachel told me you’ve been working on that shit for a month.” Y/N said as she put on her jacket.

“I Don’t know about that, Y/N.” Walter said.

“Oh come on, it’s not like I’m asking you to get drunk. Let’s just go to a bar, you can play pool with the guys, I can eat some fries. We could go to Brunson’s Pub! Or Skinner’s or Iron Ranger, I don’t care, I just want a night out and I really don’t feel like cooking.” Y/N practically begged Walter as she was holding onto his biceps.

“Fine, fine, we’ll go to Brunson’s, they have more food there, I’ll tell the guys, you can tell Rachel. Group celebration.” Walter said and Y/N was happy. She texted Rachel about going to the pub and Rachel was down.

“Rachel said she’ll be there, what about Matthew and Glasgow?” Y/N said.

“Yeah, they’re coming too. You want me to drive you?” Walter said.

“And leave my car here?” Y/N asked.

“I’ll drive you to work tomorrow, it’ll be fine. This way you can drink as much as you want.” Walter said.

“Jaja, mira que funny eres.” Y/N said. They walked out of the department and got into Walter’s car. Walter put on a random playlist on Spotify. Y/N was looking out the window when she heard a familiar song, “Oh my gosh, I haven’t heard this song in forever. I love ‘colgando en tus manos’, my mom would play it in the house all the time.”

“Yeah, I found a playlist with Spanish songs, thought it would be good, maybe help with my Spanish with us being friends and all.” Walter said.

“You Don’t even know what Carlos Baute is singing right now.” Y/N commented.

“It doesn’t matter, you like this kind of music, right?” Walter asked.

“It reminds me of my life in Miami, before Latin music went mainstream.” Y/N said. They kept talking and listening to music until Walter parked in the parking lot at Brunson’s. They walked in together.

“Hey, look who made it! Detective Grumpy and his sunshine partner.” Matthew said.

“Hey, we’re not at work right now but I’m still your boss, watch it. How much have you had to drink?” Walter asked.

“He had 3 tequila shots.” Glasgow said.

“How did he get here?” Walter asked.

“I took an Uber.” Matthew said.

“Same.” Rachel and Glasgow said.

“Great, well I gotta stay sober because I have to take Y/N home. What do you want to drink?” Walter asked, turning to Y/N.

“I want a ‘bad hombre’ and you should get yourself a beer, we’re celebrating you, you should be able to let loose.” Y/N said.

“All right, I’ll go to the bar.” Walter said and Y/N slid into the booth. Walter came back with a beer, a “bad hombre” which has reposado and mezcal, and an Italian sandwich for Y/N. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, Don refri.” Y/N said. They were all talking and laughing, having a good time but Walter stepped away. “Damn, I’m running low, I’m gonna see of i Can get a beer, be right back.” Y/N said and walked to the bar when bumped into a tall man. “Oh I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good. Wait a minute, Y/N?” The man said and Y/N looked up to see a familiar face.

“No way, Mitch, how are you? What are you doing here in Minnesota?” Y/N asked as she hugged Mitch (Dylan O’Brien) a friend she made back in Virginia.

“My brother Steven wanted to go skiing. You want me to order you a beer?” Mitch asked.

“Yeah, get me a modelo.” Y/N said and Mitch told the bartender to get him two modelo beers. “Well, how’s the CIA treating you?”

“The CIA is fine. Listen, I’m sorry to hear that the FBI didn’t work out for you but maybe you can come back to Virginia and become part of the CIA.” Mitch said.

“I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can cut out as a CIA agent.” Y/N said. They kept talking and Walter got out of the bathroom to see Y/N talking to Mitch. He went back to his booth.

“Who’s that guy?” Walter asked.

“I Don’t know but he’s cute.” Rachel said. Walter went closer to hear their conversation.

“You’d do great. I swear, I would love to work with you.” Mitch said.

“Mitch, honestly, stop insisting, I’m not doing it.” Y/N said. All Walter heard was Y/N telling Mitch “no” so Walter got closer and..

“Didn’t you hear her? She said no.” And Walter decked Mitch, Mitch landing in the floor. Y/N got out of her stool.

“Walter! What did you do?” Y/N asked, facing Walter.

“Wasn’t he bothering you?” Walter asked.

“No! Walter this is Mitch, my friend who’s in the CIA. Mitch, this is Walter.” Y/N said as she helped Mitch off the floor.

“He’s your boyfriend or something?” Mitch asked.

“No, we’re just friends.” Y/N said and Walter walked outside the bar, he needed fresh air. “And he’s technically my boss at the police department. He’s a detective.”

“Well He’s quite protective of you. I should give you my number so we could hang out next time I’m in Minnesota.” Mitch said,

“That would be great.” Y/N said and they exchanged numbers. “It was great seeing you, I gotta talk to Walter.” Y/N walked outside and saw Walter leaning against his car. “What the hell was that in there?”

“Sorry, Y/N, I thought he was just a random drunk harassing you. I didn’t know he was a friend of yours.” Walter admitted.

“You could have asked. Just don’t do it again, okay.” Y/N said,

“I won’t. Are you sure you’re all right? He didn’t try anything?” Walter asked,

“Nah, Mitch is a good guy, he wanted me to ‘try out’ for the CIA but I told him no. Thanks for being protective though, I appreciate it.” Y/N said and she hugged him. “Can we go back inside? I’m kinda cold and this skirt isn’t helping.” Y/N said and Walter chuckled.

“Yeah, we can go back inside.” Walter said, leading her into the pub with his hand on the small of her back.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! i just guessed about the Latina owned coffee shop but then I was looking up coffee shops in Saint Paul and that’s when I found Abogados Café! I looked up the bars and the warehouses because I like my fanfics to be accurate when I’m writing about a state I don’t know anything about. Also, super sorry about the late “update”, I’m finishing up the fall semester and i have so much work to do but I’m procrastinating so…that’s gonna bite me in the ass when the time comes. Comment if you want to be added to the tag list

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @warriormirkwood @secretdream2

[duckprintspress]

October 2024 Created Works Round-Up!

Duck Prints Press’s monthly “created works round-ups” are our opportunity to spotlight some of the amazing work that people working with us have done that ISN’T linked to their work with Duck Prints Press. We include fanworks, outside publications, and anything else that creators feel like sharing with y’all. Inclusion is voluntary and includes anything that they decided “hey, I want to put this on the created work’s round-up!”

Check out what they’ve shared with us this month…

-

Estudo sobre Magia e Cristais - Ace Week Art by May Barros / @mayarab

art || original work || poly (multiple genders) || general audiences || no major warnings apply || complete

summary: Piece depicting the three main characters of the short story Estudos sobre Magia e Cristais by May Barros: Marcela is a white latina necromancer, Solis is a pale fairy with pink hair and wings and Talita is a black princess. The three are taking a stroll in a forest.

TUMBLR - LINK

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Came Back Wrong by May Barros / @mayarab

fiction || original work || no ships || teen & up || graphic depictions of violence || 762 || ongoing series

summary: A flash fiction where Vanessa is revived by a supernatural force, but she is no longer the woman she used to be

LINK

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A Long Winter Podfic (remastered) by Shannon / shannonxl / @shamwowxl

audio || captain america || m/m, f/m || steve rogers / bucky barnes and steve rogers / peggy carter || mature || creator choses not to use warnings || 04:00:00 || complete

summary: Podfic of A Long Winter by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFears.

In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore.

In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter.

In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

YOUTUBE

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It has been 0 days since River’s last cock-up by ShannonXL

fiction || slow horses || f/m || river cartwright/louisa guy || explicit || no major warnings apply || 5,841 || complete

summary: River gets dosed with an aphrodisiac on an assignment. Because of course that’s the kind of thing he would do.

other tags: Sex pollen

​-

held within the sharp and curving by corduroyserpent / @corduroyserpent

fiction || the scum villain's self-saving system || m/m || gongyi xiao/zhuzhi-lang || mature || no major warnings apply || 5,077 || complete

summary: The former snake-man of Bai Lu Forest watched Gongyi Xiao writhe and shudder and cry, and eventually go still.

It was a pitiful end, but it was not *the* end. Because, many years later, the former snake-man of Bai Lu Forest also watched Gongyi Xiao wake up.

other tags: Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy

TUMBLR - AO3 - TWITTER - LINK

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unwarranted tenderness by corduroyserpent / @corduroyserpent

fiction || heaven official's blessing || m/m || jun wu/mei nianqing || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 606 || complete

summary: Jun Wu wakes up after his post-defeat nap. He is not alone.

other tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Main Story Spoilers

TUMBLR - AO3 - TWITTER - LINK

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Secret Lives, Chapter 9 by EliotQueliot / @eliotqueliot

fiction || the magicians (lev grossman, syfy) || m/m || quentin coldwater/eliot waugh || mature || creator choses not to use warnings || 9,870 || work in progress

summary: Secret Lives started as a Duck Prints Press May Trope Mayhem piece...an AU in which Eliot and Quentin are supervillains/superheroes (you decide...and at some point, they're going to have to). Eliot works primarily with ghosts in this fic, and I wanted to post some Queliot to enjoy for the Halloween season, so a haunting seemed quite appropriate…

other tags: Superheroes; Supervillains; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Past Child Abuse; Canonical Child Abuse; Bullying; Heroes; Brakebills (The Magicians); Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Ghosts; Homophobia; Murder; Canon-Typical Violence; True Love; Haunted Houses

TUMBLR - AO3

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you want it darker? || dark king eliot, Chapter 5: Eliot by EliotQueliot / @eliotqueliot

fiction || the magicians (lev grossman, syfy) || m/m || quentin coldwater/eliot waugh || explicit || creator choses not to use warnings || 19,652 || work in progress

summary: With Josh's help, Eliot gets to work collecting ingredients to bring Q back, including a visit to the Kitchen Witch.

An ambush by the Takers leads to an unsavory encounter with the Dark King.

(Warnings for Dark King Rupert Chatwin’s unwanted behavior toward Eliot in this chapter.)

other tags: Grief/Mourning; Canonical Character Death; Canon-Typical Violence; Soulmates; Underworld; Resurrection; Dark Fantasy; Margo Hanson is a Good Friend; Julia Wicker is a Good Friend; Quentin Coldwater Lives; Depression; References to Depression; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Fillory (The Magicians); Goddess Julia Wicker; Fix-It; Suicidal Thoughts; Afterlife; Ghosts; Souls; True Love; Angst with a Happy Ending

TUMBLR - AO3 - TWITTER

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Mosaic Haiku Ch. 14 poems, Ch. 4 paintings, Ch. 1-3 drawings by EliotQueliot / @eliotqueliot

poems, watercolor paintings, and drawings || the magicians (lev grossman, syfy) || m/m || quentin coldwater/eliot waugh || general audiences || no major warnings apply || ongoing series

summary: Mosaic Haiku is a project very dear to my heart, pairing haiku with watercolors and drawings celebrating the lifetime of love that proved the key to saving all magic, shared by Eliot and Quentin at the Mosaic in The Magicians 3x05, A Life in the Day. I've added an all-new Ch. 14 (photos with the haiku on Tumblr; art to be added to the haiku on AO3 later); two new watercolor paintings for Ch. 4; and I found/reinstated some version of the drawings for Ch. 1-3 (I hadn't yet started scanning the drawings separately for those, so quality varies). Going forward, the drawings will remain visible instead of simply being replaced by the watercolor versions. So far, the art is fully complete for Ch. 1-3 and in-progress for Ch. 4 & 6. This month I'm especially pleased with the two paintings of Quentin and Eliot in their golden years (see one of the Tumblr links and the Instagram link).

other tags: Haiku; Poetry; Mosaic; Beauty Of All Life; Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day; Mosaic Timeline (The Magicians: A Life in the Day)

TUMBLR - AO3 - INSTAGRAM - TWITTER - LINK

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Daisy and the Devil by Scarlett Gale / @scarlettgauthor

fiction || original work || no ships, platonic or familial || general audiences || no major warnings apply || 9,554 || complete

summary: A playful fairy-tale retelling of The Girl without Hands that gives the girl in question (Daisy) a name, actual agency, female role models, and a happy ending.

LINK

​

[delulu-hours]

It's gonna be okay [1]

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Latina!reader

Summary: You and Bucky cross paths through some turn of events, but he keeps you hidden instead of killing you off like he was assigned. There was something about you that he couldn't bring himself to end, so he took you somewhere you would be safe. Slowly, you learn more about each other and rely on one another before realizing it. All you know is that everything will be okay.

Warning: Talk about Bucky's past and trauma.

A/n: It is going to start during the Captain America Winter Soldier and going through until The Falcon and The Winter Soldier. You guys can best bet that there will be some fluff as I want to have a happy ending for my baby. He's been through so much and he needs it.

You should have known better.

A small groan left your lips as you held your side. The warm blood oozed out as the sound of shooting echoed. You have one bullet left in your semi-automatic pistol. Your heartbeat drummed within your ears as you rested your head on the car door. You pressed yourself back further into the car as you scanned the sides of you. You didn't know how you got dragged into this. One second, you were at home; the next thing you knew, SHIELD agents were storming into your apartment. Guns aimed at you, and you knew something was very wrong. 

And now you were getting shot at as you ran away from them. Unprepared for it all. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before you move your feet under you. If you could do it, you could exit if you dashed around this building. You had been around this block before, so there would be an alleyway where you could take a fire escape stairs up. You placed your gun in your pants waist before you took off. Keeping your head low and hand over your wound as you ran, you didn't stop for anything. It was your life on the line, and you're sure hell aren't risking it. The bullets flew past you, and you managed to avoid them as you turned the corner. Yelling reached your ears, and you raced up the fire escape. The adrenaline rushed through your veins, and the blood kept seeping out. You did lose your footing here and there due to the blood loss, but you kept pushing forward. That was until you were on the roof and safe.

Or so you thought. 

You were body-slammed into the ground. A groan left your lips as the wind was knocked out of you. You tried to blink the black and gray dots that invaded your vision as you gasped for air. Your lungs begged for it as the weight on your chest prevented you from taking enough air in. You felt the pain from the gunshot wound plus the pain from being knocked down onto your back. When your vision cleared, you looked at the assailants on top of you. The man's hands wrapped around your neck, and your hands automatically grabbed his wrist. You looked him in the eye as you tried to fight him off. His long black hair fell into his face, but you could see his icy blue eyes. Void of any emotions, he stared at you blankly. His fingers tightened around your neck, and you felt it— the cool sensation as you took in his metal arm.

This was it. 

This was how you were going to die. Your grip loosened around his wrist as you felt all the will to fight back slip away. Your gasping became shorter as you tried to take your last breaths, hands falling to the side where his legs around you were. The sky was clear as you looked past your attacker. The sun shone up high, yet the heat wasn't bad. Your vision soon began to lose focus.

This was it.

Before everything went black and you slipped away, those icy blue eyes of your assailant were the last thing you saw. One last breath and everything went black. 

It was over.

No more looking over your shoulder.

No more living in fear.

You were free.

Safe in the darkness of death.

★★★★★

A creaking noise caused you to open your eyes, confused. You had thought you died, but here you were, lying in some run-down-looking room. A small light lit the entire room as you slowly pushed yourself up. Pain shot through your left side as you placed a hand over it. Your eyes were on the person sitting in front of the bed, very close to the wall. You took him in and knew it was your assailant. The mask he wore covered half his face, and his icy blue eyes watched. It was as if they were taking in your every movement. The light reflected on the mental arm he had on his left side as arms rested in his lap. "Who are you?" Your voice cracked, and you felt the tenderness in your throat. You didn't even realize how raw it felt until you swallowed. He didn't respond as he got up and left, leaving you alone. You looked at your side and lifted your blood-stained shirt as you took in the wraps around your torso. It was safe to say this man was the one who stitched you up. The dull, aching pain from your side itched a bit. Then you felt it. Eyes watching you as you snapped your head up and locked your gaze on him. He took four strides and stood close to the foot of the bed. He had a cup of water in his hands as he held it out for you. You started it, weighing your options. A defeated sigh left your lips as you took it. You didn't need to question his intentions at this point; after all, you wouldn't be able to escape him. This man overpowered you in many ways that you knew you didn't stand a chance. You brought the cup to your lips and drank the water, hoping that if he poisoned you, it would kill you quickly.

As the cool liquid coated your throat, you couldn't help but let out a stifled moan. It felt amazing and soothed the rawness. You drank it all and placed the cup in your lap once you were done. "Thank you." Your voice sounded better than before. The man didn't acknowledge you, only taking the cup and leaving you alone. You watched him until he was out of view before your eyes drifted around the room. It was abandoned; you could tell by how quiet it had been and how the walls lacked their vibrancy. The bed squeezed at any slight movement, and the wooden floors let out a small groan. You still hadn't understood why you were alone. Playing with your hands, you closed your eyes. "Might as well count my blessings." You had felt tired, and you know it was from earlier events. After a few minutes, you lay back down and get as comfortable as possible. 

It didn't look like you would be leaving anytime soon, so you figured you'd try to enjoy whatever time you had left. A small sigh left your lips. You hadn't ever imagined being placed in this situation.

Scratch that.

You had, but with trying to run away from your past, you thought you'd never had to. 

"Huir de tus problemas es una carrera que nunca ganarás. (Running away from your problems is a race you'll never win)"

The voice echoed in your ears. 

"Por mucho que lo intentes no podrás huir de ti mismo. (No matter how hard you try, you can't run away from yourself)" 

You closed your eyes again, pushing the voices back and falling asleep. You didn't want to overthink or recall your past. You just wanted to live a normal life.

★★★★★

A couple of weeks have passed. You hadn't bothered looking for a way out, even when your mystery assailant left you alone for hours. You are sitting on the old, worn-out couch with a book and a blanket over your lap. As you flipped to the next page of Fahrenheit 451, you didn't bother glancing up when you heard the door open. By the soft steps, you knew who it was. "Welcome back." You paused at the end of the paragraph, looking at the man who stared at you. He had a neutral look as he placed some bags down. You took in that he had stopped covering his face with his mask, allowing you to see more of his face. You didn't let yourself be bothered by his unresponsive attitude, as he barely even spoke to you. Sometimes, he would speak in languages you didn't understand. Other times, he would say a few words in English or Spanish. But most of the time, he just watched you, and it felt like most of the time he was studying you. Trying to understand you.

You never really knew why, but you slowly noticed that he seemed less guarded around you. The icy blue eyes seemed less cold and more curious and interested. You didn't feel like you had to be careful around him, as if you were walking on broken glass. He walked over to you, and you noticed the first aid kit in his hands as you marked your spot in the book before placing it down. He sat next to you, and you pulled your shirt up, exposing the wound that had been healing reasonably well. He went to work, cleaning and rewrapping it as you watched him. His fingers worked gently as he focused on the task. The strands of his hair got in his face, and you couldn't help it as you moved it behind his ear. He froze at the contact, and you quickly pulled back, mumbling sorry in Spanish. He glanced up at you, and you held his gaze. You felt the way your heart picked up its pace and the way your breath got caught in your throat. You had to admit to yourself that he was attractive. Something about those blue eyes contrasted nicely with his dark brown hair, which drew you in. The more you kept looking at him, the more you felt a pull. You cleared your throat and looked away, mind racing with thoughts as you felt him finish up what he was doing. You bit your cheek as you waited until he was done. When he began to put the things away, you quickly got up— pulling the blanket with you as you rushed to the room and closed the door behind you. 

You rested your back on the door as you slid down it. Your head falls forward as you let out a deep breath. One that you hadn't realized you were holding. You gave yourself time to calm down before you pushed yourself up and crawled into bed. You pulled the blanket over you as you closed your eyes and tried to lull yourself to sleep. You didn't want to think about it. You were scared to come to terms with the attraction you were feeling for the man because that meant if you were feeling something for him, it would hurt you. 

"Los sentimientos te debilitan. Ellos te maten. (Feelings make you weak They get you killed)"

Your father's voice rang in your head. His training burned into your mind as he forced you to learn that those emotions got your brother killed. It is what made your mother die. Her love for you killed her, as she didn't survive childbirth. 

"En el momento en que te permitas amar y cuidar es el momento en que morirás. (The moment you allow yourself to love and care is the moment you will die)"

★★★★★

Two and half months passed, and you were amazed he was still keeping you alive. There would be days when he would return, and something felt off about him. It was as if he felt colder and less friendly, but he never once harmed you. "What's your name?" You finally dared to ask. The curiosity to learn more about him has finally gotten the better side of you. 

"Name?" He tilted his head to the side a bit. You placed the book down and looked at him, shifting your body so you could face him. He had been sitting on the other end of the couch, his hand playing with the knife as he had watched you. "Winter Soldier." The man had heard others call him that, so he assumed that was what you meant; however, he was confused when you shook your head. "Prisoner 56898." He tried again.

"Oh, corazón, (sweetheart)" You felt a wave of sadness wash over you. "Those aren't names." You said softly, understanding why it seemed like this man watched you with interest half this time. He had been treated as a prisoner to the point that he didn't know his name. He just gave you a confused look but nodded. You smiled at him, trying to push away the sadness as you grabbed his hand. "How about this," You gently rubbed your thumb on the back of his hand. "I'll refer to you as corazón, if you're fine with that." He looked down at your hands over his before looking back up at you and gave you a slight nod. "Perfecto. (perfect)" You said softly as you moved your hand back. The moment he felt the loss of contact with you, he was quick to grab a hold of your hand in his. The action caught you off guard, along with the strength he put behind it, as you fell into him a bit. The knife fell to the ground with a small thud. You used your free hand to catch yourself as it was over his chest, and your face was inches from his. Your breath hitched as you looked at him to see him staring at you. His eyes scanned your face, and you could see the internal conflict in those beautiful icy blue eyes. The conflict that felt like the same one you were having before all the signals telling you to move seemed to fade, and you moved in slowly. He didn't move, not even when your lips touched his delicately. You didn't want to force anything upon him, so you pulled back a bit, trying to see his reaction. His icy blue eyes burned into you, and you felt his hand move to your neck as he pulled you back into his. When he felt his lips connect with yours, your eyes fluttered close as he kissed you. There was so much need in the kiss. You pulled yourself closer to him, moving your hands up his chest. You could feel his metal hand hovered over your back, almost scared to touch you with it. You pulled back from the kiss and placed your forehead on his. "It's okay." You whispered, letting him know that you trust him. That you knew he wasn't going to hurt you. "Estará bien. (it's gonna okay)" You could see the slight fear in his eyes before he gently placed his hand on your waist. You didn't move, wanting him to see it was okay. 

You gave him a soft kiss on his cheek before you hugged him. His arms slowly wrapped around his torso as he was gentle with you. His face was buried into your neck, and you could feel his stubble that was growing tickle the skin of your neck. You guys stayed like that for a bit, only moving to adjust yourselves to get comfortable in the hug. He didn't bother moving away, even when you began to run your fingers through his hair. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest; if he heard it, he didn't say anything about it. And just like that, with his warm embrace, you felt yourself slowly relax and drift off into sleep.

[xxduncandonutxx]

Idolo always rubbed me the wrong way for a list of reasons, although what didn't help was the previous 2 redesigns of Angel (not the recent one, that's fine) have a strong resemblance to Jeffrey Starr.

Thank you. Now I can't unsee it--

I'm pretty sure the old redesign's design is a coindence or maybe it was made before everything came out about Jeff. Or (hopefully) maybe Idol didn't know what this guy did, I mean, I didn't know who Jeffree star is or what Jeff did until I was watching a youtube vid and the youtuber brought him up.

BUT if Idol did know what he did and went on to redesign Angel to look like them, then that's pretty weird... I have nothing against Idol wanting to redesign Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss characters but UHHH maybe don't take inspiration from creeps??? /srs

I can kinda see now why Idol decided to redesign Angel dust again, just so he doesn't get flak for having a redesign that use to reassemble Jeffree Star.

So, if anyone ask them about the old redesign, he could just delete it and claim that "I never redesigned Angel Dust to look like that guy!!1!!" which will be useless since people already repost the old redesign on Tumblr and such. /gen. I do like their new take on Angel Dust though, but my issue is the waist line, which kinda reminds me of how RCart drew Trans Captain America.. /nbr

Personally, if I were to redesign IdoloMantises' redesign, I would've made Angel Dust a bit chubbier, maybe like "pear thicc" and make the spider abdomen a bit bigger.

Another gripe I have with Idol's redesign is what he did to Vaggie, Cherry and Beezlebub, they completely removed Vaggie's hook nose which a trait that Latinas sometimes have and it shows that Vaggie is Latina (and I'm pretty sure that it's canon too). /nbr

Now, I ain't gonna call Idol out and call them "racist" for removing it since, I don't wanna be seen as someone with a white savior (or was it black savior???) complex since I'm not POC, I'm a white Australian. If you are Latina or someone of color, I'll let you decide /gen

[aranaboricua]

Spiderverse RIO MORALES penned by Jasmine

EST 2023 🕷️ BETA EDITOR 🕷️. LOW ACTIVITY. 🕷️. PROMO

Name: Rio Morales. Age: 42. Height: 5"7 Nationality: Puerto Rican

Skills: Mix martial arts, medicine and medical technician

In Earth- 1897, Rio Morales was a first responder in Brooklyn who tried to heal people from a bioengineering building that exploded from a scientific experiment. A radioactive spider that was one of the subjects bit her and it gave her abnormal aracnid powers. Since then, she lived as Brookyn's Spider-Woman. Her husband Jefferson's first mission as Captain was to capture the Prowler, but he was killed in the process. Years as a childless widow, Rio moved back to Puerto Rico as a community leader. But in secret, she lives as the San Juan hero as Spider-Woman.

Warning: This blog contains Marvel spoilers and mature content. It also contains images of spiders and flashing.

My version of Rio is Afro-Latina, used OG Jessica Drew for her Spider-Woman outfit. I only accept raceswapped muses who's stories are not connected to their race. So no white versions of characters of color just as white Miles Morales.

Multiverse:��I am up to date with comics (mainly Earth 1610 and 616). I have verses for Spiderverse, 90s Spiderman, DC Superhero Girls, JL8, and Invincible

Relationships: My main ships with Rio are Jefferson and Miguel/spider 2099. Muse and mun must be of age, preferably characters age 30-50s. No pedophilia or incest. Some suggestive

I also accept other children of Rio aside Miles and Bille. Please have an about page.

WISHLIST

Spiderverse: Earth 1610 Miles Morales, 42! Miles, Rio Morales (any verse) Aaron Davis, Meow Morales, Gwen Stacy.

X-Men-97: All Xavier students, Hellfire Club, Genoisha mutants

DC: Characters from Justice League TAS, Superman TAS, My Adventures with Superman, JL8/Little League, DC Superhero Girls (2nd gen), and Reign of the Supermen

Invincible: Mark, Atom Eve, Rex Plode, Debbie, Nolan, Cecil, Donald, Allen, Bulletproof, Ursaal or Thragg's children.

Shipping: Jefferson Davis, Green Lantern (John Stewart or Hal Jordan), General Kreed, Thula, Wonder Woman, War Woman, Reed Richards, Captain America (Steve or Sam)

Mun is a 34-year-old freelance graphic designer with anxiety. So please be patient with me. My other RP blogs are @swordsxandxsakuras @irxnlegacy and @seafoamseashells.

© Art by Marvel & Disney

[winterpinetrees]

Exactly two people asked, but two people did ask! So here are my Villain Coded Kids.

These six characters are a small fraction of the marvel fan fiction that I dreamed up when I was 12 years old. I daydreamed about them constantly, and they carved a little hole into my brain so I could never stop thinking about them. It’s been over five years. These guys are often stereotypical, several names come from fantasynamegenerator.com, and they were invented alongside a self-insert mary sue who I cannot leave behind. That being said, I love them dearly. Who wants to meet them? If you don’t want to, simply do not read this post. This is entirely voluntary.

THE VILLAIN CODED KIDS!

In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, there is a shield base in the middle of Manhattan. It’s where Captain America wakes up from his 70 years in the ice. But I don’t think it’s ever seen again. In my mind, it holds offices and training rooms, but in 2018, it is also home to six villain coded teenagers.

You are going to meet these kids as they were on some afternoon in the fall of 2018. They’ve been a team for about a month. It has been six months since Iron Man and Black Widow died in the events of Avengers Endgame. Six months since half of the population was killed and then revived, six months that the other half of the population has spent slowly forgetting five years of memories from the lost time known in canon as The Blip. The Sokovia Accords are exactly as unmerciful as they are in canon. Any unauthorized superpowered activity can be punished by arrest without trial or parole, and the only difference between a friendly neighbor hero and a prisoner is whether or not the local police like them. The police did not like these six kids!

……………

Imagine a common room like what you’d find in any college dorm. There’s a couch, some chairs, and a television. Six kids are gathered doing whatever. The oldest are 16 and in 11th grade and the youngest is 13 and in 8th grade.

The too tall boy drawing Voltron fanart on his IPad is Zachary Jesper. He is a vessel for the reality stone, which grants him near infinite power at the cost of chronic pain. He also shares a body with the villain from Thor 2. The stone (also called the aether) is eating him alive. He has a little sister that he hadn’t seen since May, and religious trauma that he hasn’t unpacked. He’s been doing pretty well in class lately, but is working on a YouTube video at the moment. Zach has long dark hair and sickly pale skin, which makes him look a bit like Loki, the supervillain that he has a crush on.

And the blond girl reading Lord of the Flies for homework? Her name is Cyrene, although that’s not the first name she’s tried out since running away from her transphobic home two years ago. She has two powers. Telepathy, and the ability to summon blades and whips of cyan energy. Back during the blip, she ran a criminal syndicate and hunted any billionaire or politician who dared to exploit others. For the record, she did quite a bit of bad stuff herself. Cyrene has also read Lord of the Flies before. It’s not a particularly accurate depiction of how people behave (it was written as satire!). She remembers the blip well enough to know that.

The oldest person in the room is Sarah “Sol” Torres, but she won’t turn 17 for another few weeks. She’s afro-latina with loose curly hair and eyes that look more golden in the sun. That happens a lot, because her ability is to summon and control sunlight. Sol is used to being the responsible oldest sibling. She’s fed up that her only two options are heroic perfection, or rotting in jail. Why can’t she just be a teenager? Who is she supposed to avenge?

The US government in this world has a lot of crazy tech. There’s an east asian boy tinkering with some of it while sitting on the couch. His name is Daniel Asato, and you’ll never see him without a pair of gloves. It’s convenient that he likes engineering, because his power is the ability to manipulate metal. He’s mostly used it for crime though. He’s wearing gloves and long sleeves because they cover long, jagged scars on his limbs. They also let him avoid physical touch. Six years ago, when he was just shy of 8 years old, Daniel was trapped under a collapsed building during the Battle of New York. His parents died instantly, but his brother bled out in his arms. Daniel hasn’t wanted to hold anyone else since.

Given any group of teens, someone is always taking a nap. That person is probably Noah Griffin, an african-american girl with powers too strong and uncontrollable to really be used in combat. She can control the weather, specifically wind and cold. Noah is a tomboy at this point, with a short, masculine hairstyle. She’s also hoping to be a woman in STEM and does environmental work when she can. Noah has a bit of survivors guilt because she knows how difficult it must have been for Hawkeye to convince the shady government organizations to set her free. She’s worried about the upcoming winter. What if she freezes New York City?

Last, youngest, but certainly not least is Vicky Khol (whether that’s short for Victor or Victoria depends on the day, she’s gender-fluid in the same way as Alex Fierro in Magnus Chase. Blame my 12 year old self). She’s a suntanned country kid with dirty blond hair dyed red at the tips. Her ability is mind control and illusions, but they don’t work through cameras. She’s not even in high school yet, and SO EXCITED to be a famous hero. She’s a mischievous theater kid with a traumatic backstory that she tries not to mention.

By all rights, these six kids should be dead by now. Instead, they got a second chance and are making the most of it. They are under unbelievable pressure from outside and inside forces. The worst of it is from a second team of teenagers, who are hero coded and were never in any danger to begin with. They fight frequently. It’s a game to the heroes, but the villains are fighting for their lives. It all turns out okay though.

…………

If you actually read that, I am in your debt forever. Literally. I will grant you any reasonable favor. Please reach out so I can know who I should thank! This is a small fraction of the lore. I also have two other completely separate stories. My brain would drive Cyrene mad.

[phoenixlionme]

Marvel Latino Superheroes Part 1

1.  María Aracely Josefina Penalba de las Heras aka Hummingbird - Mexican born

2. Miles Morales aka Spider Man - biracial; half Puerto Rican and half black

3. Miguel Santos aka Living Lightning - Hispanic nationality unknown but is American born

4. Sam Alexander aka Nova - biracial; half Mexican and half white

5. Victor Alvarez aka Power Man - biracial; Afro-Dominican

6. Humberto Lopez aka Reptil - Mexican born

7. Roberta Mendez aka Captain America 2099 - Hispanic nationality unknown but is American born

8. Miguel O’Hara aka Spider Man 2099 - biracial; half Irish and half Mexican

9. Bonita Juarez aka Firebird - Chicana (Mexican American)

10. Robbie Reyes aka Ghost Rider - Chicano (Mexican American)

11.  Alejandra Jones aka Ghost Rider - Hispanic nationality unknown

12. Maya Lopez aka Echo - half Hispanic and half Cheyenne, the former nationality is unknown

13. Ajak aka The Legendary Inca Warrior - Peruvian born

14. Anya Corazon aka Arana - half Mexican and half Puerto Rican American

15. Gabriel Vargas aka Captain Universe - Chicano (Mexican American)

16. Gabriel Carlos Dantes Sepulveda aka Defensor - Argentinian born

17. Fabio Medina aka Egg (formerly known as Goldballs) - Hispanic nationality unknown but is American born

18.  America Chavez aka Miss America - biracial; Afro-Puerto Rican Caribbean

19.  Carmen Cruz aka Gimmick - biracial; Afro-Latina

20. Laura Kinney aka Wolverine - biracial; Afro-Latina and half white; her exact ethnicity is unknown but first appearance (in the animated X-Men: Evolution series) depicts her with dark skin and her “mother” had darker skintone with blonde hair. Her creators didn’t specify her ethnicity but I do think she’s Hispanic. And given the darker skintone of her “mother”, she’s most likely Afro-Latina. I know in recent comic adaptation portray her with way lighter skin tone but her ORIGINAL appearance shows her with DARKER skintone (thought not as dark as her “mother”). As such, I have seen Laura as half white and half Afro Latina but the Hispanic nationality is unknown. Also, as a side note, her creators also mentioned they planned to do a LGBT storyline with Laura but it was axed. So, she’s also LGBT.

21. Cecilia Reyes - Puerto Rican and depicted with dark-skinned complexion

22. Roberto da Costa aka Sunspot - biracial; Afro-Brazilian 

23. Armando Munoz aka Darwin - biracial; Afro-Latino; Hispanic nationality unknown

24. Julio Richter aka Rictor - Mexican born

25. Gloria Dolores Muñoz aka Risque - biracial; half Seminole and half Cuban American

26. Brian Cruz aka Tag - Puerto Rican

27. Angel Salvadore aka Tempest - biracial; Afro-Latina; Hispanic nationality unknown

28. Lucia Callasantos aka Thornn - Hispanic nationality unknown

29. Benito Serrano aka Toro - Cuban

30. Gabriel Cohuelo aka Velocidad - Mexican born

[mcu-binge]

Love in Brooklyn pt 7

It was barely six in the morning when I opened the bakery doors, the smell of fresh dough and cinnamon filling the air. The usual early risers trickled in for their morning coffee and pastries. It was peaceful, just like every other morning.

"Hey Dani, someone's asking for you," Julio my cashier said.

"Ugh, Julio I'm busy, who is it?" I asked a little agitated.

"Ven a ver." He said telling me to go look. I reluctantly stopped and walked out to the front while I wiped my hands on my apron "Hey, is this where I can find the best pastries in Brooklyn, or am I in the wrong place?"

The voice was smooth, casual—too smooth for one of my regulars.  Standing right in front of the counter, wearing sunglasses indoors and looking every bit as nonchalant as you'd expect, was Tony Stark.

Tony Stark.

For a second, I just stared at him, waiting for my brain to catch up with reality.

"I'm guessing from that look on your face that I found the right place," he said, lowering his sunglasses with a smirk.

I finally snapped out of it. "Uh—hi. Can I help you?"

Tony's grin widened. "I hope so. I've heard some good things about you, Dani."

The way he said my name made me wonder how exactly he knew it. I glanced around at the few customers in the bakery, who were starting to notice the sudden celebrity in their midst. They were whispering, pulling out their phones, sneaking glances over their coffee cups.

"I've been tasked with finding the perfect pastries for a little charity event I'm throwing next weekend. Pepper doesn't let me help with the big things anymore," Tony explained, leaning casually against the counter. "And word on the street is, you're the best baker in town."

"Uh, I don't know about 'best,'" I said, trying to gather myself. "But I do have some good pastries. What kind of event is it?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "It's a small thing. Just some of the city's bigwigs and a couple of hundred guests. Nothing crazy."

I raised an eyebrow. "Sounds... small."

Tony chuckled. "Trust me, it'll be worth your time. We'll make sure everyone knows *exactly* where the desserts came from."

I hesitated for a moment, not sure what to say. Tony Stark, of all people, was asking me to cater his event. Sure, I'd gotten used to Steve being around, but Tony was on a whole different level. This wasn't just an Avengers thing—this was THE Avenger.

"Are you sure you want me to do it?" I asked, still a little stunned. "Manhattan must have—"

Tony leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter cutting me off. "Dani, if I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here. Plus, Steve speaks highly of you, and I trust his taste in more ways than one."

My heart swooned at the mention of Steve, but I tried to focus. "Okay," I said, finally regaining some composure. "I'd be happy to help. Just give me the details, and I'll make sure everything's ready for the event." I said handing him my business card.

"Perfect," Tony said, clapping his hands together. "We'll have my people send over the details. You'll be a hit. I can feel it."

Before I could respond, a crowd started to form at the door—more people noticing Tony's presence. One customer boldly stepped forward, asking Tony for a picture, which he graciously agreed to. And then, just like that, the bakery exploded into a frenzy.

"Guess I'm bringing you some business today," Tony said with a wink "I've got to head out. But Dani, seriously, thank you for agreeing to cater the event. It'll be worth your while."

I smiled. "Thanks for thinking of me. I'll make sure to knock it out of the park."

As Tony headed for the door, I couldn't help but shake my head. Of all the things I'd expected when I opened the bakery this morning, Tony Stark showing up wasn't one of them.

Just as he reached the door, he turned back and pointed at me. "And make sure you save some cinnamon rolls for me next time. I' heard they're worth the calories."

With that, he was gone, leaving the bakery buzzing with energy.

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur. After the morning rush sparked by Tony's visit, I barely had time to think. Customers kept coming in, asking if *that* was the bakery Tony Stark had visited, and I couldn't help but laugh at the excitement.

By the time I finally closed up shop that afternoon, I was exhausted but exhilarated. Tony's visit had brought in more business than I could have ever imagined, and I couldn't wait to start working on the catering for his event.

As I locked the bakery doors, I thought back to what Tony had said about Steve. *Steve speaks highly of you.* That stuck with me. It made me wonder just how much Steve had told Tony—or anyone—about me. But before I could dwell on it for too long, my phone buzzed.

**Steve: Heard you had a busy day. Need a hand with the catering prep?

I couldn't help but smile at his timing. I quickly typed back a response.

**Me:How'd you know about that? **Steve:I have my ways....

I laughed, shaking my head as I replied.

**Me:I think I've got it covered, but thanks. I'll let you know if I need a taste-tester. **Steve: Anytime.

As I made my way home, I couldn't help but feel like things were falling into place. Between the bakery, my growing connection with Steve, and now catering for one of Tony Stark's events, life was taking some exciting turns.

And, as overwhelming as it all was, I couldn't wait to see what happened next.

—— I stared at the email from Pepper for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. *Gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan options?* I thought catering for Tony's charity event would be a breeze. But this...this was something else.

I loved my traditional recipes—rich, buttery pastries with real ingredients. I wasn't used to all these dietary restrictions, and frankly, it was overwhelming. Still, I wanted to get it right. I pulled my hair into a messy bun, slipped on my apron, and dove into the kitchen. Time to experiment.

The first few batches were...disappointing. My almond flour cookies turned out grainy, and the vegan muffins tasted like cardboard. I sighed, tossing another failed attempt into the trash.

A knock at my door startled me.

"Just a second!" I called, wiping my hands on my apron. I wasn't expecting anyone, but when I swung the door open, there stood Steve, leaning casually against the doorframe with a warm smile.

"Thought you might need some help," he said, holding up a bag with a few groceries.

I blinked. "How did you know?"

He grinned. "Let's just say Tony and Pepper have a way of making sure I know when my friends might need backup."

"Backup? I'm drowning in almond flour over here."

He chuckled, stepping inside as I closed the door behind him. "I figured you could use a taste-tester. And maybe a little advice?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You have experience with gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan baking?"

Steve smirked. "Not exactly. But I'm good at following instructions. And I know a thing or two about perseverance."

"Well, in that case, welcome to my disaster of a kitchen."

"How did you get in?" I ask remembering I didn't buzz him in.

"I snuck in behind a pizza guy," he casually said with a mischievous smile.

I led him to the kitchen, which was covered in flour, baking sheets, and various bowls of half-finished mixtures. Steve looked around and gave a low whistle.

"You've been busy."

"Busy making terrible food," I muttered. "I'm not used to all these restrictions. I mean, gluten-free and dairy-free? What's left?"

Steve laughed, picking up one of the less burnt muffins and examining it. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Don't," I warned as he brought it to his mouth. "That one's disgusting."

He bit into it anyway. His face immediately crumpled, and I burst out laughing.

"Okay, you weren't kidding," he said, trying to swallow it without grimacing.

"Told you!" I leaned against the counter, watching him recover. "You sure you want to stick around for this?"

"Hey, I've faced worse things than a bad muffin," he teased, his eyes twinkling.

We got to work after that. Steve helped me measure out ingredients, taste-testing each new batch and giving surprisingly helpful feedback.

"These cookies could use a little more moisture," he said, handing me one of the almond flour versions. "Maybe some applesauce?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you an expert in substitutions?"

He shrugged. "I've had a lot of weird food over the years. You learn things."

I smiled, feeling more relaxed with him around. We bounced ideas back and forth, tweaking recipes here and there. It was fun—more fun than I'd expected. Every time Steve leaned over my shoulder to check on a batch in the oven or brushed past me to grab something off the counter, I felt my pulse quicken. He was getting closer, and I couldn't ignore the way my skin tingled every time he did.

At one point, I was mixing a new batch of vegan cookies when Steve came up behind me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body. He reached around to help me stir the bowl, his hands brushing against mine. My breath hitched, and for a second, I froze.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low. "You don't want to overmix it."

I swallowed, my heart pounding. "Right. Overmixing. Bad. Got it."

We stood like that for a moment, his hands lingering near mine before he stepped back, giving me space. The tension between us was electric, and I knew he felt it too.

"So," he said after a beat, leaning casually against the counter. "What's next?"

"Next, we...uh...try the dairy-free frosting," I stammered, trying to focus on the task at hand.

We worked side by side for the rest of the afternoon, testing and retesting the recipes. Steve was a natural at making the whole thing feel lighthearted, cracking jokes and teasing me every time I got frustrated.

"You know," he said at one point, wiping some flour off his shirt, "you're kind of cute when you're flustered."

I shot him a look. "Oh, don't start."

He grinned. "Just calling it like I see it."

It was impossible not to laugh around him. His sense of humor, his easygoing nature—it made everything feel less stressful, more fun. By the time we'd finished, I had a handful of solid recipes, and my kitchen was a complete mess.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you work this hard," I teased, leaning against the counter as we surveyed the wreckage.

Steve shot me a mock glare. "Hey, I've been putting in serious effort. I'm practically a pastry chef now."

"Oh yeah? Should I expect to see 'Captain America's Bakery' opening soon?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I think I'll leave the baking to you."

"Thank you," I said putting a hand over my heart for added drama earning a laugh from him.

As we cleaned up, Steve moved closer again, this time standing beside me as we washed the dishes. His arm brushed mine, and I felt that familiar spark again. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, noticing the way his gaze lingered on me, softer now, more intense.

"Dani," he said quietly, turning to face me. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been trying to spend more time with you."

My cheeks turned red at the way he said my name, so warm and familiar. "I've noticed," I said, meeting his gaze. "I've enjoyed every second."

"And I want to keep spending time with you. If that's something you'd be interested in."

His words hung in the air between us, the weight of them making my chest feel tight. For a moment, I wasn't sure what to say. I liked Steve—a lot maybe I was just afraid of how much I already felt for him.

"I..." I started, but the words got caught in my throat.

Steve didn't push, didn't pressure. He just smiled, that same gentle smile I'd come to love. "No rush. Just... think about it."

I nodded, my mind spinning. "I would love that Steve." I finally say. He looked relieved as the words left my mouth. There was no denying how I felt about him, how easy it was to be around him. And in that moment, standing there in my flour-covered kitchen, I knew I was already in too deep.

[l3m0ngal5]

Something I realized after a rewatch of battle for the beast world Kayla is literally Latina Captain America with a Sci-Fi twist

🤣🤣🤣🤣 OMG

[lemonadecabaret]

extremely late closed starter for @shieldedpatriot

"Easy there, Captain. I'm unarmed." Not necessarily the truth, but the blonde doubted he'd mind the weapons the Latina had in her arsenal. Lo's ample curves were on prominent display even as she raised her hands in mock surrender, the dress that she wore hugging her like a second skin. "You completed your orders, now I have mine." Take care of Cap, they'd told her. Make sure that he's happy, healthy and ready to keep fighting the good fight. Perhaps she was intending to go above and beyond the call of duty, but how could she offer anything less to America's hero?

"You look a little tense," she noted. "I'd like to help you with that."

[fandomfluffandfuck]

the more I read abt it the more I think the firing of Victoria Alonso is a bad sign, bc she wasn't just some uninvolved suit she was working on the movies from the beginning and approving all the final visuals, so hearing her as a gay Latina talking about trying to push for better representation and publicly criticizing Disney for funding the Don't Say Gay stuff is a bit chilling, along with reading the articles that she recently conflicted with marvel over refusing to blur out pride flags in the background of the newest antman & how they got mad at her for promoting an Argentinian historical film about a dictatorship in Argentina that the US sponsored during/as part of the Cold War.

feels like her firing wasn't just a lot of the mass cost-cutting going on rn, but also part of an american boy's club culture among others in power over there that was tired of her pushing for lgbt inclusion and doing projects that promoted not just non-American politics but specifically politics that questioned the US' 20th century legacy and its heavy revisionism upheld by America's history books & propagandized media. It's like the marvel brand pushing towards a uniform US-centrism that makes little room for minorities cultures or stories that can encroach against their American corporate politics too directly without being behind a bunch of opaque metaphors or being brushed away to the background or being overwritten by newer stories that do away with opportunities for representation or inclusion of other perspectives.

Ask #2:

I mean, look at the how marvel in paper and cinematic mediums treated the Winter Soldier Cap plotline. It had Steve and Bucky, 2 soldiers who served their country to fight Nazis in WW2 in an integrated transnational unit, both get dragged into the 21st century to find that the Captain America image has been turned into a propaganda tool by the government and the very same government hired and funded the Nazis they fought in WW2, who then turned Bucky into a mindcontrolled slave. That had the potential to have the most direct analogy and critique of the IRL USA, but then what happens in the fallout of that movie and how do the characters and world get affected by this revelation?

Nothing much, there's no lingering distrust in the government that funded this, even among characters who were directly affected. Characters with origins in the same Nazi organization get funny dances and memes or favorable adaptations. Even though Steve dropped the shield and Cap role, this hardly turns into a long term character development of him questioning the country he serves (as an Irish immigrant in the early 20th c who would've been other-ized already) instead Steve goes back to fighting for it under a notion of legacy and symbol and the shield is characterized as so so important to him. Bucky, the one most directly affected by the US hiring the Nazis who enslaved him, just ends up meekly serving the government itself and trying to abide by its criminal laws that deemed him a perpetrator even though reasonable minds, Steve, should be demanding reparations even if there's no hope of that actually happening. There's no reckoning to how both Bucky and Steve being treated as little else than supersoldier weapons by their own government. Instead, newer stories just focus on more ways they can serve it without ever questioning the very core of their inexplicable loyalty to an entity that took part of their exploitation, which could serve as a cathartic progression and consequence of the Winter Soldier plotline and create potential for fresher stories that deal with what if the former Cap characters said "enough of this BS," but instead marvel church's out more of the cap'n murrica: [insert name of IRL war the US has heavily propagandized the shit of and now uses for patriotic media marketing]

that really shows the limitations of what marvel does with their politics, the closest thing they got to accurate historical critique of a real life event (the Western Allies hiring Nazis post-WW2) also gave birth to the most popular take on the characters in both mediums, and yet none of it comes close to actually pushing the status quo in the fictional world or to progressing the characters into something that reflects their stances on the exploitation they underwent by "their own people." The characters involved ironically almost develop amnesia to the bombshells in the Winter Soldier plotline and regress into Generic Murrican Old White Guy #1 and #2 to serve as prop pieces within US-centric status quo stories ad infinitum

Ask #3:

to give a more specific example: marvel's newest Captain America event thing goes by "Cold War" and is about a secret shadow government that controls the entire world (gee, wonder what kind of far rightist repeats that kind of conspiracy theory) and they are also known as... The Revolution (really tossing aside all subtlety there!) and they're conveniently responsible for every bad thing the USA and its allies did for the past 200 years (way to completely render their best Cap story meaningless)

meanwhile, the IRL Cold War had the US fund fascist movements in Africa, Asia & LatAm (literally what the 1985 Argentinian film that marvel's execs got annoyed with is about) and said movements repressed grassroots movements constituted by people at the bottom of the political hierarchies there, not a secretly powerful group known as "The Revolution."

Their newest comics completely turn the "Cold War" on its head to appeal to the reactionary anxieties that America is secretly under attack by some secret shadow group, even when the IRL power dynamic was radically different. The WS stories were the closest they ever got to pulling away from regurgitating decades-old US propaganda, and it also happens to be the most popular and humanizing in fleshing out its characters into with actual emotion and connection. And yet the franchise can't help but revert back to their roots and invalidate that entire story just so they can repeatedly pumping out Murrican stories that'd make McCarthy look up and smile.

Sorry I didn't respond to this for a while, I wanted to make sure I had the time to sit down and read and appreciate what you had to say. And as far as I'm aware of Marvel stuff, I can safely say, unfortunately, I think you're right. Right on the money.

I don't think her firing was cutting costs or anything of the sort. If they could fire anyone... it seems very targeted to fire her, and it, sadly, doesn't surprise me 🙃

I hate it here.

Anyway, thank you for taking the time to write all this down because yes--you're so right, and I don't actually have much of anything to add because you explained it so well. You're being critical, and it's good. Recognizing what is happening is the first step to changing what is happening.

It's beyond shitty that huge corporations like Marvel can't be representative and diverse and kill so, so much of the actually interesting parts of their content in favor of saving face for more conservative views and people.