Reminder That This Blog, While Not Politically Focused, Supports BLM. Bootlickers And Racists Aren’t

civil war but when zemo says the trigger words bucky goes into factory reset mode and starts speaking spanish like buzz lightyear in toy story 3

Clint: I failed the exercise test.

Natasha: How?

Clint:They asked me to run and I said no.

Bridging Boroughs

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Bartender!Reader with a past. Platonic!Matt Murdock

Summary: You and Matt come up with a plan to take on Kingpin politically.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Spoilers for DD:BA episode 8, (but works if you're not watching). Probably misunderstandings of the US political system.

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Matt groans as he wakes up. He feels like he got punched in the chest by a truck.

He tries to take in his surroundings - it’s hard over the beeping of the machines, but under the stillness of night he realises someone is sitting beside his hospital bed.

“Heather?” He croaks.

“Nope,” comes the unapologetic answer. He recognises that voice, but hasn’t heard it in a while. Matt frowns - is he wrong?

The pressure of booted feet landing on his bed, one ankle crossing over the other as his guest casually stretches out her legs gives him a better idea who his visitor is. He tries another name.

“You got it," you confirm. Matt can hear the mirthless smile in your voice. “Glad to hear we’re not complete strangers, even if I never would have guessed you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet aimed at the Kingpin.”

“I wasn’t-” Matt’s protestations are cut off by a tightness in his chest and he coughs, wincing at the pain, “I wasn’t trying to protect him.”

Your feet leave the bed as you press a plastic cup of water against the back of his hand. Matt takes it as silently as it's offered, a few sips doing little to soothe the roughness of his throat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks, reluctantly letting you take the glass from him when the wires tangled around him stop him reaching the sidetable himself.

“Well, that’s rude.” Your tone is more amused than offended.

“I mean it. I haven’t seen you since-” his voice dies in his throat.

“Since the funeral.” You finish for him, voice softer, “But I keep up to date. You’re all over the news. Thought it would be polite to visit an old friend in hospital.”

“We’re barely friends,” there’s a bitterness to Matt’s tone, more from regret than animosity. It’s been a long time since you were close, “And I’m pretty sure visiting hours were over a long time ago.”

“I make my own hours, you know that. And I said old friend.” You pause, continuing when his only objection is an irritated sigh. “Plus I saw a mutual acquaintance of ours recently - he was worried about you.”

Matt’s mouth sets in a hard line. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” your eyes scan over his damaged body, the tubes and machines keeping him alive, “And honestly, when Frank Castle is concerned about your mental health, something’s gotta be pretty wrong.”

“So you’re still in touch with Frank. And you think I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

“I drop in on him now and then, make sure he’s not dead. I don’t charge in on him like a madman with a deathwish.”

Matt grimaces.

“So come on, Matt. I’ve seen the other news about you too. The other you. What’s going on?”

In the absence of anyone else to talk to who won’t judge him, Matt reluctantly opens up.

Time passes, and as the sun threatens to break over the horizon, you both sink into thoughtful silence.

"Did you ever think that maybe you need to meet Fisk on his level?” You ask.

“I’d never do what he does,” Matt spits emphatically, “That’s the difference between us-”

“That was the difference between you. The difference now is that he’s the one who’s gone ‘legit’. Officially, at least.”

Matt opens his mouth to object, but you talk over him. “You not changing the city as a lawyer is nothing new. I thought you'd resigned yourself to that after - after Foggy. But Fisk isn’t fighting in the dark any more; you’ve lost your advantage.”

“So what, are you saying I should run for Mayor?”

“God, no. But we need to look in that direction. Maybe someone else, someone who’s pro-enhanced p-”

“Wait,” Matt bolts upright, ignoring the pain that slices through him, “There is someone. We could at least ask for help, while I’m stuck here.”

“Oh, so there’s a ‘we’ now?”

Matt grins, “How familiar are you with Brooklyn?”

—

Getting inside the Congressman’s office is easy for you, even in broad daylight. Plenty of people filing in and about, milling around - and you know how to go unnoticed. The bustling space is a much more casual, open place than you'd expected.

Getting access to him directly is more of a challenge.

After holding a store room door open for a smiling volunteer, you duck inside. Spotting a pile of discarded t-shirts from the recent campaign, you grab one and quickly swap it for your own plain top, before adding the casual blazer you'd worn to look appropriately professional on top of it. No need to be too obvious.

You'd spied his private office on your first loop around the floor, and now you make your way indirectly towards it. One well-placed slippery flyer in the path of a rushing intern later, and the woman stationed at the desk outside his door is running to the bathroom to try and soak the hot coffee out of her shirt.

Smiling benignly, you slip unseen into the Congressman’s office. The man you're looking for has his back to the door, standing behind a desk leafing through a file.

You have a moment to admire his broad back, the white shirt straining over strong shoulders, tapering down where it tucks into dark pants over narrow hips.

Forcing your eyes away from where they’ve drifted down, you've barely taken two steps into the room before he speaks.

“Are you one of those people who breaks in to try and sell me extra security?”

You stop abruptly - he hasn’t even turned around.

“No,” you answer casually, continuing to approach, “But maybe I should be, that sounds like a fun job. Do you think it pays well?”

“No idea,” finally Congressman Barnes turns to face you, dropping his papers onto the desk between you.

You let your gaze linger over his torso. He must get those shirts custom made, you think, so they're snug over his flat stomach without bursting the buttons over his chest.

Barnes crosses his arms, and the motion reminds you to look at his face, where he’s quirking an eyebrow at you, unflustered and unamused.

“So what are you doing breaking into my office?”

“Breaking in?” You try to sound offended, “I just wanted to meet the person I’ve been door knocking for-”

“You’re not one of the volunteers,” he interrupts cooly, “And you’re definitely not on the payroll. So now you need to explain why you’re lying as well as breaking in.”

“What, you know every single person who works for you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat while you recalculate your approach, then take the last few steps towards him, smiling broadly and holding out your hand, “I just wanted to say hi, have a quick chat.”

Instead of answering or shaking your hand, Barnes narrows his eyes suspiciously at you.

“And there was no breaking anything, so it wasn’t breaking in,” you grumble, lowering your hand.

“I’m still not hearing an explanation.”

“Okay,” you sigh, presumptuously dropping into one of the chairs in front of his desk, “I’ve come to ask what you’re planning to do about Mayor Fisk.”

Bucky’s neutral facade cracks in surprise. “What I'm planning to do about Mayor Fisk?” he repeats.

“His crusade against ‘vigilantes’,” you put air quotes around the loaded term, “His so-called taskforce are breaking every law they come up against to wipe out anyone they decide is suspicious, including everyone with enhanced abilities they can get their hands on. You were elected on a platform of protecting those same people, right? You can’t just do nothing.”

“I ran on more than one issue,” Bucky says, sitting down opposite you, “And Mayor Fisk was also elected by the people - and even if it wasn’t a key part of his campaign, as I understand it his opposition to vigilantes wasn’t exactly a secret.”

“That’s no excuse to just roll over and let him do what he wants!”

Bucky frowns. “No, it’s not,” he muses, “But so far his taskforce have restricted themselves to Manhattan. Unless they cross into Brooklyn, there’s not much I can do about it.”

You're visibly unimpressed at his answer, crossing your arms and glaring at him in place of a response.

After a moment of thought, Bucky’s gaze intensifies, and he leans towards you across the desk, “Do you have a - vested interest - in this?”

Fighting to keep your heart rate steady, you answer him honestly, “I’m here on behalf of a friend. And everyone else who feels hopeless about what the Kingpin is doing to our city. Everyone else who wants to fix it.”

Bucky studies you silently. Your answer was true - and you have no intention of sharing more than you need to about your history, or those nights when it bleeds into your present. Even Fisk never knew about you, and with Karen in California, Matt and Frank are the only people left in the city who have any idea what you've done, and neither of them know you've not given it up as thoroughly as you suggest.

"This friend," Bucky starts, clearly not believing you, "they didn't want to speak to me themselves?"

"They're in hospital." Your answer is more vehement than you intended, and you hope you've not given too much away.

Barnes sits back with a sigh, “Okay. I’ll talk to my team about it. We’ve been considering putting out a statement; a citizen complaint is a good enough reason to push that through. And I’ll look into what else we can do. Encourage an investigation into the taskforce, or some kind of oversight requirements. Legal protections for enhanced people with no record of vigilantism.”

It’s less than you wanted, but more than you'd hoped for from a politician. “Sounds like an okay start,” you allow.

An amused smile flickers across Bucky’s face as he stands up, dismissing you. You mirror him.

“Are you a Brooklyn resident?” He asks.

“Not exactly.”

“That’s a no.”

“Compassion doesn’t stop at the East River,” you retort, and Bucky’s smile widens.

“I agree. And I give you my word that I’ll do everything I can to rein Fisk in and keep innocent people safe, inside my jurisdiction and out.” He holds his hand out to you.

“Good,” you answer begrudgingly, grasping his hand firmly, “I’m holding you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he squeezes back, “And your friend - if it’s dangerous for them in Manhattan, there’s a safe place for them this side of the river. Always. If Fisk’s taskforce follows - well, there might be more I can do.”

“Good to know. And if you ever want to update me on your progress - save me trekking all the way out here again - I work at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen,” You give him the name as you turn to leave. “If you make good on your promise, I might even buy you a drink.”

Bucky smiles. It’s an appealing offer. “I’ll keep that in mind. Wait,” he nods to your shirt, where Vote Barnes for the 9th District is emblazoned across your chest, “Did you pay for that?”

Rolling your eyes, you slip your jacket from your shoulders, Bucky’s eyes following the smooth motion, “I was going to give it back,” you lie.

“Don’t.” he stops you, a quick twitch at the corner of his lips, “You can keep it. Looks good on you.”

You smile languidly as you pull the jacket back on.

“Thanks, Congressman,” you reach for the door handle, adding over your shoulder, “I’ve been looking for something to wear in bed.”

Once his door has swung shut behind you Bucky lets out a long breath, rubbing his right hand over his face as he sinks into his chair.

He could have handled that more professionally, but something in your fearless attitude and sly smile had intrigued him - and the reason for your questionable visit was smart, principled - and ballsy.

He’ll definitely be stopping by that bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

IF YOU WANT THE SIMS 4 BASE GAME, IT’LL BE FREE FOR THIS ENTIRE WEEK AND THEN YOURS FOREVER.

If the ocean ever disappears DONT GO LOOKING FOR IT… go in the other direction

Identical - The Twins Backstory (Prologue 1)

(Lovely poster made by @prettybubblesintheair, I’m so thankful for you, and I love your amazing work darl! Please check out her blog, she’s an absolute gem 💖)

Hey guys! Mini Prologue here for “Identical”.. In order to kick things off with this story, I’ve decided to give you an idea of what’s happened before all of this “Tom liking bestfriend and Harrison marrying her bullshit” 😂

This story would make a lot more sense in future chapters if you read this epilogue haha! Also I’m going to be doing a seperate epilogue for Tom as well, because this story is based on his point of view too!! Ahh I’m so excited angels, please let me know what you guys think cause I need that shit 😂💖💝

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Y/N - Your name

L/N - Last name

Emily - Your twin

~~

Identical Twins:

either of a pair of twins who, as a result of developing from a single fertilized ovum, are alike in all genetic characteristics (including sex) and typically very similar in appearance.

~~

Born. Identical.. Inseparable… Compared…. Jealousy….. Heartbreak…… Bitterness

Y/N L/N and Emily L/N, were two beautiful identical girls that were both conceived by the same mother, on the same day and at the same time. It was like seeing a duplicate of one person, a beautiful creation purposely doubled, the only difference between them was their personalities, both different and opposite of one another.

As they were growing up they were inseparable, sharing the same dolls, clothes, hair ideas and eventually makeup when they hit the early teenage years.

Unfortunately overtime during high school, they grew apart, both on the opposite sides of the social ladder, her being popular and you a simple outcast. Due to their personalities being opposite of each other they were completely different people, the only bond they could muster between them was simply hanging loosely by a thread of well… nothing..

Your father was to blame for all of this, using his power and authority over you to convince your mind that you were the weak one, the mistake, the unloved one out of the two. The man had favourites, and unfortunately for you, it was your twin sister, Emily.

Whilst this was happening throughout your teenage years it caused some serious damage to your self-esteem. Your mind was playing tricks on you, causing you to hate everything about yourself, starting from the way you talked, looked, walked and laughed.. just simply every day things that defined you as a person. The comparisons quickly took its toll on you, forcing you to hold a firm grudge against your perfect sister, the oh so innocent one.

You have been always compared to her, your looks, your grades, your popularity. It was all just a game to your father, taking advantage of your different personalities and passions, to watch you silently fume in the corner, as you gazed upon your sister who took the spotlight.

Out of spite towards your twin, you tried so hard to gain the affection from your father, even at the risk of losing everything and everyone around you.. but it never seemed enough for him, your efforts going to a complete waste.

During the time of this happening, Emily was oblivious, taking your behaviour as a simple teenage thing, a thing that she was going through herself, but not as intense.

Completely opposite to you, she was naive to everything around her, for the longest time she failed to realise the fire that your father continued to create within you.

You continuously fought against her, shutting down any of her efforts to reconnect with you. You were so far gone down the black hole of insecurities, that all you felt was a deep immense hatred towards your blood twin, your insecurities slowly eating you up inside.

You weren’t the smartest. You weren’t the prettiest. You weren’t the most stylish. You weren’t the most popular. Most importantly.. You weren’t the favourite and you never would be.

It didn’t help that she was so loving, smart and beautiful. You wanted to hate her, to shut her out, and to make her feel the way you did, but you couldn’t… because you loved her. She was your twin, your very own heart and soul. Of course you would never admit that, quickly mastering the facade of a bitchy sister. Masking your love for hatred, never wanting her to know the absolute affects she held over you…..

In an effort to get rid of the toxic ways of your father, you fled to Australia to finally start afresh. To be able to do this, you had to completely wipe out any evidence of your horrible past… and that included your twin sister. You stopped contacting all together, deleting your family off your phone and any social media, completely cutting all ties from your old life.

On the year of your 19th birthday you started a new college, adjusting quickly to the new atmosphere and even finding new friends that you absolutely adored. Slowly but gradually you picked up the pieces that was left of you… the real you.

From here on, the story is only just starting to begin….

~~

What did you guys think? Please tell me haha 😂🤪💖

TAG LIST: @typicaltrashbagg @southsidefandoms @slut-for-fandoms @greenarrowhead @prettybubblesintheair

(Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 😘)

Saying “this niche, properly tagged, warned, and rated piece of fiction could theoretically hurt someone” is not a good argument. This properly labeled cookie with the allergen information at the bottom that contains gluten could theoretically harm me very badly, but only if I consume it. Tags are like nutrition labels, and warnings are like allergy information. If you know you have an allergy to something, the logic is to stay away from it. It is the same with fiction. I’m not running through stores yelling at people to take all the products with gluten off the shelves just because it could hurt me. Instead I ignore it and go to the gluten free section and find cookies that are right for me. And if running through a grocery store yelling sounds ridiculous, that’s because it is. Stop doing the same with fiction.

i think we should go trick or treating on tumblr on halloween. going to send asks saying ‘trick or treat’

As a sidenote jigsaws are so underrated they can keep me busy for hours

R/n is definitely given jigsaws to do in every meeting their favourite is 100% the ikea jigsaw cause all the pieces are different sizes and shapes 🫧

The main reason why R/N is given a jigsaw is because they tend to ask dumb questions at the wrong time. Or sometimes, since they are too innocent for the images shown of dead civilians Price or Ghost hands them the puzzle.

Gaz: Then we have the images of-

Price and Ghost: Hold that thought

Price hands them the puzzle and r/n grins,

R/N: Puzzle time!!!!

Soap: they are a grown adult-

Ghost: Hush!