#tony soprano can reclaim it.

[speedwayy]

inspired by the logan roy rolling with the lgbt video but i used born this way for italian pride

#the sopranos #this got taken down on the dark evil app this truly is the only place you can freely say faggot #tony soprano can reclaim it. #fanvid

[hoursofreading]

In the American context, my personal view is that all of the signature economic policies of the past 30 years — ALL of them, from NAFTA to the Bush Tax Cuts to TLGP/TARP to QE1/2/3/infinity to Obamacare to the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act to PPP to the American Rescue Plan to the Inflation Reduction Act – have been bust-out policies. And it’s not going to stop. It’s not going to stop because we are increasingly a nation of weak men, degenerate gambling men, men who in their desperation for wealth or recognition will bet more than they can afford to lose over and over and over again. And I’m not talking about a loss of money, although yes that, too. I’m talking about a loss of autonomy of mind, where the weak man willingly gives away his very identity to a political party or economic creed if they will just allow him to be part of the action. Because in the end that’s all the weak man, the degenerate gambling man, has left. The action. It’s not going to stop because we are increasingly a nation of rapacious men, clever-edging men, men who discover early on that they’re damned good at playing the game of take-the-sap’s-money and never realize until it’s too late that the table stakes for this particular game are … well, being damned themselves. And I’m not talking about being damned in the religious sense, although yes that, too. I’m talking about a loss of humanity, where the rapacious man willingly gives away his very identity to a corporation or business partnership if they will just allow him to continue winning the game. Because in the end that’s all the rapacious man, the clever-edging man, has left. The winning. There are lots of Old Stories about times like this, when our nation itself seems like it’s sick, when our society and all within it seem to be infected by avarice and wrath and pride and lust and envy and sloth and gluttony just as surely as any virus. My favorite of these Old Stories likens it to a box of evils opened and loosed on the world. But you know what remains and is preserved when the box is opened, right? Hope. I started this note by writing that the story of Bed Bath & Beyond was maybe, just maybe, a story of hope, and that’s how I’m going to finish it. I am hopeful that the reality of the Bed Bath & Beyond bust-out — crappy stores and crappy management and overwhelming debt ending in failure — will encourage weak men and rapacious men alike to see beyond the narratives of market game-playing and control. I am hopeful that the reality of the American bust-out — crappy institutions and crappy leaders and overwhelming debt ending in failure — will similarly encourage weak men and rapacious men alike to see beyond the narratives of political game-playing and control. I am hopeful, not in the common but false usage of the word as ‘optimistic’ or ‘thinking it likely’, but in the true sense of the word as being ‘full of hope’. I am full of hope that weak men will choose to reclaim their autonomy of mind and that rapacious men will choose to reclaim their humanity. I’m not optimistic. But I am very, very hopeful!

#quote

[thejamesoldier]

Opia

Part Two to this Part One!

Hi again! So this got a fair amount of praise so hopefully I can write yall a good story xx 

Summary: The a/b/o verse where Hydra fucked with Bucky’s hormones and temporarily made him a Beta (because they take orders better) as the Winter Soldier, but now that he’s safe at Stark Tower, Tony hires Y/n to help re-orientate him back to his natural-born rank as Alpha. 

Tags: ADORABLE DRUNK BUCKY OMG I HAD SO MUCH FUN, fluffy, angst, no smut yet x

Tagged Lovlies: @softforseb, @mrtinslydia, @wine-and-space-donuts, @aislinsekhem, @damn-that-arm, @stovehairington, @xxchexchickxx, @the-one-and-only-vampcake, @38leticia, @celestialcelery, @randompolypodizia, @cassandras-musings, @buckyandsebsinbin, @kashicanhaz, @nuvoleincielo, @evilmermaidsinc, @skyrina, @creideamhgradochas

(these AMAZING covers are credited to the wonderful @fandom-obsessed-girl THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! And feel free to send in some of your own covers or fanart of the story if you’re bored and you want to haha)

Chapter 2 - Phase 1: Get James To Relax

Okay its not even been a week and Phase 1 of Project Alpha J.B.B is already a mighty fucking disaster. And not in the sense that you didn’t get him to relax, which was the goal, the problem was that he actually became way too relaxed. 

Tony, being the nosy and over protective asshole that he is, decided to throw a little party with just the Avengers and their close friends as a formal way of welcoming you to their nest aka Stark Tower. It sounded intimate, only friends and family, but after you thought about it you realized there are kind of a lot of Avengers and a few close friends and family really makes the numbers multiply. You hadn’t liked the whole party idea,

1. Because that’s not advised protocol when trying to familiarize yourself with your new client

and

2. Because you hate parties, so

But Tony won out mostly because it is his house (or er, tower) you were both staying in so you didn’t really have a choice. In all honesty you wanted Barnes and you to move out and live alone as part of Phase 4, in order to get him away from all the noise and bustle and activity of the Tower that clouded his senses that were already struggling to color reality for him. 

You knew you would have to have a PowerPoint, three ten page essays, and four formal proposals ready to present to Tony The Mom and Steve The Dad in order to get clearance for Barnes to leave and live without them. 

As the party was on Saturday, you had an entire week to get a feel for the dynamics within this ‘Super Pack’ as you chose to nick name the Avengers. Sure you could pick up on the basic Alpha Beta Omega ranks, but individuals were more complex than that. Meaning certain Alphas are higher than others, same goes for the other ranks, and it takes skill to figure out those kind of subtle scent signatures and pheromone details. By the end of the week though, you had a solid layout of the ranks and relationship dynamics of and between everyone. What? You were fucking good at what you did. Though, to their credit, this pack was a lot more complex than any other pack you’ve worked with due to all the unique talents and gifts and abilities which slightly enhanced whatever their natural born rank was. 

You knew everyone by scent instead of just name-to-face. They were in your vault now; an omega like you never forgets a scent signature once you’ve committed it to memory.  

Most of the week you spend sorting all pack stuff out, but the other half of your energy was spent familiarizing yourself with the ridiculous large Tower you were now going to have to navigate and live in. There were DNA scanners that needed your fingerprints, eye scan, voice scan, scent signature, and it was honestly overwhelming. You had access to all the common floors (and your own floor, yeah you had your own floor which was ridiculous) and whatever Barnes allowed you access to that was on his floor. Even though Barnes was surprisingly willing to allow you full unrestricted access to his floor and personal bedroom, out of respect you settled on access to his living room, green room, gym, tech room, mini gun range, and foyer but left his sleeping quarters private. 

It just didn’t seem right, and James seemed to agree. Although you found he agreed with everything and anything anyone said, he obviously wasn’t comfortable making his own decisions, even ones as simple as picking food for a meal. That would be one of the first issues you would attempt to address with him. 

Through out the week you quickly gathered that Barnes, despite being temperate and sweet, was also stiff as a board and awkward. Outwardly he was constantly uncomfortable, always unsure, jumpy, nervous, and inwardly there was a darkness to how he treated and spoke to himself that broke your heart. 

That darkness disappeared altogether though the night of the party. 

Never in your life did you imagine you would ever see James Barnes drunk. I mean it was supposed to be impossible.

It’s currently Saturday night and Stark’s party is turning out to be a success, as all Tony Stark parties end up being, and you have being working on the same glass of lovely rose wine for the past hour and a half. Parties aren’t really your scene, but since you were going to be living with these people, and Barnes was going to be there because Rogers was going to be there, you thought it best to try and fit into their lives. The Avengers are all generally nice to people outside of their pack, and even if most of them are intimidating (not that you minded that, you were intimidating too) as is there nature, you still could see yourself coexisting quite well. 

You kept lazy track of Barnes as he bounced around with Steve from small groups of people throughout the room, currently they were drinking something Thor was uncorking and boasting animatedly about. Even though you were trying to get Barnes comfortable with you around, and did not expect him to be by your side all night or even come over, it was important and instinctual for the Alpha if not to make first eye contact, then to at least demand for it to be upheld. 

A good Alpha always makes sure his bond mate knows where their Alpha is, because Alpha means safety. Or at least that’s the primal part of it. Nowadays, with the whole Omega Rights Movement, Omegas are learning that they can trust Alpha mates (if they chose to have one) but don’t have to be singularly dependent on them. 

And since you are trying to re-orientate James’ mind into remembering his rank as an Alpha, you yourself have to know how an Alpha thinks, what their impulses are, what their primal instincts are in order to act in ways to either provoke that behavior or trigger it. But right now, Bucky is almost showcasing classic textbook Omega nervous behavior. What with how he is shadowing Steve, never meets anyone’s gaze for longer than three seconds, doesn’t look like he says anything without silently checking with Steve first. 

You sigh internally and take a big gulp of your wine, mentally going through protocols and which behavioral manipulative exercises you should try first with him. He’s going to be your toughest case yet. You get so lost in thought staring at your wine and swirling it around the glass like you’re stirring the ideas in your mind, that you don’t notice Barnes approaching you. Well, you could have been made to notice with certain Alpha grade sensory techniques Barnes has at his disposal but he is far from capable of that at the moment. 

“Hey,” James doesn’t necessarily slur but definitely prolongs the ‘ey’ as he sidles up to you. 

You snap your gaze up at him with genuine impatience, only to jump in your own skin when you see Barnes’ expression. He looks…no…it can’t be. Frantically you search his eyes and simultaneously sift through his client file in your head. Didn’t he say he couldn’t ever get drunk? Supersoldier shit and all? 

Instead of responding you just deadass stare straight at him and cock your head to the side a bit, eyebrows knitting low over your puzzled gaze. The dumbest, loosest grin ever crawls and plops itself sloppily on James’ lips as his eyes slow blink at you, one eyelid sticking longer than the other. 

You wait a couple of half alarmed-half verging on comical beats of silence before speaking, 

“James are you dru–,”

“S’nice,” James slurs over the beginnings of your concerned question, tipping into your space like a human leaning tower of piza.

“What?” Comes your emotionally whiplashed response as you slowly pull back, matching him inch for inch as he encroaches on you.

And before you can say anything further James honest to God whisper yells ‘Timber!’ and almost head butts you on his way to smashing his entire face (stubbled jaw and all) into your neck, taking a loud and long breath through his nose against your skin.

“Woah hey hi hello there!” You exclaim in a strange soprano key you haven’t broken up to before as you not so gently try to shove him out of your personal space. When that doesn’t work because shit he’s fucking strong you expertly slither your way out of his clumsy grabby hands. 

“More,” James growls fiercely when you manage to detach his face from your neck, which might have been threatening but the way he’s pawing at you like a attention-starved puppy sort of takes away the reality of actual danger.  

“More?” You ask through grit teeth as you wrestle him away from you like you would wrestle a fussy toddler into clothes. But James stubbornly keeps reclaiming his space in your bubble like a magnet that’s found it’s polar opposite. 

“I want more,” He demands again, this time not in a growl but a sensual grovel that vibrates under the meaty muscle of his chest that he purposefully presses to yours.

Before you can wonder what the actual fuck Bucky is talking about and why he’s suddenly displaying textbook Alpha behavior (okay maybe drunk Alpha behavior, but Alpha behavior all the same), Sam Wilson waltzes up brandishing a half full glass of gin and tonic and his classic megawatt smile. 

“Hey Y/n! I see you and Buck-pukey have gotten off on a better foot than ‘I dareth not get any closerth’!” Sam recites in a truly poor imitation of your voice and in an equally terrible Shakespearean rendition of the words you said to Bucky at the beginning of the week when you met. 

“AHHH!” James literally roars, teeth bared like a little lion, “Get away from her you SNEAK!” He declares in a lose loud threat, shoving you behind him with an unexpected amount of force and making a weird drunk growling noise (is that a thing?) deep in his chest. 

Sam and you catch eyes over James’ metal shoulder. But instead of the expected confused look you thought Sam would share with you, Wilson looks ready to fight–

“Sam is your friend James,” You interject stiffly to cut off Sam when he opens his mouth looking like he’s about to argue back. Avidly you to keep the hysterical smile threatening to take over your expression of absolute professionalism off your face. “You don’t want to fight him.” 

“Oh yes I do, now prepare to DIE you stinking tin bird,” James threatens and before you can respond to the utter ridiculousness of that statement, Sam beats you to it albeit in a less mature way.

“Take a shot you shitty arm wrestling machine!” 

The night really took a sharp fucking turn to the left that you weren’t at all prepared for. 

As you try to contemplate what the actual fuck is going on, Barnes keeps making that weird growling sound at Sam, who is in turn responding with a committed ‘You shall not pass!’ Gandalf reenactment (which now that you think about it doesn’t really make much sense in response to Bucky’s original duel challenge, but who cares they were drunk). 

It’s time you stepped in. Are they always like this?

“Grow up you two! James, stop making that noise and Sam put that drink down before you spill all over your Armani.” 

They continue to ignore you so you sigh and calmly set your long forgotten glass down on a nearby table. You flick your hair out of your eyes and slip out from behind James who is bantering pettily with Sam, making your way over to Steve who looks suspiciously spacey too as he chuckles animatedly next to a slightly swaying Thor. 

“Mr. Rogers,” You say and peruse your lips as Steve jumps and faces you, big blue eyes wide and a bit watery. 

“Y/n, ma’am, um please call me Steve,” Rogers – Steve – requests when he seems to finally focus on you. 

Ma’am? Okay…

You raise an eyebrow at the Captain but oblige him, “Steve I think Mr. Bar– James needs to be escorted to his room to rest for the night, or he and Sam will be calling each other names all night.” 

Steve immediately spots James and Sam where you left them arguing and rolls his eyes fondly. 

“Oh they’re fine,” 

“So they always act like hangry four-year-olds who missed nap time?” 

Steve slow blinks at you, similar to the way James did, “Did you just say hungry or angry?” 

You huff with mild irritation before forcing a smile and excusing yourself.

“Urban Dictionary it!” You smart playfully over your shoulder at Steve as you walk away to take things into your own hands. 

When you approach James its like his nose pulls his face around to you like a fish on a line. His eyes land on you and freeze for a moment, you can practically see the ‘Processing Error 305′ in his pupils before he realizes that you had been gone this whole time. James gasps in this goofy worried way and chucks his arms around you and hauls you into his chest. 

“You can’ go missin’ like tha on me a’righ?” James struggles to get out and he begins petting your hair as you try to wiggle out of his arms once again. Your efforts seems to have no effect on Barnes though, seeing as he just continues petting you and holding you flush to him, glaring over your head at Sam who’s currently finishing off some flourishing insult. 

“Come on let me go James, I won’t leave but I can’t breathe.” You say, adding the little lie about not being able to breathe (even though you could breathe just fine, in fact his scent was so alluring, so calming yet stimulating beneath the coating of trauma you would be content to stay there and try to figure out the scent signatures like a rubik’s cube all night). 

As you predicted James releases you with an odd coo, holding you at arms length and going almost crossed eyed as he watches the pulse in your neck beat in healthy time with your chest rising, apparently making sure you could breathe again. Rolling your eyes, you cautiously start to coax James out of the room. You send Sam a sharp stink eye when you see he’s about to further instigate trouble with the drunk mass of muscle in your arms by re-starting the petty banter. Sam snaps his mouth closed into a pout before skulling back the rest of his drink and sauntering off.  

“Come on I’ll walk you to your room, or er floor.” You say in a tone you usually reserve for children. Apparently it was needed at the moment though as James began yielding to your hands and letting you lead him away. 

James eventually gives up on trying to escape (to insult Sam again probably) and follows you willingly out of the party and into the private hallways of the Tower. It’s a minute or two of merciful silence as you walk side by side, before James ruins your peace. 

“S’nice,” He repeats what he said before as he again begins falling into you, snuffling his way to your neck. “S’mine.” 

It honestly catches you off guard when James grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you hard against the wall, tracing a trail with his nose from the base of your collarbone, up your neck, and around to the soft patch of skin behind your ear and back down again. Your head slammed pretty hard but you recover quick enough to register the scrape of – 

Are those his teeth against my Bond Spot?!

“James you can’t you’ll hurt me no!” You yell as you put all your energy into shoving him off you.

He pulls back, albeit a little wobbly and not because you shoved him but by his own will, and stares at you with these big deep endless argent blue ocean eyes. 

“I would never harm you,” James murmurs with his eyebrows pulled low and his irises shaking around wide pupils. Genuine. Meaningful. A moment of clarity in the haze of whatever it is that he’s drunk on.

You observe him for a second before gulping discreetly and quickly fixing your hair from his impromptu re-styling session. As he stares at you there is no intention of malice or dishonor in his eyes, so you forgive his unchecked behavior and add it to the list of ridiculousness that went on tonight. 

“You better not,” You warn before sighing and waving him to follow you, “Come on I’ll see you to bed.” Your voice takes on the tone of that of a mother coaxing a toddler to their room (which is honestly not far from the current situation). 

James watches you take one, two, three strides away from him before his gaze falls to rest on his metal and flesh hands. He giggles, the sound catching in his throat, at how funny it would be if he was holding purple feathers right now. James’ sways his weight forward and stumbles blindly after you. His drunk mind grasps desperately for entertainment after a few beats of renewed silent walking, and when his eyes find the blurry image of your butt displayed nicely in your skirt an uncoordinated grin slaps itself onto his face. He trips forward,

“HEY!” You jump as your hands fly to cover your behind, “Did you just pinch my butt?” Comes your disbelieving exclamation of surprise as an after math stinging sensation rolls through the flesh of your left ass cheek. 

James giggles louder this time, the noise cracking in a squeaky discombobulated way as he jogs to round in front of you, circling you and eyeing you like an animal…like an Alpha would. Huh.

“Beautiful butt.” Is all he has to say for himself as he continues to circle you with this odd little swag you have never seen him work before, ending up behind you again. 

“Well, um, thanks? But lets keep our hands to ourselves shall we–,”

“Woo!”

“James! I said hands off Mr.!” You whirl on him again, keeping both of your hands on your ass this time, protecting those cheeks from the wrath of Drunk Alpha James: A Menace. James laughs all loopy as this time instead of pinching your butt he had oh so gently – politely – tapped it. 

When Bucky stumbles to face you he leans in so fast that your noses accidentally boop. And before you can register all that is happening he speaks. 

“Catch me,” He teases randomly before taking off at an impressive sprint down the hall while attempting, to your great horror, to take his clothes off. 

When you eventually find Barnes he’s on the gym floor of the Tower (how in the hell did he get there so fast?) splashing around happily in the huge Olympic grade indoor swimming pool.

“Y/n! Y/n, the water is wonderful come play with me!” He cheers when he sees you come in.

You can’t do much else but stand on the edge of the pool rim and watch with your mouth dropped open as James Buchanan Barnes swims buck fucking nude in the gym pool. 

“I am Poseidon, God of the Sea, and you can be my mermaid wife,” Bucky explains very matter of factly as splashes around in the shallow end before becoming positively entranced with how the light dances off his metal arm under the water and letting out a tiny ‘Oooh’. 

“Hey Y/n, have you seen Buc–CKY?!” Steve calls jogging up to your side apparently just having realized his friend was missing from the party and about to ask where he’d gone, but chokes mid ‘Bucky’ at the sight of his naked best friend in the pool. 

“Jesus H. Christ? What was in that stuff Thor gave us?” Steve says before honest to God placing a fucking hand over his heart and huffing all scandalized like a passionate republican grandma in church. 

“Stevie!” James yells in a goofy shriek once he notices Steve’s presence beside you, the biggest damn smile on his face as he flails and splooshes in the water around himself, “You can be my brother Zeus!” 

Steve is about to respond in the best way anyone could to that particular invitation, when James begins to rise out of the water near the shallow end. This effectively cuts Steve off and makes your brain short circuit. James stands up just enough that the V of his hips glimmers in the artificial light above the pool, and his twig and berries stay safely blurred under the rippling surface.

You just simply didn’t have the strength to look away from all that glory – the wet dark hair, the shining beefcake chest, the light tangoing on the edge of his jaw, that magnificent metal arm (scars and all), the soaked happy trail…

Though that didn’t stop Steve from going all Grandpa on you and covering your eyes with both of his large hands (like one wasn’t enough?), hissing a chastising ‘Bucky!’. 

What the hell was your life? 

A watery grunt pulls you out of your head and ends the moment of hysteria swiftly. James is in pain (how you knew that from just a grunt was beyond you).

“My, my head is throbbing,” James sure enough declares as his drunk stupor wares off a little and discomort starts to replace it. 

His system must be working whatever it is he took or drank out fast. 

“Now will you listen to me?” You huff as you snag a towel off a neatly folded stack sitting on a nearby lawn table. “Steve, can you make sure James’ bed is turned down and that there is a proper dosage of advil on his side table accompanied by, like, five liters of water?” 

Steve nods, mock salutes you (or at least you think – fucking hope – it was a mock salute), and takes one last worried glance at James before trotting off. Rogers smacks his toe on the door on the way out, you roll your eyes. 

Stupid fucking drunk alpha supersoldiers. How in the heck were you roped into all this again?

You wade down onto the pool steps and begin beckoning James into the harbor of your open towel-draped arms. As he gets closer you realize that if your gaze lowers from its current place at the cleft in his chin, you will see his dick. You slap yourself mentally and quickly wrap him up the second he’s close enough to hug into you.  

“Y/n I hurt,” James whimpers like he just aged back twenty years. It should sound weird and silly, but it’s honestly the purest thing you’ve ever heard. 

You sigh, “Alright it’s okay Stevie is making sure your bed is all cozy and I’m right here.” 

He nuzzles into you which you stubbornly admit is sweet, but it also makes it extraordinarily difficult to assist him and yourself safely out of the pool. You eventually get the both of you onto dry level cement, and a thought hits you. 

“James,” With your eyebrows scrunched and a drunk alpha supersoldier blocking most of your visual field, searching the ground for James’ magically missing clothes becomes a difficult task, “Where the fuck are your clothes?” 

“I ate ‘em.”

“WHAT?!” You cry in complete panic, grabbing him by the shoulders and wrenching him to face you. 

A slurred cackle leaks from the hopelessly adorable smile on his face at your alarmed and worried reaction. I mean at this point you were so off from normal drunkenness you were taking no chances. 

“Got ya,” James murmurs before his happy expression wipes back to muted pain, he exclaims a soft ‘owie’, and then literally shoves his nose right into the soft warm alcove of your neck. Again. He takes a deep slightly wheezing breath in, and exhales in one. big. wet. dog-like. HUFF. 

You roll your eyes for the millionth time tonight and battle your growing fondness/omega-related desires back into their respective cages. You ignore how right it feels for him to scent you (even as drunk as he is, and even though you didn’t give him permission), you ignore the way your body tingles for him, you ignore the safe feeling his presence alone gives you, you ignore how his voice finds a home in the marrow of your bones, you ignore how his touch stills your soul from a raging ocean to an untouched sacred pond. You just continue to dry him off and ignore. 

Eventually you make it to James’ room. Steve did his duty and left all and any needed care items out for you to easily find. James stubbornly hasn’t let you remove his nose from the spot on your neck where your scent is strongest so you eventually gave up trying to push him off and just shuffled with him here. Clothes were problem number one, and you saw Steve laid out a pair of soft looking sweatpants. 

“Okay James I’m gonna–,”

“Bucky, call me Bucky,” He mumbles, voice muffled against your neck. The warmth of his breath on your skin makes you repress a shiver.

“Okay Bucky I’m gonna need you to put your pants on for me,” 

He harrumphs crankily in retaliation, but only when you promise that he can temporarily return to your neck after, does he scramble away from you and hastily shove his legs into the sweats. You of course give him privacy and turn your back. 

The room suddenly goes very quiet. There’s no more clothing rustling against skin and metal or the sound of his breath huffing out in effort, and before you can turn around to check James – Bucky – runs his cold metal knuckles up the exposed line of your back (this is kinda what I imagine you wore to the party), following the bone road of your spine, raising goosebumps in their wake. When he reaches the top knob, he swipes his chilly fingers across the back of your bare neck. 

The shiver that ripples through your entire body could have been categorized as a seizure. 

“Woah okay,” You choke out as you whip around and take a healthy step back from James. 

“M’sorry,” James apologizes immediately, looking guilty for the first time since he came up to you this evening, strangling his metal wrist with his flesh fingers against his lower stomatch. “It’s harder to control impulses with the metal arm,” He offers sheepishly as he shrugs into himself and lowers his eyes, slipping out of the Alpha persona he adopted while more drunk. 

You notice he said ‘the metal arm’ and not ‘my metal arm’. It makes you impossibly sad for some reason. 

“It’s alright, here,” You say as the moment grows too intimate in the silence for your liking, too soon, too much. Holding the pills in one palm and the jug of water in the other hand, you offer them to Bucky with a twitchy smile. 

He takes the items cautiously, his flesh fingers shaking as they graze your palm to scoop the pills up, and his metal hand stiff as the fingers tick and whir as they grab the jug from you. 

Bucky winces after he downs the pills and the water, rubbing his right temple with his eyes shut tight, 

“Remind me never to drink anything Thor offers me again.” 

You don’t respond verbally only nod even though his eyes are closed, and quickly escape the room without a word. Bucky looks up at the soft sound of his door closing and groans as he flops on his bed. He won’t remember much of this in the morning. 

Once you are safely back on your floor and under the spray of your shower, do you let the unbelievable weirdness of the night settle on your shoulders. Your mind cards through tonight’s events with a fine tooth comb and automatically starts categorizing them, labeling them as medical and physiological notes in James’ client file in your head. When you eventually get out of the shower you type all of these down in James’ official file on your computer like an actual professional. 

When you finally get in bed, the last thing you do before falling asleep is whispering to the dark ceiling,

“What the fuck?” 

The next morning is stiff and awkward as everyone in the Tower recovers from last night. You are one of the first ones to head down to the common kitchen in search of breakfast as you hadn’t stocked your own kitchen on your floor yet. Getting off the elevator you shuffle in your usual morning lazy way down the hall, make a turn through a doorway to the seating area to see James (surprisingly) walking towards you about to leave. His head snaps up the second your scent caresses his nose.

“Y/n.” James doesn’t say your name like a question, its more like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud at all.   

Wasting no time, you pivot on your heel and start to walk away, ignoring James’ like he wasn’t even there to begin with. 

A warning growl wrenches itself nastily from James’ throat. It cause you stop and raise your eyebrows at the door you just came through. Mild amusement smears across your emotional pallet at James’ attempt to demand acknowledgment from you. He’s gonna have to do a lot more than growl at you to earn your respect. You knowingly let another silent beat go by before you dare his fragile Alpha instincts, and take yet another step away from him.  

Another noise claws its way out of Bucky’s chest, this time its more of an offended snarl than a growl.

You pause once more, but this time slowly turn back around to square the fuck up because last night was an absolute disaster. Bucky is the picture of a disgruntled Alpha (his drunkenness must have somehow cracked open that door Hydra chained up so tight): upper lip curled, teeth bared, shoulders high, fists clenched in deadly balls of bone and metal, heather grey eyes simply on fire. Once your eyes connected with his you kept it and held it firm - relentless. 

After a few moments of intense staring Bucky seems to come out of himself and his wound up expression loosens then drops completely, his eyes mirroring this change and widening out of their glaring slits. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” He stammers as confusion, frustration, then fear quickly overwhelms and devours him whole. “I don’t know where that came from – it was terribly rude,” 

As James continues to blubber and apologize you keep your gaze sharp on his eyes even as they flit insecurely around the room. You stalk towards him with all the grace and stealth of a lioness. He may be a mess, but he’s making progress. His reaction to you ignoring him was that of an Alpha. 

“I’ll never do that again, I just don’t know what I was thinking treating you like that–,” He cuts himself off when he finally braves a glance up at you and realizes you’re not two inches from him. 

By the time he registers the color of your irises you’ve grabbed him by the front of his thick stubbled throat and slammed him hard (similar to how he did to you last night) against the nearest wall, crowding unforgivingly into his personal space with a snarl. 

“You reacted the way you did because you wanted me to respect you,” You purr as you keep your hand the only source of contact between you, and hover your lips just above the cleft of his chin. He was tall goddammit. “And an Omega’s respect is earned and not so easily given, especially to a courting Alpha.” 

The wheels are spinning furiously behind Bucky’s eyes as he digests your words, they widen when you lean even closer and rise on your tip toes to line your faces up. Nose to nose. 

“You are far from being gifted such an honor by me, Alpha.” You spit out his formal rank title like curdled milk on your tongue, not feeling that he’s earned the right to be recognized – acknowledged – as an Alpha yet. 

There is a little anger in your heart at the way Bucky treated you last night, touching you like you were his when he hadn’t earned it, but you are doing all of this not out of a place of malice, no, but out of the will to force Bucky to accept the responsibility of his rank. Alpha, not Beta. You are trying to trigger his instincts but also provide him with answers as to why he feels the way he feels so he has ground to walk on instead of just floating aimlessly in unknown territory. 

This wasn’t Bucky’s fault, he wasn’t like this by his own doing. You had to remind yourself of that. But Alpha’s were severe people, all in their own ways of course, but severe. Bucky shrunk away from strength not because he was scared of it, but because he was scared of himself. Scared of what he was capable of. And by manhandling him and being rough with him, you’re showing him that you can support him. Whatever and however much strength Bucky has, you are strong enough to take it. 

The source of frustration that’s really getting to you though is the potency of his confused emotions and torn heart translates in exact measurement to his pheromones and scent; Bucky’s actually frustrating you on a molecular most basic natural level. As an omega it’s instinct to know who’s who, and Bucky is in between almost, transitioning and its making you uneasy not knowing for sure.  

Bucky looks exactly like he smells, shocked, confused, scared (not of you of course), cautiously offended, and….aroused? You smirk a little when you catch that among the chaos of his overall scent, and pull back from him only to close back in and this time tighten your fingers around his neck. Your eyes hop punishingly to and fro from his and you watch as a slow but sure wrath returns, churns and burns in the cobalt argent molten lava of his irises. 

There you are, you think as you match the growing ire and fury of the manhandled and disrespected Alpha resurfacing in Bucky’s eyes and leaking to contort his facial expression. 

You allow that energy in him to circulate generously through his system, letting him feel it in his blood and settle in his bones, before releasing his neck altogether and dragging your hands down the front of his cotton button-down in a quick sharp swipe, like a cat sharpening its claws on a scratch post. A little hiss slithers up your throat when you step back just as Bucky lurches forward at you, upper lip twitching to curl. 

Not quite there, but his body language is spot on so you give him some slack. 

You send him a quick wink to ease the tension of the moment into a more playful channel, and purposefully show him your back – letting him know you don’t see him as a threat – and swing your hips as you walk away. 

Bucky stares dumbly after you, not quite knowing what just happened but coming to the hesitant conclusion that he was okay with it, maybe even liked it. Liked the feeling of strength and power he used to so strictly associate with Hydra and evil and murder and death. As the aggression leaves him, tiredness takes its place and he sags a little as it trickles out of his system completely. He sighs internally and goes to find Steve. 

Okay so drunk Bucky was literally so fun to write. I hope you guys liked this part! Lemme know if you wanna :) xx

#alpha!bucky #omega!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Opia #Nikki writes #angst #fluff #drunk!bucky

[seanmalatesta]

How to Beat the Holiday Blues

What to Focus on Amidst All the Distractions

Nat King Cole. Pinatas. Swedish meatballs. Ravioli. Gingerbread houses.

These are things that come to mind when I recall my childhood Christmases. One might even say that these are a few of my favorites things, in the words of the old song from “The Sound of Music” that became an unlikely Christmas classic in its own right—a tune I would play every December as a crackly Barbra Streisand record spun on my plastic Fisher Price turntable.

My multicultural Christmases

Eagle-eyed readers might notice that these Christmas favorites draw from disparate traditions. Some are associated with the holiday across the United States. Others not so much. The greater Boston suburbs of my youth were not exactly a hotbed of multicultural diversity.

Yet many a Christmas we would gather in my grandparents’ basement. The children were blindfolded and each given a turn to take a few swings at a freshly made pinata. The papier-mâché creation was actually pretty hard. The task was made more challenging because aunts or older cousins would pull the pinata out of our reach using string.

Oh, by the way: my grandparents were of Italian, English, and Irish ancestry.

No lumps of coal

No matter how difficult, breaking apart the pinata was alway rewarding. Candy would fall to the hard basement floor, scooped up by children already on a sugar high. There would also be small gift-wrapped individual presents we would each grab off the ground, looking for our names. No lumps of coal were ever found therein.

Christmas has always been informed by multiple cultural traditions. This is especially true in the United States. But this Christian holiday commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ comes in completely secularized and commercialized varieties, with wisemen, Santa Claus, reindeer, elves, the Grinch, talking snowmen, and everything in between.

In my family, the menu was similarly wide-ranging. My grandmother made ravioli with spinach and ricotta stuffing on Christmas Eve. It was served with turkey, Swedish meatballs, a wide assortment of homemade cookies and chocolate candies.

Just thinking about it brings to mind a “Sopranos” episode in which Paulie Walnuts describes a New Jersey Italian-American Thanksgiving meal: “Major antipast’ first. Then soup, meatballs and scharol then the baked manigot, then the bird.”

Sounds good to me!

Santa’s overworked helpers

Unfortunately, for some people Christmas is not the happy occasion it is for most who celebrate it. Instead of happy memories of their grandparents’ home, some recall estrangement, sadness and loss.

It may be difficult for them to visit or spend time with their families because of conflicts in the past or present. There may be brokenness or unresolved emotions. Or there may simply be a lot of hardship associated with buying all the gifts on a limited budget, getting those lights to work, finding the decorations in the basement, or putting up the tree.

My father used to reminisce about pouring himself a gin and tonic as he tried to assemble the toys. The instruction manuals were confusing. The pieces were small and hard to fit together. There was not much time before Christmas morning and his children waking up. No one ever said it was easy to be one of Santa’s helpers.

From the ordinary inconveniences of tracking down that scarce shopping mall parking spot while Christmas shopping to the deeper issues of tragedy and loss, Christmas can be stressful for so many. An American Psychological Association survey found that over 40 percent of women and nearly a third of men reported experiencing stress over Christmas.

Indeed, Jennifer Melfi, the fictitious psychiatrist—yes, from “The Sopranos”—dubbed the holiday “Stressmas.” Cute, Tony replied.

Depression is also an issue for people this time of year, especially those longing for the past rather than their present travails. In popular psychology, this has been called the “holiday blues.”

Finding Christmas again

Entering adulthood, it is easy to lose sight of the Christmas season entirely. Yes, you notice the lights and the commercials and the store displays and the holiday tunes playing on the radio. But no vacation from school beckons. The monotony of your work routine takes you right up to Christmas Eve itself.

The fond memories of that come from my childhood holiday traditions remind me of a simpler time, when joy could be found in the little things, even when they might not make sense in a larger context.

What does a snowball have to do with a pinata or the baby Jesus or the songs you know by heart? Nothing—except for happiness.

We can’t go back to our childhood. But something we can do is reclaim our lost joy in simple things.

from Michael Hyatt http://bit.ly/2rSsCiX via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Michael Hyatt

[darbiblog-blog]

Climate concerns fuel more travel to fragile corners of the world

New Post has been published on https://darbi.org/climate-concerns-fuel-more-travel-to-fragile-corners-of-the-world/

Climate concerns fuel more travel to fragile corners of the world

Fun Travel Facts About Singapore

Singapore is an area that lots of us have on our bucket lists. It’s beautiful, it is easy and it is one of those locations that found out the effect that development had completed on their surroundings and they went an extended way to reclaim and repair the location to its original glory. Singapore is also one of the few locations in the global that are a city, a kingdom and a rustic too. What you pick out to call relies upon to your angle. But one element is for certain, with sheer hard paintings and determination, Singapore has made a place for itself in the hearts of people all over the world. Millions of humans all yr round cross visit this area whether the vacations are here or no longer. For anyone around the world trying to have a blast, right here is why you can purchase Singapore Airlines tickets today.

1. The Shopping world fragile Travel Singapore is one of these uncommon places in the international in which you could get hold of some extremely good stuff all 12 months around. So it doesn’t depend if you move within the summers or within the winters, you may nevertheless get a few quite first rate offers so you can satisfy your internal Shopaholic even as being mild to your pocket. Places like the Dower road market are ideal to go to if you’re interested in going on a shopping spree. However, you may also get first rate stuff from the street companies that you may get to see whilst you roam around Singapore.

2. All that Art Despite what you may suppose, Singapore is surely high on the art scene and has some superb artwork galleries with excessive-magnificence collections from International’s well-known artists as well as undiscovered gem stones from the locals as nicely. Aside from this gala’s are also held to promote artwork among the locals as well as sell the neighborhood abilities to a worldwide circle. So if you’re interested in looking at upon a few wonderful portions of artwork then the go to vicinity for you is the Sundaram Tagore Gallery.

Three. The old fashioned neighborhoods One thing about Singapore is which you best get the true revel in of the vicinity is best received if you learn how to discover it strolling. To do that, simply take a tote bag with a few change and start exploring the streets and the quaint and beautiful neighborhoods of Singapore. You’ll probably discover many local delights. Famous locations on the way to win your coronary heart with their delicacy are Chinatown, Dempsey Hill and Tiong Bahru.

4. The out of this international Architecture Singapore is domestic to some of the most splendid modern-day-day architecture which is why it’s far a chief attraction for humans all around the world. If you do not believe it, pass go to it your self.

She Is Fragile, She Is A Rock

I need to were packing, we have been, in the end leaving in 4 days and my condominium seemed exactly the same as it continually did. I loved my condominium in Nashville with the view of the world’s most awesome sunsets, so understandably so, I turned into procrastinating in the most stunning way. I become sitting on my couch looking the entire collection of The Soprano’s and going thru Facebook, and that is once I came throughout this quote via Sylvester McNutt III.

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“She’s seeking to build herself up. Her desires involve adding the fee to different people’s lives due to the fact she is a girl of passion. She’s kind, she’s hard however do not take her for granted; no one is constructed like her. Her aim is to exude love and to give it to every human that she touches. She’s fragile however she’s a rock. Recognize her ability quickly due to the fact she is the full package deal; she is that prepared.” Sylvester McNutt III

I desired the “she” to be me, however, once I study that quote I was sitting on the sofa in tears. I was very a lot trying to construct myself up, however, I preserve stumbling while it came to this flow to Albany. I don’t stumble close to as much as I did in the starting, and I actually have moments once I am excited about the circulate, however then there are days where I need to maintain again the tears. Today become one of these days where I couldn’t preserve them again, and all it took become Rob to say, “Raymond determined someone to buy our scooters.” I try to understand why and what is inflicting me to stumble and it’s miles something exceptional each day, however, it normally continually boils right down to the same issue. Change. Change and how much I hate alternate and right here we are making the hugest of all changes. I know there are a million cliches out there to make you experience better approximately trade, “Nothing is regular however trade”, “When the winds of change blow, a few humans construct walls, and others construct windmills”, “Don’t fear change, embrace it” but I like my life constantly the equal.

When I became speaking to a pal approximately this flow to New York, I started life could be a lot less difficult if I just married an Accountant. There wouldn’t be that awkward stare after I spoke back the question “What does your husband do for a dwelling?” no confusion in any respect with what exactly my husband did for a living. I might adjust my existence to his busy time January through April fifteenth. After tax season, it would be a standard nine to 5, Monday via Friday type of activity. My friend stated “You wouldn’t need to be married to an Accountant; you will be bored from your thoughts. You and your husband work flawlessly collectively they manner matters are now.”

I concept about that for a minute, would I, indeed be bored out of my thoughts? Perhaps, however, it would be regular, and occasionally consistency is ideal. Then I sat and compared exchange and consistency in my head for a minute. Most times consistency is bad and with out alternate, things have a tendency to be dull, stale not to say what it does not do on your creativity. But there are commonly fewer tears with consistency and trade frequently brings me to my knees crying my eyes out.

This morning, as I was sitting on the couch in my apartment 100% NOT packed, I changed into given the option no longer to transport. It wasn’t the right desire and as tons, as I wanted to scream from my balcony, “Yes, I vote not to transport!” And I found myself, another time, repeating “It could be first-class” as though to convince myself of something my core wasn’t so sure of… Once more.

I notion returned to that quote, “She’s fragile, but she’s a rock.” I changed into fragile, I felt so fragile that if a person hugged me, I would possibly shatter, but I am additionally a rock and with my mantra “It may be fine” gambling time and again in my head, I had no other desire, however, to consider it and be that rock. So I grew to become off Tony Soprano and regarded around my condo and commenced to fill the boxes.bing travel predictor for flights,fragile tech n9ne download,new york city police department