#i swear they are my least favorite part of making a male ss

[brooks-in-the-commonwealth]

Whoever designed the jowl sliders in the fallout 4 character creator is fucking evil

[fullmarvelheart]

Crossing Lines (1/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 3,322

Series summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, little bit of angst, slight swearing, slow burn (more to be added as the series progresses)

A/N: I’m finally able to post this today! I’ve been counting down until I could get this out😂 This is the first story that I have written and posted on my Tumblr account. I’m a bit nervous but very excited. I have not entirely proofread this story. Though, I would like to thank my beta reader, Lauren, for all the help and motivation she gave me. The GIF is not mine, credit to the original creator! And a big thank you to the @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ for hosting Mob!Bucky Appreciation Day and inspiring me to post this story.

Series Masterlist

The sharp clicking noise of my heels, followed by the dull thud of several boots, echo on the wooden stairs leading to the basement of my childhood home. I follow the along the long stretch of the twisting hallways until we reach a door that's muffling the slaps and punches behind it. 

One of the men that had met me in the foyer, and had followed me down, knocks twice on the door as I tuck my hand into the back pocket of the curve-hugging black jeans I wore for the day. Moments later, the steel door swings open with a low whine from the give of the rusted hinges. The scent of blood and sweat is the first thing I notice followed by the image of the room. 

Five men stand beyond the doorway. The man who opened the door stands near the edge of steel, gun hanging loosely at his side. Two bodyguards stand in adjacent corners of the room, making sure it’s possible to guard the others with in. Two others, the two most trusted of the household, including the right hand to the leader of the Manhattan Mafia Empire, stand imposingly in front of a man bound to a chair in the center. By the amount of fresh blood dripping onto the floor, this wasn't just some petty offense against the leader. Which draws my attention to the final man, leaning carelessly on a table filled with painful weapons. Nicholas J. Fury, the leader of this mafia clan, and my adopted father. 

"You summoned me from my apartment, Boss?" I say with a smirk while jutting out my hip. 

Phil Coulson, father's righthand, gives me a smirk in return while Maria Hill, his enforcer, just sends a half-hearted glare my way. However, father's face remains neutral.

"I did." He spares me a one-eyed glance. "Tell me what you see?"

I hum in thought to myself as I stalk my way around to see the captive's face. The top half of his once light-colored shirt is now hanging open from being cut by a knife or something similarly sharp. But it's cut open enough to view a tattoo resting on his right breast. 

A red skull surrounded by a halo of octopus tentacles. 

I grunt in distaste. "HYDRA scum."

The man lifts up his bloodied and beaten head to snarl at me. He twists his mouth before lobbing a spit ball at my feet. The glob of mixed spit and blood lands inches from my black, closed-toe heels. 

I scoff at the action and brush my hand into the waistline of my jeans. When I feel the slim metal hilt, I maneuver the object into my palm. With the push of a small button the knife of the switchblade extends before I quickly drive it into his thigh. He screams out in pain as I keep the blade firmly in place. When his screams turn into tired wails of agony, I turn towards my father. 

"Who is he?" I ask, motioning my head towards the man.

"We believe he's behind the hit on George Barnes. Or at least, is attempting to put the blame on us." He explains in his no-nonsense tone. 

My eyes widen in shock, my lips parting slightly. 

"George Barnes was shot at? Is this why I've been called in?" The prisoner painfully chuckles, quietly enough for only me to hear him. 

"He's dead, sweet cheeks." He whispers with a smirk of victory.

I growl at him before twisting my knife and yanking it out while I stand.

"So, why am I here? I assume it's not to attend the funeral because you know I can't. It was just a risk just to even come here." My father gives me a pointed look.  

"I need you to go with them to the warehouse with the prisoner while your siblings and I attend the funeral that's being held in a couple of hours. After the funeral, George's son and I will discuss some business about our alliance with the Brooklyn clan. I'll call you with the details." I nod at his instructions. 

"You know the FBI is going to have me all over this case once they receive word of Barnes’ death, right?" He nods. 

"I'm counting on it." 

"I'll be waiting by the van." I tell him before wiping my knife on the man’s already dirty shirt and tucking the now closed switchblade into the band of my jeans.  

I'm escorted back up the stairs towards the side of the house where the cars sit waiting in father's massive garage. Though the reason for the escort is now clear. My safety. My personal bodyguards, some of my father's most trusted men, meet back up with me to continue through the house. The sounds of nearing footsteps draw my attention to another hallway. My siblings, the twins, round the corner with their own group of bodyguards. 

Wanda, the youngest, according to her brother, is dressed in all black. Appropriate for a funeral. Her brown hair is in casual waves while her makeup is mostly minimally visible. Her natural eyeshadow pairs well with the red lip tint she chose. Her normal red leather jacket is replaced by a similar black one that's draped over a black dress which is cinched at the waist. Her normal array of colorful and seemingly mismatched jewelry has been changed into a long silver chain necklace and a simple dark color bracelet. And to top off the outfit, she put on a pair of high heeled ankle boots. A surprised gasp leaves her lips when she spots me and soon, she's running to me as fast as she can in those heels. Her brother, Pietro, follows not too far behind her. 

Pietro is dressed in a similar fashion. His silver dyed hair is brushed into gentle waves. A black leather jackets lays over a black dress shirt while matching pants and shoes. He also wears a small silver chain with a blue pendant on it. A gift from his twin.

Wanda pulls me into a tight hug with an excited squeal and I laugh, returning her hug with equal excitement.

"Y/N/N what are you doing here?!" She giggles as she pulls back. I laugh while Pietro pulls me into a similar hug. 

"What? Can't an older sister stop by and see her two favorite siblings?" I gasp in mock offense once I'm released from the hug.

"We're your only siblings." Pietro reminds with a roll of his eyes. 

"Besides, being undercover doesn't really allow time for social visits." Wanda points out. I only sigh. Sometimes she's too perceptive. 

"It has to do with Brooklyn doesn't it?" Pietro asks while crossing his arms. As the only male heir of our father, Pietro is often included or informed of current affairs. Again, I sigh in defeat, though I shouldn’t be surprised he knows.  

"Yeah, father called me in. This is a real shit show and I have a feeling this is just the beginning of it." I mutter distastefully.

They both nod in understanding, but Wanda looks equal parts sad and disappointed. But this is our life, we're used to it by now. Even though it's not always what we wish to have.

I gently smile before pulling them both into a big hug. 

"Promise me you two will be careful out there?" Wanda tightens her grip on me. 

"It's not us," She begins slowly. "Who you should be worried about." I chuckle dryly, knowing she's right, as I squeeze her back before pulling away from both of them.

"I suppose not. Still, I do. Now, I need to be going soon. I will see you both later." Pietro nods in acceptance, but Wanda let's her head droop slightly. I give her hand a tight squeeze before me and my bodyguards resume our way to where the cars are. 

I climb back into the car that I came here in, and wait patiently for the driver and everyone to clamber in. The car is started but we remain idling sitting. As a way to occupy myself, I reach into the side door and feel for what I hid in there before I went in. When my fingers brush over the leather holster, I grab it and attach it, and the gun it holds, to a pocket on the inside of my leather jacket. When it's secure, I fold the jacket back over my chest, concealing the firearm in the process. 

A muffled struggle echoes through the once silent garage.

"You want me to take care of that?" I ask the men who sit with me in the car, my fingers brushing over the spot in my jacket where my gun rests. 

"Nah, I'll go check it out." One of my bodyguards, Mackenzie, or Mack as he's called, replies from the passenger seat. 

"Of bloody course you'd be the first one of us lot to check it out." The driver, a Brit, by the name of Hunter scoffs.  

Mack just shakes his head before he opens the door and leaves. When there's a few moments of silence after the car door is shut, that’s when Hunter speaks again. 

"What are the odds of him bringing up something about needing that shotgun-axe again once he gets back in here?"

I chuckle and I see the shoulders of the person next to me move slightly. 

"High." May, the bodyguard next to me and the one that I trust with mostly everything, responds with a slight edge of humor in her voice. Then she turns to me. "Boss, I was going to wait until we cleared the property,-"

"A good idea, May. I don't know much as of now, I can tell you that, but I'll tell the rest once we’re on the move."

She nods and the front passenger door opens at the same time. 

"You'd think the men would know how to handle prisoners, like that one, by now." He grumbles as he settles into his seat. "I swear, one look at a shotgun-axe would scare the life out of those boys. Maybe they'd actually listen to simple instructions at that point."

We all the chuckle as the caravan of cars begins its trip out of the garage and to the warehouse. As we pull down the driveway, I reach into the pocket behind the passenger seat and pull out the object I stashed there and clip it inside my jacket, not too far from my gun. The gold of the badge reflects the light onto the side door while I begin to put on the mask that's essential for my survival out there in this scary world. The letters of F, B, and I revolve in my mind as I stare out the window at my former home. My life is a dangerous one and every aspect has a devastating risk with it.

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

The warehouse is a dark place. Even if there is daylight present, streaming through the dirty frosted windows, a dark and dangerous feeling surrounds the place. It clings to it like the smell of a cigarette on clothes. For newcomers, like the prisoner that followed us in another van just a few behind our own, it's daunting. It's certain death. To me and my bodyguards, only our hairs stand on end in anticipation of what is to come.

I informed my guards of what I knew about the situation on the way here. A reverent silence filled the air at the mention of the late George Barnes' death. He treated his men well, was honest and loyal to his allies, and was a good man. Brooklyn and all of New York will miss him.

I stand in the empty warehouse floor, several paces in front of the unconscious prisoner, who's slumped against his restraints. Turns out the men are really in an impatient mood today. I cross my arms while I zone out observing him. Why did HYDRA do this? What did they gain? What's the bigger picture that I'm missing?  

The faint sound of gravel crunching under tires drags me from my head and has me turning towards the opened garage-looking doors. Three black vans drive in and come to a stop not too far from the entrance. Father and Coulson are the first to step out from the center van. My siblings then file out from the one on the right. The rest of the men who were in the cars climb out and seem to form a barrier between the front entrance and the four people headed straight for me.

"I thought I would be receiving a phone call first." I give father a weary glance, noticing his seriousness about something.

"Change of plans." He answers swiftly, and rather seriously. I begin to grow uncomfortable.

The sound of more approaching vehicles has my eyes widening as I turn my curious and nervous expression on my father who gives me a reassuring nod. 

"Fury." I hiss under my breath, not liking the idea of going into a situation blindly. He simply ignores me.

My focus is drawn back to the entrance as car doors closing harshly sound in my ears, though my gaze never wavers from my father's profile. A cadence of footsteps march across the unpaved driveway and into the warehouse, only pausing in front of the line of father's men. It's only when the footsteps draw nearer that I finally look at the party joining us.

My eyes widen, ever so slightly, at the sight of three imposing men nearing closer to where I stand. The man on my left is tall and broad-chested. His shiny blond hair reflects the dim light of the warehouse. His jawline is clean and sharp like a knife, adding to the dangerous air around him. The man in the center is just slightly shorter than the one on his left. A few strands of his long brown hair frame his face while, I assume, the rest is pulled back. However, the stubble on his face and those piercing blue eyes that I can see, even in the dim warehouse lighting, gives me an idea of who I’m dealing with. James “Bucky” Barnes. A man whose reputation for being a cold-blooded killer and a ladies’ man is very well known. However, any idea of seriousness is completely forgotten when I notice the man on my right, James’ left, who’s giving me a hard scowl. The familiar sight of the deep chocolate brown skin, hard eyes, and black hair puts me at ease. I could almost laugh at the situation.

“Samuel T. Wilson.” I chuckle when I see his eye twitch at the sound of his full name.

The trio stops not too far away from my father’s group and me. The sight of those two chocolate brown eyes, that look like they want to murder me, have me smirking.

“Special Agent Y/L/N of the FBI.” He growls, and I feel the tension in the room immediately spike. “I thought I saw the last of ya when I was let go.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way.” Wilson scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. I also notice Barnes shifting in my periphery and sigh to myself as I think of how to reword things. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been let go so easily. There wasn’t any substantial evidence against you, but the other agents were going to keep you locked up to send a message. I let it slip to our boss, and he had a big problem with what they were doing. You were let free not too long after. So quit looking like you want to kill me, and maybe offer a ‘thank you’ instead.”

He goes to speak, but that’s when father decides to step in.

“Gentlemen, we came here to discuss a business transaction, not hash out the past. If you three would, follow me. Agent, you too. Son, keep the rest of our guests some company.” There are a series of soft grumbles and complaints, but ultimately, everyone listens.

When the three Brooklyn boys pass the now awake prisoner, his face turns a scary shade of white. And that’s considering the fact that he was already pale due to blood loss. I feel a shiver begin to creep down my spine, but I suppress it. I tell myself it’s because of the type of fear these men can instill, but deep down, I know that it was a low growl I heard somewhere over my shoulder.

Father takes us to one of the few offices in the warehouse and has me shut the door. Barnes sits in the chair across from Fury with both his men flanking either side of him. The only person at my father’s side is Coulson on the right, until I walk up to the vacant spot on my father’s left.

“I think proper introductions should be made before we begin talks.”

“I agree.” Barnes cuts in. “I didn’t realize this meeting would include a dirty Fed.”

I scoff but am interrupted before I can make any smart remark.

“This, gentlemen, is my eldest child. Y/N was the first I adopted and raised in this life. The only reason she is in the FBI is to help us deal with HYDRA.”

“HYDRA is everywhere.” I start explaining. “Like cockroaches in an old building. The only way to make sure every loose end has been tied up is to have all the information. There’s no better way to do it.”

“Hold up. I thought your last name was ‘Y/L/N’.” This time, Wilson interrupts.

“A cover, obviously. If the FBI learned of my ties to the Underworld or to my father, it would be worse than if they thought I was just corrupt.”

“The point is that Y/N will be passing on any information she learns about HYDRA and their plot.”

“I’ll also be keeping a very close eye on anything that may have to do with what happened to your father.” At the mention of him, I see James’ lips twitch slightly while the furrow of his brow deepens. “I am sorry for what happened to him. Your father was a great and very well-respected man.”

The only sign of acknowledgement I get from the new leader of the Brooklyn clan is a slight nod of his head, and I begin to grow uncomfortable in the silence that follows. Luckily, a phone ringing stops the awkwardness from becoming worse. However, it’s not just any phone. It’s my phone. I quickly snatch it from one of the pockets of my leather jacket and glance at the screen.

“It’s my boss.” I inform before answering. “This is Y/L/N. Yes, sir. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” He hangs up. “I’m being called in. Send me the rest of the details later.” My father nods as he motions for me to leave. Before I do, I look over the three new faces and say in the most professional tone I can gather, “It was nice to properly meet you, gentlemen. I look forward to working with you.”

Without waiting for a reply from one of my father’s, hopefully, new allies to say anything, I hurry around the desk and out of the office. Once Hunter receives the word to get the car ready, I tuck my phone away again.

As I leave the warehouse, goosebumps prickle my skin. Not because it’s cold, or because I’m scared, but because of the pressure that’s suddenly fallen around my shoulders. This attack, this changes everything. HYDRA has always threatened the clans, carried out small or petty attacks, but they have never directly attacked the families. The death of George Barnes is only the catalyst. 

A war is coming, and blood will be spilled. But how prepared am I for what I expect to come?

Part 2

[crystalelemental]

Shoutouts to whoever had the free time to structure this monstrosity.  Worst part is, they included all the Eggmons, and differentiated the base and EX form of every unit with that option, so it took forever to sort all of these.  On that note.

The above is a subjective ranking of these units, based on my enjoyment of using them.  This has almost nothing to do with their general performance as a unit, although obviously if they’re really good and I like them that doesn’t hurt.  This is more about who I enjoy bringing to matches.  I excluded units I don’t have, so if you’re wondering where some of them are, I don’t have them.  That said, please note that a few made it in on the anticipation that I’ll be getting them this month, and are placed based on how excited I am for their appearance.

S: I just realized Cyrus is the only male character in this entire tier, and it’s partly because I love Darkrai and the concept of them being a pair so much.  Yeah, I am the Gacha Problem.  Anyway, these are the absolute favorites; the units I actively search out every week in Champion Stadium and aim to make part of the run.  Perhaps you’ve seen them over and over in my off-type clears, which I do like once a week.  I can promise you, once Cynthia is with me, she’ll be part of this.  I’ll candy Ingo if I have to, I fucking swear I’ll do it.

A: Usually units I use in tandem with the huge favorites, these are the go-tos when I need someone else to clear, or if I’m looking to shake things up by not relying on the same few teams again.  Honestly you’ve probably seen them do a lot of off-type stuff too.  I tend to love these pairs as well, just not quite as much as the absolute favorites who are a delight.  Caitlin’s the best example of this being “I just love the unit so much” more than actual performance.  She’s really not that great, but I do, in fact, love her so much.

B: We’re still in the “use them pretty often” phase, but getting a bit more niche.  These are units that are not often sought out, but are brought up periodically because I like them well enough and it can be fun to experiment.  Alternatively, units who are stupid good and useful, but who aren’t really the favorite so much as a facilitator of a favorite that works really, really well.  Classic Elesa’s the best example.  Not a favorite on her own, I’d love to have a debuffer that works as well as she does but isn’t her, but until that happens she’s the optimal partner for Champion Iris so here we go.

C: We’re starting to lose the edge of favoritism, but I’ll work with them where I can if it’s part of a fun strategy.  Elio’s probably the best example.  He’s solid for when he’s brought along, but he’s not one I seek out and isn’t exactly a favorite, I just think he’s got some quirky tools that can make him interesting.

D: This is where I really start to lose interest.  I may still use them because they have a really useful option in their kit, but I’m not, like, happy about it.  Falkner’s a good example.  Dude’s fantastic as a buffer, but man I don’t really care that it’s Falkner.

E: And now we enter “I’ll use them under duress.”  In most situations, this is a matter of not caring about the character or the Pokemon, sometimes both.  But in some cases, it’s literally just that they are so bad that I can’t be asked to even try for them.  Sorry, Cheren and Glacia.  Note that, despite using Lucas pretty regularly, I would give anything to put Dialga, my favorite of the Celestial Dragons, with anyone other than him.  But Dragon Zone is too useful to drop his ass to F-tier, so here he goes I guess.

F: I do not like these units, and I’m not happy when I have to use them.  These are situations where I wish it were, like, anyone else.  There’s exactly one unit down here who shouldn’t be, and it’s SS Brock, but he’s another “So awful it’s not worth trying,” and I’m just not invested enough in Brock to even pull him up to E-tier, where I’d at least entertain the notion of using him in Gauntlet.  At least he and Hapu have hope for a grid to make their playstyle more exciting.

[redscharms]

Going solo was Wonho's own decision or he didn't have an option to rejoin Mx

Alright I have to be honest here and before I go straight to the reading I want to say few things.

Lately I’ve been very confused with Hoseok’s readings and I feel weird. I’ve always seen him as a very sweet, kind person. His energy was always so soft and warm. He has a very kind heart and despite not knowing him well I felt that all that happened to him was so unfair and cruel that it made me join the fandom to help in any way I can. When he left Monsta X I still barely knew them and the mere thought of him being treated so unfair infuriated me. When I decided that I wanna help even though I can’t really be classified as a ‘k-pop fan’ (If I like the song then I like the song I don’t care what genre or language it is) I didn’t care that it was Wonho or that it was Monsta X. I just wanted to help fight against the injustice and the mistreatment of a very sincere and kind human being. I honestly really really don’t like the industry. I strongly dislike everything about the idol culture and how they are made property of their companies and their fans; I feel disgusted by the beauty ‘standards’; I am appalled by the hate the artists received from entitled ‘fans’. I feel very conflicted supporting my favorite artists because on one hand I really wanna see them succeed but on the other I hate contributing to this horrendous industry.

So when I saw the hate Wonho received because of some rumors I felt heartbroken. I don’t lie to myself and I don’t see male idols as some magical creatures that smell like roses and eat rainbows and dew drops. I’m very well aware that they are normal people who drink beer, swear, have their personality outside the one the company created for them, are not innocent and have a free will of their own. Thankfully. Because the image companies create for idols (some of whom are already in their thirties but are still forced to dress up like middle schoolers at times) sometimes makes me feel... well a bit uncomfortable. And I don’t have anything against males wearing makeup or clothes that western society might deem as not ‘masculine enough’ because f*** that make up and clothes have nothing to do with gender. It’s the overall image the companies create, making idols look like they are so innocent that it borderlines on clueless naivety.

And even though I’m not seeing male idols as innocent little daisies, I always felt like Hoseok was very honest and... well. Pure.

Emotionally-wise. I don’t doubt his sincerity when he speaks to fans. His smile, his tears, his love and appreciation for his fans feels real and honest. He was living for what he was doing and to think that because of some stupid rumors he was robbed of that, made my blood boil. This shameful mentality is something I’ll never understand and never accept and I don’t care if people want to call me racist for saying that. Because I don’t think that shaming and destroying someone’s life and reputation should be accepted in any culture and I was glad to see people standing against that.

And now after all of this I feel like something has changed in Wonho. It feels like a part of him broke and now the sharp edge is scratching the open wound. I’m not saying it’s how it is. It’s not part of any reading or anything. It’s my personal perception. These are my feelings and because of that I don’t know how comfortable am I doing any reading regarding his decision to go solo. I don’t want to accidentally project my thoughts into the reading.

Even when I look at his photos now I feel some sadness. I really hope it’s just him being tired which obviously isn’t good either but at least it’s the lesser evil.

So why I’m writing all that. I want to be honest about my feelings towards the K-pop industry and SS is part of that industry. They are not inherently evil and I’m not gonna trash them because they’re regular workers doing the job and it’s not just their fault but I’m not trusting them either. They are what every other show business industry is at the end of a day. A money making business. Nothing more and nothing less. But I have a very strong disgust towards the industry as a whole and I feel it might affect the way I’m reading the cards. My dislike for it is still very strong after all the events that happened.

I will still post the reading but I’ll just describe and explain the cards and let you decide how you feel about it. Because I don’t feel like I can trust my gut feeling on this one yet.

If you read until this point, thank you for you attention.

Red