#there may be a fic soon

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Where It Hurts

Summary: Joaquin Torres x fe!Reader -> You won't let anyone else in your hospital room, with the exception of Joaquin.

Disclaimer: Some of the one-shots I have for Joaquin have been in my drafts for a while. Mentions of wounds and Joaquin helping you fix them, slightly established relationship. Not Proof Read.

“She won’t let anyone in with her.”

That’s what the Doctor had told them all as they waited in the hallway for you. From where Sam was standing, he could see the reflection of you sitting on the edge of one of the medical beds. 

He’d only gotten a quick look at you, but the damage seemed extensive enough to keep you out of field work for at least eight months. Six if you came back and stuck to desk work for a while. 

And one look was all it took for him to say, “Joaquin. You go.”

“Captain Wilson, sir-”

Sam turned back to the doctor. “All due respect, Doc. She needs him.”

“She’ll let me in,” Joaquin added. 

The Doctor studied the two Avengers in front of her. Looking around at the other five, they all seemed to have an agreeing look in their eyes. If it had been anyone else, she would have asked them to wait. But you’d refused most treatment. 

Thankfully, you had no internal bleeding or damage. You did have a fractured rib which she could give you medication for, but other than that, it was a matter of gluing and/or stitching up your external wounds. And she didn’t think the best course of action was to leave you alone at that moment. 

So she nodded. 

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Joaquin let out a breath of relief, immediately making his way towards your hospital room. 

Meanwhile, the doctor turned to Sam and the others, going through everything she had found and what would follow for the next few months. 

You heard the small whooshing noise of the door being pushed open and it took a lot out of you just to look up. You could have cried when you saw Joaquin, if you had any energy left to do so. 

He walked over to you, slowly, not wanting to scare you. You’d been through a lot in the last couple of days. Eventually, he stood in front of you, your eyes fixed on each other. 

He took in the injuries he could see. A tidal wave of bruises, multiple grazes and cuts, a lot of dried blood and what he could only guess had been a gash on your arm. 

You felt his fingers lightly brush some of your hair away from your face, the baby hairs being caked and dried in blood, sticking to your skin. 

You hissed at the pain a little and closed your eyes. 

“Sorry,” Joaquin apologised. Then he let his hands rest by his side. “Tell me where it hurts.”

You just pointed to different places. Without knowing, you’d given him the order he needed to fix and seal your cuts. 

Pulling up a medical table, he found all the supplies he needed already there. “This is gonna hurt, but I’m gonna be as gentle as I can, okay?”

You just nodded. “Okay.”

Joaquin gave you a final nod to assure you before he started on the first cut you had pointed to. He worked in silence, and you were thankful. There had been so much noise rattling through your ears for the past few hours alone, you found a sanctuary in the comfortable silence between yourself and Joaquin. 

Every now and again, a small hiss would leave your lips and he’d quietly apologised. Once he’d finished all the stitches you needed, he started gluing others shut, placing tape over the top to help it remain in place. 

The mission had been planned for almost eighteen months, and a few days ago, everything had been kicking itself up a gear until today. It had been a battle against illegal arms dealers and you’d found yourself stranded alone, the rest of your team racing around the place to either fight someone else, or get out of there whilst they still had the chance. 

Joaquin had, luckily, been with Sam when Sam had gotten a call from Bucky. You were being rushed into the compound for medical treatment. Bucky only got word because Peter had gotten an alert from Friday telling him your information and medical sheet had been rushed through the processor. 

Sam and Joaquin had rushed as quickly as they could towards the compound, leaving Sarah and her two boys at a pizza place Kate had constantly been recommending. 

By the time Sam and Joaquin had landed on the tarmac outside, you were being carted off the jet and into the compound. At the time, you’d been unconscious so when a nurse had come to check on everyone in the waiting room, in order to give an update, everyone was relieved to hear you’d be okay. 

Once Joaquin had finished with the smaller cuts, he moved over towards the sink and started to fill up a bowl with some warm water. Opening the bottom cabinet beside the bed, he reached inside for a clean washcloth, and then he was right back in front of you. 

He was careful as he manoeuvred your head from side to side, dabbing and wiping the dried blood from around your wounds and on your skin. 

“How’s your rib?” 

“Sore,” you answered, your throat dry. 

Laying the dirtied cloth into the bowl when he was finally finished cleaning you up, he walked across the room to the cold cabinet. Walking back over, you watched as he effortlessly cracked the inside packaging before shaking the contents around the bag. Once he had it wrapped in a separate fresh, and dry, washcloth, he stood in front of you again. 

“Can I?”

You just nodded, already lifting your shirt. He helped you, seeing the agony on your face. Letting your arms drop to your side, Joaquin pressed the ice pack to your side and after flinching, you settled into his touch. 

As his other hand rested and warmed the other side of your rib cage, you leaned your head forward, closed your eyes and finally relaxed. 

Joaquin pressed a kiss to your brow after a few moments as he removed his hand from under your shirt and ran his fingers over the length of your hair to move it from your neck to down your back. Meanwhile, he kept the ice pack in its place. 

“Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me, Angel. Not for something like this.” 

Looking up at him, his fingers continued to brush the hair from your face before you leaned up and he met you in the middle, placing a tender kiss on your lips. 

Rolling your lips as the kiss broke apart, you leaned your head against his chest one again, his lips pressing a light kiss to the back of your head as his fingers massage your scalp a little, easing the tension. 

 “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Joaquin could feel the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill forward in silence. 

He didn’t know if you had heard him, his voice having come out in a hushed tone. But the fist that clenched at the t-shirt he wore under his flannel told him otherwise. 

“So am I.”

[wandixx]

I've seen a lot of different takes on Fear Toxin/other fear causing stuff (Yellow Lanterns Ring or something)(later just called Fear Toxin cause I'm lazy) but here is another one.

Danny seems like he isn't affected by Fear Toxin because his biggest fear is that his accident changed him so much he is no longer human, he can no longer truly experience human things.

So when he gets lungful of fear Toxin, he feels normal. He was antsy before, because c'mon, it's a rogue attack but it's not worse. Or so he thought. Because the anxiety lingers. Not enough to register as abnormal just this slight hypervigilance that makes you see things about yourself and your surroundings that you'd never realize otherwise. He'd realize he doesn't blink as often. He'd realize that if he doesn't consciously focus, he sometimes seems to not touch the ground. Forgets to breathe. He can't feel his own pulse at time. He'd realize people will miss him when he's walking down the street as if he was invisible (people just don't care about everyone they pass by). When he'd look straight into his reflection, he'd look slightly to the left. Not enough to actually name anything that was wrong but just stretched enough to fall on the wrong side of the uncanny valley. If he just caught his reflection in the peripheral vision, it'd be vaguely shadowy creature with glowing green eyes and white smoke instead of hair. Overall he'd be just wrong enough to be distinctly not human.

For everyone else, he'd be just a dude. Literally couldn't find more normal dude than this dude. Will pass as absolutely normal human unless someone is specifically looking for ecto-ghost stuff. Even most magic users wouldn't clock him at the glance

Tldr: Fear Toxin makes Danny perceive himself as some sort of eldritch horror but not enough to make him believe he'd actually be affected, while from outside perspective he's Just A Dude™

[flockoff]

In a another world, Peak of Combat has a plot that involves Time Travel Shenanigans which puts V in one of the Funniest Situations.

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin the comparison of JL vs the Avengers to Camp Jupiter vs Camp Half blood is toooo accurate 😭

JL: There’s an established system in place and contingencies for every foreseeable scenario

Avengers: fuck it we ball

peter thinks that the Avengers have it all together because they're his teachers and they're constantly telling him to use his brain but it's really because they, for the first time, saw their own "fuck it we ball" mentality in a teenager, and thought "oh my god maybe that is like... super dangerous." like when a parent was younger and they partied a lot and sometimes got into dangerous situations and thought "this is normal" until they had a kid and they quickly realized "oh that's why my mom was insane."

that didn't make them any better, it just made them hypocrites. peter just doesn't know that because they act super responsible when he's around

[oh-no-its-bird]

On top of everything else that's happened in the last month or so

(girlfriend breaking up with me / me running off in the night w the friend I was supposed to be maid of honor with bc her (now ex) fiance came home drunk and scared us, while ofc we also both were in swimsuits and had like NO money or even shoes due to incredibly poor timing / Getting stuck in Dallas for TWO MONTHS longer than I meant to be due to bullshit work transfer systems (and admitedly my own inability to remember that deadlines exist) / that same friend going BACK to her shit boyfriend alone to a city 4 hours away from anyone she may call for help if things go wrong / me now no longer having a place in dallas to stay for these next 2 months bc I was SUPPOSED to stay with that friend but her bastard boyfriend doesn't want me in his house anymore bc he knows I'd tell his girlfriend to dump his ass)

I have now lost my fucking house keys.

Anyways I may or may not be way less active for a bit so this is the formal apology and explanation for that. Sorry guys, we are NOT going back to ur normally scheduled rapid fire ninja content as promised for like. A minute. Possibly. We'll see. Sometimes my own motivation wave surprises me.

Tbh it's my own fault for daring to become a fanfic author tbh. Should have known the "sorry I didn't update, my house burned down teehee <3" curse would come for my ass

[lieutgore]

matthew mcnulty having a shit day compilation (from see no evil: the moors murders)

[catharsis-in-a-bottle]

vetinari is fascinating because the patricianship really does not work with anyone else. like. it IS a seat of absolute power. he IS a tyrant. but he genuinely has the objective interest of the city at heart. he can hardly be self-serving as a leader because to him being self-serving means serving the city (insert that one post that theorized that vetinari was like the anthropomorphic personification of ankh-morpork, i can't remember who the op was). he's manipulative, he's an Assassin, he's purposely threatening and he has almost no true friends, AND he can also push the city in the right direction with such self-sacrificing directive that it shifts from the ankh-morpork of night watch to the better ankh-morpork of going postal (or the 'present' of night watch; idk, i think going postal is the latest version of AM i've read so far). in the hands of anyone with even a fraction of a percent more selfishness, the patricianship becomes a true tyranny. but because vetinari is such a weird bastard, what's broken starts to be fixed, rather than be built into something that consolidates his power. si non confectus, non reficiat, but also whatever the latin is for i'm on an altar for this monster of a city

[tectonicatomic]

Redesigning my Shamura!

[chocokano]

happy valentines day! cheers to horrifically self indulgent frsp

i may be cringe but god am i free

version without the border under the cut

[compress1repress]

procrastinating so here are some ramblings about sci-fi/horror tropes I would link the challengers trio with

art - I actually think art being a werewolf would be very thematically interesting to me, because he's all about repression and passivity I think it would be fun if every full moon he literally can't control himself so all his passivity is thrown out the window and he becomes a wretched aggressive beast and he would feel so much shame about it <3 also he would love to be self pitying over it too. he already walks around like ughhh im so doomed due to my curse #mycurse ... and so this would just exaggerate that (some of this stuff could work with a vampire thing and i know a lot of people talk about vampire art but I just think werewolf art would be more interesting even just visually, like his obsession with shaving takes on a whole new meaning. and also he's more about 'loyalty' than isolation I think. he's always latching on to someone).

patrick - ok this one is kind of obvious but patrick is SO haunted I can't help but make it literal. patrick + ghosts = yayyy <3 i just think he holds onto the past and has never in his life moved on, so that manifesting as him seeing an actual ghost (or ghosts) would be fun!! especially bc on the surface he's egotistical, selfish, self-centred etc but underneath he holds onto everything so tightly, and the guilt clings onto him, and he can't just shake it off, and the feelings won't go away and he is deeply (almost gothically) romantic in this sense. also thematically it's an interesting look at his flaws, his impulsiveness and sense that he can do whatever he wants bc nothing matters, whilst surrounded by these lingering reminders of pain that prove things do matter, and then he realises that in some ways the ghosts reflect himself!! just stuck in this miserable limbo with unfinished business, and without the tools to fix anything and move on. except he does have the tools but he still won't actually make any meaningful change (him seeing Tashi through the window in Atlanta and she's engaged now and Art is doing better than ever at tennis and Patrick is just stood there in the same outfit that Tashi last saw him in... he genuinely could've been a ghost at that point!!). i enjoy the ghosts as representing him BEING haunted yet also him DOING the haunting bc he has become a ghost himself essentially. he has to hurry up and DO something while he's still got life in him. change something (make the throuple happen yay)

tashi - ok she is why I made this post in the first place so it may be long but omggg Tashi and the clone/double/doppelganger trope would be sooooo interesting. I think identity is such an important theme with tashi, and also something she is very aware of. she knows she has to present in a certain way, and probably self-polices a lot, to the point where in some ways it does feel like there are two of her, the version she knows, and the version presented in society (shout out w.e.b du bois double consciousness), so to physically and literally manifest that in the form of a clone would be fascinating. also through a disability lens there is a certain sense that becoming disabled feels like having a new body, and (at least from my perspective) there can sometimes be an out of body type experience with that as you adjust to a different body physically, and a different self too (just to add, i am not saying this is necessarily negative either). so again tashi's link with versions of the self make the idea of a double sound so interesting. clone narratives often brings up the question of who is the 'real' version and who is the copy, or a fear of being replaced by a copy, which are all questions about the self and identity, what makes us ourselves, and which parts are the most important. I imagine tashi ruminates on this sort of thing quite often, especially post injury with the readjusting of her identity after that. how she has to create another version of herself essentially bc the sport she formed her identity around will no longer accommodate her. tennis won't change to fit her new shape (:/) so she must find a way to change her shape so that she can still participate somehow (creating another self = clone moment)... anyway I think a clone would be a point of anxiety and fear yet also could be very cathartic for her. the end.

[yukipri]

lmao of course now i try to update fic, and AO3 is down😂💀

Override chapter finally done with editing, it'll go up whenever the site's back🙃

AO3's status:

[dayas]

4 + klonnie, esp if in a TO rewrite! 💞

4 ⧽. kissing in the middle of an argument.

THIS IS SOOOO GAGGY EXACTLLYYY OMG

It’s been awhile since I’ve watched TO so bare with me 🙏🏽

—

New Orleans had become Bonnie Bennett’s home. The last time she’d considered a place home, her grandmother had been alive. It was a long time since then, but she finally felt like she found a place she truly belonged. Naturally, she was absolutely livid about being asked to leave.

“No! Klaus, I am not going anywhere.”

It was pure misfortune that Klaus Mikaelson remained unearthly beautiful even in the fits of rage he currently displayed.

“It’s not up for discussion, little witch.”

He hadn’t lost it, not yet, but she could see the anger burning brightly behind his dark blue eyes.

“The hell it isn’t! You know how important it is for me to be here. The witches, the coven, all of it. I can handle anything that comes my way.”

His laugh was harsh, sardonic.

“Really? Anything? Tell me, darling, can you handle armies of witches, vampires, and werewolves, all coming, ready to tear you limb from limb? Can you handle a relentless onslaught from them at all hours of the day and night, the manifestations of their hatred and hunger for power? Can you handle your so-called old friends returning and joining them, facing off against you because of where you align yourself now? Tell me, my dearest Bonnie, truly, can you handle it?”

“Yes I can!”

She didn’t care that she was shouting now. It felt good to shout, to scream out her emotions. Mystic Falls never gave her enough space to breathe. In New Orleans, she could scream her lungs out and keep coming up for air after if she wished to.

“Just because you don’t care for your own life does not mean others share the sentiment!”

He was shouting too now, and some sick, twisted part of her enjoyed it. She enjoyed the fact that she could anger the Hybrid King, that she alone could produce such heightened emotions from him. Maybe that’s why she’d come closer with every word, and why she held herself so straight as she neared him, yelling out, “Enlighten me, then! What exactly do you care for?”

Klaus’s gaze lit itself on fire. Bonnie’s eyes widened. His hands came up to her face, he pulled her in, and kissed her. She was frozen in shock for a single second. Then, she kissed him back with everything she had in her, clutching him as close as she could to her. They broke apart but he kept her flush against him, his forehead touching hers lightly.

“I’m staying,” Bonnie whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Bonnie — ” Klaus murmured, strained.

“No. We rule here. They will not chase us out.” She took his hand carefully, placing it between them to rest on her stomach. His fingers caressed the fabric, brushing back and forth over it.

“If they come for one of us, they are coming for all of us now.” She felt his sigh stir her hair, his palm flattening out against her belly.

“Then we will raze them all to the ground.”

That smile she loved, maniacal and bloodthirsty, rose into his lips.

Her own followed with it.

[world-class-curiosity]

started writing a fic for Cinderella Boy (webtoon by the amazing Punko, you should check it out if you haven't already), here's a few comments and one snippet so far. based loosely on a comment someone made in the patreon discord (i lurk in there a lot lol)

[mamawasatesttube]

i went down a brief rabbit hole earlier about horribly embarrassing pet names for timkon fake marriage fic possibilities (more on this in a few days). now i present to you: the highlights from a couple of lists i found on dating websites that, yes, really, were suggesting these as potential names to call your actual real-life partner.

binky

sexy beast

mcdreamy

mcsteamy

tater tot

love professor

macho mack

schmoopy

cookie-kiss

nutter butter

hubba bubba

pickle

num nums

sheriff

sir loves-a-lot

hunk-a-lunk

little muppet

ms. luscious lips

goofo

and my personal favorite,

captain hottie pants

[violent138]

Might write a fic where Dick from a different universe accidentally universe-jumps and runs into Jason, who's still the younger brother he's on pretty great terms with, and tries to discreetly puzzle out how his Jason becomes Red Hood while trying get back and Jason plays along, nearly totally convinced that this isn't the Dick he knows, especially once he dials Bludhaven, but it's immensely funny convincing this far more trusting and close version of his brother that in this world, Bruce has gone evil and Jason's one of the only people working to stop him.

[instantartific]

Reflections