#anyway onto yapping with the design

[numerousracoons]

Have mistresses on the brain AGAIN so enjoy a Maria Kaina art dump and my pretentious explanatory tags

[shroomerr]

Finally, my design for Mysterion!! this boy gave me so much heartache in the process of making this but its ok its all worth it for him <3

I also couldn't choose between the version with hair or without hair, so here's the one without under the cut (+ my initial drafts for his design):

[gemini-queen42]

Batb: Other Than Human - Themes stuff (& why I Called It That)

That's right folks, the self-indulgent "throwing any concept I like at the wall and haphazardly mixing together what sticks" au rewrite Thing has Actual Themes! That kind of happened accidentally but they are so real for that so let's get into it.

The Main Narratives Themes Trio of the story now all also embody expanded themes about being an "Other", when being a person is not enough to be properly considered human- more specifically of a neurodivergent/queer girlhood type flavor.

Summary is that it's called "Other Than Human" because the prominent theming is about being considered something other than human due to not fitting the mold of the 'norm'.

[This is a long one so details & specific character stuff are under the cut<3]

Amalure has the greatest departure from her original counterparts thematic placing, so we'll start with her. Amalure retains Gaston's social standing, reputation, etc. But it's of course not quite the same- because she is a woman, and she is not revered for being the picture of ideal womanhood/femininity. Instead, she excels in masculinity, but remains firm that she is and always will be a woman. So, to justify the desire & awe people have for her, they dehumanize her: She doesn't need to follow the Rules because she is outside of them. Amalure is not a person: she is a symbol, a figure, an object. A legend, a folksong, a modern myth. Her skills are not skills they are blessings, inherent, a mundane magic or supernatural. Despite having grown up in Villeneuve for her entire life, she is considered exotic, and is practically, if not actually, fetishized. And through all of this, the status quo and social order gets to be retained without question, and she gets to exist as the exception that proves the rule, rather than the Undesirable that she'd be marked as otherwise.

Amalure is fine with this, because this dehumanization is her status quo: She doesn't really view herself as a person either, she is defined by her relationship to other people, by who she is to them. Amalure has never been a person to anybody: Growing up she was never just a girl, never just Amalure: She was a girl with a mans brain, an embodiment of her fathers greatest achievements, an embodiment of her mothers worst mistakes, she is her fathers daughter or her mothers daughter, but not her own. (and she never both, it is either or, mother or father, never both, never parents.)

Princess Eve/The Beast is the other end of this, of operating through her dehumanization. Upon being cursed, she adheres to what societies have oft wanted to happen to their Undesirables: Hide away and never be seen by the public again. It is entirely self-inflicted, as most of her suffering truly is. She operates not through others dehumanizing view of her, but her dehumanizing view of herself and its warping of how she believes others view her. Because, well, the servants still view her as a person. I mean, they're still human- under the new object forms. And the separation of humanity that is easy to slip into on matters of royalty is awfully minimal as well; they watched her grow up, and she grew up among them.

The girl's bratty, spoiled, temperamental, and is a ball of horrid consequences of the shallow views and ideals learned from surrounding nobility. But she's also the girl that fell asleep listening to Cogsworth explain the many technicalities to managing servants; because she was stubborn in asserting her authority as the mistress of the castle, and thus she Must have say over its goings ons. But the majordomo's voice can be awfully soothing when he's not high-strung on anxiety, and it's hard to pay attention when you don't understand what's being discussed, so its all going in one ear and out the other. And She's Lumiere's 'Evie', who was so amused when Lumiere would draw on a little mustache when dancing the male roles so the princess could learn some duo dances, or because she didn't look very "waiter-like" (because Eve wasn't entirely sure what a maître d' did, but it seemed to have something to do with waiters), and who got annoyed every time the dance teacher/maître d' would warn her not to hurt her body in her pursuits, because it seemed so silly, why would anyone do that? And she's the girl who dragged Mrs. Potts to have tea with her, because she made the best tea and as princess she would have only the best; and if you're going to have tea you may as well have a tea party, and you can't really have a party of one, but two isn't much of a party either so she's going to drag Babette away from her duties too, since the maid was so elegant and thus would be perfect.

Honestly, the girl probably would've turned out fine if she was raised by just the servants. But they weren't the only forces in her life: she's a princess, so she's got to host and interact with important people and learn how to Be noble which isn't something any of the servants can teach her. And it is under the pressures and eyes of nobility, is in mixing and learning their social rules, that learns the lessons that will lead to her curse: That to be considered human and treated as such, one must look human. And to be such as a woman meant to look beautiful, like the ideal. As a woman, to be worthy is to be beautiful and vice versa. And even if she does not, she must have some way to serve men. Otherwise, she is nothing. Eve met these requirements well, and where she did not yet her authority as princess covered. So when a beggar woman is at her doorstep, the princess turns her away: because she is old, ugly, so long past her 'prime'- there is no worth to her anymore. There is no point caring for her future.

Helene stands as both the middle ground and inverse to the other two. She is an Other by virtue of her mind, she is Objectifiable by virtue of her beauty. She sits on the precipice between Undesirable and Desired, seeming nearly apathetic to where she lands despite popular encouragement to embrace or smother aspects of herself. Helene is quite sure she's a person like anyone else, thank you, and is frankly frustrated and a bit weirded out that others seem to have a hard time getting the memo- she doesn't like or want to assume the worst, though, so maybe she just missed another confusing untold social rule or something. I mean, the local triplets really do seem to be advising in good faith- they really do think of her as one of them to an extent (for reasons Helene is yet to know); they just don't understand her.

When Amalure pursues her, there's an unspoken aspect to the deal of marriage she proposes: Helene will get a secured place on the in of the community, a secure standing the promises people no longer questioning or trying to encourage her to no longer be herself. But Helene just isn't interested in Amalure like that, and she also sees what the real trade-off of that security is; that uncomfortable dehumanization that is exactly what Helene doesn't want to deal with anymore. If Amalure is fine living with it than she is free to do as she pleases, but the huntress doesn't seem to understand what Helene could possibly have a problem with- and it's not like they can discuss it, because it's unspoken, and you're not supposed to speak the unspoken things, because they're unspoken for a reason- even if you don't know what that reason is. Helene knows that rule, at least.

When Helene meets the Beast, she regards her as she does any other. It's plain as day that the Beast has a humanity to her, whether she's really "human" or not- she thinks and she feels, and that's enough for Helene.

Because Helene grew up raised by a single dad who she got most of her brain workings from, and he is a man of compassion and science. Off he'd send his beloved daughter to go and question and figure out the world for herself, to experiment and learn and become whatever she desires. Off to bed he'd send her to tell her fairy tales and have their lessons of love and compassion and humanity understood as she drifted off to sleep. Helene was never Odd with her father, never Other, in fact they were so easily two of a kind. It was so jarring, hearing people imply Tyndare less than sane; his logic paths were so easy to follow- but apparently his voice gruffs enough that others have a hard time understanding what he's saying sometimes, so that's where things seem to get lost in translation she guesses. People became jarring in other ways as she grew up too, because suddenly there seemed to be lots of social things she was supposed to know or be but didn't and wasn't, and it became very apparent very quickly that she was an Other among her village.

Overall: Eve & Helene get to go through these themes through the main plot, and post curse-breaking is when Eve gets to properly deal with the internalized issues and whatnot. Like she's learned beauty doesn't matter when it comes to love, and shouldn't decide whether or not someone should be cared about, and Helene loves her despite her having been beastly and despite her being a failure of a woman- (because she no longer fits the feminine ideal after the curse is broken, and frankly she never will again.) But she's still a Failure Of A Woman and Helene deserves Better Than That! So there's still work to do.

Amalure remains static on this aspect of the narrative until after the battle at the castle, where she does survive! .. barely. and it's later, in an argument with her mother that same night, bleeding out on the kitchen floor, when she asserts that she's her daughter too, not just her fathers. she has always been her daughter, always will be, she is the daughter of both of them, because that's not something that just switches or turns on and off- and it's an entire rant that I will not recite here, but the important part is the assertion that she is, always has been, always will be, the daughter of both her parents at once- that's the first little step for her arc of recognizing her own individual personhood and whatnot.

[whimsicalscribblr]

Hey guys. Guess who caved and bought the Bass.EXE kotobukiya model kit.

Me.

IT'S OK I PROMISE IN AM IN A FINANCIALLY STABLE POSITION TO BE SPENDING MONEY My old man said he'd defend my honor (aka back me up on ny impulsive purchasing decision) as long as I put 20% of every paycheck I get into my savings account so I've been doing that. Pretty good financial advice if you have the luxury of getting to save good chunks of your paychecks. I'm very fortunate to be able to do so, and I'm trying my best to save as much money as I can... even if me buying this kit doesn't look like it LMAO. I am impulsive but I'm very conscious of that, and every purchase I make has a lot of deliberation involved in it (30 minutes minimum, usually, of internal debate), so when I do make big purchases like this, it's the result of days of thinking and extensive use of a calculator. So even though he is a bit pricey (and to be honest, I did NOT buy him from Kotobukiya's site itself, instead from a rather trusted distributor where I ended up paying less than I would have on the official site), I feel rather comfortable in my decision knowing that I calculated my spending and everything to be accomodating of the purchase and know where my finances stand for the next month or so. Let me be a showcase that you can spend impulsively... responsibly LMAO.

ANYWAY it is officially being shipped to me (YAY) and once I get it I'm actually going to live update yall on the building process like I originally said I was gonna do with nightmare zero. Maybe I can get up a recording to show the building in a timelapse? Idk. I know he's gonna take me some time to build tho because... my boy looks complicated as HELL. But hes cool soooooo WORTH IT!!

Ok yap session over I gotta go walk a dog BYE FOR NOW NETTO.EXE OUT-

i just found out that kotobukiya is releasing a Bass.EXE model kit LITERALLY NEXT MONTH HOW DID I NOT KNOW- he looks sooo good but on kotobukiya and US selling sites he is $96.99 and, while i do currently have a job and make money, i dont make THAT much money.... but he looks so coool..... fdgjdasfgha

eternally cursed to be sad i guess LOLLLL im not letting myself make any drastic financial decisions right now because it's late but man if i had more expendable cash god knows I'd be preordering his ass right this damn second. I'm having a bit too much fun with model kits right now and that dude has a poseable cloak. I need him but I also need to save money.

anyway IF ANY OF YALL WANT HIM NOWS THE TIME TO PREORDER HIM I GUESS. IT'S A KOTOBUKIYA MODEL JUST LOOK IT UP ONLINE HE WILL SHOW UP AND HE'S BEAUTIFUL since I can't get him one of you all has to. Bring that boy to life.

Anyway it's late so-

Netto.EXE signing off for the night!

[eggueggueo]

Shadowvanilla in Dungeons & Dragons...

Que me yapping under the notes

I would like to say, uve created a special kind of brainrot in my mind with this ask

Ive wanted to write a whole fic off this now with how much it inspired me gjcjch

For now though, have this! Im still drawing the outfit designs for them (smilks is done but pv is taking foreeeever) but i really wanted to do something silly in the meantime hehe

I thought for days how to approach this idea since the ask was pretty vauge and open to a lot of interpretation (/not complaining!!) And pulled inspiration from bg3 since thats one form of dnd im familiar with. Then i thought about the owlbears in the game and that itd be silly to draw something related to it (even though idk how to draw animals at all ☠️)

Now onto info for this au!!

For the setting, initially it takes place in ep7/8 ish (since atp 8 hasnt come out but its gonna be hella canon divergent anyways so shrugs) where pv and smilks have their final confrontation. Pv wins, but takes pity on smilks and spares him. Smilks in a fit of desperation and delirium, tries one more trick to beat pv, but it backfires terribly and both their magic (since they pull from the same soulgem) does some weird wombo combo effect reaction which alters time and space and! Poof they both get pulled into the rift/distortion

When they wake, all that they experienced (in their canon world) is like a strange dream. I wont say more since id like to elaborate and explore the idea more

And erm,,,it might change a bit since the ideas are still being worked on

But!!

Pure vanillas class is a cleric (shocker) and shadow milks class is a sorcerer

Its a running gag in my head that everytime shadow milk tells someone hes a sorcerer, they look him up and down and say, "your....a sorcerer?? You dont dress the part"

To which he will roll his eyes in annoyance and tell them, "their clothing is too boring to wear!"

[plasmajane06]

a miu miu lookbook

miu miu are one of my favorite designers so I decided to make a look book inspired by their real runway looks. I took inspiration from some of their more recent shows (fw23, ss22, & fw22). I've been combing through their 90s/early 2000s shows and have been really inspired by them as well so maybe I'll do another miu miu lb in the future ;)

Anyways, I've added photos of the actual runway looks alongside my recreations of them so hopefully it would be a helpful comparison for people who are unfamiliar with miu miu. Okay, enough yapping, onto the cc which is why you're really here...

hair: 1 (vega v1) 2 (sue v2)

glasses bags

look 01: dress heels

look 02: hoodie & micro shorts tights heels

look 03: turtleneck

look 04: sweater & skirt socks shoes (tsr)

look 05: scarf & shirt skirt leg warmers & ballet slippers earrings acc underwear

and as always, thank you to the lovely cc creators who made this lookbook possible ꨄ

@sentate @serenity-cc @caio-cc @rustys-cc @arethabee @aharris00britney @bbygyal123 @arltos @seoulsoul-sims

[wonderjanga]

batman keeps trying to put trackers on marvel's costume, but none of it actually comes off, and the parts he can put trackers on are all like, magical, so they break the trackers and he's so mad about it

Bruce has tried so many ways to track Marvel it’s honestly driven him mad.

First he tried looking for the man using CCTV cameras only to realize Fawcett doesn’t have any. Oh no, no no no, he got the grainy, haven’t been used since the 80s, security cameras. So he ends up combing through all of these cameras because of how old they are because he can’t use the software he normally uses to quickly find people. He also had to do this all on his own because Barbara was busy, and none of his other kids wanted to help him because they all like Cap. And then, when he finally finds the Captain…

Batman: *staring at the Batcomputer intently*

Marvel: *standing in an alleyway* “Shazam.”

Batman: *doesn’t understand what he said, because the audio is too crappy to decipher, but doesn’t have enough time to register that as the cameras immediately cut off*

Bruce nearly… What did Tim call it? Ah yes, crashed out. Bruce nearly ended up crashing out over this. But whatever, right? There’s always multiple solutions to a single problem.

So, he then tried a more simple solution: trackers. Small tiny little things no bigger than his pinky finger. He stuck one onto Marvel’s shoulders as the Captain was leaving for the day.

Batman: “Captain. I would like to say that you fought wonderfully today.” *puts hand on Marvel’s shoulder and places the tracker*

Marvel: “You think so? Thanks.” *sunny ahh smile*

Bruce in fact did not think so, but he needed an excuse to touch Marvel’s shoulder. Anyways, the tracker didn’t even last an hour before he got a notification that it was broken, or rather fried, by electricity. Honestly, that might as well have been Bruce’s fault. One of the man’s major powers is electricity for Christ’s sake. So after a bit, he went and upgraded the trackers to now be electrical resistant.

Marvel: *walking to the zetas*

Batman: “Captain, you own a tiger, yes?” *starts walking with him*

Marvel: “Ah, yes, why?”

Batman: “Robin’s been asking about getting a tiger.”

Marvel: “Oh really? You wanna know some tips or something?”

Batman: “If you’d be willing to share, I’d appreciate it.”

Marvel: “Oh, okay then!” *proceeds to yap about tigers the whole was to the zetas*

Batman: *sneakily tacks the electric resistant tracker on him*

Bruce learned a lot about tigers that day. He never seen the man so informative and passionate about a subject other than magic. If only he’d put that same passion into his reports. Seriously, who alternates between their left and right arm on a professional report? At least do it on a piece of scratch paper or something. (This is a reference to post I saw a while ago about Marvel and Billy writing reports together. Because of that, half of the report was in super duper fancy shmancy handwriting and the other was in chicken scratch)

But anyways, back to the second tracker. See, it actually did the opposite of what it was designed to do, which was track and be resistant to electricity. It actually ended up shorting out and therefore losing its ability to track. Bruce now realized he underestimated Marvel’s electricity.

Now onto Bruce’s third attempt. He had the tracker enchanted with magic.

Batman: “Marvel, I’d like to talk to you about Junior.”

Marvel: “Sure? Is he in trouble?” *sounds concerned*

Batman: “No. You see, Robin’s been wanting to have a play date with him.”

Marvel: “Oh uh… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” *sounds hesitant* “I’ll have to ask him about it:”

Batman: “That’s fine.” *pats his shoulder and plants the tracker* “Get back to me when you’ve both come to a decision.”

Funnily enough, Bruce didn’t even get ten feet away before he got a notification that the tracker was destroyed. Billy felt the magic in the tracker and honest to the gods he thought it was a bug and swatted his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Billy’s confused but happy that Batman has been talking to him so much recently.

Eventually, after much trial and error (47 attempts) Bruce finally got a tracker that worked. He watched on the GPS as Marvel dipped into an alleyway and… dipped off of the face of the earth? He stared at it for a solid minute wondering if he should be concerned. It’s not like Marvel knows he’s been trying to track him. He has no idea how upset the man would be so he waited. Five minutes passed of Bruce waiting for the little dot representing Marvel to reappear. He then couldn’t take it anymore and started spamming Cap’s comm and was about to notify the other JL members until he finally picked up.

Batman: “Captain? Captain, are you there?”

Marvel: “Yeah? Yeah I am Mister Batman Sir? Is something wrong?”

Batman: “The GPS on your comm showed that you disappeared off the map for fifteen minutes.”

Marvel: “Oh really? Well I’m sorry for worrying you, Mister Batman Sir. I just went to the Rock of Eternity. That’s probably why I didn’t appear.

Batman: “What is the Rock of Eternity?”

Marvel: “Oh, it’s this rock that’s the cent- OH SHOOT.” *loud crash comes from his end*

Batman: “Is everything alright?”

Marvel: “Yeah- look I’m sorry but Black Adam’s here and he just threw a building at me. See ya, Mister Batman Sir.”

So yeah. After everything he went through only to come up with no results, Bruce is mad. Rolling in his grave even. The worst part is that he doesn’t even technically have the right to be mad, considering the fact that he was going behind one of his colleagues back’s and trying to track them without their consent. Though to be fair, Bruce did it because you can’t just have somebody that powerful running around and unchecked without a recorded weakness. But what makes him even more mad is that just when he was about to get the slightest semblance of information, a villain ruined it. At least he has a name now. The Rock of Eternity. It’s probably a magic thing that he’ll end up asking Zatanna about. He hates magic.

[iraot]

Warnings: M/M intimacy, tooth rotting fluff?, rough sex, knotting, abo dynamics, p in v sex, p in a sex, oral sex, throuple, power dynamics?, play, hair mentioned i think, Pairing: Alpha Zayne x Omega F!reader x Alpha Caleb A/N: this is the last OFFICIAL part of my ABO series, at least until the sixth LI comes out. I am taking drabble requests for any of the relationships so feel free to shoot me a DM and I'll get to it as soon as I can! :3 If you also just wanna yap hit me up too! I'm a chronic yapper. A03

𝟙𝟝 𝕐𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕊 𝔸𝔾𝕆 The summer sun was beginning its lazy descent, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet as the three of them raced through the field behind Linkon University’s faculty housing, where their families worked. The rampantly growing wildflowers swayed in the evening breeze, the scent of earth and grass filling the air as laughter rang out between them.

Caleb was the fastest, always the first to dart ahead, feet barely touching the ground as he bolted through the field. His dark brown hair was a wild mess, violet eyes bright with excitement as he whooped and called over his shoulder, “Come on, slowpokes! Last one to the tree has to carry the backpacks home!”

She groaned dramatically but pushed forward, her legs burning as she tried to keep up. She wasn’t as wild as Caleb, but she had her own brand of playful competitiveness. “Not fair! You took off before we even started counting!”

Zayne, as always, was more calculated in his approach. He didn’t immediately rush in after Caleb but instead gauged the distance, the lay of the ground, the way his two best friends moved. With a quiet, knowing smirk, he adjusted his pace, waiting for the right moment to surge ahead. “You should know by now that Caleb doesn’t play fair,” he murmured as he passed her, his black hair catching the last of the sunlight.

She huffed, trying not to grin. “And you’re still letting him get away with it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Just as Caleb was about to reach the massive oak tree that marked their usual finish line, Zayne suddenly veered to the right, cutting through the tall grass. Caleb was too caught up in his own momentum to notice until the last second—when Zayne stretched out a hand and tagged the tree first.

“What—? You cheated!” Caleb gaped, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

Zayne simply leaned against the bark, arms crossed, utterly unbothered. “I played smart.”

She reached the tree a few seconds later, panting but laughing. “Guess that means Caleb’s carrying the backpacks.”

Caleb groaned, falling onto his back with an exaggerated sigh. “You two always gang up on me.”

“We wouldn’t have to if you weren’t always running off,” Zayne pointed out, nudging him with his foot.

She plopped down beside Caleb, staring up at the sky with a contented sigh. “One day, we’ll probably have to start acting our age. Be all proper and responsible.”

Caleb turned his head to look at her, grinning. “Not happening. I’ll make sure of it.”

Zayne shook his head, but there was fondness in his gaze as he sat beside them. “At the very least, I’ll make sure neither of you get into too much trouble.”

She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. “So, what’s the verdict? Backpacks?”

Caleb groaned again but grabbed one of the bags with a dramatic flourish. “Fine. But only because I’m gracious in defeat.”

She and Zayne exchanged an amused glance before gathering the rest of their things, the three of them falling into an easy rhythm as they made their way home. Even then, before their designations, before their world became infinitely more complicated, they had been something unshakable—three parts of a whole, bound together in a way none of them could fully put into words.

Not yet, anyway.

PRESENT The change in the air was subtle at first—just a shift, something quiet, creeping beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break. But then it thickened, coiled, twisted into something heavy and undeniable, something that seeped into the walls, the sheets, their skin. It was a slow, smoldering burn, creeping into their bones, filling every breath with something sharp, something deep.

Zayne felt it like a pulse beneath his skin, a slow ache spreading through his veins, settling low in his gut, curling tight around the heavy weight of his cock where it lay against his thigh. He exhaled through his nose, trying to stay steady, but even that was a fucking struggle. His body was already turning against him, heat building behind his eyes, muscles going taut, coiling in anticipation. He wasn’t in rut yet, not fully, but it was coming. He could feel it.

Caleb was worse off.

The other Alpha was already shifting where he sat, restless, his hands twitching before curling into fists against the edge of the mattress like he was trying to tether himself. But restraint wasn’t in Caleb’s nature. Never had been. His body knew what it wanted, and it wanted now. It was evident in the way he pressed up against Zayne, broad chest to chest, his scent thick with rut, flooding the space around them. His lips curled, sharp, wicked, as he rolled his hips down in a slow, deliberate grind, dragging against Zayne’s cock just to watch the way his throat bobbed with the effort of restraint.

“Fuck, you’re already holding back?” Caleb murmured, voice rough, teasing, layered with heat that he wasn’t even pretending to hide. His breath ghosted against Zayne’s jaw, lips so fucking close but not touching, not yet, just enough to make it worse.

Zayne let out a low, guttural sound, more growl than breath, his hand snapping up to grip the back of Caleb’s neck, fingers flexing against sweat-damp skin. “We don’t need to do this,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away.

Caleb huffed out a sharp breath, biting down on his lower lip, dragging it between his teeth before releasing it with a quiet, breathy laugh. He rocked his hips again, grinding down, the friction sending a sharp, burning heat through both of them. “That’s cute,” he rasped. “Like you’re not already fucking soaked in scent.”

Zayne clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched at the words, the way his body ached for more, craved it, demanded it. Caleb was right—he fucking reeked of rut, the deep, dark spice of it thick in the air, mixing with Caleb’s scent in a way that was fucking dizzying, overwhelming. It curled around them both, binding them together in the worst best way.

Caleb didn’t wait for an answer. He surged forward, closing the space between them, capturing Zayne’s mouth in a kiss that was all heat and teeth, hungry, restless. Zayne let him, let Caleb take, let him press him down against the mattress, let his hands slide down his back, gripping muscle, feeling the way Caleb trembled under his fingers.

The rut hadn’t hit full force yet, but fuck, it was close.

And this—this wasn’t going to be enough.

Zayne barely remembered how they got here, barely remembered shoving off their clothes, the frantic, desperate way their hands tore at fabric, the way Caleb’s nails dug into his shoulders, dragging down his back, leaving angry, red streaks in their wake. But now, Caleb was beneath him, panting, gasping, his face buried in the sheets as Zayne pressed into him, his cock stretching Caleb open, filling him, dragging against the tight, slick heat of him inch by inch.

Caleb shuddered beneath him, his breath catching on a moan, his hands fisting the sheets so tightly his knuckles went white. “Fuck,” he gasped, voice wrecked, body burning, back arching as he tried to push back, to take more, to take all of it.

Zayne gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into the sharp curve of Caleb’s hips, holding him still as he sank deeper, forcing himself to go slow, to drag it out. He wanted to wreck him, to pound him into the mattress until neither of them could fucking breathe, but he knew Caleb—knew the way he liked it, knew the way his body craved the stretch, the ache, the feeling of being taken apart, piece by fucking piece.

The sounds Caleb made—broken, breathless little noises, gasps and moans and desperate little whimpers—sent heat ripping through Zayne’s spine, curling low in his gut, tightening around his cock like a vice. “Fuck,” Zayne grunted, forehead dropping to the sweat-slick expanse of Caleb’s back, his breath coming in ragged, heavy pulls. “You’re—fucking squeezing me.”

Caleb let out a rough, choking sound, body trembling, shuddering around him. “Maybe—” he sucked in a sharp breath, shivering as Zayne pulled back, dragging his cock against the slick, swollen clutch of his body before pressing back in, slow, deep, almost mean. “Maybe I don’t—wanna let you go.”

Zayne groaned, his hips snapping forward, his restraint fraying, shattering. His thrusts picked up, deeper, harder, grinding into him, dragging him closer and closer to the edge. Caleb sobbed out a sound, arching, his hands clawing at the sheets, his body tightening, locking down around him.

It was too much.

Zayne growled, deep and primal, his knot swelling, locking them together, forcing him deep, keeping him buried inside. Caleb gasped, his whole body jerking, tensing, his muscles twitching under Zayne’s hands, his breath coming in sharp, uneven little moans.

Zayne let out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead to the back of Caleb’s neck, his lips dragging along sweat-damp skin. His hands smoothed down Caleb’s sides, feeling every tremor, every little aftershock still working through him. The scent of rut was still thick in the air, suffocating, clinging to the sheets, to their skin.

They stayed like that for a while, panting, twitching through the last tremors of it, their bodies spent, their muscles locked, shaking.

Zayne’s head snapped up.

The apartment wasn’t silent.

A noise.

Faint.

Something breathy. Unsteady.

Caleb stirred beneath him. “You hear that?”

Zayne’s gut twisted, instincts locking onto something new, something dangerous. His world had been narrowed to Caleb for hours, but now—now that the haze was ebbing, another scent was creeping in, something sweet, thick, suffocating.

Omega. Not just any Omega. Her.

Zayne was moving before he had even fully untied from Caleb, instincts screaming, body demanding action. Caleb cursed behind him, barely managing to catch himself as Zayne pulled free, the knot finally giving way. He groaned, rolling onto his back, but his expression shifted the second he inhaled deep.

“Shit,” Caleb muttered, already moving. “That’s—”

Neither of them wasted time. A quick rinse, scrubbing the worst of their rut from their skin, before shoving on loose clothes, still radiating Alpha heat as they stalked into the hallway.

The scent hit them full-force in the living room.

She was there, curled on the floor, trembling, fingers twitching against the oversized fabric of her hoodie. Her scent was thick, pouring off her in waves, her heat pressing against every inch of the apartment like a fucking siren’s call.

Fuck.

She wasn’t supposed to go into heat for another few weeks.

Caleb exhaled sharply, glancing at Zayne, his violet eyes still dark with leftover rut. “Well,” he muttered, voice tight. “That’s a fucking problem.”

She whimpered when Zayne lifted her, fingers clutching weakly at his hoodie, her heat scent clinging to his skin like a plea. Zayne clenched his jaw. Caleb’s lips pressed into a thin line.

The scent was overwhelming now, worse than before–worse now that she was in their arms–the slick-sweet haze of her heat wrapping around them, sinking into their lungs. She had just been in heat last month. There shouldn’t have been a reason for her to go into heat for several months, but with two Alphas coming into rut at the same time; well, the odds weren’t in her favor.

Zayne exhaled slowly through his nose, tightening his grip around her as he stepped into her room. The space was warm, the air thick with her scent, but what caught his attention was the bed—the carefully arranged pile of blankets, pillows, soft things she'd unconsciously gathered over the past few days. 

A nest. 

Her nest.

He hadn’t noticed. Neither of them had.

“Fuck,” Caleb muttered under his breath.

Zayne carefully knelt, setting her down at the center of the nest. She let out a breathy sound, rubbing her cheek against the soft fabric, her body instinctively curling into the space she had made for herself. But when he tried to pull back, her hand shot out, clumsy and shaking, grabbing at his wrist.

Her eyes cracked open—barely focused, pupils blown wide. “Don’t—” her voice was small, raw, “don’t leave.”

Zayne swallowed hard.

Caleb ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling sharply. “Shit.” He dropped to his knees beside the nest, watching as she tried to reach for them again, her body moving on instinct, seeking their warmth, their scent.

Because they did this.

She whined again, softer this time, her fingers flexing weakly as they curled into Zayne’s hoodie. Her scent pulsed in the air—sweet, thick, drowning them in it. It was impossible to ignore, seeping into their skin, into their bones.

Zayne forced himself to breathe slowly, carefully, even as every part of him wanted to sink into her scent, press closer, give her whatever she was begging for.

She didn’t understand what she was asking. Not yet.

Caleb let out a sharp breath beside him, rubbing the back of his neck like it might help clear his head. It wouldn’t. Not with her lying there, heat-flushed and trembling, pupils blown wide as she looked at them.

“Fuck,” Caleb muttered under his breath. He was staring at her like she was the only thing in the world. Then he dragged a hand down his face and sat back on his heels, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “We—shit, we did this to her.”

Zayne swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He knew. The second he smelled her, he knew. Their ruts had thrown her cycle off-balance, pulled her into heat too soon. Her body reacted to them.

Her heat was because of them.

Zayne’s jaw ticked as he reached down, smoothing his palm over the sweat-damp skin of her arm. “We didn’t mean to,” he said, voice low, rough. It felt like a weak excuse.

Caleb huffed out a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t change shit, does it?”

She whimpered softly, shifting in the nest, her thighs rubbing together, seeking friction that wouldn’t satisfy her. The motion sent another wave of scent through the air, and Zayne felt his stomach clench.

Fuck.

Caleb’s whole body went tense beside him. He dragged in a shaky breath, then shoved himself away, back hitting the wall. He tilted his head up, staring at the ceiling like that would help anything.

“This is bad,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Really, really fucking bad.”

She whimpered again, eyes fluttering open, hazy and unfocused. “Please,” she breathed, fingers twitching toward them.

The sound of her voice sent something deep and primal rolling through Zayne’s chest. His Omega. The thought shouldn’t be there, but it was. Her heat was crying for them, her instincts pulling her toward them. She wanted—needed—

Zayne gritted his teeth. No. She didn’t need them like that. Not when she was like this.

He exhaled through his nose, sharp and controlled. Focus.

She shifted again, her body aching for warmth, for touch. “Too hot,” she mumbled, voice thin. She tugged weakly at her hoodie, but her fingers were uncoordinated, trembling. Her heat was draining her strength fast. Too fast.

Zayne moved before thinking, reaching out to help. But the second his fingers brushed the fabric, she made a sound. A breathy, helpless little whimper.

His vision went red for half a second.

Caleb swore.

“Zayne,” he warned.

Zayne’s breathing was too slow, too careful. His muscles coiled under his skin, his entire body wired tight with restraint. He could feel her heat in his palm, radiating through the hoodie, sinking into him. So soft. So warm. So—

He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned.

Caleb exhaled hard. He was watching, eyes dark, knowing. “That close?” he murmured.

Zayne clenched his jaw. “Shut the fuck up.”

Caleb didn’t push, which meant he wasn’t any better.

The room was silent except for her soft, needy breaths. Zayne could feel the way she was still reaching for them, the way her body was practically singing for them to come closer. His instincts screamed at him to do exactly that.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done—not touching her.

Caleb let his head drop back against the wall again, breathing in slow, measured drags. “We can’t leave her alone like this.”

Zayne exhaled sharply. “I know.”

“She’s not gonna last long like this, man.” Caleb’s voice was quieter now, but just as strained. “She’s already burning up.”

Zayne looked at her. Her skin was flushed, her lips slightly parted as she panted through the heat pulsing through her body. She needed them. But not like this.

Not like this.

His stomach twisted.

Caleb ran a hand down his face. “I hate this.”

Zayne did too. Every instinct in him wanted to take care of her, to fix this, but fixing it meant crossing a line neither of them were willing to cross.

Instead, he reached for the blankets in her nest, pulling them up around her, tucking them in close, careful not to let his fingers brush her skin again.

She sighed at the warmth, curling deeper into the soft fabric, murmuring something under her breath that neither of them could make out.

Caleb let out a slow breath. “So, what the fuck do we do?”

Zayne stared down at her for a long moment, watching the way her fingers curled weakly around the edge of the blanket, the way her lashes fluttered as she fought against the haze.

“Stay,” he said simply.

Caleb’s brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t argue.

Because as wrong as this situation was, leaving her like this would be worse.

So they stayed.

They stayed.

Time crawled.

Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours.

They stayed.

At first, they’d kept their distance—one on either side of her nest, unmoving, watching her carefully, speaking only when necessary. They kept their hands to themselves. They kept their instincts leashed.

It wasn’t enough.

She was getting worse.

Her breaths were coming too fast now, shallow and desperate. Sweat slicked her skin, dampened her clothes, leaving her overheated, burning alive. She twisted restlessly in her nest, whimpering in pain more than need now. Her body was fighting itself, spiraling deeper into heat at a rate neither of them had ever seen before.

Zayne felt his stomach clench.

“Fuck,” Caleb whispered hoarsely, scrubbing a hand down his face. “This—this isn’t normal, man.”

Zayne’s jaw ticked. “I know.”

They both knew.

This wasn’t like last time. Last time, she’d had a warning. Time to prepare, to take suppressants if she wanted, to lock herself away and ride it out at her pace. This? This was something else.

Her body hadn’t been ready for heat. It had been thrown into it, dragged under like a drowning animal, and it was killing her.

She let out a weak whimper, barely able to move now. Her eyes cracked open—dazed, unfocused.

She didn’t even recognize them anymore.

That was it. That was the line.

Zayne and Caleb locked eyes.

Neither of them spoke at first. They didn’t have to.

They both knew what the other was thinking.

Zayne swallowed, his throat dry. “She’s not gonna make it through this alone.”

Caleb’s face was tight, his whole body rigid. “I know.”

Another whimper from the nest—softer this time, weaker. Her fingers barely twitched where they were curled into the blanket, as if she were trying to reach for something she couldn’t even see anymore.

Zayne clenched his jaw.

Caleb exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for half a second before opening them again. “She’s gonna hate us for this.”

Zayne nodded, a sharp, decisive motion. “Probably.”

Caleb swallowed, his throat working. He hesitated, then exhaled. “I’d rather have her alive and pissed at me than—” His voice caught. He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

Zayne inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the thick, sweetened haze of her heat. His instincts roared, ready, waiting. But his mind was still steady, still clear.

“We do this right,” he said roughly. “Slow. Careful. No claiming.”

Caleb’s nostrils flared, but he nodded.

There was no more debate after that.

The first thing they did was slow her down.

She was panting now, her body trembling violently in her nest, her skin slick with sweat. The fever was burning through her too fast, too hard. She needed more than just their touch—she needed care.

Caleb was already moving, his fingers deft as he reached for the water bottle on her bedside table. He cracked the cap open, shifting closer to where she lay tangled in blankets, barely lucid.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough but softer now. He reached for her, cupping the back of her head gently, lifting her just enough to press the bottle to her lips. “Drink for me, yeah?”

She whimpered at the contact, her hands weakly grasping at the front of his shirt. She tried to press herself into him, into his heat, his scent, but he held her steady.

“Not yet,” Caleb murmured, his voice soothing. “C’mon, baby, need you to drink first.”

Her lips parted obediently when he tilted the bottle, and she took slow uneven sips, swallowing between shallow breaths.

Zayne watched, his body tight, his fingers twitching at his sides. He could smell her exhaustion, her frustration. She was running on nothing but need now, instincts taking over, seeking, reaching—pleading.

His gut twisted. She shouldn’t have to beg.

The second Caleb pulled the bottle away, her hands were moving again, small and clumsy, reaching out, seeking them.

Zayne exhaled slowly, leaning down, his palm finally finding the curve of her thigh. She shivered under his touch, a choked sound leaving her lips.

“Easy,” he murmured, fingers stroking slow, measured paths up the length of her thigh, easing her open. “We’ve got you.”

Her breath hitched.

Zayne’s palm dragged higher, so slow, so careful, skimming over damp heated skin. His fingers spread, grazing, teasing, preparing.

Her whole body reacted.

Caleb chuckled, rough and breathless. “That’s what you wanted, huh, sweetheart?”

She whimpered.

Zayne’s gaze flicked up, meeting Caleb’s over the curve of her body. They had her. She was theirs.

Caleb exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before shifting back down to her. He ran his knuckles along her flushed cheek, his mouth quirking into something almost fond.

“She’s desperate for it,” Caleb murmured.

Zayne hummed. “She’s gonna get it.”

And then he kissed her.

Soft. Slow. Lazy.

Not rushed, not greedy, not taking. Just giving.

Her whimper turned into a shuddering moan against his lips, her body arching into him, for him, melting beneath his hands as he prepared her, opening her up.

Caleb pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering, “We’ve got you, baby. We’ve got you.”

Zayne settled between her thighs, a wall of heat and muscle, pressing her down into the soft tangled mess of blankets beneath them. His body was solid, heavy, unyielding, the sheer size of him a reminder that she was completely at his mercy. She was so small beneath him, so soft, so pliant—her body trembling with exhaustion but still moving, still seeking, still aching for more. The fevered flush of her skin burned against his, sweat-slicked and desperate, her scent thick enough to drown him, coating his tongue, clinging to his lungs. It made his head swim, made his muscles coil tight with the effort of restraint, made his cock throb where it lay heavy between them.

Even now, wrecked and ruined, she was still trying to move, her hips rolling weakly, a slow, pitiful grind against the underside of his length. She was struggling, her body too far gone to manage anything more than pleading little movements, rubbing against him, seeking relief, lost to the hunger of her own heat. She didn’t have to fight for it. She didn’t have to beg.

Zayne had her.

His hands traced over her body, slow, steady, dragging heat in their wake as they mapped over every inch of flushed, fevered skin. He spread her open with easy, effortless strength, holding her still, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. His thumbs pressed into the soft dip of her hips, his fingers gripping the curve of her thighs, steadying her. She was so wet—pulsing, dripping, her slick coating his fingers, her body already preparing itself for him.

For him.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating through his ribs, sinking deep into the space between them.

She whimpered at the sound, an immediate, instinctive reaction, her body going tense before shuddering apart again, thighs twitching like she wanted to wrap them around his waist, to pull him closer, to lock him in. She was burning up, feverish, overwhelmed, but she still wanted to. Still needed.

Zayne exhaled sharply, dragging his cock through her soaked folds, coating himself in the mess of her slick, feeling the way her body quivered at the contact. The heat of her, the sheer wetness, the way she clenched around nothing—it nearly undid him. His muscles went rigid, his fingers flexing against her skin, restraint hanging by a thread, fraying with every shuddered breath.

“You’re burning up, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick, hoarse with the weight of his need. He let the tip of his cock nudge at her entrance, push, press, tease—just enough to make her gasp, just enough to make her squirm—but not enough to give her what she needed. Not yet.

“This what you needed?”

She made a choked, needy sound, her fingers twitching against his biceps, nails barely scratching at his skin, useless and weak but still trying.

Zayne chuckled, low and lazy, but there was something dark beneath it, something possessive, something just a little cruel.

“Gonna take care of you,” he murmured, soothing, promising. “Gonna give you exactly what you need.”

And then he pushed in.

Her gasp broke into a moan, her back arching, her body tightening around him, sucking him in, taking him.

Zayne’s jaw clenched, a growl catching in his throat as he forced himself to go slow, to keep himself steady. She was so fucking wet, her body made to take him, welcoming him, milking him—but she was tight, too tight, scorching around him, squeezing down like she wanted to keep him there forever. His fingers dug into the softness of her thighs, spreading her wider, holding her open, watching the way her face twisted, overwhelmed, undone, lost in the feeling of him.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice rough, gravel-thick. “Takin’ me so well, baby. Fuck.”

She whined, a high, broken sound, her legs finally locking around his waist, ankles hooking behind him, desperate to keep him close, to keep him inside.

As if he was ever going to leave.

Zayne exhaled harshly, pressing his forehead against hers, breathing her in, drowning in her scent. His hips rolled, deep, slow, dragging the full length of him inside her inch by inch, stretching her open, filling her until there was nowhere left to go, until he was buried to the hilt, locked in place by the clutch of her body.

She pulsed around him, clenching, gripping, desperate.

He groaned, his hands dragging up her waist, feeling the way she trembled beneath him, barely able to hold herself together.

“You needed this bad, huh?” he murmured against her ear, his lips brushing her overheated skin, his voice dripping with amusement, with affection.

She whimpered, nodding weakly, helpless.

Zayne’s lips curled.

He pulled back, the thick drag of his cock against her swollen walls making her gasp, before thrusting back in—slow, deep, perfect.

Her whole body shuddered.

From his place at the edge of the nest, Caleb let out a sharp breath, barely more than a muttered, “Shit.”

Zayne ignored him. His focus was on her. Only her.

His rhythm was unhurried, deliberate, every thrust measured, controlled, every roll of his hips drawing a fresh gasp from her throat, a fresh clench of her body around him. Her fingers clung to his back, weak and trembling, like she was afraid he’d pull away, like she was afraid she’d wake up and find herself alone, still aching, still empty.

“That’s it,” Zayne murmured, voice rough, full of praise. His hand slid up, cupping her jaw, tilting her face up, forcing her dazed, heat-fogged eyes to meet his. “Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

She moaned, nodding, lips parting like she wanted to answer, but only breathless sounds escaped.

He shushed her, thumb dragging slow over her cheek. “I know, baby. I know.”

His thrusts picked up, deeper, stronger, pushing her higher, pulling her apart.

Her body reacted instantly, her back bowing, her legs squeezing tighter, her cries turning sharper, higher, desperate.

Zayne gritted his teeth, feeling the way she clenched around him, taking him, milking him, her body pulling him in, demanding more. His knot was swelling, stretching, locking him in, binding them together.

She sobbed out a sound, her body tensing, shaking apart beneath him.

Zayne groaned, his lips finding her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Almost there, baby,” he murmured against her skin. “Gonna lock you down, keep you so full—”

She cried out, breaking.

Zayne felt it—the way she clenched, trembled, shattered around him, her body spasming with pleasure, dragging him down with her.

It tipped him over the edge, his knot swelling fully, locking them together, forcing him deeper.

He growled, deep and satisfied, pressing her down, keeping her still as he spilled inside her, filling her, marking her in the way her body demanded.

His forehead dropped to hers, his breath ragged.

She whimpered, soft, spent, perfect.

Zayne stroked her cheek, his fingers slow, soothing, grounding. “That’s my girl,” he murmured.

Caleb let out a rough exhale. “She’s still got hours left, man.”

Zayne lifted his head, meeting Caleb’s gaze over her trembling form.

His lips curled.

“Then we’d better take our time.”

The heat was still there, a slow, smoldering burn licking at the edges of her senses, no longer all-consuming but still refusing to fade completely. It coiled deep inside her belly, an ember rather than an inferno, waiting to be stoked back into flames with just the right touch. Her breath came in soft, uneven gasps, her body trembling with the aftershocks, the last echoes of pleasure still ghosting through her nerves. Everything felt raw, sensitive, too much and not enough all at once.

Zayne was still locked inside her, the thick swell of his knot keeping them bound together, his body a solid immovable weight pinning her to the nest. He was heavy in the best way, grounding her, the slow rise and fall of his chest pressing against hers, steady, strong. His warmth seeped into her skin, a contrast to the fever still simmering in her veins. His lips brushed lazily over her temple, the softest of touches, unhurried and absentminded, like he had all the time in the world.

And then there was Caleb.

He sat at the edge of the nest, legs crossed, forearms resting on his knees, one hand running through the mess of his dark hair, fingers gripping like he was trying to steady himself. His sharp violet eyes stayed locked on her, the intensity of his stare sending a different kind of shiver down her spine. He looked wrecked—tense, drawn too tight, like the last few hours had taken a toll on him as well. She didn’t doubt it.

“Hey,” Caleb murmured, voice low and rough, tinged with something unreadable. “You with us, sweetheart?”

She blinked, slow and dazed, the weight of their gazes anchoring her back into herself. She wasn’t floating anymore. She was here, present, body aching but mind clear enough now to think. She shifted slightly, testing, but the moment she tried to move, Zayne’s grip tightened on her waist, holding her still.

“Easy,” he muttered, voice thick with exhaustion, but there was something firm beneath it, something protective.

Her throat felt raw, dry, words catching before she could form them properly. She swallowed, tried again, her voice coming out hoarse and raspy, the edges frayed. “Did you two seriously wait until I was half-dead to do something?”

Caleb exhaled sharply, a sound between a groan and a laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Zayne huffed a quiet breath against her skin, his chest shaking slightly with a low chuckle. “Yeah, she’s back.”

She tried to glare at them, but it was useless. She was still too wrung out, every muscle in her body slack and boneless, wrecked beyond measure. Instead, she just huffed out a breath and shifted again, deliberately, grinding herself against the thick stretch of Zayne’s knot, feeling the deep residual throb still pulsing inside her.

Zayne grunted, fingers digging into her hip, his breath going sharp against her temple. “You keep moving like that, sweetheart, and we’re gonna have a real problem.”

A slow smirk curled across her lips, lazy and teasing. “Maybe I like causing problems.”

Caleb let out a strangled noise, something that sounded dangerously close to actual pain. “Can we not do this right now? Jesus.”

She turned her head slightly, blinking up at him, feigning innocence. “What, jealous?”

Caleb’s jaw clenched, his violet eyes flashing dark with something sharp, something hot. He rolled his eyes, but it was too late—she’d already seen it, already caught the way his fingers twitched where they rested against his knee, like he was fighting the instinct to reach for her.

Zayne chuckled, voice low and rough, full of amusement. “She’s still a menace. Good to know heat doesn’t change that.”

She huffed, shifting again just to test, just to push, just to see how far she could take it. The answering growl that rumbled through Zayne’s chest sent a shiver through her spine.

“You guys gonna help me or what?” she muttered, tilting her chin up defiantly.

Caleb inhaled sharply through his nose, visibly reining himself in before shaking his head. “Not until you drink more water and eat something.”

She groaned, loud and dramatic, throwing her head back against the pillows. “Oh my god, I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb muttered, already reaching for the bottle of water nearby. “You’re not dripping slick out of thin air, princess. You’re gonna dehydrate if we don’t take care of you.”

Zayne’s breath was warm against her ear, the smirk in his voice unmistakable. “See? Bossy little shit.”

Caleb made an annoyed sound before promptly throwing a vitamin packet at Zayne’s head.

Zayne caught it effortlessly with one hand, not even bothering to lift his head.

“Fuck both of you,” Caleb muttered under his breath before tearing open a protein bar, breaking off a piece, and holding it out toward her. “Eat, now.”

She groaned again but took the food, chewing slowly. The burn in her veins hadn’t faded, hadn’t cooled, but the food helped ground her, settled something deep in her gut, something instinctual.

Caleb watched her carefully, eyes tracking her every movement, every little twitch of exhaustion, his expression unreadable. He was always like that, always noticing everything, always seeing too much.

“You scared the shit out of us,” he muttered, quieter now.

Her chewing slowed.

Zayne’s fingers traced slow, absent patterns over her hip, soothing, steady. “Your body wasn’t ready for this heat,” he murmured. “We knew it wasn’t normal, but we didn’t know how bad it was gonna get.”

She swallowed, finally looking at them—really looking.

Caleb exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze darting away for the first time. “We weren’t gonna do anything, you know.” His voice was rough, strained. “Not without you actually saying you wanted it.”

Zayne hummed against her skin, the sound low, full of unspoken agreement. “But when you stopped recognizing us…” His grip on her hip tightened, just slightly, just enough for her to feel the way his fingers trembled. “We weren’t gonna let you suffer, sweetheart. We weren’t gonna let you—”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

She knew.

Her chest tightened, something hot and aching blooming behind her ribs, pressing up into her throat.

“You guys are so fucking stupid,” she muttered, her voice quieter now, lacking its usual bite.

Caleb arched a brow, lips pressing into a flat line. “Excuse me?”

She exhaled slowly, shifting just enough to bury her face into the curve of Zayne’s neck, breathing him in. His scent was warm and familiar, something deep in her body recognizing it, settling into it, soothed by it. “Of course I wanted you to help.”

Zayne went still.

Caleb blinked, his entire body tensing.

She sighed, nuzzling closer, her voice muffled against Zayne’s skin. “Like I wouldn’t have picked you two anyway.”

The silence stretched, thick, weighted, something unspoken settling between them.

Then Caleb let out a sharp, exhausted breath, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Zayne huffed a low laugh, his grip on her easing, shifting, turning into something warmer, something softer. “Should’ve said something sooner, sweetheart.”

She scoffed, lips brushing against the side of his throat. “Maybe I wanted to make you work for it.”

Caleb groaned, head tipping back. “You’re literally killing me.”

She grinned. “Not yet.”

Zayne let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, his lips ghosting over her ear. “Then let’s fix that.”

The nest was still thick with the scent of heat and rut, the air charged with something heavy, almost tangible. It clung to them, settled deep in their bones, in their lungs, in the spaces between their bodies. She could feel it, the way it wrapped around her like a second skin, the way it refused to fade even as the worst of the frenzy passed.

Zayne was still inside her, still thick and locked, his cock pulsing faintly with the aftershocks of his release. Every now and then, a slow, lazy throb worked through him, making her whimper softly, body tightening instinctively in response. He smirked against her hair, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to her temple.

“Still sensitive, sweetheart?” His voice was a low murmur, thick with satisfaction, with something else—something deeper.

She wanted to snap at him, to roll her eyes, but the truth was that she was still trembling, her body wrung out but still burning, still hungry, still aching. The heat wasn’t gone. The worst of the desperation had dulled, but her body still thrummed with need, still whispered more, more, more in the back of her mind.

Caleb watched them from where he sat at the edge of the nest, jaw tight, fingers flexing where they rested on his knee. His violet eyes were darker than usual, almost black in the dim light, and she could feel the weight of his stare, could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, sharp and obvious. There was a reason Alpha’s didn’t typically share burning ire for one another usually did it but she had a feeling that the relationship between them wasn’t typical.

It never had been.

She let her gaze drift over him, slow, assessing, deliberate. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. The way he was breathing a little too fast. The way his thighs tensed subtly, like he was holding himself back. The way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for her but wouldn’t let himself.

Her lips curled slightly, lazy and knowing.

“Caleb.” Her voice was hoarse, rough from all the moaning, the gasping, the crying out, but she still managed to make it sound teasing, sweet.

His jaw tightened. “What?”

She shifted against Zayne, feeling the stretch of his knot, the way it locked her open, kept her full. She sighed, rolling her hips just slightly, just enough to feel that dull, aching throb of overstimulation, the wet, slick mess between her thighs.

Caleb’s nostrils flared.

She licked her lips, slow. “Are you just gonna sit there and watch all night?”

Zayne made a low noise in his throat, amusement curling at the edges of it. “You’re such a menace.”

She hummed, tilting her head slightly, looking up at Caleb from beneath her lashes. “What’s wrong? Don’t want me anymore?”

His expression darkened, something sharp flashing across his face. “You know that’s not it.”

She did. She could see it. Could smell it, the way his rut was still simmering beneath the surface, the way his restraint was fraying, threadbare and weak.

Zayne chuckled against her skin, his fingers dragging over her waist, possessive, lazy. “You’re really trying to break him, huh?”

She smirked. “Maybe.”

Caleb exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, his shoulders rising and falling with something unsteady, barely contained. “Fuck.” His voice was rough, wrecked. He was losing.

Good.

She held out a hand, palm up, inviting. “Come here, Caleb.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles going white. He was still hesitating, still fighting against whatever last shred of self-control he had left.

Zayne huffed, amusement thick in his voice. “If you don’t take her up on that, man, I will.”

His breathing was ragged, uneven, his muscles tensed like he was still holding himself back, still fighting not to crush her under the weight of his need.His pupils were blown, his gaze hungry, his body trembling with restraint. 

“You sure?” His voice was a growl, low and dangerous.

Her breath hitched, her pulse jumping. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Something in him changed completely as his mouth crashed against hers, rough, claiming, all teeth and heat and hunger. With his hand cradling her jaw he pulled her closer and sighed into her mouth as she moaned into it, arching, pressing up against him, feeling the hard, unrelenting lines of his body, the way he fit against her like he was always meant to be there.

Zayne let out a deep, satisfied hum against the side of her neck, still lazily grinding his hips against her, still half-hard despite already being locked inside her. “About fucking time,” he muttered.

Caleb ignored him, his grip tightening on her waist, his body pressing against her side and holding her as close as he could. His rut was catching up to him fast, hitting him hard, sending a violent tremor through his muscles. His scent spiked, thick and sharp, making her head swim, making her mouth water.

She could feel him, the hard line of his cock pressing against her outer thigh, heavy and burning hot, so close to where she needed him but not close enough.

She whined softly, shifting, pressing up against him. “Caleb.”

He growled, low and guttural, his hands dragging down her arms, over her ribs, down to her waist, gripping, kneading, feeling. His fingers dug in, possessive, like he was trying to memorize the shape of her, the way she felt under his hands.

Zayne chuckled lazily against her neck, his own hips still shifting in slow, teasing movements, his knot keeping him locked inside her, keeping her stuffed full. "Losing your mind already, huh?" His voice was thick with amusement, with satisfaction.

Caleb growled, low and warning, but it only made Zayne laugh. Tired of waiting to have to pop his knot, but also tired of not having her in his arms. 

"Relax," Zayne murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "She can take it. Can't you, sweetheart?" His fingers ghosted over her stomach, slow and teasing, as if to emphasize how absolutely ruined she already was, how full she was stretched between them.

Zayne shifted against her first, the motion sending a dull, aching throb through her body as his knot pulsed inside her, still keeping her stretched around him, still locked in place. He exhaled a low, pleased sound against her neck, his fingers lazily tracing the curve of her waist, possessive and indulgent.

"Fucking perfect," he murmured, lips brushing over her sweat-dampened skin. "Completely wrecked between us, huh?"

She barely managed a sound in response, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, her body still trembling in the aftermath. Caleb was slumped over her on the other side, his breath coming in slow, and uneven pants, his face buried against the crook of her neck. His hands were still gripping her thighs, still digging into her skin like he wasn’t ready to let go, like the last of his rut was still clinging to him, refusing to let him pull away.

She was utterly trapped between them, pinned by the weight of their bodies, by the thick unyielding knot still keeping her locked, still filling her past the point of sanity.

And god, she loved it.

Zayne chuckled, the sound low and smug as he shifted again, pressing even closer, rubbing his nose along the curve of her jaw. “Still burning up, sweetheart?”

She exhaled shakily, her fingers twitching where they rested against his chest. “It’s not gone yet,” she admitted, her voice raw from moaning, from gasping, from crying out their names until her throat ached.

Caleb groaned against her skin, his hands tightening on her thighs, his breath shuddering. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Of course it’s not.”

Zayne only hummed in amusement, his hand slipping lower, dragging slow, teasing circles over the curve of her belly. “Well,” he mused, his tone deceptively thoughtful. “I suppose that means we’re not done, are we?”

Her breath caught, something molten twisting low in her belly, a new wave of heat licking at her nerves, sparking her body back to life. The thought of more—the thought of being taken again, of being used until there wasn’t a single ounce of heat left in her—made her thighs clench instinctively, made a quiet, needy whimper slip from her throat before she could stop it.

Caleb groaned again, his entire body going tense, the sharp flare of his scent spiking around them like a warning. “You can’t just—fuck, Zayne, don’t start that shit—”

Zayne only laughed, smug as ever, his fingers dipping lower, skating teasingly close to the mess between her thighs, to the place where he was still locked inside her, still keeping her stretched and full.

"Why not?" he murmured, his voice dark and knowing. "She wants it."

Caleb let out a low, warning growl, but he didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t stop the way his fingers flexed on her thighs, like he was already losing the battle with himself.

Zayne smirked, dragging his teeth over the shell of her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Tell him, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Tell him how much you want it. How much you need it.”

She shivered, her body already betraying her, already responding to his words, to the promise laced in his voice.

She swallowed, tilting her head just slightly, her lips barely brushing against Caleb’s ear as she whispered, breathless and sweet—

“Please.”

Zayne’s knot softened first, the pressure inside her easing just enough that she could feel the slow, messy slide of his cock as it withdrew, leaving her gaping, dripping, a wet, obscene heat clinging to every inch of her skin. The absence was unbearable, a sudden, aching emptiness that sent a shudder through her, her body clenching down instinctively, desperate to hold onto the fullness that was slipping away.

A needy whimper broke from her lips, unbidden, her thighs twitching, her breath catching on the loss.

Zayne groaned as he pulled back, his hands gripping her waist for a moment, steadying himself. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. “Look at you—still so fucking open for us.”

She couldn’t answer—could barely think—because even before she could process it, before she could do anything but tremble from the loss, Caleb was there. No hesitation. No restraint.

He shoved himself into the space Zayne left behind, filling her in the same instant she lost him, pushing his cock into her slick, and swollen heat with a force that made her cry out, her body arching, her fingers clawing at the sheets beneath her. His rut was still running hot, still burning through his veins, still demanding more, more, more—and he gave in to it completely, burying himself to the hilt, groaning low and wrecked at the feeling of her wrapped tight around him, soaking, stretched, trembling.

His hands gripped her hips hard, pulling her against him, dragging her body up to meet his brutal, claiming thrusts.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice ragged, his forehead pressing against her shoulder. “I can still feel him in you.”

She sobbed at the words, her entire body clenching around him, overstimulated, ruined, and yet—still aching for more. The heat hadn’t faded. It still whispered in the back of her mind, still begged for everything they had to give, still kept her body open, pliant, desperate.

Zayne chuckled somewhere beside her, his hands sliding over her stomach, possessive and slow. “That’s because she’s meant to be filled, Caleb.” His voice was dark, knowing, his fingers ghosting lower, dipping between her thighs where Caleb was already fucking into her, spreading her open all over again.

Caleb snarled, thrusting deeper, harder, chasing his own knot, his body tensing with the sheer force of his need. “I know,” he growled. “I know.”

Where Zayne was gentle and firm, Caleb was ruthless. His thrusts were deep, punishing, merciless. His grip on her hips was bruising, his fingers digging into sweat-slick flesh, holding her in place, making sure she didn’t slip away from him—not even an inch. Not that she could or that she wanted to.

She was wrecked between them, overstimulated, stretched raw, completely lost in the haze of her heat. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Her body clenched down on Caleb’s cock, demanding more, sobbing for more.

Caleb growled, the sound feral, half-crazed. “So fucking tight,” he bit out, his hips snapping against her, his cock dragging against every sensitive, swollen inch inside her. “Still so fucking wet.”

Zayne chuckled—low, dark, satisfied. He was still close, kneeling beside her, watching where Caleb slid in and out, filthy and slick. His fingers traced absent, possessive patterns over her stomach, teasing at the skin, pressing down just enough that she could feel every thick, throbbing inch of Caleb inside her.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” Zayne murmured against her ear, his voice all dark amusement, all wicked promise. “How deep he is? How perfect you take him?”

She whimpered, ruined, her nails digging into the sheets, her body trembling, helpless beneath them. Caleb’s breath hitched, his pace faltering for a second—just for a second—because he felt it too. Felt the way her body pulled him in, refused to let him go, milked him for every inch, every thrust.

He wasn’t going to last. Not with her like this. Not when she was soaked, stretched, dripping from both of them. His fingers slid down, gripping the backs of her thighs, spreading her wider. He pounded into her, relentless, deep, unyielding.

Zayne hummed, dragging his fingers down lower, brushing over where she and Caleb were joined, slick, messy, obscene. He groaned, shaking his head. “Fuck, Caleb—look at her. She’s taking you so well.”

Caleb swore, shaking, sweat dripping down his spine.

He was close. So fucking close.

His knot was swelling, throbbing, pulsing inside her.

Her broken moans, her slick heat, the way she gasped and whimpered and sobbed for it— it was pushing him over the edge, driving him insane, making it impossible to hold back.

Zayne’s voice was low, knowing. “She’s ready, Caleb.” His lips brushed over her temple, soothing, taunting, unshakable. “Go on. Knot her, I want to see it happen this time,” having been on the receiving end more than once. While it did feel good in its own way, he always wondered just how it looked. 

Caleb snapped, thrusts turned brutal, desperate, losing all rhythm. His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her wide, open, his. She sobbed his name, shaking, coming apart, her walls clenching, fluttering, sucking him in deeper, deeper, deeper and then his knot swelled completely, locking them together, sealing him inside her.

He roared, wrecked, trembling, spilling deep, filling her, marking her completely.

Zayne groaned beside them, his hands still dragging slow, teasing circles over her sweat-drenched skin. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice thick, rough with satisfaction. “That’s it. Take it.”

The room was quiet now, the only sound was the steady rhythm of her breathing, the occasional soft sigh as she shifted in her sleep, pressed between them, utterly relaxed. Caleb’s knot had softened, and after a long, slow, careful withdrawal, they’d cleaned her up as best they could. She’d barely stirred, only murmuring softly, nuzzling into Zayne’s chest as he tucked the blanket around her, fingers brushing absently over her spine.

They’d promised to make her shower later, but for now, she needed rest. Zayne leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his damp hair, exhaling slowly. His body was heavy, exhausted, but his mind was still racing.

Caleb was sitting at the edge of the bed, phone in one hand, ordering food while keeping one eye on her.

“She’s gonna be starving when she wakes up,” he muttered, swiping through the menu. “You know how she gets.”

Zayne huffed out a tired laugh. “Yeah. If she doesn’t eat exactly what she wants, she’s gonna be a menace.”

Caleb’s lips twitched. “So, extra dumplings.”

“Obviously.”

A few more taps, then Caleb put the phone down, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms behind his head. His body still thrummed with residual heat, but it had eased now, settled. For a while, neither of them spoke. Zayne let his eyes drift to her—curled up, completely wrecked, completely safe. Her scent was still thick, sweet, lingering in the air, mixing with theirs, claiming every inch of the bed.

Something in his chest tightened, Caleb must have noticed, because he exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair before finally saying, “So… what the fuck happens now?”

Zayne’s fingers stilled against the sheets. He knew this conversation was coming. Had been waiting for it.

Still, he kept his voice even. “With her?”

Caleb’s jaw tensed. He glanced at her, then at Zayne, then looked away. “With all of us.”

Zayne breathed in deep, then let it out slowly.

They’d been here before. Not exactly here, not tangled up in heat and sweat and exhaustion, but close enough. Close enough that the weight of it pressed against his ribs, something unspoken and old and complicated.

Alpha-on-alpha relationships weren’t easy. They were incredibly misunderstood, people assumed it was all about dominance, about fights and aggression, about who was stronger, who was more in control, that had never been what it was like with them.

Zayne shifted, leaning forward slightly, his forearm resting on his knee. He met Caleb’s gaze head-on. “You tell me,” he said, quiet but steady. “What do you want to happen?”

Caleb’s throat bobbed. He looked away for a second, then back at Zayne, something raw and uncertain flickering behind his eyes.

“I don’t—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t fucking know, man. I just—”

His hand twitched at his side.

Zayne knew him too well to miss the tension in his shoulders, the hesitation that wasn’t really hesitation at all.

Zayne’s voice softened. “Yeah, you do.”

Caleb let out a frustrated sound, raking a hand through his already-ruined hair. “Fuck. Fine. Yeah, I do.” He exhaled, pressing his palms together, elbows on his knees, eyes flicking to her again before settling on Zayne. “I want—” He exhaled sharply. “This. I want this.”

Zayne watched him carefully.

Caleb’s throat worked as he swallowed, his jaw tight, tense, conflicted. “I want her,” he admitted, voice low but unwavering. “And I want you, and it's the only thing I’ve ever wanted for as long as I can remember.”

Something hot and sharp flashed through Zayne’s chest. He should have expected it. Had expected it. But hearing it—hearing it out loud—was different. It shouldn’t have been but it was.

Caleb scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know it’s not fucking normal,” he muttered. “People don’t get it. They don’t get us. They think we’re supposed to—what? Fight it out? Figure out who the ‘real Alpha’ is? Fuck that.”

Zayne’s lips quirked. “We both know you’d lose.”

Caleb let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Fuck you.”

Zayne huffed a laugh, but it faded quickly because beneath all the teasing, the truth still sat there, heavy between them. This wasn’t a new conversation but it was the first time they’d had it like this. Seriously. 

Caleb’s voice dropped, quieter now. More serious. “I don’t want to choose.”

Zayne exhaled slowly.

Caleb shook his head. “I won’t choose.”

Zayne’s chest ached. He understood that. He understood it so fucking well.

And fuck, maybe it was selfish, “I don’t want to, either,” Zayne admitted, the words barely above a murmur. Caleb’s shoulders sagged slightly, something like relief and exhaustion hitting at the same time.

Zayne glanced down at her again—the third piece of this equation, the one who changed everything. He let his fingers brush over her bare shoulder, a silent touch, grounding.

Caleb watched, then reached out, too. His fingers tangled with Zayne’s over her skin. A beat. A breath. A decision made in silence.

Caleb swallowed, his voice quieter now. Surer. “Then we figure it out. Together.”

Zayne nodded. “Yeah.”

No matter how hard it had been or how hard it was going to be or what people would think of them or how Alpha’s were supposed to act. He didn’t care, and neither did Zayne. Because when it came down to facts, they had always been stronger together.

The nest still smelled like her.

Sweet and slick, heat-heavy, soaking into the blankets, into their skin, their bones. But her scent had started to fade just enough that Zayne was aware of something else—something that had been there all along, lurking beneath the haze of instinct and need.

Caleb.

His scent was thicker now, sharper. Not as raw as before, but still simmering, still coiled tight in his muscles, in his breath.

Zayne could feel it.

Could feel him.

The weight of Caleb’s gaze, the restless way he shifted beside him, fingers flexing against the sheets.

They were both still wired, still burning under their skin.

And she was still asleep between them, her soft breaths even, her body completely spent.

Zayne exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, trying to settle the static under his skin.

Caleb moved before he could react.

A sharp press of lips, firm hands shoving him back.

Zayne barely had a chance to let out a low grunt before his back hit the blankets, Caleb’s body following, pinning, claiming.

Zayne’s lips parted—surprised, breathless, already sinking into it.

He shouldn’t have been surprised.

Not really.

Caleb’s mouth was hot, relentless, bruising, his hands already finding Zayne’s wrists, pinning them above his head, holding him still.

Zayne growled against his lips, pushing up, testing, challenging. Caleb just chuckled darkly, biting at his bottom lip.

“You’re still wound up,” he murmured, breathless, lips dragging along Zayne’s jaw.

Zayne exhaled sharply, fighting the instinct to roll them over, take control. “So are you.”

Caleb smirked against his throat. “Yeah. But I’m the one on top.”

And then he pushed down, grinding their bodies together, their cocks already hard, aching, slick with leftover heat.

Zayne let out a sharp breath through his nose, eyes dark, and hazy. Caleb’s weight was solid, grounding and overwhelming.

Zayne knew how this worked.

Knew that when Caleb wanted to take, he took.

And fuck, maybe Zayne wanted to be taken.

Caleb must have felt his body go still beneath him, because his smirk widened. “Yeah,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along Zayne’s throat, teeth grazing. “You’re gonna let me have you, aren’t you?”

Zayne exhaled, tilting his head back, baring his throat just enough to tell Caleb exactly what he already knew.

“Do it,” Zayne rasped.

Caleb didn’t hesitate.

He shoved Zayne’s legs apart, settling between them, spreading him wide. His grip was tight, unrelenting, keeping Zayne exactly where he wanted him.

And then he pushed inside.

A low, wrecked groan tore from Zayne’s throat, his head falling back against the blankets. Caleb was thick, heavy, deep, stretching him open.

Zayne’s fingers curled into fists, his body tense, taut, barely holding on.

Caleb laughed softly, rough with strain. “So fucking tight,” he muttered, voice thick with heat. “Still trying to fight it, huh?”

Zayne growled, his hips bucking up, trying to take more, trying to challenge.

Caleb let out a sharp, delighted breath—then grabbed Zayne’s wrists again, pinning them hard against the mattress.

“Oh, no,” Caleb murmured, his voice like gravel, smug and knowing. “You’re gonna take it, Zayne,”  then he fucked into him, deep, hard, brutal. Zayne gritted his teeth, his whole body jerking with the force of it.

He’d forgotten what it was like—how Caleb took, how he claimed, how he pressed Zayne into the mattress and didn’t let up. Zayne was burning, overwhelmed, gasping through clenched teeth.

Caleb just kept pounding into him, rolling his hips with sharp, perfect precision, one hand still locking Zayne’s wrists down while the other wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with every thrust.

Zayne’s breath stuttered. His hips bucked helplessly into Caleb’s grip, caught between the push and pull of pleasure, nowhere to go, completely trapped.

Caleb’s forehead pressed against his, breath uneven, voice nothing but gravel.

“Come on, baby,” Caleb muttered, filthy, rough. “Come with me.”

Zayne let out a low, broken sound, his body tightening, coiling, trembling. Caleb’s knot swelled, locking them together, keeping him deep. Zayne snarled, body jerking, pleasure ripping through him like a live wire, blinding, unbearable. Caleb groaned against his mouth, spilling deep, marking him completely. Zayne’s head fell back, gasping, spent, owned.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. A small shift. A rustling sound. Zayne’s head snapped to the side. She was awake. Propped up on one elbow, watching them, eyes dark, lips curled into something lazy and knowing. Zayne went still.

Caleb, panting against his throat, still knotted inside him, let out a slow, rough chuckle.

“Well,” Caleb muttered, voice wrecked. “Good morning, sweetheart.” She didn’t look away.

Zayne could feel her gaze on him—dark, knowing, heavy with something he couldn’t name. His lungs still heaved, his body still trembled, still pinned beneath Caleb’s weight, still locked around his knot, still marked, still claimed.

And she had seen all of it.

Heat crawled up his spine, not embarrassment, not quite, but something else—something raw, something vulnerable, something that felt too big to fit in his chest.

Caleb, the bastard, only let out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered against Zayne’s throat, voice still wrecked, thick with the last remnants of rut. “Didn’t think we’d have an audience.”

His breath was hot, teasing, his hands still pressing Zayne into the nest, his fingers still firm, still grounding. Zayne clenched his jaw. He felt vulnerable like this, opened up by Caleb’s cock and tied to him being bred in the only way he could be. She was still watching. Zayne turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze fully for the first time since realizing she was awake.

She wasn’t laughing. Wasn’t mocking. Her expression was lazy, slow, something unreadable sitting behind her half-lidded gaze. Her lips were curled just slightly, just enough, but it wasn’t amusement. She looked—comfortable.

Like this was natural. Like watching them was something she was allowed to do. Zayne swallowed, his throat dry, tight. His voice came out lower than intended, rough with something unsteady. “How long?”

She huffed a small breath, amused. “Long enough.” Zayne’s stomach twisted with something uncomfortable, he recognized it as fear though he was certain that Caleb felt the same way. For so long this had been real only for them. He hadn’t had to share this side of himself or Caleb with anyone.

Caleb’s fingers flexed against his wrists, and Zayne flicked his gaze back toward him, only to find those sharp violet eyes watching him closely. Caleb’s lips quirked. Something slow, something knowing. “You look like you just realized something important.”

Zayne exhaled sharply through his nose. Fucker.

Because yeah. He had. There was no fear in her gaze. No hesitation. No confusion. She knew exactly what she was looking at, what they were to each other, what they could be. She’d watched Caleb take him apart. Hadn’t looked away, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t run. And now she was here, still curled in their nest, still tangled up in their scents, still theirs.

Zayne swallowed hard. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, Caleb smirked.

She stretched slightly, slow, languid, satisfied then crawled towards them wanting to be closer to the heat of the nest which was undoubtedly these two. Then she tilted her head at him, something curious, teasing, just a little wicked.

“So,” she murmured, her voice still sleep-rough, still low, still drenched in heat and something thicker. “You gonna kiss me too, or what?”

Zayne forgot how to breathe as Caleb laughed. Low. Rough. Delighted.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Caleb murmured, still knotted deep inside Zayne, grinning like the devil himself. “You have no idea what you just started.”

Three days later, the apartment felt different.

The thick, suffocating weight of heat and rut was gone, finally lifted. The air no longer reeked of desperation, of raw need, of pheromones clinging to every surface. The sheets had been washed, the windows cracked open for fresh air, and for the first time in days, the three of them weren’t tangled together in a nest of blankets and sweat-slick bodies.

But something lingered.

Something heavier.

She sat at the kitchen table, fingers curled around a mug of tea, her posture loose but tense at the same time. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Zayne’s, if the scent was anything to go by—but her bare legs were draped over Caleb’s lap, her body angled toward him instinctively.

Zayne stood at the counter, silent, watching.

Caleb was the one to break it.

“So,” he said, fingers tapping against her thigh, slow, absent, thoughtful. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

She exhaled softly, rolling her mug between her palms. “Yeah,” she murmured. “We should.”

Zayne finally moved, stepping forward, leaning against the table, arms crossed. “Alright,” he said, voice even. “Let’s talk.”

A beat of silence.

Then Caleb huffed out a slow breath. “Look. We all know this isn’t… standard.”

She arched a brow at him. “No shit.”

Caleb’s lips twitched, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes.

“We’re Alphas,” he continued. “And you’re an Omega. That alone is rare enough these days. But two Alphas bonding an Omega?” He shook his head slightly. “It’s not unheard of, but it’s not exactly easy, either.”

Zayne exhaled through his nose. “Because Alphas aren’t supposed to share.”

Caleb made a displeased sound. “Yeah, well. That’s bullshit.”

She finally looked up, her eyes steady, sharp. “Do you think we can?”

Caleb turned to her, tilting his head slightly. “What?”

“Share,” she said simply.

Zayne’s stomach tightened.

She wasn’t asking in a teasing way, or a playful way. She was looking at them both, expression serious, assessing, waiting.

Because this wasn’t just about them wanting her.

This was about them choosing her. Choosing each other.

Caleb exhaled, rubbing his thumb along the curve of her knee. “Yeah,” he said, quiet but firm. “I think we can.”

Zayne didn’t hesitate. “I know we can.”

She searched their faces for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. Zayne could see it in the way her shoulders relaxed, the way the tension in her spine eased. Not because the conversation was over. But because it was starting.

She shifted slightly, turning more fully toward them. “If we do this,” she said carefully, “it means all three of us. Not just me and one of you. Not just when it’s convenient.”

Caleb nodded. “Of course.”

She met Zayne’s gaze. “And you?”

Zayne held her stare, steady, unwavering. “You’re mine,” he said simply. “But Caleb is, too.”

Caleb blinked, his jaw tightening slightly.

Zayne didn’t back down. “I’m not gonna pretend we’re like every other bond out there. We’re not. But that doesn’t mean we don’t work.” He tilted his head slightly, gaze sharp. “Unless you want something different.”

Caleb scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.” Zayne smirked slightly.

Caleb sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right, though. This isn’t gonna be normal.”

Her voice was softer now. ���Do you care?”

Caleb huffed out a quiet breath, shaking his head. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”

Zayne glanced at her. “Do you?”

She stared down into her mug for a long moment.

Then she sighed. “I think…” She exhaled. “I think the world doesn’t like things it doesn’t understand.”

Zayne watched her carefully.

She looked up, gaze flicking between them. “But I don’t care about the world,” she murmured. “I care about you.”

Something in Zayne’s chest tightened, burned, settled.

Caleb hummed, pleased, satisfied. “Good answer, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes, kicking his thigh lightly. “Shut up.”

Caleb chuckled, but then his expression shifted, turning serious again.

“Alright,” he said. “Then let’s talk logistics.”

Zayne lifted a brow. “Logistics?”

Caleb gestured vaguely. “Mating bonds. How we do it. When we do it. How we handle things after.”

She frowned slightly. “What do you mean, ‘handle things after’?”

Caleb met her gaze evenly. “We’re gonna bond you,” he said simply. “Both of us. That’s permanent.”

She nodded. “I know that.”

“Do you?” Caleb’s voice was quiet. “Because it means no backing out. It means our instincts will be locked onto you forever. It means if you get hurt, if you get sick, if something happens—we feel that. It means we’re all tied together for the rest of our fucking lives.” Zayne’s jaw tightened. Not because he disagreed but because it was true. She was silent. Then, slowly, she reached forward, wrapping her fingers around Caleb’s wrist.

“I know,” she said softly.

Caleb stilled. Her grip was firm, steady.

“I wouldn’t be here,” she murmured, “if I didn’t know.”

Caleb exhaled. Then he nodded. Once. Firm. Decisive. Zayne watched them both.

Then, quietly, he murmured, “Then it’s settled.”

[acrylcii]

(yap incoming 💥💥💥)

I don't think we as a fandom talk enough about how both Kim AND Harry both had dreams of working in fields related to the Pale as children and how that interest carried on through both their lives.

As stated, Kim wanted to become an aerostatic pilot before becoming an RCM officer. Aerostatics were specifically designed to traverse the Pale, and in game Kim wears an aerostatic pilot jacket, despite not being a pilot.

On the merch website, (which, would not recommend supporting, but I'm putting this in as a little tidbit anyways-) we can see the actual stats + description for Kim's jacket.

It's clear that Kim still holds onto this dream and admires the pilots and the revolutionary brigade. He's also a huge torque dork, so I think it's safe to assume he's carried the fascination with aerostatics and machinery well into his adulthood. (also, Airman Kitsuragi.... I'm going to burst into tears. I'm so serious)

Now, as for Harry, I don't have that much info on. HOWEVER,

So, entroponetics is the study of the Pale. At some point when Harry was a child, before becoming a gym teacher, Harry wanted to be a Pale scientist.

(also, writing poetry is a tactic used before traversing the Pale to keep a stable mind. AKA: Volta do Mar.)

And just like Kim, that interest carried on as an adult.

NOW. Okay stay with me. I've just been thinking of the possibility of Kim and Harry meeting, except Kim is an aerostatics pilot, and Harry is a entroponologist. I have no idea if this is an original idea or if this is even coherent but. There are so many worms in my brain

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

More Random Headcanons About The TWST Cast As Kids

Reminder that I write these as if y'all have read my other HCs LMAO /lh if something seems off, it's probably because it has to do with my headcanons overlapping- I've linked a few for context if anyone would like them ^^. No TW, and please no chapter 7 spoilers ^^

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Heartslaybul

Riddle used to really badly want a key collection. Something something about hearing that every door is leading to an opportunity you can unlock if you work for it. Took it too literal as a little kid. Still thinks antique keys are cool as fuck

Trey used to have a fascination with ants because his mom was able to smell them, and of course, growing up in a bakery they would have been a bit of a concern. So sometimes he would just go and sit and watch an ant hill for hours, claiming that he was making sure none were getting in the shop but uh he was really just watching them

Despite his own accent, and the one his mum made him use, Cater would pick up other people's accent like a sponge when he was little; thankfully little kids thought it was cool, not that he was trying to offend them (haha also a psychological survival trait to try and blend in as quickly as possible in a new environment and since we know he moved around a lot---) (lol I actually forgot to make a post about this I've only yapped about it on DC)

Deuce used to love blowing and getting raspberries when he was little because he could feel them rather than hear them

When Ace was Little Little he stuck a toy cat up his nose, followed by a firetruck, followed by a fireman. Yes it took a hospital visit. Yes this is based on a clip I saw from house m.d Yes it was his brother who took him, shut up

Savannaclaw

Leona desensitized his hands when he was younger because his coping mechanism for frustration was physical training. He wanted to be the best general the royal army ever had and if he could feel no pain in his hands like his great great grandpa he would achieve that goal, at least in his mind. (He would fist fight trees basically, after he was done his basic training with the current general)

Ruggie didn't speak to anyone except his grandma until he was about 5/6 years old; mostly because he had been taught that listening is less likely to get you in the bad sort of trouble than talking would, especially in the neighbourhood he grew up in

Jack used to sleep on his dad's tail, to the point he COULDN'T fall asleep unless he was hugging his dad's tail. Luckily his dad doesn't get excited too easily but this lasted until he was about 7 years old

Octavinelle

Azul loved getting ready with his mum in the morning, and before she had to go to work. He would often come to her with like a strand of seaweed or clams or coral so she could give him a cute hairstyle. He wouldn't be caught dead wearing them to school unfortunately, but he loved those moments with his mom.

Floyd used to collect shark teeth off the sea floor, at least. for a short time. After The Incident he decided to collect sand dollars instead to slide under Jade's 'door' while he was recovering

Jade first liked mushrooms because he thought the tops of them looked a little bit like sand dollars :) but also once he recovered he started collecting shark teeth from the sea floor and made a knife out of one as a silent thank you to Floyd - not because he thought he needed it, but just because it looked cool

Scarabia

Kalim used to have a horrible skin picking and nail biting habit; not out of anxiety but pure boredom from living under highly protected circumstances for a little while (also iykyk what this lead to)

Jamil had a mild allergy to mango, but still ate it anyways because he thought the tingly feeling was normal for mango.

Pomefiore

Vil used to make his barbies their own outfits; he would request fabric scraps from his designers to do so so they could match, and often brought a matching barbie with him onto sets and talk shows

Rook had bangs so long they covered his eyes; without having anyone reliable to ask for help, he used to use mud to slick it back out of his face

Epel 'refused' to lose any of his teeth in any other way than by biting an apple. Tooth fell out at school? He kept it a secret until lunch and put the tooth In His Apple. Tooth fell out at home? He would deny it, run to the orchard and grab an apple just to stick his tooth in it. Even now he says he lost all his teeth by biting an apple OTL

Ignihyde

Idia (as an only child) used to make 'potions' out of his moms bathroom supplies BUT they were always organized by use. So skincare products would get mixed together, hair products would get mixed together, dental products would get mixed together because in his mind, when his parents put everything together, it made the product better than it did originally

Ortho used to hide in vents OTL he would unscrew vents (which he did so by stealing his moms multitool on her belt) crawl inside and hold the vent cover in place until he could pop out and scare someone (usually his dad)

Diasomnia

Malleus was really bad at singing, I mean just awful. Like birds are dropping from the sky, magic mirrors want to shatter themselves and Lilia would even make him stop by offering him ice cream :skull: he did get voice lessons, but he was very huffy about them because he 'didnt need to get better if he was already the best'

Lilia as a teen would make dolls for fae orphans, but never told anybody about it out of embarrassment

Silver would often fall asleep with an animal he somehow managed to smuggle into the cabin from outside. If Lilia ever tried to take it, (even for the benefit of the animal), Silver would pull the biggest saddest puppy dog eyes you ever did see and Lilia had no military training for that OTL

Sebek used to eat his food by twisting his head and shaking his arms in opposite directions to tear it apart because of Croco instincts (can't deathroll, can try though).

Faculty

Crowley once got his entire fist stuck in his mouth

All of the cats Trein had growing up were named after famous religious figures that he grew up with

Crewel used to restore cars a lot, before he picked up his more glam style. His first car was a 1972 Chevy Nova that he managed to buy and soupe up after working two summer jobs since he was 14.

Vargas had a highschool sweetheart that he never got the chance to confess to. He still has the love letter in a shoebox somewhere. (hopeless romantic Vargas is so canon to me guys you don't understand)

Sam has never lost a card game since he was 9. His dad used to show him allllll the ways to cheat and fudge the deck in his favour, but also developed his skill. As of right now he's also banned from the local casino

Others

Che'nya was legally missing for 48 hours as a child because he went invisible, and decided the back of an unmarked van and a bunch of weird dudes acting strangely was paw-fect for an adventure. He ended up making them think their house was haunted before finding his way back home completely unharmed. The police and his parents didn't notice he was home until he asked for help opening a yogurt tube OTL

Jack Hearts had an obsession with learning how to fly, and accidentally incited panic in his parents several times after thinking a pile of leaves would be enough to cushion his jump from the second story of their house.

Falena had a really bad phase of making a popping noise as a stim. It had started off as a joke to mildly annoy Leona but he ended up annoying himself too

Cheka likes wearing his moms heels because he feels really small and thinks he should be taller

Najma had a HUGE sweet tooth. Sometimes, if Jamil could manage it, he would slip desserts from Kalim's testing tray (after he had tested them) to her and promise to learn to make them if she really enjoyed them. Also, unlike her brother, Najma has always been a disaster in the kitchen

Marja used to tap all sorts of trees to make syrups out of them. During the off season for apples, she would make lollipops out of them to sell door to door to neighbours. She was trying to save up for a dog (a border collie specifically)

Mama Shroud used to go scuba diving regularly (she's sooo Aussie in my head) and wanted to become a marine biologist before she really discovered engineering; which only happened when she had to think on the fly for one of her friends air tanks malfunctioning.

Papa Shroud loved to annoy his big sister LMAO he loved fake crying to get her in trouble and make her play with him

Ms. Hades (who I HC as Papa Shroud's sister) used to love doing her makeup, and would sometimes wrangle her younger brother into being her guinea pig for new styles

Maleanor used to flirt by asking other noble boys if they wanted to butt heads like rams with her OTL for some reason they all said no…

Baul was in cello lessons when he was little. He hated them. His mother commissioned a piece to have his disgruntled face and little outfit immortalized forever

Rollo used to buy little oils/perfumes so he and his brother could have the same smell on their respective handkerchiefs. His brother's favourite was sandalwood.

OCS

Vizzie loved pomegranates because she thought they made her look like a vampire when she ate them

Xenos used to throw fish at people from under the water when he was bored

Aspen would go up to random people to show them how he was double jointed in the wrists OTL

Danya's comfort item was his late father's ushanka

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

If you want to read more about how I hc their families, I have two headcanon posts here and here and specifically about their guardians here

If you want some more Kid Silliness, I've got hcs here and here ANNND here

If you want to check out something else, I've got my masterlist here

And if you made it all the way here, thank you for reading!!

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

Tag List (lmk if you'd like to be added/removed): @theleechyskrunkly @sunsmilu @tixdixl @nemisisnemi @starry-night-rose @thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @galacticstationsblog @my-cursed-brain @fluffle-writes

[hummingbird-games]

2024 in Review (Indie Games)

2023 | 2022 | 2021

Helloooo gamer friends!!!

I'm so tired.

Lol.

Anyhoo, y'all don't care about that!!! Y'all are here to see what games I played and what the heck I have to say about them! Reminders: I don't bash games I didn't like, and I try to post more in-depth thoughts and reviews and general yapping to Gem's Game Gems.

DEMOS

When Stars Collide - I am by no means a sci-fi girlie. I need a HEAPING dose of fantasy or fantasy elements to help me out. That said, y'all might remember how I went feral for Gilded Shadows, so I am locked in for this journey with WSC. It's just as mysterious and lore intense as GS, but also just as intriguing and engaging!

Love Me, Love Me Not - I looooove when a game charms me to pieces??? Our MC Addie, the introduced LIs, the story, the art??? Where do I begin?? Anyway, please check this one out y'all! I'm impatient for the full game (shocker, I know).

Threads of You: Beyond the Bay - So my thoughts and reactions for this one are on the side blog, but I really enjoyed the demo and I have eyes for Chris, Vince, and Alex hehehe.

Lost in Limbo - While I'd been keeping tabs on this game for what seems forever because of the character art that originally caught my attention, I almost didn't finish the demo because it was lowkey disturbing (I'm a wimp and not all horror is made equal). But!!! BUT!!!! I push through to the end, had a good time, noted that I need to play the full game in the daylight with the music turned down low. And I absolutely adore Ara and Xal so, so much.

A Simple Twist of Fae - Absolutely no one cares, but I read a lot of manga this year. Like, a lot-a lot. Like, ~180 books and 1/3 of that was manga. Anyhoo, When JMB announced she was cooking up this game, I was impatient to get my grubby hands on it. AND THEN I PLAYED IT AND IT WAS THE SHOJO INSPIRED GAME OF MY DREAMS?!?! Like.....I wish I could both have it on my computer and also on my bookshelf. Final build dropping when??? (Also the UI design is utterly delightful, I cry.)

The Summit Library (FULL DEMO) - The last time I reviewed this game, we got chapter 1 as a taste, and I was. Locked! In!! The full demo gives us the first 2 chapters as well as the previews for all the romance routes and while giving everyone a whirl I'm *still* undecided on who to go for in the future, I must mention this: TSL is so aspec friendly???? I do love a game with smut, don't get me wrong looks at College Craze but sometimes I have my moments of being overwhelmed/sliiiiiiightly repulsed and the variety of options you have to choose how you react and interact with the various LIs in this game is amazing. (I have more thoughts on this, so I'll try to remember to post to the sideblog, but please understand that this game is totally worth your attention and time imo!!!)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

Rabbit Trail - This. Game. Is. SO. Cute. *punches the air* 😭🥹(Copy + paste of my review on the itch.io page -> This was so charming, so fluffy, so cozy, just delightful all around??? I've only reached one ending so far, but René is just the cutest protag to play as, and his interactions as he delivers his mail made me cheese so dang hard! (Also, I wanted to fight his parents for not properly appreciating their kid LOL))

Stuck by Design - I checked this game out because I was looking into games that fellow programmers had worked on, and this cozy game stumbled onto my lap. The music was perfect, the UI is beautiful and clean, and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance of the VA for the LI, Yuki.

Wake Me Up If You Need Me - I called this game older!HSDJY MC x Ryan coded and I'm still right. The voice actor MAKES this game, and the interactions the player has with Reed is so flippin' delightful?? All my love and adoration to the game developer. May they make more beautiful games.

CTRL FREAK - The developer team brought us The Faithfulness of the Universe which is a banger in its own right, and CTRL FREAK is the team's commercial, finished project that I also found delightful. The soundtrack and the animations are chef's kiss 💛

Breathless Winds - Ooo, baby, ooo. So. If there is only one game you play from this list and you have some spare cash to spend (at the time of writing, the game is on sale!!!) please, please, check this one out. It left me absolutely spellbound, both the orginal demo, and then the full game. While I didn't get to blog fully about this one, and I only tackled 2 of the 4 routes, this game is absolutely everything. This is my indie game of the year. Poppy and her journey resonated with me, and between the music and the art, everything just came together so perfectly.

Wake Up Magical Girl - Listen TF up, if miseri creates it, I'm gonna play it, idc, idc. That being said...this game had a kick to it that when I finished my first playthrough, I had to stare off into space and gather myself. It takes the concept of magical girls and heroism and gave me a teeny tiny existential crisis, but other than that, I'm fine, it's fine, play this game, thank you.

Sleeping Under Spells - God, I love me a game where I get to argue with a LI. I love it. Bonus points if it's lowkey stupid stuff we're bickering over LOL!!

Our Wonderland - Yeah, uh huh, you thought you'd escape me talking about this game this year, didn't yah???? Too bad. The fifth and final arc dropped this year and I played it and I cried and felt for the briefest moments that life was okay. To say something different than my review of last year, I love that this seems to be the game that helps fellow ace devs find and flock to each other, I'm not kidding 🤣 so thank you Carrot for helping us fellow aspec peeps feel seen and validated and understood!

I Watched a Full Game Playthrough and Highly Recommend

Replay Boys - Okay so technically at the time of posting, there's still one more video I'm waiting to watch (Naja of BlerdyOtome uploaded her stream to YouTube) but my Godddddd. I've had my eye on this game for FOREVER but I was lowkey waiting for it to move to itch.io (I'm still a lowkey Steam hater 🥹) anyhoo, watching this absolutely wild game made me go ahead and buy a copy for myself to replay at a later time, but it's just great. The summary only scratches this surface of what the game entails 🤣

Gemi’s Gushies

(a list within a list of games that have devs trucking along in the background and I want to spotlight for y’all)

Save the Villainess - Life got away with me and unfortunately I never finished my play of the demo BUT what I have played was fun and I hope to return to this in the new year!

Woman of Xal 2 - Plot Twist Studios is on that Sequel Train with the next installment of WoX!!! Which I'm VERY excited for!!! I've unfortunately only completed one playthrough of this game, but the first game is definitely a masterclass in replayability, and I hope next year I'll be able to do a second playthough as I wait for game 2's Kickstarter!

...

And that's 2024! Any shared favorites?

- Gemini 🫶🏾

[silens-oro]

cant stop thinking abt au househusband!pope where he slows down enough to not have to physically be doing the heist but is like getaway driver or lookout or just planner/recon. anyway that doesnt matter. but staying home with the baby(ies) and lena and keeping house and nesting because he loves the space he has w hawk and their little brood. cleaning the house like a champ w the baby and planning like school stuff for lena; baby on his chest while he chaperones the latest field trip with his natural pout and the other parents like damn who’s scary jerry over here and lena’s friends r like THATS THE POPE HES COOL

I’ve been holding onto this, but I need to you know that I have a baby au piece about this cooking because the concept of the field trip TICKLED me. I lost my mind when I read “scary jerry”.

This man thrives as a (mostly) stay at home dad. That’s not to say that Hawk doesn’t help around the house when she’s home, but Pope is very…particular about the way he cleans and Hawk learned that the hard way when they got serious and he started doing things around the house more and more, especially leading up to Thalia’s arrival. Turns out there’s Pope’s way of cleaning and then there’s the wrong way. God forbid a girl load the dishwasher the wrong way.

“I’ve been doing it this way since I got the damn thing, Andy. I think I know how to load a dishwasher.”

“Think again.” He’d respond completely deadpanned, then he’d bump her out of the way with his hip to make a show of switching a cup and a bowl to their designated spaces because it mattered. Hawk would roll her eyes, but didn’t take it personally because at the end of the day she knew his OCD would eat him alive if it wasn’t done just right.

He’d help Lena with school work and projects, taking her to the craft store for a science project she needed to make a poster board for. Thalia would be babbling, strapped to his chest while Lena led him through the store to the supplies she needed. The looks he’d get in the beginning would wiggle him out, but once Hawk explained that he was the hot dad with a cute baby strapped to him and a bouncing kid yapping away happily at him, his eyes were open.

Same thing happened the first time he chaperoned a field trip to SEA LIFE Aquarium in Carlsbad just after Thalia had turned a year old. A few parents were more than put off by him, naturally, but as the trip progressed and some of the moms saw the way he interacted with Thalia, Lena, and Lena’s friends…they were more than a little interested in the stoic mystery that was Andrew Cody. Because how scary could he actually be if the kids, not just his own, were comfortable around him? Some of the moms even tried to initiate conversation with him about Thalia or Lena while he’s showing Thalia some fish through the massive plexiglass tank, but the identical look they’d receive from both Pope and Thalia for interrupting their time was absolutely comical.

[wolfertinger]

I couldn't really give a shit about being anon for this because calling my gf a "whitewashed philas" is fucking crazy considering that she wasn't thinking about your stupid boyfriend's gooner bait OC 🤪🤪🤪🤪

I was literally in call with her while she designed Phanuel from the ground up, we didn't even fucking know about your sorry cracker ass and "pup's gotta eat" mf.

You really don't know how to fucking shut up AND YET YOU STILL CAN'T GO ANYWHERE WITH ALL THE SHIT THAT SPEWS FROM YOUR MOUTH 😭😭

EVEN SO.

Yammy had made Phanuel much before she even posted the art dump of her on tumblr, sometime in April 2024, maybe even earlier possibly. I’d try to grab from twitter, but it’s search function is so fucky. REGARDLESS, THIS IS STILL GIVING YOUR FUCKASS BOYFRIEND LEEWAY? AND YET WOAHHH CRAZY THAT REDESIGNED VERS CAME OUT SO FAR AHEAD (strictly the suit vers).

This is not me saying that puppychan took shit from Phanuel to slap onto Philas. This is me saying to shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down unless you know what you’re talking about. OH WAIT! You never fucking do! But ohh wait, you’ll probably yap about OHHH WELL WHAT ABOUT THE ORIGINAL PHILAS DESIGN WAHHHH!

BITCH LOOK AT THAT FUCKER AND TRY TO COMPARE IT TO PHANUEL 😭😭😭 FUCKING MENTALLLL DUDE SHUT UPPPPP

Again. We had no fucking idea EITHER of you fucking existed in that VC designing call. It wasn’t until later down the line you guys took in Majora like the fucking cunts you are, having Yam dragged into all of this bullshit.

Anyway. That’s all for now. Bye, crackerrr, byee kung fu revvyyyyyy 😋

Liminal out

.

[an-eggs-quest]

Can you please make a post about your kevin ( Barnes ) design?

You have no idea how excited I was to see this ask. Considering I was gonna make one anyway…

Here’s Kevin! There’s gonna be a more color accurate version at the bottom of this since unfortunately the markers I needed were dried out :(

I honestly had some trouble with him compared to Matthew but I’m pretty satisfied with the end result!

Anyway! He has some stickers on his vest/over shirt thing of a “Good Job!” Type star, dogday, and a blue smiley face. From this point on it’s getting into fun-thoughts-i-had-while-designing territory so here’s a few more doodles before I start yapping

I like to think his favorite smiling critter was dogday but to avoid being seen as basic he’d say Kickin.

I also like to think he carries stuff in his pockets! Whole lot of trash he forgot to throw out and little toys to hold onto. Like he’s got a whole mess of marbles in one of them, he likes to collect them! They’d probably be rewards in class that he’s gathered over the years. Gets pretty upset if he can’t find one.

He’s kind of a mess from roughhousing so he’s got a couple of scars and actively healing bruises on him. But he’s a tough kid they don’t bother him

I honestly really wanted to give him braces but considering the circumstances I don’t think it would make much sense. In another life perhaps

Anyway color accurate version ft. Shitty doodle:

[xi-xi-chen]

do you think you would ever eventually draw a grown up version of jinx, lux and isha? seeing all the headcanons about them made me start thinking about how lightcannon would handle isha through her teenage/young adult years,,,,, like half of it comes from my desire of wanting to see lightcannon's dynamic as they become a bit more mature and their trauma/hurt is less raw? (if that makes sense? like being able to see them as adults who have grown to be a bit more grounded and secure 🥹) and also wanting to see what isha would look/act like as she grows up bc ... she was robbed of that in canon 🥲🥲🥲

btw i don't mean this as a request or me pressuring u to draw them !! i just wanted to yap about them bc im in my lightcannon + isha sappy feels 🫠

(sidenote: do we have a name for the lightcannon + isha found family relationship?? they literally mean everything to me ☹️💕)

Aw, no problem, I've been wanting to get around to this anyway. I went back and did a rough character study and tried to keep as much of the same features in. However, I tried not to worry too much since this is essentially a transformation from child to semi-adult.

The inspo mostly came from my own hairstyle, I've got curls similar to Isha's at the top, but it strengthens at the ends and back. So with enough length, I sometimes put tiny braids in, so that's where this particular design comes from, of course, with some help of reference from chosen Pinterest images, too. I also wanted to leave Isha's imitation, I think she'd still want to copy Jinx's hairstyles once in a while and implement the same cuts on a smaller scale.

As far as maturity goes, I think they'd communicate pretty efficiently, but of course, to a degree for some needed independence once in a while and all that jazz. However, I imagine they'd also be a tightly knit together family, close enough that they'd want to always carry something around that reminds them of the other. I think for Isha, that's in the form of images and colors, so hair dye and accessories.

I see Jinx growing out her hair eventually, like a wolf cut style, because even I miss my long ass hair from way back when, but Iove the tapers, so a shaved side of the head would follow along. Lux would probably get the cut just shy of the chin and finally use hair dye for the first time. But I can't decide if she'd go as far as to get an undercut as well. I think Jinx would want some kind of trinket for them, so she'd probably go onto wearing piercings, and they'd follow the idea. So, yeah, just little things that represent one another.

These are just a very few rough drafts, I really wanted to draw them, so I'm glad you've shared your thoughts with me, it helped me push through to get something up and running.

(I don't know any new names

for the lightcannon+Isha 😔)

[hyuneskkami]

✮⋆˙ 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 = 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐒

⤷ leo valdez x daughter of athena!reader

masterlist

♡ fandom | percy jackson and the heroes of olympus

♡ includes | best friends with hints of romantic feelings (if I ever find the energy to make a part two, it’d actually be cool 😔), barely any angst to comfort, collective adhd levels being off the charts, yapping.

♡ in which | y/n and leo sharing a common love for designing and building things <3, reader and leo, both have nightmares (not described too vividly), reader uses swear words <3.

♡ a/n | jdkfcjqdkb I wrote this and forgot to post it ;-; anyway, this is one of my new fav leo fics i've ever written bc I get to geek out 🫶 + the technical part of this is inspired by my love for fast and furious + my new interest in f1, so enjoy!!

♡ wc | 1.0k

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

“are you ready, child of athena?” a god’s voice boomed around us. I took a few steps to the front to be side-by-side with my brother, malcolm pace.

“you’re not leaving me, now of all times—”

“i’m sorry, mou ilios, I have to. you know I do.”

“mal, please, I— who’s going to lead the cabin if you’re gone? how can you be so selfish—”

“you, n/n. I know you can do it,” malcolm said, and stepped in front of me. he raised his hands and gently pushed me further behind him, enveloping me in his shadow.

“it’s one child of athena you want,” malcolm paused. “take me.”

“PLEASE NO—”

fuck.

I sat up on my bed. I picked up a watch from the bedside table—a watch that once was malcolm’s, but mine, now—which read 2:47.

I threw my blanket to the side, which did little to cover me up anyway, and got up to check on the little kids. they were all sound asleep.

for the next 10 minutes—or what felt like an hour—I walked around the cabin, cleaning it up and trying to fall asleep.

but when has sleep ever come to you when you needed it the most?

I feared reliving malcolm’s last moments before he left me, everytime I closed my eyes. stranded me here, disappearing without any advice on how to lead, or how to live.

I leant against the cabin door and felt the cool air from the bottom of the door blowing onto my feet. finally realising that I couldn’t go back to sleep, I decided to go out for a walk.

“and where are you off to?” annie’s voice whispered from her bed. she was still half asleep and groggy.

“heading out for a walk. can’t sleep,” I said.

“take the cap, and don’t get caught. i’m not helping you out with the dishes if you get caught by those harpies,” she grumbled. I smiled and took her cap from the coat rack beside the door, and stepped out into the cold night in nothing but sweats and a tank top.

great choice, y/n. good job on not realising what you were even wearing. now, you can die of the cold, if the harpies don’t get you first. yay!

I put on annie’s cap, watching my shadow disappear with me. I walked around aimlessly, thinking of malcolm helping me pick my first dagger, which was currently concealed with the help of the waistband of my sweatpants.

my feet subconsciously drag me to bunker nine, where I heard noises from. I go closer only to find light glowing from the open door.

I was facing my best friend’s back, hunched over a project, probably. if he turned around, I bet he’d look sleep-deprived and in need of coffee.

before I could take off the cap, he said, “hey, n/n!” and turned around with a grin.

“shut the fuck up, man, how did you just do that—” I complained, taking the cap off.

“I felt the sleep deprivation and negativity enter the room and guess who it was?” he wiggled his eyebrows and left his project unattended behind him.

“whatever,” I rolled my eyes at him and flopped down onto his couch. we looked at each other for an entirety of a few seconds before I opened my arms and he tumbled onto me.

“nightmares?” I asked.

“mhm.”

“same.”

“cuddle?”

“fuck yes, please.”

timeskip

it was around 4 in the morning when we wrapped up our movie night—movie morning?—with leo’s face buried in my neck, cuddling.

“wanna stay like this forever,” he said, his voice muffled. I smiled.

“or we could finish building what you were working on before I came,” I suggested. he looked up suddenly, with all his energy regained.

“hell yes!” he whisper-yelled, pumping his fist in the air and getting up. pulling me up from the couch, he continued. “I was working on building my own 1.6 litre four-stroke turbocharged 90 degree V6 double-overhead camshaft reciprocating engine. there’s these things called street races in tokyo, and this engine is basically my ticket to winning the next series there! wanna come with me and check out the coolest cars ever, next year?”

“oh, dude, you’re on! i’ve heard it’s basically motorsports heaven—”

“it is!”

“and we’re building our own fucking engine!?”

“we are—”

“oh, this is SO cool!”

“i’ve gotta start reworking on the specs, because I keep getting them wrong. can you take a look at them once?” he asked.

I nodded and moved towards his work table where used plotter papers lied. after taking in his planning and figuring out where he went wrong, I pulled out a new paper, and sharpened the blunt pencil.

I wanted to put my hair up but realised I forgot my hair tie at cabin six. I turned around to ask leo if i’d left any here when he removed a black hair tie from his wrist and dangled it in front of my face.

my cheeks flushed at the thought of him wearing it everyday. it felt so intimate, but it wasn’t that deep, really.

right?

I thanked him quietly and he pulled two chairs in front of the table, on which we sat down and started working on drafting the new specs together.

after about an hour, neither of us could keep our eyes open and moved to the couch, falling asleep together with whispered promises of finishing the blueprints the next day.

“cute fit, by the way,” he whispered. I looked down and realised it was his birthday gift to me from last year, and smiled.