#arch hive

[keepingitneutral]

“Upcycled Collectives”

The project proposes an alternative architecture where construction debris up-cycling and mirco-climate systems work together to achieve architectural resilience in extreme weather conditions. 

This approach argues for a "more is more" ethos; the accumulation of discrete leftover or refused material for its own sake. Reducing waste in landfills, local job sites and advocating for a radical change in our current waste and material supply chains while empowering local communities.

Erick Vernon-Galindo / Arch Hive

#art #design #Architecture #upcycle #concept #conceptual #sustainability #sustainable architecture #erick vernon-galindo #wood #debris #resilience #climate change #urbanism #arch hive

[the-arch-hive]

We're thrilled to announce that our fifth (fifth!!!!!) collaborative art show, PUBLIC DREAMS // PRIVATE MYTHS, will be opening in Provo later this week. From seagulls in the skies to monsters under the water, this show features work from ten different artists exploring past, present, and even future Mormon folklore and mythology.

To celebrate, we'd love to have you join us at the show's opening reception from 6-9 pm on December 1, 2023 at Writ and Vision (274 W Center St, Provo).

#the arch-hive #hive show #mormon art #lds art #mormon folklore #tumblrstake #provo #events #night vale first ward #<- not specifically that but it's a vibe you folks might enjoy

[stoneandleadart]

I probably won't continue with the challenge--at least not seriously. but, y'know, conference weekend. click for full quality.

Radiant

#radient #digital art #religious art #archtober2023 #the arch hive #art #jesus #ldsconf

[brothermouse]

ARCHTOBER BAYBEEEEE!

I'm gonna be in-freakin-sufferable for a MONTH!

Except, perhaps, for the week I'll be lost at sea, but maybe I'll find a work around.

#ARCHTOBER2023 #the arch hive #tumblrstake #lds #mormon #lds church #ldschurch #just mormon things #mormon church #ldslife #queerstake #mormon memes #weird mormon art #mormon art #mormon artist #lds art #weird lds art #lds artist

[lavenderpanic]

Whenever I see some moderately attractive 35 year old white man get on tiktok and make stupid puppydog faces at the camera with Lana in the background and I open the comments and it's a bunch of adolescent girls talking about how they need an older man like him... makes me wanna scream. Babe his name is Seth and he's like a data consultant at a marketing firm or something who eats microwave burritos for all his meals he isn't sexyyy ugh it just annoys me

#also this isn't about anyone in particular I'm just grumpy #sorry to any 35 year old data consultants named Seth #I just have a really bad headache lmfao #that song “think I need someone older” or whatever is my arch nemesis #makes me break out in hives #you don't need someone older you have a pre-calc test monday

[im-very-sorry]

i have fucking hives on my fuckign gotdsamn FEETS

#hives #im going to lose it #there are hives on my arch of my foot #it hurts to fuckgni walk #god damnit #fuck #ouchie #owie #allergies #im not even fucking allergic to anything #i just have chronic hives and am having a flare up #i am frothing at the mouth #i am experiencing pain that is regular to me #and i am going to take down the twin fucking towers #my FEETS #my FOOTS #they HURT #they ITCH #AHHHHHHHHH #MOTHERFUCKER

[maelialuv]

oh my god. can i pretty please get a part two to Call It What You Want (steve harrington)? steve fails to disregard his feelings towards the reader after sleeping together, but how long can he go until he breaks after seeing she’s completely neglected his existence. smut! (rough sex, but very passionate cause why not lol, perv!steve, jealous!steve and pls add anything if you’d like! thank you love :’)

So It Goes, Steve Harrington .

(part two to Call It What You Want)

Sumarry: Hooking up with your old bully was never on the cards. But Steve Harrington has a habit of getting in the way of plans.

Warnings: SMUT! this is FILTHY! slowburn! breeding kink! perv!steve (a teeny bit), angst! steve is hopeless with women, fluffy ending <3

Word count: 9.5K (ohmygod)

It had been one week since you'd done it. One week since you'd done the most reckless thing in your whole life. Seven days since you'd lost your head and slept with your old bully. Seven days since you'd slept with your, supposed, best friend's ex-boyfriend. Just seven days since you'd slept with Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High.

The morning after replayed in your mind like a broken tape, in torturous clarity thanks to not having a hangover. The way you ran from the Harrington residence played behind your eyes without end. The walk home, unkindly long and silent with nothing but your thoughts - memories of him, and the way he touched you- to keep you company. The way you ran to your bathroom, stripping down and tossing his clothes in your hamper as if they were toxic waste, and the way you scrubbed your body in the shower as if the soap would somehow remove the feeling of his hands on you from your head. You didn't know if you were more disgusted with yourself for doing it. or for the fact that somewhere inside, you wanted it to happen again.

You felt different, like someone else, as you got ready in the mirror each day that proceeded the party. Felt guilty as you looked at the arch of your neck, the feeling of Steve’s lips there still as strong as they were that night. You felt a pit in your stomach as you looked at your nose, remembering the way Steve had placed a delicate kiss there , feather light, as he washed your skin in the shower. You now saw yourself as a reckless idiot, driven by some unknown desire for what? Closure? Or was it power that your subconscious so desperately wanted?

You only hoped your mindless scrubbing in the shower, skin red as you zoned out, would tell you the answers. You found no solace in the space between the tiles, only lime build up.

You wouldn't tell a soul. Your parents were none the wiser, as were your friends, to the battle your brain was at with your heart.

An aggression had settled over you, a dark looming cloud any time he was mentioned. You became snippy, unjustifiably short. Chrissy assumed you were pissed off about the party, still reeling from the belittling interaction with Carol and Tommy, as well as Steve.

She had apologised relentlessly in the days following. On and on, despite your reassurance, Chrissy swore she would never let "the redheaded witch and her flying monkey" talk to to you ever again.

The week had gone that way, Chrissy sending you an apologetic glance any time Harrington, the party or anything relating to them was mentioned. You felt guilty that she felt guilty, but you could never tell her what happened. You already felt like a massive hypocrite, you couldn't bear to have another person know it too.

You'd been stood by your locker, thankful for the lack of a certain basketball player in the halls, having had been able to avoid him for the full school week, when Chrissy bounded over to you. Without a word, she grabbed your hand and - with surprising strength- dragged you into the nearest bathroom.

"Did you hear?" she said, voice a mix of shock and curiosity. Immediately paranoia spread over you like hives, certain that Chrissy was doing damage control. "Steve and Nancy broke up at the party on Saturday." Her voice was even, no hint of suspicion or knowledge or anything, or anyone, that you had done.

"Woah," you said, hoping only you heard the waver in your voice as you tried your best to keep your face void of guilt, "what happened?" you asked, knowing that any account you heard would never be as accurate to the front row seat you had to the argument.

You hardly heard Chrissy as she spoke, her animated words falling on deaf ears as you realised that nearly every person was going to be talking about Nancy and Steve. The It Couple, King and Queen of the school, had fallen apart. Every girl was going to be fawning over Steve again- not that Nancy had stopped them, now they would be more overt- and Nancy would be the One that Got Away. You felt angry when Chrissy mention there were whispers that Steve was holed up in his house, heartbroken over the split. You felt even worse when she told you that Nancy was already dealing with a rehash of last years cheating rumours.

Nancy had to hold you back from ripping Steve's head off last fall over the, now, infamous 'Nancy 'The Slut' Wheeler' graffiti.

This wasn't part of your plan. You'd made such good friends, come out of your shell, cemented yourself as a somebody. Nancy was happy, you were happy and everything was fine just the way it was.

And Steve Harrington was messing it all up.

Your first classes went by in blurry seconds, your attention focused on the cracks in your desk or the clouds outside as you thought about the whole nuclear explosion of a situation. You wished you'd never agreed to go to the stupid party. You wished you'd just shrugged out of Harrington's grip and run downstairs and gone home. You wished you hadn't kissed Steve back when he leaned in, wished you'd pushed him off instead of tugging him closer.

You wished you could rewind time and not allow him to touch you, make time stop and slap yourself for loving it so much. You hoped you would forget how he made you feel; the white hot burning on your skin as his lips travelled across your stomach, the gentle touch of his hands as he dried your hair and dressed you in his clothes.

You hoped you would forget everything about Steve Harington.

Deciding on a healthy dose of ditching, you made your way out to the school's parking lot, intent on walking home and enjoying the empty house whilst your parents worked.

Then you saw him sat on the hood of his car, a cigarette dangling from his lip as he brushed a frustrated hand through his hair. Your feet felt as though they were glued to the floor as his eyes met yours, unable to move like his gaze willed you to stay there. It was the first time you'd seen him since then. It was only when he raised the carton to you - a peace offering- that you were able to move your limbs and walk over to Steve. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans, and your mind was cast back to the sweatshirt sitting in your hamper getting buried under clothes like that would make it disappear. When you took a cigarette, Steve held the lighter out and lit it for you. An entirely too flirtatious gesture given the gossipy climate.

"You took off on Sunday," he said, a statement and not a question. His voice was indifferent, but his brows furrowed as he spoke. "Left your clothes behind."

"Yeah, I did." You took long drags, hoping the edge in your voice was a clear enough message to Steve that you didn't need to talk about that. He scooted over on the hood, an invitation to sit. You remained standing, and Steve pursed his lips.

You didn't need to be told to relive the awkwardness you felt when you'd woken up. The way Steve was already awake , tall silhouette in the doorway as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom. The room was suddenly too small, Steve's clothes suddenly suffocating. You heard the shower turn on, sensing time for escape. You'd thrown on your shoes, crept out of the room and booked it out of the Harrington house. Steve had watched as you disappeared down the street from the bathroom window. You'd caught a glimpse of his figure as you threw a nervous glance over your shoulder, fearful of prying eyes seeing you do a walk - or run- of shame from the house.

"Been looking for you, you know." He said, almost shy as he squinted into the sun.

"Not very hard, clearly." you scoffed. When Steve just looked at you, eyes soft, you went on. "Why?"

"Why do you think," it was Steve's turn to laugh, though his was not mocking. It was sincere, too kind. Real. "I want to talk to you."

Knots formed in your stomach, and your brows knit together in a tight line. "What is there to talk about?" you said harshly, feeling a pang of guilt as Steve recoiled, "we slept together, Steve. It happened, cool. End of story." You said, turning to walk away when Steve reached for your elbow.

"Well, hang on there a second," Steve said, stubbing his cigarette out and standing, hands on his hips, "I think there's some stuff to talk about." He looked around, nervous for prying eyes. "Like the fact that that," he said, astounded, "was the best I've ever had." He took a step closer to you. You shrugged him off when he rested a hand on your arm. "There's clearly something between us, here."

You hated to admit it, or agree with him in any way, but Steve was right. You'd had your share of guys, but Steve was unlike any of them. The sex was incredible, as was the chemistry. You'd had to re-live it, in excruciating detail, most nights since the party. But Steve was not a good guy to get involved with, and not someone you could forgive yourself for forgiving. So you remained stand offish, cold, to the boy.

"Sex is sex , Steve, you'll find another 'best' in a month." You dismissed, wishing you'd ignored him and gone straight home. His face was pleading, and it made him look younger, like a lost child looking for their mother. “Look, it was a one time thing. Go back to Tommy and Carol, and forget it ever happened. Got it?”

Steve’s face contorted, a mix of frustration and confusion and a little bit of anger. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. He was meant to find you the day after, be there at your door with a speech prepared about how truly sorry he was for how things went. But he was so taken a back by your escape, the only proof that you had been there being your clothes strewn about across his bedroom floor, that he just sat by his pool staring into space. He was meant to call you, convince you to come over so you could talk it out. But then he couldn’t find your number - and god forbid he call Nancy to get it.

Steve was conflicted. He was heartbroken about his breakup with Nancy. He loved her , or thought he loved her, with everything he had. But this part of him, this nagging part that wouldn’t shut up, was more hurt by you leaving. Upset that he couldn't drive you home or kiss you goodbye or convince you to stay just a little longer. He regretted not saying more in the moment, because maybe then you wouldn't have skipped out on him. If he'd just talked more, maybe stood up for you a little, then perhaps you would have stayed.

"Can we just go somewhere and talk?" he said, eyes pleading and a little desperate. "Please?"

His begging made your stomach churn. You had to get away from him, before whatever magnetic bullshit he had on you went into full effect and you threw yourself into his arms and agreed to hear him out. You stubbed your cigarette out with your shoe.

"I'm going home, Steve."

You hoped that your curtness would deter him. A nagging part of you felt bad, worrying that maybe - just maybe- you should have heard Steve out, that you were robbing yourself of some kind of closure both for your past and for that night. The other, more logical, half felt firm and strong. Finally, finally, it was you making Steve Harrington feel defeated. For once it was him feeling wronged.

You threw his clothes in the laundry when you got home.

It was seven thirty when Chrissy called you, and you were laid back on your bed. Her sudden excitement caught you off guard. "Woah, Chris, slow down," you said, "in English please."

"We're going to a pool party tomorrow!" she all but yelled, and you could imagine her riffling through her dresser for swim suit options. "And before you say no, it's the last pool party of the season before it gets so cold that we have to look like artic explorers for the next three months." There was a clunk, and then Chrissy let out a euphoric squeal. "Found it!"

You rolled over on to your side, twirling the phone cord in your hand as you laughed at your friend. "Okay, okay, I'll go. Who's throwing a pool party this close to Halloween?" you asked, face screwed up at the thought of the late October breeze on bare legs.

"It's Steve Harrington!"

You sat right up in bed, almost dropping the phone off the side of the bed. Of course, of course, he was throwing another party. And of course, you'd already agreed to go. "Oh," was all you could say.

"Look, I know Saturday was pretty intense," Chrissy argued, not realising just how correct her statement was, "but you can just stick with me, and even Eddie is going so he'll be there if you feel the urge to kick Harrington into the pool."

The knowledge that Munson - a long time friend and supplier of party materials for you and Chrissy- would be in attendance made the nausea somewhat subside. But the thought of going back to the Harrington residence, the thought of seeing Steve there again after the way today had gone, made bile rise in your throat. "Okay," you said to Chrissy, knowing you would be able to show your face for twenty minutes before convincing Eddie to let you smoke in the back of his van before getting a ride home, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You fell back on the bed, wishing the mattress would swallow you. It was like you were an alcoholic going into a bar, or rather a masochist for allowing yourself to relive what had caused you significant pain. You didn't even know if you had swimsuit still.

Digging through your dresser, finding sparkly denim from middle school, you thought your search was over. But then, in the very back of the bottom draw, you found your old prized possession.

The red sports illustrated bikini from 10th grade.

You'd bought it as a joke on a hot summer's day in 1983, a mall trip with Nancy on one of the many days you spent together attached at the hip. The poster next to the rack of bikinis had Brooke Shields, posed flirtatiously on a rocky beach, in the red suit. "You should get this for the pool!" Nancy had suggested, picking up the material and holding it to your chest. "It would look amazing!"

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you looked at it in Nancy's hands. "Are you kidding?", you exclaimed, holding the flimsy bikini in your hands, "it looks like an eye patch!" You fought with Nancy over it, citing that your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you wearing it. In the end, Nancy bought it for you, told you that you should save it for "knocking boys dead in college." At the time, you agreed with her. Looking back, it was a put down.

Nancy was an expert at the accidental back handed compliment.

Holding the suit in your hands, your senior body much more equipped for the top than your 10th grade self, a sly smirk etched its way on to your lips. You were going to knock the boys dead, after all.

You had arranged with Eddie that he would pick you up the next night at 7:30, parked down the street near the pay phone. The Munson boy called you at 7:25, letting you know he was on the corner of your cul-de-sac, ready to roll. When you walked to his car, Eddie rolled down the passenger side window with a slack jaw. He looked you up and down without shame, eyes wide. You were wearing a pair of denim shorts, the red bikini top and a denim jacket.

"How much for a ride around the block, sweetheart?" he smiled wolfishly, fishing his wallet out of his jeans.

You smacked his shoulder as you buckled your seatbelt, though you knew he was being tame. "Careful , Munson, before my mother hears you from the house." Eddie let out a hysterical chuckle.

"Oh, I think we both know you can drop the innocent act, sweetheart. Let's not forget I've seen you dance on bars after some Special K." He started the engine, music blaring through the speakers. Turning the corner of your street, he looked at you. "You're not fooling anyone."

You hoped you would fool some people, as the ride to Steve's house seemed impossibly shorter than the week prior. You gripped the seat next to you as Eddie found a spot on the street to park. You felt worse than last Saturday, entirely out of your depth and swallowed by nerves. Eddie cut the engine, a worried knit in his brow. "You good?" he asked, waving a hand in front of your eyes.

"Eds," you said, worried waver in your voice. "What...have you got on you now?" You said, eyes speaking the words the nausea prevented you from saying. "I think I need a boost."

The crinkle between his brows deepened. In the years that Eddie had known you - both loner and in your party days- you had never asked him for supplies before a party. There was a small, but concerned, frown on his face. "What's going on man?", he asked, turning completely toward you, "you freaked or something?"

You wracked your brain for any excuse other than the obvious. You'd known Eddie a long time. If anyone was going to let you spew your guts, without judgement, it was Eddie Munson.

"Listen," you started, " I did something really stupid at that party last week. Like, catastrophically stupid." When Eddie stayed silent, you went on. "I'm going to tell you something, and you have to swear you won't tell anyone."

"Who am I gonna tell?" He laughed, cutting himself short when you face hardened. "Okay," he said, "I swear. Girl's Scouts honour."

You told him everything. From the interaction with Carol and Tommy, to hearing Steve and Nancy break up. You told him about the kiss, the bathroom counter.....the shower. You told him how you'd run the next morning, how you'd been so sick from guilt. You told him every last excruciating detail. Eddie's eyes were wide, in an unreadable mix of shock, confusion and almost pride.

"What....the fuck," he whispered, a teasing smile on his face. "That's intense, and I'm not judging, but," he leaned in close, whispering to you. You leaned in as well. "You let Steve Harrington shoot his load in you?"

The way he said it, unforgiving and entirely true - making you realise just how reckless the entire thing was- made you cringe inward, hiding your face in your hands. "Eddie!"

"Hey, no judgement....," he grimaced a little, another laugh causing him to smile, "except maybe a little judgement here, the dude's a tool!" When you continued to hide your face, Eddie pulled a small bag out of his pocket. "Just a little alright? Lord knows I'd need it if I were you."

That's how you ended up doing a few bumps off a Motley Crue CD in the passenger seat of Eddie's van. You were raring to go, the nausea lurking back into its hiding place as you went through the side gate to Steve Harrington's back yard. You called Chrissy's name from the pool steps when you saw her playing chicken with Jason and a few of the other cheerleaders. The moment Chrissy locked eyes with you across the pool, her own jaw went slack.

"HOLY SHIT."

Her exclamation made almost every head turn your way. You'd taken off the jacket, giving Eddie the job of holding your things - which he begrudgingly excepted-, your red bikini top now on full display. Several eyes on you at once, the buzz of Eddie's special K and the continuous thrum of the music made you feel exceedingly alive. What's more, you felt a certain someone staring daggers into the side of your head, having noticed him in the corner of the pool the very second you stepped foot into his back yard. You kept your eyes forward, looking anywhere but at him.

This was a party.

Chrissy jumped off of Jason's shoulders, sending him flailing back into the water as she swam over to you on the side. Hoisting herself up, she enveloped you in a dripping wet hug. "Just where have they been hiding, huh?" she said, eyes darting to your chest and back again. You laughed at her candour, her inability to hide her every thought. "Don't just stand there, come get a drink! Mind if I steal her, Eddie? Promise I'll give her back." She said with a giggle, swaying your connected hands between the two of you.

"She knows where I'll be," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Come find me if you need me, alright?" He said. You smiled at him, thankful that he had been there for you. You felt tons lighter now that someone else knew your secret.

Chrissy dragged you to the make shift bar on a table by the grass, coolers of beer and the notorious punch bowl calling your names. She grabbed you a glass, giving you a generous ladle full of punch that was so strong it had a resemblance to the smell of paint thinner. "So," she said, getting herself a drink, "what's going on with you and Eddie?" You nearly choked at her words.

"Me and Eddie, no way," you said, turning to look at the boy. He was wearing dark swim trunks and his guitar pic necklace. His chest full of tattoos was on full display, earning him the attention of several girls. "There's nothing going on there." Chrissy was watching you intently, the way your eyes travelled down Eddie's toned chest, lingering on the ink closest to his hip bones, pool lights accentuating their v shape. "No way."

"His eyes are up there, babe." She said, giggling as you turned back to her with a face the same colour as the red solo cup in your hand.

Eddie and you had been friends for too long, seen each other in every awkward phase, to be anything more than close friends. Sure, you both found each other attractive. That much was clear from the occasional oggling you each gave each other. You had even kissed once in 9th grade, the memory of said interaction haunting you both so much that any thought of being anything other than each other's friend sent a ghostly shiver up your spines. You'd been denying dating accusations from your mother and Eddie's Uncle Wayne for years. Uncle Wayne still had his suspicions, citing that no two teenagers needed to spend that much time in Eddie's room with a locked door. He just didn't know you were doing Special K and not each other.

"No way," you said again, taking a large swig of your drink, "way too much history there." Beside you, Chrissy smirked. With a quirked brow, she looked from you to the Munson boy, then back to you.

"Whatever you say," she said , tone full of disbelief. She bumped your shoulder with her own, prodding a teasing finger into your still flushed cheeks. "But I've got a radar for these things."

You held back a laugh, self deprecating and and entirely inappropriate, as you thought of how off Chrissy's radar was last weekend, how you and a certain brown eyed boy had completely forgone her so called sixth sense.

The party was in full swing by the time someone suggested a Keg Stand. You were in the pool with Chrissy and the other cheerleaders, laughing as the boys - including Eddie, which made you smile as he'd never gotten along with Jason and the basket ball players- relentlessly splashed you. All the while, you continued to feel a pair of eyes on the back of your head. You hadn't spared him a glance , enjoying the water and the company and the drinks without the reminder of the pit in your stomach. A circle was gathering round the edges of the pool as Tommy was picking his contenders for the Keg Stand, always too much of a coward to attempt and embarrass himself. "Jason, my man! Come on, show us how its done!"

Jason rolled his eyes at Tommy's antics. "I don't know man, someone's gotta be a designated driver."

"Come on, don't be such a pussy, Jase."

A serge of confidence - maybe down to the heat of the moment, or maybe the two bumps in Eddie's van- made you raise a high hand.

"I'll do it. I'm not driving." You were already hoisting yourself over the edge of the pool as Tommy stuttered over his words, trying to find a reason to say no, or a way to put you down. It was every guys fantasy - a girl in a dripping wet bikini on a keg. You may as well have been the sports illustrated cover you bought the swimsuit from.

"Alright, then. Steve!" Tommy called, and a cold jolt rain through you, "we found you a competitor!"

You felt him stand next to you, felt the heat of his body radiating toward you. You didn't dare look at him. An awkwardness threatened the air, looming. You risked a word.

"May the best man win."

You were hoisted up on to your keg by Jason, the rest of the basketball players gathered round and cheering you on. Steve was thrown on by Tommy, Carol next to him, and a gaggle of girls had come to watch. "Alright, " Tommy began, "two minutes for the whole keg. No breaks. Loser has to leave the party."

"It's my party, dip shit." Steve barked, frustration clear through his gritted teeth.'

"Guess you better win then, Harrington."

Your hands tightened on the side of the keg, knuckles going white with nerves. Tommy counted down from three, blowing a whistle to mark the start of your time. You were never a beer girl, but in the face of loosing to Steve Harrington in front of a crowd of people it could have been mistaken for your favourite drink. You chugged the cheap booze like you were a desert explorer stumbling on an oasis. The cheers of the crowd were silent on deaf ears, your only focus being the tube in your mouth and your grip on the keg. Your eyes were closed, the world drowned out. You were definitely going to puke, and you were definitely going to loose. Your brows scrunched in anger at the thought of the humiliation. Steve Harrington, getting the glory again. It made your eyes burn with the threat of angry, embarrassed tears. It made you question why you'd even agreed to come tonight.

The tug on your legs brought you back to earth, jovial cheers from both Chrissy and basketball teams as they pulled you down before lifting you on to Eddie's shoulders being the first indicators to your short circuiting brain. You'd finished your keg in one minute and thirty two seconds. The pool was alive with celebratory splashing. The crowd around the kegs began chanting your name, following Eddie's lead as he cupped his hands and heckled.

"All hail the new Queen of Hawkins!"

You caught Steve's eye as he glared at the scene unfolding around him. He tossed his cup on the ground - you had to hold back a laugh at his childish antics- as he stormed off, disappearing inside the open door at the edge of the house. A smug grin stretched from one ear to another as Eddie let you down to the ground. "You showed him who's boss, that's for sure," he chuckled, eyes following Steve's retreating figure. "Who knew he was such a sore loser."

"Maybe I should go and talk to him." You said, the beer telling you it was a fantastic idea. The devious smile on Eddie's face told you otherwise. "Oh yeah, because there'd be so much talking going on," he said, making an O shape with his hand before shaking it, "so much to talk about, isn't there."

You nearly ripped his arm off. The look on your face was murderous, and Eddie's laughter only grew louder.

"I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Ouch!", Eddie cried, devilish grin driving you nuts, "Lucky boy!"

You made your way to the kitchen of the Harrington house, which was the last place you saw Steve go. He wasn't there, no body was. The whole lower floor was desolate, every room a ghost town of empty cups and discarded shoes. You braved a peek up the stairs, craning your neck to see if he was lingering on the landing, to no avail. You crept up the stairs, foot steps leaving damp spots on the carpet and creaking on the old wood. Just as the rest of the house was, it was deserted.

All doors were shut tight. Harrington clearly did not want to be found. You would allow him space to wallow in his loss, already missing the glory and attention of the pool. You were reaching for the banister when a warm hand grabbed your shoulder and dragged you back into a linen closet.

With a yank of a light, Steve's face was illuminated. His face was stony, annoyed, eyes dark. It would have been scary, had you not just seen him throw a tantrum like a toddler.

Your hair dripping water on to the floor of the closet was the only sound other than the both of you breathing ragged, laboured breaths. There was a long silence before either one of you spoke.

"You sure have a flare for the dramatic," you said, gesturing to the light and the confines of the closet. "You couldn't fit in the pantry?"

Steve just looked at you, jaw set in a tight line. His eyes, however, darted all over your face; your eyes, lips, nose, cheeks. Bored of his silence, you tried for the door. He stepped in front of you., You got a dreadful sense of deja vu. "Okay, we're not doing this again."

"Hell yes we are," Steve finally said voice gruff. He had a brooding stare in his face, eyes frustrated and a little desperate - fearful. It looked as if he were worried you'd skip out on him again.

You glared up at him, irritated beyond measure.

"I came up here to see if you were okay after your little outburst out there, but you're acting like a real entitled douche here, Harrington." You pushed his shoulder - a little harder than you intended, only meaning to move him. He stumbled back a bit, the stacks of towels on the shelves cushioning his back. "Get out of my way."

He finally stepped to the side.

You were twisting the door knob when he spoke, barely above a whisper and muffled by the sounds of the party. "I cannot, and I mean cannot - as hard as I try- stop thinking about you."

Your head was screaming at you to go. To run down the stairs, say goodbye to Chrissy and find Eddie to drive you home. Every part of you was telling you to go. The door was open a crack, you could hear the voices of people outside more clearly now.

"You're all I can think about," Steve continued.

'Move', you thought. 'Move, god damn it.'

You felt Steve behind you. You could feel the warmth of his skin brushing against yours, feather light in touch, as he stepped closer to you. When you didn't move away, not an inch - part of you electrified at the scene unfolding before you- Steve's arm came over yours, hand resting on top of your own. "Close the door," he said, lips against the shell of year as he spoke. You shivered as his breath tickled your skin. With deliberate slowness, his hand on yours closed the crack in the door, shrouding the space in the warm glow of the singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

It was as though your whole body was on fire. Every nerve in your body on full throttle, tingling with anticipation.

"I tried to stop," Steve began, "thinking about you, I mean." His voice was quiet, soft. Ridiculously alluring. "Tried going back to how it was before. Tried to hate you again." He looked down at this feet, as if the words he was so desperately trying to say would be written in the carpet. "But I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Us."

"Steve-"

"Then you show up here with Munson? Of all people, to what, rub it in my face a little? Make me feel worse?" He raised his voice a little, his sudden and overt jealousy making your stomach flip. "Felt like my chest was gonna explode, I was so pissed." He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. "Munson, of course." He muttered.

"There's nothing going on with Eddie, Steve."

"Oh, spare me," he said, "I saw you two together. The way he touched your shoulder? Earlier, by the pool?"

"Oh god, not my shoulder." You said, voice mocking.

"Come on, I see the way you guys watch each other." Steve argued, arm waving up in annoyance. "He looks at you like you're his girl!"

"And that bothers you because?"

Steve was silent after that, unable to speak the words he really wanted to without sounding like a jealous lunatic.

You took a step closer to him. His eyes met yours, frustrated and wide and even a little tormented. In a strange way, you liked it, that he was so beaten up over you. It made you feel a little better about being so haunted by the encounter, as well. Another part of you was revelling in the knowledge that Steve Harrington was hung up on you, after only one night. With a gentle hand, you grabbed Steve's wrist. "Steve," you said in a low voice, "there's nothing going on between Eddie and I. Okay?"

"How do I know that for sure?" he whispered, insecure.

You lifted his hand, eyes on his, and placed it on your shoulder. When you let go, his hand remained there. "Because," you said, " a shoulder means absolutely nothing."

Steve visibly relaxed, his shoulders became less hunched and he took a big sigh of relief. All the while, his hand remained on your shoulder.

You took another step toward Steve then, brain screaming at you to run, but the fire in your stomach telling you to stay, stay, stay. You leaned up on your tip toes, lips an inch away from his ear. "Besides," you said, "my shoulder is reserved just for you."

Steve sucked in a ragged, deep breath.

"You really shouldn't have said that." His voice was hoarse, gruff. It fanned the flames in your stomach to a blaze.

"And why's that?" you taunted, head cocked to the side as you looked up at Steve. A wicked, wolfish grin had stretched across his lips. He backed you into the wall, almost no space between you as his nose brushed against the shell of your ear. "Because," his lips grazed over your temple, "if you thought before was good," his hand grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. "We're just getting started."

It was as if a switch flipped inside him as Steve crashed his lips to yours. While he was passionate before, now he was animalistic. He was all teeth as he kissed you, nipping your bottom lip in a way that said 'this is something only I get to do', and it made you groan aloud. Your hands crept up to his hair, only for him to grip your wrists and pin them above your head.

"Uh uh," he said, teasing and with entirely too much enjoyment. "Those stay right there."

You panted, out of breath, staring into Steve's lust blown eyes. You were completely shocked by this side of him. It was, quite possibly, the hottest thing you'd ever witnessed. In the brief pause, the quiet catching of breath, Steve's face came closer to yours.

"Is this okay?" He said, concern on his face, realising he may have been too intense. His brows were knit together in a soft V shape. You nodded, slow and sure. You were perfectly content to have Steve do anything he wanted to you. "Yeah, it's okay." You whispered. The teasing smile crept back on to his face. "Alright then."

And then he was kissing your neck, most definitely leaving marks as he sucked and nipped the skin on the hollow of your throat. You bit your lip at the thought of having to hide them, of being marked by him, thankful for the approaching cold season and the invention of turtle necks. One hand on your wrists, Steve's free one crept up your sides and found purchase on your hips, gripping them tightly. "God," he groaned, "do you have any idea," - a particularly hard bite on your collar bone- "how much I've thought about you this week?" His grip on your waist was impossibly tighter in the moment, pulling your hips into his own. Your only response was a breathy moan as he bucked into you.

He loosened the grip he had on your wrists, allowing your arms to slide down the wall and into his hair - he fell apart at the way you touched him, having thought about it all week. "I thought about you," he dropped down to your chest, placing kisses there. "Every," - a kiss to your torso- "single"- one to your stomach- "night." He sank down to his knees, staring up at you with swollen lips and blown out eyes. "It's like I was haunted by you. Couldn't get you out of my head." He kissed his way back up to your lips, his fingers tugging on your bottom lip with a twisted smile. "Thought about you so much, had to throw out your panties."

"You pervert." You said against his mouth, but the thought of Steve, bent over in pleasure, as he jacked off into your panties made you throb.

His hands toyed with the strings on your bikini bottoms, the flimsy material begging to be ripped off. He raised an eyebrow at you - a silent ask- and you nodded hurriedly. He pulled the knot free at an agonizingly slow pace, taunting you as your chest heaved in anticipation. He was torturous. Devilish, even. You loved it. He ripped the other knot open off hastily, making you gasp. Your lower half was completely exposed. "Do you want me?" he asked, and though his voice was hoarse and undeniably confident, his eyes wavered as he looked into your own with the slightest hint of uncertainty. You nodded, breathless and a little desperate. Steve tilted your head with his hand, thumb resting on the column of your throat, mocking smile on his lips. "I'm not touching you 'til you say it."

"Yes, God yes, I want you Steve."

"How much?" He was getting cocky then, and as much as it irritated you, it turned you on immensely. "Tell me how much."

"I thought about you, too," you said, breath hitching as he trailed a finger up and down your leg. "Couldn't help myself." That same wicked smile was on Steve's face as you spoke. "Couldn't get the feeling right again, tried so hard."

"Show me."

When your eyes darted to his, you could hardly see his irises. His eyes were practically black with lust, mouth agape as he took you in. When you didn't move, half embarrassed and half in disbelief, he guided your hand to your centre. "Show me how you touched yourself," he pushed your hand down, thumb swiping your clit. You gasped, desperate for any friction as the ache in your stomach flared. "He placed a kiss right under your belly button, eyes boring into yours. "Show me."

You felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck and on to your cheeks, thankful for the dim light. You sank you hand down, closing your eyes to save some semblance of your dignity. Steve Had other ideas. "Uh, uh, uh," he said, taunting. "Eyes on me."

You opened your eyes to see a completely, utterly hypnotised Steve. Every twitch, every half-movement was caught by his eager eyes. Knowing that you had so much power over him gave you a power trip, a major boost of confidence. The sight before you - a wild haired, wide eyed, practically drooling Steve Harrington- drove you crazy.

You dropped your hand down your stomach, fingers tracing the skin as they got ever closer to where you needed them most. You thought back to the nights after the party, the way you'd arched your back off your mattress pretending it was Steve's fingers getting you there, that it was Steve making your legs tremble.

You grazed your clit with your index finger, sighing as you made small circles there. You moaned, your pace picking up as you grew more impatient that Steve wasn't the one touching you and more embarrassed as time went on. You rested your head against the wall, gazing at Steve across the small space. He was shifting the front of his swim trunks around, growing impossibly more aroused every second he looked at you. Your chest began to tighten with short breaths as your hand grew quicker, the band in your stomach on the brink of snapping. You were sent over the edge at the sight of Steve palming himself, mouth in a silent 'O' shape as he watched you fall apart. The small closet felt like a sauna as you caught your breath.

"Jesus Christ," Steve said, a hoarse whisper as though his throat was bone dry - which it was. He'd never seen anything so hot in his life. "Get over here."

You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck as his own caught your waist. Your lips met in a brawl of need, smothering yourselves in one another. Steve gripped your face with a strong hand, guiding your chin so that his tongue could slip into your mouth with ease. He backed you against the wall, hands roaming all over your skin. You may as well have been on another planet, the raging party below having no influence on either one you letting out loud moans and groans. You felt on fire, sure that if you opened your eyes and looked down your body would be a scorched mess. Your core ached, desperate for any friction as Steve's clothed front rubbed against your centre.

"Steve," you whined against his lips, loud and high pitched. He was pressing into you now, and you felt you were going to go crazy if you weren't thrown on a bed in that very second. "Let's go somewhere else." When he pulled away to look at you, he quirked a brow cheekily.

"Aye aye, Captain."

Stuffing your bottoms in his pocket, Steve cracked the door ajar and peaked out. The coast was clear. He threw you - naked from the chest down- over his shoulder, and ran to the bedroom closest to the closet. It was his own, thank god. The door closed with a slam, and then you were against it, head cushioned by the coats and towels hanging from the hook.

"If you don't do something in the next thirty seconds," you said, voice desperate as Steve kissed your neck whilst his hands trailed up and down your bare back - fingers fiddling with the draw string of your bikini-, "I'm outta here, Harrington."

"Oh yeah," Steve challenged smugly, "to do what?"

You felt like pushing his buttons, testing him. His dominance displayed in the closet made you unbelievably wet, and you were hoping it was going to reappear. "Well," you began, voice full of mock innocence, "not what, rather who." Steve's arm tensed up around your body. His head whipped toward you, eyes darkening with lust and annoyance. "Who knows, maybe Eddie can help me out-"

You didn't even have to finish your sentence before Steve was scooping you up in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around your middle as you both crashed on to the mattress. He was hovering above you with the most addictive expression on his face - a look that said "I need you, I crave you,"- and you wished that every time you closed your eyes you would see that look. Steve ripped off his shorts in a flash, stroking himself as he leaned down to you.

"You think it's funny, huh? To tease?" he said, voice wracked with desire as he watched you. You'd begun to slowly peel off your bikini top. He pulled the strap back and let it snap against your skin, grinning when you yelped. "You're in for it, babe."

The nickname had your stomach swirling with arousal, and you were sure you were leaking on to Steve's sheets from how turned on you were. He made his way between you, knee up against your clit as he ground in to you. When you bit your lip, he smiled. He sat up on his knees, stroking himself as he looked down at you. A rosy glow had donned your cheeks, both from the heat of the room and the heat of having a very attractive man tease himself in front of you. A sheen had begun to cling to your hair line. You looked entirely wrecked, and Steve had hardly touched you. His stomach flipped at the sight. He pushed your legs apart with his knee, pressing the head of his cock through your folds , delighting in the whiny pleas you let out.

"Say something for me," Steve asked, hissing as his head brushed your clit as he bucked into you.

"Anything, god, please, Steve." You would recite a whole Shakespeare play in that moment if it meant that he would fuck you. "Anything."

"Say you forgive me."

You suddenly weren't miles away. You were now hyper aware that you were in Steve's bed, in Steve's house, with Steve. Steve, who had ruined your life for so many years. Steve, who had stood by people and watched as they hurt you. Steve, who had taken your best friend from you. Steve, who had bared a piece of himself to you. Steve, who had wanted you. Steve, who had shown you who he really was. Steve, who you also desperately wanted, despite your complicated feelings about the past you both shared. The room was silent for a nano-second, before you grabbed his face in your hands.

"I forgive you."

In the midst of a very heated moment, Steve leaned down and pressed a very gentle kiss to your lips. "Thank you" he said.

Then he pushed into you, all the way, without warning and your choked moans filled the room. The stretch, while slightly painful, was glorious. Steve filled you up entirely, and you felt as though you were being split open while simultaneously feeling whole. With both hands beside you head as he hovered over you, Steve panted ragged breaths. "Oh my god, you feel amazing," he groaned. His face contorted in pleasure as you clenched around him. "God, can I move? Please, baby, can I?"

"Yes, god, move." Was all you could stutter out before Steve was rocking into you , pace wild and hard. The head board of his bed clanged against the wall, and you were thankful for the thrum of music outside. You held back screams as Steve hit that spot inside you with every single thrust.

Your legs felt like jelly as Steve grabbed your thighs, pulling himself into you with vigour. "Fuck," he moaned, unapologetically loud and undeniably hot, "fuck, I'm not gonna last long." You hands were gripping the sheets, hardly aware that he was talking as his stomach grazed your clit with every movement.

"Let me on top then," you said, and Steve wasn't a religious man, but he swore that was the moment he died and went to heaven. Steve flipped the two of you over, his back against the head board with your chest in his face. 'Heaven,' he thought as you swung your legs over his and grabbed him in your hands, sinking down on until he was all the way inside of you. "Oh my god." You said breathlessly, the feeling entirely different and absolutely better than before.

You used Steve's shoulder for leverage as you moved up and down on him, whining out high pitched moans as he thrusted up to meet you, gripping your hips tightly. You felt the coil building in your stomach. You looked down at Steve, his eyes drawn to where your bodies connected. "That's the hottest thing I've ever fucking seen," he said, eyes dilated and face red. He was right, it was unusually hypnotic to watch as your aching centre swallowed Steve's cock with every movement.

Steve's brows were knit together, determined to last but the reality that the two of you were going to come undone was fast approaching. "I wanna fill you up, wanna see my cum drip out of you. Can I cum inside you, baby?" he panted into your hair, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your torso as he sat up, thrusting even harder up into you.

"Yes, yes yes, please Steve," you cried as his fingers crept down and began fast, tight circles on your clit. "Cum inside me, fill me up, god, please please please."

Steve let go the second you did, one final - particularly deep- thrust sending you over the edge and into Steve's chest. You felt as hot ropes of his cum shot deep into you, felt as it began to drip out o you and down your thighs. You panted into Steve's ear, chest heaving as you both came down from your highs. His hand, still between your legs, swiped up your centre, gathering the mixture of your arousals. He ran the same finger across your lips. "Open, " he said, grinning wickedly as you sucked his finger clean. "Dirty, dirty girl."

You hopped off of Steve, legs numb as you collapsed next to him on the bed. You didn't bother to cover up, the two of you no longer shy. There was a brief pause, and you felt like the prickly stickiness of sweat- and other things- on your skin. You mustered the strength to stand, stretching as you did, and made you way to the bathroom connected to Steve's. When Steve remained in bed, you turned over your shoulder as you stood in the door way. "You coming?"

Steve moved faster than you'd ever seen, practically tripping over himself, to meet you in the bathroom. Gazing at the shower, you opted to run the taps of the bath instead. The room quickly filled with steam, the mirrors fogging up. Once the tub was full, you hopped in and sat down, sighing as the warm water covered your sore legs. Steve sank down behind you, legs coming to rest beside your own, and you didn't move when his arms wrapped round your waist. Instead, you leaned back and rested your head on his shoulder.

Steve's hands ran soap up and down your arms gently, rinsing and repeating with mindless softness. he just wanted the excuse to hold you longer, feel you against him more. When his hand came down your arm again, you caught it. You fiddled with his fingers, a shyness washing over you slightly. Steve just intertwined your hands, and continued to rinse the soap off of your skin.

"What is this now?"

Steve's question hung in the warm air like the steam clung to the mirror glass. It was like you could see it in front of you, floating in a taunting cloud. It was the thing neither one of you wanted to ask, perfectly content to stay in the bath and ignore every nagging though that urged both of you to ask the other 'do you want me outside of these walls?'

You sucked in a deep breath, turning to look at Steve from where your head rested on his shoulder. "I don't know." You admitted. You didn't want to say the wrong thing and ruin the moment. "We can talk about that, though."

Steve smiled gently, resting his head on top of yours. "What do you want it to be?" He asked softly, your hand still in his.

"Is this your very long winded way of asking to be fuck buddies?"

"No," Steve chuckled to himself, "no, it's not." He sat up slightly, facing you more. "I'm saying that," he paused, struggling for the right words. "I know how I felt when I thought you and Munson were, whatever I thought you were." He said, eyes soft as he looked at you. "I know how much I missed you being round after you left."

You dropped your gaze , ashamed of your behaviour. Steve's hand moved your chin to meet his eye again, smiling that stupidly attractive smile. "I know I want you."

"I want you too, Steve." You said, almost sadly.

"Then we have something in common," he smiled again, and you rolled your eyes at him. "We can start there, and see where we go."

You didn't talk about what people might say, how you'd probably have to hide in his room or yours, secluding yourselves in VHS tapes in living rooms and candle lit dinners in kitchens. You didn't talk about how hard it would be, to keep the secret, to not talk about one another for a while. You didn't mind though. The two of you enjoyed the idea of the coming winter, the cover of darkness that meant you could walk to one another. The image of you huddled in one of Steve's sweaters as the first snow fell flashed through Steve's mind, and he felt his heart thud in his chest as he looked at you.

Warmth spread through your chest as you imagined Steve beside you on the tiny couch in your living room, fighting over the last slice of pizza as the credits rolled on a cheesy movie he'd rented. You revelled in the thought of getting to know Steve, not the King of Hawkins High, just Steve. And the thought of him knowing you as you were now, the matured and hardened version of you, made you stomach do flips as you looked at him.

"We'll see where we go." You agreed.

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

PEOPLE THAT ASKED TO BE TAGGED:

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#steve harrington #steve harrington smut' #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #stranger things au #stranger things 4 #enemies to lovers #bully romance #slowburn #fluff #smut #fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrigton fanfic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve x nancy #chrissy cunningham #this is so dirty #joseph quinn #joe keery #eddie munson fics #call it what you want

[angrygonk]

HERRIKAN FORGEWORLD

Many artifacts from the Dark Age of Technology lie in the golden sands of Herrika. Across the unending deserts of this planet are scattered multiple husks of a bygone era, sprawling networks of corridors and pipes, rotting from the inside, as they are infested by creatures discovered to be descendents of a preexisting human civilisation, now turned cannibalistic abominations, adapted to live in the long forgotten bunkers. The greatest gifts may lie in the steel veins of the planet, but mere inches beneath the scorching sand, buried there by the winds, unending deposits of archeotech just wait to be dug up by the followers of the Omnissiah. Many expeditions attempted to cleanse and reclaim the network beneath the surface, but none were successful so far. As such the main task of the Herrican techpriests is currently sifting through the sand, using fleets of tracked machines equipped with nets burying themselves in the sand, in search of forgotten technology. 

Herrikan history is one of adaptation and survival. The forgeworld started as a simple expedition by a group of 17 radical techpriests from a range of different forge worlds. Everything seemed fine, until they lost contact with the rest of expedition fleet in orbit, as they have been ordered by the administratum to leave everything in order to serve as a force multiplier in a nearby rebellion over the tithe of a hive city. The 17 founders, now left stranded on this desert wasteland decided that the only way they can survive is to prove their worth to the Omnissiah by venturing into the depths of the planet, reclaiming what has been lost over the ages. They found more than they could ever hope for, machines of war and peace, technology of the Dark Age, and an artifact that became the reason for a schism within the 17. 6 of them wanted to use their discovery to establish their own empire, create the new civilisation of the Followers of machine, while the rest came to a conclusion that such a drastic action would just mark the end of their stories, dooming them to be executed as hereteks. Tensions were high but with not enough people or resources for a civil war the thirst of blood eventually ended with the official declaration of creation of the Herrikan forgeworld, led by 17 arch-scavengers, each carrying their vows of steel wrapped on their right hands.

Now, 4 thousand years after the first artifact has been discovered on Herrika, it has grown to be a small, but influential forge world, trading in unique archeotech, establishing multiple client forgeworlds like the radicals of Titanis Arx or the voidfaring Nefirran Fleet and solidifying itself as one of the biggest sources of archeotech in segmentum tempestus.

If anyone has any more questions about the lore and stuff feel free to ask, also if anyone wants to use this forgeworld in any art, story, minis or anything feel free, just tag me.

#warhammer 40k #adeptus mechanicus #admech #oc art #warhammer #warhammer art #skitarii #forge world #gonk's forge world collection #herrika #oc forgeworld

[simpforfandom231]

Pregnancy PT 2

Regina and Y/N got Twins. It's four years later.

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

Four years had flown by since the arrival of Jake and Leighton, and Y/N and Regina found themselves basking in the warmth of a summer day. The twins, now lively toddlers, splashed happily in the pool with their beloved chihuahua, Sprinkle, while Regina bustled about the kitchen, preparing snacks for their guests.

As Y/N watched the twins frolic in the water, a mischievous thought crossed her mind. "Hey, Regina, what do you say we invite the gang over for a pool day?"

Regina glanced up from her task, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "That sounds like a great idea, Y/N. It's been too long since we've all hung out together."

With Regina's approval, Y/N wasted no time in sending out the invitations. Cady and her boyfriend Colton, along with their daughter Rachel, Damian and his boyfriend Tristan, Janis and her girlfriend Kara with their two kids Evan and Layla, Karen and her boyfriend Jordan, and Gretchen and her boyfriend Samm were all invited to join in the fun.

As their friends arrived, laughter and chatter filled the air. The backyard echoed with the sounds of children's laughter and playful splashing as the adults settled in around the pool, catching up and enjoying each other's company.

Regina emerged from the kitchen, a tray of snacks in hand, her smile radiant as she greeted their guests. "Welcome, everyone! Help yourselves to some snacks and drinks. Let's make this a day to remember."

Y/N grinned as she watched Regina effortlessly navigate the social scene, her natural charisma drawing everyone in. Taking advantage of the distraction, Y/N slipped into the pool, joining the twins in their playful antics.

As the warm summer sun beat down on the backyard, the pool area was a hive of activity. Regina, Karen, and Gretchen lounged on pool chairs, soaking up the sun's rays and indulging in some well-deserved relaxation. Nearby, Y/N, Cady, Janis, and Damian played with the kids in the pool, their laughter mingling with the splashes of water.

Tristan, Colton, Jordan, and Samm found refuge from the heat in the hot tub, their voices drifting lazily in the air as they enjoyed the soothing warmth of the bubbling water.

Y/N leaned in close to Damian, Janis, and Cady, a mischievous glint in her eye as she whispered to them. "Doesn't it feel like the Plastics are back?" she said, nodding discreetly toward Regina, Karen, and Gretchen.

Damian snickered, glancing over at the trio lounging on the pool chairs. "You might be onto something there, Y/N. They've got that classic Plastics vibe going on."

Janis smirked, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Looks like old habits die hard. Regina, Karen, and Gretchen were always the queens of gossiping by the pool."

Cady chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "Well, as long as they're having fun, I guess it's all good. Just reminds me of the good old high school days."

Meanwhile, in the hot tub, Tristan raised his eyebrows as he overheard the conversation. "Did someone mention the Plastics?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Colton nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Seems like Regina, Karen, and Gretchen are channeling their inner mean girls again."

Jordan laughed, taking a sip of his drink. "Ah, high school drama. Some things never change."

Samm grinned, leaning back against the edge of the hot tub. "Well, as long as they're not causing any trouble, I say let them have their fun."

Back in the pool, Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Regina, Karen, and Gretchen, their heads close together as they whispered and giggled like they were back in their high school days.

As Y/N lounged by the pool, her gaze occasionally drifting to her wife Regina's sun-kissed body, Regina couldn't help but catch her staring. With a smirk playing on her lips, Regina adopted her trademark mean girl attitude, arching an eyebrow at Y/N.

"What's the matter, Y/N? Like what you see?" Regina teased, her tone laced with playful mockery.

Y/N chuckled, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Oh, you know me, Regina. I can't resist admiring your fabulousness."

Regina rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Y/N. But I'll allow it just this once."

Meanwhile, Layla and Evan, Janis and Kara's kids, engaged in a lighthearted battle of words, their banter filled with playful jabs and exaggerated boasts. Rachel and Karen's daughter, Rachel, joined in the fray, her competitive spirit matching that of her peers.

Gretchen, always one to seize the moment, decided to join in the fun, launching herself into the pool with a splash that elicited laughter from the entire group.

As the kids frolicked in the water, Damian struck up a conversation with Karen, their laughter mingling with the sounds of splashing and playful chatter.

Y/N, seizing the opportunity for some relaxation, settled into the pool chair next to Regina, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin as she watched the scene unfold.

As Leighton gleefully jumped into the water near her brother Jake, the playful atmosphere took a sudden turn as the twins found themselves entangled in a heated squabble. Leighton's laughter quickly turned into teasing as she mocked her brother, her playful taunts only fueling Jake's frustration.

"My hair is ruined!" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with indignation as he pointed accusingly at his twin sister.

Leighton couldn't help but giggle at her brother's distress, her mischievous grin widening as she continued to poke fun at him.

Regina, ever the vigilant mom, swiftly intervened, her mean girl attitude shining through even in moments of maternal discipline. "Alright, you two, that's enough," she declared, her tone firm as she addressed her feuding offspring. "We don't need any more drama in this pool. Behave yourselves."

Y/N couldn't suppress her laughter at Regina's stern warning, finding amusement in her wife's mean girl mom persona. "Looks like Jake inherited a few of your mean girl traits, Regina," she teased, nudging Regina playfully.

Regina shot Y/N a mock glare, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Hey, don't blame me for that," she retorted, her lips curling into a smirk. "He's definitely got his own attitude."

As the twins continued to bicker, Y/N couldn't help but find humor in the situation. "Well, at least they're keeping things interesting," she remarked, her laughter ringing out across the poolside.

Leighton couldn't contain her amusement as she continued to taunt her brother, her teasing only escalating the tension between them.

Regina, always quick to intervene, stepped in with a stern warning. "Alright, you two, knock it off," she commanded, her tone dripping with authority. "I won't tolerate this kind of behavior."

Y/N couldn't help but stifle a giggle at Regina's mean girl mom attitude, finding amusement in her wife's ability to handle their children with a firm hand.

"Looks like Jake inherited a few of your mean girl traits, Regina," Y/N teased, nudging Regina playfully.

Regina shot Y/N a playful glare, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Don't give him any ideas," she quipped, a hint of amusement in her tone.

But as the twins' argument persisted, Regina's patience began to wear thin. "I mean it, you two," she warned, her voice stern as she addressed Jake and Leighton. "Stop this nonsense right now, or there will be consequences."

Jake, never one to back down, responded defiantly. "You can't tell me what to do," he retorted, his tone laced with defiance.

Y/N's expression turned serious as she warned Jake, "Watch your tone, young man. You don't talk to your mother like that."

But Jake, fueled by frustration, lashed out with hurtful words. Y/N winced, knowing that Regina's explosive reaction was imminent.

"Ooohhh," Y/N whispered under her breath, bracing herself for Regina's inevitable eruption.

True to form, Regina exploded in her signature fashion, using Jake's full name as she delivered one final warning. "Jacob Alexander George, that's enough!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing out across the pool. "One more word out of you, and you're grounded for a month. Do you understand me?"

Jake rolled his eyes, his defiance showing no signs of abating. But Regina's unwavering gaze left no room for negotiation.

Y/N knew that Regina was truly furious when she used their son's full name.

As Jake stormed off inside, clearly annoyed and angry, Regina let out a heavy sigh, watching him go with a concerned expression on her face. "Just let him cool off for a bit," she said to the group, her voice tinged with worry. "I'll go talk to him later."

Y/N nodded in understanding, placing a reassuring hand on Regina's shoulder. "He'll be okay, Gina. Sometimes he just needs a moment to himself," she offered, her voice gentle and comforting.

Meanwhile, Janis approached Y/N, her expression sympathetic. "Rough day with the twins?" she asked, her tone filled with understanding.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Tell me about it," she replied, shaking her head. "Sometimes I feel like we're raising a pair of miniature Regina Georges."

Janis chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Well, they do say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

With a shared laugh, Y/N and Janis rejoined the group in the pool, determined to shake off the tension and enjoy the rest of the day.

As the afternoon wore on, laughter and playful splashing filled the air once more as everyone got back to having fun. Regina couldn't help but steal glances towards the house, still worried about Jake's mood.

Y/N found Jake sitting on the sofa, a deep pout etched on his face. She approached him with a concerned expression, taking a seat beside him.

"Hey, buddy," Y/N began gently, placing a hand on Jake's shoulder. "You okay?"

Jake shrugged, his expression sullen. "I guess," he muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Y/N sighed softly, knowing that her son needed some guidance. "Jake, you know you can't talk to your mom like that," she said firmly, her tone gentle but firm.

Jake looked up, meeting Y/N's gaze with a mix of frustration and guilt. "I know," he admitted reluctantly. "But she's always so strict, and I just...I don't know."

Y/N nodded in understanding, wrapping an arm around Jake's shoulders. "I get it, buddy. But you have to remember, she's just looking out for you," she explained gently. "She loves you more than anything, and sometimes she has to be tough to make sure you're safe and happy."

Jake sighed, nodding in reluctant agreement. "I guess," he muttered, still feeling upset but starting to understand where Y/N was coming from.

Y/N gave Jake a reassuring smile. "Listen, why don't you go talk to your mom and apologize? I know it's hard, but I promise it'll make things better," she suggested, giving him a gentle nudge.

Jake hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," he agreed, his voice soft.

Y/N gave Jake a proud smile, giving him a quick hug before he headed off to find Regina.

Regina spotted Jake running back towards the pool, his little feet pattering on the ground as he searched for her. Despite her lingering frustration, Regina's heart softened at the sight of her son's earnest attempt to make amends.

She watched as Jake approached her, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. "Mom?" he called out tentatively, his voice wavering slightly.

Regina turned to face him, her demeanor still somewhat guarded. "What is it, Jake?" she asked, her tone brusque.

Jake fidgeted nervously, his tiny hands clasped together in front of him. "I...I wanted to say sorry," he said hesitantly, his eyes downcast.

Regina's heart melted at Jake's apology, her anger dissipating as she realized how brave he was to come and apologize. "Oh, Jake," she sighed, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. "I appreciate that, sweetheart."

Jake's face lit up at Regina's response, relief flooding through him. "I didn't mean to upset you, Mom," he said earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity.

Regina pulled Jake into a warm embrace, holding him close. "I know, honey. And I'm sorry too," she admitted, her voice soft with emotion. "I just want what's best for you, and sometimes I can be a little...strict."

Jake nodded understandingly, squeezing Regina tightly. "I know, Mom," he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

Regina smiled, brushing a gentle kiss on the top of Jake's head. "Thank you for apologizing, sweetheart. I love you," she whispered, her voice filled with love and warmth.

Jake beamed up at Regina, his eyes shining with affection. "I love you too, Mom," he replied, his smile wide and genuine.

Y/N settled herself next to Regina on the poolside, enjoying the warm sunshine. She watched with a smile as Jake rejoined the group, his laughter echoing as he splashed around in the pool.

Regina let out a small sigh, her gaze following Jake's movements. "That boy is going to be the death of us when he's a teenager," she remarked, her tone half-joking, half-serious.

Y/N chuckled, nudging Regina playfully. "Oh, come on, Regina. He's just like his mama," she teased, flashing Regina a mischievous grin.

Regina raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "What do you mean?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Y/N laughed, leaning closer to Regina. "Let's face it, babe. He's got your attitude," she said, her voice filled with amusement.

Regina scoffed, shaking her head in denial. "No way. Jake is nothing like me," she insisted, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Y/N grinned, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "Really? Remember high school, Regina? You were the queen bee with that mean girl attitude," she teased, nudging Regina playfully.

Regina rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of fondness in her expression. "Okay, fine. Maybe he has a little bit of my sass," she admitted, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Y/N grinned triumphantly, poking Regina's side gently. "See? I knew it," she said teasingly, enjoying Regina's playful exasperation.

Regina chuckled, shaking her head in mock annoyance. "You're impossible, you know that?" she said with a playful glint in her eye.

Y/N grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to Regina's cheek. "But you love me anyway," she replied cheekily, earning a laugh from Regina.

As the day wound down and the guests departed, it was bedtime for the twins. Leighton, ever the obedient one, dutifully followed Y/N's instructions and headed off to prepare for bed. However, Jake seemed to have other ideas.

"Jake, it's time for bed," Regina called out, her voice firm but patient.

Jake crossed his arms defiantly, his expression sour. "I don't want to," he muttered rebelliously.

Regina's patience wore thin as she warned Jake for the umpteenth time. "Jake, I'm not going to say it again. Bedtime," she insisted, her tone tinged with frustration.

Y/N stepped in, trying to reason with her son. "Jake, do you remember what happened at the pool today? You know better than to talk back to your mom," she reminded him gently.

Jake huffed, rolling his eyes at Y/N's words. "Whatever. It's not fair," he grumbled under his breath.

Regina's patience snapped, her demeanor shifting into full Regina George mode. "Excuse me? I will not tolerate that kind of attitude," she declared, her voice sharp with authority.

But Jake was stubborn, refusing to back down. "You're not the boss of me," he shot back, his tone defiant.

Regina's eyes narrowed dangerously as she felt her temper flare. "That's it, young man. You've crossed the line," she warned, her voice rising in anger.

Jake, however, was undeterred, his frustration boiling over. "I hate you!" he screamed, his words like a knife to Regina's heart.

Regina's expression hardened, hurt flashing in her eyes as she recoiled from Jake's hurtful words. "How dare you speak to me like that," she snapped, her voice trembling with emotion.

Y/N, witnessing the escalating confrontation, felt her own anger ignite. "Enough!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing out in the room. "You do not talk to your mother like that, Jake. Apologize. Now."

But Jake, consumed by his own stubbornness, refused to back down, his anger clouding his judgment. And as tensions reached a boiling point, the once peaceful atmosphere shattered, leaving behind a storm of hurt feelings and regret.

The tension in the room was thick as Regina and Jake stood locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down. Regina's patience had worn thin, her frustration bubbling to the surface as she struggled to maintain control.

"I'm warning you, Jake. You're pushing it," Regina said through gritted teeth, her tone laced with a mix of anger and exasperation.

But Jake remained defiant, his stance unwavering as he continued to mock his mother. "What are you gonna do, Mom? Ground me? Take away my toys?" he taunted, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N, unable to contain her own anger any longer, stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. "That's enough, Jake! You do not speak to your mother like that," she scolded, her eyes flashing with frustration.

Regina shot Jake a withering glare, her patience wearing thin. "You may be only four years old now, but I won't survive your puberty if you keep this up," she muttered under her breath, her tone tinged with exasperation.

Jake's defiance only seemed to grow, his stubbornness fueling his determination to stand his ground. "You're not the boss of me!" he declared, his voice defiant and full of rebellion.

Regina let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she struggled to maintain her composure. "This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with resignation.

Y/N stepped in, her voice firm as she addressed Jake. "You need to apologize to your mother right now, young man. This behavior is unacceptable," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Regina shot Jake a warning look, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and disappointment. "You heard your mother. Apologize," she demanded, her voice firm and commanding.

Jake's half-hearted apology did little to ease the tension in the room. Y/N let out a heavy sigh, her frustration evident as she watched Jake retreat to his bed.

Regina's hurt was palpable as she stood there, her emotions simmering just beneath the surface. Y/N moved closer, reaching out a hand to gently touch Regina's arm, a silent gesture of comfort and support.

But Regina's emotions were too raw, too close to the surface to be soothed. With a frustrated sigh, she shook off Y/N's touch, her anger boiling over as she struggled to contain her emotions.

"I won't survive his puberty if he's like this at four," Regina muttered bitterly, her words laced with frustration and resignation.

Y/N felt her heart ache for Regina, knowing all too well the weight of her words. "Regina, it's not your fault," she reassured her, her voice soft and comforting.

But Regina couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at her, the knowledge that Jake had inherited her own attitude weighing heavily on her conscience. "I hate that I know it's my attitude he inherited," she admitted, her voice filled with self-loathing.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Regina, pulling her close in a tight embrace. "Regina, you're a wonderful mother. You can't blame yourself for everything," she whispered, her words a gentle reminder of Regina's worth.

Regina leaned into Y/N's embrace, finding solace in her arms. And as they stood there, enveloped in each other's warmth, Regina couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos, knowing that with Y/N by her side, they could weather any storm together.

#fandom #fanfic #reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #reneé rapp x fem!reader #renee rapp x fem!reader #regina george x reader #regina george x fem!reader #regina george fanfic #regina george #mean girls 2024 #mean girls

[magistralucis]

Appreciation post for Sannet the Light-Sculptor, Arch-Cryptek of Solemnace... the hard-light architect of the Prismatic Galleries, and the one responsible for its maintenance, with or without Trazyn's presence. An old man at once sososososososo tired of his overlord's shit, yet fully dedicated to Trazyn's work, and the first to greet him back to his silent planet. Not always the most dignified, yet diligent, even where loose hive tyrants and drukhari torture implements are concerned. One of the only crypteks mentioned to have changed his profession entirely, and is just as lauded in this life as he was in his old one, despite having to work at a physical disadvantage. A cryptek serving under one of only 2-3 necrons known to understand the concept of disability accommodation... a scribe, in his own way, like his master used to be before biotransference. Loyal and respectful, but unafraid to bicker with Trazyn or call him out on his assumptions, and respected by Trazyn in return. The only necron so far canonically deemed the 'companion of Trazyn'. In this house we love Sannet, eight-fingered hands and all 🐙💖

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #sannet #trazyn the infinite #the infinite and the divine #fall of cadia #war in the museum #necrons #necron #i have Feelings for him. he and trazyn have such a jeeves & wooster energy going on

[the-arch-hive]

Want to join the Refill Lake Bonneville protest (9 am on Saturday, August 12 at Black Rock near the Great Saltair) but not sure what exactly Lake Bonneville is? Never fear, we've explained it all here!

#utah #lake bonneville #salt lake city #tumblrstake #the arch-hive

[stoneandleadart]

Desolate

#art #digital art #archtober2023 #the arch hive #that pioneer life though

[thebottomfromhell]

can you do the hantengu clones x reader who is short but can also pick them up like lightweight

Of course!

Short GN who can pick the Hantengu clones easily

Warnings: Implied sexual content (Karaku throwing innuendos) and Threats to reader (Sekido).

Sekido:

Sekido doesn't really care that you are short, if he calls you a "little shit" it's not because of your size but because of your attitude. Going around, not listening to him, it makes him angry, even worse if you answer with a "I am not little!" Then he will grab i to anything to continue arguing. "You can say that the second you don't have to look up to see my eyes instead of eyeing my chest!" But it's not hat he comments of it or bullies you, it's just for the sake of fighting and take his anger out on something.

Most of the time he respects you, even if he never helps when you struggle with something, he protects your pride and expects you to do the same for him... you didn't get that far. Still, it's common for you both to have arguments. "Really, how can you be so weak and useless?! Can't you do one thing I tell you? I'm just asking for you to not cause trouble!" He scolds you after forcefully pulling you out the battlefield as the rest of the clones do all the work.

He was about to continue but he gets interrupted by the sound of a strong impact and some trees falling, he looks back to the origin of the sound, wondering if a Hashira arrived. More reason to get you out. "We must leave. Now!" He was about to grab you but you took his waist to set him over your shoulder, if you are doing this then you at least get to have some control of it. "What are you doing?! PUT ME DOWN!" You don't listen and run, hearing that he is embarrased.

He doesn't weight that much to you, you could feel Karaku is lighter when he leans into you but he is not half as heavy as Urogi. "I said PUT ME DOWN YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Just for the laughs you give him a little spank to shit him up as you keep running. After some minutes of silence as Sekido processes the anger he feels, you hear a whisper. "If you don't put me down right now I will take out your fingers one by one and feed them to Urogi." ... you left him down, recieving a punch when you did.

Karaku:

"Awww~ having troubles reaching the bookshell? Do you need my help in that, "little one"? Hahahaha!" Of course, Karaku makes fun of your height whenever it becomes clear you struggle with it. You look up to him angrily, this only making him laugh a bit more. He really likes to tease, so he goes and lean into you, using hour head as arm support, not putting all his weight. "Ask nicely and I will help you."

You only arch your eyebrow looking at his cheeky grin, so you move as you kick his leg to make him trip and fall. "Not so cocky now, are we? You look better from above." You tease Karaku as he groans against the floor. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, babe. Be nice and help me to stand, will ya?" He hives his hand for you to help him, smiling playfully. He probably plans to pull you into the floor with him, knowing how he can get. Instead, you grab his arm and legs to pull him easily into bridal style.

Karaku giggles a bit as he shifts to put your arms behind your neck. "Oh, my! You are pretty strong, are you not?" You chuckle at that, Karaku is pretty light himself, you know by sure he weights the least of the cones besides Zohakuten. "Nah. You are just too light, maybe you should eat more." He chuckles as he moves his mouth into your ear. "You mean you could fold me and dominate the shit out of me? Want to try out~?" You are slightly tempted to let him fall, but you only grab him tighter.

"Quit being a tease." He only chuckles more before shifting his weight again. "Make me~." Oh, you will make him... you threw him into the floor. "Ouch! Ok, ok, I quit!" You chuckle, maybe you will see into his offer later as you actually help him stand up this time. "See? It wasn't so hard."

Urogi:

"So cute! So cute! Y/N is so small!" Urogi likes to tease you... whenever he feels like it. Honestly, sometimes he just forgets that you are short, since you are just you to him most of the time, then he remembers and laughs about it from nowhere. But you always know what he is talking about. Urogi sonetimes also just comments on it, since he thinks it makes you cute. "You are like a little animal, like a little, fluffy and meaty rabbit!" It gets uncomfortable but it's not ill intentioned.

Urogi also likes to, literally, step and sit on you, after flying sometimes he will land in your back and shoulders, sometimes he just jumps over your arms and expects you to catch and carry him. He is the clone that weights the more, having two extra giant limbs does that, which also makes it hard to balance him for you both to not fall when he lands in you. Besides that... you can with him.

The funniest part is that Urogi doesn't seem to realize whe weights the amount he does, at least he doesn't realize he weighes more than Aizetsu, who also can hold him, but Sekido and Karaku can't, they fall instantly when they "try", as Urogi also just steps on them as well. "Hey, Urogi! Everything good?" You ask him as he kneels over your arm and the other shoulder, digging his talons a bit for support. It hurts a bit, but nothing more than a sting.

"Yup! I'm just comfy here. Can you hold me here? It's nice to be close to the ground but still in heights." You can, easily.... but you decide not to this time. "Sorry, got things to do." .... He whines until you give in... damned bird.

Aizetsu:

Aizetsu barely comments on your height, not really caring about it unless when feeling pity you need help or support reaching certain things because of it. He is still more than willing to grab you and raise you if you need help, feeling it would be a bit embarrasing for you if he hands you the object you are trying to get. He has the strongest set of arms of the clones, being the one that weighs the second most.

"Thanks for the help Aizetsu, but you don't need to do this every time..." Truth be told, being raised in the air as if you were a child is also a bit embarrasing, but Aizetsu doesn't get that part. "It's ok, I don't mind." That is why you decided to start also grabbing him and carrying him around, the first time he stopped processing, confused and not knowing what to say. Then, he started to just accept his fate as you started carrying him around as if his was a lap dog or a cat.

"You are very strong to be able to pick me up like this, I don't weight little." He comments one day, not even fighting it as you suddenly grabbed him ond put him over your shoulder for it to be more comfortable. "My height doesn't show my strengh, does it?" You say as you walk him somewhere else, not really having a reason to do so, just wanting to pick him up like he does to you. "No, it doesn't." He tends to spend most of the time looking at the floor, being that his way to tell you he wants to be put down.

Still, he doesn't complain and wait for you to do so, not even attempting to get out of your hold, even letting you cuddle him like this. "You are very cute Aizetsu." He only blushes looking anywhere but you. "Just put me down, please." You will see when you feel like it.

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #karaku #urogi #aizetsu #sekido

[srarlight]

Finally got to show off Gourami's glamor form recently! She's the cursed Arch Fae steering the show with my 2 in one player character. Sadly she's still very cursed to remain as a small school of little boring fish on a treant's back, but with the help of Maggie, they were able to conjure illusions to use to talk to a group of fish folk that have been struggling to be a unified force lately. It's getting really important that they get their act together. A world set to have an Armageddon sometime soon and all that, so maybe hearing from one of their goddesses that has been missing for near a century, would help light some fires.

As for the design! I had help from my friend mainframe110 several years ago with her initial look. I told him I'd like her to be mostly inanimate looking, being made of coral that eventually gives out to shaped water that houses the fish that also make up her entire being, since she is a kind of hive mind. It's only since like march 2022 I started trying to learn how to draw people but I've been getting the hang of some things! I was able to finalize the design by that point from his initial sketch, getting her body shape and little details in order! I'm happy to have her look out!

#my art #gourami #dnd #rotating her and the other arch fae I made in my brain for a fun distraction these last few years haaaa #arch fae #fey #warlock patron

[eldritch-spouse]

I imagine Mother will just order angels to hold us by force so she could breed us, if we keep cockblocking her

Just think of four angels hold us by the arms and legs, like a rabid cat at the vet during an examination

TW: Noncon.

And the worst part is, at that point, your copulation has become a sort of public spectacle.

Sure, no one's there to make fun of you, quite the contrary, you're being congratulated and hailed as a living treasure -Which might just be worse than mockery- But Mother understood your concerns. She was willing to extend sacrifices for the sake of gaining your favor. She would promise to make the occasion of your joining a private one, hidden from the eye of her beloved followers and servants. She would do things the human way, if it meant having your cooperation and love.

But she supposes maybe you don't deserve want that after all, do you?

Four guardians hold your limbs, petting them, cooing, all collectively shushing your concerns, lacing their fingers with yours. Jonesy holds your head in his lap, murmuring how blessed you are in spite of your attitude, whispering sweet nothings, willing you to let yourself become Mother's, let yourself rise to a sacred role under her watchful eye, all the while an archangel with a skilled tongue works between your legs, their mouth the sweetest torture as your clit is rolled and sucked and they stop to kiss around your lips everytime you start getting close.

All of these angels are taking immense pleasure from this. You've learned that they're more akin to a hive than merely individuals. They'll do anything to please Miara, to pleasure her- And, by extension, you. Getting to prepare you for the first meeting of passions is a job many, many angels in Miara's island squabbled over. These lucky few are over the moon to be chosen. Wherein you might be sobbing and furious, they're trembling in arousal and anticipation. Some of them moaning, chirping in helpless pleasure as they watch you surrender to hormones, though never once touch themselves.

They can't. They haven't been allowed to. All that matters now is getting you sufficiently receptive to welcome Mother.

And, when Miara does join you, they can hardly keep themselves quiet, cheering for you with all the joy the world could hold while the guardians part your legs and Jonesy shifts to frame your glistening pussylips, spread them for his shrunken siadar's use.

Mother offers you a goddess' kiss when her fat cock stretches its way inside you, touching everything, leaving imprints on your body that you know will remain there forever, as evidence of this ritual. The celestials present peck and pet you, chittering sweetly as soon as she bottoms out.

Between Miara's gentle moans, the hands threading through your hair, the cooing, the fingers on your tits, hips, ankles -You don't even know who's pinching your poor clitoris anymore- It's hard to ignore what's happening, to distance yourself from these people, this fate that's been dealt upon you, from the active warping of your mind as empty words and soothing sensations erase your sanity.

What mere mortal mind could ever survive a god's lust?

You don't know what made you cum, or for how long you stretched out of your own skin, arched like a bow. All you know is that the archangel's slurping the area where Mother's shaft plows into you with a vengeance and you're going to start speaking in tongues if they don't stop. Adoring eyes look down upon you from all sides, your vision spins into different shapes and colors the more you're bounced by the higher's ardor.

Surprisingly, it's not the sensation of Miara's seed bloating your small body that causes you to freeze in primal terror.

It's feeling the last few remnants of resistance drown in her depraved love as your face softens, screaming inwardly when a content smile settles on your lips and your eyes glaze-

Forever lost to the world at large.

#Mother Miara #can you tell I like cult-y stuff? #i'm so subtle *cough*

[brothermouse]

Psst!

Hey!

I think the current trend in LDS art is for artists to look to their cultural and ethnic roots for inspiration, using Mormonism as a lens for their roots or their roots as a lens for their Mormonism. For example, an artist named Ahmed Jamal Qureshu made a piece called “Mazmuur Naafi: The Arabic Psalm of Nephi” where he uses Islamic calligraphy to look at a passage from the Book of Mormon.

But when the artist comes from a Mormon-centric background, like multigenerational members in Utah because it turns into an ouroboros of culture. And that gets stuff like this piece from the ARCH-HIVE’s latest show:

I think they’re both great, but I think it’s interesting that they’re both doing basically the same thing.

#not my art #tumblrstake #mormon #lds #lds church #just mormon things #art thoughts #mormon art #lds art