#Ornamented bikini

[bikinimedal]

If you are looking for effective ways to beat the heat, then keep yourself hydrated, follow a healthy lifestyle, use sunscreen, and wear bikini while going to a beach.

[chihiro20]

[gremlingottoosilly]

Omg please more Bimbo!reader x Mafia!Konig!!! I AM FERAL FOR IT! Your writing is so good! Can you maybe do some fluff with them! If not it’s totally fine! Thank you so so so much!<3

Konig smiles tiredly as you dance around in your bikini, showing it off to him. He doesn't understand how two tiny pieces of fabric and some jewels joining them could cost this much, but he will buy anything for his princess - as long as it means she will be happy and content with him. Throwing money at the problem is the only way he knows - either this or shooting the problem, which is clearly not an option here. He just tilts his head to the side as you laugh and ask for more pina coladas - it's a good thing he hired a new bartender for this property. The last one made the mistake of trying to get the lady of the house something cheap and artificial - you were still drinking it like a part girl you are, but Konig prefers you spend his money on something good. Something shiny and expensive - like a golden necklace with little diamonds incrusted into some magic ornament. He had a rough week - a rough month, most likely, with the new, almost uncorrupted politician rising in Vienna and promising to get the criminals away from the city. It was a problem he was solving currently - getting the secretaries, getting the bodyguards, surrounding the new guy with old ones, trying to get back into the warm underbelly. Konig just needs a bit of a pick-him-up, someone who won't be questioning his every move. Someone who has no idea how hard his work is. He slaps your butt as you stroll around, and you giggle. A godlike image - you lean down to him and ask if it would be too weird if you get on his lap and make out with him. You're a bit shy in the open air, a bit self-conscious about the servants he has running around - but he grabs you by your hip and pulls you down. You smell like expensive perfume and a bit of a water-cleaning chemical from the pool, and you laugh when he kisses you. You don't ask him about the gang wars, about drugs - you don't even take those unless he gives you something fun and non-dangerous, and your latest concerns include a new dress and a massage that you wanted to try on him because you saw it on insta. Konig loves you because he can finger you on the little pool seat while you squirm and moan while his other hand is busy texting his crooks on what to do with the most recent secretary the new politician got. Poor guy is going to get tortured for information and killed in the best-case scenario, but Konig doesn't feel remotely bad. He has his pretty wife meowing and moaning on his lap as he buries two of his large fingers into her cunt, and he has the informant on his phone. Life is good.

[thecameronchronicles]

From Afar

TW: Dom!JJ. Smut. Public acts of sexuality. Language. Degrading Language. Cheating. 

Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank. 

SUMMARY: Your decision to entertain yourself at the expense of a pogue has unforeseen consequences.

WORD COUNT: 3000

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

From Afar

Halfway through the summer meant all of the best parties had come to pass and became memories of such reckless and immature highlights. Memories you may come to regret or cringe at when describing in reminiscence had been proof of your vitality. But for now, it just meant that you were unbelievably bored. 

Picking at your nails had been the most productive trait you'd performed today. And with the heat blistering and a lack of motivation from an entitled lifestyle you had become entitled to as a birthright, you sought out entertainment in the most unethical, and immoral, of ways. 

A way that came in the form of a six foot blonde surfer loitering outside his best friend's father's store with a puff of smoke omitting between a set of dangerous dimples. The same dimples you'd always noticed even when the words spoken between would be mindless and a reason to cringe or become upset as he often spoke against those you called friends. Those dimples were always a means of silent intrigue. 

But as you looked at him from the passenger side car while in wait, you saw his eyes flick towards you. You tested the duration of his focus, almost as if to ensure he was worth the risk you were preparing to take. Once his eyes trained to you, almost as if to question if you were truly before him, you set two fingers into your puckered lips. The slow insertion was contrasted by the satisfying pop as you lowered your fingers into the bottoms of your bikini. His eyes widened as his jaw tensed at the sight. 

Shameless. 

His eyes followed the rise and twist of your wrist as you experimented to what angle could bring you to that edge fastest. But you were aware the only way to find that release would be a fondling of a secondary sensation. To this, your second hand rose to your breast, pulling down the fabric just enough to tease the breast he has been tempted with in the design of the suit already leaving such little to the imagination. Rather slowly, and with eyes set into his own, you pulled at the pebbled nub and released a silent moan that set him to shift in place. 

You were always a luminescent yet untouchable object just out of reach. An ornament to some Kook as you accompanied them throughout the island. But at this moment, you were performing for him. Striking those unsavory chords with nothing more than your well versed fingers and a former layout of late night practices. 

"JJ..." You mouthed his name as your body rose from the seat, chest heaving, and an expression compressed to fight the desperate whimpers you knew he would elicit from you. His reputation between your friends, and advisaries, validating this. Positions and sensations even those before him in their most valiant of attempts couldn't come close to. And he could do so without much effort. It was that effortlessness and danger you craved above all else. The unknown you wanted to uncover, even if you were the one bare for him now. 

"Fuck..." He breathed to himself, a tightened jaw showcasing his dimples and bone structure as you looked at him from across the scene, forgetful of how risky this had been. But that high was near enough to accept such radicular beratement. 

Heat pooling at the center of your suit, that release was on the other side of a handful of swipes. Thoughts of his skin rushing yours, his face contorting to his own pleasure, and the ultimate sound of your name as a whimper from his lips sent you riding into your hand as you shuddered midday in broad daylight with that well needed orgasm. 

In the nick of time of your fingers leaving your jean shorts pulled apart when first witnessing JJ, the door to the hardware store came open to reveal your boyfriend. The very reason you could never act on your fantasies no matter the desire to do so. A constant desire it was, always just out of reach. 

As the car passed the corner in which he stood, mouth hung open and eyes heavy with lust, the most victorious of smiles came over your expression as you left the moment of recklessness at your rearview. 

But he would remember. Every detail of how you appeared to him. How you tormented him. And JJ Maybank was the type of guy to get even...

Hours passed as Topper's arm pulled from your shoulders to slink down onto Kelce's couch. He kept you close, a sign of possession worn on the heavy hand at a rest between your thighs, but he was too drunk to notice, or care, for how monotonous the night had become. The same conversations of them discussing surfing and college as you felt as more of an accompaniment than a partner. But you blamed it on your inability to find comfort at rest. Too lively to be content in one place for too long. A nomad at heart. Possibly born into a family on the wrong side of the island. 

"Want a hit?" Rafe teased as you rejected his offer of the line drawn on the table. Making some comment about how you couldn't handle it anyway, you took it as a chance to leave as Topper was fading on the couch. Half drunk and half fatigued, you left him behind you. 

Your cheeks blushed as you thought of your actions earlier that day as everything at this party reminded you of it. Any girl in matching jean shorts or any guy with blonde hair. Even the song playing as background noise had returned you to the bold moment you'd experienced without so much as his touch. 

The heat between your thighs returned as you wondered if you could satisfy it without returning with a guilty expression. But ultimately, your duties as a girlfriend would come first as Topper swayed as he stood. It was enough to make you roll your eyes and regret coming with him. 

Finishing the drink you'd made in the kitchen, you promised your mutual friends you would take him home when you came back from the restroom. Pushing through a selection of nameless guests, many of whom were friends of friends, you climbed the steps in a slow gait, no need to rush. But the second you broke from the stair and to the steady ground of the second floor, you were taken into a bedroom. The door closed behind you and a familiar scent of sea, marijuana, and salt exposing his identity. 

"I don't like games, princess..." 

"Who said I was playing anything?" You asked with a grin wide enough to be noted in the darkness. 

"You couldn't afford to play with me..." You teased, the smirk heard in your words as you could feel his scoff, see his dimples, read the sin behind his eyes. The very sin you were responsible for not even a handful of hours prior. 

"Who says I want to?" 

"You're here..."

"Because I'm tired of you Kooks thinking you can do whatever you want without repercussions." Your lips parted in surprise. 

"A big word for you, Maybank, gold star..." 

"Think you're cute, huh? Think every guy is just dying to take you out? Buy you flowers?" He took a step closer, the extent of his body felt as he pinned you to the door at your back. The wood creaking as you turned to view it before turning back to him. But once you had, you were a centimeter from his face as the edge of his nose brushed yours. 

"I don't want to date you. I don't want to be nice to you." He set his palms on the wall on either side of you. 

"I want to fuck you." 

"What's it like to want?"

"That's right..." He slowly nodded, "You don't, do you? Want a necklace or some bracelet and you scheme one of your monetary idiots to get it...daddy buys everything for you...right? Guys lining up from here to The Cut for a chance with you? Well...they must not be doing it right if you were touching yourself in broad daylight to get my attention..." His hand was on your hip, a thumb extended to your seam. 

"So you have it...what are you gonna do with it?" He teased as your fingers rushed through his hair as you pulled him into you. The curiosity to know his kiss was no longer an unknown. His lips were softer in ambition and existence than you could have imagined, worsened by the smirk that crafted by your initiation. 

"Who says I want it?" He appeared indifferent before those fingers brushed your clothed clit. A short skirt making this easy as your back arched from the wall. 

"Every inch of you...Jesus, can Kooks do anything right?" His second hand came to your breast before you could defend the group in which you belonged. But trust funds and money could not teach them what experience he brought onto you. The perfect motions of his touch, tormenting you just enough to be unbearable and the occasional peace brought in the pleasure offered for only a moment. 

"Apparently you didn't come hard enough earlier if you're still this wet...this desperate...So let me show you how to do it properly..." He set your own fingers to your sex , mimicking how his fingers danced just moments prior, but with the pads of your own touch. 

"Maybe you don't have to risk touching yourself on my side of the island just to get my attention...." Your mouth pulled apart. "Maybe you can just get yourself ready for me..." His fingers suddenly withdrew as he had you nearly panting for him. His name, a near plea on your lips. Your body tremulous in the desperation of his touch. 

"Let's see what sounds a princess makes when she makes herself come for a dirty pogue..." The way your fingers fisted his shirt widened his smirk as you pulled him harder into you. His scoff felt at your parted lips. You needed more. All of him. But as you ventured to capture a kiss, he retracted. 

"You aren't in control here, sweetheart. You had your fun. Now it's my turn..." With your fingers still active between your lower lips, he pulled you to the bed you had forgotten was even present in the room. Yet, he wouldn't allow you the comfort of a rest. As you went to sit, he took hold of the back of your neck and pounded his fingers into you. 

"You don't say a fucking word. Listen to how wet you are...listen to your body wanting me." He spoke against you, forehead at rest to yours that strained beneath him. 

"Don't come-"

"JJ-" He scoffed. 

"This isn't the part where you scream my name..." To this you were offered a few more pumps before being pushed to the bed. 

"I want to watch closer." He explained, standing between your legs and unlatching his belt. His rings catching the light of the window as you craved the fingers against you. Inside of you. Pinning you. Anything! It was maddening. 

"I want you..."

"Probably the first time in your life to want..." You gasped as he pulled you further to the bed, closer to him. 

"You wanted to show me...so show me..." His voice was low. Guttural. Threatening even as you began to stroke yourself. Some forbidden chord set in a perfect rhythm as he lowered, sending your eyes to roll. But the lower his descension, the wider your legs would be pulled until your knees were against the bed. 

"Faster-" He instructed, his mouth parting, nearly watering, as you toyed with yourself for him. 

"I just showed you how...you can do better than that..." He patronized as you narrowed your eyes. 

"JJ-"

"Just what would all your little friends say to you touching on yourself for a pogue? Hmm? Calling out his name?" His fingers swiped around you motions. "Dripping for me?" His mouth parted as he licked his lips. 

"And Jesus, you are dripping…fuck…"

"I don't care.."

"No? So you don't care if they hear you?" 

"No!"

"Don't. Come."

"JJ!" 

"Faster." He forced your hand to make the speed you hesitated to. At the moment as your body became lost to the sensations, he retreated. 

"Well I don't want anyone to hear you. Can't ruin my reputation thinking I want some bratty little Kook."

You were breathless. Winded. Even more desperate for him that you were in the car-even ten seconds prior. 

"JJ..." 

"For the first time in your life, you're going to do it yourself. You want it...take it..." He motioned down to his pants. You moved from your elbows and closer to him. 

"Go on..." He continued as your eyes flashed to him. But as your gaze fell to take in his anatomy as it was pulled by your activation, he pulled your hair slowly. 

"Keep your eyes on me..." You didn't fight him as you only lowered to your knees and pulled his shorts to his ankles. An intimidating yet aesthetically pleasing cock teasing your kiss. A teasing peck set on the edge as he breathed a simple deep exhale. 

"Don't act all sweet. You wanted to be a whore, so take me in the back of your throat like one-" He gasped with the depth in which you took him. The same depth you kept and released as he bent over you and grilled onto the bed. 

"Fuck!"

It was the only utterance he was able to make. Your name sounded too innocent and God himself shied away as he called on his wavering faith. You were his anchor, his pain, his pleasure, and at this moment, his vice. Your hand twisted from base to tip as you  broke for breath. 

"Enough..." He winced weakly, hoping you'd be more desperate than him. But your suction and hollowed cheeks, the vibration from your moaning, all of this became too much too quickly. He was spilling into you despite his best efforts, forcing him to pull you on conviction. You were allowed even a breath before being turned on the bed. 

"My way, princess...like the whore you are..." He smacked your ass, making you gasp, before he arranged himself with a condom. You looked back in the nick of time to watch him align his cock with you and slip in effortlessly, you holding him like a vice once he bottomed out. 

"Goddamnit-" he grunted. 

"I know you aren't a virgin, but you're too fucking tight to be the whore I thought you were...maybe you just need the right dick, right?" You bit your lip.

Plowing into you, you were unhinged before him, a vessel as your release was on the other side of his mercy. 

"JJ!" You shrieked as he swipes your ass again. 

"Look at me...Watch me fuck you..." 

"I can't..." You explained as he pulled you at an angle in which your leg would come to rest at his shoulder. 

"No more fucking excuses." He spat, eyes wide for a moment as his lips parted in pain of a rush of stimulation. Too much pleasure. Too much of you. 

"You like that?"

"Yes...." You groaned. 

"Tell me it feels good..."

"It..." He took his hand around your breast, a pinch made to your nipples as you trembled. Your legs taking on a life of their own as they were kept locked by his motions.

"You like being fucked like this, don't you sweetheart…can't even tell me how good it is…" Not a nerve untouched as your eyes pryed open to take in the way he responded to you. The look across his expression, the sweat gathering at his naked chest, you could recall had been made bare, and the animalistic groans and grunts acted accordingly to the rise of your release. That close release, too deep and too favored to be truly appreciated. 

"Tell me..." He almost begged, a wince of unbearable pleasure making his cadence alter as he bent your leg to your chest as he pulled over you. His grip eating into the sheets beside you for stability as he rooted into you. Your cervix teased and tested as he pounded ok repetition. Pain quickly eased by pleasure as you moaned in accordance to him. 

"JJ!"

"Fucking tell me how good I feel or you-"

"You feel so good!"

"Better than him?" 

"Fuck, yes!" 

"Beg me to let you come. Tell me you want me to make you come..." He spoke through accelerated thrusts. Your body gliding easily beneath his as you continued. 

"Make me come."

"I said beg. You demand enough."

"Please!" With a recline of corrected posture he spit on your clit unnecessary for anything aside from the aesthetic of eroticism between you, before rubbing vicious circles. Your body rose from itself. Ethereal life and deaths at war to claim you first until pleasure won overall. Your body in tremors your eyes pulled into a roll, and your voice silent following that whimper of release. You looked over him, a gush granting his final thrusts at ease as he tightened and relinquished himself in that final flex before kissing you. 

"You pull another stunt like that in public sweetheart, and THAT happens on the hood of whatever car whose seat you're leaving wet." He retracted from you. 

"No matter whose car it is." 

"JJ..." 

"Until you can learn to keep these dry, I'll take em for ya..." He stole your panties from the floor before setting his shirt over his damp skin. 

"See ya 'round, princess."

If you could have walked, you would have followed him far enough into the hall to berate him. If anything, to demand he return your underwear. But a part of you liked the fact he had a piece of you. 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916  @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

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[bikinibottommall]

🏪Some buildings in Bikini Bottom I made so far🏠

[whltlock]

Verse: Sex!Worker Reader/Jason Todd

C/W: implied sexual violence (mentioned, not described), reader is injured, hurt/comfort

Jason lands gracefully on the rooftop, a blithe red and black panther that glides through the night.

Harsh sobs fill the air and immediately, he rips his helmet off and strides towards the couch. He sinks in front of you. You’re crumpled in on yourself, face hidden, hands cradled to your chest. His heart aches at the sight.

Slowly, Jason places a hand on your knee and whispers your name. It makes you cry harder, and his chest constricts. His mouth goes desert dry, but he manages to ask, “What’s going on?”

You don’t answer as your body continues to rattle with weeps. They sound deeply wounded, like they’re emanating from your very core. Unfixable. Jason wonders if this is the night he gets you out of here.

But he can’t do that yet—he can’t just whisk you away. He needs your permission. He gives you the control you don’t get anywhere else. The self-determination you deserve.

Instead, he rests his chin on your thigh. “Hey,” he says softly. “I’m here. I got you. You’re safe.”

Jason repeats it again and again, his tone low, mouth brushing over your skin so you know it’s okay. His fingers graze your knee. He doesn’t know if it’s too far, but you don’t object.

Eventually, your sobs lessen, and you let the sounds of the night take over. You shift a little and expose a slither of your face in the process.

“What…?”

As you uncurl fully, the question dies on his tongue. It’s a slap to the face as he takes in your split shirt, the loosely hanging collar that reveals a bikini beneath, and the uneven tear in your skirt. Fury piles in his veins.

He pushes onto his knees and his hands turn to white-knuckled fists. His teeth are bared as he swears in a dangerous tone, “Motherfuckers.” A violent plan forms behind his eyes. Blood will coat the walls, and they’ll have to redecorate with carved bone ornaments.

Jason doesn’t have to ask for an explanation. Looking at you, he gets the gist. He knows something bad, awful, terrible has happened. You’ve had the night from hell and he wasn’t there to stop it.

He wants to get to his feet and take care of things, but one glance at you, and he pauses. Your face is sallow and slightly bruised, but what scares him more is the faraway look to your eyes. He sinks back onto his haunches and says your name like it’s a plea. Come back to me. Come with me.

Your eyes flick to him, gaze uncharacteristically shaken. He forces himself to maintain eye contact, to swallow the bile that burns his throat.

They hurt you, worse than usual, perhaps irreparably. The thoughts run on a cycle through his mind. He might not see you again because of it.

His lips form around your name, though they never make it out. You flinch, then wrap an arm around your opposite elbow in a poor imitation of a hug.

“He…” you say, and your voice box sounds broken as you speak for the first time since the assault. “A client wanted…” Your eyes drop to your lap, teary. “What I don’t do,” you say. “Where I don’t…” Want it, is what you try to say. Even a whore has her limits.

You choke a little as Jason’s forehead falls against your knee. You feel his shaky breath, like he’s just as distraught. Cautiously, he wraps his arms around your calves and holds you like that; the only comfort he feels he can offer.

“Did he…?” Jason croaks out the question. Did they get their way?

“Not tonight,” you rasp, voice fraught. “Next time,” you say, and then repeat, “next time they’ll make me.”

His head lifts and he focuses on you. His mouth is sour. That previous plea sings again—

But you’re not looking at him. Your eyes are on your hand. The hand, he notices, that’s bent at an odd, disgusting angle at the wrist, mangled with dark bruises and swelling.

His breath hitches, and instantly he knows, “It’s broken.”

“I should’ve let them have me,” you say raggedly. “Shouldn’t have fought it…”

“Don’t,” Jason says, nostrils flaring momentarily. Either way, it was an impossible choice. “You’re not to blame, alright?”

The intonation at the end doesn’t rise—it’s not really a question. You swallow.

“It hurts,” you whisper pathetically, allowing him to pry it closer into view.

His indignation softens. “I know,” he murmurs and places a kiss to your thumb. “Christ, I’m sorry.” Jason sighs as he readies himself for your next argument. After an anxious beat, he says, “I gotta get you fixed up.”

“No,” you’re quick to reply. “No hospitals. You know I can’t—”

He says your name firmly, and then, “There’s a clinic in the Narrows and the docs are discreet. No hospitals, promise.”

Your eyes dart across his face wildly. “They’ll break my other one.”

At that, Jason stands. He cups your face with both hands, expression serious, and tilts your chin skyward. “If we don’t get some kinda cast on this it won’t heal right,” he says. “We’ll wrap it inconspicuously and be back in a flash, okay?”

Your functional hand clutches at his. “Jason…”

“Please, sweetheart,” he says softly, gaze earnest as he stares at you. “Let me do my thing and help you for once.”

Tears trickle down your cheeks, but you relent with a nod.

[iamoutofideas]

they should send a strong woman in bikini armour and a cape holding a giant sword to my house to put holes in the walls and break all the ornaments and

[bikinimedal]

If you are looking for effective ways to beat the heat, then keep yourself hydrated, follow a healthy lifestyle, use sunscreen, and wear bikini while going to a beach.

[darkspine10]

GF Fanfic - Finding Roots

Tangled Roots (21,306 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 4/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

Leaving her clothes drying next to a radiator, Pacifica tried and failed to walk outside and face Mabel and Zera for the sixth time in a row. It was taking her an age to step outside, self-conscious of them seeing her bare skin. She mainly put it down to her being uncomfortable in the borrowed swimsuit. Mabel’s taste in pink was a bit more vibrant than her own, to put it lightly, but the colour wasn’t the problem.

Mabel was by any standard slimmer than she was. She had a slenderer frame in general, with her gangly limbs and wiry body. It meant that Pacifica struggled to adequately fit in the bikini top. Her asymmetric breasts were disgustingly crammed in, showing more cleavage and nipples poking through the fabric than she would ever be comfortable with in public. Fortunately, she only had to entertain her sister-in-law and her wife, a marginally easier prospect. In the end she opted to wear the osprey skull necklace over the swimsuit. As a fashion statement it was gauche, but it would serve to draw attention subtly away from her insecurities.

Meanwhile a bandage patch taped on her arm covered up the scratches. Cleaned of blood and dirt, after all she’d inflicted upon herself it turned out the cuts weren’t actually that deep. With luck the marks would fade in a few weeks, leaving barely a trace of her self-caused attempt at scarring herself. Good, she thought. It had been deluded of her to think of doing such a thing in the first place. “Fucking hell,” she muttered, aghast at her own behaviour. She dipped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face to wipe away the last trace of her fading and smudged make up. The morning felt like a very long time ago.

She wandered around Mabel’s new living room. It was lightly furnished but had an inviting stone fireplace and couch combination that she had to tear herself away from lest she curl up and fall asleep. Cardboard boxes full of ornaments and disassembled furniture were strewn everywhere. Pacifica stepped on tiptoes, afraid of coming upon Mabel’s pet snake. It wouldn’t be good if she ended up accidentally stepping on her and getting bitten. She had enough marks from tonight already.

Before finally leaving the sanctity of the living room, she wrote a quick note in her journal. The book had thankfully remained dry in an inside pocket of her jacket, though she made sure to position it by the fire to rid any chance of damp setting in. Her urge to document the encounter with the ape monster made her pen dance across the page in an unbidden flurry. It was times like these she felt closest to Mason, understanding the frenzied desire to commit the memories to paper before all the details were lost. Satisfied she had enough notes to remind her of finer details later, she steeled herself, for the cold and the company, and stepped into the garden.

A set of square granite paving stones lead out through the grassy lawn, saving her bare feet from treading on dirt. Approaching the hot tub, she climbed up wooden steps, slicked wet with condensation. A layer of steam hanging above the water was tantalisingly warm against her icy skin.

Zera and Mabel were already soaking in the water, their arms in a reclining position in adjacent corners of the pool. Mabel’s tattoos were on full display all up her arms, a riot of colour. She had seen her skin as a canvas, continuously adding to the collection over the past 15 years. Pink and green butterflies, a golden pine tree, blue swirls in an alien language, she had it all. Compared to Pacifica’s pure, untainted body each tattoo was a link to the past. Mabel noticed her lingering at the edge of the light and waved her over. “Come on in Paz, the water’s lovely.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes. Of course it was lovely, Mabel was in precise control of the temperature with a dial. She stepped gingerly around fake plastic stone cairns which attempted to give the hot tub the look of a Japanese onsen. A gaudy plastic flamingo and inflated palm trees rather clashed with the effect.

The second her toe entered the water it was as if a weight lifted off her shoulders. Her muscles began to relax as a lot of the stress she’d been holding onto melted away. Even though the bandage on her arm was waterproof she still felt a tingle when she lowered herself into the steaming water. Wiggling until she was comfortable, she made sure her chest was partially under the water’s surface. She spread her hair out on the side of the hot tub, as it was still taking ages to dry from her first plunge, so she wasn’t about to restart the whole process.

“So,” Mabel asked, glad to see her friend was enjoying the restorative qualities of the water, “what brings you out here on a night like this?”

“Would you believe I was out looking for a dangerous monster?”

“Really?” Mabel was shocked, though only mildly. In this town monster hunting was a semi-regular occurrence. “I thought maybe your house had burnt down again.”

“No, it’s still standing. At least it was when I left,” she added, making both Mabel and Zera laugh. She smiled, easing up amidst the jovial mood. “I guess I’ll tell you the full story.” The full story was quickly pared down into edited highlights. She didn’t mention her motivations, besides that Manly Dan was involved, and focused more on the practicalities of her search for the Unshriven and ensuing pursuit. The couple remained enraptured during her entire narrative. “Anyway, then I blundered over your fence and that’s how I ended up taking an unwanted dip.”

Zera wagged a finger. “That’s what you get for vaulting into random strangers’ gardens.” She flashed a wink at Pacifica to show she was only teasing.

In the other corner Mabel was her usual excited self and had hung on every word during the story. “Woah, that ape thing sounds intense.”

Zera simply nodded, her eyes half-lidded and seemingly content to rest in the water with her head leaning on the side. Pacifica couldn’t blame her for not being as invested; she had interrupted the pair’s private relaxing evening after all.

“You’re pretty lucky it didn’t maul you any deeper. You might have got gutted,” Mabel said a bit too eagerly.

“What, this?” She raised and lowered her bandaged arm with a weak splash. “This was nothing glamorous. I fell through a bush.”

“Oh.” Mabel visibly deflated, then perked up again almost as swiftly. “Well, I’m sure you were super brave to be out there in the first place. Manly Dan is bound to appreciate it. A big macho guy like that could do with accepting a friendly helping hand from time to time.”

“Maybe.” Pacifica picked up the amulet, then let it droop back down. Her mission in hunting the beast wasn’t entirely about soothing Corduroy’s ego. She wasn’t about to broach the subject in its entirety.

“I dated a Corduroy once.” Mabel tapped her chin in remembrance. Pacifica expected more of a reaction from Zera, since she was married to Mabel, but it garnered only a quick sidewards glance. They must be comfortable talking about past relationships, she surmised.

“Which one,” Pacifica asked, now she knew the topic wasn’t taboo. “Kevin or Gus?”

“You know, I'm not actually sure I remember.”

This cracked Pacifica up, and for the first time that day she started laughing out loud. The giggles she found herself overcome by were infectious, making Mabel join in as well.

“He was very shy. I don’t think he’d so much as talked to a girl beside his sister before. Boy, you shoulda seen the way his dick shrivelled up at the sight of my hoo-ha.”

Pacifica screwed up her face. “Mabel, you’re oversharing.” Her friend blushed and sank a little way so only her nose and eyes were visible above the water.

“My bad,” she gargled. “I’m still in girl talk mode I guess.”

“My fault,” Zera said, hand on heart.

Pacifica looked at the woman, her eyes crossing and uncrossing. Her brain must have been too distracted to focus as she noticed for the first time that Zera was in her human guise rather than displaying her true alien nature. “Hey, you’re wearing your perception filter,” she stated. Briefly her eyes unblurred and she saw Zera’s aquamarine scales in place of brown skin. Underneath the illusion she had all the bearing of a great white.

Zera scratched at her earlobe and the grey triangular earring that generated the effect. “Oh, yeah, sometimes May and I like to switch things up. Explore alternatives.” The alien woman bit her lip, unsure how far to go, but Mabel handily put her foot in it.

“It’s healthy to explore the bounds of our relationship. It’s really fun. Sometimes I even put the filter on and Zera sees me as an alien!”

“What does a S’aren version of Mabel Pines look like?” Pacifica asked Zera in a hushed whisper out of the side of her mouth.

“Like a perch and a halberd had a baby,” the alien replied, and Pacifica couldn’t be sure if her tone was derogatory or affectionate.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Pacifica said matter-of-factly, not wanting to get too deep into the details of her friend’s freaky sex life. “With the amount of different species Mabel’s courted of course you’d be into trying new things.”

“Yeah, you would not believe how easy it is to spice up your love life with a bit of magic. Who knew this town was the perfect place to find aphrodisiacs.”

“Mabel?” Pacifica interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Too much info.”

“Oops, sorry again.”

Pacifica smiled, finding Mabel’s forgetfulness amusing for once. After the day she’d had she needed a bit of levity. “On the other hand, you managed to keep this little venture quiet.” She gestured back towards the house. It was a quaint two-storey cottage, built out of wooden planks with a sloping roof. A chimney poked out, giving the air of a secluded forest retreat. “You two are living out the ideal cottagecore lesbian experience. When did you move in?”

Mabel bore a sheepish grin, and her cheeks were a deeper red than any awkward conversation about her private life could bring out. “Last Tuesday.” As far as Pacifica had known Mabel and Zera had spent the weeks since New Year’s bouncing between various motels while arranging the move to Gravity Falls. She had no idea they were so far along in their plans. “I wanted to get the place nice and ready then bam- have a party or something. It was gonna be a huge surprise.”

“First you didn’t tell us about your wedding, now this. Secrets secrets.” She shook her head teasingly. “I guess it can still be a surprise for Mace and the kids. We can do a picnic or something, when it’s warmer. I'm sure you can come up with a classically ‘you’ way of revealing it.”

This raised Mabel’s mood and her blush started to fade. She whispered a thank you, glad to have the burden of lying, even over something so minor, out of the way. “How are you two and the kids anyway? We didn’t have much of a chance to catch up earlier.”

“Oh, the kids are…” She came up short, suddenly aware that this was something she didn’t want to discuss in depth. “...fine.” She searched for a way to deflect the topic. “What about you guys? Ever thought about kids?”

From their vacant glances the couple didn’t seem to have given it much thought. Zera shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it much.”

“Maybe someday,” Mabel added, “but not right now. It’d be so exciting, but there’s a lot going on, settling in, getting used to living together.”

“It can be shackling,” Pacifica said offhand in such a way to not raise further attention.

Mabel tapped her chin. “Though we have been thinking about opening things up a bit in another way.” Her eyebrows wiggled and her fingers tickled Zera’s shoulder. “You know, get someone else in on the dynamic. I don’t suppose… you know anyone, Paz?”

Pacifica blinked, then diplomatically said, “There are many things I’d do for you, Mabel, but I’m not helping you find a third.”

“And I thought you humans were meant to be open about your sexualities,” Zera said, though Pacifica could tell she was joking.

“Didn’t you two just get married three months ago?” Pacifica asked, slightly uneasy with the line of questioning.

“Yeah!” Mabel said as if not even conceiving of that being a problem.

Well, if it works for them, Pacifica thought with a shrug. Eager to move on, she said, “Back to your house, it looks pleasant at least. You’ve chosen a nice spot, and the design is inviting. I’d know. Though I will say your choice in decorations are a little… eclectic.”

Pacifica pointed to the roof, which was strewn with flashing coloured lights. There was even a cardboard sleigh pulled by straw reindeer. When Mabel went all out with decorating, she went all out. “I think you forgot the fact that Christmas was nearly a month ago.”

“Well, we moved in after Christmas ended, so we missed our chance to decorate. I had to make up for that devastating loss. In this house the decorations stay up ‘til February! That’s a Mabel promise!” She nodded vigorously, while Zera did the same with less energy. “Though the lights do keep attracting giant moths and Peek-a-blights. This town is great, but the locals can be annoying. I’ll have to create another unicorn shield when I have the time.“

“So you finally decided to settle in one spot,” Pacifica said with some respect. For some years now Mabel had been an itinerant, wandering not only this country, but all over the world. Even getting hitched hadn’t tied her down.

“My New Year’s Resolution was to make roots for myself. You know what my life’s been like.” Pacifica nodded. She was all too aware of Mabel’s ‘career’ in protesting corporations and the government. Taking a break from all that would probably do her some good. “I wanna help out with my protest groups, but made a promise to myself and to Zera to stick it out in one place for a year, maybe two, to see how it goes.”

“The great agitator, May Pines, finally calling it quits?”

“Not entirely. I’ve been running communication lines for contacts all up the West Coast. I’ve got invaluable tactical knowledge.”

“Let me guess: you know a guy who knows a guy, and your job is introducing other guys to those guys.”

“Got it in one, Paz.” She winked and pointed finger guns in Pacifica’s direction. “It’s not as satisfying as chucking a brick at a cop’s head, but it is probably more practical in the long run.”

Pacifica shook her head “I don’t get it. You're saving little ducklings crossing the street one minute and trying to tear down society the next.”

“Two sides of the same coin, sister. Can’t make a better world without a dash of compassion and a pinch of action.”

Something about the way Mabel talked about this stuff always confused Pacifica. On the one hand was the Mabel she’d known since childhood, happy-go-lucky and carefree, and on the other was some kind of tactical planner aiming to overthrow the government. It jarred, even as she was somewhat sympathetic to her aims.

Beneath all the sunshine and rainbows and smiles was a girl who wasn’t afraid to pack a mean punch. She probably got it from her conman of an uncle. Mabel had always been attracted to shady people. When Pacifica found out that her first serious boyfriend, an emo teenager, turned out to be a stack of gnomes out to woo her, suddenly everything about Mabel’s love life made perfect sense. Zera was no different, with her history scamming people beyond the stars. Pacifica wondered if she ever looked up at the night sky on nights like tonight and felt a pang of longing for where she’d grown up. Did Zera have the same conflicted emotions that she did towards a home that she both adored and reviled?

Pacifica didn’t know the answer. She did know that Zera and Mabel seemed happy together in married bliss, so she wasn’t about to judge them too harshly. She gave a single chuckle and ran her hand through a stream of bubbles. She enjoyed the sensation as it lightly massaged her tired joints. “Not bad for a day that started with a funeral,” she said idly to herself.

“That’s why we’re out here,” Mabel said, turning glum. “I got all depressed and miserable during the memorial earlier. Then we went and got ice cream for lunch and I felt way better!”

“Hooray for you,” Pacifica muttered under her breath.

“Plus we get to see the light show.”

Though the stars still illuminated the canopy above, Pacifica couldn’t see even a glimmer of a meteor trail. The girls had been unlucky tonight, missing the apogee of the cosmic event. As she watched the lights twinkle through the atmosphere, she felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Mentioning the funeral had been a mistake. It reminded her that somewhere up there, out in the vast omniversal web of time and space, Wendy had given her life to save this world.

“How do you do it, Mabel? How do you mourn someone you never truly knew when they were alive?”

“Say what now, Pacifica?” Mabel was caught off guard by this line of questioning.

“How do you deal with the fact those days are gone and you can never get them back no matter how hard you try? I missed my chance to understand her.”

“Are you talking about Wendy?” Zera asked, her first contribution to proceedings in a while. “I didn’t know her much either. Like, half an hour at best. Nor Eli,” she added for Mabel’s benefit. “It was a busy day.”

She stretched a hand over to Mabel, who planted a kiss on her knuckles. Mabel straightened her back. “Hey, we don’t need to get all mopey about that. Not when we’ve got a Turbo Deluxe, top of the range Minerva Spa 5000! With all the extra features!” She cranked a dial on the edge of the tub, sending out a forceful jet of bubbles right beneath where Pacifica was sitting. The water churned and swirled, forming a miniature whirlpool in the centre. “It’s got multicoloured mood lighting, directional controls on all of the vents, plus a complimentary seating deck and chairs, vibrating seat functions, a mini-fridge accessory…”

Listening to Mabel rattle off endless pointless facts about bubble flow and seating optimisation, Pacifica found herself entering an almost trance-like reverie. The comfortable warmth of the water made her muscles slacken and her mind spin in circles.

“I wish I cared as much as you,” she blurted out, cutting off Mabel in mid-flow.

“It’s never too late to get into hot tubs in a big way!”

“No, not about that.” Pacifica’s voice cut through the air. She’d had to raise her voice to be heard over the churning water. Mabel sat there opposite, slightly stunned. When she spoke again it was hoarsely. “I wish I could care as much as you can about anything. You always have so much passion for life. There are times I feel like I can barely match it. Mason has it too, the way he obsesses over his journals and investigating mysteries. I like doing a lot of things - I don’t know if I actually love any of them.”

Mabel waved a dismissive hand “Ah, We all get a little down at this time of the month.” She winked exaggeratedly.

Pacifica blinked in response. “N- No, Mabel- I’m not on my period.”

“Phew, that’s good. Me neither!”

Slightly baffled, Pacifica tried to steer the conversation back on track. “It’s not seasonal, I just… maybe I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“That’s the thing with bleeding and cramps, yeah?” Zera asked. She leant towards Pacifica as if in explanation. “My body cycle is pretty different to a human’s.”

Pacifica glanced from Zera to Mabel and back, her mind uncomfortably racing with thoughts of alien anatomy. “Are you two even… compatible?” She tapped the ends of her fingers together while stifling a blush.

Mabel suddenly looked down at her with a serious expression. “What, you want to know if we were planning to spend all night scissoring til we pass out?”

“Ew, Mabel! That’s the grossest thing you’ve said all night.” She blushed uncomfortably and covered her face with a hand, leading Mabel to burst into giggles. “Don’t you have any kind of filter before you speak?” she shouted.

“Well sure. It was just funny to make you squirm.” Mabel splashed a handful of water in Pacifica’s direction, mindful to miss on purpose so as not to agitate her arm. “Come on, hot-tub time is the best for letting out all that kind of personal biz. We could play Truth or Dare or Don’t!”

Pacifica leant her head back so far she hit the edge of the hot-tub. “I hate that game. It’s nothing but pointless challenges or over-sharing things I’d rather keep to myself, and it fundamentally doesn’t work if anyone can opt out whenever they like! The last time we played it we were 17 for crying out loud!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘Don’t’, then,” Zera said.

“Oh, very droll.”

Mabel, fiddling with the dial to try to reduce the noise of the bubbles, spoke up. “You did indirectly end up dating my brother because of that game though. It made you so mad you stormed off and had that ‘quiet moment’ together where you ‘talked things out’.” Mabel made air quotes with her fingers. “Maybe we could talk things out now? If there’s something bugging you.”

“It’s nothing, I’m perfectly fine,” she lied, sinking into the water to try and hide her expression.

“Come on Paz. Five minutes ago you were getting all existential on us, with all the missed chances and mourning junk. Is this about Wendy? Or yourself?” Holding up her palms, Mabel stood up out of the water. “Look, you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, but this is an accepting space where no-one will judge you.”

“I might judge you a little,” Zera said with a sly grin. Mabel kicked water in her face and shot her a dirty look. That only made Zera’s shark-like expression widen.

“The point is,” Mabel continued, “that we might be able to help. We won’t know how to do that unless you spill some beans.” She looked around for a can of beans to knock over but was disappointed.

Pacifica floated indecisively, face half in and half out of the water. “It’s… kind of a lot.” Mabel remained smiling, inviting her to speak her truth. “I…” After everything she’d been through today, what was one more risky step? “It’s the pregnancy,” she bluntly stated, and before either of the others could do anything but pull confused looks she carried on. “Yeah, I gave birth six months ago, I get it. But damnit, I still don’t feel normal again. I’m stuck with a body I can’t stand the sight of even though I’m fully aware it’s average at worst, and a baby I’m shackled to for the rest of my life.”

Mabel tried to interject but Pacifica wasn’t done. “It’s not a fairytale motherhood. It’s vomit, and shit, and crying, and staying awake all night terrified something might happen and regretting it and not regretting it… it’s too much.” She clasped a hand over her eyes and ran it through her hair. She breathed in and out. “I can handle Merrise. She’s mature enough to take care of herself most of the time. Just when I’m warming to one kid - bam! I get saddled with another of the little bastards.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Mabel reprimanded, more disappointed than angry. “You’re supposed to love Wendy. You always said she was such a blessing.”

“I know, and I do. That’s the problem. She’s the most important thing in my life and yet I’m repulsed by the thought of having to care for her and the way I’ve reacted. Look at me!” She angrily thrust herself towards Zera and Mabel, who tried to avoid staring. “I don’t know what you see but I see a freak. It’s not rational, it’s not pleasant, and it sure as fuck isn’t the way I want to feel about my appearance. I can’t help it. I’m… damaged goods.” She wrapped her arms around herself in as tight an embrace as she could manage.

There was a moment of silence, where the only sound was the humming of the hot tub. “Uh, maybe I should go inside?” Zera motioned to get out of the water but Mabel shot her down with a look and pulled her back.

Mabel spent a few seconds wringing her hands, then scooched around the edge of the hot tub, slowly moving to sit beside Pacifica. She reached to put an arm around her shoulders but held back when Pacifica flinched. A second later she tried again and held her friend in a light hug. They rocked together gently from side to side. “Oh Pacifica, baby. You don’t have to face it alone. Have you told-“

“Mason? Not yet, not ever if I can help it. It’s not like he doesn’t help out with the kids, he’s been a great father. But it’s not the same. He treats me like a goddess most of the time. The last thing I want is to be put on a pedestal.”

Zera mouthed something to Mabel, who similarly fired back, darting her eyes over to Pacifica to make her point. With a sigh Zera stayed where she was, grudgingly accepting whatever her wife had signalled. Mabel slowly stroked Pacifica’s hair.

“Your folks are back in the Cube again,” Mabel said.

Pacifica shot up straight and shifted a little away from Mabel. “So, so what? Why should I care?”

‘The Cube’ was their derogatory nickname for the modernist house the Northwest family had moved into after losing the manor. It was blocky and passionless, clad in grey and black that made it look like a concrete brick had been dropped in the middle of town. A high surrounding wall further removed it from the common inhabitants, though it couldn’t live up to the privileged position the family had once commanded. The Northwests now spent their time moving around, living for certain months here and the rest of their time at a beachfront property in Los Angeles. They had never been fond of the town, with its magic always uncomfortably intruding, treating it more as an obligation than a home.

Mabel shrugged. “Just making conversation,” she said half-heartedly, and Pacifica could tell her words had a deeper meaning.

“Don’t gimme that bull. Are you trying to set me off?”

“It might work to redirect your emotions. You can start by analysing how your negative thoughts all feed back to one source.”

“Mabel, I already know my parents were terrible. For crying out loud, they’re corporate ghouls! They basically abused me!”

“I know. But they don’t have anything to do with your life anymore. You don’t have to carry around some bitter hatred for them everywhere you go. You can just… let it go.” Mabel put her hands over her heart. “I’m not saying you have to forgive them, that would be awful of me.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes into the back of her skull. ���Oh yeah, cause it’s so easy to come to terms with! It’s alright when you reconcile with your parents. They aren’t fundamentally awful people!” She pressed her fists against her forehead. “Maybe those assholes had a point. The greedy little girl who can’t even be satisfied when everything in her life falls into place. When am I gonna get it through my thick skull that I’m a broken piece of property!” Her hands began to tremble. Her next words were choked out. “Or is even that too grandiose? Why can’t it ever be simple? Can’t I be allowed to feel this way without a sense of entitlement. Or am I a narcissist raised by narcissists?”

“Neither. You’re better than that now though!” Mabel’s voice was insistent, trying to get her to pierce through the haze of doubt. “You’re totally nice.”

“Don’t act like I’ve done a complete 180,” she spat. “I still act all superior to people. You might not see it but there are times when I treat people like dirt.”

“Like how you’re treating yourself, right now?” Pacifica recoiled as if she’d been slapped in the face. She made to give a retort but Mabel shut her up. “They’re still acting through you, your dear old mom and dad. You can’t let them Paz. Imagine how you’d react if, say, your mom insulted me.”

She chuckled weakly. “I’d probably start a shouting match.”

Mabel grinned. “That’s the Pacifica I know. Who don’t take no guff from nobody! Not even her own self-doubt! It’s never stopped you before.” Pacifica stared down through the water at herself, floating in the bubbling pool. “You can’t get trapped inside a bubble. Trust me, I’ve been there. Literally.”

“Ever since I was born I’ve been trapped,” Pacifica replied morosely. She was then hit by a counter wave of emotion, making her feel vain for treating her life in such a way. She tried to push through and verbalise. “My parents moulded me into a perfect little clone to do their bidding. I was smothered in femininity from day one, all those expensive dresses and jackets and boots. All a means to make me constantly doubt my own self-image.”

“But I thought you like wearing pretty outfits?” Mabel was struggling to keep up with all the reversal her friend was laying out.

“I do! But do I like them because of me, or because my parents forced me to like it?”

“Why does it matter? You left them behind a long time ago. They don’t get to ruin your life now they aren’t a part of it.” Mabel hit a fist into the water. “You don’t have to follow what they tried to instil in you. You didn’t when you walked out on them at 17! You didn’t when you got married to someone they’d never choose!”

“I don’t know, Mabel. It’s like I’m in quicksand with no way out. Every time I have a pang of disdain my brain makes me guilty for being so dramatic and it makes me feel even worse. I can’t even be depressed without my privilege mucking it up. I don’t think this is something you can fix with ice cream.”

“Then we’ve gotta start with something we can fix, and work our way out from there.” Mabel held her arms open, inviting her in for a hug. Pacifica wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and let herself be enveloped in a warm embrace. “I know what we can focus on.” Mabel pointed at the bird’s skull. “I get why you’re out here in the middle of the night chasing a rumour. Your family and the Corduroys - there’s bad blood there. I think you wanted to do your part to reach across the aisle, to prove you really aren’t like the Northwests who came before. Like when you pulled that lever at the party all those years ago. No wonder you’re feeling that way, with all the memories of Wendy swarming around. It must be maddening, huh?”

Pacifica broke the hug and stared Mabel in the eye. She often looked down on her friend due to a perception of lower intelligence - another symptom of the huge ego bestowed on her by her privileged upbringing no doubt. While Mabel might not know a lot of technical jargon, she could be skilled and practical, as well as keenly emotionally intelligent. That explained her cavalier attitude to certain topics this evening. She was paving the way, subtly opening up the conversation so as to lead Pacifica into being more comfortable with serious matters. As conversational strategies went it was novel, she could acknowledge that much.

She gave a stuttering laugh. “Alright Mabel. I think I’ve had enough of pouring my heart out to you. I’m ready to try whatever you have on offer.”

“If I might offer a suggestion,” Zera said tentatively, probably afraid of triggering another breakdown from Pacifica. After how she’d acted, Pacifica couldn’t blame her. “If you want to do something practical you could finish tracking down this Unshriven thing. It sounded like something you wanted to follow through to the end. Just a thought.”

“I wish I knew how to. I tried taking a swing at it but when I tried a second time my attack went straight through. Like attacking a cloud of mist. Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, you guys saw those tusks. I would hate to be on the wrong end of them.” Mabel and Zera shared uncomprehending looks, causing Pacifica to frown. “Wait, you guys did see it right? It rubber-banded over your fence right before I fell in your pool.”

Mabel glanced at the fence and pursed her lips. “Paz, there was nothing there before you blundered in out of nowhere.”

“But then- It must have been this.” She pinched the amulet between two fingers to show it to the couple. The gemstones in the empty eyes sockets once again failed to share any answers. “This was supposed to let me find the Unshriven. Corduroy had said it had special properties. It allowed me to track the creature… but then what? Fat lot of good it does me if I can’t fight it.”

Mabel scratched her chin, unsure of how to help. She was satisfied that her friend had a practical goal to help her overcome, or at least overlook, her issues for now. “If an aggressive killer draugr monkey shits in the woods but there’s no-one around to see it, was it really there?”

“It wasn’t a monkey.”

“Huh?” Mabel felt that Pacifica had taken offence to the wrong part of the statement.

“Monkeys have tails. This was an ape. Maybe that’s the point?”

“You’ve lost me completely now,” Mabel said.

Pacifica ignored her and turned the osprey skull around so the base was facing outwards rather than the top of the head. “It’s a philosophical point. If the Unshriven is a being of higher consciousness then perhaps I’ve not got a clear enough mind. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t hit it more than once? A failure of perception.”

Mabel followed her trail to its conclusion. “So if it’s some kind of 5th dimensional thingy then it sounds like you need some way to operate on the same level.”

Pacifica smiled and let the skull hang loose. “Thanks Mabel, but I doubt you can help. We probably need some kind of dream ritual from the journal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong sister, I’ve got exactly what you need.”

“Unless it’s a magic potion then I doubt it.”

Mabel waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s a potion alright.” Pacifica’s frown at Mabel’s next words was probably visible in the next state over. “Ever heard of a little something called LSD?”

[aikoiya]

LoZ: Wild - MOM (Nemma's Attire)

While Nemma's hair color is the typical Sheikah white, her eyes are deep ocean blue from her mother's side of the family, who was half-Deyan. Aside from that, her skin is a healthy tan compared to most other Sheikah of the time, making her resemble more the Impa from SS than the fairer-skinned Sheikah of Wild. She also has red face tattoos under her eyes. They underline her eyes with the outer halves being underlines with upside-down triangles & come with a pair of curved teardrops much like the Royal Family's Secret Stones.

When Nemma first left her village, she cut her hair off at the nape & it has since grown out.

At the beginning of the story, it will be about shoulder length.

It will continue to grow out through the story until it reaches at least ass length, but the ends will always have the straight edge look shown above.

Before her marriage & when out on missions after, it is normally pulled up into a top knot, held in place by Kôgai (Hair Sticks) that can also be used as daggers in a pinch, with her right bang braided into a fishtail.

As it grows longer, so will her braid & once her hair grows long enough to reach her butt, she'll regularly switch styles. Either wearing it as her typical topknot with the braided right bang, in a long braid with the right-side bang left loose, or in a style similar to her husband's, but with her right bang either being braided again or left loose.

Though, she'll keep the hair of her right bang cut to about a couple inches below her chin, really only letting it get a couple inches longer.

Topknots will also be accompanied by similar hair ornaments to what her husband wears as well as her signiture sharpened Kôgai.

And the tattoo on her shoulder is her Dokuso Shokushei mark, which identifies her as a Toxin Mistress.

---

At the beginning of the story, she'll normally wear a white traveling Yukata with red lining & a pattern of simple, red Sanke Carp swimming across it & her Kamon (family crest; a trio of Cool Safflina, a.k.a. Blacksmith Lupin flowers) in white on the back inside a red circle & a brown leather Obi cinching the Yukata closed, the symbol of the Mind's Eye imprinted into the leather or a simple navy Obi with a simple Mind's Eye.

Like this:

Or this:

The belts are from someone else's art, but I'm really just using them as an example of what I mean.

She'll often wear a woven, straw Sugegasa hat atop her head when traveling, replacing it with a Kāten Sugegasa in the desert, & a pair of practical Kitatami Setta, which are woven from rice straw, over Tabi socks on her feet.

This is what Kitatami Setta look like:

She'll switch out her Setta for Taka-Ashida Geta, which have high supports, when it rains or is otherwise poor weather.

Which look like this:

And Jika-Tabi, or Tabi boots, when she has to do hard work outside. Specifically, when she's on a job.

Example:

For the Kāten Sugegasa, it's basically a straw conehat with a sheer curtain attached to the rim that encircles the head.

@haaam-bugi made me this really amazing art! WITHOUT ME ASKING!! :D

(All I did was add the fish pattern on the yukata & adjust the tattoo on her shoulder so that you could see it in more detail. Otherwise, everything else is their work. I also asked permission if I could do this & they said yes. All she's missing are the Setta! X3 Though, her skintone isn't quite right. She's supposed to be more tanned. More like Impa from Skyward Sword or Hyrule Warriors.)

But when on a mission, she'll generally wear something not altogether different from what HW Impa wears (but less aqua & more navy), though without the odd Sheikah bikini top thing. Just give the Haori another strap. Plus, with a traditional Fukumen, a.k.a. a close-fitting mask that only covers the neck & lower half of the face. Also, it's held together by the same leather Obi that she wears over her Yukata.

However, underneath her suit, she has cloth that wraps around her breasts & reaches down to her stomach to form a Haramaki in order to improve her core strength. She wraps her chest relatively loosely in order to make her bust more manageable. Nemma's pretty busty, so they get in the way of her swings. Binding them somewhat helps to make it easier to fight.

She actually has a similar figure to Istina from Harvestella.

She also takes very good care of her nails & tends to wear a special, reinforced nail polish that she makes herself from the hooves of the Lynels she kills. This polish allows her to be able to reliably use her nails as a viable weapon in a pinch. Though, she prefers not to get blood under them. She tends to switch between the colors red, blue, & clear. Polish made from Lynel Hooves actually have a particular sheen to them that's easy to identify, which is why the Sheikah wear this polish partially as an intimidation tactic.

Also with climbing boots & climbing gloves with Han Kote (半籠手, Armored Sleeve or Gauntlet). One Han Kote (the left one) being a traditional Sheikah Jōhyō Han Kote (縄鏢半籠手, Chained Kunai Gauntlet), which she uses either as a weapon or for traversing terrain.

Think of the rope dart modification made to the Hidden Blade that Arbaaz Mir used in Assassin's Creed Chronicles: India.

Nemma's other Han Kote has a spring-loaded climbing hook hidden inside, which makes getting around much easier & can also double as a Tekkō-Kagi (手甲鉤) or hand sickle. Basically being the Hookblade from Assassin's Creed.

Once she begins to learn hand-to-hand, she'll build Tekkō (鉄甲, Knuckle Dusters) into her Kote. Though, they will be more akin to metal studs welded into the knuckles.

She'll also add Kakushi Ashiha (隠し足刃) to her Jika-Tabi, which are essentially the Hidden Footblades from Assassin's Creed as used by the Assassin, Shao Jun.

(There's just a lot of Assassin's Creed influence in her design, okay?)

Either way, all this will essentially turn her into a living weapon.

---

Anyway, Nemma's wedding attire would look something like this:

But silver instead of gold & featuring Gerudo-style orchid patterns. Also, the head veil rests over the head. Plus a few extra things that I'll explain in a minute. (Also, not my art. I do not claim it as such.)

This is sort of the orchid pattern that I was thinking of:

There, of course, would be variation. But this would be the main pattern used.

This dress, in Gerudo, is called a Màtu'kàvtéda Shàree or a wedding saree in real life. And the aqua sash that drapes over the shoulder is a Màtu'kàvtéda Bàndaràshï.

But, add on the head veil that commonly goes with a royal Moroccan Dubai wedding Kaftan in the same shade of blue as the dress. I'm calling the head veil a Màlàki Kopfab.

Except, here, it's supposed to be so long that it trails along behind the wearer the same way a wedding train does & is the same shade of blue as the Shàree above.

And add on what, in real life, is an Arabic harem face veil. This one is aqua & is called an Màtu'kàvtéda Hunfàm. This veil is meant to be worn by the bride the entire week before the wedding & only to be removed by the groom the moment before the sealing kiss. It originates from a superstition that says the bride being seen directly by anyone before the wedding will bring about a disaster within the marriage. In order to prevent the disaster, all but the groom must close their eyes or shield their vision so that the first one to see the bride as the groom's new wife is the groom himself. Doing this is said to bring about good fortune in their marriage as well as, purportedly, improving the chances of a child in the future.

It isn't true, but it's tradition by now.

It's held in place by a pair of hooks that curve around the ears so it's easy for the groom to remove.

Like this one:

Also keep in mind that all the embroidery & patterns for all these articles of clothing are designed with Gerudàn patterns instead of the patchwork mix of various Middle & South Eastern styles that is actually featured here. She'll especially like the design of the lotus-like one & other floral designs. For her wedding Shàree, she specifically requested for the patterning to be inspired by Sweetheart Orchids specifically, which is a Sheikah tradition as they symbolize a happy couple, love, abundance, sexuality, & vivifatility (both verility & fertility). She likewise requested that Ganon's clothes also feature them. To which, he acquiesced as he was rather fond of the flower seeing as she proposed to him with Sweetheart Orchid petals.

She also wears a pair of silver orchid earrings with mother of pearl petals that she made just for that day. As well as a golden pendant featuring her Kamon (family crest) which is 3 Cool Safflina.

Nemma will wear a traditional, pale Sweetheart Orchid foundation covering her face. Though, not so much so that she appears snow white, just enough to pale her skin slightly & make her appear made of porcelin. With pink, almond set style eyeshadow & layered over that, the edges of her eyelids are painted red in a hooded or close set style (see some geisha eye makeup) with a hard edge.

The outside of her eyes have sparkling silver dots or circles of eyeliner that orbit around her eyes to create crescents. At the same time, she will also wear thick, Egyptian-like sliver eyeliner. This metallic, silver eyeliner is made from Moonblooming Arguses (they grow from Voltfruit Cacti, but only bloom at night). Which, this eyeliner is a sign of status in Gerudo culture & the silver color is an indication of the fact that she is marrying into the Royal House of Drāgamīr.

Here's how her makeup will look during the wedding:

Her hair is also pulled into a low, complicated bun decorated with a lovely, delicate-looking, floral, Sheikah bridal hairpiece called a Shinpu Kanzashi (新婦簪, Bride Hair Ornament; inspired by Hanfu Ji or Chinese Bridal Hair Ornaments), featuring Sweetheart Orchids & Cool Safflinas. These are mostly Sheikah traditions. This particular Bridal Ornament was actually made by her grandfather for her grandmother, which she wore when they got married.

Nemma isn't normally the unreasonable type, but this was one of the few things she had to put her foot down on.

Her hair is also woven with silver threads as per the Gerudo tradition.

Anyway, the day after the wedding, Nemma is coronated & given her Vàtta'jï Tàj or Queen's Tiara.

It looks like this:

The oar-like protrusions that are from the chief's headpiece, go down & to the sides. And, instead of the ovular piece that sticks up from the top, that is replaced with a similar halo-like part to what TP & HW Ganondorf wears. The overall design is just much less complicated than the Chieftain Hairpiece.

I also modeled the marking on the coin-like object in the second one in a way reminiscent of the original design for the Mirror Shield in OoT before people complained.

Still a little bit of work to be done.

Anyway, all of this, except instead of gold, Nemma's attire uses silver or platinum.

Finally, after the wedding, in accordance with Sheikah tradition, both she & Ganon with have red dots tattooed between their brows. Within these dots with be hidden the swirl of each other's fingerprints.

---

One of the important parts of the wedding is something adapted from Sheikah culture, where the bride & groom dip 2 fingers into a bowl of red ink, then press the pads of their fingers to their other half's forehead. Upon the brow, right between & above the eyes. After the wedding, they go to another room to have a Sheikah tattoo artist that they'd hired for the occasion. She will tattoo the dot into their skin in such a way that, if one looks closely, you can see the impression of their new spouse's prints in red.

This becomes a permanent part of their design for the rest of the story.

---

Now for an explanation of the clothing words I used above.

Let's start off with Nemma's formal attire as queen would typically be a dark blue Shàree & Kopfab with a silver, opal, & moonstone Vàtta'jï Tàj featuring a crescent moon at the center of it & Voltfruit blossoms surrounding it, beneath the Kopfab.

A Shàree is a dress inspired by a saree, which is a Hindu dress. It generally features vibrant colors & is ankle-length. Featuring pretty patterns in gold or silver embroidery, & is made of light & airy fabric. They tend to have short sleeves & also comes with a sash, here called a Bàndaràshï, & a wide, gold or silver fabric girdle called an Àrïqna here with Gerudo emroidery. This'll be her preferred outfit to wear formally as it isn't difficult to move in. Màtu'kàvtéda Shàree, or Wedding Saree, are not much different from regular Shàree, except that the skirt reaches the floor & it's much more finely made.

A Kopfab is an opaque, colorful hooded veil made of silk with a golden or silvery-patterned embroidered border at the hem that sits perfectly upon the head without covering the face & reaches somewhere between hip & floor. The Kopfab being the traditional headdress of a Gerudo Queen. However, civilian Gerudo are allowed to wear one on their wedding days. When worn with a Shàree, it needs to be the same color as the Shàree itself, which I'll get into in a bit. Màtu'kàvtéda Kopfab are different mostly in how high quality the materials are to make them & the fact that they are long enough to trail along the floor behind the bride. Only queens & women marrying kings are allowed to wear them.

A Bàndaràshï is a strip of fabric that acts like a sash & is typically draped over one shoulder & circles around the opposite hip. Typically a different color to the Shàree to give variation. They often have gold or silver patterned borders. Non-wedding Bàndaràshï leave both arms free, unlike Màtu'kàvtéda Bàndaràshï, which are usually very long & hang over an arm to trail down to the floor.

A Màtu'kàvtéda Hunfàm is a sheer face veil much like that of an Arabic harem girl's in real life. However, in Gerudo culture, as mentioned above, this veil is supposed to be worn the entire week before the Vai's wedding day. There are, of course, exceptions for when eating & in one's room, which is where the bride is supposed to eat until the wedding.

When worn by a soon-to-be queen, the Hunfàm & Bàndaràshï are both supposed to match & be a different, yet complementary color to the Kopfab & Shàree.

As for a Vàtta'jï Tàj, it is a tiara or circlet of Gerudo make, often featuring Voltfruit blossoms & other desert iconography in its design. Worn only by queens & is fundamentally different from the complicated headpiece that a chief wears. Often made of silver or, in rare cases, platinum.

The Vàtta'jï Tàj & Kopfab are supposed to have hooks so that the Kopfab can be fastened to the Vàtta'jï Tàj & you don't have to worry about the Kopfab falling off.

Nemma wears a Shàree because she isn't a Gerudo & thus isn't as adapted to the desert as them. As a result, she requires proper covering to survive the sun in the day without severe sunburns. Though, it's extremely likely that her tan will darken over time due to living there which will make things easier.

However, due to her specific circumstances, her regular Kopfab & Shàree are both made of very high quality Bighorn Sheep wool (the Hyrule equivalent to Merino wool) rather than silk. As silk is not as good at temperature regulation the way wool is.

She, does, of course, wear the silk versions when it's important to make a good impression.

Something like this for the Shàree:

But with a wide, gold or silver Àrïqna.

There, of course, would be other formal dresses available with lots of different patterns, but for now, let's just use this one as a placeholder.

One such dress would be this:

Which, here, is called a Kafchïta, a dress of a different style. In real life, it's called a Kaftan.

When at a formal setting, such as royal functions where she needs to make a good impression, she'd wear Streshibpen. Which are Gerudo-style heeled slippers with wing-like protrusions. Basically, what a lot of the Gerudo wear in BotW. Otherwise, even when dressed as a queen in the palace, she'd largely wear sandals as they're much less prone to slippage on sand.

Nemma would have difficulty learning how to walk in Streshibpen as she prefers sensible & practical shoes, but as it'd be one of the formal dress expectations of her, she'd endeavor to learn.

Though, she'd require that the heels have blades in them & steel toes.

If she has to wear these torture devices, she's gonna weaponize them, damnit!

And, the patterns she'll mostly feature will be the sort of lotus-like Gerudo designs with many of them coming in some variety & combination of blue, aqua, green, navy, & even a smattering of pink, white, & purple.

---

Now, these generally aren't things she'd wear normally as they are more formal in nature.

For one, rather than wear her crown & Kopfab everywhere, she'd instead tend to wear her hair in her typical topknot, held in place by a silver or platinum Ebè'túijïl or hair crown, which is what I call the hair ornament that Ganondorf wears in TotK. However, she'll still wear her Kogai with sharpened, metal tips.

As for clothes, she'd have a Xularàz'ùl Thōbora for Vaien, which is basically an embroidered women's thoub. Mainly blue & silver or blue & white with a few other colors for accents, with slit bell sleeves.

As for shoes, she's more inclined to wear Shibpin, which are the flats with pointed toes from the Gerudo Vai & Desert Voe sets.

She'll also always be wearing a simple pair of earrings, one of which featuring a Gossip Stone after a certain point in the story.

—

Anyway, when out in the desert, she, of course, wears a Sheikah stealth suit, specifically modified to better survive in the desert. It's made of Bighorn Sheep wool & dyed white to reflect the sun & blend in with the environment. Though it still features the Sheikah eye, it also has the cobra hood symbol of the Gerudo as well. Add to that her climbing gloves, a Burnùs, & Gàlkhutwàïr Adhien & she's ready to survive. The boots having extra grip specially added to the soles to help with climbing.

A Burnùs being a white or beige hooded cloak with a split in the front that keeps the sun off you. And Gàlkhutwàïr Adhien, also known as Sandstrider Boots (basically just the Sand Boots), are boots made of sand seal leather with soles of Molduga hide, specifically designed to displace a person's weight evenly, thus allowing the wearer's feet to keep from sinking into the sand. She also continues to wear a traditional Sheikah Fukumen mask rather than opting for a Gerudo Shemàgh, though she goes with white here to go with the rest & this one is made of summer weight wool from Bighorn Sheep to help keep her cool in the day.

So, something of an Assassin's Creed look.

---

She would still, of course, wear traditional Sheikah attire, but she is now generally expected to put herself forth as a queen.

Such things include sleeping yukata for going to bed.

---

Also keep in mind that Nemma always has weapons on her. She is just not comfortable without a weapon on hand.

It may be overt or covert, but she always has something on her to defend herself.

---

Nemma is from a story prompt of mine called Meeting One's Match.

LoZ My Fanfic Masterlist

[the-fandom-crossroads]

Nilou = Goddess Hathor

Nilou's character design is heavily based on the Ancient Egyptian Goddess of Love Hathor. Like my previous post about Cyno I'm going to break down the larger references to the Egyptian gods these Genshin characters are based on.

First up Appearance! Nilou's headpiece has Hathor's iconic curved horns. Hathor's horns have been interpreted many ways over the years. Generally shown as a flat piece facing forward on a hat of sorts.

Now Hathor's horns make sense when drawn in hieroglyphics like this. But they make less sense when placed on a 3d subject like the statue above.

Leading to modern artists interpreting hathor's horns in other ways. Mostly one horn on either side of the head instead of a U on top of the head. Hathor is not as well known as Anubis or Ra. Meaning there are only two modern media depictions to pull from. Aaaaand the only one to show her with her horns is the really bad, white washed to hell, movie "Gods of Egypt".

As you can see the headpiece matches Nilou's. Nilou's even has the curved arch connecting the two horns in an attempt to mimic the arch of the sun disk in Hathor's horns. Nilou also has the bikini top thing going on, but that's more in reference to the Persian belly dancer stereotype. The reason Hathor has a bikini top in gods of egypt is because most ancient art of her shows her topless or at least with one tit out. Gods of Egypt decided to be boring and stay pg-13.

Of course like with Cyno and Anubis the connections don't stop at design.

Hathor is the goddess with a thousand names (joking). But the list is long she's goddess of the sky, the moon, the sun, love, motherhood, agriculture, the east, the west, providing for the dead, rare minerals/gold copper lapis lazuli, guardian of miners, incense, guardian of travelers/foreigners, cows, sycamore trees, wine, drunkenness, war, and cosmetics.

Like I said it’s a lot. Here’s the ones that fit Nilou and the dead flower goddess Nilou represents. Hathor goddess of rebirth/lotus flowers.

Nilou’s name means “blue lotus”. In Egyptian mythos the lotus represents death and rebirth and it’s common to find art of Hathor with a blue lotus flower. This is because Hathor was depicted both as a motherly goddess that welcomed you into the world and as a goddess of death that offered you food and drink in the afterlife. The OG definition of I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it.

(Pretend one of them is hathor all the hathor one's have her tits out like I said before. Since I'm cross posting this on Hoyolab no tits for you.)

Hathor is also the Goddess of Music and Dance which is Nilou's whole thing. She was also the Goddess of Joy and Gratitude. If you play Nilou's Story Quest you find she spreads happiness to all the people of the bazaar. So much so they often give her gifts in thanks.

Hathor was also credited with the creation of the Nile in some stories. Scholars list this as her being the goddess of moisture? For some reason. But really all that matters is it's some sort of water connection. Hathor is more well known as a sky goddess. The Milky way gets it's name because of the sky was considered cow Hathor and the milky way her milk. Seeing as space isn't an element in Genshin they went with water. But they still reference this connection in Nilou's character trailer.

(She's literally looking at the Milky way my guys.)

Hathor is the goddess of rare minerals and was worshiped in mines far into the Sinai Peninsula (Outside of Egypt's Borders) as a protection goddess for miners. But the rare gemstone most commonly associated with her is Lapis Lazuli. Nilou's gemstone stone decorations are most likely this stone. Lapis Lazuli has been mined in the middle east since ancient times most specifically in Isreal. But it is cheaper than Blue Sapphire the other option for Nilou's ornaments.

Lastly Hathor is known as The Eye of Ra. Enacting Ra's will/punishment on humanity. Other's have been the Eye of Ra but Hathor's story is the most infamous. It's said that once she took the form of Sekhmet she refused to stop killing humans. None of the other gods were strong enough to beat her in a fight. So they spilled Beer/Wine along the Nile, Sekhmet came and drank thinking it was the blood of her enemies. She got so drunk she past out and Ra was able to remove the blessing transforming her back into cow Hathor the gentle. There are no other stories of Hathor channeling the Eye of Ra after this occasion.

As a playable Genshin character Nilou is required to be good at combat. But it doesn't hurt to have her source material be a gentle soul with a secret blood thirsty warrior within.

So to summarize Hathor is a goddess of lotus flowers, music, dance love, joy, gratitude, moisture, the sky/milky way, lapis lazuli, protection, and war. All characteristics that can be found in Nilou. Along with a nice horn head piece.

So what do you think? Is Nilou secretly a goddess of Love? Are there any connections I missed?

Check out my Cyno breakdown Here! and Follow to find out when I post Candace's breakdown! Also Thanks for reading this monster of a post.

[hanasnx]

sw has some sort of “hot slave” fascination with ahsoka in a pretty outfit to be sold, and leia in a metal bikini as a slave—

i wish we got to see ani boy in a slave outfit. it is only fair

like,,, rots era. hair & scar & metal arm & all.

the collar & chain leash. no shirt. a black short kilt with an ornamented central flap like ramses II wore in the animated prince of egypt. you know the one.

saying, “yea i’m undercover. don’t hang around me so much you’re too pretty to be so close. they’ll get suspicious—“

i’d eat him alive. should i write about this. it’s plagued my mind

[thecameronchronicles]

Silent Night

TW: Stalker/Dark(ish/Obsessed Rafe. Language. Smut. 

SUMMARY: Rafe’s POV how he intends to rectify you giving your virtue to some Pogue…

WORD COUNT: 3000

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Silent Night

It was now or never. The nerve filtering into cowardice as I watched her set the final present beneath the tree weighed down with an excess of pointless ornaments. But just as it had been for the last three hours, I became distracted by the way she moved. But not because I craved to possess her as that could have been done at any party or any time in which she was asleep at Tannyhill just down the hallway. It was because she fascinated me and held my interest in a way no other girl ever had. Not even clad in lingerie, an idea that when paired with her was enough to send my eyes in a roll at the thought. Yet nothing deserved to be across that soft skin taunting me from the other side of glass as she made the last minute preparations on this Christmas Eve. Little did she know, she was about to give ME what I'd always wanted. 

A cliche key beneath the mat was enough to grant me access once the lights had been cut for the day's end. The sound of a shower just above a set of steps had allowed me the time I needed to drink in the atmosphere around me. Of all the times Sarah had invited her beyond our threshold, never once had I seen the inside of HER house. And it was just as much a picturesque scene as was expected in any other Kook house. A perfect tree with too many presents and decorations as gaudy as they were humorous. And my fingers came to a trace at all of them that has incorporated her. Her presents. Her pictures. Her jacket that hung over the banister as if an invitation left behind for me to find. Everything was enough to return my focus as I could have just as easily have remained in the shadows. 

A careful ascension beyond creaking wood had whittled away my confident steps forcing me slower and therefore more impatient until I crested that final step. It would take a turn and a small venture to the end of the hall before her bedroom was accessible at my fingertips, which shook in excitement. But as she crossed the portion of the door left ajar by reasons unknown, I resorted to the shadows on instincts hearing her humming some annoying pop song as I realized I'd have to introduce her to new music. Better music. 

But first, to me. 

I watched her from between the hinged and slit of the door, watching the lingerie kiss her skin as I'd never been so jealous of fabric before. A minimalist set with a single bow between her breasts and a matching one just below her navel and o was fighting the urge to palm myself flat. I'd seen her in every color bikini and yet there was something different in this. Maybe it was because the cotton of her panties wouldn't be able to hide how wet I'd make her, as I knew a suit had done before. Either way my eyes followed her throughout her nightly routine until the phone in her hands was a means of unwinding and eventual rest. 

It was now. I had to act now. Before her friends or brother came home. Before she would awaken and find a way to escape what I knew if just given a chance to show, she would never want to be without. I just needed that chance. And I knew I had to take it now. 

Opening the door slightly, the scent of her recent shower and the shampoo used, or maybe it was even the perfume or lotion, sent my eyes to close to luxuriate. The perfect combination of fruit and the promise of innocent vanilla reminded me of her. Sweet and elegant. And how I didn't want to taint her. Just train her. To me. To know me. Only me. 

Once reaching the side of her bed, I fought the carnal urges immediately at the forefront. I could easily bend her as I saw fit as I outweighed her. And yet, I wanted to care for her. Even though the flashes of her crying over my cock, a smirk breaking the tempo I knew she would be a natural to master, had pulled my fingers to play with the button of my jeans, I hesitated still. 

I wanted to take care of her. Not fuck her. She was better than that. She deserved better than that. 

My ambitions altered to the exposed skin allowed to me by her choice of pajamas. A matching silk set with candy Canes that made me smirk temporarily at her innocence while my touch teased the strap holding her modest. But I didn't want to see her naked. I mean I didn't want to JUST see her naked. I wanted to see all of her. And I wanted it to be because she wanted me to. 

Slowly, I set myself closer as I debated where to begin. I was certain she would awaken at any given shift of the bed, so I would need to move quickly. But with the way she laid, it would prove difficult for both the angle and the fact I didn't want to disrupt her. She was perfect. For all ways but one, anyhow... 

She let a pogue take that innocence over the summer. A good girl, my good girl allowed some filthy surfer rat learn those sweet moans, that singular relinquishment of unique tightness, the blood I should have had as a badge of honor for my patience. God knows I waited. But it didn't matter. Tonight she would make it up to me. 

It would be this thought of HIM touching her, of HIM kissing her, and of HIM getting to know those intimate details he didn't deserve to think about let alone have as a memory, that left me proactive. The second she adjusted to her back, I straddled her flat, her eyes shooting open as she found her hands bound by one of my own as my other came over her mouth. 

"Not. A. Fucking. Sound." Her eyes narrowed as she made the details of me in the recently disturbed slumber, adjustment made rather quickly as she spoke my name into my palm. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. She was always disobedient, pushing limits and boundaries in the form of party tricks or life's risks. But THIS was different. She was waging war against a devil, and no matter how angelic she was, she had a debt to pay and I'd come to collect. 

"Rafe?" My eyes recovered from the roll as I lowered my hand to her jaw. 

"The only time you're allowed to make a sound is when I make you come." Her eyes widened as her lips parted to speak, finding the interruption of my hand tightening her cheeks into quietude. 

"Then you can scream all you want. God knows you'll have no other choice..." Her eyes narrowed as she watched me use my belt to bind her hands together, but not to the headboard. I wanted her to have some freedom, at least this was what I told myself as I honestly just loved to watch that hope fade behind her eyes when she realized it had finally come to this. Those teasing glances and shy smiles as she pulled hair behind her ear. Those damn swimsuits. That pogue. All of it would be amended tonight. And soon. 

"Please-" I silenced her with a kiss even if my palm desired a more blunt strike. If she were any other girl, I would have acted on it. But she was too flawless to be marked with such ugly red swelling. At least where everyone could see it. 

I offered my tongue for a moment, savoring her response, as she would hesitate before joining it at the second I would withdraw. 

"Next time you don't wanna listen, it'll be my cock." A mic of exhilaration and fear illuminated behind her eyes. 

"One sound and this will end rough for you. I want rk be gentle...but either way, I'll get what I came for..." Her eyes narrowed to question me. 

"You really don't know why I'm here?" She shook her head slowly, obeying in remaining silent, but considering risking a potential bluff as I'd only shown her my reservation. I knew this. I didn't need her to tell me. She wanted to see if I would make good on my threats. But a part of her loved to obey...at least for now... 

"Because I was the one who was patient. I was the one exercising self-restraint and then you go and give yourself to that pogue...like he would even know what to do with you?!" My jaw clenched. 

"Did he even make you come? Did he know where to touch you or curve his fingers? Or was it is tongue because he couldn't last inside that tight little pussy, huh?" I was more aggressive than I wanted to be with her. But the idea of anybody touching what was mine was enough to disregard that kindness. 

"Just nod. Did he make you come." When she didn't, I immediately understood why. She knew if she agreed that it would anger me further. And if she disagreed then the anger would exist for a different reason entirely. But with the certain fear behind her eyes, I knew it was because he had. The asshole got to know... 

"Well. For that, I'll just have to make you forget he has." My hands were quick at her hips, removing the shirts and revealing those panties to me. The cute little bow flicked by the end of my finger as she blushed to witness my descent. 

"Did he use his tongue?" She hesitated again as I hit the bed, forcing her to answer me. She nodded. 

"Was THAT good?" She slowly bowed her head. 

"Well I promise you..." My fingers hooked around the edges of her panties, pulling them loose as she chilled beneath my touch. 

"I'm not going to be good. I'm going to be it. No comparison." I teased my lips down her stomach until setting each of her legs over my shoulders. One final look up to her, wrists bound and pulled in a bend towards her cheek, making me smirk at my perfect and behaved girl. 

I rewarded her obedience in slow strides of my fingers complimented by the flicks of my tongue at her clit. The poor girl may have come for someone else but it wasn't enough to affect her against me. She was still trembling to each and every one of my touches, allowing me the consolation as if I'd been the first. 

"God, you're soaking me-" 

"I'm sorry-" Her cheeks paled. 

"I'll let that slide because you sound so pretty apologizing. But next time, I'll have to give you a reason to remember to stay quiet." I returned to my convictions, tongue and fingers bringing her to that edge as I basked in her response to me. 

Her taste. Sweet and salty in perfection. A hint of vanilla and even a bit of sin in how she fought against her body, but I was victorious against those advances. 

Her moans. I would work every second of every day between her thighs to hear that symphony. Hell, I'd do it even if she were silent. 

Her motions. Erratic and accepting of me despite the way she fought me. Her eyes screwing shut or pulling into a roll as I scoffed to see her come undone above and around me. 

But she wouldn't have the chance yet. Not until I got to have everything he did. For that, I slowed my tongue and removed my hand, now pulling it to her breast. Softer skin hardened at the center by an excited nipple and I needed more. Both hands were now stationed on either one as I rose to taste her. Salt from pending sweat came to the tip of my tongue mixing with that which remained from my endeavors, as I watched her over me. Her face was in pure bliss. Pleasure taunting her and my body weighing her in place, and she relished in it just as I had in touching her. 

"Please..." I clenched my jaw as I noticed her hands were in the direction of my seam. 

"You wanna play with me too? Wanna get a feel for what is gonna make you come, is that it?" 

"Plesse, Rafe...I'm so wet." 

"And so disobedient-" She was positioned in quick succession from the comfortable rest made of her back and again the headboard with my clothes removed and in that preparation behind her. As much as I had exercised self control in the years or even minutes leading up to this, I needed more. I needed her. I deserved it. And I was gonna take it. 

"Rafe-" I pulled her hair harshly, courtesy damned in her disregard to even try to remain silent. 

"Oh my-" 

"You want me to make you come and still have some ability to walk, you're gonna shut the hell up." She stained, leading me to ball up the panties discarded at her side, and use them as assistance for this. Even if there was no reason behind it as we were alone within the cover of the hour and the isolation, making her bend to me had made that moment that much more worth it for me. 

I wrapped a hand around her neck, tightening to keep her quiet, releasing as she began to shake or the feeling of her pulse was worrisome at my thumb. Breath play was my own foreplay, and I lived to make her breathe or stop breathing for me, but only in short interruptions. Because I much preferred the heavy breathing in the return of my merciful release. 

"You want to come don't you? I can feel it and I’m not even inside of you yet..." 

"Plesse..." 

"Only because you asks so pretty.." I forced her against the headboard as it battered into the wall. 

"One fucking sound and I'll brand my name on that ass do no pogue-so you won't have to worry about anyone else even trying to touch what's mine. Might do it anyway for when you wear those bikinis...walk around your room with those windows open...where anyone can see you-" 

"Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to see you? You don't think your tease need enough?" I asked into her ear between thrusts as she just rested her head against my shoulder. The most beautiful weight making me guilty for being so rough. At least it would have if she didn't clench around me in enjoying it just as much. 

"Fuck!" I growled behind clenched teeth, my head falling over her, before I took her neck back into my grasp. 

"I want to hear how loud you can be for me. I want Maybank and all his little pogue friends to know who is fucking you like this. So when you come...say my name, won't you, sweetheart?" 

"Rafe..." 

"Good girl. Not too dumb by my cock yet...means we still have work to do, but don't worry, we'll get there..." Her eyes pulled into a roll I saw in my peripheral vision as I pulled her hand to the headboard sending the second hand follow. Our fingers interlaced as I kept her in place, my other hand focused on her clit. 

"Right there-" 

"Really think you have to fucking tell me?" I spat behind her. "Think I don't know how to make you come? I've already edged you more times than you've disobeyed me...which you will STILL pay for." I reminded her of my words sharpening as I was deeper and faster than before. 

"Rafe Rafe Rafe!" She spoke my name for mercy, a slow pace of my hips adding where my fingers had remained in quick succession. 

"Please don't stop. I need it...." 

"And yet you can't keep that pretty mouth quiet, can you, baby? If you didn't take me so good here," I applied pressure to her clit, "I'd already be coming down your throat. Fuck, I'd be so sore and raspy...your cheeks red and wet from cryinf..." I growled at the thought. 

"You are gonna make me come quietly. And then you're gonna get on your knees. And then maybe you'll get to-" She grinned. 

"Anything but a nod and you won't even get the consideration." She nodded as I worked her back against me. A varied hold on her throat in continued breath play before as this touch faded to her hips and back to her clit, my hands hungry to know all of her. More importantly, to erase him before me. Because I knew for certain there wouldn't be anyone after me. 

"Knees." I spoke as I guided her while I teetered on that edge, satisfaction taunted by her lips as I appeased us both by setting myself behind her smile. 

"Good girl. Finally being quiet." I teased as she gagged but took me in stride. Leaving some point she made to herself before I spilled at the vacation of her tight little throat. I continued my praise before she offered small pleas as my hand wrapped around her neck and my fingers were irrationally swift in their motionings. Bending to hit that sensitive cavern and withdrawing to edge her continuously, my name belted from between moans and needy wants. I watched every action of her body as I pulled her to the edge once and for all, allowing her the release as she gave it as I'd hoped. 

"Oh my God..." She looked at the mess she'd left as I smirked. 

"I-" 

"Didn't it feel good?" I asked lowering over her as she had propositioned herself on her elbows as I cleaned off  her thighs with my thumbs and brought her to my lips. 

"What are you-" She questioned while watching me spit that collected cum onto her swollen sex, left battered by me. 

"If it takes the whole night, so be it..." 

"I did what you wanted-" 

"Wrong sweetheart, I'm still waiting for you to be quiet. So until you can come quietly...I'll keep fucking going..."

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @belcalis9503 @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf

[bikinibottommall]

🍞🍟Food in Bikini Bottom Collection🍦🥤

Do you want to order something?

[anon-e-miss]

The War's Bride

Prowl stood on the small pedestal as the detailer and her assistants spun about him. They held lengths of silken cloth against his protoform and debated their futures. Already, he was armoured, such as you could call it that. It would not protect him from anything. The bikini cut girdle covered his array, and nothing else. It did not even cover his aft segments but cut between them; he found it odd feeling armour. His chestplate ended just under his wells and tightly followed their shape. The thin black and white metal was inlaid with fine gems. It was the armour of a Polyhexian Bride. A bride was meant to be an Omega. He was neither Polyhexian nor was he Omega but he had been chosen from the Praxian host to go in bonding to the Polyhexian King of the Torus States to cement the peace between their lands. That Prowl was an Alpha, as their king was, had not troubled the Polyhexians and so, Prowl was to be an Alpha’s bride. From General to Ornament, it was quite a twist in fate.

“Yes, this is the one,” Hotwire, the detailer, declared, holding up a linen whiter than snow.

They placed a belt of gold inlaid with red and white crystals on his hips and draped panels of that linen over his front and back. The same linen was clasped to his shoulders and made to fall under his doorwings, already cover in gold mesh that was strung with crystals. Sleeves of the same linen fell from cuffs on his upper arms and connected to bands on his wrists. He was made to kneel so they could put the strung crystals on his chevron and connect the veil to it. The train was so long, Prowl thought it would be unmanageable but then, he was not meant to walk far, certainly not with the heels outfitted to his peds. Prowl did not dare move less he trip and the the linen, or the cuffs smear the ornate paint that had been applied to his protoform. Only the detailing on his face could not be smudged. Fine dots and line marked his face, the etchings inlaid with gold. They were the symbols that would mark him forever, whatever armour he wore, that Prowl was a bride. He had no idea what any of the symbols meant but the detailer had been very precise in her orders.

“The picture o’ a perfect bride,” Hotwire declared. “Surely fit for a king.”

There would be concubines, in time, Prowl knew. The Polyhexian king would no doubt have a harem of them to give him the heirs he would need to secure his dynasty. He could not be expected to gain them from an Alpha bride. Prowl looked at his servo, at the delicate paint that ran over the back of his digits, drawing attention to his claws which were also painted gold. The Alpha had always kept them capped; long claws were a status symbol for Omegas, not Alphas, to show how well they were looked after. If an Omega’s claws were chipped or rough, or filed down, it showed they were expected to perform manual labour.  Prowl supposed his would be kept long and uncapped from now on.

He could not deny that he felt cyber-butterflies in his fuel tank as he was escorted to the litter upon which he would be carried to the temple. Prowl sat stiffly on the cushioned throne as he was carried down the road. Dancers, trumpeters and drummers led his way and mechanisms lined the road. Alongside his litter, groommecha threw coin into the crowd as guards in dazzling armour followed. This was his dowry, not paid to the king but to the citizens of Polyhex. It would pay for feasting for an orn in celebration of the bonding. He saw sparklings jostled by the excited crowds and he looked down to the groom closest to him.

“Lay coin in the palm of every sparkling and youngling you see,” he ordered. “See that none is robbed.

The groom did as he was asked and Prowl was pleased to see the young receive a share of the boon of his dowry. He was both fascinated by and detached from the spectacle of his procession. Prowl had spent his adult forms largely in the background, overseeing and directing battles. His strategies had earned him accolades from the Crown for a period, though his methods had not earned him great love from his soldiers. Generals who led from the front tended to earn the love of worship of their subordinates. They also died in greater number and Prowl’s best work was done when he could see everything around him. He had never been able to find the perfect balance. Prowl thought he would have made a better scholar, perhaps than a commander, hiding behind his tomes.

Now he would rust as a bride. His litter was lowered to the ground and as the band struck a lively chord, Prowl walked gingerly along a deep blue carpet as he made his way into the temple. The king of Polyhex, Jazz of Staniz, waited at the altar, its surface draped with cloth. Curtains were drawn back and at the sight of them, Prowl flushed. This was where the bedding would happen, where this king would make him his bride in frame and spark. The temple was filled with the elite of Polyhex, their allies and Praxus. Delicately, Prowl walked past them and made his way to his groom. Priests spoke blessings in an ancient tongue. Prowl stood tall next to his groom, the king of Polyhex would have been shorter than Prowl without the heels and with him the difference in their height was that much more distinct. The priests called for Prowl to take his place on the altar. As the curtains closed around it, separated Prowl and his royal groom from their audience, Jazz pulled back his veil and kissed him gently.

Jazz unclasped Prowl’s chestplate and set it aside. He did the same for Prowl’s bikini girdle. Nakedness did not trouble Prowl but in general but this was a different dynamic than he had ever faced. His royal conjunx cupped his wells as he kissed him. On the other side of the gossamer curtains, the bonding guests and priests waiting, singing psalms and burning incense. Prowl willed himself to relax as his kingly conjunx touched his frame. The paint smudged as Jazz, his conjunx, traced the symbols and Prowl realized it was intentional. It seemed like the paint had been a great deal of work for such a limit show. Jazz’s touch slowly but not so slowly grew Prowl’s charge and he moaned softly against the king’s lipplates. He felt his conjunx smile. His servo was between Prowl’s legs; Jazz stroked his node and behind his seal, Prowl felt his valve grow wet and he flushed. Of course, as an Alpha, Prowl had made some use of his spike but his valve had never been touched. His flush darkened as Jazz stroked his folds as they swelled and bloomed away from his sealed centre.

“Relax,” Jazz whispered in his audio. “I’ll break yer seal with my digits, so I can prepare ya better. It’d be a bad omen if I tore ya on Primus’ altar.”

It was a fair concern. Prowl shivered as his spike began to pressurize as Jazz continued to fondle his valve. Alpha valves did not lubricate the same; neither did they stretch as easily as Omega valves. More preparation was required to prevent damage. Jazz lowered his helm to Prowl’s well and kissed and then sucked Prowl’s nozzle. There was a wet sound as Jazz’s digits broke passed his outer seal and stopped just within Prowl’s untouched core. It did not hurt but it felt strange to have these digits inside of him. Prowl panted with increasing force as Jazz sucked and mouthed his nozzles at the same time as he gingerly tested Prowl’s tight valve. He stroked a cluster of sensory nodes and biolights at the roof of Prowl’s valve and the Alpha bride gasped as his valve tensed and a rush of lubricants sprayed from his centre. His spike stiffened against his belly but that did not seem to bother his groom.

“Good,” Jazz purred as he massaged that spot within Prowl valve, causing his valve to lubricate to an obscene degree. The king sank his digits deeper into Prowl’s valve, stretching them apart as he tested Prowl’s elasticity. “So responsive. So wet.”

Prowl watched as Jazz stroked the length of his turgid, Alpha spike with the bride’s own lubricants. His length glistened with them and still the king pressed his digits deep into Prowl’s tender core and gathered more lubricant. The bride’s jaw fell open ever so slightly at the sight of the behemoth the other Alpha was lining up to his tiny valve. Jazz lifted Prowl’s legs from where they had been dangling over the altar and held them up as he made the first push in.

“Ah!” Prowl gasped in shock as his valve was breached by so thick a spike.

His folds hugged Jazz’s girth as Jazz stood patiently still. Prowl wriggled his hips as he tried to adjust but he knew more was coming, he could see the vast majority of the other Alpha’s spike remained outside of his frame and he gasped like a cyberfish out of energon. Slowly, the king rocked his hips and work more of his great length into Prowl’s small, narrow channel. An Omega’s valve channel was naturally deep but Prowl’s was not. Jazz physically stretch him to his natural limits and still beyond. An Alpha’s plug was far firmer than an Omega’s but with only a fraction of his spike buried in Prowl valve, Jazz popped his plug and plunged his spike into Prowl’s gestational tank. It was, like Prowl’s valve, undersized but as Jazz began to actively frag his tank, battering his walls, Prowl’s internals stretched and shifted. Jazz forced every last micrometer of his spike in Prowl’s tender frame, making him ache with fullness. Faced with Jazz’s spike, Prowl’s valve was made to stretch, to lengthen until all that remained, pressed against Prowl’s taunt folds was the other Alpha knot.

They could surely hear Prowl over the psalms they sang, as he cried and squealed as he was remade on the other Alpha’s spike. His wells bounced on his chassis as Jazz took his due. Prowl’s jaw hung open as he gasped and grunted as the king sawed his spike in and out of him. The incredible ache as his frame was forced to shift and to stretch to take Alpha spike made Prowl sob and shake. Tears fell from his face and snot from his olfactory ridge as the other Alpha thoroughly dominated him. There was pleasure in the agony, however and, Prowl’s peds curled as the sensations overwhelmed him and Prowl overloaded with a cry even as he sniffled. He wailed, shrill and broken, as Jazz broke him on his knot and locked them together. Prowl shattered as he overloaded, his spike sprayed his belly with transfluids.

His belly, already bulging just with the king’s spike, swelled up as his small gestational tank was filled with Jazz’s spend. Prowl sobbed, overstimulated, overwrought as Jazz’s reservoirs emptied into his belly and forced his gestational tank to expand as the Alpha’s knot prevented even a drop of transfluid from escaping Prowl’s aching valve. Jazz bared his spark and Prowl mirrored him. As Jazz brought them together, their coronas merging, Prowl’s gamma cluster was ground against his knot. Even as Prowl’s spark meshed with the other’s, Prowl felt his nodes and biolights flash and his optics rolled back as he shattered again, overloading, seemingly endlessly as the other Alpha merged with him. He was limp, utterly strutless before Jazz slowly withdrew his spike and spark. Prowl was dazed and exhausted and he could not imagine how he was to be expected to walk.

“We ain’t done just yet, Lovely,” Jazz crooned, helping him sit up. “Still got the rest o’ the ceremony and then the feast.”

“Oh Primus,” Prowl moaned.