#hate these people with a passion hate them

[natequarter]

[#also hot take from someone who is a sex favorable ace; #they don't even write them properly . they just write an allo character and stick a little aroace nametag on with duct tape #they don't consider how the identity impacts the way they go about having a relationship #the aro and or ace identity is just a thing that they vaguely wave at out of obligation #l just hate that people consider romance/sex favorable aros and aces more "palatable" #but only by erasing the fact that they are aro or ace. #so really truly i think allos should not be allowed to make content of aspec characters #until they know how to accept a character who is completely averse to relationships #accurate romance/sex favorable aros and aces can only be depicted when making them romance/sex favorable is not just a tool to put them in- #-a 'normal’ relationship without flatout admitting to #and that's only possible when people let aspec characters exist as single without needing a relationship #sorry for rambling i'm just very passionate about the subject]

it is absolutely so absurd how shipping culture has made people feel like every single aroace character must be romance and sex favorable and its a normal thing to insist to real aspec people that its not disrespectful to mass headcanon every aspec character as favorable. yes yes youre very woke for knowing that aros can date and aces can have sex but maybe its not cool that you cant handle a character that doesnt want those things and should be understood in a way that isnt via a pairing

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hi! I love your interpretation of the yan batfam so much bdnfbfkjfnd I was wonderong how you think Dick and/or Jason would react to a rather compassionate batsis?

She's definitely not on board with their obsession but she can understand where their coming from and gives them like ACTUAL compassion.

Ik you said Dick enjoys having a positive image in front of others most of all his younger sister, so how would he react to her seeing his flaws but still, being kind? Jason strives to be "normal", so much so he spirals sometimes, but like what would knowing/experiencing genuine closeness (not pity or false pretenses) change?

Idk if either of them would redeem their bad habits, but am curious to know what being truly seen and accepted would do to them, especially by someone they care about so much. The bats can have their walls pretty high up after all

A/N: sorry about the late responses. I've been out of it the past few days.

context dick context jay

Okay so when you are dealing with yanderes... you are dealing with extremely unstable people. There are so many ways thus could go but here's just one

Dick

Maybe your compassion makes Dick chill out a bit with his unhealthy tendencies. I think initially he'd still be uncomfortable and bothered that you can see right through him. You can see all his flaws and you don't revere him like the others which is bad. It will still anger him and he'll try manipulating you into loving him like everyone does at first.

A heart to heart with him could work. You acknowledge you know he's crumbling and has really horrible coping mechanisms but that doesn't mean that you don't love him. That you respect him even more because you see just how much passion he puts into everything that he does. It isn't his fault he craves so much validation when he had the upbringing he had but he doesn't have to pretend to be someone he's not to please you. That even if he doesn't smile as much or be selfish sometimes that you won't love him any less. You give him a space to be authentic with you with no judgment.

"erm,,,okay. I'll keep that in mind."

He's a bit taken back by it and doesn't know how to exactly process what you just said. I've mentioned before that he doesn't exactly know how to just be himself because for most of his life he was always being someone that others needed.

He's still on guard for a while. He will dip his toes in the waters by maybe not smiling as much with you or rescheduling your hang out session to go out on a date just to see your reaction. Did you truly mean it when you said he was allowed to be selfish? He was fully expecting you to hate him but seeing just how unbothered you were made him go...oh!

I think this shifts his obsession with you. He's still very much yandere but i think he's much more child-like ? I mean Dick still is obsessed with you and all that jazz but before, he wanted to be the best older brother/father figure. His happiness was dependent on how much you needed and revered him. But now you're becoming his safety blanket for when he's stressed, tired or upset. WIth you he can just lay on your shoulders without speaking and you won't even mind. He can be kind of assholey or dark and you will understand he's just in a mood and what he says never leaves the two of you. You won't take away your compassion or love based on how he acts...the first non-transactional relationship he's ever truly and it's pretty great. He finally feels like a brother and not like he's playing house anymore.

Don't get me wrong, he's still your older brother who gets on your nerves but there's just this mutual appreciation there that lacks with the others.It's clear to the others that he loves you just a bit more than the rest. When it's movie/game nights, he will allow you to sit it out or not tag along to restaurants. He's very protective and defensive over you. He doesn't feel as much of a need to do all that stupid crap with you because if he wanted your time, he could have a peaceful moment on the rooftops with you instead.

Jason

Hmm..i think Jason will just always feel a bit outcasted. There are plenty of people who do care about Jason in the comics but it's hard to relate to someone who's been through what he's been. It's just so unique to him. He knows you don't truly understand what it's like to have spirits of the Lazarus haunting you in your sleep. He knows that you cannot feel the pain of being replaced by someone you're now forced to see as a brother.

When i wrote my last piece a few people took it as me saying the reader found Jason to be odd. Really what it was is that Jason put those thoughts into his own head because he internalized the joke because of his own insecurities. The reader was perfectly fine with Jason being a little off...it made sense as he would've just come back from being dead and is trying to find a bit of normalcy.

It's funny though because while he's trying to be "independent" it's painfully clear he's still very much attached to you and is still unknowingly mimicking you.

I think though if reader sat down with Jason and explained he doesn't need to change or be "normal" because you love him the way he is, maybe he will relax a bit. But i think there would always be voices in Jason's ears telling him he needs to be perfect. My version of jason is around 20-ish year old who is a bit emotionally stunted and disoriented because he's just coming out of the pit. After a few years of being integrated back into the family he'll understand that you actually do love him as a brother and he serves a great purpose even if that purpose doesn't look the same as Dick's.

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐈𝐈 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

summary: you've always had a thing for JJ, but your relationship with Rafe has always been intense—heated and frustrating. The two of you are bound by similar trauma and can't deny that your hate for each other might not be hate after all.

cw: fem!reader, slightly bitchy!reader, pogue!reader, swearing, family trauma, soft!rafe??, angst, smut, 2.4K

<3

You have always known the love that is messy, unpredictable, and filled with resentment. 

The walls of your childhood home were filled with that type of love. At times, your parents' love was loud and sharp, words that shattered glass and held the air—your mother’s sobs still echo in your mind—raw and desperate, and your father’s voice, deep and laced with bitterness, only pushing your mother further over the edge. Then, there were the moments of uneasy calm, when they would put it all aside and pretend to be okay. They would love each other like they should, treating you the same, creating a fragile illusion of normalcy, one you’d cling to for a long time. You’d catch them sharing a tender glance and for a moment you’d selfishly let yourself believe everything was okay—but you knew better than that. 

The nights after they fought, they slipped into your room, brushing your hair from your eyes and kissing you good night. The silence was thick enough to choke on. You wanted to kick and scream, to sob in their arms and beg them to tell you that everything was going to be alright. But you were completely alone, no matter how much they told you they loved you—it felt like a twisted version of what love should be. And every time they fought, you realized it wasn’t just a fight—it was their way of  choosing each other over you, time after time. 

It’s frightening to not know anything else—knowing you can’t give the same love back because you don’t know how. 

When you met the Pogues, it was a disturbance to the way you’ve always known things to be—and it was freeing. They welcomed you with open arms, pulling you into their tight-knit circle that felt like home. And when Sarah joined everything clicked into place. You had each other and that’s all you really needed—Pogue for life, the six of you against the world. 

But, somewhere along the way you guys lost that. Maybe it started when JJ and Kie got together, spending more time in their own world and drifting away from the group—they were always with you but they were distant, always more wrapped up in one another. Or maybe it was when you lost sight of the love that they opened you up to—when your parents finally split, leaving you to deal with the mess they made.

You missed the closeness, the stability, the only people that have ever felt like home. 

But, goddamn Rafe Cameron was a wake up call in the most intoxicating way. He got under your skin the same way you got under his. You’re both stubborn and hot-headed, relentless in getting what you want, and neither of you willing to back down. You reveled in the tension, the way his jaw clenched during an argument, the way his arms flexed when he crossed them. He was tall and imposing, his sun-kissed skin glowing from countless hours under the warm coastal sun. And that grin that made your stomach flip and touch that sent heat to your core. Fuck, you loved it.

He was the embodiment of messy, unpredictable love. It was the kind of passion that felt dangerous, exhilarating but filled with resentment. You couldn’t help yourself, you were drawn to it then just as you are now. You have your parents to blame for that, and possibly the lack of therapy. But you kept a balance with the Pogues—they were your refuge, your safe haven, while Rafe stirred something inside you, raising your temperature to dizzying heights and keeping your heart racing with every glance and every argument.

But now, you’re in deep shit. You’ve done it again. And again. And another fucking time. And you hate to admit, you’re catching feelings. 

No. no. no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be easy with Rafe—a quick fuck, no strings attached and no goodbyes. Just pure animalistic desire and hate, pushing you onto the bed, fingers digging into your hips just enough to prove something to himself. You’d be a brat, stubborn and teasing before he’d have you begging for him—you fucking hated that it turned you on. 

 It was easy at the beginning, the time you called after your fight with the Pogues was simple. 

“Oh? Do you need another distraction?” he said, teasing evident in his tone. 

“Fuck you.” you shot back, bitterness settling in your mouth, but you knew he was right. 

“Is that what you want?” he taunts and your guilty silence is deafening. Then, you heard Rafe sigh through the phone, a real sigh, “My doors unlocked.” A silent invitation, an easy one. But simple doesn’t always mean easy. And Rafe Cameron is anything but easy, you’re naive to think that this situation ever really was.

Each time you saw him, it became more and more real, and now you can’t help but want him in more ways than one when he looks at you the way he does after sex, so raw and real. You want to stay and trace his jaw, spend the rest of the day wrapped up in bed with him. But you aren’t those people, you don’t do that. So then you leave before it’s weird, before he closes off and shuts you out, before you feel the guilt of your actions. 

You should end it now, but you can’t bring yourself to when he makes you feel this good. 

His lips trail the expanse of your body kissing, biting, sucking his way down, thumb playing with your bottom lip, before leaving to rip your panties apart. 

“You’re fucking paying for those.” you snarl.

“Whatever you want, baby.” you can feel the shape of his smug smile against your throat, and it makes you want to slap him. But instead, you're reaching a hand up to cradle the back of his neck, keeping him close to you. 

He rocks his thumb against your clit, smirking at you with pure arrogant satisfaction from the way that you shudder underneath his touch.

“I fucking swear,” you nearly hiss, nudging your hips in hopes that it’ll drag the pressure of his fingers closer, “If you don’t do something, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” The low rasp of his voice sounds completely unbothered. 

"I'll leave,” you say firmly. Or as firmly as you possibly can with the way that the knuckle of his thumb has begun to rotate around your clit in tight, but soft sweeping brushes. But he doesn't appear to be worried in the slightest. He just grins at you. 

“No, you won’t,” He says so certainly and he’s right. You won’t leave, you have never before and you definitely won’t now, “‘Cause you need me, baby. Need me to make you cum because that dirty Pogue fucking won’t.”

Fuck him.

He tugs his hand from your underwear, and you can't help but mourn the loss. His rough hands move under your shirt, squeezing your chest. His calloused fingers brush against your nipples and you arch your back into his touch. 

“So fucking good, just for me.” he whispers with a condescending smirk as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip.

“You’re all talk, Cameron.” you say, biting back a moan. 

He fucking laughs, “I can make you beg.”

“Like you can?” Of course he can. 

“Just shut up and let me fuck you.” he says irriated, his voice low and rough. He pulls himself out of his shorts, giving himself a few tugs before shoving himself into your tight walls, making you gasp. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, his hips immediately snapping in and out, the force of his thrusts making your body jerk forward.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he taunts, chuckling at your pathetic noises, “Don’t have much to say now, do you?”

“God, I fucking hate you.” you spit, nails pressing into his biceps, before his thrusts become more aggressive, his hips slapping against your own, anger and tension seeping out of you both. 

“Mm, but you’re taking me so well.” he whispers, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear—you clench around him driving him crazier, hips snapping wildly, “S’good…so pretty.”

You moan, losing it as you grip him harder, body shuddering as your orgasm approaches, “oh my god.”

“Are you gonna cum for me?” you nod deliriously, to far gone to the point that you’re not even embarrassed that Rafe is seeing you in this state, “What a fucking cock-slut, using me everytime you need to forget about your little crush.”

You’re both so close. So, so close. 

Rafe takes one hand from his grip on your hips, using it to reach down and press his thumb against your clit, rubbing tight circles. Your back arches off the mattress, a loud moan leaving your lips.

“Oh, fuck, Rafe—” you squeeze your eyes shut, wrapping your arms around his neck, finger nails digging into his skin as you clench around him. That’s all it takes for your orgasm to rip through you, your body shaking. Then, you feel him twitch inside of you, a guttural groan rumbling from his throat as you pull him closer. Your body spasming and pussy still clenching wildly is all Rafe needed to go over the edge.

You groan internally, the guilt settling as you roll over after Rafe pulls out of you and leaves a chaste kiss on your collarbone—he’d never done that before. 

Your heart is still racing as you take a deep breath, the air thick with mingling scents of sex and shame, which makes your nose scrunch up in disgust. 

Why do you keep doing this?

Rafe was undeniably a good time—a whirlwind of lust, but a big mistake. A repetitive one. You’ve dug your grave and now you’ve fallen into it. You mentally curse yourself for wanting more than just the thrill. This was never part of the fucking plan.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and soft—something you’ve never heard from him before—cutting through your thoughts. Clearly, you’ve been lying here for too long, and this is his not-so-subtle way of suggesting you get out. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you stand and start to gather your clothes to put them back on your body. 

“Woah, wait, where are you going?” He asks, sitting up on his elbows, his expression shifting from casual to urgent, as if the mere thought of you leaving sends a jolt of panic through him. You’re taken aback, this isn’t supposed to happen either, he’s supposed to let you walk out and wait for another knock on the door. He isn’t supposed to care. 

“What? You want me to stay?”  you ask, half-teasing and half-defensive, tugging your shirt the rest of the way on. The fabric feels soft against your skin, unlike the way his hands felt just moments ago.

“Maybe I do.” He leans back slightly, his eyes searching yours. 

For a moment you just blink at him.

“That’s real funny, Cameron,” you scoff, throwing your hands on your hips, “Don’t you have another whore for that?”

“Why the fuck do you have to be like this?” He asks, his frustration palpable as he runs a hand through his hair in a way that makes him look even more disheveled and appealing. But he drops his hand quickly, as if he’s too tired to keep up the fight.

“Like what?” you ask, tilting your head, feigning innocence—you notice his jaw tick, “I thought you liked this?”

He falls silent.

“Hm?” you mock, leaning forward slightly, “You did earlier.”

“Seriously, just—”

“You don’t do this,” you counter, gesturing between the two of you, your hands slicing through the air. “You don’t just...want someone like me.”

“What if I do?” Rafe’s voice is low, and he holds your gaze challengingly, before you break away, rolling your eyes.

“You don’t.”

“You can’t tell me what I want.” He says, and you can tell you’ve hit a nerve, but he still doesn’t raise his voice. 

“You don’t even fucking know what you want,” you shoot back, pointing your finger at him, “And I think you’re scared.”

“Fuck, Y/n,” Rafe sighs, eyes pleading in a way that makes you want to punch him. “I just—right now, I want you here with me.

Those words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. No, no, no—he can’t do that.

“The fuck you do.” you reply, trying to keep your composure even as your heart pounds furiously in your chest.

“Will you just c’mere.” He sounds defeated, pulling the covers down on what he's inviting to be your side of the bed, “Please?”

“Rafe…” you whisper, shoulders slumping from their previous tense state, “I can’t.”

“I just—want you here.” His voice is sincere, it makes your head spin. 

You can’t help it. You give in. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like he cares in the same way you do. Like he’s afraid to lose you too. 

“Don’t make me regret this.”  you mumble, the words escaping as you walk back over to his bed, sliding under the covers with him. The moment you settle in, you’re hit by the lingering scent of sex, a bittersweet reminder of your guilt, but it fades when he pulls you closer. Your hands instinctively press against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. An arm wraps around you, and his leg slots between yours. You never would’ve taken Rafe for a cuddler but here you are—you don’t hate it. 

“This what you wanted?” You ask, almost letting out a genuine laugh when he shoots you a glare. 

“Yeah, now shut up.” The arm around you moves lightly over your ribs, the other cautious as he raises it to your face. When his lips meet yours, they’re soft, unhurried—so different from the heat you felt earlier. It’s almost overwhelming, like he’s kissing someone he really cares about. It’s still dizzying but in a different way that you’re used to. He shifts, aligns his parting lips with a firmer pressure and–oh, there’s the heat, but you lift your hand to his jaw, your thumb grazing his skin—a silent signal for him to slow down. He responds instantly, breaking away for just a moment to plant a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth before returning to your lips with the same gentle, deliberate pressure that makes you feel wanted. Like maybe what he said was true. He doesn’t just need you—he wants you. And that’s more than enough for you to stay.

<3

masterlist . rafe cameron masterlist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[galstelperion]

hey, alma. i have been following you for a while and i like many of your takes, you always seem level-headed in this fandom, but i think you missed this time around and that post wasn't it. i'm not writing you this to make you feel bad! please, believe me, my intent is not to bring you down or anything of this sort. but the user you were talking about is getting witch hunted by celeb0rn fans, and she made that post because she has been harassed by haladriel-antis and celeb0rn fans for months and months, simply for her interpretations of the show. she never attacked anyone personally, she never rebloged anyone's takes to dismiss them. she just expressed her dislike of celeb0rn fans' own witch hunts and their own insistence that they get galadriel the right way. so it was quite disappointing to see haladriel shipper such as yourself add fuel to the fire that is eating up our fandom right now. turning on each other for celeb0rn is a bit of a waste, isn't it? and we know that the majority of celeb0rn stans aren't genuinely his stans, they are just antis.

i think the fandom is getting more and more toxic, not sure what it is about. im not writing you this so that you answer to this ask, i know you probably weren't coming from a bad place, but i just think this time your post had consequences that you did not intend to happen.

Hello anon, since you seem to be at least cordial, I will respond to this ask and it will be the last time I address this situation:

"we know that the majority of celeb0rn stans aren't genuinely his stans, they are just antis."

This is the root of the problem here. I am saying this in the kindest way possible. Yes, you are allowed to dislike a character. You are even allowed to bash said character in your own spaces. A line is crossed when you make untrue statements like this. The attitude that the majority of "Celeborn stans" who also happen to enjoy Haladriel are just antis is inaccurate and has made a lot of people incredibly uncomfortable. It has made me uncomfortable as someone who is friends with many multishippers who like and explore dynamics with all of these characters involved.

As I said in my original post, I do not ascribe to this all or nothing mentality to shipping or fandom in general. The idea that there is only one right way to like and consume this ship is hurtful and makes many people feel ostracized and unwelcome in this space. I say this as someone who doesn't even care for Celeborn as a character at all and have actively shit talked him around mutuals who agree with me. But I also say this as someone who has been friends with the most incredible Haladriels for 2+ years at this point, Haladriels who have written 100k+ word fanfictions, Haladriels who have dissected and analyzed lore back to front since the early 2000s, who are also interested in exploring Galadriel's dynamic with Celeborn! *gasp* Don't put me in shackles and drag me to the town square but someone who likes a character you don't isn't a crime! It doesn't make them any less of a Haladriel. It doesn't make them "antis in disguise"

This sort of mindset has been permeating the tag for many months now. I never felt inclined to really say anything about it until these broad generalizations were being made by people who I've personally never even seen before here. Like my good friend @nocaptainonthisship has said, "I've been in this fandom since its inception two years ago" isn't a dick measuring contest. It's saying I've been here. I've seen it.

I don't know a whole lot about this account that you're referring to in the ask. I don't even know anything about these people supposedly harassing them either. I don't condone that. I have refrained from @'ing them at all either here or in my original post so as to not to contribute to pile-ons if that is indeed happening. I did block them about a week ago after continuously seeing these actively hostile and confrontational takes about who can and can't be considered a real Haladriel based on their character preferences. Feel free to block me if that is the approach to fandom you want to have. It will certainly never be mine.

[burningcheese-merchant]

"Our Little Dance" - BurningCheese Short #7

THE SEQUEL TO "Mine Forever More" IS HERE! After I went through the story in episode 6 a couple more times to help visualize things and NOT just to watch Burning Spice openly obsess over Golden Cheese over and over again I swear, I was finally struck with inspiration. Thought about some concepts during work, fleshed them out more when I came home, finally reached a coherent game plan, and here we are. I really hope you all enjoy it!

WARNING PART 2: Again, this is one-sided BurningCheese/GoldenSpice. This is Yandere Spice, not Flirty Asshole Spice. This Spice doesn't deserve Golden Cheese, he deserves a restraining order, or a spot on a registry, or to outright face the fucking wall. He is worse in this part than the last. Go read something else if you're not comfortable with that (and/or if you're a minor).

He knew she wouldn't disappoint him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Burning Spice never cared for dancing. Those few times he allowed himself to be dragged over to that happy, energetic crowd, in those long-gone days of his heroic youth, he always found himself regretting it. Slow, hunched steps so as not to accidentally stomp on the child's feet, as he was so much bigger and stronger than they were. Awkward mimicry of the group circling him, cheering each other on as they carried out traditional performances (he didn't join them on that, of course, the dance itself was tedious enough). Averted - rolled, if he was annoyed enough - eyes and polite disinterest for the red-faced girl who tripped over herself just asking for his hand (she seemed too starstruck to notice he danced with her out of obligation and nothing else).

He remembers people trying to change his mind on the matter. Dancing was not so different from fighting, they said. They had the same flow, the same energy, if one did them right.

What a bold-faced, silly little lie. Dancing only got worse each time he engaged in it. It was annoying. It was all fake. It was boring. Like everything else turned out to be.

He hated those people. He hated festivals. He hated the pitiful civilizations that conjured them. He hated peace and merriment. He hated history. He hated change. He hated life. He hated dancing.

...Or he did, once. He used to. He sees the error of his ways now.

It turns out that what he'd needed all along was the right dance partner.

And she was exactly that, and so much more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their first dance was too short. Their shared passion burned bright, but fizzled out quickly. She'd missed an important step. Stumbled. Fallen.

It was alright. He was angry in the moment, and he told her so. He punished her for her mistake, for her weakness - just as she deserved. They had both waited far too long for this for her to go on and screw it up.

But it was alright. Really. She was still here; she was still breathing; he could still her heart beating in her chest. So long as these were true, then it would be alright. She would collect herself. She would rise, strong and proud, shaking off all of the dirt and blood. She would return to him. To his embrace. They would dance again, better than before. He would give himself to her in his entirety, as he'd planned to. And she would do the same.

His usual lack of patience got the better of him, if only for a moment, as he tucked her into her prison cell. But how could he be blamed? She was simply too beautiful. She looked too perfect there, nestled into his arms, her head still resting against his chest. He'd told her that the kiss was payment for him allowing her lackey to live - and that was true, it really was. He'd wanted that man dead the very second he came into Burning Spice's line of sight. He was too close to her, in either sense of the word, and Burning Spice simply would not have it. It simply wouldn't do. This error shall be corrected soon enough - with extreme, ever-mounting prejudice, the longer the man spent anywhere near Burning Spice's beloved.

But really, more than that, he just wanted to taste her. He simply couldn't bear not doing so anymore. The faint shimmer of her golden hair in the pale light shining down from the ceiling, those rogue strands still framing her face so prettily despite being otherwise ruined, the feeling of her skin against his, that sweet mouth set in such a dazzling frown, that glint of furious determination in her eyes - it was all too much. It was her own fault, really. She made it too hard to say no.

Fuck, she tasted good. So, so good. Sweet, but tangy, and oh so rich. All mixed together into one flavor that he could only describe as her. As Golden Cheese. And fuck, he was already hooked. Addicted to the feeling of her soft lips on his own. Addicted to the feeling of his tongue caressing hers. Addicted to the feeling of her breath mixing with his. He needed more. He'd die without it. He'd die without her.

She would give him more, he knew. She had to. They had so much lost time to make up for already. A bit of time recovering in peace and quiet (ugh), and she'll be alright again. She'll come back to him. And he'll give her many, many more long-awaited kisses.

Their dance wasn't over yet.

She won't disappoint him. She can't.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yes... Yes, this was what he wanted. Exactly what he wanted. She knew him far too well. Better than anyone ever had.

She escaped. With her lackey, unfortunately - but oh well, they can deal with that later. What mattered now was her taking this next step. Taking the lead in their special dance. So bold, so forward. He loved it. He loved her.

She led him through the halls of his temple; had him weave between the columns, hurry past faded murals depicting his former greatness. He chased her every which way, drank in her lingering scent with relish. Perhaps he should have let her take the lead sooner; this was SO much fun. He was having far too much fun following in her steps. Only she would have the cleverness and creativity to also make their dance a game. To add in all of those aspects of a thrilling hunt that he so adored into their little performance. Yes, he loved this. He adored it.

Honestly, where has she been all his life?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When their dance hit that fever pitch once again, he half expected his heart to burst from his chest out of sheer euphoria. Dragging one another through the temple a second time, all of those worthless walls and pillars and decorations getting caught in their beautiful maelstrom. Such delightful devastation, brought about by her. By his love for her. By them and their union. By this perfect little dance of theirs.

In his manic glee, he let his mask fall, if only slightly. Now wasn't the right time, he would pour his dark, aching heart out to her only when he knew that right time had come - but oh God, she knew exactly what to say to him and how, and how to bring out both the best and worst in him all at once. He would taunt her, mock her, and she would meet his sneering with her own sarcastic indignation. This bickering, this bantering - so, so much fun. SHE was so much fun.

She teased him, too, much to his heightened joy. "The world? I do not care for the world! Nor do I wish to protect it! Or to be called a hero!" A bold yet terrible liar, she was, after she ruined their first dance for the sake of that child. She was truly beautiful, inside and out; at her core shone the bright and pure soul of a hero. And yet, she denied it. It was funny. It was cute. She was so cute.

"I am the Radiant Deity of the Golden City! I fight only to protect my treasures. And I will NOT let the likes of you harm what is mine!" Oh, she truly was so adorable. Prized possessions were just what he loved to destroy most. And he HATED how much these things meant to her: her land, her palace, her gold and jewels, her subjects. He hated them so much, that he let his mask slip: he confessed that, when their dance was over, he planned to go and destroy it all. Everything she ever held dear, wiped off the face of the earth. She didn't need any of it, anyway. He realized long ago that nothing truly matters - nothing except for them, of course - and she would come to realize it, too. He would make sure of it.

Nothing mattered to him except for her. Nothing shall matter to her except for him. They shall keep on dancing forever, even as the world crumbled to dust around them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He began losing his patience near the end. Still more her fault than his. She got to him too much. Too badly.

Some of the weight behind his axe vanished, for he began to favor his own hands instead of it. The axe carved her open, drew her blood, had her dancing so erratically, so desperate to evade its brutal swing - and he enjoyed that. But he enjoyed touching her even more. When he got close enough - and he did everything in his power to get close enough, even for just a second - he would catch her off guard by striking her with his fists instead. He just... he NEEDED to touch her. The itch only got more unbearable as they danced on. Just one split second of his hands on her body, that's all. Even in the form of bloodied knuckles leaving deep bruises on her stomach, or knocking the wind out of her lungs. That's all he wanted. Was that so wrong?

If she noticed this, she made no sign of it. With the way she acted, it was fair to assume she no longer noticed much of anything. She was weakening again; though their dance continued on, though that fire still consumed them, it seemed now that she was being overwhelmed. She was starting to stumble again. She missed a step or two. Had him pick up the slack. It was unfortunate, but still fun, still amusing - he was too far gone to really be upset that this was happening again, to be honest. The spices in the air, the smell of her blood, the sound of her cries and labored breathing... too much. All too much. He was losing his damn mind, and it was exquisite.

But... oh, Golden Cheese, his little bird, with her tenacity and her endless surprises. Even as he took charge of their dance again, she found another way to get to him. To crawl beneath his skin and eat him alive from the inside out.

Her tongue - that sweet, soft, delicious, clever, beautiful tongue - became a poisonous barb, as sharp and painful as the tip of the golden spear that tried (and often succeeded, to her credit) to impale him everywhere she could reach. She attacked not only his body now, but his character, his spirit. She called him a failure. Declared that he had never been a hero nor a god, and never deserved to have been called either. She accused him of self-serving cowardice, of wanting desperately to hide his own shortcomings underneath all of that rubble and all of those mutilated corpses. All with that smug, little upturn of the corners of her lips, and a tiny but bright glint in her eye.

Yes... she knew him too well. She knew how to reach into his heart and twist it. She blinded him with love, then rage, then love again. Invigorating fury. Delectable pain.

And he would inflict this same pain on her tenfold, as punishment for her insults, and encouragement for her to say them to him all over again. For Burning Spice loved and worshipped Golden Cheese, poisonous barbs and all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She fell again. Their little dance came to an end. There she was now, on her knees, her head bowed, soaked in blood. THEIR blood, mixed together. For a brief moment, she had turned him into an artist; in turn, he used her as his canvas.

Just what would it take for her to stop being so damn beautiful, he wondered?

"You said I failed? Hahaha..."

Come, now. He couldn't help himself. Their dance had been so much fun; now he was just riding out the rest of his high. And he wanted her with him, doing the same.

"My... greed... never..."

Still fighting, even now. Even with so many shattered, aching bones. Even with her spear all but snapped in half, rendered practically useless. Her voice sounded tired, broken like the rest of her. But she still feigned strength and poise the best she could. A proud warrior to the very end. Lovely. He would never have accepted anything less.

His mouth contorted into a smile of bitter amusement. "Warlords, heroes, villains and kings... I've seen all of them in my time." She had seen fit to give him a scathing lecture before. Why can't he do the same to her here and now? "They all tried to avert their doom, and like one another, they all perished."

No response. Rude... but understandable. It was fine, regardless. Her silence was answer enough.

"You, on the other hand..." He knelt before her, leaning down and resting his forehead against hers. Her skin felt hot and sticky, those tufts of fluffy hair brushing against him damp with blood and sweat. "Forgotten by history itself, and yet you still persist."

He cupped her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look him in the eye. Gone was that bitterness, no longer was he amused. Now his smile was a manic grin that all but split his face wide open, outshined only by the fire in his eyes. His mask had fallen off completely.

"I fucking love it," he told her.

And then he kissed her again, because he had to. Because he couldn't handle not doing so anymore. Their kiss - his kiss - was starved, desperate, sharp teeth and a hot tongue licking and biting at her lips, that same tongue forcing its way into her mouth and eagerly dominating her own. He finally let his hands roam, more than he'd been able to before, and he lost himself in her touch, in the soft, flawless skin of her arms and legs and stomach - every place she, through her chosen attire, had so graciously left exposed to him. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, pressing it into her back - right where her wings used to be. She winced; he hugged her tighter. She grunted in pain, he moaned in delirious pleasure, all but drowning her out. He couldn't take it. Just- just couldn't take it anymore. She was just so perfect. So delicious. She danced so beautifully. She drove him mad. He loved it. He fucking loved it.

Their dance was over, but it was fine. It was alright. It had been fantastic, better than he'd hoped. Another devastating loss to her name, worse than the last - but that was how their dance was supposed to go, anyway. It was alright. She's fine, she'll be fine. He won't allow her not to be, because she needed to get back up and dance with him again, and again, and again, and again and again and again and again and again-

"Master!"

His eyes shot open, and he froze mid-lick, still feeling the erratic pulsing of her jugular vein against his tongue (he had briefly abandoned her lips in favor of her neck, showering it with searing, ravenous affection). Slowly, regretfully, he pulled away, releasing Golden Cheese from his grasp and rising to his feet. Back came that old bitterness - pure and true this time, pulling his lips back into a furious snarl and replacing the burning desire in his eyes with boiling hatred.

Nutmeg Tiger bounded into the room and knelt (collapsed, really) at his feet, exhaustion written all over her features but offering him a dutiful smile nevertheless. "Heh... I'm glad to see you... pleased... Great One."

Pleased? She thought he was pleased? He had been relishing his ultimate victory, in this little dance he had with his little bird, finally holding her in his arms again and touching and tasting her... and this- this miserable wretch barges in and interrupts them, and she thought he was PLEASED?

"You! Where have you been?" he spat at her. "You seem even more pathetic than usual."

So pathetic was she, apparently, that she failed to notice his clear outrage at her presence and actually responded. "I merely... took care of that... lackey of hers."

Another fatal mistake. HE had wanted to be the one to "take care of that lackey of hers". He'd wanted to strangle him with his own entrails and gloat that Golden Cheese was HIS AND HIS ALONE as he watched the light in that worm's eyes dim. But no. Nutmeg Tiger robs him of joy and satisfaction yet again.

She kept talking. This weak, mindless, PATHETIC creature kept talking at him. Something or another about the lackey revealing information about Golden Cheese's subjects, and how she'd convinced some Spices to desert. For Golden Cheese's sake - and perhaps to sprinkle a bit of salt into her wounds - he feigned surprise and interest, and laughed in her face when Nutmeg Tiger was finished. He knew all of this already. He knew his little bird inside and out, thanks to the Soul Jams. But playing pretend for a little while wouldn't hurt, would it?

"How does it feel?" he asked her, after he'd indulged in his fair share of cruel mockery. "How does it feel to lose everything?"

Nothing but the sight and sound of her clutching at the ground, trembling fingers raking through the dirt.

"But I must give credit where it's due," he laughed. Perhaps a bit of honest encouragement would rouse her. "After all, it's thanks to you that I realized I had to get my Soul Jam back."

She'd done far more for him - to him - than just that, of course. More than mere words could express. But that was what their dance had been for, wasn't it? That's what all of their dances will be for.

He reached down and grabbed her chin again. "Look me in the eye, Golden Cheese," he said. "I wish to see your face when I kill you."

He won't kill her. He can't. Her death would only result in his own, out of grief and boredom. He will pretend to kill her, then steal her away when neither this brainwashed fool nor anyone else was watching. He'll take her to his palace, to his bedroom. He'll clean her up, help her recover faster so they could dance again sooner. And while he waited, he would open up to her. Pour the whole rest of his heart out to her. Make her whine and beg to have his hands and mouth explore those parts of her that she still hid from him.

"I shall crush your greed, your treasures, your dough." He squeezed her face hard, digging his nails into her cheeks. "And, in the end, I shall take back my Soul Jam."

He knelt down before her one more time, low enough so his face was level with hers. "Don't worry. I always keep my promises..."

He thought he felt her head shift in his grasp... He thought he felt her eyes flicker towards him, if only for a moment, before falling to the ground once more. He promised to bring them back and never let them leave him again.

"All you ever held dear will be swallowed by the Tide of Change."

Everything. Her friends. Her subjects. Whatever still remained of her kingdom. The world itself. All of it. There shall be nothing left except for him, and all of those lonely, adoring, battle-crazed promises he's been silently making to her all the way until that very moment.

Above all else, he promised to keep dancing with her forever.

All he could do - all he's done, all this time - was hope she heard him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She... Golden Cheese, she...

...Oh. Oh, Golden Cheese. His gorgeous, powerful, radiant Golden Cheese...

She surprised him again. As she teetered at the edge of this great precipice, she regained her strength and clarity and saved herself. She broke free from his grasp. She rose to her feet and stood tall. Her voice rose with each word she spoke; words born from pain and sorrow, but overcome with righteous determination. And the Soul Jam - her Soul Jam - recognized this show of unwavering courage and returned to her without hesitation.

And she... then she...

She... changed. She changed form. Gone were those numerous deep wounds that carved and bled into each other. Gone was the blood, the sweat, the tears. A warm, shimmering light enveloped her, stripped her of all of her woes - and her old, tattered clothes - fuck, he'd been staring closely enough to realize that the light had temporarily stripped her bare and damn it, why wouldn't it let him see?! - and released her back into the world, born entirely anew. Dressed in the finest gold, the brightest blue, the- the red? There was red on her now? She donned his color? Just for his sake?

Oh, Golden Cheese, his beloved Golden Cheese... His delectable prey, his precious golden thief, his pretty little bird-

No. Not just a bird now. A phoenix. His stunning, courageous, radiant phoenix.

Yes, his beloved phoenix took him by surprise again and hurried him back to the dance floor... and he watched, not daring to blink even once, as she rose into the sky, eclipsing the sun itself with her mighty wings.

"Burning Spice," she called to him, "It seems the Tide of Change has turned in my favor."

Ohhhhhhhhh fuck, this perfect woman. Always knowing what to say to him and how. Never without her confidence, her pride, her shine. Her radiance.

"Hear my words. You chose to let go of everything you ever had. You do not deserve even the smallest smidgen of my treasures."

Oh, he was hearing her words, alright. He was etching them into the walls of his skull, pouring them onto his brain, forcing them to sink in as deep as possible. Letting the sound of her angelic voice nest in his ears and infect his mind, forcing all of his remaining thoughts out and taking their place like a greedy parasite.

But she was lying and teasing him again, pretty thing. He hasn't let go of everything. He was still clinging to his darling phoenix, desperate to keep her close. She was the only treasure of hers that he ever wanted. And the only thing that will make him let go is death itself.

Yet more glittering golden lights appeared all around her, alongside thickening clouds of earth and spice. From this divine storm came a cluster of spears, each one sharper and deadlier than the last.

The grin on his face ached terribly now, with how great and long-lasting it was.

"How can someone who has forsaken everything prevail over someone who has lost everything?"

Ah, but that wasn't true, either. She has him! She still has him and his love, their love. She still had their little dance; all of those little steps and bends and twirls, their boundless passion and energy, the electrifying touch of their skin and mingling of their breaths. And as he told her once before, he would gladly forsake everything for her. His temple, his possessions, his fellow Spices, EVERYTHING FOR HER AND ONLY HER!

"Remember this moment and taste the bitterness of regret..."

Regret? What regret? He wasn't capable of that anymore and he never would be again - not as long as she was there, taking the Sun's place as the source of light and warmth in his world.

"For you are about to face defeat from everything you have ever discarded!!!"

She dove straight towards him, volley after volley of spears raining down alongside her. His very own meteor shower, with the most captivating shooting star right at the center.

He leapt towards her, the strength of his leap leaving behind a crater where he once stood, wild, demonic cackling spilling from his mouth with abandon. Eyes locked onto one another's: brilliant, wrathful, glittering gold and smoldering, ecstatic, lovestruck red. Spear aimed right at his heart. Axe ready to swipe at her waist and cleave her in two.

She was offering him her hand, asking for his own in turn. She wanted to dance with him again. She missed being in his arms, and the two of them gliding across the floor together in perfect synchronicity. Their unrivaled harmony, the envy of all who witnessed it.

He shall take her hand. How could he not? He loved dancing with her far too much to do otherwise. He loves dancing now, and it's all her fault. She made it too hard to say no.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She did not disappoint him, and neither did the crushing weight of his entire temple bearing down on his back. How touching of her to leave him with such a gift, honestly.

Their last dance ended with a bang. With her staying true to her word and striking him down with all that he had discarded. And now there he lay, in the ruins of that place he and many others once cherished as a home and sanctuary.

He could hear a voice, somewhere at the edge of all the rubble. Nutmeg Tiger. If only he'd had the good sense to slaughter her like a pig like he ought to have ages ago. Now, as he shrugs the debris off of himself and regains his footing, he consoles himself with the idea that in the future, he can execute her right in front of his darling phoenix as a way to return her loving gesture. Yes, that sounds like a plan...

His muscles and bones screamed at him with every little movement he made, but he did not listen. Instead he shambled forward, out of reach of the temple ruins, that mewling, pathetic creature that called herself Nutmeg Tiger still buzzing around him like the insignificant little fly she was.

Clutching at the stab wound in his side (the one that was bleeding the most heavily, anyway), Burning Spice threw his eyes to the early morning sky. Their dance had lasted all the way until dawn... Beautiful.

A smile crept across his face, that eventually grew into a grin, that eventually fell open as deep, joyous laughter erupted from the pit of his stomach and out of his bloody mouth. Nutmeg Tiger started laughing too, but he didn't care about that. This moment was meant for him to savor all alone.

His dance with Golden Cheese had been everything he'd dreamed of and more... And he knew that their next dance would be just like it, for she never, ever disappointed him and never, ever will.

And there shall be many more dances. They shall take each other's hand and sway to their unique rhythm over and over again, until pain and exhaustion consumed them both, only to rise and take each other by the hand and dance another day.

Perhaps those fools from eons ago were right: dancing really is like fighting, if done right. And he and Golden Cheese did it exactly right.

Dancing was Burning Spice's favorite thing now, just as Golden Cheese was his favorite person.

He wanted to dance with her forever. Forever and ever and ever...

------------------------------

this was hard to write lol. I really, truly wasn't expecting people to want a sequel to MFM, so I had no plan ready (which is not like me as a writer at all, I am very much an "architect"/obsessive planner with my stories). I waited for episode 6 to drop for inspiration, and when I got it, I hit another roadblock in the form of me having TOO many ideas I wanted to work with. I thought of focusing on their moment right before GC awakens, but then I wanted to also do something with his confession to her (where he admits that he will gladly destroy his entire life to get to her), but then I also wanted to acknowledge his enjoyment of their game of hide-and-seek in the temple, but then but then but then lol. I eventually zeroed in on that scene where he called what they were doing a "dance", and realized that that was what captured my attention the most. The idea that he views their fight as a dance. So that's how I chose to frame his POV and the story as a whole. Like he thinks they're "dancing" together through the whole thing.

idk if I'm happy with the end result overall. I really wanted to do you all justice since you wanted a part 2 so bad. I can always go back and retool things/try to do a "version 2" with those other, smaller concepts as well. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed this. Thank you for caring enough to want to see more from me, sorry for the wait haha

And remember, Burning Spice canonically called her his "little bird" and "lovely" and that he was enjoying "their little dance", and he canonically admitted that he would destroy everything and everyone for her, and no one can ever take that away from us now :)

[mechaknight-98]

Renegade (NSFW) FT Chowon and Hanni

Operator’s Notes: A return to Codex Keepers and Ward Witches. Writing this piece was insanely tough and painful as a bunch of stuff I was seeing happen in real-time and beginning to see further then the people around me caused this to be a miserable story for me to write but the story needed to be told, because to know is to be burdened.

Loremaster Lorgar never thought he’d take on another apprentice Codex Keeper—until he met Doflamingo.

On paper, Doflamingo was average in every way: average height, and average test scores. There was little to distinguish him from other well-educated youth hailing from Terra. To Lorgar, he seemed like anyone’s apprentice.

But then Lorgar met Doflamingo in person. Doflamingo walked in slumped and carried a dejected expression as he entered that stopped for a moment when Lorgar's and Doflamingo's eyes lokced then his expression changed again. The young man fully entered Lorgar’s office with a look of quiet fury. His eyes were weary and bloodshot, and he had betrayed nights of sleepless study, yet his expression held an intensity that contradicted his exhausted appearance. He sat across from Lorgar, but before the Loremaster could say anything, Doflamingo spoke.

“Yeah, I’ll see myself out,” Doflamingo muttered, voice low and resigned. Lorgar raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the defeat in his tone. “Why would you say that? You’ve only just sat down.”

Doflamingo sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “My first choice, Master Aragorn, rejected me. Told me, ‘If I had my way, you wouldn’t have made it past the entrance exam.’ I’ve admired that man’s work for years, and hearing him say that was a… well, it was a reality check. I’m not cut out for this Codex work. Every interview since has felt like a waste of time. I’m just going through the motions so I can figure out what to do next. Maybe the military… or the Peace Corps. Yeah, I could see myself in the Peace Corps.”

Lorgar watched Doflamingo carefully. Beneath the young man’s defeat, there was something more—something familiar. The same feeling he’d had when he met his former apprentice, Othello. But where Othello’s presence was marked by quiet compassion, Doflamingo carried a burning passion— that was pragmatic and unwavering.

“You know what?” Lorgar said after a moment. “I’ll take you in.” Doflamingo blinked, stunned into silence. “Wait, really? Just like that?” Lorgar smiled faintly. “Just like that. We’ll begin with the Naming Ceremony. You’ll choose a name from the Codex that resonates with you, one that reflects your path.”

Without hesitation, Doflamingo responded, “Deathsaurus.” Lorgar’s surprise deepened. Most apprentices took days, sometimes weeks, to choose their Codex name. But when Lorgar met Doflamingo’s eyes, he saw the fierce determination behind them—an unwavering focus fueled by an unrelenting fury.

“And why that name?” Lorgar asked. Doflamingo’s expression softened as he explained, “Deathsaurus is a machine god of destruction from the NeoPaleolithic texts. His purpose wasn’t just destruction though. He was often written in the antagonistic space despite his purpose. He was hated by the other machine gods because they didn’t understand him. His role was to destroy, yes, but to leave the path open for renewal, for something better.”

Lorgar studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You seem well-versed. Have you indexed this lore?”

Doflamingo pulled a worn notebook from his bag, filled with meticulous notes and references. “I figured you’d ask. I’ve spent years researching it.”

Lorgar glanced through the pages, impressed not only by the depth of Doflamingo's knowledge but by the sheer tenacity it represented. He knew then that training this young man would be both a challenge and a great responsibility. He sensed a deep-seated resentment that would take time to break but he could start small and chip at it

Lorgar studied Doflamingo’s intense expression for a moment before speaking again. “I understand why you’d choose Deathsaurus,” he said slowly. “A figure who clears the way for something new, feared and misunderstood. But consider Dynazenon. Another machine god from that era, but one who stood for heroics and construction, for building something better after the destruction. He wasn’t just about tearing things down—he was about lifting things up.”

Doflamingo’s eyes flickered, the fire in them softening just slightly as he considered the new name. “Dynazenon…” he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah… I like that.”

The day after naming the two of them went to the graduation and reaping ceremony. Lorgar noticed Dynazenon’s agitation at going. “Not a big fan of the ceremony,” he asked with a pleasant voice. Dynazenon who had been mindlessly scratching at his face turned to Lorgar.

“I hate the preening and the people. Their always so smug.” Lorgar laughed, “Then why Join the Codex Keepers? This is like a major portion of it.”

Dynazenon sighed before answering, “ Magnus the Red told me if I wanted to Change the world for the better I should join the Codex Keepers.”

Lorgar’s eyes widened at the mention of his brother. It would certainly explain Dynazenon’s temperament but wondered the depth of their connection.

“And what else do you know of my brother?” For the second time, Dynazenon looked surprised,

“You're Titus?” he asked intrigued. Lorgar smiled as he nodded remembering his youth as a warlord who helped establish the Codex Keepers.

“There's a name I haven't heard in a long time. Tell me how is my brother Mercutio?”

“He’s good. Tired though but his term as the ruler of Astaria is finally ending. So he’ll be able to rest I assume.”

Logar smiled, “if that’s true then I'll be able to return to my original post as Master of Records instead of Loremaster of Psionics which he was having me fill,”

Dynazenon stared surprised then said, “Well then I guess I better pass before then,”

Lorgar smiled, “Ah don't you worry young Dynazenon I fully intend to finish your training.,” Dynazenon felt at ease hearing that.

“Now go Enjoy the party you earned it.”

Dynazenon faltered, “But I don't like parties, especially with strangers."

Lorgar smiled and said to Dynazenon, "I know you'd rather go hunting or hang out with one to two close connections, but if you are to be the best Codex Keeper This is part of it Dynazenon. Or would the great Dynazenon remain hindered by his social anxiety?"

Dynazenon breathed and said, "Fine but don't get mad if I have to deal with fights." Dynazenon said absent-mindedly.

"Why would that be the case?"

"Because I am loud and I don't back down. It's upsetting to people and overrides their ability to hear me or tolerate me most of the time. In all honesty, I should shut up but it's like nails in my head when I see something wrong if that makes sense, so I just have to say something," Dynazenon explains. Which makes Lorgar wonder about his new pupil. He observes him using true sight and confirms his suspicion.

"Um, Dynazenon. Why are you using Truesight and Future Sight?"

Dynazenon looked at Lorgar confused as he had never heard of those before.

"What's that master?"

Lorgar looked at Dynazenon and realized that his apprentice was using Truesight and Future sight instinctively—something most other Codex Masters couldn't or refused to do. He took this in and realized that Training Dynazenon would be much harder than originally anticipated.

"I will tell you later," he said careful not to say any falsehoods to or around the young man. It did explain the physical agitation he often displayed around insincerity.

As Dynazenon walked beside Lorgar toward the grand hall, he could feel it—Lady Sunshine’s eyes on him, watching, assessing. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was something deeper, a guarded wariness that made his skin prickle. He wasn’t surprised. People like her always reacted to him this way, though they usually tried to hide it better. He hated it—the scrutiny, the unspoken judgments.

When Lady Sunshine finally spoke, her voice was light, but Dynazenon could sense the layers beneath it.

“Who is this young man?” she asked Lorgar, her words directed at him but her intent not quite reaching him.

He didn’t react outwardly, though his mind sharpened. She’s suspicious of me already. Of course, she was. People like her always were.

“Meet Doflamingo Gauma, or well, his codex keeper name Dynazenon. He is my new apprentice,” Lorgar said, his tone casual, almost too casual.

Dynazenon could feel the subtle tension between them—the slight flicker of something more than professionalism. He’d seen it before, the way Lorgar and Lady Sunshine exchanged those sidelong glances, their connection obvious to anyone paying attention.

They think they’re clever, but it’s clear as day. Dynazenon’s thoughts churned, irritation gnawing at him. Why bother hiding it? You’re fooling no one.

Lady Sunshine’s gaze lingered on him longer than he liked. Her eyes flickered with something as she studied him, and Dynazenon could feel her magic probing at the edges of his senses. It was like a soft brush against his skin, but the longer it went on, the more it agitated him. His pulse quickened, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral, even as something inside him coiled tighter, ready to snap.

Lady Sunshine stared at Doflamingo surprised then she noticed the unmistakable aura of magic surrounding him. She dipped into true sight and confirmed her suspicions his aura coiled and extended outside of him like a mighty dragon, but he didn't notice it, then she noticed that he was also using Psionics in tandem, but not consciously but as if his abilities were a part of him, and that part of him was very angry. quickly dismissing her true sight she turned to Lorgar,

"Um, He is certainly interesting." Lady Sunshine said very guarded. Lorgar nodded understanding the deeper meaning of her words, and said

"Yes He was rejected by Aragorn can you believe that?" Lorgar said very pointedly. Lady Sunshine understanding his double meaning said to her current apprentice Wonhee,

"Hey Wonhee can you and Dynazenon go into the grand hall Loremaster Lorgar and I need to talk. Wonhee nodded but her discomfort could be felt and Dynazenon felt it.

"it's fine I'll walk in myself. I'll see you soon master." Dynazenon said walking in solo. Lady Sunshine groaned and turned to her apprentice.

"Why did you spurn him you haven't even met him."

"Me what are you talking about? Ask your husband why he took the hydra of Hell."

Lorgar looked at Wonhee concerned, "The hydra of Hell," He asked

"Yes, the reclusive unstable trainee who was almost kicked out of the examination because he couldn't tone himself down and suggested genocide as the solution to the diplomacy test. Why would you accept him,"

Lorgar didn't like Wonhee's tone but addressed her concerns, "While I don't owe you an explanation, I will answer for Lady Sunshine who is also probably curious. My brother Magnus recommended him to the Codex Keepers and I think that he is too dangerous to be left outside of a position of power,"

"Why?" Wonhee pressed not understanding the value of having someone like him in the codex keepers.

"the child who is abandoned by the village will burn it to the ground to feel warmth," Lorgar said before Lady Sunshine excised her apprentice from the conversation. The couple walked into the grand hall finding a balcony to watch their apprentices.

Lorgar and Lady Sunshine stood side by side on the balcony, looking down at the milling crowd in the Grand Hall. The sounds of clinking glasses and light laughter floated up to them, but their conversation carried a different tone—one of quiet urgency.

Lady Sunshine folded her arms, her gaze fixed on Dynazenon, awkwardly navigating through the room. His discomfort was palpable from where they stood, though few would notice if they weren’t watching closely.

“I felt it,” she said, her voice low and troubled. “The anger. It’s more than just resentment from being rejected or an overinflated sense of justice. He sees all of the mess off the world as is and it gnaws at him. It drives him mad. His anger, It’s raw, deep-seated. His aura felt… Aggressive, almost predatory. Like a dragon just under the surface, waiting to be unleashed. It was this beautiful vibrant shade of purple but holds this darkness within”

Lorgar remained silent for a moment, watching Dynazenon pick up a glass of wine, only to set it back down without drinking. “I know,” he finally said, his voice thoughtful. “But he’s more than his anger, Sunshine. Much more.”

Lady Sunshine’s eyes narrowed. “Lorgar, it’s not just the anger. He’s using both magic and psionics as one. You saw it too, didn’t you? He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, which makes it even more dangerous. That kind of power in the hands of someone who’s barely aware of what they’re capable of—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “It’s not a question of if he’ll lose control, it’s when.”

Lorgar sighed, leaning against the stone railing. “People like Dynazenon don’t just disappear. If we left him out there, wandering, someone—something—would find him. He’s too resilient, too adaptable. We don’t have the luxury of ignoring him, especially after what I saw in his interview.”

Lady Sunshine raised an eyebrow. “His interview?”

Lorgar nodded, eyes still following Dynazenon as he made his way through the crowd, his movements stiff and calculated. “When he walked in, he was already moving on. He was rejected by Master Aragorn, completely disillusioned with the Codex Keepers—and yet, he wasn’t broken. He was already plotting his next move, thinking ahead. He was prepared to leave, to build something else. Someone that resilient, that adaptable, doesn’t just give up and fade into obscurity.”

Lady Sunshine’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And you think that’s a good thing? That kind of resilience, combined with the anger I felt from him, could lead him down a dark path, Lorgar. You know that as well as I do.”

Lorgar turned to face her, his expression serious but calm. “I do know that. But I also know that if we don’t guide him, someone else will. And that someone may not have our best interests—or the Codex Keepers’—at heart. Right now, his anger is directed inward, toward himself and the system he feels failed him. But he’s not malicious. He doesn’t seek destruction for destruction’s sake. He wants change.”

“Change,” Lady Sunshine repeated, her voice skeptical. “Change fueled by anger and resentment.”

“Change fueled by a desire for something better,” Lorgar corrected gently. “He didn’t come in seeking revenge or chaos. He came because he believed in something greater. Magnus saw that in him, and so do I. If we don't take his attempt at doing the right thing in earnest he will become the villain that lies beneath.”

Lady Sunshine’s gaze softened slightly, but her concern didn’t wane. “And what about his power? You saw it, Lorgar. His abilities are already beyond most Codex Masters, and he’s not even aware of what he’s doing. Magik and psionics work together, instinctively. That’s not just dangerous—it’s unheard of.”

Lorgar nodded. “Yes, I saw. And that’s precisely why he needs training. If we don’t help him harness that power, it could spiral out of control. But if we do… think of what he could achieve. He has the potential to reshape entire worlds, to make them better.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Lady Sunshine pressed. “What if the anger takes over? What if we can’t steer him?”

Lorgar was silent for a moment, weighing his words carefully. “I’ve spent years training the best and brightest, and I’ve seen both success and failure. Dynazenon is different, I won’t deny that. But people like him don’t vanish. They either rise to greatness or become something far worse. We have no choice but to ensure it’s the former.”

Lady Sunshine’s gaze softened, her concern still evident but tempered by a grudging understanding. “You’re putting a lot of faith in someone who doesn’t even know his own strength.”

Lorgar smiled faintly. “I am. But I’ve learned to trust my instincts. And Dynazenon… he may be rough around the edges, but he’s not lost. Not yet. He just needs someone to believe in him, someone to show him that there’s more to him than anger.”

Lady Sunshine’s eyes flickered back to Dynazenon, who was now standing alone near a wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his posture tense. “I hope you’re right,” she said quietly. “Because if you’re wrong, he could burn everything we’ve built to the ground, and everyone will blame you.”

Lorgar followed her gaze, his expression thoughtful. “If I’m right, he could be the one to save it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the young man below, each lost in their thoughts about the future—and the fragile balance of power that Dynazenon represented.

Dynazenon gently and discretely moved through the ceremony hoping no one would be looking for him. He meticulously avoided Aragorn, His chosen apprentice, and anyone who associated with him along with a couple of other trainees he had displeased during his testing. Eventually, he found a quiet corner to hide from prying eyes. until the Presentation ceremony began.

Dynazenon felt exposed without Master Lorgar by his side, as if he had been left in the middle of the battlefield without armor. He scanned the crowded hall, looking for familiar faces, but everyone seemed distant, absorbed in their own conversations. Feeling the anxiety rise in his chest, he turned to his usual coping mechanism—observation. He picked at his food, but his eyes remained sharp, studying the interactions around him.

He noticed Wonhee in the crowd, standing aloof and composed, but something about her made his teeth clench. The disgust in her eyes earlier, he thought bitterly. Like I was some sort of creature to be pitied or feared. Despite his anger, a strange protective instinct kicked in. He couldn’t explain why, but watching over her, even from a distance, felt like his duty. Like an older brother shielding a sibling he didn’t like but couldn’t abandon. He kept a close eye on her, but in the back of his mind, the sense of isolation gnawed at him.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a presence beside him—a gentle but inquisitive energy. A young woman, her aura peaceful but curious, had approached. He turned to face her, not recognizing her but sensing no threat. Her energy was open, disarming.

“Hello there, what’s your name?” she asked with a friendly smile. Dynazenon blinked in mild confusion. People didn’t usually approach him, at least not like this. She seemed genuine, unafraid.

“Apprentice Codex Keeper Dynazenon,” he responded, his voice steady but guarded. “And you are?”

“Ward Witch Dahyun. A pleasure to meet you,” she replied warmly, her smile deepening.

She seems… different, Dynazenon thought, eyeing her carefully. No judgment in her eyes, just curiosity. He relaxed slightly, the tightness in his chest easing.

“The pleasure is mine,” he added, offering a faint smile in return. Dahyun took a seat beside him, casually reaching over to steal a piece of food from his plate. Dynazenon raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. There was something about her—her confidence and ease—that made him feel less guarded. She wasn’t trying to probe or pry. She was just… there, and that felt strangely comforting.

“So, why are you avoiding everyone here?” Dahyun asked playfully, her tone light but genuinely curious.

Dynazenon let out a low chuckle, surprised by how natural the sound felt. Normally, he would have bristled at such a question, but with her, it didn’t feel like an intrusion.

“I’m not well-liked by my contemporaries,” he admitted, shrugging. “Or by Master Aragorn.”

Dahyun’s brow furrowed in confusion. How could anyone dislike him so quickly? she thought. He seemed quiet, reserved—hardly the type to stir up trouble. But there was something about him, something deeper. She could sense it. That underlying tension in his aura, the coiled energy just beneath the surface.

“Well, what if I like you?” Dahyun said defiantly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “You seem to be the only one here who isn’t causing a ruckus.”

Dynazenon chuckled again, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a small but genuine smile. She’s different from the others, he realized. Not trying to impress anyone, not trying to tear me down. Just… herself.

“This isn’t the type of scene that would rile me up,” he said with a wry grin, trying to mask the vulnerability behind his words. Dahyun tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh, and what kind of place would make you?”

“An arena,” Dynazenon replied without hesitation, surprising even himself with the ease of his answer.

Dahyun raised her eyebrows, intrigued even more. An athlete, she mused, noting the way he carried himself. He was built strong, steady, like a warrior, but there was a tension in him that suggested a readiness to explode at any moment. He’s not just reserved—there’s a fire in him. A controlled one, but it’s there.

“Oh, an athlete who’s also reserved. I like it,” she teased, plucking another piece of food from his plate.

Dynazenon watched her with mild amusement. She’s bold. Unafraid. And she doesn’t seem to care about whatever reputation I’ve built up. He was used to people either avoiding him or outright challenging him, but Dahyun was neither. She was just… present. It was a strange but welcome feeling.

He glanced at her, studying her expression. There was a genuine interest in her eyes, not the cold curiosity of someone trying to measure his worth, but rather the warmth of someone simply trying to understand. Maybe she’s different from the others, he thought, allowing himself to lower his guard just a bit more. Maybe she’s not looking for a fight, not judging me for who I’ve been labeled to be.

Dahyun, on her part, found herself growing more intrigued by Dynazenon. He’s like a puzzle, she thought, calm on the surface but there’s so much going on underneath. The way he moves, the way he talks—it’s like he’s always ready for something to go wrong, like he’s bracing himself for the next attack. But he doesn’t seem hostile. Just… watchful.

She could sense the quiet storm within him, the anger that simmered just beneath his calm exterior. But instead of being repelled by it, she found herself wanting to understand him more. He’s someone who’s been burned before, someone who doesn’t trust easily, she realized. But there’s more to him than just that anger. He’s watchful, yes, but also protective.

He looked at that girl earlier like he wanted to protect her, even though she clearly doesn’t like him. That says something. The two sat there, in an almost comfortable silence, sharing the plate of food without any need for more words. Despite the noise of the hall, the clamor of people around them, there was a strange sense of peace between them. It was rare for Dynazenon to feel this way, especially around strangers, but with Dahyun, there was no pressure to perform, no need to prove himself.

I could get used to this, Dynazenon thought as he glanced at her, feeling a small sense of relief. Maybe not everyone here is out to judge me. Maybe some people are just… like her. Maybe some people are worth letting in.

Dahyun smiled softly, sensing his quiet acceptance of her presence. He’s not as cold as he seems. Just careful. That’s okay. I can work with care, she thought, feeling the beginnings of a friendship in the making.

As they sat quietly Dynazenon heard a yelp for help. It was Wonhee’s voice at first he ignored it until he heard “I don't want this. go away!” much clearer. he turned away from Dahyun and said,

“I am sorry but my Bratty sister may be in trouble please excuse me while I go find her. As Dynazenon looks for Wonhee he sheds the timidness and hesitation its time for action. Dahyun watched Dynazenon with fascination from across the room. The apprentice Codex Keeper who had seemed awkward and unsure of himself was gone, replaced by someone entirely different. Where did this confidence come from? she wondered, her curiosity growing. He moved like a predator now, a lion on the hunt, and despite the danger, Dahyun found herself drawn to him. He’s not like the others. They put on masks and talk in circles, but he’s different. She remembered their earlier conversation—the way he had smiled at her, genuinely, without pretense. Even now, he’s thinking of someone else, Dahyun realized. His focus wasn’t on making a spectacle or proving himself; it was on protecting the girl. There’s something noble in that, she thought. But when she saw the surge of purple energy around him, a knot of worry tightened in her chest. That power—does he even know what he’s doing? She felt a strange sense of both awe and concern for Dynazenon. He was unlike anyone she had met before, and despite the uncertainty swirling around him, Dahyun couldn’t help but think, Maybe I was right to approach him. There’s something more to him, something worth seeing through.

He walks through the crowd ambivalent to the stares he received. As Dynazenon moved through the crowd, responding to Wonhee’s cry, Lorgar observed his apprentice with a mixture of pride and apprehension. He moves decisively now. No hesitation, no second-guessing, Lorgar thought, watching Dynazenon shed the timidness that had plagued him earlier. But will he control his power, or will his emotions overwhelm him again? Lorgar had seen this before—an apprentice at the cusp of greatness, yet held back by inner conflict. The purple energy swirling around Dynazenon gave him pause. He’s tapping into his psionics and magic without realizing it. If he doesn’t master this soon, it could consume him. Despite his concerns, Lorgar couldn’t deny that there was raw potential in his apprentice, but potential was a double-edged sword. Magnus saw something in him, but I wonder if even my brother understands the fire he’s lit.

As he was searching he bumped into the codex keeper Son. Dynazenon apologized for spilling his drink as he kept searching for Wonhee. Son was surprised to see Doflamingo at this ceremony and said “Wait a minute there cowboy. Whats got you in a hurry?” “I was asked by Lady Sunshine to watch her apprentice, and I have lost track of her.”

Hearing the ward witch’s name caused Son to immediately back off. He wanted no part of the lady who had melted a dude’s spine with just her magic. So Dynazenon was able to continue his search. Lady Sunshine, standing next to Lorgar, noticed the subtle shift in Dynazenon’s demeanor, and it worried her. There’s that anger again, simmering just beneath the surface. She had seen it earlier when she used True Sight on him, a coiling fury masked by a facade of restraint. It’s only a matter of time before it boils over.

What then? As she watched him push past Codex Keeper Son without a second thought, Lady Sunshine’s thoughts turned to her own apprentice, Wonhee. He feels responsible for her, even if he calls her a brat. But can he protect her without losing control? Sunshine could feel Dynazenon’s power expanding, raw and untempered, as he moved with purpose. He’s strong, but unstable. Is it enough to trust that he’ll grow into this power, or are we letting a dragon loose in a world unprepared for it? Her concern for Dynazenon was mixed with admiration—there was something undeniably captivating about his defiance, even in the face of danger. He reminds me of Orion. Full of rage and strength but always teetering on the edge. One wrong step and…

Eventually, he found her…alone with Valence. Wonhee appeared in distress. He calmly put a shoulder on Valence telling him to leave her alone. Valence undeterred used his psionics and pushed the apprentice aside Dynzenon crashed through the door as the energy flung him outside into a crowd of onlookers including Aragorn. Dynazenon had to make a choice.

He could ignore the situation and let Wonhee fend for herself. Or he could fight.

“You would abandon your charge to live easier.” something inside him challenged

“You know Valence only responds to force and you have were given the power to protect those like Wonhee from people like him.” the voice inside of Dynazenon added. Dynazenon hesitated until then voice said “If you don't stop Valence here you are no better than everyone else who gives into him and enables him. You are no hero just a coward.” the voice growls inside of him.

As Dynazenon confronted Valence and found himself flung across the room, Lorgar and Lady Sunshine both felt a spike of tension. Lorgar’s fists tightened at his sides. He’s lost control again. Why can’t he just rein it in? Yet as he saw his apprentice surrounded by Codex Masters with their swords pointed at his throat, Lorgar felt a flicker of understanding. He’s protecting someone. He’s angry, yes, but that anger comes from somewhere deeper—a need to shield others from harm. Lorgar’s initial anger began to fade, replaced by a begrudging respect. Maybe he’s not so different from how I was at his age.

Lorgar and Lady Sunshine hear the growl from Dynazenon and watch as streaks of Purple energy swirl and arc around him as he races across the hall. The hear a light commotion as they race to him having seen most of everything. By the time they reach him Dynazenon is surrounded by 5 Codex masters swords pointed at his throat and a pummeled Valence on the ground with a crying Wonhee.

Lady Sunshine, however, remained on edge. This is exactly what I was afraid of. He can’t just fight his way through every problem. Seeing the bruised and crying Wonhee only amplified her concerns. But he did what he thought was right. He acted when no one else did. Sunshine glanced at Lorgar, hoping he understood the gravity of the situation. If we don’t teach him to channel this power, this anger… it’s only a matter of time before it consumes him, or worse, destroys him. Lorgar looked upon his pupil angrily.

“What did I tell you?” he demanded

Dynazenon still caught in his fury and fervor responded in equal measure, “I can't remember I was too busy watching over this brat.” he yelled gesturing to Wonhee.

Lorgar took a moment and pieced the scene together as did Lady Sunshine. They calmed down and asked Dynazenon what happened. From her vantage point, Dahyun saw the full display of Dynazenon’s power—and his vulnerability. She watched as he fought, not just against Valence, but against the expectations, the judgment of those around him, and perhaps, most of all, his own self-doubt.

He didn’t care that the entire room was watching. He acted. And as the scene unfolded, she found herself more intrigued than ever by Dynazenon. I knew there was more to him than he let on. He’s not just powerful—he’s dangerous in a way that excites me. Despite her concern, Dahyun couldn’t help but smile faintly. I think I’ll stick around and see what happens next.

This expanded scene provides more depth to the internal thoughts of Lorgar, Lady Sunshine, and Dahyun as they observe Dynazenon’s actions, highlighting their differing perspectives—Lorgar’s cautious respect, Sunshine’s concern mixed with admiration, and Dahyun’s growing fascination with Dynazenon’s unique combination of power and vulnerability.

The next day Dynazenon sat uncomfortably in front of internal affairs. He sat in terrified silence as he awaited his turn. In the office Wonhee sat retelling her side of the story

Aragorn sat behind his desk, his gaze piercing as he observed the young apprentice before him. The room was dimly lit, the stone walls of the Codex Keepers’ headquarters giving the space an air of quiet authority. His fingers steepled under his chin, Aragorn’s eyes rested on Wonhee, who sat opposite him. She looked nervous, but there was a steely determination beneath her surface.

“Wonhee,” Aragorn began, his voice deep and measured. “I need you to explain to me, in your own words, what happened during the incident with Valence and Dynazenon.”

Wonhee shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure of how much to reveal. She had been dreading this conversation, knowing that Valence was Aragorn’s prized apprentice. But she also knew she couldn’t lie about what had happened. Taking a deep breath, she began, her voice steady but low.

“Throughout the night, I was trying to avoid Dynazenon,” she admitted, her eyes flicking up to meet Aragorn’s. “Lady Sunshine had asked him to keep an eye on me, and… I didn’t like that. It felt stifling. I know Dynazenon meant well, but I didn’t want to be constantly watched.” Aragorn listened carefully, his expression unreadable. So this wasn’t Dynazenon failing his task by negligence, he thought. She was deliberately trying to escape him.

“I tried to find spaces where he wasn’t watching me,” Wonhee continued, “places where I could just… breathe. Eventually, I came across a room at the back of the hall where Valence was.”

At the mention of his apprentice, Aragorn’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing. He gestured for her to continue, his face a stoic mask.

“At first, I didn’t think anything of it,” Wonhee said, her voice faltering slightly. “Valence is one of the senior apprentices, and I figured it would be safe to be around him. But… he wasn’t acting the way I expected.” She hesitated, clearly reluctant to speak ill of someone under Aragorn’s tutelage. Aragorn remained still, his mind racing as he observed the unease in her body language. Valence… what did you do?

“Go on,” Aragorn said quietly, his tone encouraging but firm. Wonhee swallowed hard, then spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “He… made a move on me. I told him I didn’t want it, and I tried to fight him off, but he wouldn’t stop. I kept telling him to leave me alone, but he wasn’t listening.”

Her hands clenched in her lap, her eyes clouded with the memory of fear. Aragorn’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t react outwardly. Valence had been one of my most promising students, he thought. Why didn’t I see this?

“I was trying to push him away when Dynazenon came in,” Wonhee said, her voice growing stronger. “He didn’t hesitate for a second. He told Valence to leave me alone, but Valence… he didn’t back down. He used his psionics to throw Dynazenon across the room.”

Aragorn’s brow furrowed. The fact that Valence had resorted to violence against a fellow apprentice was shocking enough, but the deeper implications were unsettling. What has Valence been hiding from me? “But Dynazenon… he didn’t stop,” Wonhee continued. “Even after being thrown across the room, he got up and came back. I could feel his anger, but it wasn’t just rage. It was like… he was protecting me, like he was doing what he thought was right.”

Wonhee paused, looking down at her hands. “I’ve never seen anything like it. He was furious, but his anger wasn’t reckless. He pummeled Valence to the ground, but I don’t think he would’ve killed him. He was… controlled, even though it didn’t seem that way.”

Aragorn sat back in his chair, his mind whirling. Controlled rage, he thought. That’s not something I would have associated with Dynazenon before. I had heard the rumors—his instability, his unorthodox methods—but this…

The silence in the room thickened as Aragorn processed her words. He had always viewed Dynazenon with suspicion, especially after hearing of his volatile nature and his tendency to challenge authority. But what Wonhee was describing was different. It wasn’t a display of raw power for its own sake—it was the actions of someone protecting another, someone who couldn’t stand by and watch an injustice unfold.

“Do you believe,” Aragorn asked after a long pause, “that Dynazenon acted out of duty? Or was it something else?”

Wonhee met Aragorn’s gaze and nodded. “I think he acted because he felt responsible for me. He was watching over me all night, even when I didn’t want him to. And when he heard me in trouble, he didn’t hesitate.” Aragorn leaned forward, his hands resting on the desk. “And Valence… how did he respond?”

Wonhee’s face darkened. “Valence didn’t care. He only backed down when Dynazenon forced him to. If it hadn’t been for Dynazenon, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Aragorn nodded slowly, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He had trusted Valence with so much, and now that trust had been shattered. But what troubled him more was the fact that he had misjudged Dynazenon so completely.

For so long, Aragorn had viewed Dynazenon as a potential threat—a wild card who might disrupt the order of the Codex Keepers. But now, seeing him through Wonhee’s eyes, he realized there was far more to the apprentice than he had initially believed. Dynazenon wasn’t just a reckless force; he was driven by something deeper, something Aragorn hadn’t fully appreciated before.

“Thank you, Wonhee,” Aragorn said quietly, his voice softer than before. “You’ve given me much to think about.” Wonhee nodded and rose to leave. But before she exited the room, Aragorn called her back.

“One last thing,” he said, his voice laced with a newfound respect. “What do you think of Dynazenon now?”

Wonhee hesitated, then answered firmly. “He saved me. I don’t know him well, but I know this—he’s someone I’d want watching my back.” Aragorn nodded, watching her leave. He sat alone in his office, the weight of the night’s events pressing down on him. Dynazenon… perhaps I was wrong about you. The image of Dynazenon standing over Valence, surrounded by Codex Masters with swords at his throat, flashed in his mind.

For the first time, Aragorn began to see the apprentice not as a loose cannon, but as someone who might just be necessary for the future of the Codex Keepers. Someone capable of protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves.

He’s dangerous, Aragorn thought, but perhaps that’s exactly what we need.

After dismissing the ward witch, Aragorn brought in Dynazenon. He activated his true sight at its highest capacity, carefully observing the young man as he entered. Dynazenon walked in, nervous but resolute, and Aragorn immediately noted how much calmer his aura was compared to their previous encounters. It surprised him when the first words out of Dynazenon’s mouth were an apology.

“I’m sorry for ruining the night,” Dynazenon said earnestly.

Aragorn waved it off. “Your apology, while appreciated, isn’t necessary.

I’ve spoken with Codex Keeper Son, Ward Witch Wonhee, and Dahyun. Their accounts of your actions were surprisingly noble. You won’t be punished or admonished for what happened with my apprentice, but I do have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

Dynazenon nodded silently, bracing himself for the interrogation. “The first question is simple,” Aragorn began, “why did you attack my pupil?”

Dynazenon let out a sigh, considering his words. “While I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, your pupil was suspiciously close to Wonhee, and she was crying. I could have taken more time to assess the situation, but… with Wonhee being underage, I couldn’t take the risk.”

Aragorn nodded at this explanation. Dynazenon’s words were honest, but Aragorn could sense he was still holding something back. “How did you know Wonhee isn’t of age?” Aragorn pressed. “Her cultural markings aren’t complete,” Dynazenon answered without hesitation. “The small crescents on her cheeks would be full lunar marks if she were fully of age.”

Again, a truthful answer—but Aragorn felt something deeper being concealed. He studied Dynazenon’s calm yet guarded demeanor. There was something else, a hidden part of this young man that Dynazenon was not revealing.

“You’re hiding something,” Aragorn stated, his voice steady but probing. “Something important. I can’t help you unless you’re honest with me.” Dynazenon hesitated for a long moment before answering. “There’s a part of me that isn’t normal. It pushes me to act, especially when others hesitate. You saw a glimpse of it last night—that purple energy.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened slightly. “That wasn’t psionics or magic?” Dynazenon shook his head. “I can’t do either, but this part of me can mimic their effects.”

At first, controlling this force proved difficult for Dynazenon. It was insatiable, relentless in its desire to grow and overpower everything else. As Dynazenon spoke, small arcs of purple energy began to dance around him, filling the room with a subtle but palpable charge. Aragorn, ever the scholar, watched intently as the energy flowed, listening to its hum. “Never be afraid. Never cower. Protect. Fight. Win,” Aragorn heard in Dynazenon’s voice, but the words came from the energy itself. However, in the darker swirls of the power, Aragorn heard something else. “Purge weakness. Fell the tyrant. Crush evil.”

Aragorn turned his gaze toward Dynazenon, who seemed unaware of the dual nature of his power, merely guiding it without fully understanding its origins. This was not ordinary aura manipulation or psionics; this was something ancient and dangerous. Aragorn marveled at the potential, but also sensed the deep risks associated with it. “Withdraw your power,” Aragorn commanded gently.

Dynazenon obeyed, and the energy swiftly retreated back into him. Aragorn watched as the young man calmed, the air still buzzing faintly with the residual power.

“You’re an unsettling individual,” Aragorn said thoughtfully. “But unsettling might be exactly what we need right now. I foresee a rift forming within the Codex Keepers. Many of them view their position as nothing more than a status symbol, a stepping stone to greater influence. While the role may grant that, it was never meant to be glorified in such a way.” Aragorn paused, reflecting on the implications of what he was about to offer. “It may be too late for my own apprentice, but not for you. Come to this office on your off days, and I will help you master both your power and your soul. They seem to be intrinsically tied.”

Dynazenon was taken aback. “Oh, um… okay, sir.”

“Please, enough with the formalities,” Aragorn rebuked gently. “Aragorn is fine.”

Dynazenon nodded, still processing the unexpected offer as he left the office. Aragorn sat back, contemplating the conversation and what it meant for the future of the Codex Keepers. Meanwhile, outside the office…

Valence had been listening from the shadows, his face twisted in barely contained rage. His master—his master—had just praised that nobody, that whelp, Dynazenon, as if he were some rising star. Noble? Heroic? Valence’s fists clenched as his pulse quickened, his thoughts racing. Since when does Aragorn praise someone like that?

Valence’s pride, already bruised from his earlier confrontation with Dynazenon, now boiled over into a seething resentment. He had been Aragorn’s chosen apprentice for years, mastering manipulation, subtlety, and psionics, yet Aragorn had never spoken of him in the same glowing terms he used for Dynazenon. It stung. Deeply.

I’ve proven myself time and again, and for what? To be cast aside for a novice? he thought bitterly.

The praise Dynazenon received felt like a slap in the face. Valence had always been careful to maintain an air of composure, but he could feel that facade slipping. He needed to do something. His grip tightened as he replayed the conversation in his head. Then, a dark thought came to him—a memory.

Charlemagne, the newly appointed Loremaster of Diplomacy, had recently approached him. Charlemagne had whispered of opportunities, of a mentorship that focused on expanding political power rather than psionic mastery. Charlemagne’s offer had seemed redundant at the time, given Aragorn’s already formidable guidance. But now… Valence felt a sudden surge of temptation.

Why continue to chase after Aragorn’s approval when Charlemagne has already seen my potential? Valence thought, his anger slowly morphing into cold calculation. Charlemagne’s offer had been enticing, the chance to learn how to influence and manipulate the political landscape, to be a true master of the Codex Keepers’ hidden power structures. He could feel the pull. Where Aragorn seemed to drift toward idealism, Charlemagne embodied ruthless ambition. Valence’s lip curled as he considered his options.

If Aragorn wants Dynazenon, he can have him. But when the time comes, I’ll be the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, not some glorified apprentice.

Valence straightened up, his decision made. He would meet with Charlemagne. Let Dynazenon bask in Aragorn’s favor for now. It wouldn’t last forever.

Absolutely! Here’s the expanded scene detailing Dynazenon’s training regimen under Lorgar and Aragorn, highlighting the different but equally taxing challenges he faces:

The first week of training under both Lorgar and Aragorn was grueling for Dynazenon. From the moment the sun broke the horizon, it felt like he was thrown into a tempest of knowledge and physical demands. Each day began with Lorgar, the stern but wise master of combat and strategy. The mornings were cold and quiet, the only sound the rustling of leaves as Dynazenon arrived at the training grounds. Lorgar stood there, a towering figure clad in battle-worn armor, his eyes sharp and assessing. “Today, we focus on the mind and body,” he announced, a glint of determination in his voice.

Dynazenon would spend hours honing his combat techniques, practicing his footwork and stances against Lorgar’s relentless onslaught. Each strike felt like it held a lesson; each dodge tested his reflexes. “You must learn to predict your opponent’s moves,” Lorgar instructed, his voice a low growl. “Combat is not just physical; it’s a mental game.” After sparring, the training shifted to psionic exercises, where Lorgar pushed Dynazenon to connect with his energy, to visualize the flow of power within him. “Feel it,” Lorgar urged, “and direct it. Your emotions can become your greatest weapon, but they can also be your downfall. Control is essential.”

Dynazenon often found himself drained, both physically and mentally, as he grappled with the challenges of combat and the complexities of harnessing his abilities. Lorgar was relentless, demanding not only skill but also a deeper understanding of the art of war. As the afternoon sun reached its zenith, Dynazenon shifted gears to study under Aragorn. Here, the focus was entirely different. The air was thick with the smell of parchment and ink, and the sound of quills scratching against paper filled the room. “Knowledge is power,” Aragorn would declare, his tone both firm and encouraging. “Understanding the cultures you will interact with is paramount. Respect and knowledge go hand in hand.”

The hours spent in the library felt endless as Dynazenon immersed himself in various cultural practices, rites, and rituals. He learned the importance of customs, how to navigate complex social landscapes without causing offense. Each text was filled with the intricacies of different societies, their histories woven together like a tapestry. Next came penmanship and transcription lessons. Dynazenon struggled with his handwriting, the letters sometimes slanting awkwardly on the page. “Clarity and precision are crucial,” Aragorn reminded him, patiently guiding his hand as they worked through the intricacies of transcription. “You are not just writing; you are preserving knowledge. Treat it with the respect it deserves.”

Evenings were reserved for training with Lady Sunshine and Wonhee. Here, the atmosphere shifted again; the lessons were filled with creativity and emotional depth. Lady Sunshine taught him about the art of healing, using magic to mend not just the physical but also the emotional wounds of others. “Empathy is a healer’s greatest asset,” she would say, her voice soothing yet firm.

Wonhee, eager to learn alongside him, encouraged Dynazenon’s creativity. They practiced spells together, trying to shape their energies into tangible forms. “Focus your intent,” she advised, her own aura glowing brightly as she demonstrated. The exercises were not only exhausting but also mentally taxing, pushing Dynazenon to connect with his emotions on a deeper level.

And then there were his off hours, where Dynazenon would seek out Aragorn, his interest in the esoteric abilities pulling him into a different realm of training. Aragorn’s lessons were enigmatic, often filled with riddles and ancient philosophies that challenged Dynazenon’s understanding of power and purpose. “The true nature of your abilities lies beyond the surface,” Aragorn would say, his voice a melodic whisper. They would delve into the arcane, exploring concepts that felt both exhilarating and overwhelming. Each session left Dynazenon feeling as though he were standing on the edge of a great abyss, the potential of his powers both thrilling and terrifying.

By the end of the week, Dynazenon was a walking testament to exhaustion. His body ached from the physical training, his mind buzzed with the weight of all he had learned, and his spirit felt stretched thin as he grappled with the demands of his multifaceted training. Each master presented their lessons in unique ways, but they were united in their expectations of him. The knowledge and skills he was acquiring were like building blocks, each day adding more weight and complexity to his growing foundation. As he collapsed into bed each night, he felt the weight of a world opening before him—a world filled with potential, danger, and the promise of becoming something greater than himself. The three masters convened in the Lorgar’s Office, the air thick with the weight of their discussions. Lorgar leaned against the table, arms crossed tightly, his expression taut with concern. Lady Sunshine sat with an air of calm, her fingers gently tracing the rim of her cup. Aragorn paced thoughtfully, the light from the tall windows casting long shadows across the floor.

“Dynazenon’s progress has been nothing short of remarkable,” Lady Sunshine began, her voice warm with admiration. “He’s adapting to the teachings and has shown incredible skill in combat and the arcane arts. It’s as if he’s a natural.”

“Natural or not,” Lorgar interjected, his voice edged with frustration, “I can’t shake this feeling of worry. He hasn’t manifested any psionic or magical runes yet. Despite his potential, without those foundational skills, how far can he truly go?”

Aragorn stopped his pacing and turned to Lorgar, an understanding look in his eyes. “You’re right to be concerned, but let’s not overlook what he has achieved. He’s shown the ability to learn quickly, but his psionic and magical runes haven’t appeared yet. That doesn’t mean he won’t be able to manifest them in time.”

Lorgar shook his head. “It’s not just a matter of time. It’s about understanding the core of what he is. My psionic mastery runes took years to develop, and they serve as a foundation for my skills. Without his runes, Dynazenon could falter when faced with true adversity. His growth is impressive, but it feels incomplete.”

“He’s been pushing himself nonstop for eight months,” Lady Sunshine added thoughtfully, her brow slightly furrowed. “Most apprentices hit a wall at eight weeks, at which point we usually give them their first break. Dynazenon? He hasn’t stopped once. Not even to catch his breath.” Aragorn nodded, his expression one of slight disbelief. “That’s the truly shocking part. The fact that he’s just now showing signs of exhaustion is… unprecedented. His stamina—physical, mental, and spiritual—is beyond anything I’ve seen. Eight months without pause, and he only now seems to be feeling the weight of it?”

Lorgar looked between the two, the concern in his eyes deepening. “It worries me. Not because of his dedication, but because he hasn’t hit that limit sooner. Most apprentices need that wall to humble them, to teach them the value of recovery and reflection. It’s during those moments of exhaustion that they grow the most—where they learn their limits and build their foundation. What if he’s avoiding that crucial stage by sheer force of will?”

“Or perhaps,” Aragorn suggested, “his limits are simply different. His capacity for pushing himself might be far beyond what we’re used to seeing.”

Lady Sunshine nodded slowly. “True, but even so, it’s concerning. If he doesn’t learn to recognize his own limits, he risks burning out in far more destructive ways. We’ve never seen an apprentice push for this long without proper rest. And now, after eight months, if he’s finally starting to hit that wall, what kind of toll has it already taken on him?” “Exactly,” Lorgar agreed. “His physical training, the cultural lessons, the constant practice—he’s been relentless. But without the manifestation of his psionic or magical runes, I can’t help but feel he’s overcompensating. It’s as if he’s trying to break through by sheer force, instead of letting the process happen naturally.”

Aragorn stopped pacing and looked directly at Lorgar. “You’re not wrong to be worried. But I think there’s something more going on. Dynazenon is tapping into a power that transcends the normal. While he hasn’t yet unlocked the traditional runes of psionics or magic, he’s harnessing something deeper. His soul is channeling energy in ways we haven’t fully understood.”

Lady Sunshine leaned forward, intrigued. “What do you mean? Are you suggesting he’s accessing a different kind of power?” “Yes,” Aragorn confirmed, nodding thoughtfully. “He’s channeling what I’ve tentatively named ‘Palladics.’ This energy comes from his soul rather than the heart or the mind. It’s ancient and primal, enabling him to achieve feats that even seasoned masters struggle with.” “But if he’s focusing solely on this Palladics power,” Lorgar pressed, “what does that mean for his potential in psionics or magic? If his runes don’t manifest, he risks being unable to handle situations that require those specific skills.”

“Indeed,” Aragorn agreed. “And it’s crucial that he learns to balance this newfound power with the traditional arts. We must guide him to explore his psionic abilities while still nurturing his talents in magic.” Lady Sunshine spoke softly but with conviction. “Lorgar, you have to remember that Dynazenon’s journey is uniquely his own. Just because he hasn’t manifested his runes yet doesn’t diminish his promise. Instead of comparing him to your own path, consider how you can support him.” Lorgar took a deep breath, rubbing his temples as he processed their words. “I just fear he may become reliant on this Palladics power and neglect the foundational skills he needs to survive in the world. He may need psionic abilities to navigate the political landscape or combat situations that require more than raw power.”

“Then we must be vigilant,” Aragorn asserted. “It’s our responsibility to ensure he doesn’t overlook those vital skills. Encourage him to train in psionics and magic alongside his unique abilities. We can help him forge a path that incorporates all aspects of his potential.”

The next morning Dynozenon woke up and all of his accumulated fatigue Finally hit him. He sighed and forced himself up. When he wanted nothing more to go back to bed and back to his dream about Dahyun. He remembered she should be coming back today after completing an expedition so he'd have to sneak her in. As he went through his morning routine however he just decided that he was done not taking care of himself and earned the break. so he went to his master and said, "I am sorry boss but I need some semblance of time off. So I am taking it now and will be off for the next month. I am fried, burnt out, and fraying at the edges."

Lorgar smiled and said, "I am surprised it took you this long. Most apprentices hit this point at 8 weeks, and you're doing three times the work. Enjoy your time off." Doflamingo nodded and went out for the day to wait for Dahyun at the port she was supposed to come into. Doflamingo arrived at Dahyun’s predicted port of landing where he waited Doflamingo stood at the edge of the bustling spaceport, his arms crossed, scanning the crowd for any sign of Dahyun. The hum of transport shuttles, the clatter of footsteps, and the murmur of travelers swirled around him, but his mind was elsewhere—sifting through the whirlwind of the past year.

Eight months of training, he thought. He had thrown himself into everything—cultural studies, combat, the relentless lessons with Lorgar and Aragorn. The weight of those hours spent poring over ancient rites, the burn in his muscles from endless combat sessions, and the heavy silence in the moments when his psionic runes still refused to manifest. And yet, in all of it, there was a deep sense of purpose. He had come so far, but why did he still feel… incomplete?

He glanced at the chronometer ticking down, noting how much time had passed since his first meeting with Dahyun. She had come into his life unexpectedly, and somehow, the quiet moments he shared with her had become the still points in the chaos. Her energy balanced his own in ways that he couldn’t have anticipated. And yet, he wondered how she saw him now. Did she understand the battles he fought—the one against Valence, the struggle within himself to master powers that didn’t fit into any category? He sighed.

The past year had also brought some revelations that he wasn’t sure how to process. The talk with Aragorn about his soul’s power still rattled in his mind. Palladics. A power tied not to the heart or mind, but to the core of his very being—his soul. He didn’t even fully understand what it meant, only that it felt more natural than magic or psionics, and yet somehow more dangerous. It was a part of him, ancient and fierce, a force that whispered of both creation and destruction. No wonder it unnerved even the Codex Keepers.

He thought of the conversations with Lorgar and Lady Sunshine, their concerns over his progress, the discussions about how he’d hit the wall only now—months after most apprentices had. He’d been pushing himself harder than anyone, and now, finally, it was starting to catch up to him. His body ached in ways that weren’t purely physical. His soul—his power—was demanding more, straining against the limits of his mortal frame. And yet, here he was, waiting at a spaceport, feeling as though all that progress had yet to manifest in the ways he wanted. Was he cursed was he doomed by fate?

Through it all, though, Dahyun had been a constant presence. He thought of their first meeting, her teasing confidence as she stole food from his plate. The ease with which they had slipped into a rhythm, unspoken, effortless. He didn’t feel like he had to prove anything to her; she just saw him, and in a way that didn’t demand answers or power. That was something no training could provide.

The doors of the spaceport hissed open, and a familiar figure stepped through. Dahyun, looking as calm and composed as ever, though her eyes sparkled with that same curiosity that had intrigued him from the beginning.

Doflamingo’s heart beat a little faster, but he kept his expression neutral, only allowing a small smile to break through. It’s been a year, he thought, and somehow, I still don’t know where this path is leading me. Dahyun spotted him and waved, her pace quickening slightly as she weaved through the crowd. As she approached, he straightened, taking in the reality of the moment. For all the uncertainty, for all the questions swirling in his head, one thing remained clear: he wasn’t walking this path alone.

Dahyun smiled as she approached Doflamingo. “You look tired,” she teased. Doflamingo nodded and said, “I am” Dahyun laughed and said, “Well you chose this life,” Doflamingo nodded as he walked with Dahyun.

“So I take it you are off for the time being?” she asked and Doflamingo nodded.

“Yeah for now. What about you?”

Dahyun nodded as she took Dracual’s arm in hers. She leans in closer to him and asks“ How's the training been?”

“It's been tiring but I feel good about the work I am doing.” Dahyun smiled then said, “I heard Valence graduated earlier. How do you feel about it?”

Doflamingo smiled at Dahyun and said, “I am unsure but nothing I think really matters in this regard, but right now I'm not Dynazenon. I am Doflamingo and I'm here for my friend Dahyun.” Dahyun smiled at Doflamingo’s simplicity.

“Well, then it's a good thing I'm off too.” The couple arrives at Dahyun’s home a little later. Following their arrival at Dahyun’s home, Doflamingo can feel the weight of his exhaustion begin to ease in the comfort of her space. They settle in, slipping into an easy rhythm as they prepare tea and sit by the window, looking out at the quiet, star-strewn night beyond.

As they talk, Dahyun senses something unspoken in him, a tension that the recent months of relentless training haven’t erased. She gently nudges him to open up, and gradually, he shares his uncertainties: about his progress, his stalled psionic abilities, and the recent revelation from Aragorn about his “Palladics”—a power he barely understands. Dahyun listens with a quiet intensity, absorbing his worries without judgment. She notices he hesitates a bit when talking about everything but she chalks it up to nerves. She reassures him that he doesn’t have to figure everything out all at once. She reminds him of the growth he’s achieved and the lives he’s impacted—especially hers. “Sometimes,” she says, “strength isn’t about conquering powers or mastering abilities. Sometimes it’s about allowing yourself to just be.”

Doflamingo nodded as Dahyun leaned into him. That was until he heard the chime of the emergency service alert. Dahyun watches as Doflamingo’s countenance drastically changes with a sad knowingness. He gets up and Silently says to himself,

“So it begins,” he turns to Dahyun and says,

“Hey, so I am going to be gone for a while. If in the slim statistical chance, we don't see each other again. I have liked you for some time and after I am back I'd love to go out with you on a date.” Dahyun chuckled and then said,

"What if I want you right here right now?" she asked seductively.

Doflamingo hesitated until Dahyun got up and brought him in for a kiss. she held his face as she brought him in closer. she drank in his vulnerabiltiy and shock as his brain short circuited at her actions.

"You have no idea how long I have waited to do that,"

Doflamingo blinked as he felt an unfamiliar heat swell within his body, before kissing Dahyun back. She melted into his touch as she happily let his tongue invade her mouth. Spit and moans swapped between their mouths as new sensations drove them to new expressions of intimacy. Sadly, this couldn't last as Dahyun got another call. Doflamingo sighed before getting up and leaving.

"See you around," he said sadly.

The next day, Chowon walked through the busy hangar bay, her face glowing with excitement at the call she’d received for the peace expedition to Theros. Just as she turned the corner, she collided with a large figure, solid and unmoving. She looked up, taking in the man’s towering height, his mechanized helmet obscuring his face and an ethereal, faintly shimmering cape draped over his broad shoulders.

“Oh! Sorry for running into you,” she said, tilting her head up with a cheerful smile. Her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity and friendliness as she gazed at him, her optimism shining through.

The man hesitated, momentarily taken aback by the warmth radiating from her. He’d grown used to people reacting to him with caution or fear, but her openness seemed to reach him, cracking the armor around his heart just a little.

“No, ma’am, the apology should be from me. I wasn’t paying attention and bumped into you,” he responded, his voice deep and modulated by the mechanized system in his helmet, hiding the softer tone beneath.

Chowon smiled wider. “Well, let’s both share the blame, since I wasn’t looking either.” She extended a hand, a gesture so simple yet sincere. “I’m Chowon. What’s your name?”

For a moment, he was silent. No one had asked him his name with such genuine interest in… well, he couldn’t remember how long. “My name is… Dyna,” he finally replied.

Chowon’s face lit up, her joy pure and unguarded. “Well, Dyna, can we be friends?”

The words struck him. Friends? He glanced down at her outstretched hand and hesitantly reached out, clasping her hand in his. Her grip was small but strong, and as he shook her hand, he felt something strange and unexpected—warmth. Despite the cold fury he knew simmered within him, the touch of her hand somehow made him feel safe, as if a spark of kindness had seeped through his armor, however briefly.

The two began walking together, Chowon’s step light and confident. As they moved through the hangar, she looked up at him. “So, Dyna, where are you headed?”

“I’m part of the peace negotiation team for Theros,” he said, his voice carrying a note of quiet strength.

“Oh, really? Me too!” Chowon beamed. “Wouldn’t it be something if we were neighbors on board?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, hidden behind the helmet. Falling into the warmth of her presence, he nodded, “I hope so.”

As they reached her luggage, Chowon stumbled slightly under the weight of one of her bags. Before she could adjust it, Dyna reached down and gently took her bags. “Allow me,” he said, easily lifting them with one hand.

Chowon’s eyes widened, a hint of admiration flashing in them. “Thank you, Dyna! You know, you’re not only strong, but very considerate too.”

Her words, so earnest and unguarded, caused something in him to soften. He’d faced down warriors, stared down foes on the battlefield, and withstood countless harsh words in his lifetime, but this small act of kindness—a simple ‘thank you’ from someone who truly meant it—touched him deeply.

They walked side by side to the embarkation zone, her easy chatter filling the silence. “Have you been on peace expeditions before?” she asked, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity.

“Not quite like this one,” he admitted. “It’s… a different experience.”

“Well,” she said, her voice cheerful yet gentle, “if this is your first peace mission, maybe it’s a sign of good things to come. Peace can be hard, but it’s also worth it, don’t you think?”

Dyna didn’t answer immediately. Her innocent confidence felt strange yet oddly comforting to him. He’d fought so many battles, and believed in power as the only solution, and yet this young, unguarded person spoke of peace like it was a strength in itself.

“Yes,” he said finally, almost to himself. “Maybe it is.”

As they boarded, Chowon looked at him one more time, her smile as bright as a sunrise. “I’m glad we’re on this mission together, Dyna.”

And as he took his place beside her, for the first time in a long time, he felt his icy resolve begin to thaw, the walls around his heart cracking as this girl, with all her innocence and determined hope, unknowingly became a small beacon of warmth in his world.

Jiu and Orion lingered at the entrance, observing the crew they’d be working alongside on this critical expedition to Theros. The lineup was impressive: familiar faces, seasoned in the rigors of psionic and magical arts, filled with names like Lorgar, Lady Sunshine, Magnus the Red, Dahyun, Gahyun along with newer figures like the prodigious Hanni and the ambitious Valence, and Charlemagne. It was the largest gathering of Ward Witches and Codex Keepers Jiu had ever seen for a single mission, and for a moment, she felt a sense of comfort amidst the growing concerns about Theros and the ever-present tensions of peacekeeping.

As Jiu and Orion approached, they exchanged casual greetings with the group. Jiu’s smile brightened when she spotted Lady Sunshine’s new apprentice, Wonhee, a young Ward Witch with a vibrant energy that balanced Lady Sunshine’s calm presence. But there was a conspicuous absence that Jiu immediately noted.

“Hey, where’s Doffy? We’ve heard so much about him,” she asked, turning to Lorgar.

Lorgar gave a brief sigh. “I thought it would be best not to bring him along. His family is on Tikumanjaro, which is currently occupied by Theros. His impartiality would have been compromised.”

Orion nodded, understanding the caution. “That makes sense. You need someone here without personal stakes in this conflict.”

Just as they finished their conversation, a cheerful voice broke through the air.

“Hi, friends!” Chowon called, approaching with a bright smile. She practically bounced toward the group, her youthful energy infectious as she greeted each member enthusiastically, showering them with handshakes and high-fives. Her innocence was palpable, a refreshing lightness that seemed almost out of place amidst the weighty task ahead.

As Chowon reached each person, the group smiled back at her, their usual guarded stances softening in response to her optimism. Even Valence, typically more reserved, couldn’t help but give a small smile when Chowon clasped his hand and gave it an earnest shake. Her confidence and sincerity were endearing, and for a moment, the looming dread of the mission seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of Chowon’s innocent determination.

But behind her, an armored figure approached—a towering, armored presence that immediately caught the group’s attention. Unlike Chowon, who exuded friendliness and hope, the man’s aura was cold, calculated, and undeniably intense. His steps were measured, and his gaze, though obscured by the mechanized helmet, seemed to pierce each of them with a silent, assessing focus. The group tensed, feeling the chilling weight of his aura pressing upon them.

Yet, amid the unease, there was a strange familiarity. Though unsettling, his energy resonated with something they’d felt before, as if they were encountering an echo of a presence they had once known. Lorgar’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying the armored man with newfound curiosity. It wasn’t an exact resemblance, but the sensation of his aura—the particular blend of authority and restrained power—hinted at a depth that wasn’t entirely foreign.

“Who… is that?” Dahyun murmured to Jiu, her voice barely a whisper.

“This is Dyna,” Chowon replied softly. “A psionic and magic mercenary.”

“‘Mercenary’?” Valence echoed, his tone laden with skepticism as he observed the man. The unsettling familiarity of Dyna’s aura gnawed at him, pulling up instincts forged over years of intense training. Where Chowon’s energy had softened the group’s typical defenses, Dyna’s presence was as sharp and chilling as the edge of a blade.

Chowon, oblivious to the group’s discomfort, turned back to Dyna and beckoned him forward, smiling brightly. “Come on, Dyna! These are my new friends. Everyone, this is Dyna. He’ll be joining us on the mission to Theros!”

The group exchanged wary glances, hesitating before responding. Lorgar cleared his throat and managed a nod, though his posture remained tense. He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—the fact that Dyna felt so completely out of place among the Ward Witches and Codex Keepers or the strange, haunting echo that lingered in his aura, like an old memory surfaced unbiddenly.

“Nice to… meet you, Dyna,” Lorgar finally said, extending a cautious hand. Dyna hesitated, then took it briefly, his grip firm yet cold, the handshake more a formality than any true attempt at camaraderie.

Orion, observing from the sidelines, noted the stark contrast between Chowon and Dyna. Chowon, who was so full of life and warmth, practically radiated optimism, pulling people toward her with effortless charm. Dyna, by contrast, seemed to create a boundary around himself, an invisible line that no one dared to cross. Where Chowon inspired trust, Dyna demanded respect—a respect born not from admiration but from a sense of guarded caution.

Finally, Aragorn leaned in, his voice low but clear. “Chowon, are you certain about Dyna’s participation?”

Chowon beamed at him, oblivious to the undertone of caution in his question. “Absolutely! He’s here to help, just like me. I know he might seem a bit… intense, but he’s good at heart.” She cast an encouraging look back at Dyna, whose silence and cold demeanor had become almost palpable. But there was a flicker of something in his stance—a tiny, unspoken gratitude directed at Chowon as if her presence alone kept his darker nature at bay.

Aragorn’s gaze softened slightly as he saw this, a silent acknowledgment of the bond between them. He still felt the heavy aura around Dyna, but perhaps, he thought, Chowon’s unwavering hope could be what tethered this man to the light.

After introductions, Chowon led Dyna through the ship’s corridors, her chatter filling the air as she commented on the various ship features and the expedition ahead. Dyna walked a step behind, carrying their bags with a silent presence that felt almost protective. As they reached their quarters, Dyna was surprised to find that their rooms were side-by-side. Beneath his mechanized visage, he felt an unanticipated warmth—one he hadn’t expected from this mission or this companion.

With a slight smile hidden under his helmet, Dyna entered his room. He closed the door, set down his helmet, and exhaled, the tension of being “on guard” easing. “Okay,” he murmured to himself, “one day down, sixty-four to go.” The long journey stretched before him, yet for some reason, the thought didn’t feel as daunting as it had before.

A soft knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts. Quickly, he slipped his helmet back on and opened the door. There stood Chowon, her face alight with curiosity, her big eyes brimming with warmth as she leaned casually against the frame.

“So,” she began, a playful glint in her eyes, “what’s your story? Why the helmet?” She tilted her head, studying him with a bright, expectant gaze that seemed to pierce through the cold metallic exterior.

Dyna hesitated, his silence only deepening her curiosity. “My identity can’t be compromised,” he finally replied, his tone carefully neutral. He noticed the slight pout that formed on her lips, amused despite himself.

Chowon shrugged and leaned in, undeterred. “Alright, well… when this is over, I’ll get to see your pretty eyes, right?”

He couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped. “Pretty eyes? No. Tired, maybe. But not pretty.”

Chowon laughed softly, an unforced sound that filled the small space between them. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she replied her tone light, yet her words lingering in a way that tugged at something deeper within him. “Fine, if you won’t tell me about your eyes, then tell me about where you come from. Someone as interesting as you must have an intriguing tale.”

For a moment, Dyna stood silent, his defenses slowly lowering under her genuine curiosity. Despite the countless battles and secrets he carried, talking with her felt… safe. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that unsettled him yet drew him in. Against his better judgment, he started to talk.

As he shared snippets of his life, carefully choosing his words to protect certain details, Chowon listened intently. She leaned against the doorway, absorbing each word with quiet attentiveness, her gaze never straying from him. He found himself revealing more than he had anticipated—his journey to becoming a mercenary, the worlds he had seen, the hard choices he’d had to make. Her expressions shifted with his words—sometimes wide-eyed with wonder, sometimes soft with empathy.

“Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” she murmured when he paused, her voice gentle. Her empathy seemed genuine, her gaze softening as if she could see past the layers of armor to the person underneath.

Dyna looked down, the cold metal of his visor masking his momentary vulnerability. “We all have our stories, Chowon,” he replied softly, deflecting with practiced ease. “I’m just one among many.”

Chowon reached out impulsively and placed a hand on his armored forearm, her warmth breaking through the barriers he had so carefully constructed. “Maybe, but you’re here now. And you’re not alone.”

The simplicity of her words stirred something in him, a sense of connection he hadn’t felt in a long time. For a brief moment, the walls he’d put up to keep everyone at a distance seemed less necessary. He wanted to say something more, but the words escaped him.

She withdrew her hand and smiled brightly, stepping back into the hallway. “Good night, Dyna. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, so… get used to me.”

He nodded, watching her retreating form. As she disappeared down the hall, he found himself feeling both exposed and strangely at ease. This journey, it seemed, would not just be about the mission. With Chowon beside him, it might be something more—something that, despite himself, he wasn’t entirely prepared for yet felt he might not want to resist.

Meanwhile, Hanni is busy on her knees.

"Oh fuck Hanni your mouth is so good," Valence moans in his quarters, as his secret paramour's thick lips ride his shaft up and down. For context, Codex Keeper Valence, and Ward Witch Hanni have been in this romantic…no errotic entanglement since they did their first expedition. their little trysts always start out the same. Hanni pouts those thick kissable lips and Valence folds to her whims before finding a private place to satisfy the instaitable little rabbit's cravings. right now it was a desire to swallow his cum so she was slowly bobbing on his shaft gagging and using her luscious lips to wring Valence dry.

"You always taste so fucking good," Hanni commented. Valence smiled as he caressed her face before she went back to sucking him off. He didn't last long as always with lips as excellent as Hanni's and exploded in her mouth. Hanni happily drank his cum.

The expedition set off on what was meant to be a straightforward departure, but barely had they left Terra’s atmosphere when they encountered their first obstacle. A massive armada of Theros fleet ships materialized, blocking their path with an aggressive formation. Alarms blared, and a terse command echoed through the ship: they demanded Lorgar and Orion surrender immediately.

Tensions mounted as the crew gathered on the bridge, each member preparing for the worst. Before anyone could devise a plan, Dyna stepped forward, his presence commanding. In one swift motion, he summoned his weapon, True King’s Legacy, a mighty, arcane spear pulsing with psionic and magical energy. The weapon crackled with raw, controlled power, sending an almost palpable shockwave through the bridge. Chowon’s eyes widened in awe, but the rest of the crew exchanged uneasy glances, their suspicion growing.

With an almost casual gesture, Dyna unleashed a barrage of psionic and magical beams, each shot finding its mark with unerring precision. The beams slammed into the Theros ships, leaving them crippled but intact, their weapon systems and warp drives completely disabled.

A stunned silence settled over the bridge as the crew processed the display of power. They exchanged wary looks, uncertain whether to be impressed or alarmed by Dyna’s precision. His attack had been perfectly controlled, too perfectly controlled. Most mages or psionics, even those with years of training, would struggle to achieve such restraint in the heat of battle, especially against a fleet of this magnitude.

Finally, Lorgar spoke, his voice a careful mix of curiosity and concern. “How did you know you could strike only their weapon systems and drives? That level of control is… rare.”

Dyna met his gaze with a calm confidence. “I practiced,” he replied simply. “I’ve been preparing for this. I’ve known for years that the Theros people might escalate to open war.”

His explanation was direct, yet it did little to settle the suspicion growing in the crew. Chowon, however, looked unfazed, even impressed, her eyes alight with admiration. “Isn’t this great? We have someone powerful and prepared!” Her voice was filled with optimism as she beamed at Dyna, but her enthusiasm was met with uneasy glances.

Orion, watching from the sidelines, narrowed his eyes. Practiced for years? he thought, an unsettling feeling creeping over him. Dyna spoke with a certainty that seemed out of place. What kind of experience did he have to perform such precise, simultaneous attacks on multiple warships?

Dahyun leaned toward Lady Sunshine, her voice a hushed whisper. “Doesn’t it feel like he’s… holding back? Like he’s only showing us a fraction of what he can do?”

Lady Sunshine nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on Dyna, calculating and cautious. “Yes. It’s not just his strength that’s worrying, it’s his familiarity with this type of combat. There’s a difference between being prepared and… expecting war.”

As Chowon’s words tried to dispel the tension, Aragorn stepped forward, his tone both polite and probing. “Dyna, I have to ask—this weapon of yours, True King’s Legacy. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. A weapon that merges psionic and magical energy to such an extent… it’s no ordinary artifact.”

Dyna shrugged off the compliment with a calmness that only raised more questions. “It’s a part of me,” he replied, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. “One learns to master what one is born with.”

The room felt charged with an unspoken suspicion as everyone separated. No one voiced their doubts directly, yet they lingered, casting cautious glances back at Dyna. His power was undeniable, but it felt veiled in secrecy—a mystery that left an uneasy feeling hanging in the air. And while Chowon’s cheerful demeanor eased the immediate tension, her words did little to silence the lingering questions in their minds.

As the days of their journey passed, Dyna and Chowon fell into a natural rhythm, their time together marked by a mix of quiet camaraderie and genuine understanding.

One day In the ship’s common area, Dyna was silently practicing his weapon handling, the weight of True King’s Legacy shifting effortlessly in his hands. Chowon sat nearby, her gaze flickering from her notes to him. He noticed her watching, a bit shy, as if unsure whether to speak up.

He paused mid-swing, lowering the weapon with a smile behind his helmet. “Want to give it a try?”

Chowon’s eyes widened, but she nodded eagerly. Dyna carefully handed her the weapon, guiding her hands to its center. As they went through each stance, Chowon’s laughter filled the air, her usual gentle demeanor tinged with excitement. She stumbled at first, nearly dropping it, but her persistence shone through, and her movements became sharper and more confident with each attempt.

When she finally handed the weapon back, breathless but beaming, Dyna felt a warmth in his chest, admiring the determination she hid beneath her soft exterior.

“It feels alive!” Chowon noted. Dyna mixed and said

“Well, that's because it is. This weapon is the last remnants of the True King Dragons and has now been with me for a very long time.” Dyna explained and to further his point True King transformed into a dragon. It was the size of the weapon roughly but held a regal respect.

Later, in the mess hall, they shared a meal. Chowon listened as Dyna shared tales of past battles, occasionally slipping into a fiery recount of events. His voice would grow passionate, his words carrying weight and conviction. But he’d always pause to check if she was still interested, with a gentle “I’m not boring you, am I?” Chowon would just shake her head, her attention rapt.

In turn, she shared stories of her own, mostly of misunderstood spells, eccentric mentors, and her struggle to make others see past her appearance. Her innocence and genuine curiosity shone through every word, but Dyna could sense her frustration, too—the doubt others cast on her because of her youthful appearance, the constant need to prove herself.

“Sometimes I think no one sees me for what I’m actually capable of,” she admitted softly.

Dyna’s gaze never wavered as he answered, “I see you, Chowon. I see exactly who you are.”

A soft blush rose in her cheeks, but her smile was grateful, her guard lowering with each moment they spent together.

One afternoon, Chowon tried to mend a damaged section of the ship’s barrier on her own. She was muttering to herself, biting her lip as she tried to figure out which spell to use. Dyna watched for a moment, impressed by her concentration and dedication, even if she struggled to recall the exact chant.

He stepped in quietly, saying, “Need some help?”

Together, they worked through the steps, Dyna guiding her with patience and precision. In moments when she’d stumble, he’d gently correct her, his tone never condescending, always encouraging. By the end, she’d mastered the barrier spell, her expression glowing with accomplishment as they watched the barrier solidify.

Chowon looked at him and said, “I’d never have figured it out without you.”

“You would’ve,” he replied simply. “I just helped you see it.”

During a quiet evening in the observation deck, the stars stretching infinitely around them, they sat side by side. Chowon sat worried about the negotiations and had this unending sense of dread. Dyna tried to console her to little avail. Realizing she needed a more personal touch Dyna took off his helmet and sat with the stressed girl. Chowon did a double take seeing his bare face for the first time. Dyna shared his helmet-free reflection on the window’s surface, allowing her a glimpse at his unmasked face for the first time. Chowon didn’t press or comment, simply sitting in quiet solidarity, respecting the intimacy of the moment.

They spoke about ambitions, fears, and the unknown future, finding quiet solace in each other’s presence. Chowon shared her dreams of bringing peace and healing to worlds in need, her words layered with vulnerability. Dyna, listening intently, understood that her outward innocence was no indication of weakness; rather, it was her strength, a steadfast faith in the good she could do.

Through these shared moments, their bond solidified, a connection neither had expected but both cherished. Dyna’s guarded demeanor softened in Chowon’s presence, and Chowon felt truly seen and appreciated for the first time in a long while. With each passing day, they grew more certain that they were not just companions on this mission—they were allies, confidants, and perhaps, something even more.

A few days after Around a long, polished table in the ship’s dining hall, Jiu, Lady Sunshine, Lorgar, and Orion sat together, immersed in conversation over a late dinner. The meal had long since moved beyond formal topics, and now, there was laughter and easy camaraderie. Lady Sunshine was recounting a story from her last mission, her face lit with an almost mischievous gleam, while Jiu shook her head, her own laughter soft and musical.

Lorgar took a sip of his drink, glancing between his companions. “And here I thought I had seen it all,” he mused, “but it seems you all have been busy these past few years.”

Orion leaned forward, his eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and intrigue. “Busy doesn’t even begin to cover it, Lorgar. We’ve all changed since our last time together.”

The familiar ease of their reunion was interrupted when the doors to the dining hall slid open, and Chowon stepped in, her cheerful energy lighting up the room immediately. Following behind her was Dyna, his armored figure as imposing as ever, though his posture was relaxed.

“Sorry, we’re late!” Chowon said, giving everyone a bright smile. “We just got caught up talking.”

She led Dyna over to join them, claiming an empty spot beside Jiu. Dyna hesitated, but at a gentle nudge from Chowon, he finally took a seat next to her. He inclined his head in respectful greeting, his presence somehow both quiet and commanding, his gaze flickering between the familiar faces around the table.

Lady Sunshine smiled warmly. “Well, it’s good to see you both. Chowon, I trust you’ve been keeping Dyna busy?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Chowon grinned, glancing at Dyna, who gave a subtle nod. “We’ve been all over the ship and even managed to help with the barrier spell earlier.”

Orion watched Dyna closely, his curiosity unmistakable. “Dyna, right?” he asked, his tone cordial yet probing. “I haven’t seen power like yours in some time. Mind if I ask where you trained?”

Dyna met Orion’s gaze evenly. “Mostly self-taught,” he replied with calm precision, his voice modulated but warmer than before. “But I’ve had… mentors along the way.”

There was a pause as Orion studied him, trying to discern more from Dyna’s guarded answer. But Dyna’s expression, while polite, gave little away.

“That’s impressive,” Lorgar chimed in, his own curiosity piqued. “Most who wield both psionics and magik have years of formal training.”

“Practice and persistence,” Dyna replied with a small shrug. His guarded tone softened as he added, “It’s been… an interesting journey, let’s say that.”

Chowon, noticing the weight in his words, gave him an encouraging smile. “And I can say he’s quite skilled! Not only in power but in precision.”

Orion chuckled lightly, clearly intrigued but sensing the need to change tactics. “Well, anyone who can keep up with Chowon deserves a medal.”

Dyna’s head tilted a hint of humor in his voice. “She’s definitely a challenge,” he agreed, glancing at her fondly.

Lady Sunshine raised an eyebrow. “Challenge? Oh, Dyna, you have no idea.”

Jiu leaned in, studying him thoughtfully. “You seem different from when we first saw you, Dyna,” she noted. “More… comfortable.”

Dyna paused, then gave a slight nod. “Traveling with Chowon… it’s been good for me. A reminder of what I’m here to protect.”

The table fell quiet for a moment, the group sharing a silent understanding. They sensed that Dyna was more than he seemed—a protector, a fighter, a man with his own set of codes, but one who chose his words carefully and gave little away about his past.

Orion, however, wasn’t one to let go so easily. “I’m sure your story is one worth telling,” he remarked with a pointed look. “Perhaps, in time, you’ll share it.”

Dyna’s gaze softened as he looked at the others, a hint of warmth flickering in his usually guarded expression. “Perhaps,” he replied, his tone a touch lighter. “But tonight, I’m just here to enjoy dinner with my… friends.”

Chowon’s face lit up at his words, and as the meal continued, it was clear that despite his quiet reserve, Dyna was slowly becoming part of their circle—a trusted, if enigmatic, presence in their midst.

As the expedition ship glided through the cold depths of space, the crew was finally beginning to settle into a rhythm. Halfway through their journey, a rare sense of calm had fallen over them. They were just starting to plan for the negotiations with Theros when the alarms blared through the corridors.

Dyna—always vigilant—was already on his feet, scanning the room for threats. Then, a flash of blinding light erupted outside the ship’s viewport, followed by a violent jolt as the entire vessel shuddered, throwing everyone to the ground. The emergency lights flickered to life, casting everything in a sickly red hue as the ship’s systems began shutting down one by one.

“Everyone, to the escape pods!” Lorgar shouted, his voice rising above the chaos as the crew stumbled to their feet.

As the crew scrambled to evacuate, Orion cursed, his gaze fixed on the control panel’s malfunctioning screens. The data displayed a signature that should have been impossible—one that shouldn’t have been there. Charlemagne. Orion’s expression twisted in disbelief.

Meanwhile, Charlemagne’s face appeared on the ship’s cracked display screens, smirking. “Apologies for the inconvenience, friends, but Theros made me an offer too good to refuse.” His eyes glittered with dark satisfaction. “And I have a schedule to keep.”

With that, the screen went dead, leaving the crew in stunned silence.

Realizing what had happened, Dyna didn’t hesitate. “Get moving! I’ll cover the rear and make sure everyone gets out.”

Jiu looked at him, her face pale with shock. “Dyna, you can’t hold off a full-blown attack alone!”

“I don’t plan on fighting them. Just… getting everyone out.” His voice was steady, leaving no room for argument.

One by one, the crew clambered into the escape pods, each person desperately buckling themselves in as explosions erupted closer and closer to the bridge. Dyna moved through the corridor, pulling people into the pods, forcing open doors, and carrying injured crew members. Each step he took was one closer to the heart of the chaos, where the sounds of machinery cracking under stress and flames licking at the walls filled the air.

The final escape pod held Jiu, Chowon, and Lorgar, all urgently waving for Dyna to jump in. The ship groaned as its structure began to give way, parts of the ceiling collapsing around them.

“Dyna, come on!” Chowon shouted, reaching out to him as he ran toward the pod. Just as he was about to step in, a burst of energy exploded above them, sending a spray of shrapnel down on his helmet. The force of the blast cracked it open, and the rest shattered from the impact.

As he staggered back, his face—one none of them had seen before—was revealed in full view. It was Doflamingo, Lorgar’s own apprentice, the one who hadn’t been brought along because of the occupation of Tikumanjaro.

“Doflamingo?” Lorgar breathed, his shock almost tangible.

The escape pod doors hissed shut, and with one last look at his former master, Doflamingo activated the release mechanism, sending the pod away from the disintegrating ship. He turned back to the destruction around him, a brief flicker of resolve hardening his gaze.

He watched the escape pods drift away, relieved that they were safe, as the ship around him groaned, cracking under the pressure. Just before the final explosion, he summoned all the power within him, his soul surging with strength and defiance, an unyielding fire radiating outward.

In the silence of space, the burning remains of the ship scattered, the escape pods drifting safely into the dark. And in every heart aboard, the truth sank in the unknown warrior they had come to trust was none other than Doflamingo, and he had given everything to protect them.

The escape pods streaked through the dark sky like falling stars, descending toward the closest habitable planet. In each pod, the crew braced for impact, gripping their seats as the small vessels rattled from the turbulence. When they finally hit solid ground, they stumbled out onto a strange, dense forest floor. The air was cool, the ground slightly damp, and a green mist hung low among the thick trees.

Chowon glanced up to the sky, worry tightening her heart. Doflamingo was still out there—alone in the damaged ship, facing the brutal reality of his own crash landing. The others around her started to take stock of their supplies and check for injuries, but Chowon’s focus was elsewhere. She could see him in her mind’s eye, maneuvering the ship, battered but resolute.

And then, through the canopy of clouds above, she spotted another flaming trail, the remnants of the main vessel hurtling toward the planet. A fiery streak blazed through the atmosphere before crashing in the distance, followed by a muffled but forceful shockwave that echoed across the forest.

Without thinking, Chowon broke into a sprint, the image of Doflamingo—no, Dyna—still vivid in her mind. She knew the others would likely follow, but none would reach him as fast as she could. Her feet pounded against the forest floor, her breaths coming fast and sharp as she navigated through dense trees and undergrowth. Finally, she reached the crash site.

The once-mighty ship was now a smoking ruin, pieces of the hull scattered and twisted. Among the wreckage, Doflamingo was half-buried beneath a broken panel, his face streaked with blood and grime. But he was alive, struggling to push himself free with what strength he had left.

“Dyna!” Chowon shouted, rushing over to him. She fell to her knees and gripped his arm, pulling him up just enough to get him out from under the twisted metal. Her heart swelled with relief and something else she couldn’t quite name as she saw his weary, bruised face. The remnants of his shattered helmet lay beside him, revealing every expression, every vulnerability he had hidden so carefully.

“Chowon,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, but a small, genuine smile played at his lips. “You… really didn’t have to come running like that.”

She returned his smile, gently brushing some debris from his shoulder. “Someone had to save the hero, right?” she said softly, her gaze unwavering. She helped him to his feet, slinging his arm over her shoulders as they limped back toward the others.

When they finally emerged from the trees, the rest of the group was waiting. Their expressions ranged from shock to wariness, each faced a mosaic of questions unasked.

Lorgar was the first to speak, his voice low and tinged with pain. “Doflamingo… I didn’t bring you along because I thought I couldn’t trust you here. You knew how important this mission was, and yet you… concealed yourself?”

Orion crossed his arms, his gaze icy and calculating as he studied him. “What was the plan here, Doflamingo? And how did you come by this level of power?”

Doflamingo opened his mouth, but Chowon spoke up first, her voice soft but firm, cutting through the tense silence. “Does it matter?” She met each of their gazes steadily, refusing to flinch. “He’s the reason we’re all alive. He fought to save us, even knowing he’d be hurt in the process. Dyna—Doflamingo—didn’t owe us anything, but he did it anyway.”

Lady Sunshine regarded her quietly, a small flicker of understanding in her gaze as she nodded. “There’s truth in that. Whatever questions we have can come later. Right now, we’re all here, alive, thanks to him.”

Doflamingo lowered his head, his expression a mixture of relief and guilt. “I know I deceived you all… but it was never my intention to betray any of you. Charlemagne’s actions put you in danger, and I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

Chowon tightened her hold on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “And you didn’t,” she said, her voice soft. “You didn’t betray us, Dyna. You protected us, and that’s all that matters.”

The others exchanged glances, and slowly, the tension began to ease, replaced by an unspoken understanding. One by one, they stepped forward, offering Doflamingo a nod, a hand on the shoulder, or a murmured word of gratitude. He felt a flicker of warmth within himself—a warmth that had begun with Chowon and now extended to the others, even as he knew they would still have questions.

For now, though, it was enough.

As the night settled in around the crash site, a quiet sense of hopelessness seemed to overtake the camp. Most of the crew sat in small, scattered groups, nursing injuries, comforting each other, or simply staring off into the dark, the weight of Charlemagne’s betrayal still hanging heavy in the air.

Doflamingo, though bruised and worn, hadn’t allowed himself to stop. Ignoring his aches and bruises, he channeled his powers, using psionics magic and palladics to pull pieces of the ship back together with deft precision. His hands moved with careful purpose, his aura flaring softly as the broken hull began to mend, inch by inch.

Chowon watched him, a sense of pride swelling in her chest. But as her gaze shifted to the others, she felt a pang of frustration. They were all capable, powerful even, and yet most of them sat idle, brooding, while Doflamingo strained himself to repair the ship. Her hands clenched into fists as she looked around the circle of tired, defeated faces.

Finally, she’d had enough. She stood up, her voice cutting through the silence with an unexpected sharpness. “Alright, listen up!” The force in her tone made everyone turn to her, taken aback by the normally soft-spoken Ward Witch’s sudden command. “You’re all sitting here feeling sorry for yourselves, when the one person who’s done the most to save us—despite everything—is over there, working alone.”

Lorgar looked at her in surprise. “Chowon, we’re trying to regroup, to assess—”

“No, what you’re doing is wallowing,” Chowon interrupted, her eyes flashing with determination. “Charlemagne betrayed us, but we’re not helpless. We have a ship, we have each other, and we have the power to fix this. But if you’re all going to sit around, I’ll be the one to say it—you’re failing this mission.”

The others exchanged glances, some of them shifting uncomfortably, but Chowon pressed on. “Doflamingo is over there, putting his life and strength on the line for us. I know some of you don’t understand him, but he’s shown more resilience and more care for all of us than I’ve seen from anyone here. We’re Ward Witches, Codex Keepers—we’re supposed to be the best, to lead in times of crisis, not to sit by when there’s work to be done.”

She took a step forward, her voice softening but remaining firm. “I’m helping him, with or without the rest of you. But if you have any respect for this mission, for yourselves, and for what we stand for, then get up and join us.”

Doflamingo looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and admiration as Chowon’s words cut through the camp like a bolt of lightning. Slowly, one by one, the others stood, their faces shifting from shock to resolution.

Orion was the first to speak. “You’re right, Chowon. We’ve been distracted. We owe it to each other—and to Doflamingo—to pull our weight.” He turned to the others, nodding. “Let’s get to work.”

Lorgar, though still processing everything, moved over to Doflamingo’s side, nodding with silent respect. Lady Sunshine and Jiu joined in, their powers flaring as they began assisting with the repairs, levitating sections of the hull into place or welding components together with controlled bursts of psionic energy.

Chowon stepped up beside Doflamingo, giving him an encouraging smile. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she said softly. “We’re here with you.”

As they worked together, a new energy filled the air, one of shared purpose and resilience. Under Chowon’s direction, the ship began to take shape, piece by piece, each member of the crew focused on a single goal. Chowon and Doflamingo had become the unlikely heart of this mission, their dedication inspiring everyone around them.

When dawn finally broke, the ship stood rebuilt, a symbol of their shared strength and determination. Chowon glanced around at the exhausted but resolute faces, a sense of pride filling her as she realized they had succeeded not just because of their powers, but because they had chosen to rise above their doubts and come together.

From that moment on, she and Doflamingo were the unspoken leaders of the group, their actions a testament to the courage that had kept them all moving forward.

As the newly restored ship sailed through the vastness of space, the team finally settled into a quiet camaraderie, bonded by the hardships they’d overcome together. The silence felt peaceful, but there was a new, unspoken understanding among them—respect for Chowon and Doflamingo’s unrelenting spirit that had carried them all through.

Doflamingo had found himself at the ship’s observation deck, staring out into the stars, his usually guarded expression softened by a hint of ease. After all the battles, betrayals, and near-death encounters, there was a calm he hadn’t felt in years. As he watched the distant lights of planets slipping by, a voice broke the silence behind him. For a moment he wasn't burdened by visions of the future.

“Thought I might find you here.”

He turned, and there was Chowon, her gaze warm and steady. She walked up beside him, leaning against the railing and letting the quiet stretch between them for a moment. Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes. “Doflamingo… I just wanted to say thank you. You gave everything to keep us safe out there.”

Doflamingo let out a quiet chuckle, glancing down. “I did what I had to. For everyone.” He paused, his voice softening. “For you.”

Her hand slipped over his, her fingers intertwining with his armored glove, her touch gentle but sure. “I know you did. And I know it wasn’t easy for you to keep… well, everything about yourself hidden from us. But you’ve shown me more than anyone ever has.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “And I want you to know, that no matter what others might say or think… you’re my hero. That’s my choice, and I’m proud of it.”

Doflamingo looked down at her, his usual cold gaze melting into something warmer, more vulnerable. “Chowon, I never expected anyone to see me the way you do. But… having you by my side, it’s more than I ever thought I deserved.”

She smiled, her eyes softening with a mixture of affection and determination. “Well, too bad. Because you are a hero deal with it.”

With a quiet laugh, he leaned down, his forehead resting gently against hers. They stayed like that for a moment, their surroundings forgotten as they held onto each other in the solitude of the stars.

“I like you. I like you a lot Doflamingo!” Chowon asserted confidently. Doflamingo nodded and replied

“Chowon when I'm with you everything seems better,” Chowon smiled before taking Doflamingo into a deep kiss. In that moment, Chowon’s heart swelled with pride, feeling as though she’d found her place and purpose in this chaotic universe. They weren’t just partners on this mission; they were each other’s anchor, their bond forged in fire and tempered by trust. When she broke the kiss the two of them, they stared at each other intently.

As the expedition ship hummed through the darkness of space, Dahyun found herself wandering the quieter corridors, lost in thought. Passing by one of the observation decks, she noticed a familiar pair silhouetted against the backdrop of stars—Chowon and Doflamingo, close together, sharing a quiet moment. Chowon’s hand rested easily in Doflamingo’s, her head leaned against his shoulder, and he was watching her with a look Dahyun hadn’t seen from him before—warmth, softness, and something undeniably close to love.

Dahyun’s breath hitched. She felt a pang deep in her chest, unexpected but undeniable. Memories drifted back—moments she and Doflamingo had shared, conversations where he’d seemed to open up, the way his rare smiles had once made her heart race. She had felt something, hadn’t she? A chance, perhaps, or at least the glimmer of one. But she’d buried those feelings, convinced herself it wasn’t the time. She’d told herself he was focused on his mission, on his responsibilities… and maybe, so was she.

She watched the two of them, saw Chowon’s easy laugh, the way Doflamingo’s normally rigid demeanor softened in her presence, and felt a strange blend of regret and bittersweet acceptance. She’d missed her chance—she realized that now. And yet, watching how Chowon and Doflamingo brought out the best in each other, she couldn’t deny that they seemed perfect together.

Dahyun took a steadying breath, her gaze shifting to the stars beyond them. Next time, she thought, a quiet promise forming in her heart. The next time she felt that spark, that chance for something real, she wouldn’t let her guard up or hold back out of caution. She would let herself feel it fully, without reservations or excuses.

She turned and walked away, leaving Chowon and Doflamingo to their moment. There was a lingering sadness, but beneath it, a newfound determination. She wouldn’t lose her chance again—whenever love came calling, she would be ready.

As Doflamingo and Chowon stood together Chowon began to feel a fire light in her lower abdomen it made her bolder.

“I need you,” Chowon whined before dragging him to her quarters where she slammed the door and locked it with him inside. Her eyes shifted as she pinned him to her bed. Despite all of his strength Doflamingo was still drained from ship repair and the crash landing. Chowon used her strength to pin him and yank his pants down. In her eyes a wild and reckless fire of passion. She saw his cock and slowly began to stroke it marveling as it got harder for her.

“You've been a bad boy, hiding this from me.” Chowon cooed in a seductive voice. When Doflamingo reached full mast she smiled. “I'm going to take all of you and you're going to take all of me. Well become one,” she said. Doflamingo began to feel light-headed as she took his manhood inside of her mouth. At first, she was slow but the fire inside her cast all other thoughts aside. Furiously she stripped before telling Doflamingo to do the same. Her eyes clouded with furious desire as the two of them stood in her room bare.

“You're so alluring,” Doflamingo said as Chowon happily pushed him onto the bed again.

“Oh is that all you have to say,” she asks she gropes her massive tits and says, “Really? nothing to say about these?” She stops and then switches to groping her ass, “or this,” she adds before she sinks on Doflamingo’s cock. She moans in carnal pleasure.

“You were the first one to view me as a woman. So I'm going to be the first to make you a man,” she proudly proclaims as she begins to ride Doflamingo. Doflamingo is overstimulated by her warm wet hole. Chowon notices it and giggles

“Do you like it? How wet I am for you?” she questions as she grinds along his shaft. Doflamingo nods as she starts bouncing on his cock. Chowon smiled watching Doflamingo unravel until he exploded inside of her. Chowon smiled as she continued riding until she came moments later.

She smiled as she cupped Doflamingo’s face before resting her head on his shoulders. The couple cuddled before falling asleep. When Chowon woke up she felt at peace as Doflamingo ran his hand along her hair. She felt like she was in a trance as Doflamingo pet her. The two sat silently for a while until they felt the ship lurch and move.

Doflamingo stormed off the ship, barely reining in the fury surging through every inch of his being. The moment his boots hit the ground, he shot forward, his eyes locked on the so-called “negotiation table” ahead. The others scrambled to keep up, but he was already steps ahead, moving with a deadly focus. Inside, every part of him screamed for destruction, to tear apart the pieces of a universe that had betrayed him, but he forced himself to hold on.

When he reached the table, his presence alone sent a shockwave of fear through the air. The Loremaster of Diplomatics, attempting an oblivious greeting, barely had time to blink before Doflamingo seized him and hurled him out of the room. The heavy doors clanged shut, locking him and the Theros representatives inside. His energy swelled, filling the room with an oppressive heat that made the representatives shrink back in terror.

Doflamingo took a long, slow breath, letting the facade of calm settle over his features. His voice, soft and cordial, cut through the silence with chilling contrast to the rage roiling just beneath the surface. “I’ve brought you peace terms,” he said, pushing the contract across the table toward them.

One representative fumbled for the document, his hands trembling as he read the conditions. As they skimmed the pages, their expressions shifted from fear to astonishment. The terms were generous, more than they’d anticipated—land grants, resources, everything they’d wanted save three final demands: Lorgar’s head, Orion’s head, and the return of the confiscated gene bombs.

“How did you get this approval?” one of the representatives stammered, looking up at Doflamingo in disbelief.

Doflamingo’s eyes narrowed as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a menacing murmur. “The Confederation understands just how far your ambition stretches. They see this as a clean break—a way to end this war without plunging us all into an endless bloodbath.” His voice wavered as fury simmered beneath the surface, barely controlled. “Are the terms acceptable?”

“Yes… yes, they are,” one of the representatives hurriedly replied, his eyes darting away from Doflamingo’s intense gaze.

“Good.” Doflamingo straightened, an eerie calm settling over him as he took a single, deep breath. He turned, striding out of the room and into the gathering group of his comrades. “It’s over,” he announced, his voice low but carrying an edge of relief.

But as he said the words, his emotions caught up to him, and the calm shattered. His aura swelled, a raw, explosive power filling the space around him. Rage crackled in the air like a storm on the verge of breaking as he fixed his gaze on Charlemagne, standing among the others, still wearing that smug, unperturbed expression. Every fiber of Doflamingo’s being screamed at him to burn everything to the ground, to let loose the inferno within.

“Now you…” Doflamingo’s voice dropped to a feral growl as he took a step forward, his psionic, magic, and palladic runes flaring so intensely they seemed to light up the entire room. “Do you have any idea what you were about to do? You nearly threw us into a billion-year war for what? Personal gain?”

The fury in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at, and Charlemagne, for the first time, flinched under his gaze. “You took shortcuts and turned a blind eye while innocent lives burned, all because you thought you saw an opening to climb the ladder.”

Doflamingo’s fists clenched, his hands trembling as he summoned his weapon, True King’s Legacy, its saber-like form glowing in the dark energy of his seething anger. The weapon itself seemed to pulse in tune with his rage, mirroring the wrath consuming him. “I should skin you alive,” he hissed, his voice breaking with raw desperation. “It would be nothing less than justice.”

Before he could advance further, the other Codex Keepers, Lorgar, Orion, Aragorn, and Magnus the Red, stepped forward, surrounding him. Their weapons were drawn, creating a tense barrier between him and Charlemagne.

“Doflamingo, you can’t do this,” Lorgar said firmly, his tone unyielding. “There are laws, boundaries even for you.”

Doflamingo’s face twisted in frustration, his voice cracking as he shot back, “What part of ‘billion-year war’ doesn’t register with you?” His breath was labored, his mind clinging desperately to the last threads of sanity as he fought against the darkness gnawing at him from within.

“All of it. The war is averted; it’s over,” Lorgar insisted, his voice calm but resolute. “He lost. You won. Isn’t that enough?”

“No! It’s not enough!” Doflamingo’s voice was almost pleading, the words spilling out in agony. His hands shook as he gripped True King’s Legacy, its blade vibrating with his need for retribution. “I need this…”

“No, you want this,” Aragorn countered, his voice like a steel blade. “You think this will satisfy your rage, but it won’t. It will only pull you deeper.”

Doflamingo shook his head, desperation etched into his features. “Same difference,” he spat, his voice barely a whisper. “Isn’t this self-defense? He tried to kill us! Doesn’t that count for something?”

“You’re not defending yourself,” Orion interjected softly. “This is revenge. You’re here to settle a vendetta, nothing more.”

Doflamingo’s defenses crumbled, and a single tear traced down his cheek. He took a shuddering breath, his voice reduced to a quiet, painful whisper. “Please, just let me have this.” His eyes were hollow, reflecting the years of nightmares and rage pent up within him, the screams of innocents forever etched in his memory.

But his mentors stood their ground, their gazes unyielding. “This won’t heal you, Doflamingo,” Lorgar said gently. “The pain you carry—it’s the cost of bearing future sight and bearing the weight of others’ suffering. But revenge won’t make it any lighter.”

Doflamingo’s shoulders slumped, his grip on True King’s Legacy loosening as he let out a shuddering exhale. “I don’t need true sight to know he’s going to be a problem. He’ll come back… and the cost will be on all of you. I could end it all right here, but you cowards would have him live another day”

The haunting prophecy hung in the air, chilling everyone present. But Doflamingo, finally releasing his grip on the weapon, stepped back. His eyes, though filled with anguish, softened when he saw Chowon standing nearby, her gaze steady and filled with understanding. She stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

Doflamingo looked at her, the warmth in her eyes cutting through the remnants of his fury, grounding him. Slowly, he let himself relax, letting her calm presence dissolve the last of his rage.

A few weeks later, the Codex Keepers convened in a quiet, vaulted chamber aboard the Confederation’s flagship. It was a solemn assembly, their faces set with the weight of the decision they were here to make. Lorgar, Aragorn, and Magnus the Red sat in a circle with the other master Codex Keepers, the hum of energy around them heavy with tension as they reviewed the events leading up to the final negotiation.

Lorgar broke the silence, his voice grave. “None of us can deny that Doflamingo’s actions saved countless lives. He was instrumental in averting a catastrophic war and stood against unimaginable odds. But his methods…” He paused, gathering his words. “They were unacceptable. His disregard for the principles of restraint and diplomacy nearly led us into the very destruction he sought to prevent.”

Aragorn nodded solemnly. “Yes, he protected us, but he almost gave in to a darkness within himself, a need for vengeance that goes against everything a Codex Keeper stands for. His confrontation with Charlemagne went beyond defending himself. His actions were driven by a vendetta, not justice.”

Magnus sighed, his eyes thoughtful but resolute. “Doflamingo’s fury was understandable, given the pain he’s suffered. But his anger was so close to consuming him—and all of us along with it. If we turn a blind eye, we risk legitimizing that kind of retribution, and that’s a precedent we can’t afford to set.”

The others murmured in agreement. They each recognized Doflamingo’s contributions but felt the need for an unshakeable moral foundation within their order. Finally, Magnus the Red spoke. “The power of a Codex Keeper lies not only in their abilities but in their discipline. A Keeper cannot let rage dictate their actions, no matter how justified that rage may feel. If we allow Doflamingo to remain, we signal that unchecked fury has a place among us.”

With a heavy heart, Lorgar raised his hand, symbolically casting his vote. The others followed, each lifting their hands in solemn confirmation. The decision was unanimous. Doflamingo would be expelled from the Codex Keepers.

“Then it is decided,” Lorgar announced, his voice filled with a quiet sadness. “We will relieve Doflamingo of his title and position within the Codex Keepers. His service to the Confederation will be honored, but he can no longer serve as one of us.”

As they concluded the proceedings, Lorgar nodded to the doorway. Standing just outside was Othello, known once again as Codex Keeper Orion. The mantle had returned to him after years away, and though he wore the title with a familiar dignity, a shadow crossed his face as he listened.

Othello entered, nodding respectfully to the council. “It’s unfortunate to see Doflamingo leave,” he said, his tone gentle but understanding. “But I will do my best to uphold the order’s principles and restore what was lost.” There was a determination in his eyes—a commitment to honor the values they held dear.

The Keepers dispersed quietly, each carrying a sense of both relief and regret. Doflamingo’s absence was a painful loss, a reminder of the price of unchecked power. But as Codex Keeper Orion took his place once more, the order had a chance to rebuild, to reestablish the foundation of restraint and honor that defined them.

Doflamingo received the news of his expulsion alone, a formal message transmitted with the seal of the Codex Keepers. The decision, though not unexpected, hit him with a crushing finality he hadn’t anticipated. Standing by himself, he read the message in silence, the words blurring slightly as he realized how thoroughly his actions had stripped him of the order that had been his life. The title he’d worked for, the discipline he’d held himself to—it had all been taken from him in one swift sentence.

His fists clenched as he fought the conflicting emotions swirling within him. Rage flared, hot and searing, his mind instinctively revisiting the moments when he’d acted, in his eyes, to protect everyone—even when that protection demanded ruthless measures. Every cell in his body wanted to argue, to lash out at the council’s narrow perspective. They hadn’t seen the horror he had glimpsed in his nightmares, hadn’t felt the weight of what he knew was at stake.

But behind that fury was a deeper hurt, a stinging sense of betrayal and isolation. The Codex Keepers had been his family, his mentors, his anchor. And now, with a few strokes of their pens, they had turned their backs on him. There was no room for understanding, for the complexity of what he’d been through. The very people he had sacrificed so much for had cast him aside.

He could almost hear the voices of his mentors—their words of caution and control, their steady insistence on restraint. Their faces came to him, one by one, and a part of him could see their point. His own anger had come close to consuming him. And yet, even with that understanding, the pain of being deemed unworthy, of having his efforts and loyalty reduced to recklessness, left him hollowed out.

Doflamingo exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm raging within. There was no reversing the council’s decision, no amount of justification would bring him back into their ranks. The Codex Keepers’ judgment, even if he despised it, was final. He had given everything, and they had still let him go.

A hand touched his shoulder—Chowon. Her presence grounded him instantly, easing the bitterness gnawing at his heart. She’d stood by him, seen him at his worst, and she hadn’t turned away. Looking into her warm, reassuring eyes, he found something to hold on to, something real that didn’t depend on titles or orders.

“They can take their title,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “but they can’t take what I’ve fought for.”

Chowon nodded, offering him a small, sympathetic smile. “No, they can’t. And they won’t. What you did will stand, and they’ll remember it—even if they don’t acknowledge it now.”

Together, they left the room, his resolve renewed with each step. If he couldn’t be a Codex Keeper, he would find his own way to protect those he cared about. And though he had lost his place in the order, he still had a purpose—and people who believed in him.

A year had passed since Doflamingo’s expulsion, yet the sting of betrayal was fresh in his heart. When the news broke that Charlemagne had been cleared of all wrongdoing and was to be reinstated, Doflamingo’s faith in the Codex Keepers shattered once more. The public spectacle of the trial had been grueling, exposing the rot in an order that claimed to uphold justice and truth. To everyone else, this outcome was stunning, outrageous even. But for Doflamingo and Chowon, it was simply confirmation of what they’d known all along: the Codex Keepers were willing to protect their own—even at the cost of true justice.

On a quiet evening, Doflamingo waited outside the Codex Keepers’ headquarters. Lorgar, Magnus, Aragorn, and Orion stepped out after a long day, visibly worn by the day’s events. To their surprise, they saw Doflamingo waiting, a platter of food in his hands. Silently, they sat down together on the steps, taking portions from the platter, eating as if this gathering were normal, though tension and unspoken words lay heavy in the air.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the clink of utensils and the muffled sounds of the city around them. Doflamingo’s gaze was distant, fixed somewhere past the stars, his fury radiating like a dark, suppressed storm. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice a quiet, seething whisper.

“I will never forgive, nor forget this,” he murmured, his tone deadly calm. “Your cowardice here will cost you, and it will cost this order dearly. But I should’ve known—none of you can handle what it takes to see beyond this flawed, rotting system.” He clenched his fists, voice thick with restrained anger. “I will tear it down, every piece, but it will be a revolution unlike anything this universe has seen. No war. No bloodshed. Just power. And the strength of that power will be so absolute that the universe will have no choice but to submit.”

Lorgar’s face tightened, and with a heavy breath, he leaned forward, eyes searching Doflamingo’s for some glimmer of the apprentice he once knew. “Please, don’t do this,” he pleaded, voice almost breaking. “Don’t turn against us. There’s another way.”

Doflamingo’s bitter laugh filled the silence, and he shook his head slowly. “Another way?” he echoed, his voice hollow. “Do you think I haven’t tried to find it? Do you think I didn’t give everything to prevent the war that haunted my dreams? Those visions started the day I joined you, the day I trusted you.” His voice dropped, tinged with hurt. “I did everything I could to protect this universe, and yet here I am—stripped of my title, cast aside—while you welcome a traitor back into your ranks.”

Aragorn looked down, fists clenched, unable to meet Doflamingo’s gaze. The regret was evident on each of their faces, but none of them spoke. They all knew, in some way, that he was right, but they had chosen the path of least resistance, the preservation of order over true justice.

Doflamingo turned to them, his face set with finality. “When next we meet, it may be as enemies. So pray that your god shows you mercy.” He took a breath, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. “Because I won’t.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving them in silence. The four Codex Keepers sat unmoving, watching his figure fade into the twilight, each haunted by the knowledge that the apprentice they had once cherished was lost to them—and that one day, their failure to act might bring them all to ruin.

Later that evening, Chowon stormed through the Ward Witches, her heart pounding with anger and hurt. The verdict had been announced, and Charlemagne’s smug, unrepentant face flashed in her mind as he walked free, reinstated without consequence. She found Lady Sunshine in one of the training rooms, lost in meditation, her aura glowing with the calm resolve that Chowon used to admire so much. Today, however, it filled her with frustration.

“Lady Sunshine,” Chowon’s voice echoed, sharper than she’d intended. Lady Sunshine opened her eyes, a flicker of surprise crossing her face at the sight of Chowon’s intensity.

“Yes, Chowon?” she asked gently, though she already sensed the reason for this confrontation.

“Why?” Chowon’s voice trembled, anger and confusion layered into every syllable. “Why did you stop Doflamingo from ending Charlemagne? You knew what he did. You knew the lies, the betrayal, and yet you still stepped in to protect him.” Chowon’s eyes searched Lady Sunshine’s face, desperately seeking an answer that might make sense of this.

Lady Sunshine sighed, her expression softening with a sadness Chowon hadn’t seen before. “It wasn’t as simple as you think, Chowon. Doflamingo was acting on rage. If he’d killed Charlemagne in that moment, it would have set him on a path that could destroy him. I couldn’t let him lose himself like that.”

Chowon shook her head, frustration flaring. “But Charlemagne caused all this! He tried to get us killed, he sabotaged the mission, he betrayed everything the Codex Keepers stand for—and yet you let him walk free.” Her fists clenched. “And Doflamingo? He gave everything for this order, for all of us, and you still stood in his way.”

Lady Sunshine’s gaze turned distant, as if remembering all the burdens she’d carried through her years in the Codex Keepers. “I know you’re hurt, Chowon. I know this seems like we betrayed him. But Doflamingo’s path is dangerous—not because of his power, but because of what his anger might make him do. If he destroys Charlemagne, he risks becoming the very thing he fought against. A force unchecked can turn dark.”

Chowon’s eyes filled with tears, but her voice was steady. “He deserved justice. Doflamingo deserved the chance to be heard, to end this cycle of betrayal.” She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “But you silenced him. You all did.”

Lady Sunshine looked down, regret flickering in her eyes. “I silenced him because I care for him, and I hoped to protect him from a fate he’d regret. But perhaps…” She hesitated, her voice softer. “Perhaps we all failed him in ways we’ll never fully understand.”

The two stood in silence, the weight of unspoken truths settling between them. Chowon took a shaky breath, her voice almost a whisper. “If you truly cared, you would have stood with him.” With that, she turned and left, leaving Lady Sunshine alone with the echoes of her own doubts, feeling for the first time the loss of a student she never truly understood.

Not long after her conversation with Lady Sunshine, Chowon stood at the threshold of the Ward Witches’ grand hall for the last time. She could still remember the day she had first entered these halls, brimming with hope and pride, certain that she’d found a place where her gifts could make a real difference. But now, those walls felt cold, and the familiar faces that passed by looked at her with pity or disapproval rather than understanding. Her heart hardened as she recalled the injustice they had let fester, the loyalty they had so easily betrayed.

With a final glance at the Ward Witches’ insignia, she turned her back on it, stepping out into the cold night air, feeling freer—and angrier—than she had in years. Outside, Doflamingo waited, leaning against the wall, his gaze steady as she approached. He already knew what her decision would be; he could see it in her stride, the fierceness in her eyes.

“So, you left?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with a hint of satisfaction.

She nodded. “I’m done with orders that only pretend to seek justice. They never stood by you, or anyone who truly wanted to change things. I’ve had enough of their hypocrisy.”

Doflamingo looked at her, pride and affection gleaming in his eyes. He stepped closer, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. “Then, Chowon, what’s your next move?”

She looked up at him, determination flaring. “I want to fight for real change, not just promises. And that means standing with you.”

Doflamingo chuckled, a deep, rolling sound filled with dark satisfaction and resolve. “Well, if you’re ready to join me, my next move is clear.” He stepped back and stretched his arms toward the stars. “I’m going to become the Lord of the Skies.”

Chowon’s eyes sparkled, and a wide smile broke across her face. She didn’t hesitate. “Then I’m with you, Doflamingo. The skies it is.”

Together, they looked toward the endless stars above, the path now uncertain but wholly their own. It was just the beginning of the journey—one they would carve out with strength, vision, and an unwavering belief in each other.

As Chowon and Doflamingo stood together, staring up at the infinite skies, the weight of their new mission settled between them. The universe was vast and daunting, filled with old powers and ancient grudges, but neither of them felt fear. The stars beckoned with the promise of freedom—a freedom they’d claim on their terms.

In the days that followed, rumors spread quickly. Stories of Doflamingo, now known as “ Lord Imperius” and his mysterious partner “Lady Libertas”, a fierce and brilliant Ward Witch, began to ripple through the sectors. Planets once bound by corrupt orders felt hope stirring for the first time in decades. Those who sought justice, those who had been silenced or wronged, now had a voice—and a pair of protectors willing to defy every rule to ensure their freedom.

[alliseaisfandom]

Some Coven of Chaos headcanons

(I haven't watched the finale yet and so I'm coping already just in case. For arguments sake we assume the road was real and at the end it gave Jen, Billy, Agatha and Rio the rest of the coven back, because I'm sappy and live in denial)

They're all alive and meet for holidays. Keep that in mind for the rest of the list.

Jen mixes the best drinks. Alcoholic or not, everyone is convinced there's magic involved. She's got a lifelong ownership of the liqueur cabinet at everyone's house.

Alice can play the cello. Billy is the only one who knows this fact. That is until he can get her tipsy enough to break it out someday play for the coven (he almost got it at Samhain)

Lilia has a "memorial pool" in her backyard.

She was also the one to veto Cats out of Billy's suggestion list for musicals they could go to

Said musical outing has yet to happen since almost everyone voted in a different thing

Agatha voted for wicked.

Rio voted for beetljuice (there was a fight over this, Billy remembers very little of it other than hearing Eddie yell "just because you say it three times doesn't mean your vote counts more". It was the first time he brought Eddie to meet the Coven, and sure at the time he didn't know he was arguing with Death Herself, but Billy was impressed regardless)

Lilia voted for Carmen. When told that Opera was not on the list, she argued that dying granted her an extra vote.

Alice agreed, and so West Side story lives on Billy's whiteboard with 2 votes

Jen voted first and picked Chicago, which Billy also voted for, unfortunately when he tried using Lilia's argument, he was reminded rather aggressively and extensively by Rio that being unmade and Dying are actually two very different things

It's the most anyone has ever heard her talk at once and Billy still regrets not taking out his notebook to remember more of it

Unfortunately he only remembered that he did in fact die as William after he and Eddie were on their way home

Rio hates easter with a passion. She has a great time during Good Friday and then sulks for the rest of the weekend

She also steers clear of most of South America and southern Europe in the ends of cotober-beginning of November, not that she doesn't like the Death related holidays, it's just that people keep spotting her even when she doesn't want them to! It's exclusive to that time of year and she's been trying - and failing- to stop it for centuries

The Titanic was a gift from Agatha to Rio. Yes the Iceberg was an accident, in the way that it rendered useless the very precarious fire she'd set to one of the engine rooms

Rio was very thankful.

Billy's school organised an end of year trip to Italy. That night he got a call from Lilia where she told him the best places to go to, what tourist traps to avoid, and asked if he could bring her back a package stashed away under the floorboards of what he eventually found out was a heavily guarded historical monument

The first time they all actually got together to celebrate anything was Alice's birthday dinner

Agatha found herself with 6 unwanted guests in her kitchen and zero explanation. She did not kick them out, a fact she loudly proclaims to regret as often as possible

There is a group chat

Billy, Alice e and Rio are the most active in it, with Jen following, a bit behind because she "actually has a real job that takes up time that you all seem to have free for some reason" (her herb garden died that afternoon and she refused to answer any of Rio's texts for a week after that.)

Lilia never interacts, and they're not entirely sure she receives the messages, as everyone's phones glitch when they try to check

Agatha leaves them on read

Jen was invited to a beauty event in New York. She brought Billy as her plus one, who proceeded to act as her agent all night, getting her two new brand deals, and a spot on a talk show. She brings him along every time now

To be continued

[maxisanangrywell]

i honestly could see them as wrath in a way 🤔

Soap angry, filled with rage at wanting to right wrongs. So much taken from the people around him. Explosions being something he uses to work his anger out. The orange and red lighting up his eyes behind the red skull mask. Blood that pools from his skull after he's killed, the anger that wells up in Ghost. The last thing he loved was finally stolen from him.

He's felt rage before, felt it with his father, Riba, Tommy when he got into drugs. He feels anger so often, but this pure, unfiltered anger is so strong it blocks out his need to breathe... It paints his vision red, and the grotesque painting he creates with Makarov afterwards is used in books about torture methods for decades to come. Red is symbolic of passion, obsession, blood, hate, sex, fire and flame. Wrath is mixed in there somewhere, but it's never towards each other just the world that tried to tear them apart.

Ghost ships but they’re themed as the seven deadly sins (PriceGhost is pride)

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: ooh are we talking about reapertale? okay time to bring flowey into it because i was actually thinking about him recently—

first off, unrelated tangent, i think they did chara pretty decently? like, they used to be kind, but they were betrayed by monsterkind, etc etc. i like that, it honestly brings up what i think is a tragically unexplored part of their character. they hate monsterkind in some way for being so nice, and i think that’s why we can drive them to support genocide so quickly. i do think they shouldn’t have been evil right off the bat, of course, but hey! they’re a mythological figure. that stuff happens a lot in mythology, and more importantly it works in tangent to undertale.

flowey, though. god. amnesia does not suit him. they stripped him of character and expected him to still be flowey. it’s illogical. really reflects the early fandom’s perception of flowey and asriel as entirely different people. like being a flower makes you want to kill people or something. smh.

sorry i turned the topic to flowey but like. does he have to be the embodiment of despair. him being obsessed with chara is in-character i guess but he does it in such an out-of-character way. honestly that’s a big problem with every au! they make him a sweet little guy without actually addressing the roots of his canon problems. i mean, that or they make him the living embodiment of evil. they gave him the chara treatment, seriously.

he has so many layers though. it’s hard to fit him into one category. personally i’d make him some kind of pandora’s box thing. like an embodiment of the world’s pestilences where he used to be a closed box. helps highlight that he didn’t change, the box was always there, dying just opened it.

that might not make any sense. but man i’m tired of people making flowey chara’s lapdog. when in genocide he clearly sees himself as a partner in crime, at least until the end. (and then he defies them and ruins the whole killing humanity thing. so.) and don’t even get me started on pacifist. he tries to kill you repeatedly because he thinks you’re chara.

flowey is driven by (platonic!!) love. but it’s not the soft love you see on greeting cards or tv. it’s angry love. aggressive love. he’d do anything for the person he loves. even kill them.

honestly, maybe flowey would work better as a god of love. (yes i headcanon him as aroace but still.) “asriel” is soft, caring love. hugs and kisses and warm blankets and all that. “flowey” is the kind of love that slaps you in the face to get you up in the morning. he’s possessive, angry, passionate.

WHOO this got long.

[jeonscatalyst]

PJMs and JJKs being arch-nemesis is the funniest thing. I feel like jungkook and jimin are the modern romeo and juliet lmao They're always at each other's throats and always at war. Like wdym your faves are the closest? am not a firm shipper of jikook but if it turns out theyre really together and they get married that's good because then I'll see their solos get crazier. It'll be very funny

Hey anon,

It’s always been really funny to me how much Jimin and Jungkook solos hate each other and the funniest thing is, it’s always been like this. I have disscussed before why I think they hate each other so much and although there are quite a few reasons, I think the biggest reason for JJK’s is that Jimin is the only member who can go neck to neck with Jk and you know they hate that and for Jimin solos, it is to a lesser extent the same thing but more about how they feel Jk treated/ treats Jimin. Jjks also don’t think Jimin treats Jk well. They feel like he harasses Jk, abuses him and secretly hate him and is jealous of his success.

I don’t think they hate each other and by an extension each other’s fave for no reason. Jimin and Jungkook unlike the other members have always had a very complicated relationship and one that needed people with maturity and a great deal of life experiences to understand. To put things simply, Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship with each other hasn’t always been simple to understand and people generally do not like things that are complicated.

One day we will do a deep dive into all the reasons I think there is this deep rivalry and hatred between them because it kinda doesn’t make sense why two people would love each other so much yet their fans hate each other with a passion deep enough to drown a whale.

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

You do realize misandry is not abuse right? The women who abused your friend might have been misandrist too but it has nothing to do with it. And misandrists don’t specifically believe than men can’t be abused. Again, this might have been the case for the women around your friend, but it has nothing to do with it.

Misandry is a legitimate answer to men’s domination and violence. Misandry does not harm men. It does not put them in danger, it does not oppress them, it does not prevent them to access to certain rights, etc. Most of the time misandrists just avoid being around men when they can. They just don’t become friends with them or date them, and that’s not even true for all misandrists.

Literally explain to me how misandry is a problem. What does it to do men that it so unbearable? I genuinely don’t get it. Misogyny kills every day, misandry didn’t do a single victim.

I’m not the same person who asked you the previous question btw, but I was baffled by your response as well

So.. you're telling me.. a man being belittled and having his trauma downplayed because he's a man has nothing to do with it being socially acceptable to hate men? It doesn't cause harm when men are falsely accussed of rape because they are men in an attempt to ruin their life? It's not harmful when man-hating radfems tell trans men that they're misogynistic and betraying women by transitioning to male???

And please note how I never threaten the fact that misogyny exists or try to claim that misandry is worse. But people are so fast to believe that if misandry (hatred against men) exists, then misogyny (hatred against women) can't exist. Like why do people freak out at the thought that hatred against men is a real thing and a problem? Has blind hatred ever done anyone good?

I probably shouldn't bring up such personal experiences with misandry, but sometimes it feels like the only way to prove a point, but it doesn't even work since people don't listen. People refuse to believe that men could ever be hurt by what women say to them, because every man is a rapist and a pedophile and a misogynistic wife beater just itching for the day they give in and do something bad. ...Like, no, most men are normal and the world doesn't benefit from you thinking they should all kill themselves.

I genuinely don't understand why that's such a difficult thing for some people to grasp. Yes, misogyny is incredibly bad and all over the world there are problems of varying severity that women specifically face. The focus should be on helping women and combating misogyny, because as you say, women are hurt far more.

But I'm so genuinely confused on why it makes people piss themselves and cry when someone says that it's bad to hate all men so passionately. You're not being as progressive as you think.

[thatneoncrisis]

griddlehark situationship can be sooooo. it makes me gnash my teeth. their weird ways of saying sorry vs gideon's relief when they're back to bickering bc its familiar. harrow's genuine discomfort at being called a tar pit but just. not knowing how not to be. and also being snippy the more adjectives are added.

also loved how you got other characters in as well (we suffer as dolores was my favourite)

question: what did harrow mean when she said the light had dimmed?

the tar pit bit was fun to do, im in my bojack rewatch era and that series has done a TON of chemical changes in my brain re writing about toxic characters and grief and whatnot. this whole things feels like a loose homage to free churro, just like the grappling of loosing a relationship with your mother than you never even had, and never will have

picking we suffer and wakes new names was fun. im kind of iffy on changing characters names into more normal ones but i think i jsut have lingering resentment from homestuck. kevin vantas i will always hate you. i really appreciate it when its like thought out or a pun, like the fic You Just Ain't Recieving has the angel called d'angelo and thats awesome like bam perfect name. so learning dolores basically means sorrow in spanish was kind of perfect for a woman named we suffer, and frankly i just kind of lucked out that te wake is like an actual last name. pash's excuse is that shes transgender shes just literally named passion and they all live with that

in regards to the actual question you asked its pretty simple- harrow is extraordinarily bad with people. especially people in delicate emotional states because their mom is dead and their life already sucks on top of that. normally, when harrow says something bitchy or callous to gideon they can just go back and forth, spar for a while it doesnt mean anything. but gideon isnt bouncing back anymore. when harrow is mean to her she just kind of sighs and withdraws. and its not just like, the dead mom thing. its been happening for a while. its just getting less fun. arguing isnt a game anymore its just arguing. theyre getting older and things are changing between them, and harrow is recognizing that change but she doesnt know what to do, because shes just kind of a mean person. gideon doesnt smile as much, harrow conceptualizes her as this very big radiant personality and shes just. not. shes complicated. shes depressed

[avianyuh]

Boring | Min Yoongi

{Chapter One} {Chapter Two} {Chapter Three} {Chapter Four} {Chapter Five} Chapter Six

Summary: You decide it's time for your friends to officially sit down and meet Yoongi out of the office. However, things don't go as planned and it's not for the reasons you'd normally suspect.

After that lunch with your friends two months ago, things had remained the same at work. You hadn’t moved in with Yoongi yet, so Mondays through Thursdays, you slept at your own apartment. Fridays and weekends you spent with Yoongi at his place since you didn’t have to come up with some elaborate plan to sneak into work together without making people at the office suspicious. You hadn’t worked on any other projects with Yoongi for the fear of your relationship being outed and your work being diminished as a ‘task’ the boss had given to his girlfriend.

But unlike work, your actual relationship has done nothing but change over the last five months of your relationship. You weren’t living together, but the suggestion of it was brought up to you at least once a week. Out at dinner? “You know Y/N, if we loved together this could be our designated takeout place…” Watching a movie? “What if we repainted the bedroom to be that shade of green like they have in the movie? Moving in would be a great excuse to remodel…” And of course, trying to leave Yoongi’s apartment on Sunday night. “I can’t stand not seeing you here for four days. I hate this.” He’d whine, holding you close as your bodies stood in the entryway to his apartment. Yoongi had gradually gone from a closed off, quiet man into an energetic, passionate and honest partner. He was everything you needed in your life. He said the right things, he made you feel special. He was starting to really convince you that maybe moving in would be a good idea. After all, having to split your clothes into two dresses was starting to take its tole on you. The other night, the temperature plummeted outside and you were freezing. So, you started rummaging through dresser drawers, looking for your favorite hoodie. After ten minutes of tearing your room apart, you realized that your warm, cozy hoodie was in fact, folded neatly in your boyfriends dresser fifteen minutes away. And it was only a Tuesday, so you, your hoodie and your boyfriend had two more days to go before you could all be properly reunited.

You had also finally gotten around to getting Yoongi, Gina and Hana in the same room outside of work. You had pleaded with Yoongi for over a week. “But I can tell they don’t like me, baby it’s a waste of time.” Yoongi groaned as he watched you from the couch search through the cabinets in the kitchen. You sighed as you darted your eyes around the inner workings of the cabinet, looking for something to snack on since your dinner reservation wasn’t for another few hours.

“Yoongi come on, they don’t hate you at all. You’re still hung up on that one time Gina got mad at you because she thought you were overworking me. Which, as we all know, was not the case and she gets that now. They’re always asking about you and when exactly I can get everyone informally introduced. Please, please, please say yes!” You begged as you snatched some crackers off a shelf and headed back towards Yoongi on the couch. He silently stared at you, shaking his head in disapproval. Then he let out a deep, dramatic sigh. Your lips curled into a smile, already knowing his response. Over the course of your relationship, you’ve learned a lot of about your boyfriend. What you’ve really enjoyed learning about are those little habits about him that no one else would really pick up on but you. This particular habit was your favorite. When you were winning your case against Yoongi, when he was about to admit defat and cave to your demands, he always let out a really long, dramatic sigh before finally agreeing. And just as you suspected, you had again just won your case.

“Fine, call them and set something up whenever they’re free. We can go out or we can host them here or at your place if you want.” Yoongi murmured as he flipped through the channels on TV. You clapped your hands excitedly as you climbed on top of him, decorating his face with kisses. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was trying to conceal his smile.

So that next weekend, you decided to host your friends over to your apartment. You thought that it would be best to have them over to your apartment, since it’s well, not a rich CEO’s residence, which would have completely shocked them. Your apartment was pretty small, only had one bathroom that had almost no room to move around in, the kitchen had no storage, no counter space, and your bedroom had no windows. Overall, your apartment was the furthest thing from flashy and since you really wanted everyone to solely focus on getting to know each other, you thought you had picked the best location for that to happen since they wouldn’t be able to get sidetracked by Yoongi’s huge apartment.

Yoongi was tucked away in the kitchen, chopping something for a dish you were making as you walked towards the door after hearing the buzzer go off. It’s Gina, called the intercom. “Okay, remember Yoongi, Gina is really sarcastic, so remember to not take anything too literally or personally. She likes to get under people's skin.” You explained to him, praying in your head that everything goes well. Yoongi massaged his temples in frustration. He had been tense since the minute you woke up and you found it heartwarming that he was so nervous to meet your friends. But to be completely honest, you were also nervous deep down. Not so much with your friend Hana, but with Gina. Though you had told your friends two months ago about your relationship and they had seemed supportive, you had left out a tiny detail. After a night in with Gina at her apartment, and after knocking back quite a few drinks as you watched reruns of some show from twenty years ago, Gina had a drunk words, sober thoughts moment.

“Y/N, I really hope you realize how much of a douche your boyfriend is. I just saw him yelling at Mark from accounting the other day in the middle of the hallway. Like, he was really mad. People were looking and everything. I just don’t think someone that can get so aggressive is the right guy for you…Plus, Yoongi and his secretary are way too friendly. everything he says, she's always giggling like an idiot. ” Though you yourself could fall into the category of drunk, you were sober enough to remember what she said, especially the part about the secretary. To be clear, you always knew Yoongi’s secretary didn’t like you. And you were also aware of the fact that there was a good chance the secretary knew that Yoongi and you were dating, mainly because Yoongi was constantly ‘calling you in’ to his office, yet you never worked on anything with him. And you were always conveniently 'summoned' right before lunch started. Every time you’d walk past her desk to get to Yoongi’s office, you could almost feel her eyes burning into the back of your head. But at the end of the day, Yoongi was your boyfriend and not hers and you were secretly happy knowing someone knew of your relationship because deep down, all you wanted to do was be able to interact with Yoongi publicly without the paranoia that came along with seeing him at work.

You were taken out of your thoughts when you a knock at the door. You ran to swing it open and there stood your best friend. You both yelled excitedly as you hugged Gina tightly. You tried to navigate your way around the box of cookies in her hands that she had brought as a gift. “Come in!” You exclaimed as you pulled her inside. “Where’s Hana?” you asked as you took her box of cookies and her coat from her.

“Oh, you didn’t see the messages in the group chat? She’s stuck in traffic. You know…I told her she should’ve moved to the city when she had the chance. Now she’s so far away from everything and it takes forever to get here.” Gina explained as she closed the door and took off her shoes.

“Ugh, well I’ll try to not eat too much until she gets here, I don’t want her to feel left out.” You said as you walked towards the kitchen, Gina following close behind.

“Hi Gina.” Yoongi greeted her awkwardly as he motioned his head back down, going back to chopping vegetables.

“Hey Yoongi, thanks for making time for something like this.” Gina complimented him. “I know you’re busy…” You nudged Gina with your elbow, giving her a look that screamed behave yourself, as you started to set up the table before Hana arrived.

“Yoongi actually canceled something to do this.” You nonchalantly lied as you spread out the cookies Gina brought on a plate. You could see from the corner of your eye that Yoongi was giving you a confused look, which you couldn’t blame him for. You weren’t sure why Gina was so seemingly against your relationship. You knew she was coming from a good place, but you were really happy with Yoongi and you wanted her to see that he was just as serious about you as you were for him.

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Gina teased as she cracked a smile. Perfect, you thought to yourself. By the time Hana got to your apartment, the food was ready and everyone was sitting at the table. Yoongi went around refilling everyone's wine glasses, and Hana gave you a subtle look of approval upon him filling up her glass. It was going really well. He was asking them questions, getting to know them and even making them laugh. “Wait a minute…Yoongi, you paint!” Hana exclaimed as Yoongi shyly nodded.

“Oh you should see some of his paintings, I thought he bought them from a gallery, they look really professional.” You said, squeezing Yoongi’s shoulder. “I actually have one here.” You stood up from your seat, running to hallway to get the painting.

“When’d you get into painting?” Gina asked curiously, taking a sip of her wine. Yoongi relaxed in his seat, squinting his eyes, seemingly thinking back to something.

“I think High School…I took a few art classes and really enjoyed them. I would’ve studied art in college but my parents would’ve been angry.” Both of your friends nodded understandingly as you reentered the room.

“Here it is!” You held up the dark colored canvas. It was a painting of a night sky, one Yoongi had painted while staying over at your apartment. He sat in front of the window for hours. He had been jumpy all day because he had a meeting the next morning, so he decided to paint to take his mind off of his schedule. That was when you learned that he had a creative side to himself. Your friends stood up, getting a closer look at the painting. You could hear a lot of wows and ooo’s as you peered past them, back at your boyfriend. You gave him a wink and he smiled at you.

When your friends settled back down, you could tell that the atmosphere had changed. From earlier in the day where things were quite tense with Gina, to the tipsy laughter of the midafternoon, to now, where it seemed like everyone was truly comfortable. “Okay Yoongi I just have to say, I apologize for doubting you.” Gina blurted out. You looked over at her, confused by the sudden outburst. “I’ve seen how happy you’ve made Y/N over the past few months, but I thought it seemed too good to be true. Plus, she kept the fact that she was seeing you from us for three months and I thought that was a bad sign…But, now I get it. It is a tricky situation considering where we all work.” Hana took a sip of her wine, humming in agreement with Gina.

“I just have to ask though, what really would happen if anyone found out? I mean, you are the CEO, you can’t get fired right?”Hana spoke up, a concerned look on her face.

“No. That wouldn't happen. I’m actually in the middle of negotiating a deal, one where I would be promoted. I’d be overseeing multiple offices if we buy out these other companies. I wouldn’t be at the regular office as much, so I’m thinking our relationship wouldn’t be of much concern since I wouldn’t be at the office as much.” Yoongi explained. You listened closely, because this was all new information to you. However, you stayed silent, not wanting your friends to find out that you had no idea about any of this. “We’re keeping it really quiet right now, no one really knows.”

“Well, that’s great! I hope it all works out.” Gina cheered as she raised her glass to make a toast, she gave you warm smile, before noticing the hesitation behind your expression to return it. You ignored the confusing look from Gina and followed suit, clinking your glass with everyone else’s, but deep down, you were a bit angry with your boyfriend. How could he keep you in the dark on something as big as this.

After a few more hours, you said your goodbyes to your friends and closed the door. You turned around to find Yoongi standing behind you. “It went great right? I think I impressed them.” Yoongi said proudly as he tried to pull you into his embrace.

“Yep, great.” You responded sarcastically as you pushed past him, starting the process of cleaning up the mess from dinner. Yoongi followed behind you, asking what was wrong.

“What happened? Everything went really well…unless I missed something?” He questioned. You let out a frustrated sigh as you placed the dishes in the sink.

“What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. You’re working on buying out other companies, something that could potentially take you to other cities and you just neglected to tell me. And you’ve been working on this for a while? This wasn’t even something that just happened. My friends found out before I did. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have to sit there and pray that you didn’t blurt out that I had no idea about this?” You yelled as you watched him pinch the bridge of his nose, formulating his response.

“I thought it would have been a nice surprise.” Yoongi murmured as he looked at you.

“Well it wasn’t. It makes me think that you have no trust in me. LIke you couldn’t trust me with important information.” You explained to him as you turned on the faucet, starting to scrub the plates.

“So what now? Are you mad at me? Y/N I’m sorry, it’s just been hectic with all the talks of these mergers, I really didn’t think it through.” To that, you didn’t even respond. You weren’t sure why this got you so mad. After all, other than that slip up, the day went well and technically the ultimate goal was to get your friends to bond with your boyfriend. “I don’t care if you stay or leave, I’m just angry that you didn’t at least give me a heads up.” Is all you said as he leaned against the counter.

He did end up staying over that night and by the next morning, you decided to just not bring it up again, but you couldn’t help the doubts that started to reappear in the back of your mind. You wondered if his secretary knew about the mergers. You thought about whether he'd need to move for work. If he would start to travel even more often than he already did. But most importantly you wondered if your relationship was as secure as you had previously thought it was. Does he not trust me?

[ckret2]

on the one hand this feels wildly OOC given every single interaction Spidey's ever had with the symbiote

but on the other hand it would be really funny if they retcon Spidey hating/objectifying Simby for nigh on 30 years into being a big act to suppress & deny his own weird attraction, an attraction he's only beginning to process & acknowledge now that he's "safe" from the "threat" of Symby reciprocating now that it's fully settled down with Eddie.

something something Venom has always been a metaphor (deliberate or unconscious) for taboo (specifically homosexual) desire and you can see that in how the presentation of Venom's inner relationship has evolved over time as social perception of queer relationships has evolved: from outright toxic and insane; to passionately committed and supportive even as it brings them ostracization and horror from the mainstream public; to something they're supposed to be "good" and turn away from to become "healthy"; to something that can be considered "okay" as long as the participants are acting "normal" and upholding good law abiding American values; to something that in and of itself can be loving and healthy and complete, and if it's unhealthy it's because the partners need to work on themselves and not because the kind of relationship they have is something inherently unhealthy; to something they can treat like a marriage and share with the people around them & be accepted and even start a family...

... and if that metaphor extends all the way to "sometimes the guys who express the deepest disgust at that kind of relationship are the guys externalizing their own self-disgust that they need to unlearn," then well, that might be OOC for Spidey, but it sure would track for Venom comics in general.

Whether or not the change sticks, it'll be a fun idea to play around with.

I really don't know what's going on with Spiderman lately xd (spoilers for the latest comics!!)

Last year, the year before last, we saw comics in which Spiderman would gag just by looking at the symbiote, and act like it was the most disgusting thing that exists in the entire universe and now...

Incredible? an absolute feeling of electricity? SEXY??

Spidey you're talking about a married symbiote! With kids!

I do ship them tho... But even I have a filter where I can recognize what's canon and what's just nonsense my head creates because making ships is fun. So I can recognize that whatever's going on here is completely and totally out of character. Spider-Man would NEVER, EVER. From the second he discovered his "suit" was actually a living being, he tried to remove it from moment one. Even risking his own life to do so.

I don't know which writer or writers are in the latest Spiderman comics. But they are totally SpiderSymby lovers. There is no other logical explanation for what is happening here xd

What I find funniest is that they aren't even reciprocating. Symby chose to go back to their husband and son rather than stay with Spidey.

Spidey is like "damn, it was so cool to be reunited with the symbiote, I wonder if he feels the way I feel." and Symby is just happy because their back with their "perfect family".

Because this is also the first time we've seen Spiderman act this way. The last time he teamed up with the symbiote that I can remember was this one. And their interaction was not friendly.

still called them "suit"

and generally found it unpleasant to have to use the symbiote.

I wonder what happened there. Maybe the power of the King in Black makes you gay or something... Yeah, that must be

[velvet4510]

Wolverine, Cyclops, and Learning to Respect Your Rival in Love

I have thoughts on Logan and Scott’s relationship in the Fox films. (I’ve never read the comics; this is strictly a commentary on the movie-verse.)

I always say ship and let ship. If you wanna look at these two through shipper’s goggles, fine. I won’t stop you.

But when I look at these two, I don’t really see something shippy. I see something actually quite remarkable, something that is very rarely depicted between rivals in an onscreen love triangle, and something that speaks to Logan’s incredible character development.

We are used to love triangles where the rivals despise each other to the point of competing, name-calling, fistfighting, and even duels to the death. Two people who have the same love interest are stereotyped time and again in fiction as bitter enemies who don’t care about the other’s wellbeing at all.

But Logan and Scott are different. Logan’s feelings toward Scott have a total 180 arc throughout the series, and it’s a phenomenal piece of character growth to witness.

X1 and X2

It’s no secret that they start off very jealous of each other and there is a mutual dislike as a result. They both want Jean. Logan is upset that Scott already has Jean, and Scott is upset that Logan is trying to steal her away. And let’s be honest, Logan is pretty disrespectful to both Jean and Scott’s feelings in the first two films. He shows no shame in flirting with Scott’s girlfriend in front of him and trying to get her to cheat on Scott when Scott has been kidnapped. When Jean insists she loves Scott, Logan just asks “do you?” as though she doesn’t mean it, and then kisses her despite her saying no. His desperation for love and attention makes him disregard and try to ruin Jean and Scott’s committed relationship. It’s not good behavior, and it’s probably Logan’s greatest character flaw in X1 and X2. Scott has every right to hate Logan for this.

But then something changes.

Then Jean disappears and is presumed dead.

Suddenly Logan and Scott have something in common. Suddenly they both are thrown into unimaginable grief and agony. Suddenly they are sharing something.

And then Logan comes clean with Scott. “She did make a choice. She chose you.” Finally, he understands Scott and says something respectful to him.

The Last Stand

And then a few years later, Jean reappears, not herself, and it is Scott who vanishes. Suddenly Jean is not only alive, but kissing Logan just as he has always desired. He becomes lost in the passion for a moment, because omg this is it, she changed her mind, she wants me, miracles do happen … The Logan of X1 and X2 would’ve gone all the way with Jean/Phoenix with zero hesitation.

But then Logan does something incredibly admirable and mature.

He stops.

He lets himself think, and he realizes: This isn’t Jean. The Jean he knew committed herself to Scott. The Jean he knew loved Scott, not him. This is wrong. She’s suddenly making a move on him, with no mention of Scott? This can’t be right.

So he asks what happened to Scott.

Scott, a man who Logan once dreamed of getting out of his way, is now a man whose life actually matters to Logan.

Then the rest of The Last Stand happens, and everything falls apart.

Days of Future Past

And then comes the greatest test that Logan has ever faced when it comes to this messy love triangle.

He travels back in time to change history. Back to a time before Jean and Scott ever met, before he ever met them. He finds himself sitting before a young Charles, the man who introduced Jean and Scott in the first place, wbo introduced him to his beloved Jean and to Scott in the first place. A young Charles who has read his mind and seen his memories of his love for Jean.

And here, right in front of him, is an opportunity to get what he would’ve done anything to get in X1 and X2. A chance to perhaps prevent Charles from ever introducing Jean and Scott, so he can be with Jean in the new future. To not tell Charles about Scott, to only tell him the names of Jean and his other friends like Storm to ensure they are still with the X-Men in the future.

But instead? He says this:

“Promise me you’ll find us. Storm. Scott. Jean. Remember those names.”

He mentions Scott! He mentions the man who he once envied, who held Jean’s heart and held onto it even as Logan gave his own heart to her. A man whose life and future he has now learned to appreciate and grow protective of.

He lets go of his jealousy, of his resentment, of his own desires. He honors Jean and Scott’s feelings, not his own.

He makes sure that Jean and Scott will still meet in the new timeline, that Charles will still bring them together, that their love will still grow this time around.

Then he goes back to the future and finds that it worked beyond his expectations. The Last Stand never happened. Jean and Scott are alive, well, and together.

In the end, Logan finally understands that Jean and Scott truly belong to each other, and that he was wrong to get in the middle, and so he sets off the domino effect that ultimately creates true happiness for Jean and Scott.

Logan changes from prioritizing his own feelings to prioritizing Jean and Scott’s feelings. He goes from trying to break up Jean and Scott, to personally ensuring that Jean and Scott still find each other even when history itself has changed.

Rather than destroy his rival in love, Logan instead ensures his rival’s salvation.

If that isn’t character development, I don’t know what is.

[percyweasleyapologist]

Here's some reasons to write/love Percy x Penelope x Oliver

@guess1mjustheren0w, this is for you :)

OKAY, so basically we know that Oliver and Percy are both extremely passionate about their (subjects? hobbies? y'know what i'm talking about). They both want to be the top, BUT, they aren't competing. We also don't ever hear any mention of anyone else in their grade level.

Percy is especially stuck up and Oliver is kind of all over the place (not when it comes to quidditch, but just life in general). From this, we can assume that they probably argued quite a bit, or at least until they got used to each other. This means that their passion clashes in a contained environment, causing tension.

This is kind of the base of Percy x Oliver, kind of an Enemies to Lovers vibe, but also a forced proximity.

THEN for Percy and Penny, Percy isn't quite introverted, but not quite extroverted, while I headcanon that Penny is more on the extroverted side. Penelope brings out the "rebellious" or more laidback side of Percy, while he bring out the more thoughtful or peaceful side of her.

I'm not really sure how to explain it but kind of imagine a scene where they're in a dorm, no one else around, there's a fire going, it's super cozy, they're laying down and Percy is talking about something he's super passionate about. Penny is just looking up at him with that gaze, the one where it's just full of love, and she's just smiling and they're happy.

Percelope (Percy x Penelope) is more of a sweet, dancing in the rain, running through fields sort of ship. They match each others intellectual abilities and are just so cute.

FINALLY, Penny and Oliver. I don't know the ship name but I definitely see potential. Most of it does revolve around Percy, but i think that makes a ship with all three of them work even better.

So Penny and Oliver are both really important people in Percy's life. They both love him very much and with the other one still in the picture, I think they'd first kind of hate each other. Not really hate actually, more like a strong rivalry.

They both want Percy, and are both going to get what they want. They probably argue a lot, they glare at each other, they make snarky remarks and comments, but at the end of the day, that's what fuels their relationship.

Penny and Oliver have a Rivals to Lovers vibe. They like to rib each other about things, but their rivalry converts into fiery passion (that sounds weird but idk what else to call it) over time.

I feel like they have the kind of love that it's like two teammates in a sport, they both play the same position and are equally as good. It's like that moment right before the game when they look at each other and just smirk and say "i'll score more point a than you", but in the end, they both win because they're on the same team.

They both love the sport (percy), but they love each other equally as much.

All of them fit together because they all balance each other out. Percy's want, combined with Oliver's need, and Penelope's desire, it all balances out. They're like different version of the same person, but they're different enough, so that they still understand each other, but aren't the same person with the same personalities.

So yeah, that's it! If you write something, let me know what it's called! :)

I'll also try to find the post that made me think of it bc i think it does a great job of describing it pretty well!