#the amount of stupid-ass acronyms we have now

[vermillioncrown]

an actual AU snippet: a number of different selves

bc @rozaceous and i keep teehee-ing about 'folie a deux' and aaaaall the au's we have for our dc-siocs

money where the mouth is: bonus snippet + concept for followers

(it'll prob just be like my longer mdzs au's with one written part and the rest is just back and forth)

impetus: roz and i saw a shitpost where someone laughed at "bruce wayne x reader divorce" and said "he's already going through it and people are really inserting themselves in the narrative just to divorce him lmao"

which we then joked "damn we'd be set. he could have whatever mistress he wants as long as we could have financial support and leave us alone. we'll play his trophy wife"

and then we both realized that there would be things we couldn't let go if we ever caught wind of it. like it would drive us insane to abide by it. and thus...a version of our si's w bruce (yeah you heard me, both of us)

so here's a thing, bonus only for tumblr🙂

“I put you two in that meeting to clear up any hard feelings,” Lucius stares dead-on at his screen. He tries very hard not to pinch the bridge of his nose—composure needs to be maintained. “It can’t have gone that poorly.”

“Time is a finite resource for us lowly mortals and I’m not getting that hour back,” Vivienne grits out. “A fucking PA—where does he get off on his high horse? I hope he explodes.”

What?

“—know how many people work here, Lucius? Let alone just my division? And you’re wasting everyone’s time with each dead-on-arrival concept that gets shuffled into our portfolio and then ‘mysteriously’ yanked when it’s just good enough to Frankenstein into whatever high school science project that’s hiding in some Gotham sewer tunnel.” Her tirade is caustic and not hidden behind the typical red lipstick smiles. “Morale is dipping. There’s only so much you can pay to keep mouths shut and stop turnover.”

Vivienne makes very good points—the fact she has the acumen even three years ago was why WanyeTech moved to fund her PhD and fast-tracked her as a technical director upon entering the workforce. She caught on very quickly—too quickly—that there were private uses of certain advanced concepts within R&D, and she cared. Fortunately for WayneTech, her diligence meant increase in efficiency for the company; they’ve won several bids that have extended their reach into two new industries.

(Fortunately, WayneTech is privately held and not subject to public shareholder scrutiny.)

Unfortunately for the Batman, it meant additional roadblocks for his tools and supplies. It was by God’s grace, or something, that Vivienne didn’t decide to either blackmail them or whistle-blow. What she argued for was more oversight and appropriate man-hours and billing for certain projects that went towards a ‘private use case.’ The willingness to help (out of logistical fury) took a load off Lucius’s shoulders, but it put two new headaches in his skull: one next to each ear every time Vivienne or Bruce complained about each other peripherally.

“Does His Dark Grace think he’s not subject to g-forces?”

“Lucius. I asked for four different configurations. It should be able to fit.”

“Love his idealism—of course we have the manufacturing tolerances of an ant colony!”

“This is over-redundant and unnecessary. It gets in the way of visibility. I need a design change by two weeks.”

...and so on, so forth. So Lucius decided to cut himself out as the middleman and make the two talk to each other. A direct stakeholder meeting to capture requirements and fulfill proposals, so to speak in company terms. As both Bruce’s long-standing friend and Vivienne’s superior for her tenure at the company, he’s in the unique position to see the similarities in their personalities and (perhaps foolishly) believed they would get along after candid discussion.

And somehow, it all went to hell in a hand basket. That’s probably on Lucius for forgetting that adults were equally susceptible to playground scrapping as his six-year-old son. Thankfully, there’s less physical dirt involved or impromptu weapons, even if Vivienne looks ready to rip her stiletto heels off to use as a real stiletto.

“Vi, what do you need me to give?” Lucius straightens and prepares to negotiate. The greatest vulnerability of adding good talent is having more people in the know. Loose ends. It’d be a blow to lose Vivienne, but as long as she doesn’t talk—

“He’s lucky he’s a net good,” she snarls, now pacing in front of his desk. “He’s fucking lucky city statistics are on his side.”

“Vivienne.”

She stops mid-rant. “What.”

“Are you terminating our agreement?”

Vivienne takes a few calming breaths before rearranging her stance into something more office-appropriate rather than riled up before taking part in an illicit cage match. “No, Chief Fox. I am not,” she answers with a placid smile, tone light and even.

“Then, what would make your life easier?” Lucius does understand that she’s doing them a huge favor at an equally huge cost from herself. There’s a lot of duties that are more effort and well-beyond what someone her pay grade should need to touch; the delicate situation requires her to be equal parts every role for end-to-end conceptual design to manufacturing.

When Lucius scouted Vivienne Yang from her undergrad in Gotham University, it was by chance—there were technical managers scouting and giving PR for various capstone projects, and he decided to tag along. There, as he was browsing various posters, is where he found her. The work done by her team wasn’t novel (just par for the course with undergraduate engineers), but it was the polish that caught his eye. A methodical approach to answering the prompts given by the capstone courses, justified scope, and structured analysis and design choices that made her team’s final concept (proposed electric car design) stand out. Their value proposition considered necessary support infrastructure and manufacturing as part of their considerations.

He called them ‘her team’ because it was clear that, despite being barely 5’6” with pointed choice of footwear and surrounded by young men over a head taller with the typical engineers’ mannerisms to boot, she called the shots. Oh, of course, her teammates contributed to the questions he asked (”Andy,” young-Vivienne barked, and Team Member Andy jumped in to answer about the drivetrain sizing), but she was the systems integrator.

This was the type of skill that took years to build—usually, years of practical experience on the job—and she had it as intuition. And when Lucius corrected certain assumptions on their design, she didn't take it personally but was instead able to promptly speculate how that would shift their design point.

Thus, he put out an immediate sponsorship for her to grab an advanced degree (or two), school of her choice, research topic to be approved by whatever technical manager in WayneTech that acted as her liaison, and would jump into a stable job with a salary and employee benefits other grad students could only dream of.

Landing something as prestigious as Director of Advanced Concepts, slated for Chief Technology Officer by her 30s, in a Fortune 500 company? Barring the fact that the work was based in Gotham, crime capital of the United States, it would be something like pure fantasy to any aspiring engineer.

She took the sponsorship offer, and Lucius learns over the years that she financially supports her family living out-of-state and genuinely enjoys the various industries that intersect within WayneTech’s R&D. She likes a job well done, is practical and professional (if not overly enthused) when defense-related bids come across their table, and disdains many of the big research or tech conglomerates that make the news for various crimes or “waste of brain cells and human effort.”

Her morals aren’t obvious, but Vivienne’s choice to support Lucius’s efforts to protect Bruce in his uphill crusade is her character vouching for the Batman, even if she dislikes the actual man behind the mask and his design requirements. That she considers it still of worth is something that Lucius needs to compensate her for.

Lord knows had Bruce actually gone through with that projectile design, he’d have already lost an eye. If Vivienne says his proposed ‘Batplane’ design will vibrate into smithereens, he’s inclined to trust her on that.

“I’m going to start calling him an idiot and vetoing stupid requirements,” Vivienne declares, one eyebrow raised like she’s daring him to object.

“You mean you haven’t been doing that already?”

“Lucius, I have been nothing but polite to him. You have the CCs,” she refutes, looking at him incredulously.

He’s not sure by whose standards her scathing emails can be considered ‘polite’, but of course she can be worse. He needs to smooth this out, redo the first meeting ASAP. His hairline can’t take more of this.

“Fine, alright. Just—let’s try to set up another discussion. I’ll attend this time.”

Vivienne actually snorts. “Guess I’m never beating the PA allegations.” She looks down at her watch. “Fuck. Should have just written you an angry email. How am I going to make it five blocks in ten minutes?” She mutters and just as suddenly as she invaded his office, she strides out with a distracted, “Okay thanks, I’ll continue this later.”

He’d rather she not, but it seems she’s sticking around the Wayne Enterprises HQ building to call into her upcoming meeting; he hears her requesting a fresh notepad, a hot cup of coffee, and a private conference room and everyone outside honors those requests immediately.

That’ll give Lucius about two hours to process Vivienne’s rant, track down Bruce for his side of the story, and figure out how to smooth things out. It shouldn’t be unreasonable.

His phone call to Bruce shatters his expectations.

“You called Director Yang my what?”

[corviddusk]

I genuinely don't understand why people think it's dangerous for me to openly state that "Hey I have DID and I'm a system because I grew up in a cult that trafficked the kids because why just abuse children for your own gain when you can get money to fund your cult by also letting others abuse them" is somehow going to end up with people like obliterating and nuking me into orbit. I get that it's technically sensitive information and specifically I have a tendency to overshare to the point it's concerning- but I've really lessened the amount I overshare.

Yeah though luck for me I was raised in a cult, I got trafficked as a kid and my body is fucked up because of it not even considering the fact I'm deformed from birth. But I'm safe now I survived.

Then again the SECOND CULT I recently got into ended up using my status as a cult survivor to cover their ass and go "see this cult survivor who I'm abusing doesn't see this as a cult since I groomed them since they were 18" (Also also I again want to be clear the second cult is a cult of personality. This is by no means comparable to the destructive cult I grew up in. This cult of personality was through the internet and though I was considering eventually moving to a specific location due to said cult I never got that far. Cults of personality are scary but I do not want to fake it being worse than it was. This one was nothing compared to my childhood- if anything I'm stupid for falling for it. Numerous people told me it was a cult and I ignored them.)

It's just such a weird area for me. Like it does mean bad actors can take advantage of that about us... But also the same issues we have are there regardless. I can't erase my history and I don't want to use an acronym with a questionable history to express why I am the way I am.

I grew up in a cult and I'm a mental headcase to the point I'm looking into a second therapist because I need a team to treat me. I can't erase that I'm genuinely deeply fucked in the head and need serious help. It won't go away just because I refuse to state it.

I am going to call my trauma what it is because I can.

[ficauthor]

inspired by the prompt by @danphanwritingprompts:

Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion. “Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. Maddie scowled. “Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him. “It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

and some other headcannons that I've seen float around tumblr about trans Danny fic below cut if you dont wanna follow the link.

Looking out the window was making him nauseous, like really  really nauseous. The kind of nauseous he only got when sick or from a good punch. He knew a thing or two about good punches. He’d been taking them for a few years now.

It really wasn’t fair if you asked him. One should ask him because it was an experience that only he could experience. After all, halfa's were rare as can be. Skulker had certainly told him enough for him to know. Every brush with alcohol in his younger days was, well, a mixed bag. He processed it faster than the average person so he was lucky in that aspect that he got drunk faster. But if anything his messing about with alcohol before he was 21 told him it was that it also left much faster than normal. Bullshit ghost rules and all of that. Genuinely being a ghost even half one had very few upsides. Some people online speculated about how cool ghost powers must be to have but clearly none of them knew about the burden that it came with. Sometimes he still wished that he didn’t know. 

However this time for whatever reason the alcohol was hitting him and staying. Maybe it was because the previous times he’d been drinking cheap party booze in Dash’s garage with Sam and Tucker, no one but the three of them aware that they were even there. Instead this time the booze was some semi expensive shit, he didn’t know the name or type but he’d been promised quality. Why he of all people was being given quality alcohol he'd never know but he wasn’t going to turn it down.

That being said seemed the trade off was intense nausea. It wasn’t that bad all things considered, he actually preferred being sloshed for the upcoming event but his body was not agreeing with that. Not that his body agreed with a lot of things. The disagreement between ghost and human sometimes really bit him in the ass. His head was floaty, the world in front of him was spinning badly, maybe it’d be worth it to never drink again. Especially if he was going to have this reaction . If only he’d invited Sam and Tucker. They were great fun and always knew how to reel him in. Man he missed them, if only they didn’t all go to different colleges. But nooo all of their majors just had to have few overlapping colleges. At least they were all within a drives (or in his case a flying) distance. When he wasn’t feeling too sick and unbalanced he’d have to fly over to their dorms for a movie night. It’d be nice. Sam might even be able to get them into someplace cool again.

In a stagnant attempt to push the feeling away he turned away from the window and towards his family. Jazz was studying a text on her phone. Probably a message from her girlfriend at university. Maybe she was inviting her. That’d be nice. She seemed nice when he’d saved her as Phantom a month ago, then everyone was nice when their life had just flashed before their eyes and they were rescued from it’s visions. Even when he and Valerie were on the worst of terms he was always grateful when ever she rescued him in either form. Bar Johnny 13 his sisters' taste in partners wasn’t actually all that bad. He actually liked her last girlfriend. Even then with Johnny he wasn’t sure how much of that was actually her taste and how much was Kitty’s possession. 

Certainly Jazz’s apprehension couldn’t be blamed, three of her previous partners both highschool and college were driven away by how weird their family was. She claimed she was fine with it, something about them not truly accepting all parts of her but still. That sucked. School had been rough enough, he couldn’t even count the amount of people that had been weirded out from being his friend because of his parents. Well there was also his reputation but his parents being renowned ghost hunters and chaotic town kooks certainly did not help. Looking back on it more of that might have actually been on his reputation. A nerd with A+ grades until highschool only to then end up with Ds on the best of days and bruises on the worst. Yeah some of that was probably on him.

Jazz gave him a look, he’d spaced out and looked at her for too long, it was weird now. He gave her a shrug and turned to their mother.

Laughing would be rude; he had to remind himself when he spotted her dancing along to the car radio in her dorky adult grooving. It was peaceful in a way. A down time he didn't usually get to appreciate before something bad (normally ghosts) interrupted. It was almost nice in a way to be calm with his mom and sister. Even if the former looked really really stupid.

He snorted anyway at his mom’s dance moves. Discombobulated shoulder jerks and little hand motions mixed in with little head rolls that had no rhyme or reason. It was wildly out of beat and didn’t match the tone of the song on radio. It was definitely the kind of dancing that Tucker would disparagingly call “white people shit”. The thought alone of Tucker's pain at his parents' dance moves was almost enough to send him into hysterics.

Man he missed Tucker.

He’d have to check in on Tucker soon, since he started the latest school assignment he’d sort of ghosted everyone, for the lack of a better word. It was probably the stress of dealing with his assignment partners, he’d done the same last time. Still… in a town and world with ghosts it couldn't hurt to try to check in on him. Tuck was a big boy now he could hold his own in a ghost fight but he didn’t like the idea of leaving him to it. Call him what you will but obsessions were just like that. 

Maybe he was a little possessive.

Just a touch.

“Oh Danny!” his mom squealed as a new song filtered in. The Uber driver rolled his eyes, clearly he thought no one could see him but Danny caught it in the rear view mirror. ” I love this song, isn't it rad!”

He tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was so ridiculous. His parents were doing this on purpose! They had to be! There was no way that they weren’t no one was that out of touch. That behind on lingo. Warm giggles and chuckles bubbled forth, messy and loud. The kind of laugh only those closest to him could coax out of him. Back in school it was only Tuck and Sam that got him to laugh like that (maybe Jazz if she was lucky) make him lose his composure so quickly, but more and more readily his parents had been able to also force the laughs out of him.

If only fourteen year old him could see him now. He’d be so embarrassed. Sitting in the back of an Uber laughing openly at something silly his mom was doing.  She said something he couldn’t catch, teased him probably for laughing. A random pop song and the air coming in from the drivers open window were just loud enough to cover even a raised voice. Even still the there was comfort. Whatever she said was from a place of love.

He loved car rides sometimes. He didn’t always appreciate them when he was younger, kind of like how he felt about his parents. Especially when he was 14 but now? They were some of his favourite times spent with his parents. He just couldn’t help it, something about the rolling scene and music with easy conversation lulled him. It helped keep his obsession at bay, blocking it from flaring if he could see that some of the most important people in his life were there, in front of him safe and sound.

He still ached. Felt that compulsion to check Sam and Tuck. Rather than scream like normal it was a soothing whisper. He was able to drunkenly send them a text about how much he loved them without the skin crawling need to see that they were still standing.

 The Uber slowed to a crawl, the Sudan squealing as they stopped. Man that guy really needed to replace his breaks. He could get in a wreck and then whoever he was ferrying around could get seriously hurt.

No!

He shook his head; he couldn't let his obsession obsess on something so small. It was probably safe to look out of the window again so he chanced a look. Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion.

“Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. 

Maddie scowled,“ Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him.

“It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

Damn he hadn’t meant to forget the occasion but he couldn’t help it his mind was already prone to wandering and the alcohol was just making it worse. Really it was a miracle he passed highschool in the first place, even when sober his mind just struggled to latch onto subjects, and that was before he had to nightlight as Phantom, hell it wasn’t even nightlighting it was a full double life. Really he didn't even know how he was managing college with the heroing on the side. Best guess if he was pressed to give one was that his parents’ disappointment and the desire to go to space was combining into the ultimate peer pressure. Funny how his brain worked like that, maybe Jazz could explain that to him. She was good for stuff like that. Explanations for why his brain was weird. She tried to give him an acronym for it one time something with A's. An attention thing of some sort. He'd have to ask her about it again sometime so he could wrap his mind around it.

“Hey!” Jazz opened the door, her face inches from his, the scent of some fruity cocktail on her breath,” get out Danny, and remember, act normal. At least for dad’s sake.”

“Yeah,” he waved her off stumbling to his feet, honestly it wasn’t fair that the ground was so unsteady beneath him, kind of transphobic if you asked him. “If you wanted me to act normal then why’d we all get plastered?” he joked.

“Shush,” Jazz clamped a hand on his face, their slow amble up the church's  many  steps paused. “Don’t lick a gift horse in the mouth Danny, you know this will be insufferable.” 

He licked her hand, she recoiled, wiping the spit off on her fancy black dress. 

“Danny!”

He stuck out his tongue in retaliation.

“Behave, ”she chided.

He rolled his eyes and followed her. It was just a funeral, what was the worst they could get into?

 The second he stepped in the church threshold he knew. It put his whole body on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the faintest trickled of mist? ghost vaper? Ghost breath? He actually had no clue what it was that came out of his mouth. 

Well he never really understood what he was saying half the time anyways, his mouth had a habit of running out from under him. The worst case of that was just the other week, he was talking to Sam over skype about something and he’d forgotten that she knew about Phantom, how really he had no clue, and he just went on for about twenty minutes making some out there wild excuse for why he’d missed their last hang out when she’d stopped him.

Honestly it was getting embarrassing, even worse was trying to keep things he said to his parents in each form separate. He really had to tell them soon.

It was so easy when he was 14 the breadth of his conversations with them as Phantom at the time could be summed up with a snarky quip from him or a “I’m gonna dissect you” from them. Now though they seemed to be fully taking seriously the notion that ghosts had depth to them. Which while true was deeply inconvenient for him. That meant he had to have interactions with them as Phantom and keep his identity straight ( ha  ). Maybe he should be grateful, they weren’t threatening to dissect him anymore that was certainly a plus, they still definitely wanted to examine him however.  He had considered it, in the depth of the night, allowing them to examine him only to drop the transformation part way through. It’d be funny, just a little bit to catch them off guard like that. But they didn’t deserve a coming out like that. He stifled a groan, he thought he was done with the closet when he’d come out but no life just had to never end and add in ghosts.

“Danny,” Jazz hissed at him. 

He slurred out a huh at her in confusion.

Damn he’d been staring out at nothing, the Pastor? Priest? He didn’t know the difference to be honest, was still talking about Vlad. Shit that’s right! The second he’d walked in his ghost sense had gone haywire, Vlad was still (half) alive in that plush ass casket. He wondered how bad it'd be to fake a stomach ache and transform into Phantom for some ass kickery. Knowing his luck though Vlad might just feign full death embrace just to make a fool of him. 

He would do that, fake his death, hell he was doing it right now! Motive was still unclear to him but Danny was going to get to the bottom of it. The man at the front, religious figure of whatever denomination, was gesturing large and big as he wrapped up.  It was really official, and stuffy, when he finally fully died he wanted his funeral to be nothing like this. Maybe Tuck's ideas of dramatic funeral pranks were where it was at. Or maybe even Sam's ideas of celebratory parties that remembered the dead's life. He wouldn’t object to either of those. 

Alcohol was fading out of his system again, well it’d been nice while it’d lasted but it’d probably be best to not be sloshed if Vlad wanted to cause a scene. 

He sat at the edge of his seat as his father came up for a speech.

“Vlad,” his father stopped to blow his nose,” Vlad was a good friend of mine in college, w-we,” his lip trembled, his large jaw hammering up and down as he stammered for words. It took everything in Danny to not sink into the pew bench in embarrassment. Jack was for all intensive purposes the only person in the entire church that seemed genuinely broken up about the billionaire’s death.

“We drifted apart for a while, and he’d just started to come back to mine and my wife's lives a few years ago and- and- I-I sorry,” he winced as his fathers voice died.

While he didn’t understand his fathers affection for the man his heart couldn't help but ache for the man’s sorrow. His father had such a large heart. He was so trusting and held so much affection in his large beating heart. It was a weakness and a strength. One his mother often said he inherited. He didn’t know if he could see it. He wasn’t so soft, so trusting, so eager to love and care as his father. Then the larger man hadn’t been burned the same. Hadn’t had his heart half electrocuted to death like him.

His mom walked up on the stage, he was briefly impressed by her composure, she was buzzed but also in heels and looked to all the church exceedingly well put together. Quietly she was speaking her hands gently on Jack’s shoulders patting his back soothingly. She often sold herself short. Stating her heart not to be as big, Danny didn’t believe that, not really, his mother was just more careful in those she let in.

“I wasn’t as close to him as my husband,” she admitted, having softly taken the mic from Jack. her fingers were curled around it softly, but her other hand was in her hair. She was fidgeting and searching for words,” but I’m sure those he was close to will miss him dearly.” she said tight lipped. Jack whispered something to Maddie quietly making her smile tightly and nod. The man moved to his seat and let his wife continue his speech in his stead. 

It was nothing notable really, Danny wasn’t one for paying attention to speeches or lectures and a funeral would not be an exception. He caught a few snippets though, his moms implication that she liked him better in college. A line hoping that in death that he could hopefully move on from the past. He really tried to not laugh at that one clearly because she'd noticed the exes. How many of them had known before? How many of the exes had to learn of their blueprint right then and there in the funeral.

Still he sat teetering on the edge of his seat, half paying attention to her words and mind half trained on that open casket. Vlad lay there in the plush box waiting. What for he couldn’t tell yet but he wasn’t going to be caught unaware.

The speeches couldn’t have ended any slower in his opinion. He wished that the alcohol hadn’t run it’s course already. It was so much easier to get through shit when his mind was quieted and his obsession was dulled. Instead he was forced to wait, his waking obsession tearing at his insides making him wait. Watch the lingering guests with apprehensive eyes. A few were expected. Gaggle of divorced exes. Some smattering of people that vaguely had Vlad's chin and nose. It was bizarre, some looked wildly like him and others well. They were utter strangers to Danny. They all were but they seemed almost faceless in how unknown they were. Interestingly none of them really seemed that choked up. He’d never expected troves of people depressed about Vlad’s passing. Still to only have one sobbing mourner? Maybe they just grieved differently...

Yeah maybe.

About when he got his water from the refreshments table he realized that Vlad really wasn't pulling a stunt. Still he had no clue why he was in that damn casket if he was still (half) alive in there. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, his worst nightmare was being trapped in one of those, yet Vlad had clambered in willing foot after foot laying stricken and board straight for all that he knew to see him. It didn’t make sense. There had to be some trick.

There had to be.

He thought maybe after his father had bowed his head over the casket head in hands loud body wracking sobs shaking his shoulders that Vlad might then spring to life (ha) and attack them. No, instead he remained laying in that coffin, the soft plush pillow under his head holding him still, the flowers in hand still clutched in strict fingers. He must have some sort of long con going on then. Some sort of goal he was aiming to reach by laying stricken and dead.

Wouldn’t be the first time the man had pulled a bizarre stunt. The time he’d kidnapped Danny and his mom sprang to mind. But there were few situations that came to mind where faking one’s death could come in handy. 

A severe looking man walked up to him a small plate of hors d'oeuvres in hand.  Sam would hate the sight of the small snacks, not a single one was vegetarian. And Tuck? He’d be laughing his head off at the name and size. He really had to rope them into a trip to the movies or arcade sometime soon.

The man greeted him, straightening his professional looking tie as he spoke. The man was exceedingly out of place, in a clean and crisp business suit that hardly matched the tone of mourning clothes. Then his parents were wearing their jumpsuits under their fancy clothes so glass houses and all that.

The man was painfully dull giving Danny his condolences in a rather stilted and clunky tone. The man clearly didn't want to be there. He raised an eyebrow at the man as he finally asked how he knew the ‘deceased’. 

Telling the man something to the effect of, “Just through my parents,” somehow making it clear to the man that he wasn’t particularly choked up by the billionaire's death. Gee he wondered what gave it away, his flat unaffected tone? Or the fact that Vlad was a billionaire with no moral backbone. 

Huh, he must really be missing Sam a lot to be thinking like that. he hated to admit it but she was kinda right. 

Business suit was disinterested in conversation with Danny after that, he hastily wrapped up the conversation. Man even muttered “shame.” under his breath, if Danny wasn’t half dead he wouldn't have caught it. But well nothing ever really worked out well for bureaucrats did it?

Had Vlad seriously faked his death to avoid paying a few measly bucks? The man was a billionaire! He must really owe them a mean amount of money for them all to arrive at the funeral like this. Maybe they hoped the will would work in their favour? Not far in front of the refreshment table were two suits talking unabashedly about the amounts that Vlad owed them. If it weren’t for the setting Danny would think that they were coming or going from an important meeting.

For what was probably the first time he properly looked at all of the guests. Actually taking them in, a good chunk like he’d noticed before were the exes that half looked like his mom, and their kids (hopefully they weren’t biologically Vlads). Then there were the vague family members that looked like Vlad watered down with kindness. But the rest? Suits and-

Oh.

Oh he had to step behind an archway and stuff a fist in his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Vlad had fucking bounty hunters being sent after him! It was karmic, he had to stop himself from busting a gut right then and there in the middle of a church. It was already blasphemy enough to be the walking dead he didn't want to also throw in disrespecting the (only mostly) dead into the mix. 

Well at least they weren’t all debtors, lurking around the corners and edges of the room was a guy he’d worked with as Phantom a few years ago. He was kind of hot in a rugged sort of way. If it weren’t for Sam and Tuck he’d have considered flirting seriously with the other man. As it was his joking flirting got him in trouble with the other two.

He was really acting up being normal, that rugged man. Mingling about with other people dressed neatly.

Clear to only  Danny what he was, what the others like him were, the man wandered unaware that Danny was watching him. Ironically he only knew they were bounty hunters because Vlad had hired the rugged man and his crew to hunt Phantom that time a few years ago and now? Oh the tables have turned. Someone, maybe one of the exes, or the debtors wanted him dead. Damn what had Vlad done?

Ghost Zone inhabitants had mixed opinions on him, many of which wanted him dead or knocked down a peg. But that was the Ghost Zone, half of them wanted  Danny  dead at some point or another. This was the human world. Earth and shit, it was much harder to piss off someone to the level of murder. Not impossible but damn. He grinned at this, Vlad was (half) alive and (sorta) well in that casket and he couldn’t do anything if he started to stir shit up. Life was beautiful, twinkling and gorgeous, he decided. He Didn’t need Tucker and Sam to have fun.

 He started with one of the exes. He went out of his way to ignore her dyed red hair and pale purple eyes as he talked with her. It wasn’t her fault that Vlad had a complex, he reminded himself as the woman talked. Fault couldn’t be pinned on her for the parallels he could search between his mother and her. She was nice in a weird way, again really like his mom. It was unnerving. He kept trying to ignore her beady eyed gremlin of a child as she talked to him about the will. 

Whatever Vlad had done for all the people in his life to only care about the will and the will alone Danny wanted to do the express opposite. It was almost painful in a way to watch all of these people act like they weren’t only here for the money. Served the man right, it was still depressing, the man had everything on paper but not a damn thing in reality.

“Do you think his daughter will show?” he tactfully added into the conversation after the woman had made some condolences about his family and Vlad. 

“Daughter?” the woman asked, her large eyes blinking slowly,” I'm sure you're mistaken, Vlad told me he doesn’t have kids.”

“Oh,” he said, feigning apology, inside he was loving this, sure Vlad couldn’t admit the truth about the clones but clearly the man had seriously left out some details to his ex lovers. “Are you sure? ‘Elle is nineteen now,” he said, it was technically true if you counted right. She was also only seven if you counted right. It was all about semantics.

“Ninete-” the woman stammered something hard settling in her eyes,” he told me he didn’t want to have children,” she looked down at her angry eyed child (he hoped the little dude didn’t kick him in the shin) who had a hand fisted in the end of her dress. “If you’ll excuse me, Daniel, this was an- enlightening conversation.” he watched her walk away to a woman with a big chunky bracelet.

Also a redhead. Of course.

A sharp pain seared in the top of his ear he prevented himself from yowling out as the fingers attached dragged him over to a corner.

"ow ow ow," he whined out quietly trying heard not to draw attention to himself. It didn't really work.

“What the  fuck  are you doing?” Jazz hissed at him when they were hidden away from the rest of the group.

“First of all: ow!” He rubbed his ear delicately between his finger pads,” I’m not a child anymore, maybe borderline sibling abuse was funny in 80’s sitcoms but it's not anymore.”

Jazz rolled her eyes,” second of all?” she pressed, she was still slightly buzzed and yet she was still holding herself with so much composure. Kind of impressive, if she hadn’t just physically threatened to rip his ear off.

“Secondly I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Not do-” Jazz floundered,” Daniel!” she hissed out again struggling to keep her tone low. Damn she was mad, she only pulled out the full name when really fucked up,” I know your relationship with Vlad was- complicated.”

He snorted,” he tried to kill me multiple times, Jazz.”

“Yes bu-”

“Dark Dan,’’ he pressed further.

“I get it!” she snapped in a whisper-shout,” but a funeral isn-”

“He isn’t dead Jazz. Or really fully dead I guess I should say,” he laughed

Jazz rolled her eyes,” This is concerning behaviour Danny.”

“W-what?” he asked.

She tapped her chin pensively, she was psychoanalyzing him again, gag, “You must be transferring your complicated feeling about him into-”

“Jazz,” he groaned. It was best to stop her before she got on a roll, “Ghost senses remember? He’s still not fully dead, I can tell. He faked his death.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh," I'm not saying I believe you, but say he did fake his death-”

“He did.”

She shot him a look, “Why? Why would he fake his death? He’s a rich ceo multi-billionaire with more money than most of us can conceive of, nonetheless actually obtain, what does he get out of faking his death?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, this was easier when Jazz was talking to one of Vlad’s cousins ignoring him stirring the pot. 

He explained what he’d pieced together so far, with the suits and hunters lurking around the edges of the room it was easy to point out how out of place they look. Slowly a realization fell on her face, an acceptance of what he was saying.

“When I was talking to the stepford exes they were all talking about who would get the estate.”

“Do they know who?” he asked.

Jazz shook her head,” no the will was kept really secretive from all of them. There was even a bit of an altercation from two of the younger ex girlfriends over it.”

He winced at that, he couldn’t blame them for being mad he just wished Vlad wasn’t faking death for them to take it out on. “The bottle red and the one with the big bracelet?” he prompted, remembering the end of his conversation with the former.

“No that’s Maddison and Maggie, the two that fought were Morgan and Melenie.”

“Maddison? Maggie? Morgan? Melenie?” he repeated with a grimace voice getting higher with each name.

“Yeah I know,” she said with a sigh,” a textbook case of projecting an ex, or in this case crush, on future partners leading to a string of failed relationships,” she frowned looking over at the group of clustered red heads. Danny followed and examined them, they were all looking at something their eyes occasionally darted over to- 

Oh of course, mom, they ‘d probably done the math already. He winced at the thought. He’d half thought about it before  finding the notion funny. Now in his sparkling sobriety of the evening he couldn’t find the humour.

“At least they all mostly get along,” Jazz offered, trying to look away from how the dozen or so women were looking at the one woman they were all stacked against.

“Really?” he blinked at her,” I’d have thought that they’d all be fighting cause of the- well you know,” he gestured to the, everything, of the situation.

She shook her head,” no, they seem to all understand that it was all on Vlad, two of them, Mackenzie and Melody,” she clarified to even more of his confusion,” even found out that they were seeing him at the same time. How they didn’t know with all of the press that followed him I’ll never know, but they decided to team up on the legal front if there are any issues with the will.”

“Really.”

Jazz nodded,” yeah I was surprised too, but good for them, Vlad went around causing too many issues in their lives.”

He nodded in agreement as he looked at at the sea of redheads, some of them had grown out their hair revealing dark roots, some had hair styled in poufy curls reminiscent of his mothers old style and one of them had completely cut her hair into a half shaved look, it was actually similar to the look that Sam had now.

“Want to cause some problems for him?” he asked.

“Danny, legally and socially he’s dead, what could we do?”

“Legally yeah,” he agreed,” but technically he’s still half alive in there, and can hear everything that people say-”

“Are you suggesting that we ruin his reputation?” Jazz asked with a poorly hidden smile. He loved that in the years she’d loosened up. It was a good look on her, relaxation.

“Ruin?” He said, in mock scandal, ”I'm merely suggesting we bring it down to where it belongs.”

“Oh ‘merely’ what is that a fifth grade word? I'm impressed!” Jazz teased.

He shoved her lightly with a laugh,” oh fuck off I’m in college now you know.”

“Really? Accredited and everything?”

He stifled his laugh,” shut up, you know dealing with ghost shit messed with my grades.”

Truthfully he’d expected her to joke further about it, to razz him about doing so much, or maybe analyze him, diagnosis him with trauma. Instead she hugged him.

“I’m sorry so much was put on your shoulders so young,” her voice was raw. Too raw.  

He patted her back, stomach squirming. Because what was he to do with that? The tender care held for him in the cracks of her fingers. The sorrow that settled in her pores all for him?

“Hey stop that,” he eventually said, pulling back,” or I'll make clockwork take me back in time so you never find out.” He didn’t mean it, he never did.

Jazz laughed a little wetly, he didn’t comment on it. Why would he? Also didn’t get a chance as she ruffled his hair, despite the fact that he was now much taller than her. “People are allowed to care about you, asshole.”

He scrunched his nose up at that,” ew what? I detest affection.”

“Oh detest another good one, really racking up those vocab words huh?” she sniffled her hands on her hips, a little lean in her back as she smirked.

Snorting, he stepped back and fixed his hair,” how about we make this a competition?”

“Huh?”

“First one to make Vlad burst out of his casket and rage in ghost mode wins.”

“Really? What would the winner get?”

He tapped his chin making a humming noise,” how about this, loser has to reveal their secret.”

Jazz laughed nervously,” I don’t have a secret Danny.”

Danny gave her a look,” Jazz, I’ve met your girlfriend.”

She bit her lip looking down at his outstretched hand, a debate playing in her eyes.

“Hey you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he said softly,” this is just meant for fun after all.” he knew better than most what forcing this stuff did.

”No, it’s fine,” she took his hand and shook, if a little clumsily,” that doesn’t mean they have to meet her though.”

“Oh don’t worry,” he said,” it won’t be my fault if they do that’ll be entirely on them.”

“Danny!” she exclaimed at him as he fled to the other side of the church. Finally this funeral was going to be interesting!

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked the swaying uncle of Vlad. The man smelled of beer and hors d'oeuvres. Not that Danny could judge if it wasn’t for the thick layer of spray on deodorant that his mom smothered him in right before he got in the uber then he’d probably smell just as rank. Then there was the fact that he’d pregamed to.

The older man narrowed his eyes at Danny, he was shocked to see the man he looked to hardly be much older than Vlad yet he was his uncle? He’d gone to ask about it but thought better about it, the less lore he knew about Vlad’s family the better, he really didn’t want to know about how many kids and when and how the Masters ‘clan’ had. Conversation with the older man was… stilted, to say the least. But he was certain that if he told him something then it wouldn’t get back to him. And that was half the game wasn’t it? Finding a way to spread the most rumours without people finding out it was him or Jazz. All without powers of course, that almost went without saying. 

The man didn’t seem too broken up about Vlad, they probably weren’t that close and Danny had always gotten the impression from the billionaire that he was a smidge too snobbish to fully have developed relationships with people. As often as he teased Jazz for being snobby, she at least was nowhere near as bad as Vlad. Man damn near invented snobbishness and assholery. He’d have to ask clockwork if Vlad’s ancestors were just as bad. Judging by some of his family, probably not.

“Well before he passed,” Danny prompted, pausing in a way to snag the older man's attention.

“Yes?” the older man asked when he didn’t continue.

“Well,” Danny fidgeted with his nail,”  you know his signed Packers jersey?”

The older man nodded eagerly.

Danny looked to the side,” it’s a fake,” he whispered to the man.

“Really?”

He nodded,” yeah, but please don’t tell anyone,” he added,” it’s bad enough that they know he was banned from buying the team-”

“He was what?” 

Danny fought to hide a smirk. He knew it’d be easier to sell this lie if he started smaller.

“I thought everyone knew!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, most of the town knows, it’s just, no one talked about it to be polite.” okay that might have been overselling it a bit but the distant relative seemed to really be drinking it in.

“What did he do?”

Danny looked side to side like he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

“Well a few years ago when he was closing the deal to buy the team he got caught stalking some of the members!”

“Really?” the uncle asked,” wha- why?”

Danny shrugged,” they never really found the reason he was following them, he was even trying to seduce some of the wives.”

The man gasped,” I- really?” 

Danny nodded. “But you can’t tell anyone you have to promise me.”

He watched as the man smiled in what he thought was slyness,” of course! I just, with all of those wives he had!”

 Within the next five minutes Danny heard the rumour circulate across the room and it had grown legs. How glorious those rumours legs were. 

“I heard he’d tried to break up a marriage on the team!” an ex wife (Maggie maybe?) hissed.

The other ex (Mary? The other woman might have called her) laughed,” would it really be any surprise? With what he did to Morgan and Melenie?”

The first woman nodded sagely,” fair I can’t believe I even fell for his tricks.”

All things considered the rumour was spreading well, and there was not even a gasp of a suggestion that he was the source. He couldn’t wait to hear what Jazz had invented, with the rumbles he’d already started to hear, it was probably great. Jazz always did have a way of getting into people’s heads. Find what interests them the most.

“So this daughter of Vlad's?” the woman he was talking to prompted, he vaguely remembered Jazz saying her name was Maddison. She’d found him again some time later; her child now safely deposited over by the other kids with their group babysitter. They were in the middle of the church now, the other two still whispering about the packers' spouses.

“ ‘Elle?” he asked as if he’d forgotten.

The woman nodded her curls bouncing as she did.

“Can I see a picture of her?”

He pulled up an older photo of them hanging out, the picture was grainy and they were both sticking their tongues out at the camera. Shit he’d really forgotten how alike they looked.

“You both-” the woman said before stopping. She glanced at his parents. 

Shit he had to go into damage control,” well she’s also my cousin,” he fibbed.

“Cousin?”

“Yes! Technically once removed? Or something like that, I didn’t meet her until a few years ago, we were really blown away with the family resemblance!” he laughed. "Really it's uncanny!"  He continued.

Too far! Too far! He was leaning into it too much! It wasn’t like he could just tell her the truth, that Dani was Vlad's only successful half dead clone of him! Then he’d also have to out two things about himself to her.

“She travels a lot,” he added. He really needed to learn when to shut his big mouth,” she was in Paris a few years ago actually.”

“Really?”

He couldn’t even blame the alcohol! He was just this stupid naturally huh? They’d been saying it for years Sam and Tucker, if only he’d taken them seriously before this. His idiocy might really be terminal.

“Yup, I haven’t seen her in awhile though, hopefully she visits again!”

Scrutinizing eyes scanned him up and down, darting from each corner of his face hunting out the ruse. He really needed to learn to shut his big mouth.

“Do you have her number?”

Crashing noises filled his brain. Her number? The last thing that he had expected was interest in ‘Elle. he’d just thought that they’d get upset at Vlad and leave it at that.

“ ‘E-elle's?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry if this is prying but me and the other ladies,” she gestured to a few of them,” we’re talking and we want to support her!”

“I-” he hesitated, he hadn’t really planned for this,” what?”

The older woman nodded,” we all talked it out and if we get the estate we’re going to support one another and the kids, and it seems like ‘Elle just got stuck in the middle of this like the rest of us.”

“Yeah uh, let me just text her first?”

“Of course honey!”

Danny walked away from that conversation feeling distinctly weirder than before. Regardless he pulled up his phone and slid out the keyboard.

He opened up the “With an I” contact.

  Hey i accidentally got you adopted by like fifteen random women that used to date vlad

5:43 p.m.

  You what? Lul

5:45 p.m.

 He looked up around him before typing out the next message

  Yeah long story short he faked his death. Its weird

5:46 p.m.

I’m at the funeral and the exes wanna like support you?

5:46 p.m.

  Well Vlad wasn’t good for much but at least i now have a multitude of mothers

5:47 p.m.

  So i can give them your number?

5:47 p.m.

  Yeah have at it! If this causes chaos for vlad im all for it !

5:48 p.m.

“So her phone number is.”

By the time he’d separated himself from that conversation a few more rumours were floating.

“I heard that the reason he died in a car crash is because he was on the run from the law!” one of vlad's relatives whispered.

“Really!” another responded.

Elsewhere some of the attending staff were murmuring too. “I heard that he got caught smuggling maple syrup cans from canada!”

“Cans?”

“Yes apparently the good stuff is canned there.”

He walked to a new group this time with the suits.

“I hear that the money in the accounts is dirty.”

“According to my source his invested stocks were backed with illegal funds.”

“If there’s drugs really attached to it like I was told then I don't want anything to do with it.”

“I agree it's hard enough to get money from wills with spouses involved. It's even harder if the feds sniff any drugs.”

“It might not even be worth it to try with all of the ladies,” a different suit complained,” I overheard them talking about lawyering up together if anything goes wrong.”

Another much older suit scoffed,” this business was much easier before the exes started working together.”

Finally he heard his own new rumour starting to gain some traction.

“Wasn’t it found out that he was stealing science equipment from the nearby college?”

“Oh whatever for?”

“I heard it was for making a specialty shampoo.”

“I’ve always wondered how he kept his hair so nice and shiny.”

 Jazz was good, too good, considering that neither of them had really clicked into any social cliques in highschool. Now she was gossiping better than even any of the A-listers.

“It’s just such a shame that they can’t come,” Jazz was even fake sobbing, damn he was going to have to up his game.

“Who couldn’t come?” One of Vlad's older cousins asked, Danny wondered if Jazz was screaming inside at the hand she had around one of the older exes' waists, it was casual and tender. If one of Vlad's exes was getting together with his cousin because of the  funeral , Danny would shriek from laughter, hell if he accidentally used his ghostly wail it’d be well worth it. Vlad of all people deserved to have a partner snatching occur to him. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Jazz said,” I thought that everyone knew,” she looked from side to side,” please don’t tell the other ex wives Monroe I’d hate for their feelings to get hurt over this.”

Damn she was good. The wife- Monroe who was leaning comfortably on the cousin nodded.

“Of course Jazzie,” she said in a deep comforting New York accent,” this can be brought up to them later more delicately later.  Though I must admit,” she said after a pause where Jazz thanked her for her discretion.” I myself am curious who wasn’t able to come.”

“Well you know how he used to do ghost research with mom and dad?”

Where was she going with this? She was selling it well, Danny had to admit but for the life of him he couldn’t guess where this was going.

“Yes of course,” the cousin nodded as Monroe spoke.

“I can’t name the amount of times he used to write home in our youth about his little ghost adventures,” the cousin added.

Jazz nodded ,” well at the school there was the Lunch Lady Ghost and the Box Ghost, he was seeing them romantically in between their stays in the ghost zone.”

Danny held back a snort box ghost! If he laughed too hard in that moment he’d drop the ghost form and would fall on top of the group that’d gathered around her. As much control as he’d mastered over his abilities over the past couple years there was nothing that would be able to save him from Jazz’s wit. 

“I’m sure box ghost is very helpful for moves,” one of the crowd commented amicably. The others though had nothing to say. Clearly they’d all actually met Box Ghost. 

The gossip might have even stayed in that circle if it weren’t for another one of the cousins being right there and then deciding to tell his wife, who then told one of the ex-wives, who then told another, who then told a suit. So on and so forth.

By the time that Danny was back in human form and settled on the opposite side of Jazz’s conversation he was hearing the children that some of the wives had brought talking about Vlad ‘holding hands’ with the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady. Why couldn’t he have thought about that? It was so good, it was perfect, literally no one could prove it wrong. And embarrassing, seriously Box Ghost!

All the stuff he knew to be true about Vlad sounded so far-fetched.

Half ghost?

Well most people didn’t know about them.

The time he infected his two closest and longest friends with ghost pimples?

Needed the half ghost context. 

If only there was some-

“I hate Vlad!” one of the kids near him cried out stomping down his foot.

Unsurprisingly all of the kids agreed, okay he was a little surprised, usually Vlad had the wool pulled over on most people. So the fact that all of these kids  hated him really meant something.

“He stole my cotton candy at the fair!”

“Well he told me that I didn’t need to see daddy anymore cause he was gonna replace him!”

Eager ears pointed at them he drank in their every complaint. He’d known that Vlad was cartoonish levels of evil for awhile (see the infecting teens with ghost acne for personal gain as proof, or kidnapping him and his mom) but never had he truly expected for him to be so stupid as to do it all in the open in front of all of these kids. Then again some of this might be his obsession making him act out. Smallest sliver of him almost felt bad about that, the fact that Vlad was in a way forced to be this way, but it wasn’t really anything he wasn’t before. Obsessions just highlighted what was already there. Made it more severe.

 “Uhm excuse me,” he tapped the shoulder of one of the shorter women,” Mallory?” He'd asked the babysitter for her name but for the life of him he was struggling to keep all of the exes straight in his head. There were just too many of them and they all looked too similar to his mom.

“Yes,” her eyes flickered with recognition,” Danny?”

He laughed,” yeah that’s me!”

“Some of the others were mentioning you!” she said with a bright smile taking his hand,” thank you for telling us about ‘Elle! I can’t believe he kept her a secret from all of us for so long.”

He nodded in agreement,” well about Vlad-”

“Oh no, what else was he hiding?” she asked, there was a laugh ringing from her but Danny didn’t need ghost senses to know it was dead on arrival,” I’ve learned so much more here at his funeral than I ever did when we’d been together.”

He laughed a little at that, a stilted awkward laugh that only filled his chest halfway. He almost felt bad telling her about this, but she deserved to know the truth. “Well I overheard some of the kids complaining about Vlad.”

He filled her in on what he’d overheard about the kids, the petty little actions of Vlad. The cotton candy he’d stolen (which was weird he’s rich), the fathers he threatened to replace, it was all so bizarre. Danny was about halfway through when the casket began to shake.

Vlad masters was not an impulsive man. He was calculated, smart and forward thinking. At least he certainly liked to think so.  No impulsive man goes out of his way to plan his nemesis’ death and demise for twenty years. No reckless person would spend his time building an empire carefully crafting his abilities and connections for taking down his enemy.  Vlad however to his greatest distaste was in fact still half human and not infallible. While he was meticulous and in his personal opinion exceedingly intelligent he had no way to properly plan for wrenches in his schemes.

The fenton boy, Daniel was his biggest hurdle but it was only a matter of time before he found the right way to tackle the issue. He was just a particularly big roadblock. If only his emotional attachment to his dunderheaded father wasn’t so strong. These issues were all small potatoes compared to the one he was in now. The details can be spared and smoothed over all that was truly important was that he was at his own funeral.

He’d always wondered what people's reaction to his death would be. Contact with his extended family had been… loose, for the lack of a better term since his ‘accident’.  Deep down however he knew that when or if his time came, truly came, that they’d have a reaction. Probably sadness, he had been close to a few of them before his accident, hell he’d been close to them before his company had taken off. At the end of the day he simply had better things to do. Plans to make, revenge to ruminate on. It wasn’t his fault that they’d fallen to the wayside. They simply weren’t as important as Maddie.

He’d toyed with the idea that maybe his dear Maddie would sob over him, that she’d denounce Jack when she saw that he was no longer an option. How deeply poetic it’d be for that to happen. He never liked the idea of her only realizing their potential then but he couldn’t ignore the artful symmetry of it all. Some of the books that Maddie used to read in college had those even beginning and ends, those swooping through lines that tied it all nicely in a pretty bow. His first death had ripped her away from him. It’d gifted her to Jack on a silver platter, and his second oh how glorious it’d be if it drew her to him. Making her denounce her imbecile of a husband. Leaving the stocky man discarded.  Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and even with its harsh edges his death bringing her close to him was something to behold. If only that was what he was watching happen.

Unfortunately for Vlad Masters Owner, Ceo, and founder of Vladco. Life was not an art piece nor a well orchestrated game of football. No instead he got to lay still (half) alive in his exceedingly expensive casket and listen to the dolt sob.

It started like all of the worst things while heading to the Fenton's for another plan to be set in motion. The restraining order was still being held up in the courts so there was technically nothing legally stopping him from seeing them, or especially her. Besides he was a billionaire, those things were more fine machines than anything for him. Once it was enacted all he’d have to do was pay a fine.

Unfortunately it was during the drive that issues started. Again finer details notwithstanding for he’d run them all in his head a thousand times now while laying in this blastedly comfortable casket. While on the drive it became clear to him he was being followed.  No matter , he’d smugley told himself. He’d been followed by techbro fans before they were easy to deter. Easy to remove from his time and life. However in a deeply detestable turn of events the car following him did not belong to a fan.

He knew from the offset of seeing the make and model that it wasn't his average follower, those types usually had older beaters or worse highly expensive care that they had no business owning. No, instead this car was perfectly down the middle of class and price. How he detested those cars, they had no class. It was effectively similar to the many unmarked police cars that he used to have follow him during his brief stint as mayor. 

Regardless the car was tailing his limo, it was simple at first to attempt to outmaneuver them. Eventually his limo was pinned.

Blah blah blah mindless details later some pointless shooting at him with guns and he’d jacked their car. In the end it was simply easier to fake a fatal car crash. then there were all of those witnesses that had to see his death. Walking it back was impossible all circumstances considered. At least when they attacked him they only knocked his driver out, the legal case of that would have been a logistical nightmare and he still had some hopes of getting access to his funds later. 

It was almost funny in a karmic way. Almost as poetic as he had wanted pretending to be dead to be. Only problem was it was poetic in exactly the opposite way. The person that he hated most there sobbing the loudest. It’d be so much easier if it was Madeline sobbing. If she was sobbing, a faked death could be almost satisfying. If she melted down it could almost be worth it. Instead it was Jack Fucking Fenton. 

Numerous things were to be expected from his funeral, Daniel's arrival, yes, Maddie’s, undoubtedly. Even Jazz’s and Jack’s all expected arrivals. Some of them were more annoying than others but they were the requisite arrivals. Even his gaggle of ex flings was to be expected (they had to try and get their hands on the estate and money somehow. Well jokes on them he’d left it all to Maddie). No, what he hadn’t been prepared for was Jack’s incessant wailing and sobbing. 

The man was besides himself absolutely losing his mind right next to his goddamn open casket. It was getting hard to keep a straight face when he wanted nothing more than to leap from the plush silk sheets and throttle the man. His hands might not quite reach around the other mans thick neck but he could give it a good try he was sure. To put it simply and without intense amounts of rage he had mentally calculated for a lot of variables, not one of them being Jack of all people struggling to breath, choked out sobs instead of breaths coming from him as he hovered nearby. Not a single variable included being cried on by the most loathsome man in all of Amity Park. Every tear that fell on Vlad’s extremely expensive make up was another tally against the man’s. Had he no clue how hard it was to not flinch every time a drop of water splattered on his face? It was much harder than it looked he’d have him know.

Didn’t the idiot realize that he hated him? That he’d never cared for him? At least not since his death. 

Worse was when Maddie and the Fenton children staggered in, he could smell the alcohol on them from a mile away. It was tasteless! The smell alone nearly made him leap from his casket and throttle them where they stood (Maddie with exception of course). Have they no respect for the dearly departed? Have they no care for social decorum? Those Fenton spawn would never survive in high class society. Not like himself and Maddie. Oh how he wished he’d never gone for those pale imitations. They hardly kept up with all that he needed.

All he had to do now was ignore everyone and get through the funeral and he could be Plasmius full time. Pursue Maddie 24/7 with no worries of the law (though with some worries of Phantom). If only those blasted Fenton's would stop spreading rumours about him! And he knew it was them! Who else would say such outrageous things?

Okay certainly if one wanted to be technical Danielle was his daughter, but he hadn’t raised her. She was not his blood, she was not his in the most important ways.

Then there was that rumour about the-

“He-hey Vlad.”

Oh, oh no.

“I uh, I’m gonna miss you.” 

No no no no no! He couldn’t do this! He wouldn’t do this! He would not stand for this! He did not go out of his way to fake his death for this. 

Jack blew his big blubbering nose into a handkerchief so hard it honked. Honked! He was going to throttle this man at his earliest convenience. Getting cried on he could deal with, revolting as it was. What he couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with getting yammered at. That was not in the details. He did  not  plan for this.

“I- uhm- I know we weren’t really close these last few years.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Or really at all since college,” there was a wet laugh from Jack.

If that oaf ended up coughing slobber on him- Maybe if he tried hard enough he could die for real, that’d be nice. He’d never really craved death before, not like in this moment. It’d be so much easier if he just didn’t have to hear this.

“I-I know you didn’t really like me in the end.” 

Wait what? Had he finally gotten a clue? That was a first. Maybe his overt plotting had finally gotten through to the oaf. If Jack attacked him now that’d almost make this all worth it. He might even consider revealing he’s Plasmius if he did.

“I know I messed up, I-I must have hurt you, I don’t really know how, but- but uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Yes ye- He was what?

There was another laugh sob from his  ex  friend,” It’s probably too late since you’re uh- dead, but whatever it is I did to hurt you, I'm sorry. I hope,” he trailed off into a high pitched keening whine. 

Stop stop stop! This is not what he wanted!

“I hope you rest well Vlad.”

Footsteps receded away from him at that. 

Well what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? What in the world was he supposed to do with that knowledge? Internalize it? Grow and change as a person? He was (half) dead! He was well past the point of growth! He was beyond growth.

For all Jack knew he wasn’t coming back! For him and basically all of them he wasn’t coming back! The only person that would know was Daniel and maybe his sister if he told her. Maybe his brat friends if he messaged them. 

What did Jack get out of telling him all of that?

Certainly not money, the will had left everything to sweet Maddie, not him. Some sort of moral upper hand? A sense of feeling like he got one over Vlad?

No the dolt wasn’t that complex, his intelligence lay somewhere between absentminded and incompetant on a good day, there was no moral forethought. Yet why did the words settle so deeply in a corner of himself? Carving out a crevice in him that ached and burned?

“Did you hear about why Vlad couldn’t buy the green bay packers?”

Why? Why did it dig in his flesh? why when he’d thought he’d burned all of that away.

I'm Sorry.

“No, why?”

Life was easier when he was fully alive. College life was simpler. At least then he could fool himself that Maddie thought of him equally as she did Jack.

“Well I heard that he was stalking the team!”

What?

Why would he stalk them? He’d never stalked someone once in his entire life! (death maybe but he’d never admit that) he could buy all the tickets to their games he had no reason to stalk them!

There was no practicality in stalking them. Just like Jack had no reason to apologize to him! The idiot didn’t even know what he’d done to hurt him. He hadn’t ripped the apology from Jack. He wasn't on his knees begging from him. Hell he didn’t even know that he’d killed Vlad. Jack Fenton was as oblivious to the fact that he’d died back in college as he was to the fact that his own son was dead and playing hero as Phantom.

The density of the man was rivaled by no other.

But then why did he apologize?

“Did you hear?”

He got nothing out of it.

Why did it ache?

Burn? He wanted for years nothing more than to make the man sob and beg for forgiveness.

Why did having it fulfill nothing?

“About him and the Box Ghost?”

Would it burn just as painfully if he finally got sweet Madeline’s confession? Would it ring just as hollow?

“I thought it was the lunch lady ghost?”

No. There was something about Jack that made it wrong. Something about that blathering moron that lashed the words to him like a blade.

“I think it was both.”

And what the hell were they all blathering on about? What was all of this nonsense about Box Ghosts and smuggling and stalking? What were any of their empty little words? 

Did any of that really matter? Their blathering human rumours and petty squabbles when he, the very guest of honour in all ways but one was laying here before their very eyes on the precipice of something? He was teetering at some edge, he didn’t know what it was but he could just make out the shape of the hole he was almost toppling in, he just had to know what it was. He just-

“Well I heard-”

They heard- they heard! What did it matter what they’d all heard! Nothing that they heard could matter in the slightest not when he was dealing with this! Not when he was reeling with whatever this was! The weight and size of it completely overtaking him and yet none of them aware, he was suffocating being overtaken by the edge of knowledge some realization he’d yet to make and hee still couldn’t read it. All because they wouldn’t stop blathering on and on about what? Lies?

Stupid foolish tales spun by his greatest enemy!

By a child.

If it were not for the show and pageantry of it all, if it were not for the display that he’d set about around him he’d be yanking his hair by the roots, tearing it slowly strand by strand from his scalp. And if there was one thing that Vlad Masters was, it was a showman! He was dramatic and he was going to be so unabashedly it was not his fault that there was no one that yearned for his life to roll onwards like Jack. None of it could be held against him. He was a romantic! Everything he did was for  her.

Had it truly all been for nothing?

All these years.

Had she never really cared?

“Dirty money, attached to drugs. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pool.”

All this time.

Did he really-

“Never even mentioned a daughter!

All his schemes!

Jack's tears were so warm when they cut the thick funeral makeup.

“So many secrets for him to keep.”

Dozens of attempts on his life!

Did he really  care? The water on his face was still warm.

“Wasn’t the cause of his crash a run from the law?”

“Would you all just shut up already!”

Silence blanketed the church as Vlad’s voice finished ringing out the wooden box still perched on its little stage. The casket was still shaking and the flowers were falling from the box as the hush grew sharper. Energy crackled from the casket shooting out and blowing the bulb above. Glass fell from the light falling gently on the flower petals. 

None one spoke, Danny’s father had a hand over his mouth, new large tears welling up. He looked green and pale, unlike most of the stunned guests he looked like he was about to be sick.

Danny shot a glance at Jazz, she nodded and jerked her head to the side. He ducked out. Things were about to get hairy.

There was no response from Vlad for a second as it seemed the outburst was done. Even the children who’d been shrieking with laughter and joy from their play for most of the funeral were silent. The falling glass and shaking box were deafening in the silence. Danny ducked behind a pillar and into the doorway that led to the restrooms. There was no one there. The closest person was his mom but she was standing silent and stunned not an eye tilted away from the casket. He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t everyday your incel stalker had a breakdown after he’d legally died.

He transformed. On the most part there weren’t many people near the casket. It was just a few lingering Exes, most people were near the refreshment table. His first line of action should be to grab the people near the stage and get them to safety. Then?

Well the rest was adlib. 

At least he had stored the Fenton thermos in his suit jacket (just in case). If only Sam or Tucker were there. Things were so much easier with their help.

Just as he was about to jump into the situation, the group of exes all swarmed Vlad. Shit he’d have to replan everything. He wouldn’t be able to get in an ecto-blast with out the fret of hitting one of them. He could always try Ice or a little storm cloud?

Just as a new plan was starting to formulate one of them (Maria?) slapped Vlad hard across the face.

Smack.

The noise echoed loudly across the church.

He grimaced.

Oh.

He did not want to get in the middle of whatever that was. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of it at all. Backing back into the bathroom he turned back to normal. Didn’t matter what the situation was, he was not going to get in the middle of a dozen or so angry exes and Vlad. It was his grave (even if Danny had helped him dig it a little) like hell Danny was getting buried with him.

“Vlad Masters!” one of the exes screamed,” you slimy pathetic excuse of a man.”

Yeah Danny was not getting in that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to watch.

“Ow!” Vlad cried out, his eyes were glowing red, but aside from that he still looked very much the same. 

Weird, Danny didn’t expect him to stay in human form. He guessed it made sense if he changed into Plasmius the gig would be up. There’d be a lot of questions too. Knowing Vlad’s tendency to monologue he might even explain the concept of Halfa’s.

“M-Maria!” the older man stammered out,” darling hello-”

The woman smacked him again,” I’m Maggie,” she spat out.

Danny winced, yikes. Makeup covered Vlad's gaunt face but Danny could imagine the smarting red forming on his cheeks.

“Y-yes of course, how could I mistake your beauty, how foolish of me to compare the two of-”

The clearing of a throat interrupted as Maria herself tapped her foot.

“Maria!” Vlad exclaimed this time correct, even if taken by surprise.

“Yes,” the woman agreed,” but don’t mind me, what were you saying? Something about comparison?”

The billionaire awkwardly laughed as he seemed to take in the fact that he was surrounded by all of his exes. Phantom wasn’t even needed. Villain defeated right then and there by the rage and power of his many exes. Again Danny found himself desperate to find out whatever the older man had done to make everyone hate him so just to do the express opposite.

When he actually fully died he hoped his funeral wasn’t this… whatever plan he actually ended up with he just didn’t want this.

“So,” Jazz said as she settled next to him leaning on the pillar with him,” any idea what got him up?”

“Nah,” Danny shrugged looking over to his sister. She looked more sober now, less unstable on her feet.” He didn’t really decree what his gripe was this time.”

Jazz sighed,” so no winner yet.”

“Unfortunately,” he said,'' He also technically didn’t go ghost mode.”

Jazz groaned resting her head on his shoulder,” I wanted to go home, these heels are killing me!”

He stuck a tongue out at her,” shoulda transed your gender like I did,” he teased quietly.

“Ha! Really funny Danny,” she flatly commented with a roll of her eyes at the tired joke.

“Ah meany,” he pouted.

“You walk in these heels at a funeral,” she complained again,” At least if he went full ghost It’d be socially acceptable to ditch them.”

He bit his tongue remembering a rant that Sam had gone on recently about heels and social pressure. How she’d then thrown one of her platform boots at Tuck when he made a remark. Jazz probably wouldn’t appreciate his lovesick ramblings about them.

“Looks like we'll just have to continue to watch this unfold.” he said instead with a sarcastic twinge.

“Oh what a shame!” Jazz said flatly,” sucks to be us.”

Danny snickered as Vlad continued to try to dig himself out of his hole. How he wished Sam and Tucker were here. Unfortunately for him they were both far too busy. Ah well he’d just have to video it all for them.

How unfortunate for Vlad that he was made to sit through his own will reading, and how fortunate for Danny Fenton that he was the one that got to watch it all go down. In the entire time that he and Vlad had been nemesis he never knew just how much he wanted exactly this to happen. Actually if someone ever suggested this happening younger him probably wouldn’t have appreciated just how funny this was. No fourteen-to-fifteen him was far too invested in things like learning his powers and finding out just how observant the rest of town was. Also looking cool. Adult him however? Freshly 21 and college attending him? Oh he could enjoy the fuck out of this situation.

There was some minor debate among some guests over how ethical it was since Vlad's ‘ghost’ was now here to view the reading. Some point could be made that it might be weird...

“Isn’t it rude?” one family member had suggested.

But...

“It might be in bad taste,” another guest had even pipped up.

No one really liked Vlad anyways

“Oh no!” Morgan said,” I want to know what it says, and who better to see how accurate it all is.”

Oh how glad he was that those few were beaten out. How glad he was that the crowd was seeing blood. That the group was too nosey and invested in the drama to really get caught up in such small things as ethics.  How grateful he was that the exes were in half a mind to Kill Vlad a second time.

Fortunate he was, that his luck was finally turning up. It might even be the universe trying to pay him back for all of the shit he’d been dealing with since he was fourteen. Return investment on the untimely youth death. Honestly if it was it was a pretty bang up start all things considered. He’d have to find out if there was a ghost involved in the control of karma. They might just end up with an edible arrangement on their lair door. Older adults loved that shit so ghosts should too.

“Hm,” the lawyer said when they entered the room with the walking corpse of Vlad masters. The office was small and hardly held everyone, but snugly, far too snugly for comfort they all fit on the other side of the large desk.

No one said anything to the lawyer. Whether the man had been privy to the rest of the funeral or had just arrived Danny didn’t know but he had to admit this entire situation was bizarre even with full context. Not many of them knew ghost rules and the only ones that did were in either stunned or gleeful silence. There was no objection to the fact that Vlad had dragged his body with him, not a voice descenting on the fact that his form hadn’t shifted. Not a single attendee seemed perturbed by the fact that Vlad was not really a ghost.

Even the paid bounty hunters didn’t know how to discern ghosts from humans judging by their stunned expressions. Though he’d love to watch one of them attack Vlad in the middle of a church. Stabbing a man in the house of god might just be a big sin, though Danny wasn’t sure.

“Well this is unprecedented,” the lawyer commented,” never in my time have I ever seen a dead man rise for the reading of his own will.”

Vlad grumbled but no one could make out the words as the two exes on either side of him glared. 

Oh how fortunate Danny was indeed, never before had he ever been so glad for his untimely death. If it all led to watching Vlad squirm like this still trying to keep his alter ego a secret? Pain and strife, the many attacks and attempts on his life were worth it.

“Well if there is no protest,” the lawyer said. For a moment Vlad looked very much like he wanted to protest, but the glares of the exes kept him silent and made him snap his jaw shut. Danny knew what went into keeping a corpse looking fresh. Shame the mortician seemed to have skipped wiring the jaw shut. Then, Vlad didn’t seem to need physical wires to keep him silent and well behaved, his Exes were all doing that job very well.

“In that case,” the lawyer sounded queasy, if Danny wasn’t so invested with the drama unfolding he might have turned to verify. “Then I believe we will begin.”

The man started out by reading the long legal preamble, the paragraphs upon paragraphs of titles and information about Vlad that was included. Danny understood that him being the owner of VladCo was technically important for the will but did he need to include all of his ten titles at the company in the will? It just felt excessive. ‘Ceo, entrepreneur, founder, head of decisions, etc.’ did anyone care? Leaving out the most important title of ‘asshole’ was the biggest mistake of his will.

“Yes I think we get it,” Monroe said, her accent clipping the words in stiff professionalism. Bless her for cutting the pain short. “I do have,” the woman glanced at the cousin who was still holding her hand,” A more important social engagement to attend to with Carmila.”

The lawyer stammered,” yes of course ma’am my apologies.”

“It reads:

‘First, I hereby denounce all previous wills made by myself, Vlad Masters, no matter nature or kind.

Second I Vlad Masters hereby appoint,” the lawyer paused making a face before he continued,” Madeline Fenton love of my life as the executor of my estate, networth, and-” the lawyer paused,” the ownership of my beloved cat ‘Maddie the cat, the third-”

“Huh, I guess you listened to my suggestion after all and got a cat.” Danny muttered as at the same moment his mother reached her breaking point

“You what?” Maddie was standing out of her chair, indignation flaring in her eyes,” Vlad! I don’t want any of this.”

“But but,” Danny tuned the man out as he made the normal declarations of love. Trite at this point his mind was already trying to entertain itself. Fast forwarding this would be nice, if only his core was time based. But no he got Ice, and Weather, and other weird disconnected powers. He was electrocuted to death! Cruel that he didn’t get cool electrocution powers.

They were still arguing when he tuned back in. Loath wasn’t a powerful enough describer for this love diatribe that Vlad spewed every three to five business days. His mom yelled something back, a few of the ex wives even chiming in agreement. Well at least they didn’t hate mom that was a plus.

He shot Jazz a look as he repositioned his phone camera to get a better shot.

‘This again?’ he tried to communicated with his expressions. Tuck usually laughed when he tried and Sam told him he looked to constipated.

She shrugged and nodded as if to say  ‘this again.’

“I am happily married! I told you I won't leave Jack for you!”

Tuning out the conversation didn’t seem to leave out many details. Everything was falling exactly into the same patterns as always.

“Maddie please-” the billionaire tried to beg.

This made the woman snap,” no don’t Maddie please me! You have not respected my decision to marry Jack since it happened, well guess what Vlad it’s too late for you! You were never even an option!” she turned to Jack and put a hand on his shoulder. her voice much softer when she spoke,” come on honey we’re leaving. Kids?” She turned to the two Fenton children. The both of them stood with no protest. Like hell they were going to end up on the wrong side of their mother right now. Mission orientated as she was they had no doubt she could commit Vlad's murder and get away with it. legally she might even considering the fact that he was technically a 'ghost' right now.

Just as she was about to step out the door she turned,” oh and ladies, don’t worry about a legal battle I’ll work with our family lawyer to transfer everything to all of you.”

There were some small thanks from the stunned Exes as the office door latched shut behind them.

 The air in the car was-

Well the word tense didn’t really sum up the air but it was the best approximation that Danny had. It could have gone worse, he supposed he could have genuinely ended up fighting Vlad again. Chances where that if he fought Vlad while he was Plasmius that the formerly rich business mogul would then use the moment to out Danny as Phantom. Not just his family but all of the church. If he had to rate the evening it was definitely not as bad as he expected. About a six or seven, depending on his critical he was being.

“Uh so who won the bet?” he whispered to Jazz. he wasn’t worried about his parents, Maddie was soothingly rubbing circles on Jack’s back as the man drove. That and they were sat in the back, sometimes the front seats struggled to hear them at a normal level forget a whisper.

Jazz furrowed her brows,” I guess neither of us really won, he didn’t even go ghost.”

Nodding, he thought back to the man’s loud entrance,” He also didn’t say what rumour got him up.”

“So do we both lose?”

“I guess?” he looked over to his parents,” so we both tell them?”

Jazz sighed leaning back in her seat, hair dramatically laying behind her,” yeah I guess.”

“You don’t hav-”

Jazz cut him off with a snort,” no it’s fine, my things not really as big all things considered.”

Fair, she had a point with that. Their parents already knew that she was interested in men and women but still revealing partners to them was always weird and nerve wracking. The first time he’d introduced Sam and Tuck as partners and not friends he’d expected a lot more questions. Turns out if you hunt ghosts for a living nothing is really weird after that. They just bought him new sex ed books. Sentiment appreciated but still weird considering he could google that sort of thing now.

“So Danny,” his mom said, her fingers tightened on her phone. They were lucky she got old brick Nokias instead of those new Smart phones. She’d break them in a week. Jack wasn’t paying them much attention as he drove, he seemed to still be shell shocked. Hopefully he didn't crash, okay so maybe he didn't always like car rides. Sometimes the looming threat of a car crash really messed with his obsession.

“Yeah mom?” he asked.

“I was talking to some of the ladies.”

“Uh huh?” wherever she was going with this he didn’t like the tone.

“And imagine my surprise when one of them tells me Vlad has a daughter.”

“Weird right,” he said. Please stop, please stop! He begged, wherever this was going it was nowhere good. It would have been better if he’d just died in that accident. Screw whatever he thought back when he thought his luck was turning up. He was still the most unlucky bastard in all of amity park.

She hummed in agreement,” and imagine my surprise when they said she was your cousin.”

Danny didn’t have a response to that, Jazz was stifling a laugh next to him.

“And then,” she said,” she showed me a picture of her.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, Danny," there was a pause as she seemed to collect her words," why does she look like you pre transition?”

“Does she?” sweating wasn’t really something he did so much anymore, not since his core started cooling his mortal flesh, it was nice sometimes. But it didn’t stop nervous sweating. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hadn’t- Danny,” his mother sighed,” sweetie if you want to start presenting as a girl again you can. We won’t judge you.”

Wait what, “ what?!” 

Shrieking loud bursts of laughter came out of Jazz. 

“Jazz!”

That set him off, it was just so ridiculous.

“Honey I’m serious,” his mom sounded so upset her tone lost. She really was trying.

He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t his fault. It was just so out of the realm of what was happening. Man his parents really didn’t have any of the facts.

“Danny?” his father asked the tenseness in his shoulders from the funeral leaving way to confusion.

Him and Jazz made eye contact and the laughing got so much worse. If being part dead didn’t make him need to breathe so much less he’d be choking. He’d die, it was just- they still didn’t know and somehow that was all the funnier. God he was calling Tuck and Sam right after he explained everything they were going to get such a kick out of this. Especially Tucker.

“That’s not-” wheezes high and stringy, cutting him off, he was struggling even with his ghost lungs.

“Danny my boy,” Jack asked quietly,” what’s funny?”

“We’re trying to support you Danny!” his mother exclaimed.

Finally he quelled the laughter enough to speak,” okay okay,” he whipped a tear from his eye. “I’ll explain it all it just probably isn’t something dad needs to be driving for.”

“Danny what do-”

“Just trust me okay?” he grinned at his mom in what he hoped was reassurance. 

She sighed and looked at her husband, Jack furrowed his brows and the pair silently communicated before the man hit his turning signal.

 The small side road was perfectly out of the way enough that no one would be able to peer in. It was some half abandoned picnic area but none of them reached for their seatbelts to leave the car. It was just the closest spot they could stop.

“Okay,” he started giving Jazz a look, she nodded comfortingly,” Remember how the portal didn’t work at first?”

It took them a moment but they nodded in remembrance. 

“Right well I died.” it was best to just rip the Band-Aid off.

“What?”

“Danny- honey you’re not dead.”

He thought so at least, he sighed pinching his nose,” I need you guys to wait for questions till the end okay?”

“But honey you’re not dead!” she didn’t sound so sure as she looked him over.

“What your mother said my boy! You’re sitting right there!”

Danny groaned,” guys please?” there was a pause as they looked at each other and finally finally agreed to wait till the end. “Sam said I should check it out, see if I could fix it. I put on my suit, and,” he made a buzzing noise with his tongue,” the button shocked me to death when I hit it. It was dark so I didn't see,” he looked to the side. The trees outside were swaying peacefully in the wind. Jazz put a hand on his shoulder, he took a steading breath and clenched the hand with the thin invisible scars. “It was an accident but,” he turned back to them resolution in his eyes,” I died that day, When I woke up, well, brace yourselves okay,” he let the tugging cold of hic core shift and change his appearance.

There was silence. He’d expected something but, no, even Jazz wasn’t saying anything.

He cracked an eye open, his parents were staring at him dumbfounded. Yeah that was about par for the course.

“Well this happened and now, I’m half Ghost,” he admitted,” everyone in the ghost zone knows that’s why there were always so many attacks at the school.”

“Half?” his mom asked despite herself.

Danny nodded,” yeah I still age, and need to eat and breath... mostly on that last one. It’s kind of cool I can go invisible,” he demonstrated before changing back,” and phase through things and float,” he demonstrated both in succession allowing the belt to glide through him as he hovered up an inch. “Shoot Ecto-blasts… probably best if I don’t do that one in the car though,” he laughed.

“Okay,” his mom said. 

“Okay?” he asked.

His father nodded,” sure Son, we love you. It’s weird but, well we hunt ghosts for a living.”

He laughed,” yeah fair enough.”

"I-" his mom looked over at Jack," We're proud of you sweetie, that's a lot to undertake at so young."

he chuckled," it wasn't so bad, I had a lot of help," he grinned at Jazz," Between her Sam and Tuck I don't know if I would have lasted half the battles I did."

"You knew Jazz?" Their father asked his tone soft and slightly hurt.

She smiled softly," yeah, I walked in on him transforming. Thought it was best if I let him tell you guys."

"Part of the apprehension might have been the dissection thing," Danny addmited.

"I- honey-" his mom put a hand over her mouth in shock.

"I'm sorry son," His dad said," it was closed minded of us to assume stuff about ghosts we didn't know."

"Well you weren't always wrong. Just usually."

“So ‘Elle?” his mom prompted before Jack could pepper in questions about what the got right.

He sighed,” yeah her full name is Danielle, technically she’s the only living clone of me Vlad made.”

“Only living Clone?”

“Vlad made?”

Man he had a lot to explain. Years of events just gone unsaid. Some small part of the divide between them was shifting, growing smaller. 

“Is now a good time to tell you guys I have a girlfriend?”

Danny choked on a laugh. Not to long after his parents followed after the tension disrupted, Well at least he had Jazz to help explain. Sam and Tucker too when they weren’t busy. It'd be a mess and weird to finally clear the air between them, but at least he knew they were proud of him.

[wiccamoody]

Rules: List all your WIP titles, all meaning even the ones that are vague or nonsensical. Tag people.

thanks for tagging me @yammz!!!!! i have...a real stupid amount of wips and i tend to name things so boringly unless i already have a title for them sooo dsa;kdlas

ayo/sarah fic - what it says on the tin heh

phastos/ben fic - a theme is arising

david/patrick ons - apparently ons stands for one night stand i have never used this acronym before in my life what goes on here

this one will bring you love jake's 25th fic - jake will be turning 27 this year. sometimes i am very bad at finishing things

break free - can be found here. i will...finish it eventually even tho im not in that fandom anymore lmaooo

highkkuno & corpse - every pairing i love smokes weed eventually. i am but a stereotype of my home city

i didn't know that you were lonely - sambucky soul stone fic? sambucky soul stone fic 😌

sambucky smoking 5+1 - now what did i say above? yeah

alpine pov fic - alpine barnes my beloved

a week in the life of captain america - WEAK ass title jfc moody we gotta rename this

madripoor idk - yeah i truly dont know

and suddenly i see you - my reddie magnum opus that one day i will finish ashdklsajd

jake and moody write a fic - it's been 2 years. jake and i have not written this fic. she's in our hearts tho

mysu bingo fic - a fic that will be coming by the end of the month hehe

i have no idea who to tag bc i don't know who's done this!! but uhhh: @watergator @bisamwilson @cataroo :)

[tailorvizsla]

You didn't think I wouldn't ask for some Boba Fett though now did you? (Of course not, he is the new shiny for me iuwhei) ✨ HC Of my Choice... What about having your first kiss with Boba and he doesn't #know it is your first one till part-way through or after? Am I projecting? Yes, yes I am.

Title: HC – Boba Fett and First Kiss Pairing: Gender neutral Reader x Boba Fett Word Count: ~1700 Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Boba Fett is a grumpy bastard, but you hold your own against him. Boba also gets injured, but there aren’t any graphic descriptions of the injuries. Author’s Notes: Okay, my Angle, I’ve been thinking about this one for as long as it’s been sitting in my inbox. I’m not familiar with Boba Fett’s character, so I wanted to make sure this was good for you. So, without further ado, here we go with the Big Green Grumpy Jerk who has somehow inexplicably charmed his way into my heart with a few gruff comments.

Tagging @princessbatears because chaos? :>

📚 My Master List 📚

Boba Fett isn’t a man of many words. It’s not that he’s shy or anything – he just doesn’t like talking to people beyond what is necessary. He has worked alone his entire life, so the sound of others’ voices just sort of grates on him. He especially does not like being crowded by people.

So, one day, while doing his thing, he ends up injured. It’s not even due to combat. His jetpack just…sputters out. His beskar’gam turns what should have been a fatal fall into a very painful one. He knows he has broken a lot of bones, but Boba refuses to die like this. He crawls his way back to his bike, calls for medical aid, and prays to the Maker that someone in town will come help him.

You are the only person who does come to help him. Most other people are too afraid of the Imperial remnants to work with a Mandalorian. Others are too afraid of Mandalorians to work with a Mandalorian. You? You are not afraid of much. He is not sure if you are brave or stupid. After splinting the worst of the damage, you get him onto the bike and get him back into town. It is at this point that Boba finds himself leaning toward thinking you are stupidly caring and trusting.

You inject him with bacta – the good kind that makes him giggly, sleepy, and numb – and get to work. When he wakes up, he’s wrapped in an annoying number of casts and splints, but at least he’s still alive. However, you then give him the bad news: the fall has damaged many of the delicate nerves in his back. If he fails to undergo physical therapy, there is a real chance he may never walk again. He’s no medical expert, but when he looks at the scans you took, he knows you aren’t lying.

So, Boba resigns himself to having to deal with you on a regular basis. The first physical therapy exercises are simple, yet they exhaust him to the point where he just passes out. As the days go by, he starts putting up the walls to keep you out. (Spoiler alert: you manage to find your way through the cracks in the wall, annoying him with barely any effort on your behalf.)

Now, under ideal circumstances, this shitshow would end with Boba Fett getting back on his feet, paying you handsomely for the amount of time you have spent getting him put together, and going back to bounty hunting, never to think of you again. But of course, the universe throws an even bigger wrench into his carefully thought-out plans. Someone finds out that you’re taking care of him and a whole bunch of angry townspeople converge on your little clinic. He grabs you and the two of you run. The last thing you see is your clinic going up in flames. (Boba can’t believe the shortsightedness of these people – they’ve driven off their only competent medical professional. What are they going to do next? Kill their only competent mechanic? Di’kute, every last one of them.)

And so, the two of you go off on a merry adventure, annoying the absolute shit out of each other on a regular basis. Boba especially is concerned at how easily you have managed to find every single weak point in his defenses – physical, mental, and emotional. You are a fair shot with your blaster, so when he got fresh with you that one time, telling you that your ass looked downright edible in the trousers you had borrowed from him, you drew your blaster and fired a shot off at his feet. He laughed so hard his bucket nearly fell off. (You are not sure if you are disturbed that he finds being shot at amusing. He does scold you a bit, but you do notice that he does not talk about your ass anymore.)

With your knife? You’re lethal, and he learns that the hard way when he fails to announce his presence behind you. One moment Boba is reaching to touch your shoulder and the next moment, he’s got your elbow in his face and your penknife embedded in his flak vest. Fortunately, the blade’s too short to cause serious damage, but he does not let you forget that you kriffing stabbed him when he was only trying to ask you what you wanted for dinner.

Even though Boba would rather cover himself in tiingilar sauce and crawl back into the sarlacc pit headfirst than ever admit it, the two of you make a damn good team. He goes off to hunt bounties, you stay in town to provide your medical services for a fair fee. Sometimes, when your services are not needed, you’ll hang back at the ship and do some basic accounting to keep him within his budget.

Boba grumbles when you ask to accompany him on a hunt, but he figures you really do need to learn how to defend yourself if anything should happen to him. When the two of you were surrounded by goons, you naturally fell into place behind him, your back to his, covering his shebs while he provides the heavy firepower. When the numbers are thinned to something more manageable, he sets you loose on them, letting you practice your knife skills. And by the Maker, he is impressed with how much you have improved since the last time you stabbed him.

Between hunts, you get his shebs back into fighting shape. Hell, he thinks he’s even better than he was before. The exercises you insist on forcing on him have made him more flexible than he was before, and his bones no longer creak first thing in the morning. One particularly hot, muggy day, you try to make him drink that vile green vegetable concoction you call a smoothie. Smooth his shebs, there are chunks in that liquefied animal feed. Sometimes he wonders if you’re trying to kill him on purpose.

(You don’t know this, but Boba has already arranged for everything in his possession, ships and banking accounts included, to be transferred to you in the event of his death. Hell, he has even started negotiating with a friendly Tribe to make sure you have a home to go to and your pick of their warriors for marriage, should you be interested. Boba justifies it this way: the last time his jetpack mutinied, he ended up several hundred thousand credits in debt to you by his estimation. By ensuring you have a safe place to go, and a family ready to welcome you, he can offset the immeasurable debt he owes you. It hurts to think of this, but Boba genuinely cannot bear the thought of you being alone in this cruel galaxy, the same way he had been when he was a child. So, if he ever does piss you off to the point where you off him in his sleep, you’ll be fine.)

You keep pushing and pushing, insisting that he needs B-vitamins or some other bantha-shit he’s sure you’ve made up for the sole purpose of annoying him. When you start going on about macronutrients and essential vitamins, Boba loses it. He tosses his cutlery down and goes stomping off toward the cockpit. You follow him, blathering on and on about the last blood panel you had pulled – HDLs, LDLs, and a whole slew of acronyms later, he loses it. Rather than snap at you, he shuts you up the only way his poor sleep-deprived brain can come up with.

Boba pushes you up against the wall, gently to avoid hurting you. You don’t seem at all phased. In fact, you start waving the paper at him as you try to draw his attention to his sodium levels. Boba leans in and presses his lips to yours. You finally stop talking, your entire body going stiff in response. He takes a moment to nibble along your lower lip before parting your lips with his, tongue probing a bit deeper in, and you still aren’t responding. Boba draws back and stares down at you. You’re wide-eyed and clearly in shock.

He leans in again. This time you respond clumsily, your hands clutching at that stupid piece of paper. He gently wrestles it out of your grasp and crumples it up. Then he tosses it over his shoulder, not caring where it lands. He cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss. Still, you’re not responding the way he wants, so he draws back.

“What, never been kissed before?” he asks.

Before he can say anything else, he realizes that that was your first kiss. While Boba has never wanted to be anyone’s First Anything, he realizes that he wants to make an exception for you. There’s no one in this entire galaxy who can annoy the shit out of him in one breath and then worry about his health in the next. You are his little baar’ur. After you have wormed your way under his plating and so selfishly made yourself a fixture in his life without his permission? Oh, no, no, you are not going anywhere.

He cuts off your stammering with another kiss. He takes this one slow, moving your hands to where he wants you to touch him – one at his nape, the other at the small of his back, right over that spot that makes his knees weak.

This time, you respond. Slowly, hesitantly, but as you grow more confident, your hands begin to stray. You worm your fingers up the back of his shirt and dig your nails into the sensitive skin there, making him gasp in pleasure. Then you dig your fingers into his long hair and tug lightly, earning a low growl from him. You freeze and stare up at him with wide eyes until he leans back in.

Fortunately, your big smart science brain learns his likes and dislikes very quickly. When he finally pulls away, he finds that he really likes what he sees – your shirt’s rumpled, your hair is sticking up, and your lips are red and swollen from his kisses. Then and there, he makes a vow to make sure you always look like a mess.

(Spoiler alert: quite a few more of your firsts happen right here in the cockpit.)

[wintaejk]

What Do You Dream About? | jjk

When ___’s brother comes to her asking for help, she has no other choice than to take his place as a member of the biggest gang in the city, B.A.F. However, this is when BTS, another cartel, arrives in town that ___ has for mission to keep company to Jeon Jungkook, the leader of the gang. But BTS is only there for a few days, and ___ realizes soon enough that she only has a night to enjoy Jungkook’s company. Or that she thinks, at least.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Mafia au | Strangers to Lovers | Fluff | Smut

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 9.8k

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, language, English is not my first language so if some sentences are weird it’s probably the reason (sorry about that lol)

A/N: I’ve already posted that OS but with another fanbase. However, I took it off from tumblr because I am not longer reading about the group (I still love you my babies tho), and I wanted to modify it a bit before posting it here. So this is my first ever English work, I hope you will enjoy it! 

“You must be kidding me!”

It was the first and only thing you could say at the very moment. But as you looked at Yohan, your younger brother, you could tell he wasn’t kidding. Not at all, actually. “How did that happen?” You weren’t sure you wanted to know, to be honest, but you still had to ask.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” You’ve never been a violent kind of person, but at that very moment, all you wanted to do was to slap him. Hard. “You were bored? Jesus, Yohan! When people are bored, they read a book or watch television. They do not get enrolled in a gang.”

And now he was in deep shit. Asking for your help. But how could you ever say no to him, your little brother, the apple of your eyes.

“What gang?” You finally asked. Just thinking about the possibility of dealing with all those criminals was making you shiver. But you had no other choice. “B.A.F.” Yohan muttered.

B.A.F. was an acronym for Brave and Free. It wasn’t the biggest gang in the country, but it was the most important one in your city, the one controlling it. You could understand Yohan didn’t know how to deal with the situation, because you had no clue yourself. “I’ll deal with it.” You yet told him. You didn’t know how, but you knew you would find a way out.

It appeared that it wasn’t hard to find the B.A.F’s headquarters. What was hard though, was to manage to talk to someone who could – who would accept to be more precise – to listen to your offer. It took you almost thirty minutes and a lot of flirting to convince the guard to let you in. Not to mention the good amount of money you had to provide. What he didn’t need to know was that it didn’t matter for you: you could have offered him way more since your father always made sure your bank account was full enough.

“The girl ‘ere wan’ed to talk to ya, boss.” The huge amount of muscles said to a middle-aged man who looked at you curiously. “And what’s the girl’s name?” If you didn’t know already that he was the leader of the gang, you would have immediately guessed. He wasn’t only dressed in fancy clothes. All in him yelled power and respect, from his demeanor to his perfectly styled hair.

“____.” Your voice wasn’t as confident as you would have wanted it to be, but you still managed to control it enough not to be shaky. You also took advantage of the silence to add quickly your last name after a few seconds.

That’s when you decided to take a look at what was around you. The room was simple, and you noticed the guard from the entrance had already left. But you immediately realized that you weren’t alone. Other gang members were attending this meeting, and you almost let a gasp of surprise when you recognized Kim Taehyung in the lot.

Taehyung was studying at the same university as you. He was a tall, beautiful, young man. He belonged to the kind of men that were almost impossible to ignore when passing them in the corridors. However, as much as you knew who he was, you were almost 100% sure he didn’t know you in return. And it was maybe better that way.

“Well, ___… Why such a pleasant surprise?” The leader got your attention back, a malicious smirk on the corner of his lips. You sighed lightly, mostly to gather your courage. “I’m Yohan’s sister. I- I would like to make a deal.” He didn’t ask anything. Or at least not verbally. Because the eyebrow he raised clearly showed you he wanted you to keep going.

“I would like you to let him go. To free him.” Bursts of laughter weren’t the reaction you were expecting. And it didn’t make you feel confident. Not a bit. “You must be very brave to come ask us such a thing, doll. Or very stupid.” At that moment, you started to think that you made a mistake by coming here. You started to think you were digging your own grave by trying to deal with these men.

“Fine. I’m all ears. What do you have to offer me?” You gulped. You knew with the look on his face, with the glint in his eyes that you’ll have to offer him more than what you had expected in the first place to manage to have what you wanted. “I can give you a lot of money. My father-” But he cut you before you could even finish your sentence.

“I don’t care about your money, doll. I am nothing like the pathetic guard you just bought with you daddy’s money. I have myself all the money I want. All the money I need. So I repeat my question: what do you have to offer me?” His tone was harsh and clear. If you wanted to stay alive, you would have to propose him more. Something that he would never be able to buy by himself.

I looked at Taehyung, the only person you knew here, as if he was going to help you. To save you. But it was obviously vain. So you said the first thing that came to your mind. The stupidest thing that crossed your mind, to be precise.

“I want to make an exchange.” You saw immediately his facial expression changing. He was interested. “My brother in exchange of me.”

You heard some more laughs in the room, but none of them came from the mouth of the man in front of you. “And what made you think we would want you instead of your brother, doll?” It wasn’t the leader who talked, but a man you had never seen before on your left.

Even though the question didn’t come from the most important man of the room, you still understood that an answer was required. Because yes, why you and not Yohan after all? “You have plenty of men under your orders. More than you probably even need. But women ready to sell their lives forever? Something tells me that you won’t receive that kind of proposition every other day.”

And just like that, with a few words, you sold your soul to the devil himself.

“I think we have a deal, ___.”

Fortunately, your role in the gang wasn’t important. It was always about distracting men while other members stole things from them or delivering some shit you didn’t know about. In other words, nobody ever asked you to complete important missions. Or at least, it had not happened yet.

“BTS are in town.” Taehyung told you one day. It was him who inherited the task of supervising you. And let’s say immediately that he wasn’t very keen about it when he learnt it.

“And I should be excited because…” You were walking next to each other through the dense crowd of the university. However, no matter how full the corridors were, Taehyung was doing a good job at cleaning the way, he always had. “Not excited, ___. But it’s a big deal for the gang. The boss has been wanting to collaborate with them for so long. It’s a huge opportunity.”

A huge opportunity that led you to get asked to accomplish a mission way more important than the one that had been attributed to you in the past. And little did you know that mission was going to change the rest of your life forever.

“So all you have to do is serve him and his closest members all night long.” Taehyung explained you for maybe the tenth time that day. “And what does ‘serve him’ mean, exactly?”

“You know, the usual shit. Taking his orders, bringing him drinks. Bending over so he has a full sight of your ass.”

The member that has slowly started to become your friend these past weeks left you alone after that explanation and walked through the people that were dancing and drinking in the party the leader of your gang organized. Taehyung turned around after realizing you were not following him, and that’s when you saw it in his eyes. Was it pity or sadness? No matter what it was, he was still waiting for you to lead you to your mission: play the waitress – a generic word that had a different meaning for your boss than it had for you – with the leader of BTS. You already knew it was going to be a long night.

“Mr. Jeon, let me introduce you to ___. She will be at your service for the rest of the night. You can ask her anything and everything you want, and she will make it her personal pleasure to satisfy your needs.” Taehyung said to a group of men sitting in a comfortable couch. Once again, it wasn’t difficult to determine who was the leader among all the members. What surprised you though was his age: he couldn’t be much older than you were.

But then you realized what Taehyung just stated. And especially what he was implying. “Not anything and everything, actually. I’m a waitress, not a prostitute.” You clarified loudly, earning a gaze from Taehyung next to you.

“___…” The tall man warned. But you didn’t care. If he thought you were going to have anything close to sex with the leader of BTS, he was wrong. Terribly wrong. You were not a slut.

You were going to protest once more, but the man in front of you interrupted your confrontation before you could even open your mouth. “You can leave now, Taehyung.” And so did he, without even looking twice at you.

You looked at the man with raven hair still sitting in the couch and gulped. Saying you were not intimidated would have been a lie, but you still managed to warn him. “I won’t have sex with you.” Which made him laugh. A warm and honest laugh. “I know, doll.”

What was with gang leaders and calling girls doll?

“If I can be honest, you’re a very pretty girl. Almost like a doll. Maybe that’s why you earned that name.” You almost slapped yourself in the face when you realized you spoke your thoughts out loud and he heard it. God was probably punishing you for something you couldn’t even remember.

He laughed when he noticed how your cheeks became a deep shade of red, even though there wasn’t much light for him to notice. And again this warm laugh that surprisingly made you want to trust him when you probably shouldn’t feel that way.

The night wasn’t as long as you had expected it to be. Jungkook – that’s how he asked you to call him – wasn’t very demanding. Only a drink now and then. And smiles, a lot of beautiful smiles that would have fooled you on the innocence of the owner if you didn’t know what was hidden behind this endearing behavior. Yet, the man knew he was handsome, and he was taking advantage of it.

But more than anything else, Jungkook surprised you when, halfway through the party, he got up and walked towards you. “This party is boring.” He stated, and you bit your lower lip to hide the smile that was menacing to spread on your face. He was right, but you couldn’t agree with him, in case indiscreet ears had been listening all along.

“Would you do me a favor?” He hiccupped right after saying this, and you had to prevent another smile. “Would you take me home? I drank way too much to drive by myself, and the other members are kinda busy.” They were indeed occupied with girls who were offering them lap dances. A usual for those parties. You glanced back at Jungkook who was now presenting his keys to you.

You bit your lips, trying to think about the best decision to take. You weren’t exactly naive. You knew it could be a way to attract you into his house. But on the other hand, he drank too much to be able to drive his car.

“How can I be sure it’s not a trap? Why would I trust you?” His eyes glinted for a second while looking at you. But he shook his head and answered you, the glint disappearing as quickly as it appeared. “Why wouldn’t you? Did I do anything that would make you doubt me?” He was bold and you were speechless. “I promise I won’t force you to do anything with me, ___.”

You knew that a promise from a leader of a gang didn’t mean shit. But you still grabbed his keys to take him home. At that moment, you didn’t think about how you were going to get home. You didn’t think about the fact you didn’t tell Taehyung you were leaving. You didn’t think about the fact he was a gang leader. You were only thinking about how he already got you under his spell. How dangerously appealing a man like him was. And it was terrifying you.

His house was fucking huge. And that was probably the first thing you said when you both entered his living room. “It’s not really my house. I’m just renting it.”

But it didn’t matter. It was still huge, and you were used to enormous spaces.

“Want something to drink?” Jungkook questioned while moving towards a cabinet where alcohol was probably waiting to be drunk. “Just water, please.” You didn’t want to lose any bit of your ability to make reflected decisions. Not with him around you. Not when you already felt inebriated just by being around him.

“Here, your just water.” He gave you a fancy glass that was probably made in some fancy material like crystal. One more thing that proved Jungkook was probably richer than the Queen of England herself.

“I’m very curious about how you ended up in that gang.” The leader told me after looking at you intently for a moment. “What make you think that I haven’t been a part of this world my whole life?”

Jungkook did not become the leader of the biggest gang by simple luck. It was position that required self-discipline, composure, responsibilities and also a big sense of observation. And analyzing the environment in which he was growing was a talent particularly developed by the leader. “Your manners. And the respect you have towards the others. Towards yourself.” It sounded like a compliment. At least, you decided it was one, especially when you considered how it sounded in his mouth. Like something honorable.

“Just had to make a deal to get my younger brother out of this.” He didn’t answer right away and just looked at you a little bit longer.” So you sacrificed yourself?” You just nodded because, honestly, you never thought about it that way until now. You just wanted Yohan to be happy and live the life he always dreamt about, no matter if you had to abandon your owns dreams in the meantime. “Loyalty is highly appreciated by people like me. What kind of leader would refuse such a deal? Especially when the deal look like that.”

“What do you mean?” You searched the man’s eyes in the mid-light, mid-darkness of the living room and you weren’t disappointed by what you found in them. A pure glint of mischief and amusement. “I meant, who would say no to have a literal walking goddess among their gang members?”

You would lie if you said you didn’t blush because of his comment. Jungkook was a handsome man after all. But you decided to play along, hoping he didn’t notice your actual, flustered state. “So this is it. Your best cheesy pick-up line?”

His next move took you by surprise. He walked towards you, like a predator. And you were clearly his prey. Once he stopped two inches away from you, he captured a strand of your hair between his forefinger and his thumb. You were completely at his mercy, caught in between the want of pressing your body to feel more, to have more of him and the need of taking a step back in fear of ending in a dangerous situation you wouldn’t have the strength to stop. But no matter the risks, he could have done anything to you and you wouldn’t have emitted a single protest. “I totally can do way better, but I’m not sure your heart could handle it.”

You were now as red as a tomato. Everything about him and the way he acted was flustering you. His proximity. His breath brushing against your skin. The way he pronounced every single word delicately. His scent – holy shit, if he didn’t smell like heaven... He was slightly driving you crazy.

But he suddenly took a step backwards and you breathed deeply, feeling free of your movements, of your thoughts once again. “I thought you said you wouldn’t try to seduce me, Jungkook.”

Your pitiful attempt to save what was left of your self-control faded away the moment your host answered you. “I never promised I wouldn’t try to seduce you, doll. I said that I wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

And maybe you were naïve, maybe it was stupid to feel that way, but you trusted him. Because at this moment, you really wanted to be there with him. And you were prepared to continue this dance you had with him that was slowly inflaming all your organs, but Jungkook chose this moment to change his strategy.

“Tell me more about you, ___.” This man knew how to keep you on your toes. In all ways possible. “What do you wanna know?”

Jungkook now had made himself something that was probably a strong whisky and was sipping from his glass, not even bothered by the strong taste of it. He was looking like if he was thinking about what he really wanted to know about you. And finally, he seemed to be decided. He pushed his glass away from his mouth and smiled to you. He had a terribly nice smile.

“What do you dream about, pretty girl? I want to know everything about your craziest dreams.”

You weren’t even startled, this time. You were blown away. He was unpredictable. And you were speechless because you never really thought about what you really wanted in life. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to be happy.” You shrugged. It was probably the lamest answer you could have given him. But that was the only one you had in mind at that very moment. Yet you didn’t want to look at his face to discover how bored and disappointed he was by you. So you changed quickly the perspective of the conversation. “What about you, Jungkook?”

Plus, in all honesty, he was unreadable, and you wanted to know more than anything about him as well.

“I don’t know if I can trust you enough for that, love.” Again, one of his pet names. But it was his statement that got your attention the most and made you quirk an eyebrow. “For what I know, you could be gathering information about me for your gang leader. It wouldn’t be the first time a lovely, good-looking girl would try to seduce me in order to ruin me better later.”

Multiple emotions immediately overwhelmed you after his explanation. The first one was astonishment. You weren’t expecting that at all. But it didn’t last for a long time, because right after you felt genuinely upset. How could he even imagine you would play him like that?! But as he told you, he was the leader of BTS – one of the biggest cartels of the country – and he was used to and expected that kind of behavior. From everywhere and everyone. So you couldn’t blame him for being careful. You could even feel your anger slowly fading away to be replaced by something that looked terribly like a mix of empathy and pity. You wouldn’t want to live like that, analyzing every act of every person you hung out with.

You didn’t want Jungkook to know every thought that crossed your mind during this long minute, even though you were almost sure he could read you like an open book. So you just replied with the first thing that went through your head at that moment. “Am I doing a good job though? At seducing you?”

And then you realized. If you wanted him to trust you – and you didn’t even know why you had that want in the first place –, it was the last thing you should have said after his revelation.

You were afraid you already messed up every chance you had of him to open up to you. But you still tried a last thing and got closer to him. Almost as close as he was minutes ago.

“I promise the last thing I want is to ruin you, Jungkook.” It was just a whisper, but you knew the beautiful man had heard it. You were eye to eye, now. You couldn’t be more sincere. And once again, he lifted his hand towards your face, but to stroke your cheek this time. “You’re doing such a good job, love.”

You bit your lower lip, understanding he was referring to your previous question. His hand was still on your cheek, warming your skin. The sensation was beyond pleasant, but you were too close. You definitely were going to get burnt if you stayed there longer. So you pulled away, making sure to keep a safe distance between your bodies.

“Are you trusting me enough to answer my question, now?” You knew it was a bold move, considering your position. You knew he was a gang leader. And you knew you could get in trouble for being insolent like you were. But he made you feel so comfortable you couldn’t help yourself.

“I have everything I’ve ever desired, love. All my dreams became true a long time ago.” He broke the silence after some time of thinking. However, something in the way he said it weren’t right, making you frown. “I don’t believe you. Everybody has a dream.”

“I’m not everybody.” It was his turn to shrug, and you understood you just shouldn’t push it. So you let it go… for now.

You preferred asking him another questions. A lot of questions, in fact. And he asked you many questions in return. The more you talked, the more you felt comfortable around him. And you talked for a very long time. Until an advanced hour of the night – or the morning, you should say. And you secretly hoped he was as charmed by you as you were by him.

“I never thought it would be that pleasant to have a deep conversation with someone.” Jungkook suddenly affirmed. And you were going to comment his insignificant statement by saying something about all the girls he was used to hook up with, but something hit you hard at that moment. Because the thing was, it wasn’t an insignificant statement even if it looked like it in the first place.

“I almost believed you when you told me you didn’t have any dream.” You saw one of his eyebrows raising on his forehead, quietly asking you to go on with that thought.

“That’s actually very funny. Because it seemed like you have everything you’ve ever wanted. You actually do have everything poor people dream about. A huge house. An expensive car. More money than time to spend it. You even have dishes in crystal…” You lifted the glass now full of some random liquor, but the black-haired man interrupted you. “They are in diamonds, in fact.” You scoffed. He was so rich it was almost ridiculous.

Jungkook had to make a movement with his hand to invite you to continue, but not before you rolled your eyes extravagantly.

“You make it seem like you have everything.” You looked once more at the vastness of his living room before turning your head back towards him. “But in your enormous palace, you feel so lonely. And all you really wish is for some genuine soul to keep you company. Am I wrong?” You murmured the last part, but he had no problem to hear it. You weren’t that far away from each other, anyway. And that’s why it took him only half a second to close the distance between you. You were once again too close for your liking. Too close to allow your mind to think clearly.

“You’re a smart girl, ___.” Jungkook stated. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Always feeling terribly lonely. And I never stay long enough in a place to find someone who could become my own home.” You immediately knew he hadn’t been that honest with someone in years. And it warmed your heart that he decided to choose you as a safe place to share his deepest secrets with.

“When do you leave?” You hesitated to ask. But you also needed to know. Your heart was still hammering, harder and stronger every minute passing. “Tomorrow.”

And after all the pounding it has been doing since the leader came closer, it suddenly stopped in your chest.

You couldn’t even hide your disappointment. And Jungkook didn’t miss the way your face fell. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He sighed. It was his way to try to ease the feeling that was overwhelming you at that moment. And in a way, it worked. “I’m still not going to have sex with you, Kook.” You let out a small chuckle, but his laugh never came, in opposition of what you had expected. In reality, he was just stunned by the nickname you just used. It was stupid, but he hadn’t been called that way in years.

“What about a kiss?”

You didn’t even have to answer. Your lips were only inches apart. They were brushing against each other. And when you closed your eyes, he decided it was the only sign he had been waiting for before definitely closing the gap between you.

What was a simple kiss at the beginning became soon enough a stronger and deeper one. With your tongues dancing with each other. With your hands discovering each other’s face. With your bodies pressing and melting into the other one.

While you were moving your lips in synchronization with his, you wondered if he was used to kiss every other girl like he was kissing you. Slowly. Passionately. Deeply. You wondered if he was used to pass his hands in other girls’ hair the same way he was stroking yours. Gently. Tenderly. Lovingly. And you wondered if he was used to lay those girls down like he laid you on his couch. Kindly. Delicately. Cautiously.

And more than anything else, you were wondering how you were ever going to forget about the way Jeon Jungkook was kissing your lips. Like if he owned them. Like if they were made for him.

Getting back to your boring life was hard after that night. You couldn’t stop replaying the kisses you shared with Jungkook. You had to occupy your brain with complex tasks to prevent it from daydreaming about the sensations that overwhelmed you during your make-out session with the black-haired leader. And you would have bet it was a complete dream if there wasn’t the remnant of a small hickey adorning the place where your neck and your shoulder met, reminding you this moment of pure bliss when he sucked and bit on the sensitive skin.

That was exactly why you were at the very moment trying to study in a small café of the town. To avoid thinking about Jungkook. And to physically avoid Taehyung.

Unfortunately for you, the fellow member had noticed you leaving the party with your mission of the night. So it wasn’t a surprise he strongly believed something happened between the two of you. Even though you assured him at least twenty times nothing happened at all. Which was a lie, because you still ended up making out on his couch, but he didn’t need to know about that.

But no matter how hard you tried to push your unwanted thoughts away, every single thing around you reminded you of him. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply before sighing. You missed him so much that you even started smelling his cologne instead of the strong scent of coffee when you perfectly knew he was already far away from this town.

However, when you opened your eyes, you almost jumped from surprise. He was there. Jungkook was right in front of you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You heard yourself saying. You didn’t even process the words that left your mouth. “I don’t remember you being the swearing type. At least, as long as my mouth stay far away from your neck.”

You were speechless. It was all he had to say? You waited a little bit longer for a different answer than the one he just gave you, but he apparently decided to ignore your question. Which pissed you off even more.

So you ignored him back. It was even more impossible to be concentrated on your work now that Jungkook were looking at you from the other side of the table, but you still could fake it. And that’s what you did by typing on your laptop as if he wasn’t even there.

“What are you working on?” The leader asked you. Silence. You saw his fingers starting fidgeting with one of your pens that were lying on the table. You didn’t know if it was to get your attention or a habit of him, but you just ignored it as well, still typing incoherent words on your laptop. “You’re really pretty today.” He added after a few more minutes. You managed to hold back the scoff that was menacing to get out of your mouth, but no matter how hard you tried, your eyebrow still raised high on your forehead. Was he serious? You weren’t even wearing makeup.

Your technique seemed to work because after another long silence, Jungkook sighed loudly and caught one of your hands. “Fine! I just decided we could stay a little bit longer here.”

You looked up to dive your eyes in his and squeezed his hand back. You could pretend you were annoyed with him, but there was gesture even the sanest person couldn’t deny. Holding his hand and intertwining your fingers with his was one of them. “And what made you change your plan?” You questioned, hoping he would admit the reason was you. And because like you, he couldn’t forget about the night you spent together. “Some unexpected meeting, I would say.”

You didn’t have to ask for further explanations, his eyes were saying it all for him, making your heart miss a beat. You would lie if you said he didn’t get you all flustered. But he was used to it now. And so were you.

“I’m gonna let you pretend you’re working now. Yoongi’s waiting for me outside. We have a meeting with your gang.” You looked outside the café and identified the gang member the leader just mentioned. You had a vague memory of Yoongi being at the party your gang had organized the night before.

Jungkook finally got up but didn’t head towards the door of the café as you expected him to. On the contrary, he walked to you, caught your chin between his fingers and bended your head backwards so you were face to face. “You should be careful. That kind of behavior you had earlier could get you into trouble. You’re lucky I’m all wrapped around your finger.”

You didn’t even have the time to process what he just told you before he placed a feather-like kiss on your lips. And with that, he was gone. Leaving you a complete mess on your chair and no way to concentrate on your work.

You decided, at the end of the day (and only at that moment because you didn’t want to seem too eager either), to pass by the general headquarters, which you usually tried to avoid at all cost. But maybe Jungkook was still there, and you really wanted to see him again.

You’re so whipped, ___. You groaned, the reality hitting you. But you couldn’t fight the urge to see him again anymore. There was something about him, you didn’t know what and you didn’t know why but you didn’t want to fight this desire of knowing more and more and more about him anymore. Not after believing you would never see him again.

But the depot where the B.A.F.’s members were always meeting was almost empty. Except for some girls you usually preferred staying away from. You were going to simply ignore them and leave, but you heard your name being called behind you before you could even reach the exit. What the hell did she want?

“I heard about you and Jungkook.” She simply stated. For what you remembered, her name was Yoojin. However, you couldn’t care less at that moment who she was, all you could think about was her statement and the knot it created in your stomach. You didn’t want to get in trouble with her, because you knew that if she decided to start a fight, she would literally ruin you. But even if you were perfectly aware of it, you weren’t going to let her intimidate you. “What about Jungkook and I?”

“Well, it’s a tradition here to tell other girls what exactly happened with a member of another gang. In details.” Her smile was pure evil. It was no doubt she was dying from jealousy. But you honestly couldn’t care less. “Then it’s a shame that nothing happened. At all.”

Yoojin didn’t like you either. You could see it. And you also could see that she didn’t believe you. Once again, you didn’t give two fucks about what she was thinking. You just wanted to know where the rest of the gang were. However, it wasn’t going to be that easy to get answers from her. “What did you do then? Had a cup of tea?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Yoojin. People like you usually can’t.” Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened immediately. Let’s say you already were thinking about the shortest and fastest way to run away from this place. “And what exactly does people like me mean?”

You looked at her for a moment, trying to choose the right words. But it seemed like there wasn’t a right way to get out of this mess. Jungkook was right after all. Your behavior was really going to get you in trouble. “I’m just saying that you can keep acting like a prostitute all you want. But at the end of the day, you will still be remembered at the girl who just opens her legs easily and nothing more.”

You then walked slowly backwards. If there was something you’ve learned during your short life as a gang member, it was to never turn your back to your enemy. You only authorized yourself to do so when you reached the door and grabbed the handle to finally get out. But, once again, she spoke before you could exit the room.

“I hope you enjoyed your time with him, ___. Maybe the current mission is going to be the last one.” It was your turn to be lost. Did she want to scare you just for her own pleasure or was she saying the truth? “What do you mean?”

“They all left hours ago. Had some problems with another gang to solve. And you know how vendettas are… You never know who will return.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” It was a little bit after three in the morning, and you got woken up by loud thumps against the front door of your apartment. But you found yourself wide awake the moment you discovered Jungkook standing behind the door. And when you noticed he was incredibly pale you immediately forgot it was the middle of the night.

“I was worried sick.” You told him while opening your door largely to let him come inside. “You shouldn’t. You know I’m a rock, love.” His voice was weak and when he took a step forward, he stumbled and caught hold of you to prevent him from crashing completely on the ground. That’s when you knew you had all the reasons to be worried.

“What happened?” You helped him walk towards your bedroom that was the closest room from the door. You made him sit on your bed, but even there you could see it was hard for him to keep sitting straight. “Got stabbed by this fucker. Would have died if Taehyung wasn’t a fantastic shooter.”

He showed you the cut on his stomach. It was deep, and you could see that someone did a poor job at stitching it. “It’s infected.” You stated. It became very clear to you that you had to repair it yourself, and quickly.

You got out of the room to go get your stitches set, which was in your living room with your university stuff. You grabbed it and got back to your bedroom where Jungkook hasn’t moved an inch. “I’m going to take them off and do it myself.” You informed the black-haired leader who was watching your every move.

“How come you have that thing?” He was referring to your set. “Perks of being a medicine student.” Your simply answered, focused on your work. Jungkook was now lying on the bed and you could see him wincing from the corner of your eyes, but there wasn’t any other way of fixing the mess of the wound. And unfortunately, anesthetic wasn’t not supplied with the basic kit.

“I didn’t know that. You never told me.” It wasn’t a reproach, just a statement. “You didn’t ask me the other night.” You were now cleaning correctly the wound, hoping that there wasn’t anything inside of it.

You stayed silent for a moment, you working cautiously and him watching you. You would probably have blushed if you weren’t so concentrated on your task. After a few more minutes, the head of the cartel sitting on your bed spoke again, certainly to forget about the pain your needle was causing. “How come you live alone? I mean, your parents’ house wasn’t that far away from the university…”

“Too loud to study. My father has to invite a lot of businessmen because of his job and my brother always plays music loudly and his friends are always over.” What you didn’t tell him, though, was that you hated that house and all the memories that were linked to it.

“And your mother?” Your hand stopped in the air, the needle still between your thumb and your index, your eyes fixed on his stomach. You didn’t want to look at him at the moment. You didn’t want to show him how vulnerable his question made you. “Wasn’t it written in my file? Because I guess that’s where you found my address?”

Talking about your mother always made you bitter. Always reminded you the wound that was still here. Not a physical one, like the one you were stitching, but a mental lesion. An emotional grief that will always be there.

Jungkook didn’t deny he read your file. It was useless, you already knew it. And you weren’t stupid enough to believe one of his lies, anyway. “It wasn’t. And I want to hear from you anyways.” Was all he said. You couldn’t help it anymore, you had to look at his face. To know if it was just to torture you or if he was sincere. And what you saw on his face persuaded you to trust him. Made you fall for him even harder.

“She died. When I was twelve.” At that moment you had completely forgot that you had to finish stitching him. All you could think about was the moment you entered your house to find her lifeless body. “She was depressed. She just… hanged herself in the living room.”

Your father always had been a work freak, but after that you barely saw him at home.

The tension was thick between the two of you. Jungkook didn’t say a thing, which you were grateful for, and just caressed your face with his thumb. You’ve always hated people trying to comfort you with empty words when there was nothing more to say. And as you weren’t talking anymore, you just started to stitch the wound again.

When you finally finished your task, you cut the thread off and got up on your feet. That’s when Jungkook spoke again. “What the hell are you wearing?” You looked down at your outfit and realized you were only wearing a large t-shirt that once belonged to your brother and that arrived mid thighs and hid your panties. “Have I some competition I didn’t know about?” Your unexpected guest added, still on the bed.

He was literally staring at your legs with not a single ounce of shame. And you would have lied if you said you didn’t like it. “You don’t. At all. I just love sleeping with baggy clothes.” He was still lying on the bed, but sit up the moment you said it, the hair previously resting on his forehead coming in front of his eyes. You were craving to pass your hand in it.

“Great. Makes it easier for me.” You saw a cocky smile appearing on his face. The one that you hated as much as you loved. “Even if I know I wouldn’t have to worry too much.” What a presumptuous bastard. He was still smiling at you, as if he already won the battle. “And what make you so sure about it?”

You weren’t prepared for his next move. Even though the moment he grabbed your hand to pull you toward him you knew he was only waiting for you to provoke him. You were now straddling his legs and your face was only inches away from his. At least for now. “This.”

Jeon Jungkook was definitely the best kisser you’ve ever met in your life. Nobody had ever kissed you the way he did. Like if he was hungry. Like if he was thirsty. Like if you were the best meal and drink at the same time of the whole world.

His lips were surprisingly soft and tasted like cinnamon. He bit your lip and you opened immediately your mouth to allow his tongue to meet yours. You had been craving this sensation for almost one week now so you almost moan when you felt it entering your mouth and grazing your own tongue.

You made out for quite a long time. Exchanging your saliva. Stroking each other’s hair, as you wanted so much a few minutes ago. Sucking on the thin skin of your necks and leaving hickeys.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do that. Not with you being hur-” You remembered trying to say at a moment. But you forgot what crossed your mind the moment the man now hovering over you placed his lips on yours once again. And you couldn’t even care less when you felt his hands moving up and down on your thighs. But not once did he get higher than your thighs during your make-out session. Actually, not once did he slide his hands higher during the entire night.

You woke up with Jungkook the next morning. And the morning after that. And again the next morning. In fact, you woke up next to the leader the whole following week. You wanted to blame it on the fact that you had to take care of him, to watch his wound to be sure it was healing correctly. And it was true, in a way. But the very truth was that you couldn’t get enough of him. Especially after the first morning you spent together.

The problem was, Jungkook was very cuddly in the morning. Which would have never been a problem if he didn’t fuel your hormones. With his kisses. And his hands roaming your entire body. His morning boner against your lower back. But that was it. He was only a flirt. Only light touches. Only a tease. And you were sexually frustrated like you’ve never been before.

“Morning.” You heard his voice behind you, spooning being Kook’s favorite way to sleep.

At that point, everything was aggravating the state you were currently in. From his husky morning voice to his fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach. One inch away from your panties.

The kisses he started to place on your shoulder didn’t help soothing your actual mood. Actually it even made him stop all his moves when he felt how tensed your body was. “What’s going on?”

A whole week of frustration, that’s what’s going on. But you weren’t going to tell him. Because as stupid as it was, you didn’t want to admit out loud he was driving you crazy. Or at least, you didn’t want to admit it before he did. And you also didn’t want to lie. So you stayed silent.

You felt his nose running along your skin, from the end of your shoulder to your earlobe, making your body immediately press harder against his. “You smell so damn good.” At that moment you wondered if he knew what he was doing to you. Was this all on purpose? Or was he just oblivious to the sexual tension between you?

“Tell me what’s going on, baby. I can feel how tensed your body is.” Baby. That was a new one. It was always doll or love. Never baby.

Jungkook groaned when he realized you weren’t going to answer his question. And then turned you around so you were facing each other. The only thing you could think about now was how tempting his lips were.

However, when you tried to capture his mouth with yours, he moved backwards, almost making you moan. As if you weren’t already frustrated enough. You finally thought he was going to kiss you when his face went forward, but it was to once more pull back the moment your lips were going to touch.

Jungkook played that game two or three more times until you finally groaned before speaking again. “Are you going to tell me now?” His lips brushed yours again. Your bodies were now so close you could feel every single mechanism of his anatomy. Every breath. Every muscle tensing. Every heartbeat. And if you could feel it, he could probably tell how uneven your heart was thumping in your chest.

His hand on your thigh was a pure torture and made you tighten your legs against each other, afraid that Jungkook would find out what was going on between them in your panties. And at the same time excited and impatient.

Yet Jungkook was still waiting for an answer and you were waiting for his lips to kiss yours. So you just said it. "You just... frustrate me." His eyebrows, that were previously raised in question, furrowed in an instant. "Frustrate?" He was genuinely lost. But after looking at you intently, from head to toe, it seemed that he had finally gather all the signs of your frustration and that realization hit him hard.

A smirk – it was a little one but you still could see it – appeared on his face. He was proud of the effect he had on you, you could sense it with every fiber of your body. “And to think that I was controlling myself because I know you’re still a virgin…”

You were a what? You were taken aback. Utterly speechless. But it lasted only a few seconds, because your first reaction was to genuinely laugh. “I’m not-” You started to say, trying to speak while still laughing. “I’m not a virgin.”

Jungkook was frowning so much his eyebrows were almost touching each other. When your laughter finally died, the black-haired man opened his mouth as if he was going to says something, but he closed it almost immediately. “What made you think I was still a virgin?” You broke the silence. He simply shrugged, or more accurately tried to shrug, because you were still laid on the bed and it wasn’t the easiest position to move shoulders. “I don’t know… You were so against having sex with me I just thought it was because of that.”

“Well… I didn’t know you enough to let you have your way with me, love.” You didn’t even know why, but this whole situation was making you feel confident. You wanted to tease him, to tempt him, to make him beg. But as always, Jungkook found a way to reverse the situation. “And now you would?”

The beautiful man lying in front of you were once again too close. You couldn’t even breathe, so even less think properly. To be accurate, the only thing that was in your mind was him. His lips, his touch, his morning hard-on. And you were almost sure you were finally going to have what you had been craving for days.

“Too bad I have business to deal with.” Jungkook whispered, his breath crashing on your skin. He finally kissed your lips, but it wasn’t enough. It was only a peck, only two seconds of your lips meeting for the first time this morning. And then he was gone, walking proudly towards the bathroom. Because he fucking knew he was driving you insane.

Jungkook got out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Fresh and ready for the day. You were still lying on the bed. Frustrated and upset.

He looked at you from his spot right in front of the door of the bathroom. He didn’t say a thing, and you didn’t want to break the silence. Your ego was already hurt enough. You also didn’t want to show him how bothered you were by his rejection, so you turned your head, avoiding his eyes. And that was what made him react. “Fuck it!”

Jungkook surprised you when he headed toward you instead of the door. He discarded the covers and grabbed your ankles to pull you closer to him. Your lower legs were now falling from the bed, and Jungkook was kneeling between them.

“I can’t fully satisfy your needs, but I can at least make you orgasm once before leaving.” You gulped at his words while he wasted no time to kiss your exposed thighs. You knew what he was up to and you had to prevent a moan to leave your mouth. He hadn’t even properly started, and you were already a mess underneath him.

Jungkook took off your shorts and panties at the same time and tossed them somewhere else in the room. He was going right for it, causing your arousal still there from all the teasing of the leader on you half an hour ago to increase even more every second passing. But that’s when his mouth met your core that you knew you weren’t going to last long.

He was licking you clean, sucking your bundle of nerves, fucking you with his fingers. You were a dessert and he was fucking starving. You were a glass of water and he was thirsty as hell.

You were gripping his hair, scratching his neck. And in response he would groan against your clit, which drove you crazy. It was so good you couldn’t remember your name. Only his. And you were moaning it. Screaming it.

His mouth was perfect. His tongue was heaven; and his fingers were the key of it. The combination of them made you come hard, harder than you’ve ever orgasmed. Your high lasted a long time, and you had to blink a few times to stop seeing stars.

Jungkook was watching you, his frame towering you. He closed the gap between you to kiss your lips, and this time it was a real kiss. A kiss that made your breath even more erratic. A kiss in which you felt your own slit on his tongue.

“See you later, babe.”

Later that day, you received a text from Taehyung saying that you had to go to the headquarters right now. And you knew that you’d better be there very soon if you didn’t want to be in trouble, even though it meant you had to miss some classes at university. The gang was more important. That was the very first rule the fellow member had taught you when you entered the gang.

You were still wondering if you were going to get a new mission when you passed the door of the main room of the building. You weren’t the last person to arrive, but the room was almost full, since Jungkook’s gang was here as well.

You tried to catch the black-haired leader’s eyes, but he seemed to be deep in his thoughts. “Perfect! I think everyone’s here now.” You turned your head towards your own leader, still not sure what was about to happen. “They’re about to make a deal. The big boss always asks the whole gang to be there when it happens.”

You turned around to look at Taehyung who just whispered those words in your ear. He still had a few cuts on his face from the last mission they did. But it wasn’t as bad as the one Jungkook had had.

You were all silent, waiting for someone to start speaking and break the silence. And it finally happened after a few more minutes. “I’m gonna get straight to the point, Daehyun.” Jungkook said, talking directly to the leader of your gang. He was imperious and only someone mad would want to disrespect Jungkook at the very moment. “I know you want to make a deal with our gang. And I’m willing to consent. But I have some conditions.”

The B.A.F.’s leader seemed rather pleased and didn’t even try to hide it. By the face Jungkook’s was doing, you knew immediately he was contemptuous of this kind of reaction. The man you were now seeing for a whole week would have never showed his emotions like that.

You also knew Jungkook didn’t exactly liked your leader, making you wonder why he was accepting such a deal. “Our gangs will be linked. Meaning helping each other in case of problems. Collaborating. Exchanging pieces of information.” Daehyun nodded, his smile still visible on his face. “But I want Taehyung. And ___.”

Not even a fly could have been heard in the room at that moment. The B.A.F.’s leader was apparently thinking about it, trying to take the right decision. “You surely can have ___. Don’t even know why you want her so badly. But Taehyung… You have to understand he’s one of my best members.”

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. What a stupid bastard. “The role of a leader – of a good leader – is to know the qualities and the flaws of each member of their gang. If you would have taken an interest in ___, you would have discovered she’s studying medicine at university. And we all know a good doctor is an advantage you can’t deny in a cartel.”

Your whole body reacted as if it was on fire because of Jungkook’s words. He literally stood up for you, in front of both gangs. In a way, it almost meant more than him declaring his love for you. And the look of humiliation that was painted on Daehyun’s face made you even more ecstatic.

“I want Taehyung, too. And we both know I will have him.” It wasn’t a threat. But everyone could understand and sense the danger in Jungkook’s voice, and maybe Daehyun wasn’t the smartest person you’ve ever met, but he wasn’t stupid either.

So he finally accepted the deal. And that’s how you and Taehyung became a part of BTS.

Naked was the look that suited the most Jeon Jungkook. He was confident and stunning. And he was lying in your bed, his fingers running along your arm after many rounds of rather rough sex.

You were sleepy but you couldn’t resolve yourself to close your eyes and stop staring at your new leader’s face. “You’re so beautiful.” You didn’t even mean to speak, but you couldn’t care less. You thought it with every fiber of your body. “You’re gorgeous. And mine. In any way possible.” Was his reply to your previous outburst.

You quirked an eyebrow, and a playful smile appeared on your lips. “Mmmh, I don’t remember you asking me to be your girlfriend.” He was quick to mimic your smile and get even closer to your body. His head was now in your neck, his lips brushing the many love bites he left earlier. “You know I made you mine the moment I marked you, love. And we both know you love that.”

Light kisses were spread on your light skin, and he sucked one more time. You were tired, but you weren’t going to stop him. “Be my girlfriend, ___.” He wasn’t asking, but he wasn’t demanding either.

“We both know I want it more than anything else.” You answered. He stopped to kiss your neck to smile at you, eyes in the eyes. His smile was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. But a good kind of intoxicating.

“You know you don’t have to stay in the gang if you don’t want to.” Jungkook was serious and sincere. You could see it in his eyes. “I don’t want to leave the gang if it means being a stranger to you.” That was actually your biggest fear at that moment. Jungkook giving up on you.

“You will never be a stranger to me, ___.” He only called you by your name when he was talking with his heart. You learnt it during the short amount of time you spent with him. “Remember the night we met?” You simply nodded, captivated by the way his lips were moving. “You asked me what my dream was. And you proved me for the first time that day how smart you were. How smart you are. I spent my whole trying to find the missing piece. The person who will make me feel like home. And you make me feel like home, ___.”

You couldn’t even describe how your heart was pounding in your chest. Or how you wanted to be one with his whole heart and soul.

“You realized my biggest dream, love. And I want to spend the rest of my life realizing yours.” It was only him and you. Right here and right now. The rest didn’t matter anymore. You were each other’s home. And you were beautiful and strong together.

“So tell me, love. What do you dream about?”

[rorynorth]

Supervillains weren't supposed to pay for coffee.

In fact, Julian Godfrey had come into this very cafe last week—in full costume—to demand a free latte on his way home from holding some CEO hostage. He'd already forgotten the man's name, but the ransom money was going to fund some lavish apartment upgrades.

But today, Julian wasn't here for a drink. He was here to sit in the corner of the cafe and send emails and read and, of course, finalize his plan to take an entire city block hostage. Rather than his villainous costume, he wore the clothes he wore to his day job at the library: black pants, a dark purple button-up, and a black blazer.

He did still want his coffee, though.

Julian ran through tonight's plan as he stood in line. He'd been preparing for this for months, and it had taken a lot of training to be sure he'd be able to pull it off. This would be the biggest demonstration of his power yet.

Most importantly, he'd be doing this alone. He had to. If he succeeded, the city would see him as a real threat. He was already feared, but maybe they'd finally regard him with the same awe as they did Blazar.

Julian planned to relinquish his control of the apartment block in exchange for a considerable sum of cash—not particularly original, but money wasn't his real goal anyway. He was going to lure in the city's biggest hero and completely destroy him. Or at least, kick his ass hard enough to keep him out of commission for a few months.

One of the cashiers waved Julian over. "Next, please!"

"Macchiato. Sixteen ounce," he told her.

"Great, that'll be five ninety-five."

Julian opened his wallet and pulled out a single five dollar bill. Damn, he'd thought he had more cash. "Hold on, let me find my card—"

"You're a dollar short?" came a voice from his right.

Julian glanced up. The girl who'd spoken pulled a dollar from her own wallet and held it out to him. He briefly considered turning it down. He had plenty of money to burn, after all.

But why say no to convenience?

"Thank you," Julian said, quickly looking the girl over as he accepted the dollar. She was nearly a foot shorter than him, probably around five foot three. Her skin was light brown, her eyes were a few shades darker, she wore a white flannel over an oversized teal New Atlas University tee, and—

"Your hair's blue," he noted, lifting an eyebrow. Her curly hair, pulled back into a ponytail, was dark brown for a few inches at the roots. The rest of it was a faded turquoise.

She laughed. "Yeah, I get that a lot. And it's no trouble, really."

While Julian waited for the cashier to finish up his transaction, he watched the girl walk away out of the corner of his eye.

"Here's your change, your drink will be ready in a minute." The cashier dropped a nickel into his hand. "Next!"

Julian stood at the edge of the cafe, debating approaching the girl. It was surprising that someone would offer a stranger a dollar without being threatened, wasn't it? Yes, sure, some people were just nice, but he'd already been reaching for his credit card.

The girl grabbed her drink and left before Julian could make up his mind. An employee called his name a moment later. He grabbed his coffee and found a seat in a corner of the cafe.

You don't take a free drink from a restaurant because you can't afford it, Blazar had told him once. If you're after money, you rob a bank. You take the drink to remind people you could be anywhere, at any time. You take the drink to remind people that they're never really safe.

Julian sipped his coffee. The block of apartments he'd be attacking in a few hours was a short walk from here. He'd pass it on his way to the Complex. The area was familiar. A few times a week, for the past month, he'd spent hours generating stone beneath the streets. Still, it would be nice to take one last look at the layout. He had a lot of asphalt to break through.

He closed his free hand into a fist and formed a single stone. When he opened his hand, the small rock rested on his palm.

That was all he'd been able to do as a child. It took a lot of energy to form matter, after all. But even before he'd fully developed his geogenesis powers, he was at least able to manipulate his creations. Thank god for that. Blazar probably wouldn't have kept him around if all he could do was make pebbles.

Julian pulled out his phone. He responded to a few scheduling emails from other library employees. Checked the time. Skimmed the news. Checked the time again.

It was nearly five-thirty when he finished his coffee. As he rose to his feet, he ran a hand through his dark hair. He was really looking forward to tonight. He hadn't been this excited about a fight in a long time. During the walk to the Complex, he assessed the sidewalk beneath him, searching for the largest cracks, the weak spots he could pull the earth up through.

Storm Warning would have no choice but to show up, really. This was going to be the biggest threat the city had ever seen. Except, perhaps, for a few of Blazar's stunts. It was hard to compete with some of the fires he'd started.

Another five minutes of walking brought Julian to the alley hiding the Complex's entrance. The elevator he took could only be accessed with a key, and the only floor it went to was the top.

A text from Blazar came in halfway up the building. When are you returning to the COVE?

About to walk in, Julian replied. He'd never dare say it to Blazar's face, but he hated calling it the COVE. Not the word itself, but the overly complicated acronym Blazar had come up with. Complex of Villainous Entities. Why make it more complicated than it had to be?

The name didn't matter much, anyway. There were only four of them left now.

The elevator door opened, revealing the open living area. At the opposite end of the space were the doors to the balcony, and a hallway leading to the living quarters. To the left was the kitchen, and to the right were the couches and massive monitor that Damselfly was currently using to watch reality TV.

"Hey, Julian." Damselfly looked up from where she was draped across the couch. Her vibrant blue insect-like wings fluttered as she twisted herself around to watch him enter, glittering in the light from the kitchen. "How are your books?"

She didn't really care. The others took any opportunity they had to make a jab at Julian's job. "Library's doing great," he told her. "Is Blazar in?"

"Nope."

"What about Lord Saturn?"

"Haven't seen her, either." Damselfly's head tipped to the side. Her short, dark waves of jet black hair shifted. "What are you up to?"

"I'm getting into a fight tonight," Julian told her.

"Ooh, Storm Warning?"

"Hopefully." Storm Warning was easily the strongest hero in the city. And the most charismatic. And he was the most fun to fight.

The other heroes who popped up enough to be a household name hardly did anything beyond fighting common criminals in alleys. The minor villains they used to fight had been driven out of the city years ago, or killed. Julian ran into the smaller heroes from time to time, as did Damselfly and Lord Saturn. But Storm Warning was the only one who ever dared to fight Blazar.

"Well, if you're looking for the mask that only covers the top half of your face, it's in the sink," Damselfly said.

"Why is it in the sink?" Julian asked. He frowned. "And how did you know I was looking for that one?"

Damselfly shrugged. "You use the full mask for missions. Half mask is for big public shows. Like fighting Storm Warning." She lifted an eyebrow. "And we were out of dishes and I needed something to put my nachos on."

Julian sighed as he picked his mask out of the sink. "Did the other two say anything about when they'd be back?"

"Nope." Damselfly folded her arms over the top of the couch and rested her chin on them. "Why, you looking for backup tonight?"

"I don't need backup."

"All right, well, I'm here if you change your mind." Damselfly thought for a moment. Her wings twitched. "On second thought, there's a new episode of Haunted Weddings tonight, so I probably won't come out."

Julian rinsed off his mask and wiped it dry with a towel. "Glad I can count on you." He'd been the youngest villain at the Complex, until Damselfly showed up. While Blazar had succeeded at hammering responsibility into Julian, Damselfly hadn't been so keen on establishing herself. She preferred to tag along on whatever plans the others came up with.

"I don't get why this girl is having her wedding at her university," Damselfly said, her attention back on the TV. She tossed a piece of popcorn into her mouth and continued speaking as she chewed. "I mean, I get there was a murder, but those buildings are hideous."

Julian considered asking what exactly the point of the show was, but he didn't have time to listen to another one of Damselfly's spiels.

"You gonna go to college, Julian?" she asked.

He'd considered it, but Blazar had turned him off the idea. You don't need it. You're powerful. You can take whatever you want. He'd tried to dissuade Julian from getting a job, too, but he and Saturn had day jobs. And Julian wanted something to occupy his time, even if he didn't need the money.

"I don't know," Julian finally answered. "I'm already twenty-four."

"That's young!"

Bold words, coming from a sixteen-year-old. "I guess," Julian replied. His mind jumped to the New Atlas University shirt that girl at the cafe had been wearing. He'd spent a fair amount of time looking at their website. Was she a student? Or did she just know someone at the school?

Julian shook off the thought. The sun was setting. It was time to get ready.

The pants and shirt of his super suit were a deep purple. And, like any decent suit, the material was sturdy enough to protect him from minor blows. Then there were the white gloves, white boots, and the collared gold cape that fastened at the neck. Julian liked it, despite Blazar's occasional jab—Still haven't gotten rid of the cape yet?—but he wasn't stupid. The fastener was easy to undo, so he could pull it off before any fight really got going.

The final piece was the metal mask, also gold in color, with slits for his green eyes to peer through. It was the most iconic part, too, the thing people thought of when they heard his name. There were five points at the top, the one in the middle being the tallest, that gave it the appearance of a crown.

Like Damselfly had mentioned, he had two: one that covered his entire face, and the one he'd be wearing tonight that left the bottom of his face exposed. It made conversation easier. And threatening people. A small device embedded in the bottom edge of the mask—designed by Lord Saturn—altered the sound waves of his voice as he spoke, deepening it just enough that only people who knew him well would be able to recognize it.

Julian left his room and returned to the living room.

"I'll watch you on the news!" Damselfly called as he headed for the door. "Well, when my show's on commercial, anyway."

Julian paused. "Don't we have every streaming service?"

"I don't think you know how TV works." Damselfly waved her tablet. "Besides, if I don't watch it live, I can't follow what's happening on social media."

"Blazar might want to use the monitor to watch me."

"I don't think he's coming by tonight."

"We'll see." Julian could worry about Blazar later. It was time to focus.

Right now, he was Citadel.

~

This is the first chapter of Villain Complex, which is available to read in full on my wattpad auroraanorth. It's also linked in my pinned post!

[go-redgirl]

John Kerry’s Service Record Were John Kerry's Vietnam War service medals earned under 'fishy' circumstances? David Mikkelson

Claim:

  John Kerry’s Vietnam War service medals (a Bronze Star, a Silver Star and three Purple Hearts) were earned under “fishy” circumstances. This was written by a retired admiral and Annapolis graduate. The item offers no direct testimony about Kerry, but it does provide informed background useful in assessing what Kerry seems to have claimed for himself. It confirms information I have received from other sources. Our media should be demanding that Senator Kerry open his service records in the same way they demanded that of President Bush regarding his NG service. I was in the Delta shortly after he [Kerry] left. I know that area well. I know the operations he was involved in well. I know the tactics and the doctrine used. I know the equipment. Although I was attached to CTF-116 (PBRs) I spent a fair amount of time with CTF-115 (swift boats), Kerry’s command. Here are my problems and suspicions:

(1) Kerry was in-country less than four months and collected, a Bronze Star, a Silver Star and three purple hearts. I never heard of anybody with any outfit I worked with (including SEAL One, the Sea Wolves, Riverines and the River Patrol Force) collecting that much hardware so fast, and for such pedestrian actions. The Swifts did a commendable job. But that duty wasn’t the worst you could draw. They operated only along the coast and in the major rivers (Bassac and Mekong). The rough stuff in the hot areas was mainly handled by the smaller, faster PBRs.

(2) Three Purple Hearts, but no limp. All injuries so minor that no time lost from duty. Amazing luck. Or he was putting himself in for medals every time he bumped his head on the wheel house hatch? Combat on the boats was almost always at close range. You didn’t have minor wounds. At least not often. Not three times in a row. Then he used the three purple hearts to request a trip home eight months before the end of his tour. Fishy.

(3) The details of the event for which he was given the Silver Star make no sense at all. Supposedly, a B-40 was fired at the boat and missed. Charlie jumps up with the launcher in his hand, the bow gunner knocks him down with the twin .50, Kerry beaches the boat, jumps off, shoots Charlie, and retreives the launcher. If true, he did everything wrong. (a) Standard procedure when you took rocket fire was to put your stern to the action and go balls to the wall. A B-40 has the ballistic integrity of a frisbie after about 25 yards, so you put 50 yards or so between you and the beach and begin raking it with your .50’s. (b) Did you ever see anybody get knocked down with a .50 caliber round and get up? The guy was dead or dying. The rocket launcher was empty. There was no reason to go after him (except if you knew he was no danger to you just flopping around in the dust during his last few seconds on earth, and you wanted some derring do in your after-action report). And we didn’t shoot wounded people. We had rules against that, too. (c) Kerry got off the boat. This was a major breach of standing procedures. Nobody on a boat crew ever got off a boat in a hot area. EVER! The reason was simple. If you had somebody on the beach your boat was defenseless. It coudn’t run and it couldn’t return fire. It was stupid and it put his crew in danger. He should have been relieved and reprimanded. I never heard of any boat crewman ever leaving a boat during or after a firefight. Something is fishy. Here we have a JFK wannabe (the guy Halsey wanted to court martial for carelessly losing his boat and getting a couple people killed by running across the bow of a Jap destroyer) who is hardly in Vietnam long enough to get good tan, collects medals faster than Audie Murphy in a job where lots of medals weren’t common, gets sent home eight months early, requests separation from active duty a few months after that so he can run for Congress, finds out war heros don’t sell well in Massachusetts in 1970 so reinvents himself as Jane Fonda, throws his ribbons in the dirt with the cameras running to jump start his political career, gets Stillborn Pell to invite him to address Congress and Bobby Kennedy’s speechwriter to do the heavy lifting, winds up in the Senate himself a few years later, votes against every major defense bill, says the CIA is irrelevant after the Wall came down, votes against the Gulf War, a big mistake since that turned out well, decides not to make the same mistake twice so votes for invading Iraq, but oops, that didn’t turn out so well so he now says he really didn’t mean for Bush to go to war when he voted to allow him to go to war. I’m real glad you or I never had this guy covering our flanks in Vietnam. I sure don’t want him as Commander in Chief. I hope that somebody from CTF-115 shows up with some facts challenging Kerry’s Vietnam record. I know in my gut it’s wildy inflated. And fishy. rigins:   In Vietnam, Lieutenant John Kerry served aboard 50-foot aluminum boats known as PCFs (from “patrol craft fast”) or “Swift boats” (supposedly an acronym for “Shallow Water Inshore Fast Tactical Craft”). Despite the implications contained in the piece quoted above (“that duty wasn’t the worst you could draw”), Swift boat duty was plenty dangerous: . . . two weeks after [Kerry] arrived in Vietnam, the swift boat mission changed — and Kerry went from having one of the safest assignments in the escalating conflict to one of the most dangerous. Under the newly launched Operation SEALORD, swift boats were charged with patrolling the narrow waterways of the Mekong Delta to draw fire and smoke out the enemy. Cruising inlets and coves and canals, swift boats were especially vulnerable targets. Originally designed to ferry oil workers to ocean rigs, swift boats offered flimsy protection. Because bullets could easily penetrate the hull, sailors hung flak jackets over the sides. The boat’s loud engine invited ambushes. Speed was its saving grace — but that wasn’t always an option in narrow, heavily mined canals. The swift boat crew typically consisted of a college-educated skipper, such as Kerry, and five blue-collar sailors averaging 19 years old. The most vulnerable sailor sat in the “tub” — a squat nest that rose above the pilot house — and operated a pair of .50-caliber machine guns. Another gunner was in the rear. Kerry’s mission was to wait until hidden Viet Cong guerrillas started shooting, then order his men to return fire. If John Kerry was not at all unusual that a Swift boat crew member might be wounded more than once in a relatively short period of time, or that injuries meriting the award of a Purple Heart might not be serious enough to require time off from duty. According to a Boston Globe overview of John Kerry’s Vietnam experience: Under [Navy Admiral Elmo] Zumwalt’s command, swift boats would aggressively engage the enemy. Zumwalt, who died in 2000, calculated in his autobiography that these men under his command had a 75 percent chance of being killed or wounded during a typical year.

“There were an awful lot of Purple Hearts — from shrapnel, some of those might have been M-40 grenades,” said George Elliott, Kerry’s commanding officer. “The Purple Hearts were coming down in boxes. Kerry, he had three Purple Hearts. None of them took him off duty. Not to belittle it, that was more the rule than the exception.” And according to Douglas Brinkley’s history of John Kerry and the Vietnam War: As generally understood, the Purple Heart is given to any U.S. citizen wounded in wartime service to the nation. Giving out Purple Hearts increased as the United States started sending Swifts up rivers. Sailors — no longer safe on aircraft carriers or battleships in the Gulf of Tonkin — were starting to bleed, a lot. John Kerry was wounded in his first significant combat action, when he volunteered for a special mission on 2 December 1968: “It was a half-assed action that hardly qualfied as combat, but it was my first, and that made it very exciting,” [Kerry said]. “Three of us, two enlisted men and myself, had stayed up all night in a Boston Whaler [a foam-filled-fiberglass boat] patrolling the shore off a Viet Cong-infested peninsula north of Cam Ranh . . . 

Most of the night had been spent being scared shitless by fisherman whom we would suddenly creep up on in the darkness. Once, one of the sailors was so startled by two men who surprised us as we came around a corner ten yards from the shore that he actually pulled the trigger on his machine gun. Fortunately for the two men, he had forgotten to switch off the safety . . .” As it turned out, the two men really were just a pair of innocent fisherman who didn’t know where one zone began and the other ended. Their papers were perfectly in order, if their night’s fishing over. 

The fear was that they were VC. Allowing them to continue might have compromised the mission. For the next four hours Kerry’s Boston Whaler, using paddles, brought boatloads of fisherman they found in sampans, all operating in a curfew zone, back to the Swift. It was tiring work. “We deposited them with the Swift boat that remained out in the deep water to give us cover,” Kerry continued. 

“Then, very early in the morning, around 2:00 or 3:00, while it was still dark, we proceeded up the tiny inlet between the island and the peninsula to the point designated as our objective. 

The jungle closed in on us on both sides. It was scary as hell. You could hear yourself breathing. We were almost touching the shore. Suddenly, through the magnified moonlight of the infrared ‘starlight scope,’ I watched, mesmerized, as a group of sampans glided in toward the shore. We had been briefed that this was a favorite crossing area for VC trafficking contraband.” With its motor turned off, Kerry paddled the Boston Whaler out of the inlet into the beginning of the bay. Simultaneously the Vietnamese pulled their sampans up onto the beach and began to unload something; he couldn’t tell what, so he decided to illuminate the proceedings with a flare.

 The entire sky seemed to explode into daylight. The men from the sampans bolted erect, stiff with shock for only an instant before they sprang for cover like a herd of panicked gazelles Kerry had once seen on TV’s Wild Kingdom. “We opened fire,” he went on. 

“The light from the flares started to fade, the air was full of explosions. My M-16 jammed, and as I bent down in the boat to grab another gun, a stinging piece of heat socked into my arm and just seemed to burn like hell. By this time one of the sailors had started the engine and we ran by the beach, strafing it. Then it was quiet. “We stayed quiet and low because we did not want to illuminate ourselves at that point,” Kerry explained. “In the dead of night, without any knowledge of what kind of force was there, we were not all about to go crawling on the beach to get our asses shot off. We were unprotected; we didn’t have ammunition, we didn’t have cover, we just weren’t prepared for that . . . So we first shot the sampans so that they were destroyed and whatever was in them was destroyed.” Then their cover boat warned of a possible VC ambush in the small channel they had to exit through, and Kerry and company departed the area. The “stinging piece of heat” Kerry felt in his arm had been caused by a piece of shrapnel, a wound for which he was awarded a Purple Heart. The injury was not serious — Brinkley notes that Kerry went on a regular Swift boat patrol the next day with a bandage on his arm, and the Boston Globe quoted William Schachte, who oversaw the mission and went on to become a rear admiral, as recalling that “It was not a very serious wound at all.” Kerry earned his second Purple Heart while returning from a PCF mission up the Bo De River on 20 February 1969: One of the mission’s support helicopters had been hit by small-arms fire during the trip up the Bo De and the rest had returned with it to their base to refuel and get the damage inspected. While there the pilots found that they wouldn’t be able to return to the Swifts for several more hours. “We therefore had a choice: 

to wait for what was not a confirmed return by the helos [and] give any snipers more time to set up an ambush for our exit or we could take a chance and exit immediately without any cover,” Kerry recorded in his notebook. “We chose the latter.”

Just as they moved out onto the Cua Lon, at a junction known for unfriendliness in the past, kaboom! PCF-94 had taken a rocket-propelled grenade round off the port side, fired at them from the far left bank. Kerry felt a piece of hot shrapnel bore into his left leg. With blood running down the deck, the Swift managed to make an otherwise uneventful exit into the Gulf of Thailand, where they rendezvoused with a Coast Guard cutter. The injury Kerry suffered in that action earned his his second Purple Heart. Brinkley noted that, as in the previous case, “Kerry’s wound was not serious enough to require time off from duty.” Kerry earned his Silver Star on 28 February 1969, when he beached his craft and jumped off it with an M-16 rifle in hand to chase and shoot a guerrilla who was running into position to launch a B-40 rocket at Kerry’s boat. Contrary to the account quoted above, Kerry did not shoot a “Charlie” who had “fired at the boat and missed,” whose “rocket launcher was empty,” and who was “already dead or dying” after being “knocked down with a .50 caliber round.” Kerry’s boat had been hit by a rocket fired by someone else — the guerrilla in question was still armed with a live B-40 and had only been clipped in the leg; when the guerrilla got up to run, Kerry assumed he was getting into position to launch a rocket and shot him: On Feb. 28, 1969, Kerry’s boat received word that a swift boat was being ambushed. As Kerry raced to the scene, his boat became another target, as a Viet Cong B-40 rocket blast shattered a window. Kerry could have ordered his crew to hit the enemy and run. But the skipper had a more aggressive reaction in mind. Beach the boat, Kerry ordered, and the craft’s bow was quickly rammed upon the shoreline. Out of the bush appeared a teenager in a loin cloth, clutching a grenade launcher. An enemy was just feet away, holding a weapon with enough firepower to blow up the boat. Kerry’s forward gunner, [Tommy] Belodeau, shot and clipped the Viet Cong in the leg. Then Belodeau’s gun jammed, according to other crewmates (Belodeau died in 1997). [Michael] Medeiros tried to fire at the Viet Cong, but he couldn’t get a shot off. In an interview, Kerry added a chilling detail. “This guy could have dispatched us in a second, but for . . . I’ll never be able to explain, we were literally face to face, he with his B-40 rocket and us in our boat, and he didn’t pull the trigger. I would not be here today talking to you if he had,” Kerry recalled. “And Tommy clipped him, and he started going [down.] I thought it was over.” Instead, the guerrilla got up and started running. “We’ve got to get him, make sure he doesn’t get behind the hut, and then we’re in trouble,” Kerry recalled. So Kerry shot and killed the guerrilla. “I don’t have a second’s question about that, nor does anybody who was with me,” he said. “He was running away with a live B-40, and, I thought, poised to turn around and fire it.” Asked whether that meant Kerry shot the guerrilla in the back, Kerry said, “No, absolutely not. He was hurt, other guys were shooting from back, side, back. There is no, there is not a scintilla of question in any person’s mind who was there [that] this guy was dangerous, he was a combatant, he had an armed weapon.” Another member of the crew confirmed Kerry’s account for the Boston Globe and expressed no doubt that Kerry’s action had saved both the boat and its crew: The crewman with the best view of the action was Frederic Short, the man in the tub operating the twin guns. Short had not talked to Kerry for 34 years, until after he was recently contacted by a Globe reporter. Kerry said he had “totally forgotten” Short was on board that day. Short had joined Kerry’s crew just two weeks earlier, as a last-minute replacement, and he was as green as the Arkansas grass of his home. He said he didn’t realize that he should have carried an M-16 rifle, figuring the tub’s machine guns would be enough. But as Kerry stood face to face with the guerrilla carrying the rocket, Short realized his predicament. With the boat beached and the bow tilted up, a guard rail prevented him from taking aim at the enemy. For a terrifying moment, the guerrilla looked straight at Short with the rocket. Short believes the guerrilla didn’t fire because he was too close and needed to be a suitable distance to hit the boat squarely and avoid ricochet debris. Short tried to protect his skipper. “I laid in fire with the twin .50s, and he got behind a hootch,” recalled Short. “I laid 50 rounds in there, and Mr. Kerry went in. Rounds were coming everywhere. We were getting fire from both sides of the river. It was a canal. We were receiving fire from the opposite bank, also, and there was no way I could bring my guns to bear on that.” Short said there is “no doubt” that Kerry saved the boat and crew. “That was a him-or-us thing, that was a loaded weapon with a shape charge on it . . . It could pierce a tank. I wouldn’t have been here talking to you. I probably prayed more up that creek than a Southern Baptist church does in a month.” Charles Gibson, who served on Kerry’s boat that day because he was on a one-week indoctrination course, said Kerry’s action was dangerous but necessary. “Every day you wake up and say, ‘How the hell did we get out of that alive?'” Gibson said. “Kerry was a good leader. He knew what he was doing.” Although Kerry’s superiors were somewhat concerned about the issue of his leaving his boat unattended, they nonetheless found his actions courageous and worthy of commendation: When Kerry returned to his base, his commanding officer, George Elliott, raised an issue with Kerry: the fine line between whether the action merited a medal or a court-martial. “When [Kerry] came back from the well-publicized action where he beached his boat in middle of ambush and chased a VC around a hootch and ended his life, when [Kerry] came back and I heard his debrief, I said, ‘John, I don’t know whether you should be court-martialed or given a medal, court-martialed for leaving your ship, your post,'” Elliott recalled in an interview. “But I ended up writing it up for a Silver Star, which is well deserved, and I have no regrets or second thoughts at all about that,” Elliott said. A Silver Star, which the Navy said is its fifth-highest medal, commends distinctive gallantry in action. Asked why he had raised the issue of a court-martial, Elliott said he did so “half tongue-in-cheek, because there was never any question I wanted him to realize I didn’t want him to leave his boat unattended. That was in context of big-ship Navy — my background. A C.O. [commanding officer] never leaves his ship in battle or anything else. I realize this, first of all, it was pretty courageous to turn into an ambush even though you usually find no more than two or three people there. On the other hand, on an operation some time later, down on the very tip of the peninsula, we had lost one boat and several men in a big operation, and they were hit by a lot more than two or three people.” Elliott stressed that he never questioned Kerry’s decision to kill the Viet Cong, and he appeared in Boston at Kerry’s side during the 1996 Senate race to back up that aspect of Kerry’s action. “I don’t think they were exactly ready to court-martial him,” said Wade Sanders, who commanded a swift boat that sometimes accompanied Kerry’s vessel, and who later became deputy assistant secretary of the Navy. “I can only say from the certainty borne of experience that there must have been some rumbling about, ‘What are we going to do with this guy, he turned his boat,’ and I can hear the words, ‘He endangered his crew.’ But from our position, the tactic to take is whatever action is best designed to eliminate the enemy threat, which is what he did.” Indeed, the Silver Star citation makes clear that Kerry’s performance on that day was both extraordinary and risky. “With utter disregard for his own safety and the enemy rockets,” the citation says, Kerry “again ordered a charge on the enemy, beached his boat only 10 feet from the Viet Cong rocket position and personally led a landing party ashore in pursuit of the enemy . . . The extraordinary daring and personal courage of Lt. Kerry in attacking a numerically superior force in the face of intense fire were responsible for the highly successful mission.” Kerry was injured yet again on 13 March 1969, in an action for which he was awarded both a Bronze Star and his third Purple Heart. According to Kerry’s Bronze Star citation (signed by Admiral Zumwalt himself): Lieutenant (junior grade) Kerry was serving as an Officer-in-Charge of Inshore Patrol Craft 94, one of five boats conducting a Sealords operation in the Bay Hap River. While exiting the river, a mine detonated under another Inshore Patrol Craft and almost simultaneously, another mine detonated wounding Lieutenant (junior grade) Kerry in the right arm. In addition, all units began receiving small arms and automatic weapons fire from the river banks. When Lieutenant (junior grade) Kerry discovered he had a man overboard, he returned upriver to assist. 

The man in the water was receiving sniper fire from both banks. Lieutenant (junior grade) Kerry directed his gunners to provide suppressing fire, while from an exposed position on the bow, his arm bleeding and in pain and with disregard for his personal safety, he pulled the man aboard. Lieutenant (junior grade) Kerry then directed his boat to return to and assist the other damaged boat to safety. Lieutenant (junior grade) Kerry’s calmness, professionalism and great personal courage under fire were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service. According to the Boston Globe, this was the only one of Kerry’s three Purple Heart injuries that caused him to miss any days of service: Kerry had been wounded three times and received three Purple Hearts. Asked about the severity of the wounds, Kerry said that one of them cost him about two days of service, and that the other two did not interrupt his duty. “Walking wounded,” as Kerry put it. 

A shrapnel wound in his left arm gave Kerry pain for years. Kerry declined a request from the Globe to sign a waiver authorizing the release of military documents that are covered under the Privacy Act and that might shed more light on the extent of the treatment Kerry needed as a result of the wounds. Back in 1969, Navy regulations specified that any soldier wounded in combat three times be automatically reassigned away from a combat zone to an assignment of his choosing (unless the thrice-wounded soldier specifically requested to stay). 

Four days after Kerry took his third hit of shrapnel, Commodore Charles F. Horne, an administrative official and commander of the coastal squadron in which Kerry served, forwarded a request on Kerry’s behalf to the Navy Bureau of Personnel asking that Kerry be reassigned to “duty as a personal aide in Boston, New York, or Washington, D.C.” 

Soon afterwards Kerry was transferred to Cam Ranh Bay to await further orders, and within a month he had been reassigned as a personal aide and flag lieutenant to Rear Admiral Walter F. Schlech, Jr. with the Military Sea Transportation Service based in Brooklyn, New York. Kerry served with Admiral Schlech until the end of 1969, when he requested an early discharge from the Navy in order to run for a Massachusetts congressional seat. Admiral Schlech approved the request, and on 3 January 1970 Kerry received an honorable discharge, six months early.

______________________________________

OPINION:  John Kerry is not a honest human-being.  He wanted to be recognized so desperately that he went to the extremed with his alleged lies.

Some people will just do anything to get ahead instead of earning their way through life.

Let the truth be told!

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Mysterio

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

In one of the greatest twists in all of cinematic history, it turns out that Mysterio, the man who in the comics is one of Spider-Man’s most iconic foes and who was heavily hyped by marketing as TOTALLY a good guy, is in actuality… a villain. Bet you didn’t see that one coming!

I think the real twist is that, despite how obvious the twist is and despite how much they change going into this character, they really managed to make him one of the most enjoyable antagonists in all of the MCU. And trust me, the fact that he is yet another villain that Tony Stark inadvertently helped create is a big hurdle to overcome, not to mention Beck is coming right on the heels of one of the MCU’s greatest villain so far, Thanos. But somehow Quentin Beck manages to not only be great, but a villain who takes the cake as one of the most terrifically amoral douchebags in all of cinematic history.

Actor: Jake Gyllenhaal plays Mysterio, and while it is literally impossible to make this man ugly like his comic counterpart, they not only managed to give a good reason why Quentin Beck should be sexy but they gave it to the perfect actor for the role. Gyllenhaal manages to sell Beck as a charming and likable fellow, a “cool uncle” figure to Peter as he has been described, to the point where the inevitable reveal that he’s just a scumbag who is lying out his ass about everything sting all the more even though it is so obviously coming. And when Beck’s true nature is revealed, Gyllenhaal manages to use that natural charm Beck seems to exude to make him at once completely hilarious with how he treats everything his team does as a primadonna actor would as well as utterly terrifying with his extremely blasé attitude towards killing children, treating it less like a contemptible crime and more like an annoying speedbump in his career he’d really rather not do. Gyllenhaal absolutely nails it, and while this Beck may not be in the film business like in the comics, he still manages to be one Hell of an actor.

Motivation/Goals: As it turns out, Beck was the guy who made B.A.R.F. If you don’t remember what that is, don’t worry; the movie gives a flashback to the scene where Tony debuts it in Civil War. Beck was fired by Stark for being too dangerous and unstable, and giving his hard work a stupid acronym was the last straw for Beck, who proceeded to round up disgruntled Stark employees to utilize illusion technology, drones, costumes, and special effects to essentially do what Syndrome wanted to do in The Incredibles: create fake world-threatening problems that he could solve with ease to make himself out to be a hero, all the while causing untold amounts of death and destruction in an attempt to make things realistic. You know, just like how a totally normal, mentally stable person would do it. This might actually be the one time where Tony made a good call in firing someone and it still somehow comes back to bite the people he cares about in the ass.

Personality: Quentin Beck, when acting as a hero, exudes the sort of charm and charisma one would expect of a hero, though occasional hints at his ego and lack of modesty do pop up; however, all of that is subdued by the general air of cool, friendly affability he exudes. He’s a kind mentor to Peter, giving him good advice, and in general seems to be a genuinely good guy…

...But obviously it’s all an act. Beck is very much an egomaniacal sociopath who has no care for anyone, not even his own henchmen; he threatens them after a screwup, though it is a bit justified seeing as how they were brushing off something that would blow their ruse wide open. Just as Beck revels in being a hero, he too revels in his villainy, as one can see during the scene where he gleefully breaks Peter’s mind with a series of traumatizing hallucinations. While he does give some indication he wished he could just have let Peter go, his behavior indicates that unlike someone like Vulture, all of this is just him never turning off that surface-level charm he puts up. He’s absolutely not sorry he has to kill Peter, he’s gonna have fun doing it, but he has to at least put forth that token “I really wish he didn’t have to do this” as if for the sake of some unknown viewer he wants to convince of his nobility even as he tries to brutally murder high school students.

Final Fate: Beck is apparently shot by one of the drones under his command, and dies shortly after Peter manages to break through his illusions… or is he? Considering this is Mysterio we’re talking about, and considering the mid-credits scene, there is a high chance that Beck faked his own death and used one last illusion to escape from under Spidey’s nose. But for now, we can only assume he’s dead. I’m definitely updating this if he comes back, trust me on that.

Best Scene: The scene in Berlin where Beck subjects Peter to a series of illusions that look like something ripped straight out of a comic book, or even a Scarecrow sequence from Arkham Asylum. It’s filled with utterly nightmarish imagery, tons of fakeouts, lots of references to the Spider-Man mythos, and even a few allusions to Mysterio’s video game appearances. In a film where Mysterio has no end of fine moments, this is easily his finest.

Best Quote: Beck has so many great lines that really ring with truth nowadays about people and their desire to believe even the most blatant of lies just so they can have something to believe in. But his greatest quote is perhaps when he weaponises that, with a little bit of edited footage he sends to a seedy, sensationalist news site called The Daily Bugle…

“I managed to send the Elemental back into the dimensional rift but I don't think I'm gonna make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Man attacked me for some reason. He has an army of weaponized drones, Stark technology. He's saying he's the only one who's gonna be the new Iron Man, no one else. Spider-Man's real... Spider-Man's real name is - Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker!”

And with this doctored footage, broadcast live on the news for all to see, Mysterio cements himself as one of the most absolutely scummy pricks in the entirety of the MCU, second only to Ego in sociopathic kick-the-dog cruelty.

Final Thoughts & Score: I just want you all to know that Mysterio is my absolute favorite comic book villain; I love his costume, his concept, that time he fought Daredevil, his gimmick… Mysterio is a villain who is a lot of fun but who rarely is handled well by comic writers, never getting to truly show off the full extent of his greatness. As you can imagine, this meant my expectations going into Far From Home were pretty high… and they were blown out of the water. Mysterio is just that good.

It helps that the MCU really managed to utilize the sort of paranoia and distorting of the truth a guy like Mysterio can bring to the table to its fullest extent. It’s to the point where, yeah, it’s easy to believe that he survived his supposed death; he’s shown us so many other moments where it has seem The day is saved prior that turned out to be BS, why should this be any different? Then there’s the fact that Gyllenhaal is able to fully sell this super-cliched bargain bin hero fantasy involving dimensional travel and world-ending elemental monsters, complete with wooden acting, cliché one liners, and an oh-so-obviously manufactured heroic sacrifice and make it cool in universe and out, that it all goes above and beyond to not only wash the bad taste of him being another villain Tony created out of your mouth, but also the sheer clunkiness of his expository bar scene where he literally explains everyone's role in the Mysterio ruse for the benefit of the audience and seemingly no one else in what might be one of the most awkwardly done scenes I have ever scene. He is so legitimately good that he somehow manages to walk away as a 10/10 villain despite being in a scene that bad.

I think what really makes him work is how psychological he is. Obviously, he has no real powers beyond a dedicated special effects team backing him up, and yet he still manages to be a serious obstacle to overcome by just how good he is at utilizing the illsuions he can create to mentally torment Spider-Man. He taunts him over Iron Man’s death, he plays on his fears of not being able to save MJ, he pretends to be trusted authority figures to trick him into endagering his loved ones... he just goes all out and really delivers a different kind of villain, one who poses a far more intriguing threat than simply a physical one and forces Peter to grow as a person and come to terms with himself in order to beat him.

When I compared him to Syndrome earlier, it really was more than just in terms of his plan; he’s equal to Syndrome in terms of quality as well, and portrayed by an actor who is able to inject just as much charm and personality into the role. And much like Syndrome, by the end of the movie you will think Quentin Beck is one of the must insufferably smug, sociopathic, and scummy villains you will ever love to hate. He outed a child’s secret identity to the world out of spite, for Christ’s sake! That really is up there with “I put a tumor in your mom’s brain” in terms of deliciously hateable dickishness in the MCU, in my opinion.

He may not be the most complex villain out there, and his backstory is a bit played out  (which is funny, considering the cliche hero story with destroyed worlds and dead families his team constructs ends up being more original in comparison), but what he lacks in depth he makes up for in charm, charisma, brilliant acting, and just delicious evilness. I seriously hope he comes back, because if any villain deserves more of a thrashing from a hero they fought, it’s this guy.

[chibigissy]

This was Too Annoying for a Video so here’s a Tumblr Post that’s a Ted Talk. (PLEASE READ THO)

Okay, let's start out by saying, I had originally had a recording for this type of subject, which is a bit of a response to Evan's podcast "Animation Hour", or at least part of it. It's was mainly about works that in a style of a motion comic and works that in a style of a Visual Novel. It was before I talked with a good friend of mine about this and he coined a term that is more broad terms for the type of content we do, which started out as a semi-joke before I'm actually starting to legit like the term. So recording and video I originally had is useless no longer relevant in my eyes. But hey, it's better to start over from the ground up when doing these types of discussions. If you have not seen Animation Hour and have read the comments, I recommend you do so. Cuz, I'm sure this shit is gonna get confusing.

With all that said, let's get started.

So I know that Evan's First Animation Hour, where he talks about fanime, and already, there has been plenty feedback. Alot them are fairly good. Some positive and some fairly critical with reasoning behind it. There is a bit of a discussion. Yeah, 25 comments is not a whole lot compared to other types of YouTube videos that got like a million comments per day but compared to some videos those in our community get, I'd say that is a fairly decent amount, if I do say so myself. One thing that has been brought up in some comments of the video, is the term the Evan coined, which is OAS. OAS stands for Original Animated Series. And it's good term. It's a abbreviated like AMV, PMV, MAP, and MEP. It's short, sweet and to the point. AND It's more board so anyone can join and we can refer to our fanimes as such when promoting them to those outside of the fanime community. However, I do feel there is a bit of a miscalculation Evan might have.... well, unless he'll explain what he means in the next animation hour. I do feel OAS might exclude those that don't animate much for there series, such as doing things in a style of a motion comic or a visual novel (The latter being more of my concern, since initially, what the fuck can you call that besides fanime.) See, I said my original discussion video, you can easily refer to your motion comic style series as motion comic, as it is an established genre. With a visual novel style series, I did tried to coin the term "VNS" which stands for "Visual Novel Series" but it has it's ups and downs. The downside is that it's a little to vague of a term and it could apply to a series of visual novel games, say like Ace Attorney, Danganronpa, and Higurashi. The upside is that acronyms can have more that one meaning. There are two meanings for PMV. My friend, TenshiHanka, told me it could mean either "Picture Music Video" or "Pony Music Video". Speaking of which, I had a conversation with Tenshi and UniversalFiction about OAS. Universal was asking if we're going to change the name of the Fanime World Server to something like OAS, which I was not sure if the mods would agree to that idea. And least not yet. Might be too soon at this point in time. As for Tenshi, he is basically, like "Yo. I got it! OWS. Which stands for "Original Web Series". And OWE , which stands for "Original Web Episode!" Now, like I said at the beginning of the video, this was a bit of a semi-joke. It was a semi-joke in a sense that we both pronounced them as "ow's" and "ow" and saying shit like "Cuz making art is an ow", which in all fairness, it is. Art can be a pain sometimes. And so, he posted his comment about on his TenshiHankaTR account, which compared to his Otaku Krap account, it's is smol! Like, with the other comments (especially mine), you would need 15 semi-trucks to carry them! With the smol comment, it's straight into the point! Then Universal's comment came a long and she brought up legit good point about how OWS is more inclusive than OAS and I'm like "Oh..... what's feeling in my heart. I think I'm starting to legit like term OWS and OWE" And that's what I feel actually, OWS is good for a series that episodes on YouTube or just the internet in general and OWE is good for one-shot story that is in a video format. It's open for animators and those who don't animate but still like to portray their stories through art and a video format! I'd say it's down right genius Now, I have a bit of hot take, You can have your series under the OWS and OAS labels. After all, as Evan said, you can use as many tags as possible to promote yourself out there. And another hot take, you can also have the fanime label for your OWS in the tags. I feel you can have a community within a community. Now I know what ya'll thinking "Gissy, what the angling fuck are you going on about? And what are you smoking and can I have some of it?". Well, I've seen communities outside of the art community that have their own little sub communities. An example I can bring up is with Twitch. Twitch, while it's a big ass community, has like a shit tone of communities that surrounds a Twitch streamer. There are two I'm in are related to Doodletones and KisakaToriama. And sure, there are times when it's just a chill streams, sometimes it can have a shit ton of overs of... 20 something views. (In the case with Kisa, might be around 30 or more, if she is like playing a popular game) Now I can got into other community types but if I do, we'd be here all day. So yeah, with that example in mind, I'd say, you can have the fanime community with an OAS and OWS/OWE community community! Checkmate, Atheists!! Now, there is one more thing I wanna bring up and that is that what would be a good main hub to post our work, besides YouTube and other Social Medias. Because face it, YouTube is dun mcfucked right now and if you don't have a big following and/or not using your tags properly, your work is gonna get buried by other tweets about some fuckward doing something stupid or illegal for like the millionth time. I know some of you are gonna be like, “Why not a Discord Server as the Main Hub.” And I'd say that is a fairly decent idea. Just don't let me be the moderator for it. Cuz I have the Fanime World Discord to deal with and trying to moderate that server alone is freakin difficult at points. I don't even WANT to imagine how moderating a OWS server would be like, if it has more people than with Fanime World. But there are other options as well. There's creating an amimo for OWS's. There is a problem however, Amino is kinda hard to keep up with. Trying to look at your mobile is tedious at points and the desktop version of Amino kinda sucks, if I'm honest. But here, something like an OWS Amino can work for mobile users that like said app. There's also a creating a forum for OWS's. It's just.... Forums are kinda going extincted, sadly. Like, unless it’s for something popular, it's hard to make forum of something not to popular. "But wait, what about Creative Studio Forum?" you may ask. I know that was popular back in the day but it's currently in the dead zone and none of the moderators of that forum probably don't care about anymore to a point that unless you already have an account on CSF, you get the freakin' #Hashbrown theme since that's currently the default theme. Tho who knows, maybe there will be a "Creative Studio Forum 2: Electric Boogaloo" one of these day. After all, there are other types of projects the tell a story and don't involve video editing exists. I mean hell, Penalty All About was originally a web novel, my duudes! There would just be an OWS sub-section in the of the Visual Project Section of that forum There were other options, such as mastodon or even creating a website from the ground up. The latter might get too confusing, if you don't know any coding. Not to mentioned, both of them cost money. (Even tho, the former claimed to be open source. Don't think I'm not salty that false advertisement, Mastodon....) Anyways, this has gotten a little all over the place but to summarize: 1. OAS is a good public name but it might exclude those that 2. OWS/OWE is a more inclusive those that animate and those that don't but still wanna make episodes. 3. The Fanime Comminity can be within the OAS community and OWS/OWE Communities, change my mind. 4. WE NEED A MAIN HUB CUZ YOUTUBE SUCKS, DAMNIT 5. ????? 6. Profit Okay the last two points are a joke but I hope you get my drift. That is all I gotta say, hope you have a good day, and thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[samtheflamingomain]

hello wisconsin!

Okay, I'm garbage and have been putting this off for ages. I finished binging That 70's Show like a month ago and have been building this post for just as long.

I started this post at the beginning of season 6. Read it as such. I'll let you know when the part I wrote at season 6 ends and where I pick it back up in the present. If that makes sense.

I'm starting at season 6 mostly because I'm pretty sure the shark is going to be jumped at some point soon. Just like MASH, which lasted longer than the Korean war, 70's stretches 2 years of high school into 5 seasons. Plus another 3 for some reason.

And that's my first point. New rule: if your TV show appreciates in time and the events in the show don't line up with that, you've fucked up. I just watched 5 seasons of the kids in high school. You're telling me this shit goes on for another 75 fucking episodes?

Look, MASH I can give a pass to because they don't mark specific points in the war to give the watcher any time reference. MASH gives no dates - it's feasible that a 5-year war could span 10+ seasons, if we guess that each season is 6 months long. (That's not how it really works, but you get the point).

70's STARTS THE SHOW at the end of grade 11, and we know this. To a rational person, that means "One season of grade 11, 2 for grade 12, maybe another for summers." Then. They. Graduate. And. Leave.

But that's... not happening. For ANY of the main characters. They just decided to extend a show about high schoolers into their *supposed* college years. Which I wouldn't even have minded much - if ANY of them ACTUALLY WENT TO COLLEGE.

If they hadn't made things so cut-and-dry regarding timeframes, They could've kept being 12th graders for 10 seasons for all I care. But they CHOSE to follow defined timespans. And I think that's what's got me feeling that season 5 might've been the last "good season".

So everything you've read, I wrote before I finished the show. And, well, turns out I was right. This is also from before I finished the show (with a few things I’ve thrown in now):

There's a lot to disect from 70s, but there's one I want to focus on: Red Forman.

Why? Well, these characters are static and uninteresting: Donna, Fes* and Bob. They're pretty useless in terms of character development. These ones have simple character arcs: Hyde, Eric and Kitty. They change and grow, but in pretty predictible ways. In terms of change, Jackie obviously takes the cake, with Kelso at a close second.

*It is actually spelled Fes, because that's not his name. It's an acronym for Foreign Exchange Student.

But there's only one character that never seems to change or grow at all: Red. I said "seems" because he does change and grow, but it's instantaneous and doesn’t come for a looooong time.

It takes place immediately after returning from fishing, after Eric tells him he and Donna are engaged. He reaches a very sound, strong position: he made Eric run the gauntlet on everything he shit his way, but Eric never gave up. So he gives Eric the blessing to marry Donna. (There's another very pivotal change in his character, but that's later.)

I would've called that a nice wrap-up to the series.

But then they had to give him a damn heart attack to keep all the kids here. Why? Fuck if I know. (Jackie's still in high school and Hyde has a job he likes at home, but there is literally no reason for any of these other kids to still be here.)

The stupid heart-attack got Eric to push back college. I was fine with that. Then the whole Casablanca shit with Donna not getting on the bus, well, it kinda pissed me off (like, girl, don't let a fuckin weak ass ferret man determine your future) but it was a pretty sweet, moving moment. Another one that would've been great to end the show on.

But they didn't. So now we have Kelso, future cop; Fes, unemployed illegal immigrant with ZERO CHARACTER TRAITS THAT PEOPLE CARE ABOUT; and Eric “Dog Food” Forman.

Anyway, back to Red. It was that one heartwarming moment when he came back from fishing that made me realize that, while this is obviously fiction, Red is the epitome of a psychologically abusive parent. And THAT'S when I realized that literally not one of the characters HASN'T gone through significant trauma. Red's a vet; Kitty's an alcoholic who lost her father; Eric has an abusive father and alcoholic mother; Donna has a mentally retarded ball of pubic hair as a father and her mother ran out; Hyde's parents split; Jackie's dad's in jail and mom fucked off. I refuse to talk about Fes anymore cuz he's just the stupidest, most irritating "character" on the show, Randy notwithstanding. "He's brown! And has a funny accent! Hahaha" - nobody, ever.

It's when I realized that we NEVER see ANY of Kelso's home life did I realize that he was likely the sanest of the group. And, like him outscoring both Hyde and Eric on the SATs, that's very, very sad.

Back to Red. We know he became traumatized and hardened by serving in two wars. We know he's treated Eric like garbage his entire life... yet Eric is pretty well-adjusted. And that is where, 5000 words in, we get to my point: abuse is played for laughs and it's fine because Eric has a snappy comeback to Red most of the time.

Eric Foreman's a sarcastic wit with great comedic timing. So that, according to the show, cancels out of all the times Red's told Eric he was stupid and degraded him in front of his friends.

Of course, conflict has to come from somewhere, and one's parents is that major source for most teens. But to an extent.

"Red's a hardass," as the kids say regularly. But no, being a hardass is refusing a kid candy till he finishes his broccoli. Not telling him he's worthless over and over and over for 17 years

And I don't care what anyone says: that amount of abuse over a child's life does not a snappy, well-adjusted Eric Forman make.

It makes me. A crumbling, shattered, fragmented person with no sense of self-worth or accomplishment.

And now, we’re caught up. Back in the present, having finished the show.

My point ended up being made.

If the show had ended at season 5 with Donna missing her bus, we would've missed a lot.

Look, I still firmly believe the show itself would've been better if it had ended earlier, but my complaints about the effect of Red's abuse of Eric would've gone unanswered.

I spent the next 3 seasons mildly annoyed that they existed - first, Eric doesn't go to college. Then neither does Donna. Why are they still around? Why do we still care? The whole point of the show was to show us high schoolers graduating and going off to college. To me, it felt like how it would feel if MASH continued after the war ended.

I was absolutely irrate when Eric announced the theme of season 7 would be "I'm taking a year off to eat and watch TV and sleep!" There was a great scene that's often seen on tumblr in gif form: at breakfast, Red asks Eric what he's going to do about: moving out, Donna, his job, and his future. He replies "I 'unno" to each question. Red tells him to have a plan by the end of the day if he wants to eat. And I said "Finally, some good fucking Red Forman." Then, at the end of the day, Eric announces: "Donna? Hanging out. Job? Quit. Future? None. When am I moving out? Make. Me."

To which I said, "THAT'S WHAT YOU DID LAST SEASON BITCH!" Only apparently I was wrong; Eric Forman could and did become even more useless than before.

But at least it gets us to my absolute favorite point in the entire series. Season 7, episode 9, 18 minutes in. (Thanks to Reddit for helping me locate this scene). Red is bitching at Eric for not knowing what to do with his life. Let's go straight to the transcript (with side jokes edited out):

E: Did it ever occur to you guys that I don't know what I'm doing? I'm scared, okay? Look. My whole life, I've been trying to please other people. So I feel like I don't know who I am. Or know what I want to do with my life. I just don't want to wake up in five years and hate my life.

R: That's unavoidable.

E: Okay, I just need more time to think.

R: You know what I got for my 18th birthday? A draft notice and a Malaria vaccine. I never had time to *think.*

E: Yeah, but Dad, don't you think it would've been helpful if you did?

Then the camera zooms in on Red, and no laugh track, no jokes, he thinks for a good 20 seconds. Then he says, "Okay. I'll give you six months."

It's my favourite scene. Even more than the one we get after fishing or the one before leaving for Africa. Because unlike those few heartfelt scenes, this one relies on Red. Being. Wrong. And admitting it.

There's a reason Eric's spent his whole life trying to please others: Red. There's a reason Eric doesn't know who he is: Red.

Throughout the entire series, Red's been a Conservative Republican veteran who, as Kitty puts it, "Thinks the only way to become a man is to DIE." Just 500 words ago, I called him abusive. And, let's be real, he is.

But I also had an abusive father. That's why I picked this direction for this post to go. I saw Scott in Red Forman. But they are NOT the same.

Red Forman will admit to being wrong. And that makes up for a whole goddamn lot. Going through abuse is not something I'd wish on my worst enemy. But if they did and their abuser ADMITTED HE WAS WRONG, that is NOT nothing to the abused. If my dad had admitted he was a dick, my life would be a LOT different.

And Eric is the epitome of that feeling. His eyes light up when Red says he'll give him six months. Because Red knows he's done Eric wrong. He knows he owes him at least this much. At various points throughout the series it's been pointed out that Eric is who he is because of Red. It was inevitable that Red, too, would eventually reach this conclusion.

Anyway. That's that.

I do want to talk about other things than Eric and Red Forman, so let's play all the hits: fuck Jackie and Fes, fuck Randy with a chainsaw, the moment the show jumped the shark was when Eric bailed on the wedding, fuck Randy with a hot curling iron, Fes is the most annoying and useless character on the show, LOVED the episode where they finally Green Out™ and Kelso calls the White House, and FUCK RANDY WITH A CEREMONIAL JAPANESE KATANA.

Look. I can't in good conscience indulge in a 70's review without talking Randy.

But I hate him so much I don't want to waste energy on him so let's get this over with: useless, Gary Stu, want to put his hair through a blender, fuck him for being in the cirle in the theme song.

Okay, but let's play one last one: Tommy Chong.

I was curious as to why he was absent for 3 seasons so I Googled it. Dude was in prison for selling bongs. He said, upon getting out and returning to the show, "I thought they would've made that a part of the show!" I think that says it all about Leo and why he's my favorite character, with Hyde as a close second. But FUCK Danny Masterson and FUCK Scientology. Look it up.

Well, to finish off, an interesting tidbit: at the end of the theme song, it is Hyde who shouts "Hello Wisconsin!". The entire time, for 200 episodes, I would've sworn on my life that it was Kelso.

Stay Greater.

[tinymixtapes]

Music Review: Alan Vega - IT

Alan Vega IT [FADER; 2017] Rating: 4.5/5 The infamous early performances of Suicide are understood to be foundational events that set the bar for shock-punk extremity. As Henry Rollins stated a year ago in the official public announcement of Alan Vega’s death, “[Suicide’s] confrontational live performances, light-years before Punk Rock, are the stuff of legend.” These performances (along with the preceding efforts of The Stooges) ushered in a lineage of shock-rock egos purporting hypotheses for experimentation with violent confrontation, social sculpture, hierarchical relations, and rock & roll as their interests. These now tired and problematized theses have had their moments: Suicide’s eventual colleague James Chance physically confronted apathetic audiences just before harsh noise pioneers Hanatarash and Hijokaidan brought threat levels to a peak with explosives, projectiles, bulldozers, and urination. These theses may have met maximum attention in the mid-80s when artists like GG Allin and The Mentors regularly appeared on daytime talkshows to gleefully debate their violence with angry and bewildered parents. At their worst, these experiments in shock rock were backed by a familiar argument: an artist inflicting violence for the sake of truth. “Twentieth century art movements were veritably obsessed with diagnosing injustice and alienation, and prescribing various ‘shock and awe’ treatments to cure us of them — a method Austrian filmmaker Michael Haneke usefully, if revoltingly described in a 2007 interview as ‘raping the viewer into independence,’” notes writer Maggie Nelson in The Art of Cruelty. Nelson argues that performative cruelty is generally only more irritating when its actors propose it is for their viewer’s good. When such a harbinger appears, he implies that he not only knows what is wrong with his audience, but also what will cure them. It is with this attitude that GG Allin appropriated the punk ethos of anti-consumerism and anti-puritanism and proposed that his concoction of irreverence and violence was the pill to solve it all. A similar attitude carries Sun Kil Moon’s Mark Kozelek through his own verbal abuse. He once advised to Guardian journalist Laura Snapes, “Listen to your elders. I’m 48 and I have wisdom. I’ve seen girls laid out on the street with an ambulance picking them up because they are crossing the street with those stupid headphones on.” This already demeaning piece of advice came before he publicly called out its recipient by name in front of an audience of 1,900 (of which she was not a part). Kozelek finds himself consistently bemoaning journalists, reporters, and commentators for the simple reportage and speculation upon his own speech. The irony of his (as well as many others’) grumblings about the truth is that he won’t have it fed back to him. Of course, such an attitude is nothing new; Nelson quotes painter Francis Bacon stating in 1966, “people tend to be offended by facts, or what used to be called truth.” Here tells the 79-year-old Vega — in anticipation of his own death, writing, recording, and performing in spite of it — “the truth is dead… the saint is dead… the motorcycle explodes.” Vega doesn’t beat around the bush. Within the dark cityscape of IT, there are eight different proclamations of death spoken with the same structure: “the [creature/man/brotherhood/skull/ghost/truth/saint/blaze] is dead.” This is not to mention the provocation that introduces the album, delivered with the nonchalance of Drake letting loose an acronym (e.g. “YOLO,” “HYFR”), Vega snickers, “DTM. Dead To Me.” It is this very nonchalance that carries Vega through the drama of IT without the faintest pretension. Listening to the album, I never had the feeling that a promise of horror went undelivered. Instead, the album’s mild horror lurched from a presence, as if to say, “it is what it is.” Vega’s stake on truth is an effect of his adherence to simple sentences and present tense. The album’s title track, for example, screams, “It has a gun/ It is ready/ To kill somebody/ The killer is close/ You can smell it/ The weapon is loaded.” These disaffected proclamations meet some of the harshest yet most vibrant instrumentals to support Vega’s voice to date (production is credited to Vega and his wife/frequent collaborator Elizabeth Lamere). Exempting a few moments of punctuation — the sudden drop and spattering that occurs five minutes into album-opener “DTM;” the butchering edits that close “IT” before Vega’s voice is lost to a vacuum — the music enables Vega’s voice as his best accompanists have: providing the expository setting and minimalistic bedding necessary for Vega to project his scene upon and float above. His delivery will sound strange to those unfamiliar, but it will be oddly cozy to those who have known it all along. Vega is at his most animated and affected on “Motorcycle Explodes,” a song that represents, if not Vega’s own death, the death of his image. It begins with a dry howl that effectively carries the horror of his trademark “Frankie Teardrop” shrieks. The song’s subject can be none other than Ghost Rider, the figure that opened Suicide’s discography four decades ago and provided the band its name. “[T]he ghost is dead, the truth is dead/ At rocket speed, subhuman,” Vega shouts, imagining the rider killed by his ride, his only point of relation to his surroundings. This represents Vega’s point of simultaneous reflection and collapse, a marker at which the relationship between his art and his life can maintain conversation no longer (Rollins: “Alan’s life is a lesson of what it is to truly live for art. The work, the incredible amount of time required, the courage to keep seeing it and the strength to bring it forth — this was Alan Vega.”) The album’s coda — “Prayer,” “Prophecy,” and “Stars” — is both cruel and forgiving. More or less a kick in the ass. “Prophecy” begins as a direct reflection, “Been kicked hard/ Friggin punched out/ Pushed into cement walls/ Got a bloody head/ Blood is dripping down my face.” Then he hands off his experience, “I’m bruised everywhere/ It’s happened before/ In the street/ On the stage/ And it will/ Happen again/ Yeah tremendous over/ And over and over and over/ Again/ It’s my prophecy.” Vega universalizes his defiance. “Over and over and over and over again” cannot be contained within one life. The care with which he delivers these lines, the lack of audacity, allows their recipient inclusion. “I will get up/ I will survive,” he continues, “I will go on and on and on/ So fuck you killers/ Fuck you/ I stand/ It’s my prophecy.” With that, Vega hands off his spirit and his legacy. The next words we are gracefully given, “It’s yours, It’s your life/ It’s your given hand.” --- G.G. Allin once threatened to the audience of The Jane Whitney daytime talk show, “your kids are my kids.” When he said this, he was suggesting a battle over ideology. He felt the very real power an artist may have to stake a claim over another’s subject formation. IT, in all of its auditory abuse and bleak imagery, shows no such ambition. The burden Vega bestows is the act of engaging with the world as he has: experimental in art as in life, such that the two converge. Vega’s interest in cruelty arose from an interest in how a social space could be transformed by a single action that none before had thought possible. In Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk, he recalls seeing The Stooges: “[Iggy] went to sing and he just pukes all over, man. He’s running through the audience and shit … staring at the crowd and going ‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’… It was one of the greatest shows I ever saw in my life. It changed my life, because it made me realize everything I was doing was bullshit.” Of course, venue violence is no longer interesting. Beyond that, it is increasingly a very real threat. Perhaps it is no coincidence that IT’s cover appears to be an EXIT sign severed by the camera, marking Vega’s exit with a material affirmation. This simple transformation echoes the legend that Vega, at Suicide’s early performances, used to cause himself to bleed amidst Martin Rev’s cacophony, only to block the rear exits so audiences could not flee. Amidst the fires, shootings, and bombings that have unfortunately become a familiar part of our musical landscape, such a stunt is no longer respectable. On the other side of four decade’s growth sits IT with its intentions intensified and redirected. The sign half-visible on the cover does not obfuscate the way out. Transformed, it encourages consciousness, directness, and presence — nothing more. http://j.mp/2h1JvFw

[mystlnewsonline]

New Post has been published on https://www.stl.news/trump-continues-to-cast-some-immigrants-as-criminals/82062/

Trump continues to cast some immigrants as criminals

WASHINGTON /February 7, 2018 (AP)(STL.News) —Making his case for tighter border security, President Donald Trump has repeatedly linked immigration to criminality, highlighting immigrant gang violence, calling family reunification a national security threat and bemoaning the death of a pro football player involved in a car accident with a man living in the country illegally.

Speaking to law enforcement officials at the White House on Tuesday, Trump singled out the MS-13 gang, which is believed to be behind 25 killings on New York’s Long Island in the past two years, and has become a prime target of the Trump administration.

“We’ve really never seen anything quite like this, the level of ferocity, the level of violence, and the reforms we need from Congress to defeat it,” Trump told law enforcement officials and lawmakers, eventually threatening another federal government shutdown if Democrats don’t agree to pass an immigration package he said would help keep gang members out.

“If we don’t get rid of these loopholes where killers are allowed to come into our country and continue to kill … if we don’t change it, let’s have a shutdown,” Trump suggested. “I’d love to see a shutdown if we don’t get this stuff taken care of.”

Trump’s latest threat is part of a pressure campaign he has been waging to try to get Democrats to sign onto a sweeping immigration plan that they’ve rejected. The president wants billions for a southern border wall, major cuts to legal immigration, and more money for interior enforcement and other changes in exchange for granting a pathway to citizenship for up to 1.8 million young immigrants living in the country illegally.

Earlier Tuesday, Trump called on Democrats to “get tough” on immigration, citing the death of Indianapolis Colts linebacker Edwin Jackson, who was killed in a suspected drunken-driving crash involving a Guatemalan citizen living illegally in the U.S.

“So disgraceful that a person illegally in our country killed @Colts linebacker Edwin Jackson,” Trump tweeted. “This is just one of many such preventable tragedies. We must get the Dems to get tough on the Border, and with illegal immigration, FAST!”

Trump has also continued to criticize the nation’s legal immigration system, insisting that limiting immigrants’ ability to sponsor their family members to join them in the country, and ending a visa lottery aimed at promoting diversity, will make the country safer.

“In the age of terrorism, these programs present risks we can no longer afford,” he said in his State of the Union speech.

It’s an issue that has been near and dear to the president’s heart — and his base— since the day he launched his campaign and accused Mexico of sending its rapists across the border. Since his inauguration, Trump has marshalled government resources to try to portray immigration as a threat, despite several studies that have shown immigrants are actually less likely to commit crimes than people born in the United States.

Indeed, critics have repeatedly accused the administration of using faulty data and cherry-picked examples to make its case.

On Tuesday, Trump zeroed in on MS-13, or the Mara Salvatrucha, a gang established in the 1980s in Los Angeles by Central American refugees fleeing violence in their counties.

Federal prosecutors believe MS-13 now has thousands of members across the country, though statistics show they account for just a tiny fraction — less than 1 percent — of total U.S. gang membership. And while Trump administration officials have tried to portray the gang as comprised of a never-ending flow of illegal immigrants, some figures suggest most members are U.S. citizens.

Trump complained that thousands of gang members are arrested and deported from the U.S. only to return to the country. “Not another country in the world has the stupidity of laws that we do,” he complained. Trump has given Democrats until March 5 to agree to an immigration deal, though it’s unclear exactly what will happen on that date

White House chief of staff John Kelly spent much of the day on Capitol Hill, meeting with congressional leaders about immigration. But he also drew criticism when he suggested some young immigrants were “too lazy” to sign up for the Obama-era program that offered protection from deportation and renewable work permits.

Kelly said Trump’s recent offer to provide a path to citizenship for up to 1.8 million immigrants went “beyond what anyone could have imagined.” A bipartisan offer by six senators that Trump rejected would have made citizenship possible for the 690,000 “Dreamers” registered under the program, known by its acronym DACA.

“There are 690,000 official DACA registrants and the president sent over what amounts to be two and a half times that number, to 1.8 million,” Kelly said. “The difference between (690,000) and 1.8 million were the people that some would say were too afraid to sign up, others would say were too lazy to get off their asses, but they didn’t sign up.”

Immigration experts cite various reasons as to why people eligible for DACA’s protections never applied, including fears that participating would expose them to immigration authorities.

By JILL COLVIN ,  Associated Press – published on STL.News by St. Louis Media, LLC (R.A)

[sbsfa-blog]

the uncensored guide to not looking like a fuck [men](target)

 hey everyone,

as spring is fully beginning and the temperature is no longer frigid as fuck, i thought it would be a good idea for me to remind you all about what looks good and what doesn’t. keep in mind that these are my opinions, and however good they are, you don’t need to get your nuts all twisted if i trash on your nylon sweat pants and batman graphic tee, okay?

this week i am looking at the spring product line of the best retail store in the whole world--target. this wonderland for adults is not only reasonably priced but you also won’t see a 600-lb fatty wearing a NASCAR t-shirt and purple crocs cruising the isles like you do at other places. that said, let’s jump into it:

shirts

when it’s above 60 degrees, your gonna start wanting to wear t-shirts and that’s fine as long as you remember the acronym ‘DWFGTWAYFT’ which stands for ‘don’t fucking wear graphic t-shirts, what are you fucking twelve?’. there is no reason anybody over the age of 18 should be wearing anything that has a stupid saying or a mindless logo and target is unfortunately notorious for selling these dumb ass shirts that make it look like you just learned what an erection is. here is a comprehensive list of no-no’s:

if you think this is funny, please leave my blog

you might as well advertise that you’re a fucking loser with this shirt--your best friends are animate toys from a movie? 

you = virgin

you also = virgin

if you wear this everyone knows you don’t get invited to parties

if your wear this everyone knows your girlfriend is a sophomore in high school

your mom doesn’t even think this is quirky

just look at this guy... he looks like a disciple of american pshyco

idk, this one feels a bit racist ??

do you understand?! don’t wear fucking graphic tees, they look so dumb and we have come too far as mankind to squander it advertising stupid shit. i honestly don’t even like band merch either (unless it’s TLOP) because honestly dude, nobody fucking cares what you like.

shorts

okay now that we got shirts out of the way, let’s talk about the shorts you should not being wearing. 

it should go with out saying but obviously cargos are a fucking definite no. unless you’re hiking the Appalachians or using the side pockets to hold the massive amount of condoms you need on a daily basis, you look like a dumbass.

if you’re a regular guy, stop wearing shorts that go below the knees. shorter shorts are the style now and even if your not into it, you at least shouldn’t look like you’re wearing a 4 year old’s dress pants.

only guys that scream at their wife in public should wear these. 

ah the classic pastel shorts. a staple for frat-star wannabes and college try-hards these may have had their place a couple years ago, but now i’m telling you they’re fucking dead. these types of shorts are so overplayed that they might as well be called ‘closer’ by the chainsmokers. in fact, these lame ass shorts should be dubbed the official shorts of the friend zone, because if you wear them you are boring and you don’t have sex. 

shoes

finally, shoes. many psychologists claim that a person’s shoes are the first thing strangers judge them on... and even if that isn’t true, there are some shoe style you should definitely not wear in public ever.

i know it can be hot out there, but please please please don’t wear just sandals. the worst thing you can do to another person with out touching them is flashing them with your nasty feet and toe nails. nobody wants to see your gross fucking man feet with your hairy fucking toes. socks and birkenstocks were designed for public, save your sock-less flops for the beach or in private. 

honestly i don’t have a huge beef with slip on loafers but dude, think about the message these send. “oh sorry guys, i’m so busy or oblivious that i lack the focus required to tie my shoes once during the whole fucking day”. 

obviously not..

AWESOME. i have quickly broken down some of the biggest pitfalls available for sale at target and shown what items you (as a man that gives at least a tiny fuck about what they look like) should stop wearing/buying. next week i’ll start describing some solid clothing choices you should definietly have in your closest for spring and the start of summer. also next friday i will make a similar post but for women’s clothes at target, so look forward to that. until then remember:  DWFGTWAYFT