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svt-luna · 2 months

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╰ ᥫ᭡. ⋆· ˚ ༘ * SEVENTEEN LUNA FILES

Bae Jiyeon ❨ 배지연; born January 30, 1997 ❩ known mononymously as Luna, is a Korean-English singer. Born and raised in Kensington, London, United Kingdom. Luna lived in the United Kingdom for fourteen years before returning to South Korea in 2011. She is a member of the South Korean co-ed band SEVENTEEN and its fixed sub-group the Vocal Team.

╰ ౨ৎ BASICS

Birth Name: Bae Ji-Yeon ❨ 배지연 ❩

English Name: Luna Bae

Stage Name: Luna

Birthdate: January 30, 1997

Birthplace: Kensington, London, United Kingdom

Nationality: Korean-English

Ethnicity: Korean

Spoken Languages: Korean ❨ fluent ❩, English ❨ fluent + English accent ❩, Japanese ❨ intermediate ❩

╰ ౨ৎ ARCHETYPES

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Chinese Zodiac Sign: Ox

MBTI: INTJ

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Godly Parent: Hades

╰ ౨ৎ PHYSICAL

Height: 169cm ❨ 5’6" ❩

Weight: 43kg ❨ 94lbs ❩

Blood Type: O+

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Body Modifications:

Piercings: Lobe ❨ 3 on each ear ❩, Conch ❨ right ear ❩, Helix ❨ 2 on each ear ❩, Flat ❨ left ear ❩, Tragus ❨ both ears ❩, Rook ❨ both ear ❩, Daith ❨ right ear ❩, Forward Helix ❨ right ear ❩, and Belly button piercing

Tattoos: The number 17 ❨ side of right wrist — dedicated to the band ❩, Crescent moon ❨ side of left wrist — dedicated to her name ‘Luna’ ❩, The letter J in cursive ❨ inside her left ring finger — her initial from her name ‘Jiyeon’ but some fans theorize it’s for ‘Jeonghan’ ❩, A ribbon/bow ❨ on the back of her right hand — her trademark love for ribbons and bows ❩, ‘Lady of the Moon’ calligraphy ❨ by her right rib cage — a nod to her name once more ❩, ‘eventually’ calligraphy ❨ inside her right middle finger — just like she said, “Eventually everything that is for me will come.” ❩, and ‘lovebug’ calligraphy ❨ on the back of her neck — the nickname her grandparents had given her ❩

Unique Features: Dimple on right cheek, piercing siren eyes ❨ cat-eye/ foxy shaped ❩, beauty mark on right cheekbone and left cheek, smirk smile

Medical Conditions: Anemic and has a former collarbone fracture caused after falling during a ballet routine when she was 10 years old

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA CLAIMS

Face Claim: Jang Wonyoung ❨ IVE ❩

Singing Voice: IU

Speaking Voice: Jang Wonyoung ❨ has a naturally deep voice when she speaks, however gets higher when she whines and unironically and unknowingly does aegyo ❩

Dance Style: Momo ❨ TWICE ❩ — SEVENTEEN performances, Kazuha ❨ LE SSERAFIM ❩ — Ballet performances

╰ ౨ৎ PERSONALITY

MBTI: INTJ ❨ The Architect ❩

Personality Traits: As an INTJ, often referred to as ‘The Architect’, Luna embodies a unique blend of intelligence, strategic thinking, and an independent spirit. Her personality reflects a deep understanding of the world around her, often viewing situations through a logical and analytical lens. This makes her an exceptional problem-solver, able to assess challenges and devise effective solutions with ease.

Growing up in Kensington, London, Luna was immersed in a world of creativity and intellect. As an only child of a retired ballerina and an anthropologist, she was exposed to the arts and sciences from a young age. Her mother encouraged her to pursue ballet, starting lessons at the age of three. This early training not only honed her physical abilities but also instilled in her a sense of discipline and dedication. However, Luna often felt the pressure to excel, which led to her developing a strong work ethic and perfectionist tendencies.

Despite her outward confidence, Luna struggled with feelings of isolation. Her intimidating features and talent sometimes made it hard for her to connect with her peers, leading her to seek solace in books, art, and music. These experiences nurtured her introspective side, allowing her to develop a rich inner world filled with creativity and imagination.

During her training period, Luna’s INTJ traits truly shone. Her analytical mind enabled her to quickly grasp complex choreography and vocal techniques, allowing her to excel in evaluations. She was often dubbed the ‘Ace’ among her fellow trainees for her versatility and ability to adapt to various tasks effortlessly. However, this did not come without challenges; she faced moments of great pressure to live up to the title and of self-doubt, particularly in a competitive environment where she felt the weight of expectations.

Luna’s leadership qualities emerged during her training, as she often took the initiative to help fellow trainees improve. Her strategic mindset allowed her to navigate the often chaotic training schedule, and she quickly learned to manipulate situations to her advantage, especially during group activities or evaluations. While she maintained a somewhat aloof demeanor, her ability to connect with her peers through shared interests— such as crafts with Joshua or dance challenges with Hoshi— showed her capacity for forming meaningful relationships.

Now as a world known idol, Luna’s INTJ personality manifests in her strong presence and charisma on stage. She is known for her meticulous approach to performances, carefully analyzing each aspect of her shows to ensure they are executed flawlessly. Her strategic thinking allows her to anticipate audience reactions, making her a master at captivating crowds.

Luna’s intelligence also extends to her interactions with fans and the media. She navigates interviews and public appearances with ease, often using her wit and charm to leave a lasting impression. However, she remains somewhat guarded, finding it challenging to open up fully about her feelings, particularly in the context of her somewhat complicated relationship with Jeonghan.

While she is often seen as intimidating due to her ‘resting bitch face’, those who take the time to know her discover her warmth and loyalty. She is protective of her fellow members, particularly the youngest ones, and values the deep connections she has formed within the group. Luna’s ability to balance her independent spirit with her caring nature makes her a unique and multi-faceted character in the K-Pop industry.

Positive Traits: Independent, disciplined, versatile, charismatic, protective, strategic, analytical, ambitious, intelligent, loyal

Negative Traits: Perfectionist, aloof, stubborn, overly critical, reserved

╰ ౨ৎ HISTORY

1997-2011: Luna was born in Kensington, London, into a well-off family that nurtured her artistic inclinations. Her mother, a retired ballerina, introduced her to the world of dance, leading Luna to begin ballet training at the tender age of three. This early exposure fostered her love for performing arts and instilled a strong work ethic in her. Academically gifted, she attended Southbank International School Kensington, where she excelled in her studies and developed a deep passion for music. Despite her wonderful childhood, Luna often felt isolated due to her personality, seeking solace in her artistic pursuits and immersing herself in the creativity that surrounded her.

2011-2012: At the age of fourteen, Luna made the pivotal decision to move back to Seoul, South Korea, to pursue her dream of becoming an idol. This transition marked a significant change in her life, as she entered the competitive world of K-Pop. She initially trained at YG Entertainment for a year, where she faced the rigors of idol training and learned to adapt to the intense environment. Throughout this time, she was constantly approached by PLEDIS Entertainment, a smaller company that offered her a chance to further her dreams. After much consideration, Luna trusted her instincts and made the bold decision to switch companies, believing it would ultimately lead her closer to her goals. She has mentioned in an interview that her leaving a huge and well known company for a smaller one was one of the riskiest thing she has ever done and yet she does not regret it.

2013-2015: Luna trained for another two years at PLEDIS Entertainment, honing her skills as a lead vocalist in preparation for her debut. During this time, she faced various challenges, including rigorous practice schedules and the pressure to excel among her peers. However, her determination and talent shone through, allowing her to form strong bonds with the other trainees. She was supposed to either debut in a girl group or as a solo artist, however, in 2015, Luna finally achieved her dream of debuting as a member of the co-ed band SEVENTEEN, alongside thirteen talented male members. This milestone marked the beginning of her journey in the spotlight, showcasing her versatility and dedication as an artist.

2015-Present: Since her debut, Luna's life as an idol has been a rollercoaster ride filled with both challenges and triumphs. She has navigated the ups and downs of the entertainment industry, facing public scrutiny and the pressures of fame. Despite these obstacles, the joy of being with her fellow members, whom she considers family, has been a constant source of strength. Together, they have achieved remarkable success, creating unforgettable memories and sharing their passion for music with fans worldwide. Luna's perseverance and commitment to her craft continue to drive her as she embraces the journey of an idol, always striving to achieve her goals and dreams.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3

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swappetf11 · 4 months

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Agent Nathanial Ford's next mission represents one of the most intricate and prolonged undercover operations of his career, spanning several years. Selected for his remarkable skills in disguise and his striking resemblance to the target, his transformation into this new identity involves both cutting-edge technology and meticulous physical alterations.

Background of the Mission: The individual Nathanial is set to replace has been held under the guise of incarceration within a witness protection program. This man, known publicly as Marco Silvestri, has crucial ties to an international crime syndicate and is pivotal for gathering intelligence on their operations. The plan is to release "Marco" from prison—actually Nathanial, fully transformed and equipped with Marco's memories and mannerisms.

Transformation Details:

Facial Hair and Hair: As Marco is known for his distinctive thick mustache and a soul patch, Nathanial ceases shaving to allow his facial hair to grow into the required style. Concurrently, he grows out his hair to Marco's length, which is naturally black and slightly unkempt. Regular trims ensure that as it grows, it perfectly matches Marco's hairstyle.

Dental Alterations: To match Marco’s dental records, Nathanial undergoes specific modifications. This includes dental caps and slight realignments to ensure his bite and smile mirror Marco's exactly, a critical factor for close acquaintances and medical examinations.

Facial Structure Enhancements: Injected fillers are used strategically in Nathanial's brows and jawline. These fillers are not only about altering his silhouette but are crafted to dissolve slowly over time, maintaining the structure for the duration of the long mission. The brow fillers give him a more pronounced, rugged look, while the jaw fillers broaden his face to match Marco's distinct angular features.

Technology Integration: In an unprecedented move, the CIA employs a new neuro-integration technology that transfers memory and personality traits from Marco to Nathanial. This process, taking place over several months, is carefully monitored to ensure a seamless integration of Marco’s experiences and behavioral nuances into Nathanial. It involves a combination of virtual reality, neural mapping, and continuous psychological support to help Nathanial assimilate these new memories without losing his own identity.

During this period, Nathanial undergoes intensive study sessions mimicking Marco’s life experiences, supported by VR scenarios that replicate key moments of Marco's life. This dual approach ensures that Nathanial not only remembers Marco's past as if it were his own but also adopts his mannerisms, responses, and even subconscious behaviors.

As the memory transfer concludes and the physical transformation solidifies, Nathanial gradually becomes indistinguishable from Marco Silvestri. This deep cover operation places him directly in the heart of the criminal syndicate, tasked not only with gathering critical intelligence but also with maintaining his cover over several years, navigating the dangerous waters of international crime while preserving the persona of Marco without a trace of Nathanial Ford.

As the transformation from Nathanial to Marco deepened, the two men shared more than just appearances and memories; they shared moments that solidified the persona Nathanial was adopting. During their sessions together, Marco introduced Nathanial to the intricate world of tobacco—its cultivation, its varieties, and the art of rolling cigarillos. Smoking together became a ritual, where the smoke seemed to carry not just the flavor of the tobacco but also the weight of Marco's life and secrets.

Nathanial's daily routines began to mirror those of Marco's. He adopted the habit of sipping fine whiskey in the evenings, letting its rich, smoky flavor remind him of the tobacco fields. The transformation was no longer just physical but sensory and emotional. He found himself drawn to the thrill of horse racing, an interest Marco held close to his heart. Riding horses, once a novel activity, became a passion, a symbol of freedom and power—qualities that Marco embodied.

As weeks turned into months, Nathanial’s transformation became profound. His speech, once clear and direct, now carried the lilting nuances of Marco’s diction. Every word, every gesture, and every preference was no longer Nathanial’s but those of Marco. The lines between the agent and the persona blurred, signaling that the mission was not just about infiltration but a complete metamorphosis into another man's life and legacy. Nathanial, now fully emerged as Marco, was ready to step into the world under his new identity, armed with the memories and habits of the man he was meant to replace.

Agent Nathanial Ford, now fully transformed into Marco Silvestri, stood before the mirror in his prison cell, the final night before his planned release. Over the past year, he had undergone a profound metamorphosis, not just in appearance but in spirit. The story crafted for his cover was that Marco had spent a year in solitary confinement for his protection, a narrative that explained any changes or gaps in behavior noticed by old acquaintances upon his release. The last few months were spent in general population to acclimate him to interacting as Marco among other inmates.

Dressing as Marco: The night before his release, Nathanial dressed in what would be Marco’s signature look upon stepping back into the free world—a Western-inspired outfit that spoke volumes of the man he now was. His attire consisted of a rugged denim shirt, tucked into dark, distressed jeans, held up with a leather belt boasting an ornate, oversized buckle. Over this, he wore a suede vest, adding a touch of rough elegance. His boots, custom-made, were of worn leather with intricate stitching and slightly pointed toes, clicking softly on the concrete floor as he moved.

Facial Hair: His mustache, now long and thick, was a prominent feature that he groomed with wax into a handlebar style. When not styled, it hung heavily over his upper lip, a constant presence that had taken him months to get used to—especially the itching. His soul patch was equally thick and meticulously groomed, adding to the rugged charisma of his new persona. Smoking had become a habitual act, and as he drew on his cigarillo, the smoke curled around his facial hair, the mustache resting snugly against the burning roll, a sensory reminder of his transformation.

The Final Night: In the dim light of his cell, Nathanial, now more Marco than ever, studied his reflection. The rugged lines of his face, the dark eyes that had seen a year's worth of solitary confinement, all echoed Marco's hardened resilience. Tomorrow, he would don the bright orange of jail attire, but tonight, he was every inch the persona he had crafted and grown into.

The transformation was complete. As he turned away from the mirror, Nathanial felt a pang of the persona he had left behind, a necessary sacrifice for the success of his mission. The next day, as he would walk through the prison gates, the world would not see an undercover CIA agent but Marco Silvestri, a man reborn from the ashes of his supposed confinement, ready to reclaim his place in a world that was both familiar and vastly unknown.

As Marco Silvestri—formerly Agent Nathanial Ford—stepped out of the prison gates, the warm sunlight marked his first moments of freedom. Waiting just beyond the high fences and barbed wire was a small crowd of people, those who once knew him as Marco and were now eager to welcome him back into their lives.

The group was a mix of old friends, distant relatives, and a few cautious associates from Marco's past life in the underworld. They clustered around him, their faces a blend of curiosity and concealed joy, each person unsure how prison might have changed him.

Marco’s first steps toward them were hesitant, each footfall echoing the weight of the persona he carried. His appearance had been meticulously curated to match the Marco they remembered: the thick handlebar mustache, the rugged Western attire, and the confident, slightly swaggering gait. As he approached, smiles broke out among the crowd, and a few hands reached out to clap him on the back, welcoming him with a warmth that was tinged with an unspoken tension.

His sister, Elena, pushed through the crowd, her expression one of relief mixed with concern. She embraced him tightly, whispering words of welcome and a promise that everything was going to be alright. Marco returned her hug, allowing himself a moment of human connection, feeling the familiarity of her presence. This was part of the role, yet it felt deeply personal, blurring the lines between his mission and the reality of the relationships Marco had cultivated.

A barbecue had been arranged at a nearby friend’s house, a casual setting meant to ease Marco back into social circles. The smell of grilled meats and the sound of laughter created a semblance of normalcy. As Marco mingled, his training kept him alert to the subtleties of conversation, watching for signs of suspicion or recognition that he was not the Marco they once knew.

Throughout the afternoon, Marco played his part flawlessly, recounting sanitized tales of prison life that explained his absence without revealing too much. He joked about the prison food and how he had missed real coffee, creating a narrative that was both believable and disarming.

As the sun set, Marco found himself alone for a moment, looking out over the small, assembled crowd. They were laughing and sharing stories, a picture of community and continuity. But beneath the surface, Marco knew the stakes were high. Every interaction was a test, and his true mission—to infiltrate deeper into the criminal network—was just beginning.

Feeling the weight of his disguise, Marco allowed himself a moment of introspection. Was he Nathanial, the skilled CIA agent, or was he truly becoming Marco? The lines were fading, and as the evening drew on, he realized that his greatest challenge might not be in keeping his cover, but in holding on to his own identity beneath the layers of Marco Silvestri’s rugged exterior.

Months after his release from prison, Marco Silvestri—formerly Agent Nathanial Ford—had woven himself deeply into the local community and the intricate web of criminal activity that underpinned it. His integration was almost seamless, aided by his genuine love for horses, a passion that had grown from a mere cover story into a significant part of his daily life.

Marco had become a regular at the nearby stables, where he spent hours not just riding, but also learning about horse breeding and care. His natural affinity for the animals won him the respect and camaraderie of others in the equestrian community, many of whom were indirectly linked to the criminal syndicate he was investigating. These connections provided him with a natural inroad to gather intelligence, as conversations often flowed freely during long rides or while tending to the horses.

His mornings were usually spent at the stables, grooming and riding, followed by afternoons filled with visits to various local businesses and social gatherings that often included members of the syndicate. It was during these casual interactions that Marco was able to glean valuable insights into their operations—discussions on smuggling routes disguised as trade talks, or whispered negotiations about illegal arms hidden beneath the mundane chatter about horse races.

As Marco's understanding of the syndicate's activities deepened, so did his involvement with the horses. He had even started to rehabilitate a troubled horse, using techniques he had picked up from fellow equestrians. The horse, once skittish and unruly, had begun to trust him, mirroring the way the community, unaware of his true identity, had come to accept him as one of their own.

Yet, even as his affection for the horses and the community grew, so did the complexity of his mission. He was constantly balancing his emotional connections with the need to maintain professional detachment. The horses became his solace, a place where he could escape the duplicitous nature of his work and find a moment of peace.

The evenings were often spent in dimly lit rooms or around backroom tables where the real business took place. Here, Marco had to switch gears, engaging in the subtle dance of negotiation and information gathering. Each piece of intelligence he collected was carefully encoded and passed on to his handlers, all while maintaining the affable facade of Marco the horse enthusiast.

As months turned into a year, the lines between Nathanial and Marco blurred ever more indistinctly. He was deeply embedded, not just within the syndicate but within the fabric of a life that was increasingly difficult to separate from his own. Each decision, each relationship now carried the weight of both his mission and his emerging identity, challenging him to navigate a path that was fraught with both danger and unexpected alliances.

Two years later, Marco Silvestri—once known as Agent Nathanial Ford—had firmly established himself not just within the local equestrian community, but also as a seemingly indispensable figure within the criminal syndicate. His dual life was now more complex and entangled than ever, blending his undercover mission with elements of the life he had constructed.

Life in the Syndicate: Marco's deep integration into the syndicate allowed him to rise in its ranks, gaining access to the inner circle of leadership. His role in logistics and strategy, originally a cover, became a critical component of the syndicate's operations. He orchestrated elaborate schemes under the guise of horse trading and equestrian events, which cleverly masked the syndicate's illegal activities. This position gave him unprecedented access to confidential meetings and plans, which he discreetly relayed back to his CIA handlers.

Community Ties: In the local community, Marco was now a respected figure, known for his charitable contributions and for reviving local equestrian competitions. His passion for horses was genuine and gave him a semblance of peace amidst the chaos of his undercover life. He had even started a small foundation to support young riders from less privileged backgrounds, further cementing his local persona as a benefactor and horse lover.

Emotional Challenges: The emotional toll of his long-term undercover work was significant. Marco found himself increasingly conflicted, as he formed real friendships and even romantic interests within the community. The blurred line between his role and his real self made it difficult to remain detached. The relationships he built, based on a persona crafted for infiltration, were genuine to those involved, leading to a complex web of emotions and loyalties.

Operational Complications: As Marco's influence grew, so did the stakes. He was now involved in planning operations that could have severe consequences if executed. The moral implications of his decisions began to weigh heavily on him, knowing that his actions, though necessary for his cover, could impact many innocent lives. He had to navigate these challenges while maintaining the trust of both his criminal associates and his real employers.

As the years passed, the lines between Nathanial Ford and Marco Silvestri blurred irreversibly. The once clear-cut boundaries of his mission had faded, replaced by a complex tapestry of relationships and responsibilities that anchored him deeply in his assumed identity. Marco was no longer just a role played by a skilled CIA agent; he had become a lived experience, filled with connections that shaped his daily life.

Deepening Relationships: Marco's relationships had evolved significantly. He had lovers from various walks of life, men and women with whom he shared genuine affection and intimacy. These relationships, while part of his deep cover, had grown into real emotional bonds. Children born from these liaisons looked up to him as a father, adding layers of domestic life that he had never anticipated when he first took on the assignment.

Fading CIA Ties: The regular debriefings with his CIA handlers had become less frequent and perfunctory. The pragmatic agent who had meticulously reported every detail was now a man who shared only what was necessary, guarding the privacy and sanctity of the personal life he had built. The operational objective remained, but it was now filtered through the perspective of a man deeply integrated into the community he was supposed to surveil.

Emotional Conflict: Marco's emotional landscape was complex. Each day he faced the dichotomy of living a life that was both a fabrication and his reality. The moral implications of his actions, the lives affected by his decisions, and the futures he had helped shape—all weighed heavily on him. The detachment taught and reinforced by years of CIA training was eroding, replaced by a visceral connection to his role as Marco.

Operational Challenges: The operational challenges had also morphed. Marco was now a key player in the syndicate, involved in strategic decisions and privy to sensitive information. His role had expanded beyond intelligence gathering to active participation, complicating any plans for extraction or mission conclusion without significant repercussions.

Future Uncertainty: Looking forward, Marco faced the daunting task of reconciling his duties with his desires. The impending endgame of his mission loomed large, threatening to upend the life he had built. He needed to devise a strategy that protected his loved ones, dismantled the criminal elements he had infiltrated, and allowed him to either safely extract himself or continue living the life of Marco Silvestri.

As Marco gazed into the future, the choices before him were as challenging as they were unclear, each path fraught with personal and professional peril. The agent known as Nathanial Ford had faded into the background, overshadowed by the very life he had crafted as his disguise.

A decade into his mission, Marco Silvestri—once known as Agent Nathanial Ford—had not only infiltrated but was now leading the criminal syndicate. The lines between his original mission and the life he had built were not just blurred; they were erased. His loyalty to the CIA had dwindled over the years, overshadowed by the bonds and obligations he had formed within the syndicate and the community.

Twist in the Story: On a seemingly ordinary day, as Marco was overseeing operations at one of the syndicate’s warehouses, a new figure entered the scene. This man, appearing inconspicuous yet carrying a certain air of authority, requested a meeting with Marco. His features were hard to place, altered by expert plastic surgery, but his eyes held a familiar sharpness. This man was the real Marco, the one who had been hidden away under witness protection, now standing in front of the man who had stolen his life.

Confrontation and Revelation: The real Marco had undergone extensive surgery to change his appearance as part of the witness protection program. His return was motivated by rumors that his identity had been usurped, his life continued by someone else. As he confronted the man who had been living as him, there was a palpable tension in the air.

The encounter was fraught with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. The real Marco, now with a new face and identity, explained how he had been informed by a rogue CIA contact about the operation. He had lived in obscurity, believing his past life erased, only to discover it continued by another.

Marco Silvestri’s Dilemma: For the man known as Marco Silvestri, the appearance of his original self was a shock that threatened to unravel everything. He had to grapple with the reality of his existence: was he Nathanial, the CIA agent, or Marco, the syndicate leader? His identity crisis deepened as he faced the man whose life he had mirrored for a decade.

Strategic Decisions: The meeting between the two Marcos led to a clandestine agreement. The real Marco proposed a partnership rather than a confrontation. His years in hiding had changed him, embittering him against the authorities who had used his life as leverage. He suggested using their unique situation to their advantage, manipulating both the criminal underworld and law enforcement.

Dual Leadership: As they combined forces, the two men—each a version of Marco Silvestri—began to run the syndicate with a dual strategy. They exploited their identical backgrounds and shared knowledge to expand operations, all while maintaining a delicate balance between their personal vendettas and their goals within the syndicate.

Future Uncertainty: The future was uncertain for both men. Each day brought with it the risk of their true identities being exposed, of betrayals from within and without. Yet, they continued, driven by a mix of necessity and the thrill of the unparalleled game they were now playing. The blend of their lives—once so distinct—had created a new reality that neither could have predicted, a life where they were both Marco Silvestri, yet neither could claim to be the true one alone.

The real Marco Silvestri's transformation under witness protection was extensive and designed to obliterate any resemblance to the man he once was. His journey began with a series of surgeries and modifications that not only altered his appearance but also his physical presence in any space.

Weight Gain: To change his silhouette and the way he carried himself, Marco underwent a controlled diet that led to significant weight gain. This was not just about adding pounds but strategically altering his physique to change the way he moved and how clothes fit him, making him appear broader and more imposing than before.

Jaw and Chin Enhancements: Critical to changing his facial structure were the surgeries on his jaw and chin. His jawline was altered through implants that made it broader and squarer, giving his face a more dominant and different contour. His chin received similar treatment, with enhancements that not only changed its shape but also its projection, making his face appear longer and markedly different.

Other Facial Operations: Additional surgeries included rhinoplasty to change the shape of his nose, making it slightly larger and less refined than before. His cheekbones were augmented to add to the drastic change, creating shadows and contours that his original face did not possess. His eyelids were also subtly lifted and reshaped, altering how his eyes appeared in terms of size and expression.

Skin and Hair Changes: Beyond structural changes, his skin tone was altered through treatments to make it appear rougher and slightly darker, simulating years of different environmental exposure. His hair, once meticulously styled, was now allowed to thin naturally, with transplants in some areas to create an uneven hairline. Additionally, he let his hair go completely gray, embracing an older, worn look that diverged starkly from his previous meticulously dyed and groomed appearance.

Dental Work: To complete the transformation, extensive dental work changed the appearance of his smile. This included not only cosmetic changes like veneers to alter the shape and size of his teeth but also more structural adjustments that affected his bite and the overall look of his mouth when he spoke or smiled.

These physical changes were accompanied by months of behavioral adjustments where he learned to modulate his voice, adopt new mannerisms, and even change his gait and posture to complement his new body shape and size. The real Marco that emerged from witness protection was a man unrecognizable to even those who had known him closely, fully equipped with a new identity crafted to ensure his safety and anonymity. This new persona allowed him to navigate the world without the fear of recognition, setting the stage for his unexpected return to confront the life that Nathanial Ford had been living as him.

Agent Nathaniel as Marco ^

As the story of the two Marcos unfolds, an unexpected twist occurs that complicates the intricate web of deceit and dual identities: the arrival of Philippe, a key figure from the syndicate's European operations, who had unknowingly played a pivotal role in the life of Nathanial Ford, the agent posing as Marco Silvestri.

The Arrival of Philippe: Philippe, with his sharp intellect and charismatic presence, had been a subject of Nathanial's intensive study during his preparation for the mission. Nathanial had absorbed every detail of Philippe's mannerisms, speech patterns, and even his personal tastes to ensure a flawless infiltration. This deep study had inadvertently forged a subconscious connection between Nathanial and Philippe, a connection that neither had expected to manifest into something more profound.

Revelation and Romance: Upon his arrival, Philippe was initially brought in to verify the identity and allegiance of the man he believed to be Marco Silvestri. However, as the meeting progressed, the underlying tension between Nathanial (as Marco) and the real Marco, who had just revealed his true identity, created an atmosphere charged with emotional and strategic stakes.

As Philippe interacted with both men, he was struck by the depth and authenticity of Nathanial's portrayal of Marco. Despite knowing the truth, Philippe found himself drawn to Nathanial, moved by the dedication and sacrifice evident in his years of living as another man. This attraction was not one-sided. Nathanial, too, found himself recalling the hours spent studying Philippe, and the intellectual admiration he had developed now blossomed into genuine affection.

A Complex Love: The real Marco, witnessing the developing bond between Nathanial and Philippe, found himself in a quandary. While his initial plan had been to reclaim his life and dismantle the façade Nathanial had built, he was unexpectedly moved by the genuine emotions unfolding before him. Marco realized that his return had changed the dynamics irrevocably, not just for himself but for those around him.

As the trio navigated this complex situation, Philippe and Nathanial's connection deepened. Their relationship, built on a foundation of shared experiences and mutual respect for each other's intellect and strength, quickly grew into a passionate romance. This development added a new layer of complexity to the syndicate's power structure and the ongoing covert operations.

Strategic Adjustments: The dual leadership of the syndicate, now aware of Nathanial and Philippe's relationship, had to recalibrate their strategies. Philippe, with his extensive network and influence, became an even more crucial ally. Together, the three men—each with his own agenda and emotional stakes—began to reshape the syndicate's future.

This love, born out of espionage and deep cover, transformed not only the personal lives of Nathanial and Philippe but also the strategic alignments within the syndicate. As they moved forward, the trio had to balance their personal feelings with their professional duties, each decision now weighted with the potential for personal loss or gain.

The future remained uncertain, with the risk of exposure and betrayal ever-present. However, the bond between Nathanial and Philippe offered a glimmer of hope, a chance for redemption and a new beginning amidst the shadows of their clandestine world.

#body swap #transformation kink #body possession #bodyswap #skin suit #body

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vendettaspathfanfic · 5 months

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Chapter Seven

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

Toxic was overcome with an exhilaration unlike anything she had ever experienced before. For the past few days, she and the rest of the Destructix had been meticulously organizing and strategizing for the upcoming bank robbery. Her brother had assured her that the heist would not only yield substantial rewards for the gang, but also bring them closer to their ultimate goal of claiming the castle as their own.

Furthermore, she had already tasted the thrill of danger when she found herself being pursued by the police, and had even taken the life of Boomer Walrus. Like Scourge, she found herself drawn to the adrenaline rush that came with living beyond the boundaries of the law, and it was a temptation she simply couldn't resist.

And now, the sun had long dipped below the polluted horizon and the bank had closed its doors to the public. Everyone except for Scourge and Fiona gathered in the dimly lit front lobby of their musty hideout, waiting as the latter was making some last-minute modifications to a newly acquired, illicitly-gained SUV that would be serving as their getaway vehicle.

"When do we go?" Toxic asked impatiently, the frustration transparent in her tone as she slouched her shoulders forward in an exaggerated, childlike display of boredom.

"As your brother mentioned," Predator responded brusquely, "we'll leave once Fiona finishes with the car."

"And where's Scourge?" Lightning interjected, displaying his impatience, albeit in a more composed manner compared to their youngest companion.

"He's checking on Miles," Predator replied, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face as he observed Lightning's restlessness. "The wait will be worth it."

Reluctantly, Lightning released a soft sigh and nodded, conceding with a muttered acknowledgment of "you're right," his gaze drifting downward and away from Predator.

"That's hardly a revelation," Predator remarked confidently, his arms folded across his chest as he stared ahead.

"Shut up," Lightning retorted with a growl, attempting to maintain a facade of annoyance even as his mouth twitched in a battle against a burgeoning grin.

"We'll be ready soon, Toxic little girl!" Flying exclaimed, bounding off the remnants of the front desk in the lobby where he had been perched. He landed with a solid thud in a crouched position before Toxic, meeting her at eye level. "And then we'll have a grand ole time-rhyme-mime!"

A proud smile spread across Toxic's face as she declared, "I'm gonna shoot someone again," placing her clenched fists on her hips.

"Well, they've got bots instead of guards, so you'll just be shooting them if necessary," Lightning chimed in, leaning casually against the wall as he recounted a detail from his earlier reconnaissance mission at the bank to assess the security system.

"Unless the cops show up-cup-pup!" Flying interjected, wagging his finger playfully while his grin widened at the prospect of taking the lives of law enforcement.

Toxic nibbled on her healing lower lip, revealing a gap-toothed grin. "I wanna shoot them too," she mused before approaching Simon, who carried their arsenal of weapons in an ammo belt slung across his torso. She looked up at him and gently tugged on his pant leg, prompting him to shift his gaze toward her.

"What is it?" Simon asked.

"Can I have my gun?" she asked, extending her arm towards his towering figure, her hand outstretched in anticipation.

"Not yet. I'll give it to you when it’s time," Simon replied, his gaze returning to the front as he patiently awaited the gang's leaders.

"Can I just practice more though?" Toxic persisted, maintaining her stance as she tried to negotiate for access to her designated pistol.

"Nope. We have to be conservative with ammo at the moment," Simon insisted, crossing his arms firmly as he kept his gaze fixed ahead.

"That's balls," Toxic grumbled, dropping her arm and crossing it tightly with the other.

"Okay," Simon acknowledged with a nonchalant hum, his shoulders giving a subtle twitch in a barely noticeable shrug.

Scourge soon made his entrance into the dimly lit lobby, his silhouette accentuated by the warm glow emanating from the lantern he carried. With a smirk and, he lowly chuckled “whining bitch,” as he placed the lantern on a weathered end table, joining the ensemble of lights that provided just enough illumination for the gang to make out each other's faces in the dark, dank setting.

"How's our guest, green boss?" queried Flying with a curious tilt of his head.

"He's been trapped in that room going on three days now, and trust me, we're far from rolling out the red carpet for him. He's faring just as you'd picture," Scourge growled with annoyance while he fidgeted with the jacket that seemed to hang loosely on his lithe form.

"I see-hee-hee!" Flying snickered with sinister glee, his hands coming together in anticipation as he imagined the undoubtedly run-down condition of their captive, Miles.

"Fiona's wrapping up her work. I'll go see how she's doing," declared Scourge, striding towards the shadowy alley nestled next to the orphanage. It was a secluded spot where they currently kept their vehicles out of sight. As he arrived, he noticed Fiona, intent on her task under the SUV's hood, her face hidden from view by its bulk.

"How's it going, Fi?" he called out, a grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of her, somehow still striking even with streaks of filth marking her from the day's labor.

"Just tying up the last few loose ends," she answered without looking up, her hands deftly making the final tweaks to the engine. With a satisfied nod, she packed away her tools and lowered the hood with a solid thud. "We should give it a test drive. Care to do the honors?"

"Yeah, I'm up for it," Scourge replied nonchalantly, his shoulders lifting in an easy shrug.

"Perfect. Just a quick ride down to the end of the street and back should do. I can tell you're all itching to go soon," she said, a touch of empathy in her voice as she prepared to gauge the readiness of their escape vehicle.

"Don't you know it," Scourge chuckled, the sound low and soft, as he accepted the keys she offered him and slid into the driver's seat. With a turn of the key, the engine roared to life, and he took off for the brief trial run. The vehicle performed flawlessly, and with a satisfied nod, he returned to park it right in front of the building, stepping out to greet Fiona who walked up to him with a victorious air.

"Smooth as butter," she proclaimed, her arms lifted triumphantly.

"That’s my girl," Scourge praised, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her into a close embrace, their bodies pressed together in a moment of affection.

"Well," Fiona began, her fingers delicately holding Scourge's chin, elevating his gaze to hers, "it looks like we're ready to roll."

With a broad smile, Scourge reveled not only in the thrill of the impending heist but also in the woman before him – Fiona, the undeniable queenpin of their outfit and, more significantly, his own heart. Drawn in by the moment, their lips met in a soft collision that momentarily swept away thoughts of their upcoming illicit endeavor.

The Destructix, however, did not forget about anything. The expectant gang emerged from the building,

Their intimate interlude was shattered by a piercing, high-pitched "HEY!" that sliced through the air, accompanied by the sharp clap of hands.

"I will break you, you little shi-" Scourge snarled, his moment with Fiona abruptly interrupted, glaring at his sister in disdain.

"Are we ready to get moving?" Toxic interrupted, her impatience evident in her crossed arms and the rhythmic tapping of her foot.

"Mhm," Fiona replied, rolling her eyes at Toxic's insolence. She then turned her attention to the task at hand, announcing, "Everybody, gear up," as she popped open the trunk and began to distribute the nondescript black hoodies and balaclavas to the group.

"How long is the drive again?" Lightning asked, pulling the hoodie over his head.

"We should make it in about thirty minutes," Fiona answered, as she too donned the garment. "Simon, do you have all the equipment ready?"

“Yes ma’am.” Simion replied with an obedient nod, carefully placing a large, loaded duffle bag into the trunk.

Fiona responded with an enthusiastic agreement, enthusiastically thrusting both of her thumbs skyward as she declared, “Cool. Everyone in.”

Upon her cue, her and the rest of the Destructix clambered into the spacious interior of the SUV, a sense of tense excitement hanging in the air. Fiona ignited the engine and embarked on their route towards the bank.

“Alright, one more time let’s hear the plan.” Scourge commanded with authority, his blue eyes scanning the motley crew of accomplices from the vehicle's passenger seat.

With precision, Lightning began to recite his role in the upcoming heist, “I disarm an external security camera by the vent which I’ll crawl through and search for the security room. Once there, I’ll take the flash drive Fiona got and plug it into the main computer. The virus within it will shut the system down completely.”

“Right, then what?” Scourge prodded, his voice laced with anticipation for the next steps.

“I’ll break open the door then guard the car.” Simon chimed in succinctly, underscoring his commitment to the task at hand.

“Can Simon come with us?” Toxic interjected, her eyes wide and hopeful as she cast a beseeching look in Simon’s direction.

“Shut up,” Scourge spat out sharply, his patience wearing thin with his sister’s shenanigans.

“But I-“ Toxic began to protest, her lips parting in objection, only to be met with crossed arms and a resolved stance.

“The answer’s no,” Simon articulated firmly, as the little blue hedgehog sitting beside him grumbled under her breath, her arms folding defiantly while her expression soured by the sting of rejection.

“Go on,” Fiona encouraged, her tone now edged with impatience.

“I run in and find the vault,” Scourge succinctly stated his part of the plan, his confidence unwavering.

“Right,” Fiona acknowledged, her hands deftly maneuvering the steering wheel as she executed a sharp turn.

“We go where Scourge tells us the vault is and start loading the bags.” Predator elaborated, nodding toward the trunk where a stack of empty duffel bags awaited their bounty.

“Then after we’re rich-stitch-bitch, we haul the fuck out before the piggly-wigglies come after us!” Flying exclaimed with his typical raucous enthusiasm, his fist punching the air triumphantly.

“Damn right boys,” Fiona concurred, her lips curling into a predatory smirk of anticipation. The vehicle accelerated, leaving behind the city limits sign that marked their departure from Moebotropilis, as they steered closer to their plunder.

“My mouth hurts…” Toxic complained with a pained expression, her fingers unconsciously gravitating towards the scab forming on her healing lip.

“Then why are you picking at it?” Predator grumbled with a touch of exasperation, shooting a disapproving glance at Toxic.

“Stop picking at it, Toxic. It won't heal if you do,” Fiona scolded firmly, her gaze piercing through the rearview mirror to meet Toxic's eyes.

“I’m not picking at it…” Toxic protested weakly, her fingers betraying her as they continued their ministrations.

“I see you doing it. Knock it off,” Fiona admonished, her voice carrying a note of frustration as she shifted her focus momentarily to berate a sluggish driver ahead, “move it, dumbass!”

“Put your mask on, Toxic,” Simon interjected, hoping this would redirect Toxic's attention away from her lip.

“Okay,” Toxic responded eagerly, a spark of excitement evident in her eyes as she grasped the small balaclava and attempted to pull it over her head. However, her initial enthusiasm was met with a minor setback as she struggled to align the mask correctly, inadvertently covering her eyes instead of the intended eye holes.

“Hang on,” Simon sighed heavily, reaching over to adjust the mask to its proper position on Toxic's head.

“Does it look cool?” Toxic inquired with anticipation, her wide eyes shining with a mix of innocence and eagerness as her tail wagged in anticipation.

“Sure,” Simon replied casually, offering a nonchalant shrug in response to her query.

“Good,” Toxic chimed in happily, a giggle bubbling forth as she embraced the thrill of her first heist.

As the journey progressed with an intermittent backdrop of silence occasionally punctuated by Toxic annoying Simon with various random questions, Lightning seized the opportunity to engage in a moment of meditation. The impending task ahead demanded unwavering focus and precision, necessitating a mental and physical clarity unencumbered by distractions. With a deliberate motion, he gently closed his eyes, honed in on the rhythm of his breath, and methodically purged his mind of extraneous thoughts.

Unbeknownst to Lightning, Predator's gaze had shifted towards him, silently studying his tranquil countenance with a mix of admiration and respect. The aura of serenity enveloping Lightning belied the intense focus he maintained, his unmoving form resembling that of a poised statue, save for the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled with measured calmness.

In this moment of profound tranquility and disciplined resolve, Predator found a poignant reminder of Lightning's indispensable role within the ranks of the Destructix. The brief period during which Lightning had temporarily departed to rejoin the Raiju Clan had underscored not only the loss of a formidable ally in combat but also the absence of a cherished friend whose presence was deeply ingrained in the fabric of their collective identity.

"Thank god he came back…" Predator mused inwardly, the sentiment reverberating within him so profoundly that he resisted the urge to vocalize it.

To Predator, the Destructix remained incomplete in Lightning's absence, a sentiment that echoed the void within his own being that yearned to be filled by the camaraderie and companionship they had shared. Lightning was more than a comrade; he was Predator's first true friend, a bond that transcended the confines of their criminal endeavors and resonated on a personal level.

Abruptly jolted back to reality, Predator's reverie was shattered by Flying's boisterous intervention, as he seized Lightning's shoulder and vigorously shook him while emitting an incomprehensible stream of excited chatter, disrupting the moment with a frenetic energy that clashed with the prevailing stillness.

"Fuck, Flying!" Lightning hissed through gritted teeth, his body taut with barely restrained fury as he glared at him.

Flying, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the tension, a mischievous sparkle dancing in his eyes. He let out a playful giggle, the sound almost musical in its lightness. "We’re here, kitty kitty!" he taunted, his voice lilting as he turned his attention towards Predator with a sly grin. With an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows, he mockingly inquired, "Could you tell we were here, tweety bird? You seemed a lil distracted!"

The color rose rapidly to Predator's cheeks, a deep blush betraying his embarrassment. He was caught with his eyes stuck on Lightning. It was an unusual lapse for him, one that seemed all the more peculiar because he hadn't intended to stare; his mind had simply wandered down a labyrinth of thought.

"Yes I could…” Predator murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to recover his composure. He hastily cleared his throat, finding himself momentarily unable to meet the eyes of his companions. An old nervous habit was resurfacing, one he had diligently worked to quell, and he silently chastised himself for allowing it to creep back in.

Scourge cut through the banter with a voice that brooked no argument. “Everyone put the masks on,” he directed, his tone firm and authoritative. There was no hesitation as the team promptly complied, each member pulling on their balaclavas to conceal their identities in the dark fabric.

Fiona, maneuvered the vehicle into a narrow alleyway several structures away from the bank. The engine hummed to a subdued halt. Turning in her seat, she fixed Lightning with a look that was both stern and encouraging. “You’re on, my man,” she said, giving him an affirming nod.

Responding with a terse nod of his own, Lightning's fingers found the button that activated the car's overhead window, pressing it to open up his pathway. He unclasped his seatbelt with a click and fluidly climbed through the opening. Standing atop the vehicle, he surveyed his surroundings before making his move. With the finesse of a true ninja, he leaped onto a nearby fire escape, his movements swift and silent as he ascended the metal stairs to gain access to the rooftops.

Once he reached the appropriate vantage point, he paced back, calculating distance, then burst into a sprint that carried him toward the edge of the rooftop. With a powerful leap, he bridged the gap to the neighboring building, repeating this athletic feat from one structure to the next in a breathtaking display of parkour until he arrived at the bank's roof.

There, Lightning prowled across the rooftop like a shadow until he reached his target that he had noted when he surveyed the bank earlier: the security camera with a clear view of the vent he needed to infiltrate. With a deftness that spoke of years of practice, he reached out and with a swift twist of his wrist, he dislodged the camera from its perch, letting it clatter to his feet where he proceeded to crush it beneath his boot, extinguishing its ability.

With the camera disabled, Lightning yet again transformed into an embodiment of stealth and precision. He inched over the ledge, his body angled in an almost impossible inversion as he maintained his balance with the expertise of a master climber. Upon unzipping a pocket of his hoodie, he pulled out a small screwdriver, its metal glinting faintly in the dim light as he set about removing the bolts securing the vent. One by one, the screws fell away, the metal grate clattering to the ground below. Lightning's movements were a choreographed dance of finesse and strength, as he contorted his body to slip into the vent's maw.

Inside, he weaved through the ducts with a patience born of necessity, seeking the nerve center of their target. After a meticulous journey, he discovered a room bristling with technology — computers, monitors, and servers — the perfect jackpot.

But caution was paramount; security cameras lurked like vigilant sentinels. Tuning into the environment, Lightning detected the faint hum of machinery from a camera nearby, likely positioned to monitor the vent. With a swift and calculated motion, he positioned his feet against the grate and unleashed a powerful kick. The grate sailed away as Lightning burst from the vent, his feet colliding with the camera in a precise strike, its recording light flickering out as he landed deftly on the ground.

Drawing from his extensive experience in past criminal exploits, Lightning navigated the familiar terrain of the room with confident precision. Approaching the mainframe computer, he deftly inserted the flash drive containing the virus, a potent tool acquired by Fiona from a black market, into the USB port. As the malicious code took root within the system, the room's atmosphere crackled with digital tension.

Observing the monitors flicker and glitch in response to the virus's intrusion, Lightning's ears flattened at the jarring cacophony of alarms distorted by the cyber assault. Without missing a beat, he reached for his phone and dialed Scourge.

“Howzit lookin’?” Scourge's voice cut through the chaos, his tone a blend of anticipation and authority, as he answered the call after a single ring.

“It’s working. Any second now...” Lightning's response was measured and focused, his gaze fixed on the unfolding chaos as the virus's effects intensified, causing the servers and monitors to succumb to the digital onslaught. With a self-assured smirk, he announced, “You’re up, boss.”

“See you in a minute,” Scourge's voice resonated with unwavering confidence as he terminated the call, stepping out of the car to retrieve an empty duffel bag from the trunk, preparing for the next phase of their operation.

Exiting the vehicle in tandem, Simon approached Scourge.

"In case the vault hasn't been unlocked, you’ll need some sticky bombs," Simon remarked, retrieving a small duffel bag containing the explosive devices and passing it to him with careful deliberation.

“Right on, man,” Scourge acknowledged with a faint grin, shouldering the bag of volatile tools in readiness for their utilization.

“You know how to use ‘em?”

“Yeah, gotta run,” Scourge responded with a playful salute, his focus shifting to the imminent task at hand. With his signature speed, he hastened towards the bank's entrance, the weight of their mission propelling him forward like a bullet. With a swift motion, he forced open the door, splintering the lock in the process, and plunged into the dimly lit interior, embarking on a determined search for the location of the vault, where their ultimate prize awaited.

Thanks to the combination of his remarkable speed and the lack of security measures in the bank, combing the grounds of the bank wasn’t nearly as difficult or time consuming as it would be under normal circumstances for the average person. In less than a minute, he stumbled upon a stairwell hiding behind an unmarked door in the heart of the bank. Leaping over the rail, he fell to the bottom and landed firmly on his feet, he found a long hallway that led to his destination.

Upon reaching the formidable entrance of the bank's vault, he found himself wrestling with the knob. His efforts proved fruitless as the door stood steadfast, mocking his attempt with its immobility. Unperturbed, he meticulously positioned a pair of sticky bombs on the surface of the massive steel barrier and hastily retreated to the stairwell's summit. From the duffel bag, he fished out the detonator, and despite the seriousness of the heist, a mischievous grin broke across his face, impossible to suppress.

He couldn't help but muse over the irony; the bank had undoubtedly poured an immense amount of time and fortune into their elaborate security measures, yet here they were, his band of rebels, dismantling the intricate system with such ease in hardly any time at all. It was almost pitiful, he thought. Actually, it was downright ludicrous. His laughter spilled forth, a wild symphony of triumph and mockery, echoing throughout, an audible testament that the world was, indeed, at his whim.

"Godspeed, Moebius!" Scourge's voice thundered amidst his cachinnation, the words charged with exhilaration as he pressed the detonator's button, instinctively covering his ears in anticipation of the blast. The resulting roar of the explosion reverberated up and down the stairwell, and he waited patiently as the tumultuous sounds gradually diminished into silence.

Once the echoes faded, Scourge confidently extracted his phone, the screen glowing to life as he connected with Lightning. The phone barely had time to ring before the lynx’s voice came through, crisp and alert. Scourge's instructions were brief and to the point, guiding his accomplice towards the now-breeched vault. With the call ended, he surged back outside to where the rest of the Destructix were already in motion, their figures spilling out of the SUV. They rummaged through the trunk, efficiently drawing out several empty duffel bags, their interiors hungry for the spoils of their venture.

Amidst the organized chaos, Simon distributed guns amongst the crew then took a moment to address Toxic. He crouched down, reducing the distance between them, and offered her the compact firearm that had been selected with her in mind. His voice was gentle yet firm, "Remember what to do with this?" he inquired, handing the weapon to her.

Toxic's response was tentative, her voice betraying the effort she was making to recall his earlier instructions, "Don’t uhm… point it at anyone I’m not gonna shoot and only shoot who they tell me to shoot?" She locked eyes with him, seeking affirmation.

"That’s right. And don’t go anywhere they don’t tell you to go," Simon replied, his nod conveying his approval. He watched as a spark of eager anticipation danced in Toxic's eyes, her small frame barely containing the thrill of their illicit escapade.

"I won’t," she promised earnestly, her excitement manifesting in a series of small, jubilant jumps.

"Good," Simon responded, the shadow of a smile threatening to break through his stoic demeanor. He then lifted his gaze, addressing the collective as he imparted his final piece of guidance, "I’ll call you guys if I hear sirens."

"Right on, Simon," Fiona chimed in, her thumb raised in solidarity.

Without further ado, Scourge issued the command to advance, "This way!" His stride was deliberate, a perfect balance of speed and caution as he led his crew back into the bank's interior, descending towards the vault where Lightning awaited their arrival, ready to lay claim to their prize.

The Destructix charged into the vault with an exhilaration akin to children rushing towards an ice cream truck on a hot summer day.

“Dig in, guys!” Scourge's voice reverberated through the enclosed space, brimming with ebullience, as he flung a duffel bag towards Lightning before eagerly stuffing his own with stacks of pristine hundred Moebium bills.

Fiona joined in the revelry, her whoops of joy punctuating the air as she deftly packed her duffel bag with a precision that bordered on artistry, ensuring every available inch was crammed with the coveted currency.

“Make sure you get these ones, kid,” Predator's voice cut through the commotion, guiding Toxic towards the higher denomination Moebium bills that she dutifully stashed away in her backpack.

In a synchronized rhythm, they continued their plunder, the vault echoing with the rustle of cash and the palpable thrill of anticipation. With each bill added to their bags, their imaginations sparked with visions of the luxuries and enhancements that awaited them. From fine dining to Scourge modifying his newly stolen sports car, and even the prospect of additional cybernetic upgrades for the whole gang beyond Lightning's imminent enhancements for the upcoming siege, the possibilities seemed endless in the glow of their success.

However, amidst the euphoria of their heist, Predator's keen gaze caught a subtle shift in Lightning's demeanor. The seasoned ninja’s ears pivoted, attuned to a sound only he could detect, his expression etched with a steely focus that signaled potential danger lurking in the shadows.

“What is it?” Predator inquired, recognizing the telltale intensity in Lightning's countenance, pausing in his cash-stuffing endeavor, the bills frozen in his grasp.

“That hum…” Lightning's voice was low, his ears swiveling as he zeroed in on a distinct electrical vibration growing in intensity behind him. Without hesitation, he turned his head towards the source, his eyes locking onto a menacing turret descending ominously from the vault's ceiling.

“Hit the deck!” Lightning’s urgent command pierced the chaos, a stark warning that sent everyone scrambling to the floor. In a swift motion, Flying vaulted over, landing protectively atop a bewildered Toxic, shielding her from the lethal hail of bullets that erupted across the room, the deadly projectiles grazing perilously close but missing their marks by mere inches.

Scourge's gaze locked onto the menacing turret, its malevolent intent clear in its automated movements. As the turret momentarily shifted its focus away from him, seizing the opportune moment, he sprang into action, leaping to his feet with a fluid grace honed through countless escapades. With a primal war cry, he executed his signature homing attack, hurtling towards the turret with unbridled fury, his strike shattering the mechanical menace into a cascade of twisted metal. Standing amidst the wreckage, he clenched his fist in frustration, bellowing, “The system’s coming back on! I thought we toasted it!?”

“It was supposed to take down the backup files! Fucker at the black market screwed us over!” Fiona's voice rang out, a potent cocktail of disbelief and fury coursing through her veins, her mind racing to process the unexpected betrayal.

“We have to go! Now!” Predator's voice cut through the tension, his tone decisive as he swiftly rose to his feet, sealing his bulging bag with practiced efficiency. The urgency of the situation hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder that their daring heist had veered perilously off course, leaving them with no choice but to retreat before the full might of the bank's defenses descended upon them.

As they fled from the compromised vault, their footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor, the weight of the stolen cash dragging at their arms, a sudden swarm of sleek white armed drones swooped towards them, their menacing presence casting a shadow over the fleeing band of outlaws.

“Feed ‘em lead, guys!” Scourge's command sliced through the tension, igniting a flurry of gunfire as his comrades unleashed a torrent of bullets upon the armored mechanical adversaries.

“Ain’t this fun-run-gun, little girl!?” Flying's exuberant voice boomed above the cacophony, his shots finding their mark with precision, shattering a drone's camera and halting its aggressive advance. Seizing the opportunity, he lifted the lower half of his mask, stretched out his signature elastic tongue, and ensnared the disabled drone before flinging it unceremoniously to the ground, inflicting heavy damage upon its mechanical form.

“Ew, you licked it!” Toxic's voice rang out in a mixture of disgust and amusement, her own shot landing the final blow on the incapacitated machine.

“And it tasted goooood!” Flying's laughter reverberated through the corridor, a wild blend of adrenaline-fueled exhilaration and irreverent humor in the face of danger.

“Keep your mask down, man!” Fiona’s urgent demand pierced through the deafening symphony of gunfire.

Scourge, ever the showboat, decided that the use of a gun was a waste of time as he flung the bulging duffel bag he carried skyward. With a grace that belied the chaos surrounding him, he blurred into motion, moving in the blink of an eye. In a breathtaking display of agility and finesse, he leapt into action, executing a powerful kick that sent one of the drones hurtling towards its two remaining companions. They collided in a spectacular chain reaction, crashing into each other with a resounding clatter before careening into the unforgiving walls like a cascade of metallic dominos.

Proud of the chaos he had unleashed, Scourge continued his lightning-fast maneuvers, a blur of motion as he seamlessly returned to his starting point, snatching the falling duffel bag from the air with unerring precision before it could touch the ground.

With a smug smirk stretching unseen beneath his mask, he maintained a brisk but steady pace, allowing the others to easily follow him. His voice rang out, laced with a taunting edge as he beckoned his crew with a playful shout, "haul ass, slowpokes! Eyes up!"

Fiona's heartbeat quickened in tandem with the rhythm of their ascent up the stairwell when she felt the unmistakable vibration of her cell phone against her thigh. It was as if she had a sixth sense; she knew it was Simon on the other end before she even drew the device from her pocket. With a swift swipe, she accepted the call, and Simon's voice came through, confirming her premonitions.

The police were en route and getting closer by the second.

"No shit," Fiona bellowed back into the receiver, her voice almost lost amidst the cacophony of the bank's alarm system. Her eyes darted around, vigilant for any additional hazards. "The virus didn't fully take the system down like we thought! Guy who sold me the drive fucked us over and now we’re dealing with turrets and drones!”

There was a moment's pause before Simon's voice returned, now laced with frustration. His grip tightened on his phone, his strength inadvertently causing the screen to crack slightly, "Damn…" he muttered, the sound of his frustration palpable, "I’m out front ready to drive when you get out."

"See you in a mi—" Fiona's response was cut short as a sudden, explosive noise caused her to miss a step. Another ceiling turret had been obliterated by Scourge, its remnants clattering down the stairs.

Toxic, caught off guard by the chaos, let out a startled yelp. Her footing lost, she teetered dangerously backward until Fiona's reflexes kicked in. With a firm grip, Fiona caught her by the shirt, halting her fall.

"Watch your damn step!" Fiona admonished with an air of irritation. She then sighed, resigning herself to a solution, "Or, ugh, climb on back, we can’t have you slow us down!" Bending down, she allowed Toxic to clamber onto her back, securing a tight hold.

Simon's voice crackled with urgency through the phone, "What happened? Are you guys ok?"

"Relatively speakin’, yeah!" Fiona shouted back, her tone a cocktail of adrenaline and urgency, "Look, can't talk—there's a lot of shit going on!" With that, she ended the call abruptly, the severity of their predicament justifying the sudden interruption.

The remaining distance through the bank was a blur of gunfire and mechanical wreckage as they dispatched swarm after swarm of drones and turrets. Finally, the Destructix burst through the front doors, spilling out into the moonlight. They sprinted towards their getaway vehicle, tossing the duffel bags laden with cash into the trunk before tumbling into the SUV.

"Everyone in?" Simon's voice carried a mix of composure and haste, the wail of sirens now ominously close.

"FUCKING DRIVE, SIMON!" Scourge's voice erupted, his fist pounding against the dash with a force that echoed his impatience.

Simon needed no further urging. His foot slammed down on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward, tires screeching as they tore away from the scene of their crime.

Exhilaration pulsed through Toxic as she threw her fists into the air, her voice ringing with triumph, "we did it!"

Fiona, ever the realist, tempered the celebration with a cautious glance over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and a string of curses spilled out as she spotted the relentless pursuit of law enforcement, "almost," she snapped back, noting the sea of flashing lights gaining on them.

"Piggly wigglies have come out to play!" Flying declared with a manic gleam in his eyes, thirsting for the violent confrontation.

Without missing a beat, Fiona barked at Scourge, "Get that scanner on—now!" Scourge, understanding the urgency and following Fiona’s instructions, immediately flipped the switch and dialed up the volume. The scanner crackled to life, and the gang leaned in as they focused on the dispatcher's voice detailing their vehicle's description and last known heading.

The unmistakable blare of the police's ultimatum boomed through their own intercom, "NCPD! Pull over or we will open fire!"

Scourge couldn't suppress a sardonic chuckle, muttering under his breath, "Is that any way to talk to the king and his men?" He then turned to the rest of the gang, his grin sharp and wild, "Get your iron ready, guys!"

Flying didn't need to be told twice. With agile movements, he vaulted over the seats, landing with a thud in the trunk. He rummaged quickly, resurfacing with a cache of assault rifles. He passed the weapons to Lightning, Predator, Fiona, and Scourge with an efficiency born of experience.

With determination, Scourge positioned himself at the window, the cool metal of the rifle in his grasp. He braced, took aim, and as the car swerved to avoid incoming fire, he squeezed the trigger. The sound of bullets ricocheting off metal filled the air as Fiona and the others followed, unleashing a hailstorm of gunfire towards the police vehicles that were in hot pursuit.

“I wanna shoot too!” Toxic’s voice rang out with a mix of eagerness and frustration as she watched the ongoing chaos from the sidelines.

“You’re gonna love this, kiddo!” Flying couldn’t contain his exhilaration, his voice booming over the cacophony of gunfire and sirens, shaking with wild laughter. In a swift, fluid motion, he lifted the lower half of his mask to reveal a wide, mischievous grin. With precision, his extendable tongue shot out, securely latching onto Toxic and pulling her to his side. Ensuring her safety, he held her steady as she leaned out of the speeding car window, her own weapon in hand. Together, they fired relentlessly at the pursuing police cars. By a stroke of luck, or perhaps skill, one of Toxic’s bullets found its mark, shattering a windshield and striking the driver. The ensuing chaos was immediate - the police cars swerved, collided, and ultimately crashed into a spectacular pile-up.

“Attagirl!” Flying’s praise was enthusiastic, though somewhat muffled as his tongue still maintained a protective grip on Toxic, ensuring she remained safe within the confines of their escape vehicle.

“Shh!” The urgency in Fiona’s hiss cut through the adrenaline-fueled air. Her focus was entirely on the scanner on the radio, the static-filled voice emanating from it capturing her full attention. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Predator’s voice was tinged with curiosity as he ducked inside the vehicle, his head tilting in an attempt to discern the message being transmitted.

“We’re completely blocked in,” Lightning’s tone was matter-of-fact, echoing Predator’s movements by also leaning into the interior of the car.

“We can’t carry all this stuff on foot... What’s the plan, bosses?” Simon’s queried, maneuvering the wheel, eyes scanning the road with steely focus.

The tension spiked as the unmistakable sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air reached their ears, followed by the invasive glare of a spotlight suddenly trained on them.

“Hmm…” Predator’s hum was pensive, the gears turning in his mind as a sly smirk began to play at the corners of his mouth, “a helicopter crashing into a police blockade could be very… distracting.”

“Sounds like there’s a blockade straight ahead in about a quarter mile,” Simon interjected, offering critical intel while his gaze never wavered from the road ahead.

Flying’s energy seemed to surge at the revelation, and with a swift, graceful movement, he released his grip on Toxic. He gently placed her in the safety of the seat next to him as he adjusted his mask back into place, concealing his features once again.

“Sounds like a party-arty-farty! Could I pretty please come?” His voice was laced with a playful wheedle as he clasped his hands together and batted his eyelashes in exaggerated anticipation.

"Fine," Predator conceded, a flicker of determination in his eyes as he prepared for the daring maneuver ahead. Without hesitation, he propelled himself out of the window, soaring around the car in a swift loop. The frog's outstretched hands snatched his ankles in a seamless motion, propelling him like a speeding bullet towards the helicopter.

"Alright!" Predator's voice boomed over the roar of the wind, his instructions clear and decisive. "I'll take the right side, you'll take the left. Glide in on my word!"

With precision honed from countless escapades, Predator zeroed in on the left side of the helicopter. As the moment aligned perfectly, he bellowed, "NOW!" The signal unleashed a synchronized assault as Flying swooped into the helicopter, swiftly incapacitating one pilot, while Predator swiftly dealt with the other.

The limp bodies of the pilots were unceremoniously tossed from the aircraft as Predator assumed command, his gaze fixed on the impending blockade and the oncoming SUV. "Jump out now!" his command cut through the chaos, urgency tinged in his voice. As the helicopter dove towards the obstruction, Flying wasted no time, gliding out to safety just in time. Predator followed suit, propelling himself upward like a bullet, his gaze locked on the impending collision below. From his aerial vantage point, he watched as the helicopter collided with the police cars, the explosion engulfing them in a ball of fire and chaos.

Below, the police were thrown into disarray, their attention captivated by the explosion which created a gap in their formation as vehicles were tossed aside. Seizing the moment, everyone in the SUV ducked down, and Simon floored the accelerator, steering the vehicle through the flames. They slipped into the shadows, vanishing from the distracted gaze of law enforcement.

Predator and Flying, now airborne, kept a vigilant watch over the van's trajectory as it wove its way through the ensuing pandemonium below. Like specters in the night, they shot through the air, their bodies silhouetted against the backdrop of flames and smoke, as they made their descent towards the now distant vehicle.

The two remained vigilant from their aerial perspective, their keen eyes tracking the van's trajectory as it weaved through the chaos. With the grace of seasoned acrobats, they soared through the smoke-filled sky, their bodies silhouetted against the fiery backdrop, preparing to rejoin their team. With a synchronized thud, they landed on the roof of the car and maneuvered themselves, finding ingress through an open window to rejoin their comrades within the confines of the vehicle.

With their hearts pounding in anxious anticipation, the team held their breath as the scanner's confirmation echoed in the tense air, revealing that the suspects had slipped away, vanishing into the chaos that surrounded them. Despite the seemingly daunting odds stacked against them, the Destructix had emerged victorious yet again.

(Hey yall sorry this took so damn long life became crazy for a min but thank u so much for waiting! Also there was gonna be more to this chapter but it would have been absurdly long but on the upside chapter 8 is already in the works! Next chapter has a lil….surprise 🫶🤍🩵)

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sharpened--edges · 5 months

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The tension between liberal declarations of victory over racism and the real lived experience of Black people in America exploded into full contradiction with the [1965] Watts Uprising in LA. […] What followed was six days of “insurrection against all authority,” as the local CBS radio station reported it. “If it had gone much further,” the news report said, “it would have become civil war.” More than 950 buildings were damaged, and 260 were totally destroyed. Looting and property destruction amounted to over $40 million in damages — nearly $330 million today adjusted for inflation. But the destruction was hardly wanton or senseless. Almost no homes, schools, libraries, churches, or public buildings were even partially damaged. The use of arson was strategic and controlled. The majority of Black-owned businesses were not looted, nor were those businesses that were seen as dealing fairly with the community. Signs went up saying “Black-owned” or “soul brother” and the like, which would (usually) protect a shop from rioters. On the other hand, businesses that had traditionally exploited people, in particular pawnshops, check-cashing stores, and department stores that operated aggressively on credit, went up in flames. Credit records were usually destroyed before anything else took place. Brave rioters even made attacks on police stations; one was set alight. The tactics were simple but effective, as Gerald Horne records in his important history of the Watts Uprising, Fire This Time. One common tactic saw a group of rioters, usually young men, drive up to a business, hop out, break out the windows, then drive away. Then cars of looters, a much more mixed group, split between men and women, young and old, would arrive and work to empty the store. The store would only be set alight once credit records had been destroyed and goods had been fully looted. Rioters usually remained nearby to make sure the building burned, attacking firemen with bricks and bottles if they tried to put out the flames before the fire had fully consumed the hated business. Tactics reflected effective communication and mobility among the rebels. Rioters transmitted information over the radio waves, used payphones to spread intel, and listened in to police broadcasts to see where cops would be deployed. False reports were called in to send police scrambling, at which point areas they’d just “pacified” could be re-taken. In areas they didn’t entirely control, rioters focused on hit-and-run strikes, then dispersing quickly to reappear elsewhere. All of these tactics would be adopted and practiced, with local modifications, in other riots throughout the period. The media described these as guerilla tactics, and police and reactionaries compared the situation in Watts to fighting the Viet Cong or the Mau Mau of Kenya. Rioters often appreciated the comparison: many, encouraged by the thought of Malcolm X, Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM), Robert F. Williams, and local militants, understood their actions as guerilla warfare, too. Other rioters tied their actions to anticolonial struggle via resistance to imperialist war. Many men of draft age interviewed afterward said something very similar to what one rioter told SNCC newspaper The Movement: “I’d rather die here than in Vietnam.”

Vicky Osterweil, In Defense of Looting: A Riotous History of Uncivil Action (Bold Type, 2020), pp. 196–8.

#vicky osterweil #watts uprising #los angeles

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usafphantom2 · 2 months

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USAF Moves Fighters to Create a ‘Super Squadron’ of F-16s near North Korea

July 23, 2024 | By Unshin Lee Harpley

The U.S. Air Force is shifting nine extra F-16 fighters to its base closest to the Demilitarized Zone that splits North and South Korea, creating a so-called “Super Squadron.”

The fighters are coming from Kunsan Air Base in the southwestern part of Korea to Osan Air Base, located only 50 miles south of the DMZ.

The 36th Fighter Squadron at Osan will go from 22 jets to 31 with the additions, according to a base release. The transfer will be a yearlong test for how to “maximize combat effectiveness,” with the service evaluating its impact on sortie generation, maintenance, and manpower.

“This test is an opportunity for us to see if squadrons of this size increase our training effectiveness while also increasing our combat capability if deterrence fails,” Lt. Gen. David. R. Iverson, 7th Air Force commander and U.S. Forces Korea deputy commander, said in a release.

Airmen from the 36th Fighter Generation Squadron park a U.S. Air Force F-16 Fighting Falcon at Osan Air Base, Republic of Korea, July 9, 2024. U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Chase Verzaal

Along with the fighters, some 150 Airmen including pilots, engineers, and combat support personnel are relocating to Osan base. The bases are roughly 100 miles apart.

“While we execute this test, we understand these changes may present some challenges for our Airmen and Families,” Iverson added, saying leaders are working to mitigate those impacts while “increasing readiness and war fighting capability.”

The other fighter squadron at Osan Air Base, the 25th Fighter Squadron, remains the only internationally based unit to hold onto the A-10 aircraft. While the exact timeline of how long the Air Force will continue operating the attack aircraft at the base remains uncertain, the fleet has a maintenance contract with several South Korean firms until 2029.

With the increased F-16 presence at the base, some analysts have suggested the USAF may retired the A-10s from the peninsula earlier than originally planned. Secretary of the Air Force Frank Kendall has described the A-10 as “increasingly obsolete and very difficult to maintain,” as the service has been pushing to gradually retire the fleet.

A U.S. Air Force F-16 Fighting Falcon lands at Osan Air Base, Republic of Korea, July 9, 2024. U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Chase Verzaal

The shift in F-16s to Osan is the latest move by the Air Force to adjust its fighter posture in recent months. PACAF’s 2030 Strategy, released in September 2023, noted that “our current basing posture, optimized 70 years ago, adversely affects our ability to rapidly respond to natural disasters and man-made crises today” and pledged to re-optimize the command’s basing.

Earlier this month, the Pentagon announced it would base 36 F-15EX aircraft at Kadena Air Base in Japan to replace the base’s remaining F-15C/Ds. Over the last several years, in preparation for the retirement of the 48 F-15C/Ds at the base, the service has been rotating fighter deployments to the strategic base in Okinawa, only 400 miles east of Taiwan.

The service is also adding four dozen F-35As to Misawa Air Base to replace its 36 F-16s, making it the first foreign base in the Indo-Pacific to host USAF F-35 fighters and the second overall, after RAF Lakenheath in the U.K.

“In the last year and a half or so, the world has become a very dangerous place,” former PACAF Commander Gen. Kenneth S. Wilsbach said early this year, citing burgeoning concerns regarding China, North Korea and Russia which he considered a Pacific nation.

Osan received its first F-16s back in 1988, after Kunsan became the first overseas base to convert from F-4 Phantom to F-16s in 1981. The Air Force’s latest modernization effort aims to upgrade the F-16 fleet with 22 modifications to include a new radar with active electronically scanned array and Center Display Unit-technology. Kunsan received its first upgraded F-16 last year.

@Airandspaceforces.com

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forcemasculinisation · 8 months

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god id love to do sports but i’m phys disabled… i need another guy to comfort me about this. with tongue.

Thank you for your ask, anon. I obviously don't know how your physical disability exactly affects you, however there are many types of sports out there that I personally would view as masc that aren't so physically demanding. Just a few examples being:

Pool.

Darts.

Chess or any other strategic board game.

Even so, just the participation in the social aspect of sports, supporting teams (and betting, if you do so very responsibly) can give you a similar sense of male community. Most men I know actually prefer to watch it than partake in it. I can't attend my male-dominated classes without hearing guys screaming about football. Following the Olympics or the World Cup or the NBA can be intruiging, and can help you find men with similar interests to you.

Sports is not the be-all-end-all with masculinity. There are many things that I'd like to get into with this account. For me, my main masculine outlet is vintage gaming and console modification. But I understand your desire to pursue a sport. Hopefully my advice is somehow useful to you, anon.

(Although, I'm sure there are guys who would love to make out with you about this.)

#force masc #forced masculinisation #forced masculinization #ftm forced masculinisation #ftm forced masculinization #autoandrophilia #t4t #roachification #ftm cnc #asks

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bts-siyeongeun · 3 months

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www.dex’s-profile.com

────────── THE BASICS.

birth name : jeon jeonggeun (전정근)

nicknames : playboy jeon , korea’s heartthrob , dancertron

birthdate : 1st september , 1997

age : 28 (korean age) / 26 (international age)

zodiac sign : virgo

birthplace : busan , south korea

hometown : mandeok-dong , busan , south korea

current residence : yongsan-gu , seoul , south korea

languages : korean (100% - mother tongue) , japanese (60% - advanced) , english (55% - general knowledge)

────────── PHYSICAL TRAITS.

height : 5’10 ft / 177.8 cm

eye colour : dark brown

natural hair colour : black

modifications : piercings , tattoos

blood type : a

faceclaim : jeon jeongguk (bts)

────────── CAREER INFO.

stage name : dex

debut date : june 13th , 2O13

positions : lead rapper , main dancer , vocal

current state : serving mandatory military service

active years : 2O13 - n/a

agency : bighit music ; hybe

trainee period : 2 years

representative emoji : 🐺

voiceclaim : jeon jeongguk (bts)

dance claim : taemin (shinee)

rap claim : bobby (ikon)

────────── PERSONAL INFO.

mbti : entj-a

family : mother , father , older brother , twin brother

positive traits : efficient , energetic , self-confident , strong-willed , strategic thinking , charismatic and inspiring

negative traits : stubborn and dominant , intolerant , impatient , arrogant , poor handling of emotions , cold and ruthless

────────── HIS TRIVIA.

he was born in mandeok-dong , busan , south korea.

his family consists of : mother , father , older brother , and his twin brother who debuted alongside him in bts.

dex is the older twin to jungkook by ten minutes. it was said by his mother that dex had cried nonstop for those ten minutes until jungkook was born , and only then did he stop crying.

education : baekyang elementary , baekyang middle school / shingu middle school , school of performing arts seoul , global cyber university.

growing up , he never had any dreams of being an idol , but he had a natural talent for dance so his friends would always encourage him to pursue competitions. he won many awards prior to joining bighit.

he choreographed the dance for newjeans’ debut single ‘attention’.

due to him sharing a birthday with jungkook , they have joint lives where they celebrate their birthdays with army.

his “ mic drop ” fancam is the second most watched fancam in the history of k-pop , just a million views behind s!nea’s “ fake love ” fancam.

dex said the body part he is most confident about on himself is his abs.

to the members’ surprise , he sleeps in everyone’s bunk but his own. he’s very clingy and always needs someone / something to hug or he can’t fall asleep.

his favourite colour is black.

when asked to rank the most attractive member , he said he’s always liked those on the smaller side. he thinks yeonix and jimin are at a tied first.

he was considered the ‘ big brother ’ of the students in his school because he was the first person they would come to if they were ever bullied or in trouble.

his favourite number is 25.

he is said to have a short temper and can easily be riled up by disrespect. he has many diss tracks but they’re not explicitly addressed to the people he’s talking about.

he once asked all of his members to write down the causes that they held most dear to their heart and sent donations to charities that aligned with them. he has donated over ₩100 million to various charities.

he has really bad eyesight so he wears glasses most of the time. he only wears contacts when he’s working.

he is ranked as one of the greatest dancers of all time in k-pop alongside taemin , kai , ten and fellow members j-hope and jimin.

some of his favourite foods are buldak noodles , onnuriye donkatsu , galbi jjim , dakbal and anything else that is spicy.

he has a party trick where he’s able to spin both of his index fingers in opposite directions at the same time.

in the dorm , dex is in charge of doing the laundry. sometimes he also helps jin with cooking for the members.

hobbies : partying , collecting shoes , archery , woodworking , origami.

he tends to keep up a tough facade and enjoys time to himself , but he can never say no to the members when they ask him to do something fun together.

he taught jungkook some dance moves to help him with his audition for bighit.

dex’s motto : “ your dreams won’t come true overnight , but if you quit , they won’t come true at all. ”

he got his driving license. (bts run ep.18)

he has a tuxedo pet cat who he adopted from a shelter in 2O19. his name is jeon junior.

during one of his dance competitions when he was younger , dex was invited to join a dance crew who had built their status from the ground up. they all called themselves ‘ the pyeonghye ’ which stands for ‘ brothers for life ’.

according to yeonix , dex can bench press an incredible 102.3kg as of 2O22 , making him one of the strongest members in bts in terms of raw strength. he can also lift members on each arm without a problem.

dex’s ideal date : “ anywhere quiet , where there aren’t a lot of people and we can just hold each other’s hands , bask in each other’s company silently without it being awkward. maybe a museum? i’m not too picky. i’d be happy as long as we got to spend time together. ”

💬 — other members about dex.

rm : “ he’s a man of mystery , almost the complete opposite of jeongguk. whereas jeongguk-ah is doe eyed and innocent , jeonggeun has a sharp look , like he’s always observing. i think he could have a been a real threat if he weren’t on our team for sure. ”

s!nea : “i think we get along well because we both enjoy silent company. he’s the type of guy that doesn’t flaunt his skills , but he has a lot of them. i asked him , ‘ why don’t you do something with these? ’ he said , ‘ no , i’m fine with using these skills just for the group. ’ i think he might be a workaholic. ”

jimin : “ he’s so serious. i remember how difficult it used to be to get him to smile when i first met him. he’s a complete tsundere , but i’m stubborn too! through my perseverance , i can make him smile a lot nowadays. i feel accomplished when i see that wolffish grin. ”

j-hope : “ he pretends to get annoyed and huffy when i try to cuddle with him or hug him , but i know he loves me a lot. late at night , he’ll come into my room thinking i’m asleep and apologise for being a pain. he’s a softie at heart. it makes me want to squeeze him even more. ”

yeonix : “ he puts on this tough guy act so he isn’t treated like a baby , but we’ve all been there to see him grow. at the end of the day , bangtan has two maknaes and i plan to spoil them both equally , and i’ll make sure geun-ah enjoys it as much as his brother does. ”

jin : “ oh , he’s incredible. he’s confident , isn’t afraid to speak up or help people. i think he’s perfect for a guy like me who is a little more shy. he’s my human shield , he’ll take over for me if i’m feeling nervous so i think he deserves the recognition of being worldwide handsome’s most trusted dongsaeng. he won’t let anyone down. ”

jungkook : “ he’s my partner in crime , my ride or die , and even though we’re twins , i see him more like a hyung. i know some people might not understand him , but i’ll always be by his side. i want to be there for every stage of geunie’s life until we grow old together so let’s live a long life! fighting! ”

suga : “ he’s a big flirt , incredibly charming. he’ll stroke your chin as he listens to you , or drop whatever he’s doing and pay complete attention to what you’re saying. he loves making the others flustered. it puts a cheeky smile on his face quicker than anything. he’s a brat. ”

v : “ we’re super close. the other members think i’m lying when i say this , but we’ve gone out together countless of times! seriously! we match each other’s energy and like to go out a lot so he invites me to parties and stuff. he’s really popular with a lot of people. i think even if he wasn’t in bangtan , he would’ve done something big with himself. ”

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