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wingedfanphilosopher · 29 days ago

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First post I saw on SM today was yet another post hailing the “success” of Thunderbolts.

I thought, it’s Memorial Day here in the US — you know, the Day Americans love posting their Flag emojis and saying “Support the Troops”….

So let’s have a quick chat about how y’all have been treating an actual MCU veteran who took up the shield. I have time today 🙃

Captain America: Brave New World has made $415 million worldwide.

Thunderbolts? $355 million.

And yet, somehow Brave New World is being called a flop, while Thunderbolts is being celebrated as a “quiet success” or a “surprising win.”

Make it make sense. 🧐🧐🧐

Spoiler alert: 🚨 It’s racism. It’s always racism

Here’s what really happened:

Thunderbolts had the benefit of a stacked cast, pre-existing fanbases, and a darker team-up vibe that usually prints money for Marvel.

Brave New World? That was a solo origin story for Sam Wilson’s Captain America.

A Black man stepping into one of the most iconic roles in American cinema—one historically held my a white male, for the first time—and still pulling bigger numbers than the ensemble movie.

The math ain’t mathing—but the bias is biasing.

And in case you’re a little behind or don’t have a calculator handy, let’s help you out:

Brave New World made $415 million.

Thunderbolts made $355 million.

That’s a difference of $60 million.

Sixty. Million. Dollars.

But go off

The media tone between the two? Night and day.

The buzz? Filtered through the same lens that’s been trying to erase Sam since TFATWS— biased.

The truth? Black-led films are graded on a curve that’s set to fail us. Y’all tried the same shit with Sinners and failed MISERABLY.

Let’s be real, Marvel could release a movie of Bucky tying his boots for two hours and folks would call it “gritty cinema.”

But Sam Wilson gets a fully loaded, heartfelt origin story and suddenly everybody’s got amnesia about what success looks like?

What Brave New World represented was more than just ticket sales— it was about legacy, vulnerability, justice, and a man with wings carrying the shield through actual turbulence. And y’all gonna tell me that’s a failure?

Please. 😒

Thunderbolts can be good, and it can still benefit from the cushion of whiteness. But calling one a win and the other a flop when the numbers say otherwise? That’s not analysis. That’s agenda

The double standard is glaring. And exhausting.

⸻

Cliff Notes for those with short attention spans:

Brave New World was a first outing.

Thunderbolts had a stacked cast.

One made more money.

One is still called a flop.

Only one of them stars a Black man holding the shield. You do the math.

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wingedfanphilosopher · 3 months ago

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In Your Arms - joaquín x reader fic

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader

Summary: You remember when you first moved in with Joaquín and in the present time, you surprise Joaquín at home after being on vacation.

Genre: A bit of fluff and smut

After a delightful two-week escape with your family, you’re back home. It was a nice little getaway, but you had missed Joaquín. The sentiment was mutual, evident from the many videos and pictures he sent daily. You'd get shirtless mirror selfies at the gym with him showing off his physique, a video of him doing a little dance in his Falcon suit after a short mission, a sad puppy face in bed, and selfies of him doing mundane things like getting coffee.

Sam even sent you a video of Joaquín sprawled out on the sofa, passed out. He flipped the camera to himself, grinning as he explained how training had gone that day and how your boyfriend was holding up, then he leaned in with a glint in his eyes.

“So, this little vacation of yours is lasting a long time. You’re coming back, right?”

Sam was only asking because the one topic on Joaquín’s mind was you. Even though it had always been this way, he spoke about you to a greater extent more often when separated. This trip was initially supposed to last three weeks but in a thoughtful gesture to give poor Sam a much-needed respite and you just wanting to be back home, you booked a flight back few days earlier. After retrieving your luggage, you closed the trunk of the Uber driver’s car, checking Joaquín’s location for the hundredth time, and saw that he was at the apartment.

Years ago, you met Joaquín at a mutual friend’s party at the beginning of high school, and his witty charm won you over instantly. You’ve been dating ever since, navigating life together, especially since he started working with Sam. Only a couple of times have you voiced your opinions about the unpredictability of his schedule, your apprehension, etc. that had led to a few heated discussions. His new role was starkly different from the years he experienced in the Air Force and your worries just heightened even more when he was seriously injured during the fight at the Celestial Island.

Almost a year ago, you can still picture the disappointment etched on your face when he had to call to say that your anniversary dinner would have to be postponed for a later date. The plans you both had anticipated slipped away because of a sudden mission. Yet Joaquín didn’t let that dampen the occasion. In a gesture of grandeur, he had multiple lavish bouquets delivered to the doorstep. With the frequent conversations, you both have regularly offered each other gentle reassurance and Joaquín is undoubtedly grateful for your love and understanding.

As you approach the shared apartment with your key, a familiar Bad Bunny song barely suppressed beats greet you. Fortunately, the understanding neighbors have ceased complaining about the occasional bursts of loud music and other sounds. Another reason you decided to come home ahead of time, was the older couple next door. The Evans were out of state for the week visiting their grandchildren. You chuckle, recalling the morning when Joaquín returned from his workout. It was a week after you both had settled into the new complex.

“Babe?” Joaquín’s voice echoes through the apartment.

You glance at the clock on the bedside table. It’s 9 a.m., and you’re happily nestled back in bed, just about to dive into one of your favorite books—a typical Saturday morning. “I’m still in bed, as one should be this early,” you answer before hearing Joaquín’s footsteps enter the room. You hadn’t been in bed the whole time: you showered and got dressed in fresh pajamas, etc. Peeking over the top of your book, you spot him lounging against the doorframe. He’s wearing a faded tank top that hugs his frame, showcasing the outline of his toned muscles. His gym shorts, a bit frayed at the edges, carry the marks of countless workouts, their once vibrant colors now muted. Nestled on his head is his favorite baseball cap, slightly askew.

“I’ll stay in bed tomorrow. ¿Qué haces?”

“Just reading.” You lie, your eyes wandering over Joaquín’s figure. He catches you, flashing an innocent smile. So you raise the book, pretending to read but not focusing on the words. “How was your run?” “It was nice until Mr. and Mrs. Evans practically cornered me for a chat. Y’know the sweet but nosey neighbors, who I helped fix the Wi-Fi and set up the Xbox for their grandchildren, who, by the way-”

“Joaquín. What happened?”

You put your book beside you. It was futile attempting to read for the time being when he started talking. You didn’t mind; you love his stories.

“I became embarrassed; that’s what happened. The walls are seemingly thin here, and they pointed out they can hear us…” his sentence trails off, but you finish it for him. “Having sex.” Joaquín’s cheeks start to turn pink, and you can’t help but share in his embarrassment a little as he continues. “Yes. And how it’s okay and all good since we are a young couple in love. They kept going on and on about how they understood because when they first started dating and-” He stopped. “did you know this entire ordeal started just cause I said good morning as they were leaving? I got stuck in a 5-minute ‘conversation’ as I was trying to unlock the door, which was jammed, by the way.” He takes off his hat.

“Pobrecito.” you tease your now smiling boyfriend when he kneels beside the bed.

“I know you want to laugh.”

“Just a bit. It’s a little awkward.”

“I’m never making eye contact with them. Should we move?”

“Oh my God. You are so dramatic. We’re not moving.”

You reach out and ruffle his hair, unable to contain your laughter any longer. He goes in for a kiss, but you put your hand on his face. “Joaquín. You stink. Take a shower.” You take your hand off, and he pouts.

“Solo un beso.”

“No, you’re all sweaty.”

“That’s never stopped us before.”

Refusing to budge on your statement, you pick your book up.

“Y/N, it’s upside down.”

“Joaquín.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

With an exasperated sigh, you flipped your book upright, struggling to focus as rustling filled the air. He rummaged through the closet, pulling out a a fresh set of clothes laying it neatly on the bed along side a fluffy towel. The steady hiss of water from the shower soon followed, punctuated by the soft click of the bathroom door closing behind him. Without missing a beat, Joaquín erupts into an off-key rendition of some song. You couldn’t help but giggle as you tried to immerse yourself back into the world of your book but ultimately failed. While he’s in the shower, you get out of bed, place the book on the shelf and scroll through social media for a few minutes before putting your phone down. When Joaquín exited the bathroom, you glanced up casually. A towel loosely hung on his hips to taunt you with his v-line, and his curly hair was wet from the shower as he hummed another song. He must have felt your eyes on him since he laughed.

“Like what you see?”

“No sé.”

“I think we should kiss now.”

“And I think I’m trying to read my book.”

“Highly doubt that.”

It was hard keeping the smile off your face as he walked toward you. He rolls his eyes before they fall to your lips; he’s right in front of you now. So you repeat Joaquín’s words from earlier to him: “Solo un beso.”

At the sight of that familiar light in his eyes, you smile when he brings his palms to your cheeks and guides you for a long kiss. The warmth radiating from his body envelops you, while the cool drops of water from his curls trickle down your face, adding a refreshing contrast to the moment. After a few seconds, you slide your hands up his chest and begin to pull away when Joaquín brings you back with a harmless and playful bite to the bottom lip. He kisses you more deeply than before. Moments stretch into a couple more lingering seconds until you’re both breathless. “Drop your towel. I need you. Right now.” you whispered, your voice low and inviting. “Yes, ma’am.”

Back in the present, you unlock the door. The soft afternoon light filters through the curtains, glowing warmly on familiar surroundings. The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air. As your gaze travels across the room, it settles on your boyfriend, seated at his computer, immersed in another world. Joaquín wears a pair of headphones, his fingers dancing across the keyboard, clicking away furiously as he navigates through an intense video game. The Bad Bunny lyrics spill from his lips in a soft mumble as he absentmindedly fidgets with his dog tag. Instead of waiting for him to notice you’ve arrived, you take matters into your own hands and dial his number. His expression shifts from concentration on the game to surprise when he sees you’re calling. With a swift motion, he pulls off his headphones and eagerly reaches for his phone.

“Torres, what game is that?”

“How do you know—”

He looks up and sees you. “Surprised?” you ask before hanging up and putting your phone down. “What the fuck? Estas? When did you—?” He stutters out several beginnings of questions as he rises from his chair, tripping slightly but with the biggest smile on. The surprise is palpable as he rushes to you. “There was this—” He interrupts your sentence by wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up and spinning you around. Laughter bubbles up from within you. You nestle your face in his shoulder and inhale deeply, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne on the soft fabric of his shirt.

It was comforting. It was home.

He laughs as you pepper his face with tender kisses before he sets you down and looks at you like he can’t believe you’re here. Then, the warmth of his lips meets yours, his hands cradling your face, guiding you deeper into the apartment after he closes the door behind you. Your thoughts become lost as Joaquín’s leads you to the bedroom. You can feel his heart beating against yours, his breath hot against your skin, and you realize how much you’ve missed him. His hands take off your shirt and find your hips, pulling you close. The tension between you and Joaquín is electric, each movement and touch filled with anticipation and excitement.

“You’re here,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with relief and aching longing as your hands find their way into his disheveled hair.

“I am,” you breathe back.

“How was your day?” He inquires as you remove his shirt next. “Baby, I don’t want to talk about my day,” you reply lightheartedly as your back touches the cool sheets of the bed. Joaquín crawls on top of you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Damn, was it that rough?” he teases, an amused grin spreading across his face. “Stop talking,” you shoot back, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Alright.”

Joaquín uses his thumb to pry your mouth open enough to slip his tongue. One of his hands stays holding your face while the other slowly and softly caress down your body, going over your bra, then your stomach, and slipping into your underwear. Joaquín starts slowly, testing the waters. You buck your hips into his hand. “Not yet,” he whispers. His deep, smooth voice does nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. “Y/N. Right now, this is about you. Let me make you feel good. Te quiero.” The only response you give him is a whine, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going. With that, he creates circles over your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely, before dipping in. He revels in the noises you elicit. They’re making him dizzy and disoriented. His head leans back down to kiss your neck, and your hands shakily grab his shoulders.

“You’re doing so good for me, mi amor. Mi reina…"

Joaquín continues to murmur, enticing nicknames and praises into your ear. Everything Joaquín is saying and doing is building your orgasm deep in your belly. Your fingers move in his hair. “Feels so good,” you stutter. “Yeah? Then cum for me. Please, baby.” His words send you over the edge, and a wave of ecstasy washes over you as you fall apart beneath him. Your brows furrowed, and your eyes shut when he removes his fingers. You turn your head to meet his lips when he kisses your cheek, still wanting more. “Fuck me. Please, cariño,” you beg, breath quivering against your boyfriend’s lips, giving another peck. He hums in acknowledgment and reaches for the bedside table, fumbling open the drawer for a condom.

Joaquín’s cheeks are flushed, hair ruffled as you shamelessly gawk at his body. How the hell did you get so lucky? Joaquín is hot as fuck. He presses a kiss into your hair, and you close your eyes as he pushes inside you. You focus on the sensation. The weight and warmth, the feeling of his skin against yours, the coolness of his dog tag.

“Keep going. Just like that.” you encourage, causing Joaquín to groan against your neck in pleasure. The vibration of the sound flooded across your chest before kissing him deeply with a hunger that matched his own. Soon, he brings you both to a mind-shattering orgasm. Your body quivering with the aftershocks as he pants. Joaquín lies beside you, holding you close and smiling when you kiss his cheek.

“We should clean up.” he eventually says. You nod but don’t move.

“I’ll get you when the shower's warm.”

A/N: idk how to write smut so lol

Anyways, i rediscovered my crush on danny when watching CABNW and immediately started typing this little ficlet (i haven’t written in sooo long) I’ve discovered pinterest and have been staring at pictures of danny daily (as everyone should!) I LOVE HIM SM <3

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