#new sanctuary coalition

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Like her or not, we're now on the same side and this woman knows what she's talking about. She suggests actionable steps steps we must take to win ourcountry back from the fascists.

From Liz Cheney

Dear Democratic Party,

I need more from you. You keep sending emails begging for $15,while we’re watching fascism consolidate power in real time. This administration is not simply “a different ideology.” It is a coordinated, authoritarian machine — with the Supreme Court, the House, the Senate, and the executive pen all under its control. And you? You’re still asking for decorum and donations. WTF. That won’t save us. I don’t want to hear another polite floor speech. I want strategy. I want fire. I want action so bold it shifts the damn news cycle — not fits inside one. Every time I see something from the DNC, it’s asking me for funds.

Surprise. Those of us who donate don’t want to keep sending money just to watch you stand frozen as the Constitution goes up in flames — shaking your heads and saying, “Well, there’s not much we can do. He has the majority.” I call bullshit. If you don’t know how to think outside the box… If you don’t know how to strategize… If you don’t know how to fight fire with fire… what the hell are we giving you money for? Some of us have two or three advanced degrees. Some of us have military training. Some of us know what coordinated resistance looks like — and this ain’t it. Yes, the tours around the country? Nice. The speeches? Nice. The clever congressional clapbacks? Nice. That was great for giving hope. Now we need action.

You have to stop acting like this is a normal presidency that will just time out in four years. We’re not even at Day 90, and look at the chaos. Look at the disappearances. Look at the erosion of the judiciary, the press, and our rights. If you do not stop this, we will not make it 1,460 days. So here’s what I need from you — right now:

⸻

1. Form an independent, civilian-powered investigative coalition.

I’m talking experts. Veterans. Whistleblowers. Journalists. Watchdog orgs. Deputize the resistance. Build a real-time archive of corruption, overreach, and executive abuse. Make it public. Make it unshakable. Let the people drag the rot into the light. If you can’t hold formal hearings, hold public ones. If Congress won’t act, let the country act. This isn’t about optics — it’s about receipts. Because at some point, these people will be held accountable. And when that day comes, we’ll need every name, every signature, every illegal order, every act of silence—documented. You’re not just preserving truth — you’re preparing evidence for prosecution. The more they vanish people and weaponize data, the more we need truth in the sunlight.

⸻

2. Join the International Criminal Court.

Yes, I said it. Call their bluff. You cannot control what the other side does. But you can control your own integrity. So prove it. Prove that your party is still grounded in law, human rights, and ethical leadership. Join. If you’ve got nothing to hide — join. Show the world who’s hiding bodies, bribes, and buried bank accounts. Force the GOP to explain why they’d rather protect a war criminal than sign a treaty. And while you’re at it, publicly invite ICC observers into U.S. borders. Make this administration explain — on camera — why they’re terrified of international oversight.

⸻

3. Fund state-level resistance infrastructure.

Don’t just send postcards. Send resources. Channel DNC funds into rapid-response teams, legal defense coalitions, sanctuary networks, and digital security training. If the federal government is hijacked, build power underneath it. If the laws become tools of oppression, help people resist them legally, locally, and boldly. This is not campaign season — this is an authoritarian purge. Stop campaigning. Act like this is the end of democracy, because it is. We WILL REMEMBER the warriors come primaries. Fighting this regime should be your marketing strategy.

And let’s be clear:

The reason the other side always seems three steps ahead is because they ARE. They prepared for this. They infiltrated school boards, courts, local legislatures, and police unions. They built a machine while you wrote press releases. We’re reacting — they’ve been executing a plan for years. It’s time to shift from panic to blueprint. You should already be working with strategists and military minds on PROJECT 2029 — a coordinated, long-term plan to rebuild this country when the smoke clears.

You should be publicly laying out:

• The laws and amendments you’ll pass to ensure this never happens again• The systems you’ll tear down and the safeguards you’ll enshrine • The plan to hold perpetrators of human atrocities accountable • The urgent commitment to immediately bring home those sold into slavery in El Salvador You say you’re the party of the people? Then show the people the plan.

⸻

4. Use your platform to educate the public on rights and resistance tactics.

If they’re going to strip us of rights and lie about it — arm the people with truth. Text campaigns. Mass trainings. Downloadable “Know Your Rights” kits. Multilingual legal guides. Encrypted phone trees. Give people tools, not soundbites. We don’t need more slogans. We need survival manuals.

⸻

5. Leverage international media and watchdogs.

Stop hoping U.S. cable news will wake up. They’re too busy playing both sides of fascism. Feed the real stories to BBC, Al Jazeera, The Guardian, Reuters, Der Spiegel — hell, leak them to anonymous dropboxes if you have to. Make what’s happening in America a global scandal. And stop relying on platforms that are actively suppressing truth. Start leveraging Substack. Use Bluesky. That’s where the resistance is migrating. That’s where censorship hasn’t caught up. If the mainstream won’t carry the truth — outflank them. Get creative. Go underground. Go global. If our democracy is being dismantled in broad daylight, make sure the whole world sees it — and make sure we’re still able to say it.

⸻

6. Create a digital safe haven for whistleblowers and defectors.

Not everyone inside this regime is loyal. Some are scared. Some want out. Build the channels. Encrypted. Anonymous. Protected. Make it easy for the cracks in the system to become gaping holes. And while you’re at it? Stop ostracizing MAGA defectors. Everyone makes mistakes — even glaring, critical ones. We are not the bullies. We are not the ones filled with hate. And it is not your job to shame people who finally saw the fire and chose to step out of it. They will have to deal with that internal struggle — the guilt of putting a very dangerous and callous regime in power. But they’re already outnumbered. Don’t push them back into the crowd. We don’t need purity. We need numbers. We need people willing to burn their red hats and testify against the machine they helped build.

⸻

7. Study the collapse—and the comeback.

You should be learning from South Korea and how they managed their brief rule under dictatorship. They didn’t waste time chasing the one man with absolute immunity. They went after the structure. The aides. The enforcers. The loyalists. The architects. They knocked out the foundation one pillar at a time — until the “strongman” had no one left to stand on. And his power crumbled beneath him. You should be independently investigating every author of Project 2025, every aide who defies court orders, every communications director repeating lies, every policy writer enabling cruelty, every water boy who keeps this engine running. You can’t stop a regime by asking the king to sit down. You dismantle the throne he’s standing on — one coward at a time.

⸻

Stop being scared to fight dirty when the other side is fighting to erase the damn Constitution.

They are threatening to disappear AMERICANS. A M E R I C A N S. And your biggest move can’t be another strongly worded email. We don’t want your urgently fundraising subject lines. We want backbone. We want action. We want to know you’ll stand up before we’re all ordered to sit down — permanently. We are watching. And I don’t just mean your base. I mean millions of us who see exactly what’s happening. I’ve only got 6,000 followers — but the groups I’m in? The networks I touch? Over a quarter million. Often when I speak, it echoes. But when we ALL speak, it ROARS with pressure that will cause change. We need to be deafening. You still have a chance to do something historic. To be remembered for courage, not caution. To go down as the party that didn’t just watch the fall — but fought the hell back with everything they had.

But the clock is ticking.

And the deportation buses are idling.

* * * *

UPDATE AND NOTE:

I have received (what seems like) several hundred copies of a document allegedly authored by Liz Cheney entitled, “Democrats, I need more from you.” The “letter” was not authored by Cheney, but by someone who does not appear to have a readily identifiable profile as a pro-democracy activist. The purported author, “Dr. Pru Lee,” may not be the real identity of the author.

Setting aside the mysterious source of the letter, it has struck a chord with many Democrats. Indeed, many of the copies forwarded to me are accompanied by emails that express some sense of satisfaction that the author has criticized the Democratic Party for its failures and laid out a sensible plan for a path forward.

I suspect the letter was written by a Democratic consultant or insider who is upset with the progressive wing of the party and/or the grassroots movement. The author says, in part,

Yes, the tours around the country? Nice. The speeches? Nice. The clever congressional clapbacks? Nice. That was great for giving hope. Now we need action Don’t just send postcards. Send resources.

Many of the “recommendations” in the letter aren’t realistic—either in a reasonable timeframe or ever. For example, the letter demands the Democratic Party

Form an independent, civilian-powered investigative coalition. Deputize the resistance. Join the International Criminal Court. Fund state-level resistance infrastructure. Stop campaigning. You [the Democratic Party] should be publicly laying out: • The laws and amendments you’ll pass to ensure this never happens again • The systems you’ll tear down and the safeguards you’ll enshrine • The plan to hold perpetrators of human atrocities accountable.

I endorse the author’s passion and understand how the author has managed to channel the anger of rank-and-file Democrats toward their party. But it simply isn’t productive or helpful during this moment of crisis to devote our resources to attacking the Democratic Party.

Here’s a thought experiment: If you have forwarded the above letter to your closest one hundred friends and relatives, try drafting a sequel that begins, “Dear Republicans, I need more from you . . . .”

The virtue of the “Dear Republicans” version of the letter is that it shifts the focus to where it belongs: On those who are enabling Trump, rather than on those who are resisting him.

Is the resistance perfect? No. Is the Democratic Party perfect? No. Are congressional Democrats perfect? No. But compared to their Republican counterparts, Democrats look like heroes of democracy, warts and all.

Democrats aren’t the problem. They are the solution. Be part of the solution. We can sort out the credits and debits after we reclaim democracy!

[Robert B. Hubbell]

[mariacallous]

Three major Jewish religious denominations are suing the Department of Homeland Security to stop immigration raids at houses of worship.

The suit, filed Tuesday in federal court in Washington, D.C., was brought by dozens of religious groups including the governing bodies of the Reform, Conservative and Reconstructionist movements. The other groups represent a range of Christian denominations. They are challenging the Trump administration’s reversal of an order that prohibited Immigration and Customs Enforcement from operating in “sensitive locations” such as churches and synagogues.

The order means that undocumented immigrants fearing arrest can no longer seek sanctuary at houses of worship. Tuesday’s lawsuit hopes to restore the “sensitive locations” policy.

“The new policy thus greenlights enforcement actions that could interrupt religious services in furtherance of the Administration’s mass deportation plans,” reads a press release about the lawsuit, which was filed by Georgetown University’s Institute for Constitutional Advocacy and Protection.

Through the order, the statement added, “the government is interfering with their religious activities and their ability to fulfill their religious mandate to welcome and serve immigrants.”

During Trump’s first term, a number of synagogues sheltered immigrants at risk of deportation, and a broad range of Jewish groups spoke out or took action against his immigration restrictions. Some of those coalitions are mobilizing now, as Trump places a broad immigration crackdown at the center of his agenda. Tuesday’s lawsuit follows a letter signed by dozens of groups — including the leadership of the same three movements — opposing Trump’s planned mass deportations.

“Throughout Jewish history, we have known the hardship and persecution of living as immigrants,” Rabbi Rick Jacobs, who helms the Union for Reform Judaism, said in a statement. “We are inspired by those experiences across the generations, as well as the repeated biblical commandment to welcome the stranger, to ensure that our congregations remain places where immigrants — including those who may be undocumented — can enter to worship, seek pastoral counsel, learn, socialize, obtain needed services and support, or to act as caregivers for those who do.”

The lawsuit comes on the heels of another suit in which HIAS, the Jewish refugee aid and advocacy group, partnered with other resettlement agencies to challenge the Trump administration’s suspension of refugee resettlement.

[magnagaruzenmon]

Hybrid Theory VII

A rare double feature with our new collaborator.

Agent Dio stepped out of the transport vehicle, gazing up at the newly remodeled Animus Apartments. The building loomed over him, sleek and modern, a stark contrast to its turbulent history. It was now a sanctuary for hybrids, a place where they could live freely without the prying eyes of the government or the looming shadow of war.

At least, that’s what the residents believed.

Dio adjusted the straps of his duffel bag, his orders replaying in his head. Monitor and assess. Establish trust. And if necessary—neutralize Asset 007.

Doflamingo.

Dio had read the reports, seen the footage. If even half the classified files were true, subduing Doflamingo wasn’t just a bad idea—it was suicidal. But the Coalition of Neo-Human Affairs didn’t care about that. They saw a threat, and threats had to be controlled.

He sighed. Babysitting a walking apocalypse. Great.

Stepping through the front entrance, Dio immediately felt the weight of predatory eyes on him.

Behind the security desk stood a direwolf-lion hybrid, his golden mane streaked with silver, piercing amber eyes locked onto Dio with a silent challenge. He was big—easily over six and a half feet—and built like a battering ram.

The hybrid’s nostrils flared as he took in Dio’s scent, his sharp gaze flicking down to the 2 kukris strapped neatly across Dio’s belt.

The hybrid’s deep voice cut through the air. “What are the knives for?”

Dio, who was earnest to a fault, answered without hesitation. “Deterrents. So hybrids or humans don’t attack me randomly.”

The security head’s stare hardened, his body coiled with unspoken tension.

Dio wasn’t sure if the hybrid was about to lunge at him or throw him out, but before the situation could escalate, a blur of movement crashed into his back.

“Ah Dio hyung! You made it safely!”

A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, nearly knocking him off balance. Dio barely had time to react before he was greeted by a familiar eye-smile.

Yujin.

A dog hybrid with boundless energy, Yujin beamed up at him, her tail wagging slightly as she released her grip. She turned to the security officer, exuding casual confidence.

“Relax, big guy! He’s with me.”

The hybrid’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You know this man?”

Yujin’s smile didn’t waver. “Yeah, Dioyoza is my old college buddy.” She threw an arm around Dio’s shoulder, pulling him in like they were lifelong friends. “He’s moving in today—apartment 205.”

Dio didn’t correct her.

The security officer exhaled sharply but gave a reluctant nod. “Fine. But I’ll be watching.”

With that, he returned to his post, though his gaze lingered on Dio a moment longer before shifting away.

As soon as they were a few steps out of earshot, Dio sighed. “Really Dioyoza? That's not my name, and College buddies? Yujin I'm like 5 years older than you,”

Yujin grinned. “What? It was the easiest lie. Besides, if I said work, he’d get suspicious.”

Dio shook his head. “Right. Because me showing up armed to a hybrid-friendly apartment complex doesn’t already scream ‘suspicious.’”

Yujin waved him off. “Please, you’ll fit in just fine. Just… maybe don’t go on about your deterrents next time.”

Dio exhaled, rolling his shoulders. This mission was already off to an exhausting start.

And he hadn’t even met Doflamingo yet.

After arriving at his new pseudo-home, Dio barely had the energy to unpack before exhaustion caught up with him. The long flight from his previous assignment to this city had drained him, and the couch in his sparsely furnished apartment was inviting enough. He let himself sink into it, arms folded behind his head, and closed his eyes.

It felt like minutes had passed before a sharp knock on the door jolted him awake. Dio groaned, rubbing his eyes before pushing himself off the couch. He wasn’t expecting visitors. Then again, he wasn’t just any new tenant—someone was bound to come checking.

He opened the door, and standing before him was a chimeric hybrid with electric-yellow eyes, narrowed and focused. She was smaller than he expected but carried herself with confidence, like she belonged here more than anyone else.

Dio didn’t need an introduction. He recognized her instantly from the mission brief. Asa.

The former owner and landlord of Animus Apartments. Before the current investors stepped in, she had been the one overseeing the complex. And despite no longer being in charge, she still seemed to think of it as her territory.

“So,” Asa said, crossing her arms. “You’re the spy?”

Dio blinked at her bluntness. No hesitation. No pretense of politeness. He liked that.

“Yep,” he said, leaning against the doorframe with an easy grin. “Dioyoza. Resident ‘human’ at your service.”

Asa stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly burst into laughter.

“You’re not like the other spies,” she said, shaking her head. “You seem less serious. I like that. We could use some levity here.” Her gaze flicked to his wrist, where intricate black markings wrapped around his skin. “Huh. What’s that?”

“Tattoos.”

Asa tilted her head, unconvinced. “I thought it was something else, the way you put human in air quotes earlier.”

Dio smirked. “Oh, that? It’s because I’m a Variant.”

Asa’s eyes widened slightly. “A Variant?”

He nodded. “Surprised? I thought hybrids like you weren’t afraid of myths.”

“I thought Variants were just myths.”

Dio shrugged. “Not anymore.” His expression remained lighthearted, but his next words carried an edge of warning. “So, stay in line. I’d hate to hurt someone so nice.”

Asa laughed again, oblivious to the severity behind his words. “You’ll fit right in,” she said, flashing him a grin before stepping back. But just as she turned to leave, she added over her shoulder—

“I’ll keep Doffy and me in line, Dio.”

Dio watched her go, his smirk fading slightly. Doffy, huh?

His target just got more interesting.

After his nap and a bit more unpacking. Dio had settled into his apartment, and decided it was time to introduce himself to the neighbors. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be received—after all, he was the only the second “human” in the complex, and hybrids had every reason to be wary of outsiders. But if he was going to complete his mission without drawing suspicion, he needed to build some level of trust.

He stepped out of his unit and into the hallway, where he immediately spotted a hamster hybrid struggling to carry a towering stack of grocery bags.

“Uh, you need some help with that?” Dio asked, watching as the top bag started to wobble dangerously.

The hamster hybrid, a petite woman with soft brown fur dusting her arms and large, round ears, huffed. “I got it, I got it—”

One of the bags tipped, and a bag of sunflower seeds tumbled to the floor.

Dio scooped it up before it rolled too far. “Right. You got it.” He handed the bag back to her.

She pouted before sighing. “Okay, maybe I don’t. Thanks, new guy.”

“Dio,” he introduced himself.

“Sana,” she replied. “Welcome to the Animus Apartments. Watch your ankles—I’m faster than I look.”

Dio smirked. “Noted.”

Further down the hall, Dio knocked on a door that was slightly ajar. A cat hybrid with golden eyes peeked out, ears flicking as she looked him up and down.

“Who are you?” she asked bluntly.

“Dio. Just moved in. Figured I should introduce myself.”

The cat hybrid, Soyeon, gave him an unimpressed once-over before shrugging. “Hmph. Well, don’t be loud, don’t leave food out, and don’t try to pet me unless I say so.”

Dio chuckled. “Got it.”

Just as he was about to leave, another door swung open, revealing a lynx hybrid with striking blue-gray fur and piercing eyes.

“Yujin’s new human friend, huh?” she said, leaning against her doorframe with a knowing smirk.

“You must be Karina,” Dio guessed.

Karina’s smirk widened. “She’s been talking about me, huh?”

Dio raised a brow. “She might have mentioned you.”

Karina chuckled. “Good. Welcome to the complex, Dio. Try not to make too much trouble, unless it’s fun trouble.”

Next, Dio ran into Michael, an eagle hybrid with sharp eyes and an even sharper wit.

“You’re the human?” Michael asked, his feathers ruffling slightly.

“Kinda sorta,” Dio replied dryly.

Michael grinned. “Good. We need someone to finally take the trash out when it piles up. The smaller hybrids complain it’s too heavy, and the bigger ones are lazy.”

“Noted,” Dio deadpanned.

Jo, a komodo dragon hybrid, leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jo muttered. “Michael just likes to mess with new people.”

Michael laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

Dio continued down the hall and knocked on another door. It creaked open slightly, revealing a bunny hybrid with fluffy white ears, eyes glued to the TV screen.

He caught a glimpse of bright, fast-paced action—an anime fight scene.

“You’re watching King’s Might?” Dio blurted out before he could stop himself.

The bunny hybrid, Heejin, turned to him with wide eyes. “You know King’s Might?”

Dio smirked. “I don’t just know it—I’ve rewatched it three times.”

Heejin gasped, scooting over to make room on the couch. “Okay, sit down. Who’s your favorite character?”

Dio hesitated for maybe a second before dropping onto the couch. “General Raiken. Easy.”

“Yessss!” Heejin beamed. “Finally, someone with taste!”

The two immediately launched into a deep-dive discussion about their favorite fights, character arcs, and theories for the upcoming season.

By the time Dio reached the end of the hall, he was feeling more at ease. That’s when he met Sullyoon and Ryujin, two roommates who immediately gave off wildly different energies.

Sullyoon, a doe hybrid, was soft-spoken and gentle, with big brown eyes that radiated warmth. “Oh, hi! You must be new.”

“Yeah, Dio,” he introduced himself.

Ryujin, a lion hybrid, gave him a lazy grin. “You a music guy, Dio?”

Dio shrugged. “Depends on the genre.”

Ryujin’s smirk widened. “Rock?”

That got Dio’s attention. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Sullyoon clapped her hands together. “Ryujin has a ridiculous collection of records. You two will probably get along.”

Dio and Ryujin exchanged a knowing look.

“I’ve got some vinyls you need to hear,” Ryujin said.

Dio smirked. “You bring the records, I’ll bring the whiskey.”

Sullyoon giggled. “Oh boy. This is the start of something dangerous.”

While Dioyoza was out meeting his new neighbors, his apartment was far from peaceful. Yujin paced near the couch, arms crossed, tail flicking in irritation, while Wonyoung the white-naped crane hybrid sat stiffly at the small dining table, her long fingers tapping impatiently against the surface.

“This isn’t what we signed up for, Yujin,” Wonyoung hissed, voice low but sharp. “We’re supposed to be monitoring Doflamingo, keeping the hybrids in check—not befriending them.”

Yujin rolled her eyes. “And what? We go in guns blazing the moment someone steps out of line? Newsflash, Wonyoung: we’re not a kill squad. Our job is to integrate, and that means building trust.”

Wonyoung scoffed. “Trust? With people like him? With people who could rip you apart in seconds? We don’t even know what he’s planning!”

Yujin let out an exasperated sigh. “Dio trusts them.”

“Well, Dio doesn't take this seriously”

At that exact moment, the door swung open, and Dio walked in, still humming a rock song from his conversation with Sullyoon and Ryujin. He immediately felt the tension in the room. Yujin’s ears were twitching with frustration, and Wonyoung’s jaw was tight, her arms crossed like a barrier. Dio sighed inwardly—this was going to take some work.

“Alright, alright, what did I miss?” Dio asked, kicking the door shut behind him. “You two look like you’re about to reenact a telenovela.”

Yujin huffed. “Wonyoung thinks we’re supposed to be watching, not engaging.”

“And Yujin thinks making friends is the key to our mission,” Wonyoung snapped back.

Dio clapped his hands together, stepping between them. “Okay, let’s take a breath. First off, you’re both right—yes, we need to be vigilant, but we also need to understand the people we’re watching. And you don’t do that by sitting in a corner glaring at them.” He turned to Wonyoung, his tone patient but firm. “You’re afraid, and I get it. Some of these people have pasts that make our bosses nervous. But what’s going to keep this place stable—a bunch of agents looking over their shoulders, or a community that trusts we’re here to help, not just police them?”

Wonyoung opened her mouth to argue but hesitated.

Dio turned to Yujin. “And you—trust is important, yeah, but we do have a mission. We can’t pretend we’re just here to hang out. If something goes south, we need to be ready to act.”

Yujin sighed, rubbing her temple.

Dio softened his voice. “Look, I know you both want to do the right thing. So let’s meet in the middle. We observe, we report, but we also engage—smartly. If Doflamingo or anyone else is a threat, we’ll know because we put in the work to understand them, not because we stood back and watched from a distance. Deal?”

Yujin was the first to nod. Wonyoung followed after a long pause, though her expression was still skeptical.

Dio grinned. “Great. Now, let’s all take a deep breath and—”

A knock interrupted him.

Yujin perked up. “That might be Karina,” she said, suddenly eager to leave.

Dio raised a brow but smirked. “Oh? Should I let her know how much you talk about her?”

Yujin turned bright red. “I hate you.”

Dio chuckled as she hurried to the door, Wonyoung rolling her eyes but visibly more relaxed.

One Mission accomplished.

Dio stepped into the elevator, stretching his arms as he let out a small yawn. He’d spent the last few days settling into the apartment complex, getting a feel for the residents, and making himself known in a way that didn’t scream government plant. Now, it was time to introduce himself to Doflamingo, the so-called “Asset 007.”

As he pressed the button for Doflamingo’s floor, he barely registered the presence of someone else in the elevator until his eyes caught a glimpse of her shirt.

Ultraman.

Dio immediately forgot whatever he was supposed to be doing.

“Ohhh, no way! That’s an Ultraman shirt!” He practically beamed, eyes lighting up as he turned to face her. “That’s a classic! Are you a fan of the older series, or are you into the newer stuff too?”

The woman blinked at him, clearly caught off guard by his sudden enthusiasm. She was tall, lean but muscular, with a coat of sleek, fur that pointed to her being a coyote hybrid. Her dark brown eyes flicked between Dio and the elevator panel, as if gauging whether she had time to escape this unexpected conversation.

Still, she responded, though her voice was a bit hesitant. “Uh… both?”

“Nice, nice, respect.” Dio nodded, already rolling into the next topic. “Are we talking Ultra Seven and Leo levels of classics, or are we leaning into Trigger and Blazar territory?”

Magenta hesitated. This guy was way too excited for an elevator chat. Her tail flicked once, a subconscious sign of tension, but she still answered, “Bit of everything… but I probably lean more towards the modern era.”

Dio placed a hand over his heart, looking deeply moved. “A woman of culture. You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Magenta’s ears twitched, confused but mildly amused. She wasn’t used to people being so open—so big—with their emotions right away. It was… a lot. She wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“Right.” She nodded, shifting slightly away but not outright rejecting the conversation. “You… live here?”

“Oh, yeah! Just moved in a few days ago.” Dio extended his hand without thinking. “Dioyoza, but everyone calls me Dio. Resident ‘human’—quotation marks very necessary.”

Magenta stared at his hand, debating for a second before shaking it briefly. “Magenta.”

“Ooh, cool name. Very distinct. Very fitting.” He let go of her hand but didn’t let go of the conversation. “So, do you just casually wear Ultraman shirts, or are you a true tokusatsu fan?”

Magenta exhaled through her nose, feeling the weight of Dio’s full attention on her. He wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t forcing anything, but his sheer intensity was a lot to deal with in a confined space. Still, she couldn’t deny he was earnest.

“…I watch Kamen Rider too,” she admitted, as if it were some kind of secret.

Dio gasped so loudly that the elevator practically echoed. “No way.”

Magenta winced at the noise. “Way.”

“What’s your favorite series?”

The doors slid open before she could answer. Magenta quickly stepped out, glancing over her shoulder. “I’ll… let you know next time.”

Before Dio could respond, the doors shut, leaving him alone in the elevator.

It was only then that he realized—

“…Wait, what was I doing?” forgetting what he was doing Dio headed back to his apartment and went over the mission files.

A few days later, Dio ended up at a nearby café after giving his weekly report to his supervising officer, Mrs. Kwon. He hadn’t planned to linger, but the food was good, and the quiet hum of the place made it easy to relax—at least, as much as someone like him could relax.

Then Magenta waltzed in.

Dio wasn’t nervous.

Okay, maybe he was a little nervous.

Magenta—the coyote hybrid who had completely turned his mind to mush during their first encounter—hadn’t exactly invited him to meet up. But he had happened to find himself at the same café she frequented, and when she acknowledged him with a slight nod instead of immediately leaving, he took that as an opening.

So now, here they were—Magenta, sitting across from him with her arms crossed, watching him like she was still trying to figure out what his deal was, while Dio… well, Dio was talking.

A lot.

“So you have seen Ultraman, right? I mean, you were wearing the shirt, but I feel like some people just wear them because they look cool—which, fair—but if you actually like it, we can talk about how wild it is that they made Shin Ultraman but haven’t done a full Sentai reboot with the same level of production because—”

Magenta blinked at him, tilting her head slightly. He had barely taken a breath.

Dio caught himself and laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, sorry—sometimes I get going and forget to slow down.”

Magenta hummed, eyeing him. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

He grinned. “What, talk too much?”

“Feel too much.”

Dio blinked. That was… not what he was expecting.

Magenta didn’t say it as an insult. It was just an observation. She rested her chin on her palm, tail flicking lazily behind her. “You’ve got big emotions. Big everything. The way you talk, the way you move, the way you feel—it’s a lot.”

Dio considered that for a second. “Is that bad? Does that bother you?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her golden-brown eyes studied him, her ears twitching slightly.

It didn’t bother her. Not exactly. She just wasn’t used to it.

Most people, when faced with her sharp edges and quiet wariness, backed off. Dio? He leaned in.

He very rarely could pivot socially, and instead of adjusting to others, he had learned that owning his presence usually got him what he wanted. It was a method of pushing forward instead of stepping back, and it made his “big way of being” even bigger.

Not in an overbearing way. Just enough that it made her unsure what to do with him.

Magenta sighed, stretching her arms above her head. “Dunno yet,” she said finally. “Still figuring you out.”

Dio nodded, accepting that answer like it was the most natural thing in the world. “That’s fair. But for the record, I’m a great person to figure out.”

Magenta snorted. “That so?”

“Absolutely,” Dio said with full confidence. “For instance—” he gestured at her “—I already know you’re cool. Because you’re an Ultraman fan, and that automatically gives you, like, fifteen credibility points in my book.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a twitch of amusement at the corner of her lips.

Dio grinned. “So, what’s your favorite series?”

Magenta tapped her fingers against the table. “Ultra Seven,” she admitted.

Dio gasped dramatically, gripping his chest. “I knew you had taste. That’s a great one. Personally, I love Z and Taiga to death.”

Magenta huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. Then, as she lifted her drink, her gaze flicked to his arm—where a small, almost familiar emblem was inked onto his skin.

She couldn’t place it, but something about it nagged at her.

Before she could ask, Dio mentioned Ginga in passing, and Magenta immediately latched onto it.

“You think Ginga is underaged?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in mock offense.

Dio raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I like it! But you can’t tell me Ginga doesn’t feel like a teenager fumbling his way through things.”

Magenta clicked her tongue but smirked. “Tch. You’re not wrong—but that’s the charm.”

Dio’s grin widened. “See? Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The conversation spiraled from there—kaiju designs, transformation sequences, the underrated brilliance of practical effects—and at some point, Magenta realized she wasn’t tense anymore.

She wasn’t overanalyzing Dio’s every move, wasn’t preparing for him to overstep her boundaries or push her too far.

In fact, at one point, she caught herself wondering what he’d look like pinned underneath her.

She shook that thought away.

Dio was just… excited. Unfiltered joy wrapped up in this loud, bright, ridiculous package.

And oddly enough, she liked that about him.

Not that she’d tell him that.

But when he leaned forward slightly, grinning so wide it was almost infectious, and said, “Okay, okay—can I ask you something kinda dumb?” she raised a brow. “What?”

Dio hesitated, like he was debating whether or not to actually say it. Then, in a slightly sheepish voice, he asked,

“Can I call you Genta?”

Magenta blinked.

That—

That was… unexpectedly cute.

She tilted her head, tail flicking behind her. “Why?”

Dio shrugged, still grinning. “It just fits you. And, I dunno, I like nicknames. But if you don’t like it, I won’t—”

“…It’s fine.”

Dio blinked. “Wait, really?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

Dio beamed. “Hell yeah.”

Magenta sighed, shaking her head. “You’re way too excited about that.”

“I just like making people comfortable,” Dio said easily. “If you ever hate it, just tell me.”

Magenta hummed. He really was easy to be around.

Although… the more she talked to him, the more she felt this deep, resonating sadness beneath his energy. It was in the small things—the way his hands shook when he wasn’t thinking about them, the way he flinched ever so slightly whenever she leaned in too close.

She didn’t mention it.

A comfortable silence settled between them, and she found herself watching him—watching the way he radiated warmth, the way his excitement was so genuine, the way he just existed so unapologetically.

…Maybe that was why she didn’t flinch when Dio, without thinking, reached out and petted the top of her head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dio immediately froze.

Magenta blinked, startled by the sudden wave of comfort that washed over her at the touch. Her ears flicked, and for a second, she didn’t hate it.

Dio, however, was already pulling his hand back in panic. “Oh, shit—sorry, I—”

She caught his wrist.

Dio stopped breathing.

Magenta studied him for a long moment, then, slowly, lowered his hand back down onto her head.

“…It’s fine,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

Dio stared. “Wait, really?”

She flicked an ear. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I would never,” Dio said instantly.

Magenta exhaled, letting herself enjoy the warmth of his palm for just a second longer before finally pulling away.

For the rest of the day Dio was on an emotional high and was so hyped that he almost forgot his job. Almost.

Meanwhile Magenta arrived at the apartment complex just as the sun was starting to dip below the skyline, casting the buildings in a warm, amber glow. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her mind still buzzing with the remnants of her conversation with Dio.

Genta.

She couldn’t believe she let him call her that.

Couldn’t believe she let him touch her.

What was worse? She hadn’t hated it.

Magenta was still caught up in the thought when she spotted Soyeon, the ever-observant cat hybrid, lounging against the stair railing leading to their floor. The feline’s sharp green eyes flicked up from her phone, tail curling lazily as she noticed Magenta approaching.

“You’re back later than usual,” Soyeon mused, voice dripping with casual curiosity.

Magenta shrugged. “Got caught up.”

Soyeon’s ears twitched, and then, with an expression that was both smug and knowing, she asked, “You meet the new guy yet?”

Magenta frowned slightly, already regretting stopping to talk. “What new guy?”

Soyeon smirked. “The new guy. Big, loud, too much energy, but surprisingly easy on the eyes.”

Magenta’s stomach twisted.

Dio.

Soyeon took Magenta’s silence as confirmation and let out a satisfied hum. “Thought so. I figured you two would run into each other sooner or later.”

Magenta sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “What does that mean?”

Soyeon tilted her head. “I mean, he’s got that whole intense-but-weirdly-endearing thing going for him. You, on the other hand, are also intense but, you know, in a bitchier way.”

Magenta shot her a glare, and Soyeon just grinned.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Magenta muttered.

“Wasn’t an insult either.”

Magenta huffed. She could already tell where this was going.

Soyeon stretched, standing up fully. “So? What do you think of him?”

Magenta hesitated.

How did she feel about Dio?

He was—too much, that was for sure. Too loud. Too eager. Too real.

But he was also genuine. Warm in a way that made it hard to ignore him. And that passion—for tokusatsu, for life, for everything—it was magnetic.

It was like he felt everything at full volume, unafraid of it.

And maybe—maybe—Magenta liked that about him.

She wasn’t about to say that out loud, though.

Instead, she muttered, “He’s fine.”

Soyeon narrowed her eyes. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Soyeon gave her a long, knowing look before she finally said, “I think you should ask him out.”

Something inside Magenta snapped.

Her breath hitched, her entire body tensing instinctively as something deep and primal inside her stirred.

Heat pooled in her stomach, sharp and sudden, like a dormant part of her had just been ripped open.

Pair bonding.

Her suppressants had kept it locked away for years—shoved it down, drowned it out, forced her instincts into a silent, unyielding cage.

But now—now—just the suggestion of claiming Dio sent a surge of something dangerous through her veins.

Because she could still feel the warmth of his palm on her head.

Could still hear his voice calling her Genta.

Could still imagine how easily he would fit beneath her, how she could sink her teeth into him, mark him, make him hers—

Magenta’s claws dug into her palms.

Soyeon, completely oblivious to the internal war raging inside her, just raised a brow. “You good?”

Magenta forced herself to breathe. Forced the instincts back.

This was ridiculous.

Dio wasn’t even a hybrid. He was a human. He'd never go for her. Especially with how crazy Coyote hybrids could be. She needed to stop her feelings but she couldn't. So Magenta growled angrily. Dio had no idea what he had just triggered.

the next morning Dio whistled to himself as he made his way to the dumpster behind the apartment complex, tossing the trash bag over his shoulder. The night air was cool, but he barely noticed—his mind was too occupied, still running over his last encounter with Magenta.

She was interesting. He liked interesting people.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

As he rounded the corner, he nearly walked right past her—until his brain caught up to what his eyes were seeing.

Magenta.

Wearing a Kamen Rider Fourze shirt.

Dio stopped in his tracks, his heart lurching. His favorite Rider. The best Rider.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “You—you have a Fourze shirt?”

Magenta stiffened.

Dio didn’t even hesitate—he closed the distance between them, pointing at her like she had just revealed the meaning of life. “Wait, wait—was this a coincidence? Or do you actually—”

Magenta swallowed hard, way too focused on the way his scent hit her now that they were this close. The way his energy pressed into her space, completely unguarded, completely unaware of what he was doing to her.

He smelled warm—like sun-soaked linen and just a hint of something deeper, something that made her instincts scream at her to take.

Magenta barely registered what Dio was saying. She was too busy fighting the primal, gut-wrenching need twisting inside her, demanding she claim him.

Dio, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil, kept talking.

“Fourze is, like, the best Rider ever made. People don’t appreciate him enough, but the themes? The character arcs? The fact that Gentaro literally just loves so much that he punches the power of friendship into people—”

He finally noticed the way Magenta was staring at him.

“…Hey, you good?”

Magenta’s breath hitched.

And then—she broke.

Before Dio could react, she grabbed him, shoving him against the wall.

Dio barely had time to blink before her face was right there, her entire body caging him in.

Her pupils were blown wide. Her ears flicked back. Her tail, normally flicking with lazy confidence, was rigid—her whole frame was tense, like she was barely restraining something.

And then she spoke.

“You’re mine.”

It wasn’t a question.

It wasn’t even a request.

It was a fact.

Dio felt his breath hitch.

Magenta’s fingers curled against his shirt. “You’re mine and no one elses,” she repeated, voice lower, rougher. She pressed closer, as if willing the universe itself to accept it as truth.

Something in Dio’s chest tightened—not in fear, but in understanding.

He had seen plenty of hybrids lose themselves to instinct before. He knew what this was.

Magenta was claiming him.

His heart pounded. Happy that she felt this strongly about him but also saddened that she loves him because of what he was.

Pushing past his insecurities—he smiled.

“Okay,” he said, soft and sure, looking up at her with nothing but warmth.

Magenta froze.

“If you’ll have me,” he added, voice just as steady.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Magenta’s grip on his shirt trembled. She searched his face, expecting resistance, expecting anything but the ease with which he had just given himself to her.

Dio wasn’t fighting her.

He wasn’t afraid.

He wasn’t running.

He was letting her take him.

And that—

That was more dangerous than anything.

Magenta exhaled, shaky and sharp, her forehead dropping against his shoulder as she fought for control. Magenta wanted to bite him.

She wanted to sink her teeth into his skin, mark him so deeply that no one would ever question who he belonged to.

But—

Dio was human.

And she—she wasn’t ready to risk losing him.

Not yet.

Instead, she took a deep breath, stepping back—forcing herself to let him go.

Dio watched her carefully, still smiling. “So,” he said, tilting his head. “Are we dating now, or…?”

Magenta groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re impossible.”

“But I’m yours,” Dio said, grinning.

Magenta felt her entire body burn.

“…Shut up.”

Dio just laughed. He was surprised that she followed him to the trash dumpster before she dragged him to her place. Her wolf Roomate stared at Magenta but as she saw Magenta’s eyes she knew what was happening. Magenta found a mate. She ripped through her clothes (except the fourze shirt) as she approached him. Her tail swaying menacingly before she pounched. Her claws tore into Dio’s shirt and pants. Dio groaned as Magenta slid on his rod. Her wet folds sucked him into her tight wet snatch,

“Fuck!” Do groaned before cumming inside of Magenta. Her mind went fuzzy as she received his cum but she smiled before saying.

“Again”

The morning after Dio got up and went back to his apartment as he got clothed Chodan Magenta’s roommate laughed and said “be careful boy she's a maneater,” Dio looked at her confused but pushed the thought out of his mind. After getting back to his place he got a call from Soyeon to talk later.

Dio leaned back on the apartment complex’s rooftop, a can of soda in hand, as he watched the city lights flicker in the distance. Soyeon sat beside him, tail lazily swaying as she took a long sip of her drink. It was one of those rare quiet nights—no chaos, no Magenta pinning him to the wall, no immediate hybrid-related dramatics.

Just him and Soyeon.

And, as always, she got straight to the point.

“So,” she said, side-eyeing him. “How are you adjusting to your clingy little coyote?”

Dio nearly choked on his drink. “Jeez, no lead-in, huh?”

Soyeon smirked. “I like to cut through the nonsense.”

Dio wiped his mouth, laughing. “Fair enough.” He thought for a moment, rolling the can between his hands. “Honestly? I love it.”

Soyeon raised a brow. “You love being claimed like some chew toy?”

Dio grinned. “I love her. She’s intense, sure, but it’s… grounding, y’know? Having someone who wants me like that.”

Soyeon hummed, tilting her head. “And you think you can handle that?”

Dio blinked. “What do you mean?”

Soyeon leaned in, her green cat-like eyes gleaming with amusement. “Coyote hybrids? They don’t just claim their mates, Dio. They own them.” She tapped a claw against her can. “And once they’ve decided you’re theirs, that’s it. No take-backs, no second chances. They mark you, they scent you, they make damn sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

Dio swallowed, remembering the way Magenta had shoved him against the wall the night before, her voice raw with instinct.

Soyeon watched his expression shift and grinned. “She hasn’t marked you yet, has she?”

Dio hesitated. “…Not officially.”

Soyeon’s tail flicked. “Ohoho, you poor bastard.”

Dio groaned. “C’mon, it’s not that serious.”

Soyeon smirked. “It will be. Coyote hybrids are basically one step away from being yandere when it comes to their mates. If another hybrid so much as looks at you wrong, Magenta’s gonna have them in a chokehold before you can blink.”

Dio rubbed the back of his neck, his mind flickering to all the times Magenta had stiffened when another woman got too close to him. “…I mean, yeah, she’s a little possessive, but—”

Soyeon cackled. “A little? Oh, you sweet summer child.”

Dio sighed. “Look, I get it. She’s a coyote hybrid. She’s intense. But I want this. I want her. And I just—I hope I can be good for her, y’know?”

Soyeon blinked, her smirk softening just a little.

She flicked his forehead. “Then don’t screw it up, dumbass.”

Dio chuckled, rubbing the spot. “I’ll do my best.”

Soyeon stretched, standing up. “You’d better. ‘Cause if you break her heart, I will help her bury your body.”

Dio grinned. “Duly noted.”

Soyeon flicked her tail and headed for the stairs, tossing one last warning over her shoulder.

“Oh, and Dio?”

“Yeah?”

“Start wearing scarves.”

Dio blinked. “…Why?”

Soyeon just laughed. “You’ll see.”

Dio watched her leave, suddenly very aware that Magenta had been eyeing his neck a lot lately.

…Well.

He was in for it now.

A few days after helping Magenta with her first heat Dio sat in his apartment, flipping through his notes on the various residents of the Animus Apartments. His pen tapped idly against his knee as he tried to focus, but his mind kept drifting—back to the elevator ride, back to Magenta’s cautious but not dismissive responses, and then further back… back to when he was first placed in this mission.

The offices of the Coalition of Neo-Human Affairs were as cold and sterile as ever, a stark contrast to the supposedly progressive and inclusive mission they claimed to uphold. Dio had never liked coming here. Too many old ghosts. Too many people still treating hybrids like problems to be managed rather than individuals.

And yet, here he was, sitting across from Eunbi Kwon, a high-ranking officer in the coalition and, more importantly, someone he actually trusted.

Eunbi studied him with sharp eyes, her fingers laced together on the desk. “You’re the perfect candidate for this mission, Dio.”

Dio raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Because I’m a ‘variant?’”

“No.” Eunbi shook her head. “Because you’ll fit in. You know how to connect with people. That’s what makes you dangerous, and that’s what makes you useful.”

Dio leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “I’m guessing this isn’t just about watching Doflamingo, is it?”

Eunbi hesitated, then glanced at the door before lowering her voice. “Officially? You’re there to monitor potential unrest, to assess if Doflamingo is a continued threat or not.”

“And unofficially?” Dio pressed.

Eunbi exhaled sharply, her expression darkening. “Unofficially, I don’t trust one of the new heads of CONHA Especially Gyratina.”

Dio’s relaxed posture straightened slightly. “…Why?”

“They’re pushing hard for punitive measures against anyone who was involved in the war. Not just the worst offenders—everyone.” Eunbi’s tone was heavy, laced with something close to frustration. “The conflict was hell, Dio. It forced people to make impossible choices. But some of the people they’re targeting? They were trying to end it. And if this keeps going, it’s not going to stop with just restrictions or surveillance.”

Dio frowned, taking that in. “You think it’s going to get worse.”

“I know it is.” Eunbi leaned forward. “That’s why I need you there. If this goes sideways, if they try to use this apartment complex as an example—you’re my failsafe.”

Dio scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You make it sound like I’m supposed to be some kind of hero.”

Eunbi smirked, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re not. But you are good at saving people.”

Dio sighed, running a hand through his hair. “…Yeah, yeah, alright. I’ll do it.”

As he stood to leave, Eunbi called after him.

“Dio.”

He turned back.

“Be careful.”

He grinned. “Aren’t I always?”

Her unimpressed stare was answer enough.

Present – In His Apartment

Dio blinked as he snapped out of the memory, staring at the now-empty notebook in front of him.

He exhaled slowly, then leaned back with a sigh.

“Right,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s hope I don’t have to play hero just yet.”

Dio had barely finished processing his flashback when there was a knock at his door. He glanced at the clock—it was late. Too late for casual visits. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stood up, rolling his shoulders before heading to the door.

He opened it to find Eunbi Kwon standing there with an easy smile, flanked by Koby, Mina, and Sakura.

“Dio-ah!” Eunbi beamed, her bunny ears twitching slightly as she stepped inside like she owned the place.

Dio’s eyebrows raised. “Eunbi—?”

“Hey, man,” Koby greeted casually, hands in his pockets as he followed her in. Unlike the others, his eyes held the knowing sharpness of someone who understood why they were really here.

Meanwhile, Mina and Sakura pushed in behind them, Mina’s elegant poise contrasting with Sakura’s more casual energy.

Dio stared at the unexpected group now occupying his apartment.

“…To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

Eunbi flopped onto his couch, stretching out like she’d done this a hundred times before. “We came to check on you! You’ve been holed up in here for days.”

“We?” Dio echoed, eyeing Koby, who just gave a nonchalant shrug.

Sakura grinned. “Eunbi said we should do a little welcome party since you’re new here. So we brought drinks!” She held up a bag clinking with bottles.

Dio raised an eyebrow at Eunbi, who just smiled way too innocently.

She wanted to check on him. The others were just cover.

“Ah, I see,” Dio said slowly, closing the door behind them.

Mina, who had been surveying his apartment with a critical eye, hummed approvingly. “I expected something messier. You actually keep things tidy.”

Dio smirked. “I have to—can’t let people think I’m uncivilized.”

Sakura flopped into a chair and kicked her feet up on the table. “So, Agent Dio, how’s life in Animus Apartments treating you?”

Dio’s smirk didn’t waver, but his gaze flicked toward Eunbi.

That wasn’t a casual question.

Koby shot a subtle warning glance at Sakura, who had unknowingly stepped a little too close to what Eunbi was actually here to discuss.

Dio played it off smoothly, stretching his arms over his head. “Not bad. Met some interesting people.” He glanced at Eunbi, his tone deliberately casual. “In fact, I was just reminiscing about how I got recruited into this little mission of mine.”

Eunbi’s ears twitched slightly.

Dio smirked. “You wouldn’t happen to remember that conversation, would you?”

Eunbi gave him an unreadable look before grinning. “Oh, vaguely. Something about you being too charismatic for your own good—”

“Ahhh, now I remember,” Dio interrupted, snapping his fingers. “And something about a certain CONHA head being untrustworthy?”

Koby tensed slightly, but Sakura and Mina were blissfully unaware of the deeper meaning behind the exchange.

Eunbi’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a sharp glint in her eyes. “You know me, Dio—I always worry about people in power.”

Dio hummed, letting the subject drop just as casually as he had introduced it. “Well, if you ever need an extra set of eyes, you know where to find me.”

Mina, unaware of the tension, clapped her hands together. “Enough work talk. Let’s drink.”

Sakura grinned. “Now you’re talking.”

As Eunbi leaned back on the couch, her sharp eyes lingering on Dio for a beat longer than necessary, he knew one thing for sure—this wasn’t just a social call.

A Party in the Making

What started as a small gathering quickly spiraled into a full-blown apartment party.

Mina and Sakura, thrilled by the idea of making Dio’s “welcome” more fun, took it upon themselves to invite more people. Before Dio could protest, Yujin and Wonyoung had arrived—dragging along Karina, Sullyoon, and Ryujin.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open yet again, revealing Doflamingo and Asa.

The moment Doflamingo entered, the air seemed to shift. His presence was imposing, effortlessly commanding attention even as he stayed silent.

But instead of mingling, he stuck close to Asa, his hand resting lazily on her lower back as he scanned the room.

Dio met his gaze.

Doflamingo wasn’t openly hostile, but he wasn’t exactly friendly either. It was clear he was sizing Dio up, trying to assess him.

Dio just smiled.

Not the first time I’ve been analyzed like a threat.

But before that tension could settle, the final guest arrived.

Magenta.

Dio had just turned toward the door when he saw her—a coyote hybrid, the one from the elevator.

She stood at the entrance, hesitating, her golden-spotted tail flicking anxiously behind her. She was still wearing the Ultraman shirt from earlier, but now she had thrown a loose jacket over it, like she wasn’t sure how casual this was supposed to be.

She looked like she was seriously considering leaving.

Dio immediately forgot how to function as a human being.

“Uh—! Y-you—! H-hi!”

Magenta blinked. “…Hi?”

Dio swallowed hard. He had talked to dangerous people, world leaders, military strategists—but this? This was so much worse.

Magenta’s ears twitched as she stared at him. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Before Dio could humiliate himself further, Eunbi—traitor that she was—smirked knowingly.

“Ohhhh, I see what’s happening here.” She leaned toward Magenta with a teasing grin. “I think Dio has a little crush.”

Dio choked.

“I—I do not! I—I just think she has, you know, a cool shirt and—that’s—that’s all—”

Magenta’s expression was unreadable, but her tail flicked again, this time in something like mild amusement.

Eunbi, sensing blood in the water, grinned wickedly.

“Wow, Dio. You’re all smooth and confident when talking to literal war criminals, but one cute hybrid and you’re completely useless.”

Koby snorted into his drink, while Yujin and Ryujin straight-up started laughing.

Dio’s face burned. “I—I have never been useless a day in my life—”

Magenta, despite herself, let out a tiny laugh.

Dio immediately decided it was the best sound he had ever heard.

“…Well,” Magenta murmured, crossing her arms. “I was gonna leave. But now I kinda want to see how much of a mess you can make of yourself.”

Dio groaned.

Eunbi cackled.

Doflamingo just watched.

He had been observing Dio carefully this entire time, his sharp teal eyes noting every interaction, every shift in energy.

And from the way his lips curled slightly at Dio’s suffering, he was amused.

Asa nudged him. “You’re staring, Doffy.”

Doflamingo chuckled. “Just…taking in the entertainment.”

As the party continued in full force, Dio struggled to keep himself composed—all while Magenta kept giving him that look, like she was still trying to figure him out.

And Doflamingo?

Doflamingo leaned against the wall, idly swirling his drink as he watched the party unfold. He wasn’t the type to insert himself into the chaos—especially when he was still keeping a close eye on the so-called “human” spy in their midst.

Dio, despite being a little much, seemed genuine. He had that rare kind of warmth that drew people in, the kind that made it easy to forget he was part of a mission to monitor them. Doflamingo didn’t trust him. Not yet. But he liked what he saw.

Still, he needed to make sure Dio wasn’t going to cause problems for anyone he cared about. As the night went on, someone suggested karaoke, and before Dio even knew what was happening, Eunbi and Sullyoon were already dragging him along.

As they moved towards the door, Doflamingo finally approached him.

Dio immediately noticed the way the other man watched him.

Doflamingo was hard to read, but Dio could feel the weight of his scrutiny—the quiet, calculated way he was assessing him.

“…So, Asa told me you were the spy,” Doflamingo said simply.

Dio exhaled. Welp.

He nodded. “Yep. Dioyoza, your official babysitter.”

Doflamingo’s eyes narrowed.

“The CONHA sent you to watch me?”

“Not just watch,” Dio admitted. “If things go south, I’m supposed to subdue you.”

Doflamingo laughed. It wasn’t a friendly laugh.

Dio held up his hands. “Hey, hey—I don’t want to. I didn’t sign up for this job, but with you essentially being a mechanized dragon-god thing, CONHA wasn’t gonna let you roam free without some oversight. Especially since you stopped taking all of you pills ”

Doflamingo’s expression darkened. “And how do they know I stopped taking my pills?”

“Because they’re tracking your prescriptions and when they are supposed to be filled.”

Doflamingo stared at him for a long, tense moment—searching for any hint of malice.

But Dio, despite all his flaws, was earnest.

When things were casual, he was all energy and bravado. But when things got serious, he was focused, steady.

Doflamingo sighed. Then—to Dio’s absolute shock—he laughed.

As the two of them walked toward the exit, Magenta suddenly reappeared.

With zero hesitation, she slid her arm through Dio’s, pulling him possessively into her side.

Dio short-circuited again.

He turned, wide-eyed. “Uh—?”

Magenta smirked up at him.

“What’s wrong?” she purred. “Cat got your tongue?”

Dio swallowed hard.

Emboldened by sheer desperation, he blurted, “If the cat’s as pretty as you—anytime.”

Magenta’s golden eyes narrowed. She appraised him, considering his words.

Then, lips curling, she said, “That can be arranged.”

Dio’s brain exploded.

As the group filtered out of Dio’s apartment, heading toward karaoke, Asa suddenly latched onto Doflamingo’s arm.

It wasn’t subtle.

One second, Doflamingo was walking normally—the next, Asa had looped her arm through his, gripping tight like a leash, ensuring he stayed close.

Doflamingo huffed in amusement but made no effort to shake her off. He was used to Asa’s possessiveness, especially when new people were around.

“Something wrong, Asa?” he mused.

Asa rolled her eyes. “Nope. Just making sure you don’t disappear.”

Doflamingo smirked. “Disappointing. And here I thought you just liked holding onto me.”

She clicked her tongue. “I do but…You’re a flight risk. Somebody’s gotta keep you from sneaking off and avoiding all the fun.”

Doflamingo let out a low chuckle but didn’t push it.

That was, until his gaze flickered to Dio and Magenta.

The coyote hybrid had an iron grip on Dio’s arm, her expression unreadable—but her body language possessive. Dio, meanwhile, looked utterly bewildered yet also oddly smitten, as if he couldn’t decide whether to be flustered or honored by the attention.

Doflamingo grinned.

He leaned down slightly toward Asa, his voice low with amusement.

“So… looks like you’re not the only possessive one around here.”

Asa’s ears twitched. “Huh?”

Doflamingo nodded toward Magenta.

Asa followed his gaze—then snorted.

“Oh, please,” she said, unimpressed. “She’s just teasing him.”

Doflamingo raised a brow. “Uh-huh. Teasing him by clutching his arm like a prized catch?”

Asa narrowed her eyes, watching the way Magenta held onto Dio, her tail flicking slightly, her grip firm.

“…She is being a little extra, huh.”

Doflamingo smirked. “Maybe she’s like you. Just without the ‘mechanized dragon’ best friend.”

Asa huffed. “First of all, you’re not my ‘best friend.’ You’re my burden. Second of all, Magenta is not as bad as me.”

Doflamingo’s smirk widened. “Oh? You sure? Because the way she’s keeping Dio glued to her side is looking real familiar.”

Asa grumbled something under her breath.

Doflamingo laughed.

“Relax,” he said, patting her hand where it clung to his arm. “I think it’s cute.”

Asa scoffed.

“Whatever. You’re still coming to karaoke, and you’re going to sing.”

Doflamingo groaned. “You can’t make me.”

Asa grinned, fangs flashing.

“Oh, Doffy, you should know by now—I can absolutely make you.”

The karaoke room had erupted into laughter and noise, the air buzzing with excitement as each person took their turn belting out their favorite songs. The atmosphere was relaxed, but in the corner, Koby and Eunbi stood together, drinks in hand, watching the interactions between the two couples with a knowing look.

Koby, the more observant of the two, took a sip of his beer, his gaze flicking between the two couples: Asa and Doflamingo, who were standing close, their conversations soft and private, and Dio and Magenta, who were standing on the other side of the room, but with an unmistakable pull between them. There was something… different about each couple.

Eunbi followed his gaze and smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I see you’ve noticed it too.”

Koby raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if ‘noticed’ is the right word. It’s more like I can’t not notice it. Both of them… different, but equally intense in their own ways.”

Eunbi chuckled, her bunny ears twitching as she leaned in closer to Koby. “The difference between Asa and Magenta is a study in contrasts, but they both have one thing in common—they’re both incredibly predatory when it comes to their guys.”

Koby took another sip, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Yeah, I can see that. Asa with Doflamingo—there’s this quiet, simmering control to her. It’s like… she’s always just waiting, biding her time until the moment she decides to move. She doesn’t need to be loud or obvious about it.”

Eunbi’s eyes followed Asa and Doflamingo for a moment, noticing how Asa had one hand casually resting on the small of Doflamingo’s back, her fingers curling slightly as if claiming her space with just the smallest touch. Doflamingo, in contrast, seemed entirely at ease, his casual demeanor masking the deeper level of connection between the two.

“With Asa,” Eunbi continued, “there’s something about the way she watches him—like she’s always in his orbit, waiting for him to make the move or say the right thing, and then she’ll pounce. It’s more subtle, but I can tell she’s not someone to underestimate. She lets Doflamingo have his space, but she keeps him tethered without him even realizing it.”

Koby nodded slowly. “Yeah, I can see that. She holds him in her gaze, but it’s like she’s more about control through restraint than anything else.”

Eunbi turned her attention toward Dio and Magenta on the other side of the room. Magenta was leaning casually against the wall, her eyes locked on Dio as he was chatting with some of the others, trying to keep up the conversation. Dio was still the center of attention, but Magenta was the unseen force pulling him back in.

“Now Magenta,” Eunbi started, “she’s a whole different story. She’s predatory, but in a raw, untamed way. Look at her—she’s just waiting for the right moment to strike. There’s no subtlety in how she moves. It’s all confidence, all intensity. You can see it in the way she watches Dio. She’s not afraid to let him know she’s keeping tabs on him—on her terms.”

Koby chuckled under his breath, his gaze drifting toward Magenta, who was standing taller than most, her posture demanding and poised to act at any moment. Her eyes flicked to Dio once more, her feline gaze narrowing with an unmistakable possessiveness.

“I see what you mean. It’s a lot more direct with her. She’s not waiting for Dio to come to her; she’s drawing him in. Magenta’s not about subtlety—she’s about claiming her territory in a way that’s almost… primal.”

Eunbi gave him a playful nudge. “Exactly. And it’s so different from Asa, but it works because they both get their guys in a way that feels totally natural. I mean, look at Dio—he’s totally enchanted by her.”

Koby watched as Magenta walked over to Dio, her hand resting on his shoulder with a possessive yet teasing touch. Dio looked a little flustered as he stammered out a response, clearly trying to maintain his usual control. The switch between the confident, intense Dio and the more vulnerable, submissive side Magenta brought out in him was impossible to miss.

“You’re right,” Koby said with a slight grin. “Dio is way more sensitive to her presence. And Magenta doesn’t even need to say a word to make that clear. She’s got that power over him, and he knows it.”

Eunbi’s gaze softened, her eyes filled with a rare affection for the two women. “They’re both very different in how they go about it, but they both get under their guy’s skin. You know, it’s fascinating—Asa’s all about control through patience and precision, while Magenta is all about instant connection, commanding attention through her presence.”

Koby chuckled. “Magenta’s got her claws in deep already. But I think you’re right—Asa and Doflamingo are definitely more calm, even in their intensity. They’re just… quieter about it.”

Eunbi shrugged and took another sip of her drink, a teasing grin on her face. “Maybe. But both of these guys have no idea what they’re in for with their respective predators. Asa and Magenta might act different, but in the end, they’re both equally dangerous when it comes to getting what they want.”

As the karaoke session continued and the laughter grew louder, Koby and Eunbi exchanged amused glances. Their casual observation had turned into something far more layered, watching the dynamics unfold in real time. It was clear that, despite their differences, both Asa and Magenta were fiercely protective of the men they cared about in their own ways. And Dio and Doflamingo, whether they realized it or not, were already caught up in their predatory pull.

Eunbi leaned in closer to Koby, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I think we’re all going to be in for a lot more fun tonight.”

Koby smirked, his eyes never leaving the two women. “This is just the beginning.”

After Karaoke the group went back to Animus apartments and like clockwork the Direwolf lion hybrid waited. He watched as the group sauntered in barely keeping a straight face as the all took the elevator. Due to the size of the group Dio and Magenta ended up waiting by themselves while everyone else went up. Dio turned to the Sentry and said.

“I’m sorry about causing a ruckus when I moved in.” The Sentry appraised Dio’s face looking for some form of trickery but only found earnestness and genuine concern. The Sentinel smiled and said.

“As long as you don’t make a habit of it,”

Dioyoza sighed and said.

“I certainly would if I could, but as of right now it’s looking like I might be out of luck,”

The sentinel looked at Dio and saw legitimate concern etched across his face,

“Why is that?”

Dio hesitated until he recognized the Hybrid. He was a solider in the Hybrid human war.

“Oh Sirius, it’s good to see you. You don’t remember me but that’s not important. Their are people who have power but want no responsibility and are taking out those who would challenge them,”

Dio said quite clearly. Sirius looked at the man curious before the elevator came for him and Magenta.

Magenta turned to Dio and asked what that was about, Dio shrugged and said

“Apologizing for scaring the man earlier,”

The duo walked in and sat in Dio’s apartment. Dio closed his eyes hoping his ears would stop ringing. As he yawned Magenta finally pounced in a flurry of clothes tearing she straddled Dio and brought him in for a lurid kiss. Her soft lips overwhelmed Dio as he felt her tongue pin his. She smiled “mine.” she said holding his tongue hostage. Dio laughed in between Kisses and Magenta sucking his tongue. When she finally came up for air she turned off the lights and her soft brown eyes burned a siren-like gold

“I need to fuck you right now or I'm gonna lose it,” she said before ripping open Dio’s pants. Magenta pushes her panties to the side as she slowly slides down on Dio’s cock.

“Fuck you feel so good,” she says. Dio groans as Magenta rolls her hips into his. She hisses as her pussy tightens around him like a vice,

“Fuck,” Dio gasps and Magenta smiles his hands paw at the coyote’s soft plush ass.

“You have such a nice ass,” Dio says before smacking Magenta’s ass. Unfortunately for him that was the last thing to trigger’s Magenta’s heat. Her eyes narrow into slits as she rides Dio.

“God fucking cum in me,” she moans as she goes from riding to bouncing on his cock her brain fogging over with lust as she does. Dio notices the change in her temperament and asks if she is okay. Magenta claws into Dio’s back before saying, “fuck yes now please breed me. I need it.” she moans deliriously. Her words and her body send Dio over the edge as he fills her to the brim with cum. Magenta sighs as her mind clears for a moment and realization

“Fuck you've sent me into another heat,” she groaned before fucking him all night.

Dio ran into Doflamingo on his way out, Magenta clinging to his side with a tension in her body that spoke volumes. Her heat was tearing through her leaving her mind a ravenous and horny mess. She needed food but also needed to fuck and both competing desires where driving her crazy. One the elevator when it was just her and Dio her hand slipped into her folds as her tongue found its way lodged into Dio’s ear,

“Fuck me here. Please just a quickie. I’ll be good after,” Dio barely could resist her .Despite the obvious struggle, she was still keeping herself in check, though her claws flexed against the fabric of Dio’s sleeve every so often, like a reflex she had to fight.

Doflamingo took in the sight—Dio, usually so composed, now visibly flustered as he carefully steadied the desperate coyote hybrid at his side. It was an amusing reversal from their usual dynamic, and Doflamingo let out a quiet chuckle.

Dio shot him a look, somewhere between exasperation and sheepish acceptance. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself, big guy.”

“I am,” Doflamingo admitted, watching as Magenta grumbled something under her breath and buried her face against Dio’s shoulder.

They stepped out into the night air, and for a moment, Dio seemed caught in thought. His brows furrowed, then smoothed out, and his lips quirked up in a thoughtful smile.

“You ever seen those old kaiju movies?” Dio asked suddenly.

Doflamingo arched a brow. “A few.”

Dio nodded, as if that answer settled something. “You’re like the mecha-kaiju—the ones humans build to fight the real monsters. They’re massive, capable of untold destruction, but at the core, they’ve got this weird… humanity to them. A heart, you know?”

Doflamingo blinked, caught off guard by the comparison.

Dio tilted his head, thoughtful. “And me? I’m like the space kaiju. The alien monster that crash-lands on Earth, completely out of place, not really knowing where he belongs. Confused, trying to figure out if he’s supposed to be the bad guy or if there’s another way.”

He let out a small, almost self-deprecating laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we’ll see how it all plays out, huh?”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and started walking, Magenta pressing even closer as they disappeared into the night.

Doflamingo remained standing there, his usually sharp mind lingering on the weight of Dio’s words.

A mecha-kaiju, huh?

He scoffed to himself, but there was something unsettlingly accurate about the analogy.

With a quiet hum, he turned and headed back inside, the thought following him long after Dio was gone.

As Dio and Magenta stepped out into the night, Asa stood by the entrance of the apartment complex, arms crossed, watching them with a lazy smirk. She gave a casual wave as they passed, though her sharp eyes flicked between Dio’s completely oblivious expression and the way Magenta clung to him with desperate intensity.

Then the scent hit her.

Asa froze mid-wave.

Oh. Oh, wow.

She had been around plenty of hybrids in heat before, but Magenta? This wasn’t just heat—this was heat. The kind that was intense enough to practically roll off her in waves, thick and undeniable. It was suffocating, cloying, an overwhelming signal that screamed one thing loud and clear: she was ready for Dio.

And yet…

Asa turned her gaze to Dio, who was completely, utterly unaware. His grip on Magenta was firm but gentle, steadying her like she was just a little lightheaded instead of barely holding herself together. He kept talking like nothing was wrong, completely missing the way Magenta was practically molding herself against him, as if she needed his touch just to stay upright.

Asa had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

Oh, this was going to be interesting.

She glanced up at Doflamingo, who had also caught on, judging by the amused flicker in his eyes.

“You think he even has a clue?” Asa murmured, tilting her head toward the pair.

Doflamingo snorted. “Not a chance.”

Asa shook her head in disbelief, watching as Magenta, frustrated with Dio’s lack of reaction, nuzzled into his shoulder with a soft growl. Dio just patted her back in an almost chaste manner, like she was just a tired friend instead of a hybrid practically screaming for him with every fiber of her being.

The sheer contrast was hilarious.

“Well,” Asa said, stretching as she turned toward Doflamingo, “that’s gonna be fun when he finally figures it out.”

Doflamingo smirked. “Oh, definitely.”

With one last glance at the couple disappearing down the street, Asa looped her arm through Doflamingo’s and pulled him toward the elevator.

“C’mon, big guy,” she teased. “Let’s go see if you live up to that whole mecha-kaiju thing.”

As Dio walked with Magenta she kept nipping at his ear she noticed when they fucked and she paid attention to them he became hard. Dio could barely keep walking despite her constant attempts to rile him up until he gave in.

Dio grabbed Magenta and pulled her pants down to reveal her drooling slit.

“You wanna fuck so bad here,” he growled as he rammed his cock into Magenta’s gushing cunt.

“Oh thank you thank God!” she moaned. she moaned. Unable to control her new urges or her body her teeth sank into Dioyoza’s shoulder as he rammed into her cunt. Magenta smiled whispering, “Breed me. Claim me. Fill me,” her words made Dio rut into her fast and grip her perfect breast firmly. Magenta clearly loosing herself to the pleasure of mating. She stares at Dio and notices a flicker of something in his eyes. A flicker of malice that sends a lurid chill down her spine. It makes her lose control as she cums all over Dio’s cock. As she does Dio’s mind comes back to him as he holds Magenta up.

“I got you,” he reassures and the coyote Hybrid falls in love deeper for her mate.

A few days later Nayeon and Dio were meeting up on one of the three roofs of the Animus Apartments complex getting as tanned as they could.

Dio leaned back on the worn-out lawn chair with Nayeon on one of the roofs of the Animus apartments, tossing a stress ball from hand to hand as he stretched his legs out. The bunny hybrid sat cross-legged beside him, sipping on a fruit smoothie with lazy contentment. The Animus Apartments were lively as always—muffled conversations, laughter, and the occasional sound of someone sprinting down the hallway in a panic. Just another lazy afternoon.

“So,” Nayeon said, nudging him with her foot. “How’s life, new guy?”

Dio smirked. “I’ve been here for two months. Not so new anymore.”

“New enough,” she teased. “C’mon, tell me—how’s life in our little hybrid paradise? And more importantly, how’s life with your hybrid?”

At the mention of Magenta, Dio grinned, something warm settling in his chest. “It’s… nice,” he admitted. “Better than nice, really. She’s affectionate in a way that—” He exhaled, shaking his head like he was still processing it. “I don’t think I ever realized how much I needed that kind of closeness until now.”

Nayeon chuckled. “Magenta’s an affectionate one, huh? I figured she’d be the type. Has she noticed your healing yet?”

The shift in Dio’s expression was subtle, but Nayeon caught it immediately. His grin dimmed, his shoulders tensed just a fraction. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No,” he admitted.

Nayeon hummed, stirring her smoothie with the straw. “You know you’re gonna have to tell her eventually, right?”

Dio let out a dry chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch. “Yeah. I know.”

Nayeon turned to fully face him, her expression softer now. “Dio… she’s going to find out. Whether it’s from you or from something happening, it’s inevitable. And when she does, she’ll need to hear it from you. Not secondhand. Not in the middle of some catastrophe. You owe yourself that.”

Dio exhaled through his nose, nodding slowly. “You’re right.” He was quiet for a moment, gripping the stress ball a little tighter. “It’s just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “For once, I feel like a normal person. Not a monster. Not a failed experiment. Not the Doomsday Engine.” His voice dipped at that last part, the weight of the title pressing down on him even now. “I just want to hold onto that feeling a little longer.”

Nayeon reached out and flicked his forehead. “Idiot,” she said gently. “You are a normal person. You’re just a normal person who’s been through some shit.”

Dio huffed a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Nayeon studied him for a second longer, then stood up, stretching. “Well, I’m heading out. But seriously, think about it. You deserve more than carrying this on your own.”

Dio nodded, giving her a half-hearted salute as she grabbed her bag and made her way out. “See ya, Bun-Bun.”

“See ya, Doomsday,” she teased, winking before disappearing through the door.

The apartment roof was quiet now.

Dio sat there for a long moment, staring at his hand. Slowly, he let go of the stress ball, flexing his fingers.

Then he let the Apocalypse Energy seep out.

It crackled through his veins, dark and radiant, shifting his skin into something alien. His skin fading away into cosmic crimson energy covered by a metallic silver armor jagged His the metallic armor turning to claws, the tips of his fingers flickering with the void of something far beyond human comprehension. His Galaxy Destroyer form, barely restrained, barely leashed.

He sighed, staring at it—not in awe, not in fear. Just tired.

“…It doesn’t feel like it,” he murmured, answering Nayeon’s earlier reassurance.

His gaze softened slightly, fingers twitching as he recalled the careful hands of a scientist adjusting his synthetic veins, their tired yet hopeful voice guiding him through his first transformation.

Dio swallowed.

“Thanks, Dr. Isurugi,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

And with that, he clenched his fist, forcing the energy to retreat. The markings faded, his hand returning to normal. Her stared at the markings. “Cosmic Conqueror series D” he read as he set alone. He was normal.

For now.

Dio lay back on the sun chair, one arm draped over his eyes, the warmth of the setting sun washing over him. The apartment complex’s rooftop was quiet at this hour—just the faint sound of the city in the distance, the occasional flutter of wings from a passing bird.

And his own thoughts.

I should tell her.

Scene: The Making of a Monster

The words echoed in his mind, but they never stuck.

I should tell her.

But if he told her, if he peeled back the layers and let Magenta see all of him—the jagged edges, the fractures held together with old battle scars and brittle smiles—what then?

Would she still look at him with the same fierce devotion? Would she still pull him close, wrap herself around him like he was something worth keeping?

Or would she flinch?

Would she see what he had been made to be?

Dio let out a slow breath, eyes drifting up to the sky. The apartment rooftop was quiet, the evening sun casting everything in warm golds and soft oranges. It was peaceful. A moment that felt like it belonged to someone else.

Because normal people—real people—didn’t have hands that could tear through the fabric of existence.

And they definitely didn’t have ghosts like the one currently clawing its way out of his memories.

He was 12 when his parents introduced him to Dr. Isurugi and Dr. Mikoto.

“They’re going to help you, sweetheart,” his mother had said, brushing his hair back with shaky fingers. “They’re going to make everything easier for you.”

The doctors smiled—polished, professional, practiced. They told Dio and his family everything he wanted to hear. That they could fix his motor function issues, strengthen his lungs so he wouldn’t have to carry an inhaler like a lifeline. That they could sharpen his focus, regulate the emotions that always seemed too much, too fast, too strong.

They told him he would be better.

And Dio, young and eager, believed them.

At first, it was simple. Steroids to help with asthma, neuroregulators for attention deficits, mild cognitive therapy to train his brain to process things correctly.

And it worked. He was better. Stronger. More focused. More controlled.

Then came the radiation treatment.

The doctors never told him what the element was. Never named it. Just exposed him to it in slow, measured doses. At first, nothing happened.

Then the changes started.

Growth spurts, muscle density shifts, an increase in endurance and healing. It wasn’t just him—there were others in the Evo program. Byleth, who developed the ability to generate and manipulate her own bone marrow, reshaping herself into something unbreakable. Tiberius, whose cryokinesis turned the air around him to frost with just a breath.

Dio didn’t develop his mutation right away.

When he did, everything changed.

The doctors started isolating him. Keeping him separate from the others. Telling him it was for his benefit, that he needed to train harder, be stronger—because his power was dangerous, and he had to learn to control it.

They kept exposing him to the radiation, adjusting his treatments, tweaking the formula. And Dio—young, desperate to matter—took everything they gave him.

Because he wanted to be strong.

Because he wanted to be special.

Because he wanted someone to look at him and say, You’re doing good, Dio. You’re exactly what we need.

The doctors fed that part of him, nurtured it like gardeners cultivating the perfect specimen. They shaped him into something beautiful and terrible all at once.

They even designed his final form—the ominous black, white, and red color scheme, the skeletal accents, the glowing fissures that cracked along his skin when he let go of his restraints.

They told him he was a weapon.

No—an event.

A doomsday engine, meant to end the war between hybrids and humans in one decisive act of annihilation.

And the worst part?

Dio loved them for it.

Loved them like a stray dog loves the first hands that feed it. Loved them because they told him he mattered. Because they gave him a purpose, told him he was special, told him he was right.

He had been so eager to please them.

So desperate for their approval.

Dio clenched his jaw, shaking the thoughts away, but memories had a way of creeping through the cracks when you least expected them.

And this time, it wasn’t the doctors that haunted him.

It was her.

He was nineteen standing outside Gabbie’s dorm room, heart hammering like a war drum.

It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. But Gabbie—silver fox hybrid, sharp-eyed, razor-tongued—had a way of making his stomach do weird, traitorous things.

And he was Dio. Loud, earnest, the guy who always said what he felt.

So he did.

“Gabbie,” he had said, grinning, hands shoved in his pockets to hide how much they shook. “I like you. Like, a lot. So, uh… wanna go out with me?”

Silence.

Gabbie stared at him. Ears twitching, expression unreadable.

Then she laughed.

And not the good kind.

“Who would ever love an attention-seeking, touch-starved, validation-hunting abomination like you?”

Dio stopped breathing.

The words sank into him like a knife, cutting so deep he thought he might bleed out right there on the pavement.

But then—then he did what he always did.

He smiled.

“A simple no would’ve been enough,” he said, voice too easy, too light.

He turned and walked away before she could see the cracks.

The memory dissolved into the evening sky, leaving Dio sitting in the sun chair, staring blankly at his open palm. His fingers curled, and for a moment, he let the Apocalypse energy pulse through him. Let the air around his hand distort, let the edges of reality tremble under his touch.

The power felt hungry.

He could still hear Gabbie’s voice, sharp and cruel, echoing through his head.

Who would ever love you?

His hand clenched into a fist, “I should have killed her,” he thought but when Dio registered the thought he realized it wasn't who he was, and so the energy dissipating in an instant.

Dio exhaled sharply and forced his mind to shift—to something better. To something real.

To Magenta.

To the way she pulled him into her orbit like he belonged there.

To the way she whispered mine like she meant it.

To the way she chose him.

Dio swallowed hard, his throat tight.

“…I’m lucky,” he muttered to himself.

And for the first time in a long time, he almost believed it. The Ocean & The River

Dioyoza stayed in that seat until the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky bleeding into hues of violet and deep orange. The world felt quiet around him, and for once, he didn’t fight it.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“I have been looking for my mate for two hours, and here he is, sitting all alone.”

Dio turned, his lips curling into a small, tired smile as he saw Magenta standing a few feet away. Her ears flicked—first with uncertainty, then sharpening with confidence as she closed the distance between them.

Without hesitation, Dio wrapped his arms around her. Magenta melted into the hug, breathing in his scent, but then—she froze.

She pulled back slightly, brow furrowing as she sniffed again. “Your scent smells different.”

Dio shrugged. “Maybe I forgot to shower,” he joked lightly, but Magenta’s tail twitched, and she didn’t laugh.

She started walking ahead, expecting him to follow, and Dio did—but something felt off.

Magenta stopped abruptly, turning on her heel, her sharp eyes scanning him. He had no bounce in his step, none of that infectious, electric energy that usually radiated from him. Instead, he was… subdued. Dimmed.

“Okay, you’re quiet,” Magenta said bluntly. “I don’t like it.”

Dio blinked, then let out a small, amused chortle. “Whoa, chill—can’t I be quiet sometimes?”

Magenta crossed her arms. “No.”

Dio raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” she repeated firmly, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. She wasn’t just looking at him—she was reading him, feeling the shifts in his energy, sensing the fractures beneath his usual glow. “This isn’t you. Something’s wrong.”

Dio opened his mouth, but Magenta didn’t let him deflect. She stepped closer, placing a firm hand on his chest. “It’s messing up the tsunami of consciousness that is you,” she continued, voice filled with conviction. “I don’t like river Dio. I like ocean Dio.”

Dio inhaled sharply.

She always knew.

Even when he didn’t want her to.

Magenta tilted her head slightly, watching him with the same keen focus she used when tracking prey. Then, without warning, she surged forward and kissed him.

Dio barely had time to react before he was sinking into it. Magenta was fierce, demanding—pulling him back into the present, grounding him in her. She bit his lower lip lightly before pulling away, eyes burning into his.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she murmured.

Dio hesitated.

Magenta waited. She was never patient about most things, but when it came to him—to the things that mattered—she never rushed.

Finally, he exhaled, the words coming out almost shyly.

“I was one of the variant experiments done by the Cosmic Conquerors.”

Magenta stilled.

Her ears twitched, her pupils dilating slightly as her brain caught up with what he just said.

Dio braced himself for the shift—the moment she’d see him differently. The moment she’d pull away.

But Magenta didn’t move.

Her grip on his shirt tightened as if anchoring him now.

[girlactionfigure]

🟦PURIM DAY - Real time from Israel  

🅸🆂🆁🅰️🅴🅻 🅁🄴🄰🄻🅃🄸🄼🄴 - "Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime"

✡️It’s PURIM - Purim commemorates the (Divinely orchestrated) salvation of the Jewish people in the ancient Persian empire from Haman��s plot “to destroy, kill and annihilate all the Jews, young and old, infants and women, in a single day.”

“And the Jews had light and joy and gladness and wealth.” - Megillah Esther

Purim Samayach - a Happy Purim!🧑‍🎤🦸🍷🍻🥂

ONLY GOOD(ish) NEWS in today’s report!

( PHOTO - Purim Megillah reading while on alert at Rafah beach, south Gaza. )

▪️PRIME MINISTER attended a Megillah reading last night at the national police academy.  He commented: "2,500 years later, a tyrant arose for the Jewish people in that same land. And heroes like you arose - and with cunning, heroism, and courage, we turned the tables, and we are breaking the axis of Persia (Iran).”

▪️A DELEGATION OF SYRIAN DRUZE CLERICS from the Druze community entered Israel this morning for a historic and special visit to the tomb of Nabi Shuaib in the Lower Galilee.

▪️US THREATENS IRAN (Persia!) - Report: The letter President Trump delivered to Iran's Supreme Leader contains an unequivocal threat: You could face massive military action if you do not agree to negotiate to reach a new nuclear agreement. 

▪️ISRAELI GOVT TO ADOPT TESLA’s?  Govt studying the bid by Tesla for the next generation of government vehicles.

▪️PURIM JOKE BY HAMAS?  Hamas spokesman: Hamas insists that Israel fulfill its obligations to withdraw from Gaza and begin withdrawing from the Philadelphi Egypt-Gaza border corridor, to allow Hamas to rearm.  

There are new proposals that aim to "override the agreement."  We adhere to what has already been agreed upon in the past (no such agreement).

▪️PURIM JOKE BY IRAN’S SUPREME LEADER?  (Which he published in Hebrew on X) "Against the enemy's expectations,  the Palestinian and Lebanese resistance are only getting stronger and are filled with determination. Hezbollah operates with more force than ever and the Palestinian resistance is capable of forcing its terms on the other side in negotiations."  

( The question is: does he believe his own propaganda?  We think t yes - getting false feedback and amplifying. )

▪️HAREDI JOB TRAINING FUNDING - Additional budget items arrived at the Finance Committee today, including a coalition addition from Shas and United Torah Judaism (haredi parties) encouraging employment. The money to go to a scholarship that is associated with engineering institutions, the majority of which are ultra-Orthodox, and whose criteria for receiving that scholarship helps families with many children and low incomes.

▪️NATIONAL BUDGET - Behind the scenes, quiet agreements were reached that will ensure the budget's approval, despite the threats and drama. Netanyahu will ultimately choose which path to take: He can split the Haredim (United Torah Judaism party), as he has done in the past, or try to make some representatives of Otzma Yehudit simply abstain or not attend the vote (to reduce the positive votes necessary).

🌎WORLD NEWS OF NOTE.. Columbia University expels students who took over the Hamilton Building in pro-Palestinian protests (a week after the Trump administration halted $400 million in federal funding.)

.. A new documentary in the US on Oct 8 about the funding connection between Hamas and the riots at a US university.

✡️PURIM today runs into Shabbat - Parshat (Torah Portion) Ki Tisa - Exodus 30:11 - The people of Israel are told to each contribute exactly half a shekel of silver to the Sanctuary. Instructions are also given regarding the making of the Sanctuary’s water basin, anointing oil and incense. “Wise-hearted” artisans Betzalel and Aholiav are placed in charge of the Sanctuary’s construction, and the people are once again commanded to keep the Shabbat.

When Moses does not return when expected from Mount Sinai, the people make a golden calf and worship it. G‑d proposes to destroy the errant nation, but Moses intercedes on their behalf.

[theshepherdshound]

i have debated saying this for a few days as i still dunno fully how this website works, but considering i've been writing a fic about it for months and how this week has gone i think some folks need to hear it right now

you are not above doing terrible things to survive, and the worse boundaries you have the more likely it is you will whether it's by choice or not. your desire to survive and your fear can be used against you as a siren song to convince you at minimum that being complacent isn't violence if you are currently not othered

not doing something is a choice, and it is a violent one.

this is not a moral distinction it's a horrifying truth- anyone backed into a corner will make choices to survive; you, me, anyone. history shows this- that's the point of dividing folks. kick the guilt about it out and prepare for actually dealing with it if you haven't already

if you struggle with saying no, if you struggle with lying on the behalf of others' safety, if you struggle with denying authority; go practice, right now, with friends if you can. make it a game; how fast can you reply, how long can you ramble, time yourself and whoever ranks highest gets a cookie

if you have a wedge of privilege learn to use it as noncompliance; weaponize incompetence, cry on demand, become forgetful, escort folks, give bad directions, use privilege as an annoyance

if you have resources; do research, share resources and knowledge, help folks with paperwork, provide sanctuary, watch folks kids or pets if needed, volunteer your time or give money, learn new skills and teach them to each other

and spread joy- i mean this so seriously; make music together, share food with your neighbours, dance together, have your favourite tea, make jokes, be silly, play games together, get a penpal. starve out doom with joy

there is no other, there is only us

don't comply in advance, keep up to date on what is happening, learn to meet folks in your community where they are and work on coalition building skills, download signal to start talking to folks, travel together and keep tabs on one another. choose a thing and do it, trying to do all of the things at once will burn you out. Someone does phone calls, another keeps the spreadsheets up to date, so on

folks probably ain going to like this suggestion, but read Conflict Is Not Abuse and reframe how you might approach boundary and solidarity building within community- don't do the labour of division

i want you to survive, to be safe, stranger who reads this- and i love you; if you feel alone right now there is one stranger out in the world who wants you to survive, and we survive together

[cdr2002]

Mirror Universe Concepts: Lower Decks main cast

Season 5 is here, might as well share this

Beckett Mariner

Daughter of Carol and Alonzo Freeman, Mariner was born in an Alliance slave camp on Earth. Though her parents did their best to try and keep her out of trouble, Mariner was rebellious by nature and often clashed with Alliance overseers, resulting in harsh punishments including solitary confinement and torture. Prone to using her voice as a weapon, Mariner would mock and belittle her oppressors throughout these punishments, only kept alive because the Klingon overseers found her spirit admirable and the Cardassians were amused by her wit. Mariner never succumbed to any attempt to break her, and even wore her scars proudly, much as her behavior deeply worried her mother and resulted in several arguments.

Eventually, Mariner started a small rebellion in the slave camp, intent on killing or incapacitating the overseers and escaping on a freighter owned by a Ferengi trader that Mariner had gotten into contact with made some deals with, typically using money pickpocketed from overseers or from privileged Alliance-collaborating Terrans. The slave riot that kicked off Mariner’s rebellion would also be its end. Many of her fellow slaves were less equipped for combat than her, and nearly all of them were killed by the overseers during the struggle. Though Mariner successfully killed dozens of her oppressors during the fight, the constant death of friends and even her own father around her finally broke her like no amount of torture ever could. In the end she was fighting just to fight, and would only be saved from death, a death she practically wanted by this point, by two things: the intervention of a Klingon warrior named K’orin, who found her cause and spirit honorable, and the timely arrival of Quimp, her Ferengi contact, aboard a cloaked ship. Contacting her over the communicator she had smuggled into the camp, Quimp urged Mariner that it was time to go, and her surviving allies: K’orin, her then-girlfriend Amina Ramsey, and her mother, saw his wisdom in the matter. Quimp successfully beamed Mariner and the other survivors aboard and then fled Alliance space as quickly as possible.

Though managing to escape, Mariner fell into depression. She grew to loathe the universe around her and rarely offered her trust to anyone for fear of putting them in danger. After years of being forced to hide from the Alliance’s attempts to find them and in particular prosecute K’orin for his betrayal, Mariner eventually set out into the universe as a free woman.

Through Quimp’s connections, she managed to acquire a ship: the SS Cerritos. The Cerritos was far from impressive; a run-down, patched together hulk made from dated technology salvaged after the fall of the Terran Empire. While the Alliance allowed the use of a few such ships as freighters, Terran-style configurations typically invited hostility. Exactly what Mariner wanted: a middle finger to their dominance over the Alpha Quadrant and a ship fast and sturdy enough to pull herself and her crew out of scraps, if necessary.

Her crew was small at first. Not able to handle any more violence or death and simply wanting to escape the Alliance, Carol elected to stay in a small Terran sanctuary city on Ferenginar, which the Alliance ignored due to their lucrative dealings with the Ferengi Coalition. K’orin, having sworn a blood oath to Mariner, readily joined her, as did Quimp, worried about his new friend and hoping they would find some business dealings along the way. Ramsey stayed on the Cerritos for a few months, but ultimately decided to leave once she heard word of a large-scale rebellion organizing against the Alliance.

With her ship, Mariner became an infamous troublemaker throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. The mission of the Cerritos was simple: raise as much hell as they could get away with. Antagonizing Alliance patrols, robbing their installations blind, breaking open slave camps and transferring the slaves to safe worlds, simple acts of vandalism. Mariner was known as a pirate, a hero, a terrorist, and a maverick, respected by some and friend to few.

Over time, her crew grew in size, though not without earning her a death mark from the Orion Syndicate. Mariner reveled in her outlaw status, never staying in one place for long and gaining a reputation for fearless abandon. Per a vouching from Ramsey, and even her mother, who found it in herself to fight, the Terran Rebellion became interested in recruiting Mariner as they took to the task of establishing communication within their cells and growing into a larger organization. Afraid of the commitment and the responsibility for more than a small group, Mariner turned them several times and continued to go her own way.

However, the Rebellion has picked up steam recently, performing daring operations like the taking of Terok Nor, and even capturing Regent Worf. With only her own fears holding her back, Mariner could find a cause worth fighting for, an inspiration like that of Starfleet to her prime universe counterpart. But healing such wounds is far from easy.

Bradward Boimler

Born in Modesto California, Boimler’s family had been simple vineyard owners during the time of the Terran Empire. Little ones for violence, they had been supporters of Spock’s reforms and admired him in the waning days of the Empire. When Earth was conquered by the Alliance, the Klingons and Cardassians, fanciers of good drink themselves, contracted the owners of any vineyards who had survived the assault with with producing Kenar, Bloodwine, and any Terran beverages Alliance members had taken a liking to, in exchange for their lives.

Born into this environment, Boimler found the work painfully dull and longed for something more with his life. However, a universe in the fire grip of the Alliance granted him few options. Nonetheless, Boimler had a yearning to explore the galaxy and see what was out there. This desire became so strong that one night, Boimler stole a Cardassian shuttlecraft and set course for the next closest solar system. However, a failure to input the proper verification codes upon reaching orbit and the fear of death forced Boimler to immediately surrender. In the interrogation that followed, his obvious panic meant that there was little need to torture him and he was quickly assessed as a minimal threat. His captors made the decision to transfer Boimler to a labor facility on Vulcan.

The harsh environment ill-suited Boimler. He was easily frightened, not especially strong, and talkative. Exactly the kind of slave the overseers were liable to simply kill and be done with. What saved Boimler’s life was a transporter malfunction that occurred during one of his shifts, duplicating Boimler and creating his twin, William. The accident fascinated Boimler’s overseers, who believed that their transporters could be modified in order to create an infinite supply of slave labor for the Alliance, an accomplishment which would surely greatly advance their careers. More opportunistic and ambitious than his progenitor due to some small variation in their brain chemistry, William offered to assist the research in exchange for being granted the privileged life of an Alliance collaborator for being the cause of this discovery.

In order to prove his sincerity, William goads the overseers to go ahead and shoot Brad. Brad would only be narrowly saved by the intervention of a Vulcan named T’Lyn, a seeming fellow slave to Brad who was in fact an undercover operative for the resistance cell on Vulcan. She short-circuited the transporter remotely with a device she had implanted hours before, leaped into the room, and killed the slave overseers by vaporizing them with a phaser. She attempted to shoot William for being a collaborator, but he managed to grab a Disruptor and fire back, escaping the room. Intuiting that William had no real knowledge on how to recreate the transporter glitch, T’Lyn grabbed Brad and had him beamed to a secure location underground with her, where she explained herself and her mission. Though naturally taking some time to regain his bearings, Brad eventually accepted the situation, and asked to join the Rebellion.

Their higher calling of liberating Terrans, Vulcans, and other races enslaved by the Alliance gave Boimler the worthwhile pursuit he had been searching for all his life. Though the members of the rebel cell on Vulcan were skeptical at first, T’Lyn vouched for Boimler and he was accepted into their ranks, given the training he would need to carry out operations against the Alliance. Now skilled with a phaser, as well as various tactics of infiltration, Boimler became a freedom fighter in earnest, undermining the Alliance regime in conjunction with his allies and learning to overcome some of his own fears. Though Boimler never became one for hand-to-hand combat, he was still nonetheless an effective soldier, and T’Lyn taught him the Vulcan Nerve Pinch in order to make up for that shortcoming.

While fighting as a Rebel, Boimler became an avid follower of the exploits of Captain Beckett Mariner and the SS Cerritos, an outlaw famed for giving the Alliance a bloody nose on more than one occasion.

As the disparate rebel cells began to coalesce after Tuvok managed to get Miles O’Brien’s rebel cell on Terok Nor in contact with the rebels on Vulcan, Boimler personally volunteered for the mission to locate the Cerritos and extend an offer to Captain Mariner.

With T’Lyn offering to accompany him, the mission was approved and the two managed to get themselves onto the ship. Unfortunately, Mariner quickly began causing trouble in the system of their meeting right as they began attempting to make their proposal, forcing Boimler and T’Lyn to become members of her ship’s crew in order to assist in preserving the lives of everyone on board. Braving skirmishes with the Orion Syndicate, the Gorn, and Alliance warships far more powerful than the Cerritos, Boimler is still determined to convince Mariner to take part in the wider rebellion, regardless of the walls she puts up around herself. With time, he may succeed.

D’Vana Tendi

“Mistress of the Winter Constellations”, Tendi comes from a powerful family in the Orion Syndicate. She is the granddaughter of the previous holder of her title, Astrea Tendi, who famously stole an ancient artifact from Terran captain Christopher Pike in the 23rd century, among other accomplishments.

Growing up with immense pressure to fulfill her role as heir to family’s wealth an influence, Tendi chafed against these demands as well as the standards of Orion society as a whole, feeling that her people needlessly limited themselves by pouring their entire cultural resources into their vast criminal empire rather than allowing individuals to pursue other interests. Tendi herself developed a fascination with the sciences at a young age, and dreamt of a life of discovery, exploration, and adventure. These values closely matched that of the Federation Starfleet, but were seldom respected in the Orion Syndicate or elsewhere in the mirror universe. As she reluctantly carried out the family business alongside her sister D’Erika, Tendi would take exceptionally well to the training and various skills her family provided her.

She would also come to despise the Syndicate’s dealings with the Alliance. While the Orions were certainly exploiters, assassins, and thieves, careers Tendi had no taste for, they had long abandoned outright slavering, an act the Alliance almost seemed to specialize in. Though her family tried to explain to her that appeasing the Alliance was simply part of life due to their dominance over the Alpha Quadrant, this was the last straw and Tendi knew she had to leave this life behind.

She would find her escape in the form of outlaw captain Beckett Mariner, who docked her ship at a repair station owned by Tendi’s family after a battle with Alliance forces. Her scientific personal studies having led her to studying various technologies, including those of the fallen Terran Empire, Tendi took a personal interest in repairing the ship. Her skill at optimizing the outdated technology and even fusing it with some contemporary Orion equipment impressed Mariner, and she offered to find some way of repaying her personally. Tendi’s price was escape from the Orion Syndicate, who were already maneuvering to capture the Cerritos and its crew to collect a bounty from the Alliance. Using her inside knowledge to thwart the trap, Tendi quickly earned herself a spot as Second Officer of the Cerritos and the respect and trust of Mariner and the crew. Mariner reacted surprisingly positively to the death mark from the Syndicate, believing it advanced her reputation.

In gratitude for her invaluable contributions, Tendi was allowed the sway to suggest possible sites of scientific observation for the ship, pursuing her passion as much as she could without leaving the ship in one place for too long. This would remain more or less status quo until the arrival of resistance fighters T’Lyn and Boimler, who sought to recruit the Cerritos crew into the growing Rebellion. Tendi was sympathetic to them and was in favor of joining, but Mariner’s reluctance put that idea at the very least on pause. Nonetheless, Tendi has befriended the two Rebellion representatives and is hopeful that the races under Alliance rule can achieve the same freedom of choice she herself sought in breaking away from the Syndicate.

Samanthan Rutherford

Thrill-seeking, rambunctious, and only respectful of authority when it suited his own ends, Rutherford was practically born a rebel. Once he was old enough to be suitable for labor, he was stationed on an Alliance shipyard, where he immersed himself in the study of engines, general starship design, program design, and most especially, speed. Rutherford took in as much knowledge as he could, much impressing his overseers. He became one of the most productive slaves at the facility, refitting dozens of Alliance warships and making improvements to their overall performance. The overseers were so impressed with Rutherford that they failed to keep a close enough eye on him to realize two things: that every Alliance ship he worked on had been outfitted with a sabotage code designed to go off the moment said ship locked their weapons on any Terran life signs, and that Rutherford had been building his own personal ship using parts he gradually stole for himself while working the yard.

After seven months, the small ship was complete, and outfitted with one of the fastest and most compact warp drives in the Quadrant. One night, Rutherford took his ship, the Sampaguita, and made a rush for the Romulan Neutral Zone, which he knew the Alliance vessels wouldn’t pursue him into even if they caught up to him. Skillfully evading the Romulan detection grid, Rutherford took off for parts unknown and began his new life as a free man.

Engaging in illicit ship racing, gambling, and becoming a mercenary engineer, selling his skills at ship repair and enhancement to the highest bidder in the underworld of the Galaxy.

Eventually, another rogue would contact Rutherford: Captain Beckett Mariner, in need of his services to repair the SS Cerritos after another round of damages suffered antagonizing the Alliance. Rutherford would impress the crew, particularly Mariner’s technically skilled Second Officer D’Vana Tendi, with his repairs, optimizing the ship’s systems, further bringing them up to spec with modern technology despite the Cerritos’s century-old Terran frame, and enhancing the capabilities of its shield and warp drive.

Tendi suggested hiring Rutherford onto the crew due to his capabilities, but Mariner was reluctant to give herself the responsibility for another life, and respected Rutherford’s free-spirited nature too much to attempt to pin him down. Ultimately however, Rutherford would be forced to join the crew after Alliance agents caught up with him, seeking to interrogate Rutherford to determine the extent his sabotage work as a slave engineer had affected their fleet.

In the fight ensued, Rutherford docked the Sampaguita, damaged from battle, in the Cerritos’s shuttle bay, before the ship managed to take out two Alliance warships and escape into Ferengi space, where trade agreements forbid pursuit. From then on, Rutherford accepted the position of Chief Engineer aboard the Cerritos, and took part in much of the ship’s troublemaking misadventures from then on.

Due to their respective natures, Rutherford and Mariner would often butt heads and argue, forcing Tendi to be a peacemaker between them. Fortunately, their underlying respect for one another led them to always eventually see reason. Though he hated the Alliance, Rutherford was among the crewmembers skeptical of joining the Terran Rebellion. However upon suffering a nearly fatal injury and being given a cybernetic implant which saved him by Vulcan surgeons, Rutherford would find in his gratitude that he could do nothing less than give his commitment to the cause.

T’Lyn

Born into slavery on Qo’Nos, T’Lyn was the daughter of two house servants owned by a Klingon regent. Her parents raised her in the Vulcan way, as allowed by the Alliance because of the belief that Vulcan logic produced more disciplined servants. However, the strong emotions of the Klingons around her did leave an impression.

When T’Lyn was in her mid teens, her master took her and her family on a trip to Vulcan to meet with a Cardassian gul to whom he was a political ally.

The two were scheming the elimination of a rival and their plan involved the implementation of explosive devices inside the bodies of T’Lyn’s parents to hide their bombs in plain. T’Lyn was horrified and objected, but was knocked unconscious and unable to prevent the procedure. She was kept alive because her master needed a house servant, but he threatened to kill her if she spoke up again.

The two powerful men organized a meeting with their rival and offered him T’Lyn’s parents as a supposed sign of goodwill.

Before things could go further, the meeting was attacked by the Vulcan Resistance, who were seeking to take out high ranking Alliance officials while they were gathered in one place.

During the chaos, T’Lyn managed to grab a Disruptor from a dead Klingon guard and joined forces with the rebels in order to save her parents and achieve freedom. Unfortunately, the explosive devices embedded in them were activated, and T’Lyn was forced to watch her parents die.

After that, she made sure that every Alliance member at the meeting was killed with quick and savant-like marksmanship. She had learned a fair amount just from observation in all these years. Were she not Vulcan, the display might appear as rage. Once the battle was over, she was counseled by the leader of the rebel attack, Sokel. He suggested that it would be logical to channel her feelings towards the liberation of the oppressed throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.

T’Lyn accepted and began training in various aspects of combat, infiltration, espionage, and assassination by the Vulcan underground. She would also be trained in various forms of Vulcan meditation to assist in coping with her trauma, though she remained with an underlying passion that fueled her as a fighter. She became an efficient and deadly fighter, but also a compassionate field medic and liberator, doing her best to free Alliance slaves and help their own recoveries as best she could.

Eventually however, T’Lyn would suffer another loss when Sokel was killed in a skirmish with Alliance forces, driving her into a depression for a number of weeks.

After finding it in herself to begin actively fighting again, T’Lyn succeeded in the liberation of Brad Boimler from an Alliance facility, preventing the Alliance from exploiting transporter duplicates as a source of labor. She assisted in his training and eventually accompanied him to the raider ship SS Cerritos in order to recruit Captain Mariner into the growing Rebellion. T’Lyn’s patience has proven to be her most valuable asset in this endeavor.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Pauktuutit Inuit Women of Canada is expressing support for a proposed Inuit women’s shelter in Ottawa that is facing resistance from residents.

In a statement Wednesday, the national Inuit women’s organization said that “in response to recent reporting about the proposed women’s shelter in Ottawa’s south end,” it supports the Ottawa Aboriginal Coalition’s efforts to build the facility.

Ottawa’s Gloucester-Southgate Coun. Jessica Bradley held an information session for residents Tuesday over a proposed transfer of a vacant city-owned lot in the Hunt Club neighbourhood to the coalition.

The lot would then become the site of a new shelter dedicated for Inuit women and children fleeing violence.

“This sanctuary will provide Inuit women and their children with a safe, healthy, and culturally appropriate place to live and heal in a welcoming family-oriented neighbourhood with great access to schools, parks, and greenspace,” Bradley said in a news update posted to her website. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland, @vague-humanoid

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Now that I have your attention:

[steelbluehome]

I know this is long, but I am not putting it under a Read More cut because I think it needs all of the attention it can get, so sorry about the annoyance.

Dear Democratic Party,

I need more from you.

You keep sending emails begging for $15,

while we’re watching fascism consolidate power in real time.

This administration is not simply “a different ideology.”

It is a coordinated, authoritarian machine — with the Supreme Court, the House, the Senate, and the executive pen all under its control.

And you?

You’re still asking for decorum and donations. WTF.

That won’t save us.

I don’t want to hear another polite floor speech.

I want strategy.

I want fire.

I want action so bold it shifts the damn news cycle — not fits inside one.

Every time I see something from the DNC, it’s asking me for funds.

Surprise.

Those of us who donate don’t want to keep sending money just to watch you stand frozen as the Constitution goes up in flames — shaking your heads and saying,

“Well, there’s not much we can do. He has the majority.”

I call bullshit.

If you don’t know how to think outside the box…

If you don’t know how to strategize…

If you don’t know how to fight fire with fire…

what the hell are we giving you money for?

Some of us have two or three advanced degrees.

Some of us have military training.

Some of us know what coordinated resistance looks like — and this ain’t it.

Yes, the tours around the country? Nice.

The speeches? Nice.

The clever congressional clapbacks? Nice.

That was great for giving hope.

Now we need action.

You have to stop acting like this is a normal presidency that will just time out in four years.

We’re not even at Day 90, and look at the chaos.

Look at the disappearances.

Look at the erosion of the judiciary, the press, and our rights.

If you do not stop this, we will not make it 1,460 days.

So here’s what I need from you — right now:

⸻

1. Form an independent, civilian-powered investigative coalition.

I’m talking experts. Veterans. Whistleblowers. Journalists. Watchdog orgs.

Deputize the resistance. Build a real-time archive of corruption, overreach, and executive abuse.

Make it public. Make it unshakable.

Let the people drag the rot into the light.

If you can’t hold formal hearings, hold public ones.

If Congress won’t act, let the country act.

This isn’t about optics — it’s about receipts.

Because at some point, these people will be held accountable.

And when that day comes, we’ll need every name, every signature, every illegal order, every act of silence—documented.

You’re not just preserving truth — you’re preparing evidence for prosecution.

The more they vanish people and weaponize data, the more we need truth in the sunlight.

⸻

2. Join the International Criminal Court.

Yes, I said it. Call their bluff.

You cannot control what the other side does.

But you can control your own integrity.

So prove it. Prove that your party is still grounded in law, human rights, and ethical leadership.

Join.

If you’ve got nothing to hide — join.

Show the world who’s hiding bodies, bribes, and buried bank accounts.

Force the GOP to explain why they’d rather protect a war criminal than sign a treaty.

And while you’re at it, publicly invite ICC observers into U.S. borders.

Make this administration explain — on camera — why they’re terrified of international oversight.

⸻

3. Fund state-level resistance infrastructure.

Don’t just send postcards. Send resources.

Channel DNC funds into rapid-response teams, legal defense coalitions, sanctuary networks, and digital security training.

If the federal government is hijacked, build power underneath it.

If the laws become tools of oppression, help people resist them legally, locally, and boldly.

This is not campaign season — this is an authoritarian purge.

Stop campaigning.

Act like this is the end of democracy, because it is.

We WILL REMEMBER the warriors come primaries.

Fighting this regime should be your marketing strategy.

And let’s be clear:

The reason the other side always seems three steps ahead is because they ARE.

They prepared for this.

They infiltrated school boards, courts, local legislatures, and police unions.

They built a machine while you wrote press releases.

We’re reacting — they’ve been executing a plan for years.

It’s time to shift from panic to blueprint.

You should already be working with strategists and military minds on PROJECT 2029 —

a coordinated, long-term plan to rebuild this country when the smoke clears.

You should be publicly laying out:

• The laws and amendments you’ll pass to ensure this never happens again

• The systems you’ll tear down and the safeguards you’ll enshrine

• The plan to hold perpetrators of human atrocities accountable

• The urgent commitment to immediately bring home those sold into slavery in El Salvador

You say you’re the party of the people?

Then show the people the plan.

⸻

4. Use your platform to educate the public on rights and resistance tactics.

If they’re going to strip us of rights and lie about it — arm the people with truth.

Text campaigns. Mass trainings. Downloadable “Know Your Rights” kits. Multilingual legal guides. Encrypted phone trees.

Give people tools, not soundbites.

We don’t need more slogans.

We need survival manuals.

⸻

5. Leverage international media and watchdogs.

Stop hoping U.S. cable news will wake up.

They’re too busy playing both sides of fascism.

Feed the real stories to BBC, Al Jazeera, The Guardian, Reuters, Der Spiegel — hell, leak them to anonymous dropboxes if you have to.

Make what’s happening in America a global scandal.

And stop relying on platforms that are actively suppressing truth.

Start leveraging Substack. Use Bluesky.

That’s where the resistance is migrating. That’s where censorship hasn’t caught up.

If the mainstream won’t carry the truth — outflank them.

Get creative. Go underground. Go global.

If our democracy is being dismantled in broad daylight, make sure the whole world sees it — and make sure we’re still able to say it.

⸻

6. Create a digital safe haven for whistleblowers and defectors.

Not everyone inside this regime is loyal.

Some are scared. Some want out.

Build the channels.

Encrypted. Anonymous. Protected.

Make it easy for the cracks in the system to become gaping holes.

And while you’re at it?

Stop ostracizing MAGA defectors.

Everyone makes mistakes — even glaring, critical ones.

We are not the bullies.

We are not the ones filled with hate.

And it is not your job to shame people who finally saw the fire and chose to step out of it.

They will have to deal with that internal struggle — the guilt of putting a very dangerous and callous regime in power.

But they’re already outnumbered. Don’t push them back into the crowd.

We don’t need purity.

We need numbers.

We need people willing to burn their red hats and testify against the machine they helped build.

⸻

7. Study the collapse—and the comeback.

You should be learning from South Korea and how they managed their brief rule under dictatorship.

They didn’t waste time chasing the one man with absolute immunity.

They went after the structure.

The aides. The enforcers. The loyalists. The architects.

They knocked out the foundation one pillar at a time —

until the “strongman” had no one left to stand on.

And his power crumbled beneath him.

You should be independently investigating every author of Project 2025,

every aide who defies court orders,

every communications director repeating lies,

every policy writer enabling cruelty,

every water boy who keeps this engine running.

You can’t stop a regime by asking the king to sit down.

You dismantle the throne he’s standing on — one coward at a time.

⸻

Stop being scared to fight dirty when the other side is fighting to erase the damn Constitution.

They are threatening to disappear AMERICANS.

A M E R I C A N S.

And your biggest move can’t be another strongly worded email.

We don’t want your urgently fundraising subject lines.

We want backbone.

We want action.

We want to know you’ll stand up before we’re all ordered to sit down — permanently.

We are watching.

And I don’t just mean your base.

I mean millions of us who see exactly what’s happening.

I’ve only got 6,000 followers — but the groups I’m in? The networks I touch? Over a quarter million.

Often when I speak, it echoes.

But when we ALL

speak, it ROARS with pressure that will cause change.

We need to be deafening.

You still have a chance to do something historic.

To be remembered for courage, not caution.

To go down as the party that didn’t just watch the fall — but fought the hell back with everything they had.

But the clock is ticking.

And the deportation buses are idling.

- Dr. Pru Lee

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

If you support this, please reblog it, and share it anywhere and everywhere you can. Just please remember to keep Dr. Pru Lee's name on it. Thanks

[labelleizzy]

Dear Democratic Party,

I need more from you.

You keep sending emails begging for $15,

while we’re watching fascism consolidate power in real time.

This administration is not simply “a different ideology.”

It is a coordinated, authoritarian machine — with the Supreme Court, the House, the Senate, and the executive pen all under its control.

And you?

You’re still asking for decorum and donations. WTF.

That won’t save us.

I don’t want to hear another polite floor speech.

I want strategy.

I want fire.

I want action so bold it shifts the damn news cycle — not fits inside one.

Every time I see something from the DNC, it’s asking me for funds.

Surprise.

Those of us who donate don’t want to keep sending money just to watch you stand frozen as the Constitution goes up in flames — shaking your heads and saying,

“Well, there’s not much we can do. He has the majority.”

I call bullshit.

If you don’t know how to think outside the box…

If you don’t know how to strategize…

If you don’t know how to fight fire with fire…

what the hell are we giving you money for?

Some of us have two or three advanced degrees.

Some of us have military training.

Some of us know what coordinated resistance looks like — and this ain’t it.

Yes, the tours around the country? Nice.

The speeches? Nice.

The clever congressional clapbacks? Nice.

That was great for giving hope.

Now we need action.

You have to stop acting like this is a normal presidency that will just time out in four years.

We’re not even at Day 90, and look at the chaos.

Look at the disappearances.

Look at the erosion of the judiciary, the press, and our rights.

If you do not stop this, we will not make it 1,460 days.

So here’s what I need from you — right now:

⸻

1. Form an independent, civilian-powered investigative coalition.

I’m talking experts. Veterans. Whistleblowers. Journalists. Watchdog orgs.

Deputize the resistance. Build a real-time archive of corruption, overreach, and executive abuse.

Make it public. Make it unshakable.

Let the people drag the rot into the light.

If you can’t hold formal hearings, hold public ones.

If Congress won’t act, let the country act.

This isn’t about optics — it’s about receipts.

Because at some point, these people will be held accountable.

And when that day comes, we’ll need every name, every signature, every illegal order, every act of silence—documented.

You’re not just preserving truth — you’re preparing evidence for prosecution.

The more they vanish people and weaponize data, the more we need truth in the sunlight.

⸻

2. Join the International Criminal Court.

Yes, I said it. Call their bluff.

You cannot control what the other side does.

But you can control your own integrity.

So prove it. Prove that your party is still grounded in law, human rights, and ethical leadership.

Join.

If you’ve got nothing to hide — join.

Show the world who’s hiding bodies, bribes, and buried bank accounts.

Force the GOP to explain why they’d rather protect a war criminal than sign a treaty.

And while you’re at it, publicly invite ICC observers into U.S. borders.

Make this administration explain — on camera — why they’re terrified of international oversight.

⸻

3. Fund state-level resistance infrastructure.

Don’t just send postcards. Send resources.

Channel DNC funds into rapid-response teams, legal defense coalitions, sanctuary networks, and digital security training.

If the federal government is hijacked, build power underneath it.

If the laws become tools of oppression, help people resist them legally, locally, and boldly.

This is not campaign season — this is an authoritarian purge.

Stop campaigning.

Act like this is the end of democracy, because it is.

We WILL REMEMBER the warriors come primaries.

Fighting this regime should be your marketing strategy.

And let’s be clear:

The reason the other side always seems three steps ahead is because they ARE.

They prepared for this.

They infiltrated school boards, courts, local legislatures, and police unions.

They built a machine while you wrote press releases.

We’re reacting — they’ve been executing a plan for years.

It’s time to shift from panic to blueprint.

You should already be working with strategists and military minds on PROJECT 2029 —

a coordinated, long-term plan to rebuild this country when the smoke clears.

You should be publicly laying out:

• The laws and amendments you’ll pass to ensure this never happens again

• The systems you’ll tear down and the safeguards you’ll enshrine

• The plan to hold perpetrators of human atrocities accountable

• The urgent commitment to immediately bring home those sold into slavery in El Salvador

You say you’re the party of the people?

Then show the people the plan.

⸻

4. Use your platform to educate the public on rights and resistance tactics.

If they’re going to strip us of rights and lie about it — arm the people with truth.

Text campaigns. Mass trainings. Downloadable “Know Your Rights” kits. Multilingual legal guides. Encrypted phone trees.

Give people tools, not soundbites.

We don’t need more slogans.

We need survival manuals.

⸻

5. Leverage international media and watchdogs.

Stop hoping U.S. cable news will wake up.

They’re too busy playing both sides of fascism.

Feed the real stories to BBC, Al Jazeera, The Guardian, Reuters, Der Spiegel — hell, leak them to anonymous dropboxes if you have to.

Make what’s happening in America a global scandal.

And stop relying on platforms that are actively suppressing truth.

Start leveraging Substack. Use Bluesky.

That’s where the resistance is migrating. That’s where censorship hasn’t caught up.

If the mainstream won’t carry the truth — outflank them.

Get creative. Go underground. Go global.

If our democracy is being dismantled in broad daylight, make sure the whole world sees it — and make sure we’re still able to say it.

⸻

6. Create a digital safe haven for whistleblowers and defectors.

Not everyone inside this regime is loyal.

Some are scared. Some want out.

Build the channels.

Encrypted. Anonymous. Protected.

Make it easy for the cracks in the system to become gaping holes.

And while you’re at it?

Stop ostracizing MAGA defectors.

Everyone makes mistakes — even glaring, critical ones.

We are not the bullies.

We are not the ones filled with hate.

And it is not your job to shame people who finally saw the fire and chose to step out of it.

They will have to deal with that internal struggle — the guilt of putting a very dangerous and callous regime in power.

But they’re already outnumbered. Don’t push them back into the crowd.

We don’t need purity.

We need numbers.

We need people willing to burn their red hats and testify against the machine they helped build.

⸻

7. Study the collapse—and the comeback.

You should be learning from South Korea and how they managed their brief rule under dictatorship.

They didn’t waste time chasing the one man with absolute immunity.

They went after the structure.

The aides. The enforcers. The loyalists. The architects.

They knocked out the foundation one pillar at a time —

until the “strongman” had no one left to stand on.

And his power crumbled beneath him.

You should be independently investigating every author of Project 2025,

every aide who defies court orders,

every communications director repeating lies,

every policy writer enabling cruelty,

every water boy who keeps this engine running.

You can’t stop a regime by asking the king to sit down.

You dismantle the throne he’s standing on — one coward at a time.

⸻

Stop being scared to fight dirty when the other side is fighting to erase the damn Constitution.

They are threatening to disappear AMERICANS.

A M E R I C A N S.

And your biggest move can’t be another strongly worded email.

We don’t want your urgently fundraising subject lines.

We want backbone.

We want action.

We want to know you’ll stand up before we’re all ordered to sit down — permanently.

We are watching.

And I don’t just mean your base.

I mean millions of us who see exactly what’s happening.

I’ve only got 6,000 followers — but the groups I’m in? The networks I touch? Over a quarter million.

Often when I speak, it echoes.

But when we ALL

speak, it ROARS with pressure that will cause change.

We need to be deafening.

You still have a chance to do something historic.

To be remembered for courage, not caution.

To go down as the party that didn’t just watch the fall — but fought the hell back with everything they had.

But the clock is ticking.

And the deportation buses are idling.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Erin Reed at Erin In The Morning:

According to a Fox News poll released Wednesday, Kamala Harris holds a 2-point lead over Donald Trump. However, the most intriguing takeaway isn't the topline result, but rather the details on a growing Republican line of attack in 2024: transgender issues. When asked who voters trust most to handle a variety of topics, Harris leads on most, such as abortion, health care, and election integrity. However, her lead is among the strongest on one particular issue: transgender rights.

When voters were asked whom they trust to handle transgender issues, Harris leads Trump by 16 points. This margin mirrors her lead on abortion and is just slightly behind her advantage on climate change, where she performs best. Harris’s lead on transgender issues suggests that highlighting this topic in the election may backfire for Trump, potentially weakening his chances the more Republicans push the issue to the forefront. The situation for Trump does not improve when examining the crosstabs. Harris holds a commanding lead over Trump on transgender issues across several demographic groups, including some that might come as a surprise. For example, she is ahead by 10 points among men. Her advantage widens further among likely voters, where she leads by 17 points. Among voters aged 65 and older, her lead extends to 21 points. Even among Independents and swing state voters, Harris is ahead by 19 points and 10 points, respectively.

This focus on swing state voters is particularly significant, given the heightened attention on transgender issues in this election cycle. On September 1st, the prominent conservative super PAC, Senate Leadership Fund, launched the first wave of an $80 million ad buy targeting swing-state senators up for re-election in Ohio and Pennsylvania. A substantial portion of these ads center around anti-trans rhetoric, accusing Democratic Senate candidates of supporting policies that would “allow puberty blockers and sex change surgeries for minor children” and “permit transgender biological men to compete in women’s sports.” Trump himself has repeatedly featured anti-trans attacks against Harris during this election cycle. On multiple occasions, he has made the baseless claim that teachers are performing sex change surgeries on children, sending them home as “another gender.” He has also targeted Minnesota Governor Tim Walz for policies that establish Minnesota as a sanctuary state for transgender individuals��fleeing anti-trans legislation in other states. Trump has promised to enact sweeping anti-trans measures on day one if elected, including a total ban on gender-affirming care for transgender youth, the establishment of national bathroom bans for trans students, and the elimination of federal funding for all transgender care. Such policies could have devastating consequences, particularly for transgender adults who rely on health insurance marketplace subsidies to afford their care.

The latest Fox News Poll, in conjunction with Democratic-affiliated Beacon Research and Republican-affiliated Shaw and Company Research conducted between September 13th and 16th, revealed that Kamala Harris (D) is leading 50%-48% over Donald Trump (R)

The real eye-popper is that Harris leads Trump by 16% [56% KH-40% DT] on the transgender issues question, despite Republican attempts to use trans issues as a wedge to cleave off small parts of the Democratic coalition based on flimsy “protect women’s rights”/”protect the children” arguments.

[melhyan]

Found this old draft from 2 years ago, a Witcher 3/Dragon Age dnd campaign:

Settings Overview:

The world is a fusion of Thedas and the Continent. The convergence was caused by a cataclysmic event known as the Confluence of Worlds, where the Veil was torn, merging the realms. The Wild Hunt and the Fade have intermingled, creating an unstable world filled with dangerous rifts and eldritch entities. Witchers, Wardens, and mages alike scramble to understand this new reality while kingdoms wage war over resources, land, and newfound powers.

New Factions & Characters

Factions

The Riftborn – A mysterious group of individuals who claim to have been born in the aftermath of the Confluence. They possess strange abilities that mimic both Witcher mutations and Fade magic.

The Blighted Hunt – A hybrid of darkspawn and spectral riders led by a corrupted Wild Hunt general. They seek to bring about the end of all worlds.

The Ivory Accord – A coalition of scholars, Witchers, and mages working to repair the Veil and prevent further catastrophes.

Key NPCs

Svala an Aen Ithlinnean: A former elven seer who witnessed the Confluence and now serves as the Riftborn leader. She has a prophetic air but is deeply conflicted.

Seren Vael: A human Grey Warden who wields a corrupted Witcher blade, struggling to resist the taint spreading through him.

Lorian Fen'Athul: A Tevinter mage who experiments with elder Witcher mutagens, hoping to create a new line of superhuman warriors.

" The air carries the scent of burnt wood and damp soil, mingling with the iron tang of blood. A chill clings to your skin, seeping through even the thickest of cloaks. Ardmire’s Hollow, once a bustling crossroads where merchants and travelers mingled, now lies in ruin. Its cobbled streets are cracked, strewn with debris, and the remnants of its buildings lean like broken ribs against a bleak, gray sky. Windows gape open like empty sockets, their frames charred black by the fires that consumed them. A toppled signpost lies in the muck, its faded letters half-buried and unreadable.

Thick, unnatural mist crawls across the ground, swirling in patterns that seem deliberate, as if guided by unseen hands. It clings to your boots and rises in faint tendrils, carrying faint whispers. They scrape at the edges of your mind—soft, incomprehensible, yet undeniably there. Sometimes the whispers resolve into snatches of words, or perhaps names. One might call it the wind… if not for the eerie cadence, as though the mist itself is alive.

You’ve each come to Ardmire’s Hollow for your own reasons. Some noble, driven by duty or a quest for knowledge. Others desperate, seeking sanctuary, revenge, or profit among the ruins. Whatever your purpose, fate—or perhaps something far darker—has drawn you all to the same place. Now, you stand together in the hollow’s town square, surrounded by shadows and the oppressive weight of a silence that feels almost alive.

The square is dominated by a rift: a jagged tear in the fabric of reality. It looms in the center, suspended above the ground like a wound bleeding light and darkness in equal measure. From it spills a cold, pulsating blue glow, broken by swirling tendrils of shadow that coil and writhe like living things. The shapes within are strange, too fluid to be solid, too defined to be mere shadows. At times, they resemble faces—anguished, screaming faces that vanish as quickly as they form.

Your breath fogs in the cold air as you stare at the rift. The longer you look, the more it seems to pull at you, like a deep ocean current dragging you toward its unfathomable depths. The very ground beneath it is corrupted, the cobblestones warped and slick with a strange, blackened ichor that seems to pulse in time with the rift’s light.

Then, without warning, the rift flares. A burst of searing light blinds you for a moment, and a low, resonant hum reverberates through the square, shaking the ground and rattling the ruined buildings. The mist recoils, scattering like frightened animals. From the rift’s center, a figure stumbles out—a woman, her clothes tattered and stained with blood, her face pale and gaunt.

She collapses at your feet, gasping for air. One hand clutches at her side where blood seeps between her fingers; the other holds tightly to a shard of what appears to be broken mirror glass. The shard glints faintly, reflecting not just the cold light of the rift, but other images—ones that don’t match the ruined square around you. A burning forest. A dark cavern. A face you don’t recognize, staring back at you with piercing eyes.

The woman’s voice trembles as she gasps, “The riders… they’re coming.” She struggles to lift her head, her eyes darting toward the rift and then to you. “Protect… the shard.” Her words fade into a choking cough as her body goes limp, the shard slipping from her grasp and landing in the mud with a dull thud.

The rift flares again, brighter this time. The air grows colder, and the whispers in the mist grow louder, rising to an almost deafening crescendo. Shapes begin to emerge from the edges of the fog—inhuman forms that don’t walk so much as slither, their bodies twisted and shimmering as though they exist only partially in this world.

The rift pulses once more, and the first creature lunges into the square...."

... From the archives, some snippets from that Dragon Age/Witcher DnD campaign everyone adored two years ago… until planning sessions turned into combat sessions. 🗺️➡️⚔️ Rip to the dream X'D😔💔

[2baddiesfanfics]

A World Without Fear

Pairing: Kafka x Himeko

Tags: Alternate Universe, Vampires, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Werewolves, Werewolf Sex, Breeding, Kafka Has a Penis (Honkai: Star Rail)

Summary:

As a half-vampire and werewolf mixed couple, Himeko and Kafka have been on the run from the IPC (Inhuman Paranormal Containment) group for a long time. When they hear the government group's reign of terror has been brought to an end, they dare to dream of a future with a family. 

Read on Ao3

The crimson-haired woman was sitting on the couch perusing her book when a loud noise ripped her attention from the tale. 

“We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. We’ve just received word that the IPC has been dismantled and its members will face severe punishment for their crimes.”

Himeko couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Kafka! Come quick!”

“What could possibly be so urgent that you’ve got to shout like that?” Her wife inquired from the adjoining room.

“Shh! This is important! Hurry!”

Her partner rolled her eyes but came to sit next to her. As soon as she saw the words flashing onscreen, she immediately shut her mouth.

“The government group Inhuman Paranormal Containment, more commonly known as the IPC, has officially been disbanded. Many members have been found guilty of mistreating non-human citizens in their care. Originally formed as a coalition to rehabilitate entities that had turned feral after being reintroduced to society, they’ve been exposed in having committed such atrocities as separating families, torture, illegal experimentation, enslavement, and forced military service. Under antiquated intergalactic law, those of mixed race, as well as those involved in interspecies relationships, faced harsh discrimination unchecked – but no longer. Today marks the dawn of a new era for all, regardless of race or origin.”

The anchor continued, but all the couple could hear was a dull hum. Himeko slid her hand on top of Kafka’s, speaking in total disbelief.

“They finally stopped them,” she whispered, biting her quivering lip with protruding fangs.

“It’s been so long…and we’ve been through so much. Are we sure this isn’t an elaborate scheme to get us to come out of hiding?” Kafka questioned.

Himeko blinked back long-held tears of relief. “It has to be true. This channel is broadcast to the furthest reaches of the universe. I can’t believe it. We’re finally safe here…anywhere.”

Kafka turned to face her. “It feels like we’ve been running for eons. When I first fell for you, I knew we’d have to leave our home planet…I just never thought we’d have a chance like this in our lifetime. We’re…finally free.”

A soft chuckle from Himeko diffused the tension in the room. “Hah…who would have thought a half-vampire marrying a werewolf would cause so much hatred. Do you regret it?”

“Do I regret it? What, us? Absolutely not. I would do it a thousand times over if it meant I got to spend eternity with you, my little bat,” she said as she squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Why? Do you?”

Himeko’s gaze softened. “Never. The endless fleeing and sleepless nights not knowing if we would make it to this sanctuary made it quite an interesting honeymoon. Good thing I had my big, bad, protective wolf by my side. I never had anything to worry about in the first place,” she joked.

“We do make quite the odd couple, don’t we? I suppose all that matters now is not only are we safe, but all present and future non-humans are as well. It gives me hope for the next generation…well, now that there might actually be a next generation,” Kafka thought out loud.

Releasing her hand, Himeko reached for her wife’s ears and stroked them tenderly snapping her out of her trance.

“Mmmm, careful, love. It’s that time of my cycle and once I start, I won’t be able to stop,” Kafka growled in warning. 

“Is that so?” Himeko whispered seductively. “Well…you know how we’ve always wanted to start a family?” Kafka’s ears perked up at the mention of her heart’s desire, her tail wagging in anticipation.

“…go on.”

“Since we’re finally safe…why don’t you hurry up and put some pups in me?” Himeko kissed Kafka’s cheek and moved close to murmur in her ear. “That is…if you still want to.”

A rumbling started in the werewolf’s chest. “Like you’d even have to ask. When were you thinking of trying?”

“Oh, I don’t know…how about now?” Himeko teased as she slid her hand into her wife’s pants. Kafka’s member immediately snapped to full attention and she had to stop herself from howling. The other woman pumped her hand up and down her shaft. Kafka moaned in response as she found Himeko’s lips and snarled into them. Her tongue slid between her wife’s fangs, mimicking the rhythm she’d started below.

Withdrawing her hand Himeko swiftly divested herself of her clothing. As Kafka began to do the same, her wife stopped her.

“No…let me.” The werewolf wasn’t about to argue. Unzipping the other woman’s black pants, Himeko pulled off her underwear and Kafka’s cock sprang free. Her tongue laved the underside of her length, from the top of her balls to her tip already dripping with precum. Sealing her lips around it, she heard Kafka inhale sharply.

“Fuck…Himeko…keep doing that shit and I’m not gonna last long enough to feel you from the inside…”

Ignoring her wife’s protest, she bobbed her head back and forth as she slid her hand between her own thighs and played with her clit. 

Kafka roared when the vampire gently grazed the sides of the shaft with her fangs as she deep-throated her, her own pleasure building as her moans vibrated against her lover. 

“Aeons…baby…” Kafka panted as she the other woman’s wild crimson hair around her fist in an attempt to gain some control of her pacing. Her groans echoed through the small safe haven and her breathing came in erratic pants. Feeling the tell-tale signs her wife was getting close, she stopped.

Before the werewolf could protest, Himeko brought her mouth to hers, tasting herself on her lips.

“I don’t want to waste a drop,” she mumbled against her before moving to straddle her wife. They both moaned loudly at the feeling of her guiding her lover’s cock into her wet folds. Unaware of her own strength, the vampire ripped her wife’s shirt open and buttons went flying. Pulling her in close for a deep kiss, she ground her hips back and forth as she kissed down her neck, stopping to sink her fangs into the already heavily scarred area. Blood trickled from the spot, which she promptly licked clean.

“F-fucking…love you…” Kafka barked with pride – she wore her wife’s bite marks as a badge of honor.

Placing her hands on the werewolf’s shoulders, Himeko began to bounce up and down on her member.

“Ohhhhh, Kafka…you feel…so good…”

“Love…can’t hold…back…” Her wife grunted in response.

“Don’t wait…fill me up…put your pups inside me!” the vampire begged. 

Placing her hands on either side of Himeko’s hips, she slammed into her. 

“Fuck yes, like that!”

With a few more firm strokes, the two came, Kafka’s seed dripping out of her lover.

“I’m not…fucking done…with you yet, pet,” the werewolf snarled. Himeko was never more thankful she decided to marry a creature with unmatched stamina. Not having to wait for a second round made mating all the more thrilling. Grabbing her forcefully, she shoved her to her feet and bent her over the side of the couch. Her cock already rock-solid once more, she teased her entrance with just the tip.

“We’ll do this all fucking night if we have to. I’m going to fill you again and again and again until you’re so full of my cum that there’s no doubt you’ll be carrying my pups.”

Himeko’s eyes rolled back as she listened to the vulgar demands of her mate. She swayed her hips enticingly. “You better get to work then. Talk is cheap,” she taunted. The vampire knew her wife couldn’t resist a challenge. She wanted her fast and hard, and this was the surefire way to ensure she’d have something to prove.

Kafka’s hand came down on her ass forcefully, her elongated nails leaving a scratch on the tender skin there. “Don’t fucking toy with me, bloodsucker. Better brace yourself – this isn’t going to tickle.” In one steady stroke, she entered her again and Himeko arched her back.

“FUCK! Is that all you’ve got, doggy? Come on…do this right or don’t do it at all,” she tormented. Feeling her wife’s grip tighten against her hips, she cried out as Kafka slammed into her over and over, waves of pleasure clouding her ability to think.

“Oh yeah? Big talk for someone begging for me to breed her. When I think about you swollen with my pups it drives me fucking feral. Fucking say it. Say you want me to breed you, or I’ll pull out right fucking now,” she commanded.

“No! No…fuck! Breed me, Kafka! I want to carry your- ohhhhhhh, fuckkkk…” she whimpered as her knees nearly gave out from the power of her orgasm. The werewolf didn’t stop, pounding over and over until she spilled into her a final time.

The two barely made it back to sit on the couch before they collapsed into each other. Kafka stroked her wife’s hair lovingly in silent apology for her roughness. “All good? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Himeko giggled and kissed her chest. “Mmmm…I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow. But with that much effort, I’m sure we won’t be the only two here for very much longer.”

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

Five months later

Kafka yawned as she gently rubbed her wife’s growing belly. She felt the constant need to reassure herself this wasn’t just a beautiful dream. For once, reality was better than anything they could have hoped for.

“Not just one, but two?” she whispered in disbelief.

“That is what Natasha said, yes.”

“I mean, I’m not really that surprised. I always bring my A-game. It was only a matter of time before we heard some barking around here.”

“Dear, don’t be so smug. You do know they might not inherit all of your genes. Who knows? Maybe one will be thirstier for blood than milk,” she laughed.

The werewolf sighed with contentment. “They’ll be here before we know it. I’ve been thinking if they are both boys, we need to come up with something strong. What about Blade? Or Elio?”

“Not on your life. There is a possibility we’ll have one of each, you know. Besides for a boy, I was leaning toward Caelus.”

Kafka thought for a moment. “I suppose that’s strong enough. And for a girl,” she said before looking back up at the vampire, “I’ve always thought the name Stelle was beautiful.”

[deletarius-draws]

Alleviating Rubellyn Feywild Concerns

A follow up of the Aelvaren

Priallia’s Speech and Its Impact 

Priallia’s speech is given in a grand hall within Rubellyn, one the Aelvaren used to gather the residents of the Rubellyn Feywild. Encompassed by the natural beauty and flora of the Feywild. The hall is adorned with intricate carvings and glowing crystals mirroring the harmonious blend of nature and the arcane. 

Priallia’s words: “Dear Eladrin and Feywild kin, We, the Aelvaren, have accepted the sacred duty to protect Rubellyn, to honor the trust you have placed in us by letting us call this place our home. In utmost homage, of your core values and traditions, I wish to make it clear that the Aximand Axia project does not require your conscription as it does for the Aelvaren. However, should any of you feel a calling to join us in this endeavor, the project will gladly and openly accept your participation. For those who do not wish to enlist, you are free from ever doing so. This duty is one we have chosen to bear, a burden we Aelvaren, willingly shoulder. It is the least we can do in return for the sanctuary you have provided us. Together, let us ensure the safety and harmony of Rubellyn. You have the Aelvaren’s humblest and eternal gratitude.” 

With the basis, intent and requirements of the Aximand Axia project cleared and considerate approach by Priallia, the Eladrin and Feywild beings resonate with the Aximand Axia project continuing without further concerns. Most of their worries are replaced with gratitude, relief and most of all curiosity as where this will take them in the future. Relieved that the involvement in the Aximand Axia project is not mandatory, allowing them to preserve their congruency, traditions and core values. They greatly appreciate Priallia’s understanding of their foremost principles and heritage. 

The Eladrin elders, deeply rooted in their ways, express gratitude for Priallia and her approach. They emphasize the importance of preserving their cultural heritage and the natural balance of Rubellyn. Though, while some are still very cautious on the project itself, most of the Feywild become optimistic that the collaboration and alliance will be strengthened with the Aelvaren.  

Younger warriors of the Eladrin, eager to prove themselves are more open to the idea of volunteering. They see the project as an opportunity to enhance their abilities and best protect their home. Even those who choose not to enlist appreciate the freedom to make their own decision, further reinforcing their admiration for the Aelvaren.  

Other Feywild beings, including Dryads, Satyrs, and Pixies are supportive of the Aximand Axia Project. They are inquisitive about the potential benefits and keen to see how it will enhance the protection of Rubellyn. The speech itself fosters mutual consideration, further deepening the bonds between different Feywild beings, creating a united front against the coming potential threats. 

Conversations & Banter Amongst the Crowd 

Eladrin Elder: “Zenith Counselor Priallia’s words, with clarity and grace, show wisdom and esteem. She has reassured us that our traditions are honored” 

Young Eladrin Warrior: “Huh. I’ve always wanted to prove myself as a fighter and guardian. Perhaps this is my chance to make a difference and protect our home.” 

Pixie: “Wow’e’Zow! Imagine all the new stories we’ll share! New elevated friendly warriors and magical adventures – this is going to be exciting!” 

Conscription and Enlistment 

Illaikus begins the conscription and enlistment process for selected Aelvaren soldiers and the willing Eladrin volunteers. His approach is more rigorous yet respectful, ensuring the volunteers are fully aware of the trials and potential risks involved that await them. Aelvaren and Eladrin recruits train together, encouraging a sense of coalition and solidarity. Sharing techniques and learning from each other, boosting their collective strength. The Aelvaren’s acceptance of the responsibility to protect Rubellyn has strengthened the bond of the two groups. The Eladrin and other Feywild beings support the Aelvaren’s efforts creating a united front.

[dzthenerd490]

File: Gantz

SCP#: AMN

Code Name: The Alien Game Show

Object Class: Neutralized/Masvae

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AMN was destroyed and all SCP-AMN-Toy instances were taken by the Global Occult Coalition. As such no containment procedures will be made. 

Description: SCP-AMN was a strange spherical device that for whatever reason contained the still living body of an old man. His consciousness seemed to be used as a processor for the supercomputer within. SCP-AMN was located in Osaka, Japan and for some reason targets people who have died within a certain period of time, normally during its activation. Once this happens SCP-AMN destroys their body and remakes them now alive again but within a room where SCP-AMN is located. Why any of this is designed this way is unknown but what is known is the victims are now to be known as SCP-AMN-Contestants.

SCP-AMN-Contestants are people who have been resurrected to be assigned to missions given by SCP-AMN. SCP-AMN will be able to open up and give weapons to SCP-AMN-Contestants which are to be known as SCP-AMN-Toy instances. SCP-AMN-Toy instances are weapons and bio suits that mix earth technology and alien technology from various aliens that visit earth regularly. Who created these weapons and by extension SCP-AMN is unknown. After the contestants are armed, they are transported to a random part of Japan and given a mission to kill an alien. These aliens are either residents that have been approved for sanctuary on earth or are illegal earth residents that are already on the Global Occult Coalitions. 

Once the game starts neither the aliens or the SCP-AMN-Contestants will be detected by any living beings on earth. The contestants must kill the alien and earn points to win the game, otherwise the alien will kill them, often in a brutal way. The contestants must never stray too far from where they were teleported or else their brains will shut down. Only after the game is over will SCP-AMN bring the contestants back to the room and allow them to go free until the next game. If an SCP-AMN-Contestant is killed in the game, they will not be brought back after it is over. If they contestants fail to kill the alien within the time range given, they will be brought back to SCP-AMN consequence free. However once back SCP-AMN will anonymously provide information about the SCP-AMN-Contestants to the aliens. This allows them to hunt them down the contestants when they are no longer armed with SCP-AMN-Toy instances. 

It is possible for contestants to bring SCP-AMN-Toy’s with them when the game is over but if they use them too many times their brains will shut down as a penalty. No matter where they are, when a new game begins, they will be teleported back to SCP-AMN to start up a new game. The only way to leave SCP-AMN completely is to earn 100 points. Points are granted to every SCP-AMN-Contestant at the end of the game, the one who kills the targeted aliens is granted the most points. The SCP-AMN-Contestants are allowed to use Points to request more powerful and exclusive SCP-AMN-Toy instances but more often than not those who survive request to be released. Only those who find enjoyment and survive often request more advanced SCP-AMN-Toy instances. 

SCP-AMN was discovered in 2000 when a Global Occult Coalition agent was killed in Japan but got resurrected by SCP-AMN. After barely surviving a game, she reported the incident to the Japanese Division of the GOC. A report was made and passed to have SCP-AHY terminated immediately. Shockingly the old man within the sphere of SCP-AMN woke up upon the GOC entering the room and used the SCP-AMN-Toy instances to defend himself. He even killed the GOC agent and several other SCP-AMN-Contestants to get the GOC to stand down. They refused and killed him allowing them to finally dismantle SCP-AMN. The O5 Council like to use the incident as a reminder of how incompetent the Global Occult Coalition is but most Foundation staff agree they did the right thing. Still, it was the O5 Councils devision to have SCP-AMN given the rare dual object classification of Neutralized and Masvae

Though the GOC allowed the Foundation to view their research regarding SCP-AMN they kept complete custody of the technology within SCP-AMN as well as the SCP-AMN-Toy instances. Though to this day neither the Foundation or the GOC knows why SCP-AMN was created and by who. Though due to the massive death and destruction of both human and alien ally life it was agreed that if another SCP-AMN is to be created it must be destroyed immediately.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from the New York Times:

Every year, in the waters off the California coast, hundreds of tankers, car carriers and container vessels from dozens of shipping companies take part in an unusual race.

To win, ships have to go slow.

Awards are given to companies whose fleets voluntarily reduce speeds in marine areas where endangered whales migrate through and feed in. The prize, known as Protecting Blue Whales and Blue Skies, comes with a sculptural whale-tail trophy and bragging rights.

“It’s good for the environment, and we make sure the public knows about it,” said Sean Hastings, a resource protection coordinator at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and a founder of the award program, which was created by a coalition of national marine sanctuaries, air quality districts and other nonprofit groups. “That’s the motivation right there.”

The real winner may be ocean life.

Program administrators say that the 2023 season, had the most participants ever — 33 companies. Eighty one percent of the total distance their ships traveled through the reduction zones was at the recommended speed of 10 knots or less, and that reduced the risk of fatal ship strikes to whales during the year by 58 percent. Slower ships also generate less ocean noise and fewer greenhouse gases and other air pollution.

About 90 percent of all consumer goods are shipped by sea, and the volume of maritime cargo has exploded in recent years, causing vessels to increase in size and numbers. The resulting traffic, pollution and underwater din have proven disastrous for marine life. Along the West Coast, an estimated 80 endangered blue, fin and humpback whales are killed by ship strikes annually, as warming waters caused by climate change shift their food sources closer to shore, where they can collide with ships.

As part of an effort to protect the critically endangered North Atlantic right whale, there are speed limits along the East Coast, and in recent years NOAA has hit violators with stiff fines. But reducing ship speeds off the California coast remains voluntary, partly because its endangered whale populations number in the thousands, whereas researchers estimate that there are fewer than 360 North Atlantic right whales left.

Protecting Blue Whales and Blue Skies started as a trial in 2014 to encourage shipping companies using the Santa Barbara Channel to slow down. Seven shipping companies signed on, slowing their vessels from between 14 knots and 18 knots to 12 knots, or roughly 14 miles an hour. The companies were offered $2,500 for each slowed trip.