#yellow triangle bikini

[ckret2]

I know that this is probably because you don't render Bill's body hair (you specifically mentioned his unshaved legs in the text!), but for some reason I'm disappointed that we don't see any fuzz poking from the bikini. Not, like, for sexual or scandal reasons, it just... feels like he'd be showing fuzz. It's so hard not to if you don't shave. Possibly intentionally, if it let him put another yellow triangle on his body.

Yeah, that's a detail I specifically thought about. I assume that Gravity Falls is much like the rest of the US, in that the women shave/wax their legs, pits, and bikini lines, and the vast majority of the men don't.

So, since Bill doesn't shave either, I figure that (after excluding beards & chest hair) he looks exactly as hairy as the average man in Gravity Falls. Such as the hair on the pits, groins, and legs of all these men:

Notice that (minotaur fur aside), all their pits, legs, and happy trails are baby-smooth.

When Gravity Falls wants to indicate EXCESSIVE hairiness, they do it through chest hair and, rarely, arm hair, on occasion making that hair look as thick as fur:

And that's it. (Notice that in the fire hydrant scene, which was used specifically as a "Dipper Wishes He Was This Grown Up & Masculine" scene: still no pit hair.)

Manotaurs aside, I was only able to find two examples of men depicted with leg hair. (And, in Sprott's case, maybe pit hair, though it's ambiguous.)

In both of these cases, the leg (and pit) hair are drawn on as jokes about how disgusting these men's near-naked bodies are.

I doubt that every male resident & tourist in a rural Oregon town waxes his pits & legs. Stan, the Manotaurs, America guy, the cops, Old Man McGucket who lives in a junkyard?? They are not shaving their pits. All the men pictured above probably have normal quantities of body hair; they just aren't illustrated in the show, because that's a detail the show decided wasn't significant to illustrate—like irises, or fingernails, or half the characters' ear folds.

The only time men's body hair is illustrated is to indicate that it's excessive and the only time it's added to pits or legs is to indicate that it's disgusting.

I did my research before deciding how to draw Bill! Based on the visual language that the show uses, if I had drawn his body hair—pits, legs, bikini line in any combination—I would have indicated that he's hairier than everyone else in town, and that it's disgusting enough to warrant rendering in greater detail than anybody else's body hair.

And going "HEY EVERYBODY! LOOK AT HOW THE CHARACTER WITH TITS DIDN'T WAX HIS BIKINI LINE!! ISN'T IT UNIQUE AND NOTEWORTHY HOW HE DIDN'T WAX HIS BIKINI LINE? EVERYBODY CHECK OUT ALL THAT HAIR POKING OUT! THIS SURE IS WAY MORE NOTEWORTHY AND DISTRACTING ON A CHARACTER WITH TITS THAN IT WOULD BE ON ANY CHARACTER WITHOUT TITS, SINCE WE NEVER BOTHER TO DRAW THEIR HAIR—BUT LOOK AT THIS ONE'S HAIR! IT'S WAAAY MORE ATTENTION-GRABBING THAN IT WOULD BE ON SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY!"

... is the exact opposite of what I want to do.

And I offer that as free advice to other artists, because this is something I keep seeing artists do: if you're giving a character a detail that isn't usually depicted in your chosen art style—body hair's a really common example—ask yourself if you're adding that detail on to every character that has that detail. If you are, great! But if you aren't, and if it turns out it's only one or two characters whose body hair you've fixated on... maaaybe ask yourself why, and what signal you're sending by highlighting that detail with them and only them.

[joyinks]

Zeta Marciana

Nickname(s): Marshy

Age Pre Time-Skip: 23

Age Post Time-Skip: 25

Gender: Woman

Race: Human from Medichiara

Birth Date: March 4

Star Sign: Pisces

General Appearance: forest green hair, pale yellow-toned skin, yellow-hazel eyes, pink lips, romanesque nose, pointy chin, leafy eyebrows.

Pre Time-Skip: toga (pale green) with brown tank top one-piece underneath, long brown glove on her right arm with the ouroboros mark in gold, gladiator sandals. Hair is styled long with bangs, and the front of her hair pulled back.

Post Time-Skip: green feather epaulet on her left shoulder, attached to a gold chain attached to a black ribbon; long brown glove on her right arm with the ouroboros mark in gold; brown and gold ouroboros corset; black leather belt, denim short shorts with the pocket hanging out; knee-high leather boots in pale green to match the feather epaulet. Hair is styled in a jellyfish cut that is held up in two cat-ear buns.

Additional Outfits: blue and black pajama onesie that has a snake tongue hood and tail, prison garb: black and white striped long-sleeved shirt and shorts with her prison inmate number 1269, the most revealing white swimsuit you can wear without revealing your parts (triangle bikini).

Personality: born sexy yesterday and absolutely doesn’t know it. She wouldn’t admit it outside of private quarters either so she’s a troublemaker.

Strengths: sexy, nimble, dextrous Weaknesses: she could not kill a fly even if it threatened her life

Likes: medichiarazzi culture, fine art, wine, bath houses, snakes, gold jewelry (bougie bitch has a Prada handbag but if you ask her for it she is giving it to you). Dislikes: wealthy attitudes, being embarrassed, people who don’t respect your privacy (she keeps to herself and she doesn’t want to keep up appearances or take advantage of others).

Habit(s): bites the nails on her right hand when she’s nervous or embarrassed (this is why she wears a glove, she chews to the nail bed).

Fear(s): losing her family and by extension, the community she loves Dream(s): to protect Medichiara from becoming Celestial Dragon property; for the people of Medichiara to be free

Love Interest(s): Sabo

Family: Tia Livi (Aunt Liv), Nona (Grandma)

Friend(s): Koala, Ivankov, Inazuma, Morley, Bello Betty, Karasu, Hack, etc

Enemies: Celestial Dragons and the World Government, specifically Green Bull

Birthplace: Medichiara

Back Story: it might end up being fanfiction

Epithet(s): The Infinite Serpent

Occupation(s): Inside Girl (she’s the woman in a heist who gets the thief in the door) for underground markets in Medichiara pre-timeskip, front line combatant (infiltrator) for the Revolutionary Army post-timeskip

Affiliation(s): Medichiara - South Blue, Joker/The Underground, Impel Down, Newkama Land, The Revolutionary Army

Bounty: 690,000 Beri (Current)

Devil Fruit: Mythical Zoan Hebi Hebi no Mi model Sekai Hebi

Haki: Conqueror’s (All three)

Weapon(s): fangs in snake form, tail in snake form, throwing knives

Other Skill(s): she’s have to be extremely pressed to seduce someone, but she def could in a pinch okay, maybe only under dire circumstances

Flaw(s): idiot with a special interest in fine art, she’d trade a limb not to break a poneglyph or other such rare historical, cultural, or artistic item and that’s how she ends up arrested

The last two here were drawn with some screenshot backgrounds from the one piece anime and the pokecharms trainer card maker to help me mimic the style... take that how you will. Thanks for reading all my OC ramblings.

[razzafrazzle]

the rivals to the mtn dykes..... the dykeritos..... credit to @bromantically for coming up with this and also just for being swag

[image description: a drawing of two original characters both based on dorito flavors. the first is nacho cheese, any pronouns, who is a thin dark-skinned woman with short choppy dark brown hair with orange on the bottom. they are wearing triangular orange sunglasses, orange triangle-shapped earrings, a red and black crop top with an orange triangle on it, red sweatpants with an orange triangle on one knee, a black belt with gold chains attached, and a pair of black heeled boots. the second is cool ranch, he/they, who is a fat olive-skinned person with a blonde and blue undercut and stubble. he is wearing a blue bikini top with a mesh shirt over it, glittery blue shorts, blue combat boots, and a blue jacket with a yellow triangle pattern on the sleeves. he has noticeable body hair, has stretch marks, is wearing lots of gold jewelry, and has blue eyeshadow on. there are notes around the characters that say that nacho cheese has read homestuck, that they are both good dancers, and that cool ranch speaks in ASL. end id]

[britnispears]

logging onto tumblr via a computer after years of not... It doesn't feel like returning home, as it was just a 2D space I starred at for hours on end once upon a time...it's a new 2024 feeling- to miss a website that has not been revamped or had a comeback, one that has remained just the way it always was aside from a few new features. And I'm not 17 anymore where it's expected that I waste hours on here. It's a time capsule of everything I have felt, ever. Everything I obsessed over when I had no one to share it with. But unlike a time capsule buried in the ground, I can't hold these quotes or photos or dreams - they come in feelings only. Nothing on here physically aged, the quotes, if on paper would be yellow now, the photos might have stains. It's not like when Myspace disappeared and attempted to come back in less desirable conditions. It's also not like Facebook, where I frequently posted pictures of myself or events that happened in real life. Here, events happened and there are photos of those events on my blog, but they didn't happen to me, I just wish they did. Or I wish they didn't if they're quotes about depression and grief. This blog is like the inside of my brain, untainted by fear someone I know in real life would see it. It's a diary I didn't have to physically write or cut photos out for. I didn't have to go on Google or Pinterest and search specifically "photo of Las Vegas", find a decently aesthetic picture and glue it on paper and say "I wanna go here!" to only myself, where no one else would see. No, I actually was probably influenced by the strangers I followed, who happened to like a picture of a casino enough to repost it, to which I ironically saw and also enjoyed enough to think to myself... hmm I wanna go there. And the algorithm wasn't trying to hard to sway me. Here, anything I saw was all up to what my followers liked- it was authentic. Yes, sometimes in relation to traditional media like TV shows and music I would initiate that process and search that piece of media and find accounts who shared similar interests as me, but usually I got more than I bargained for based on who I was that week (;)). One week I wanted to be like those tan, skinny girls who wore triangle bikini's, the next I wanted to be a hot pink baddie with diamond butterflies around my neck, the next I reblogged cows and dreamed of being a writer on a farm in Pennsylvania. I was unpredictable and finding myself. My mutuals were online at 12AM, and so was I- number of likes, searches in my history were all incredibly inconvenient. Mutual, you were online, and so was I and we liked similar things, so we influenced each other before social influencers got profit off of it. We hid behind photos of celebrities we admired. It was all for fun and sharing a piece of ourselves with the world along with better understanding ourselves- without thinking of it that way. But I'm thinking of it that way now, and maybe I'm romantasizing social media addiction, but I'd say this website had a lot of say in who I am now. And I think I'm more inclined to follow my dreams because I frequently day dreamed and saw others succeed. I think I have a deeper appreciation for some things than I would have, had I not been on here.

[themetalvirus]

my gender:

giant buff orc in a pink bikini

little sailor boy with rosy cheeks standing on the dock on his birthday with an oversized lollipop

yellow equilateral triangle rotated slightly to the left

big steel toe boots and pink tulle skirt and silly halloween mask

[laybee104857ilyouo]

So hi I’m just saying people who are haters Squidbob , so if you don’t like the ship it’s fine but I’m telling it’s ok it’s just a cartoon show so ya don’t get angry at me but I’m gonna list the eps that have squidbob

20,000 patties under the sea

23-24 truth or square

Pizza delivery episode

Dying for pie

A day without tears

A krusty koncessionaires

Are you happy now?

Band geeks

Breath of fresh squidward

Bubblebass’s tab

Bulletin board

Eek! An urchin!

Spongebob you’re fired

Funny pants

Good neighbors

Hello bikini bottom

Hiccup plague

Bottle burglars

House fancy

Yeti crabs

Krab borg

Krusty towers

Kwarantined krab

Love that squid

Two thumbs down

Larry the floor manager

Mermaid pants

Mimic madness

House worming

Mind the gap

Missing identity

Mustard o mine

Pat the dog

Out of the picture

Boating buddies

Pineapple rv

Manray returns

Plankton paranoria

Restraining spongebob

Fiasco

Sanitation insanity

The sewers of bikini bottom

Shark vs. Pods

Copybob dittopants

Skill crane

Snooze you lose

Krusty katering

Spin the bottle

Spongebob in random land

Larry’s gym

Spongebob’s big birthday blowout

Spongebob’s last stand

The check up

Squid baby

Squid defense

Squid plus one

Squid’s visit

Squidbob tentaclepants

Squiditis

Squids on a bus

Squidwood

Squidnoir

Abrasive side

Ear worm

The bikini bottom triangle

The ghost of plankton

two faces of squidward

Spongehenge

Under the small top

Squidward sick daze

Unreal estate

Code yellow

Wishing you well

Mall girl pearl

Whale watching 

Artist unknown 

SpongeBob on parade 

Yellow pevement

Abandon twits 

Boss for a day

[darkspine10]

GF Fanfic - Ego-Death

Tangled Roots (27,062 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 5/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

Note: The music which inspired this chapter was a sitar piece composed by Jim Sullivan for the Space 1999 episode, The Troubled Spirit (aired 1976). I found it quite memorable, and recommend checking it out to add to the mood.

“And through here… tada!”

Pacifica entered into a cramped room with octagonal wood-panelled walls. “Oh wow. A tiny cupboard.” It was cramped enough with the two of them, let alone if Zera had been present. She had bowed out for the night, probably impatient for Pacifica to leave so she and her wife could get back to their private evening.

After drying off from her second soak of the evening Pacifica had re-dressed, making sure that the old fur hat hadn’t suffered any permanent water damage. She continued to clutch Wendy’s hat in one hand, strangely unwilling to leave it lying around to get lost in Mabel’s home. Her jacket was still soaked through, despite its promised waterproof material. In any case the right sleeve was little more than ragged shreds. She’d been very grateful to get out of the bikini top, and since she didn’t care about appearances around Mabel, hadn’t bothered to put her bra back on.

The t-shirt above was now pleasantly dry. It was white with green around the neck and sleeves. Several varieties of trees were illustrated on the front, with their scientific nomenclature listed out beside them. It was the only good purchase from the souvenir shop of a tourist trap she’d visited with Mason as part of a circuit around all of the local attractions of Oregon beyond the Falls. The trip had been described by Mason semi-seriously as ‘checking out the competition’. He’d bought the shirt for her as a gift. ‘So he’d always be close to her heart’, he’d added with a wink. Amidst the old growth redwoods, oaks, and maples on the shirt was, obviously, Pinus Ponderosa.

For her part, Mabel hadn’t bothered to change out of her bikini, other than wrapping her towel around her shoulders as a makeshift cape. She shook her head, sending water droplets flying into Pacifica’s face. With her best attempt at a performer’s voice, Mabel wagged her finger and said, “Ah ah ah, surely by now, Paz, you realise that appearances can be deceiving. Voila!”

Tugging on on a velvet rope, Mabel caused a set of curtains arranged in a triptych to slide open. Pacifica stared aghast at a trio of tapestries depicting a familiar yellow triangle floating above scenes of unending deprivation and horror. “So you decided when decorating your new house that a critical feature, before painting the bathroom walls even, would be to erect a shrine to Bill Cipher? Have you gone completely round the bend?”

“It’s not a shrine worshipping Bill, dummy. These tapestries are just sick as hell.” Arranged on shelves beneath each of the three tapestries were an array of arcane objects. Mabel cradled a pyramidal prism in her hand but there were also scrolls and spell books, quill pens, and even a brass orrery. Mason would probably have concocted a study like this, if Pacifica had been willing to let him remodel their house, though she doubted he would have endorsed this subject matter. Mabel being the architect behind its design seemed to stretch credulity.

Pacifica knelt down to examine one of the tapestries, noticing a discolouration around the base. Some of the patterned fabric was obscured by black splotches. “Was this burned?”

Mabel guiltily returned the prism to its place in the tableau. “I kinda pulled it out of a fire. A lot of this stuff comes from Grunkle Ford’s old relic collection. Back from when he was being tricked by Bill into building the portal. After Weirdmageddon we made a big bonfire to get rid of all that nasty junk.”

“But you had your eyes on a fetching demon tapestry? Nothing you do is normal, is it?”

“That’s the way I like it.”

The other two tapestries featured illustrations that less obviously matched the dream demon, rendered in more abstract tones of red and black. One on the far right caught Pacifica’s eye. There was no top hat or arms attached to this grey triangle, and the serpent-like slitted eye was blood crimson. Beneath the ominous symbol were prostrated figures, cowering under the branches of a burnt tree and surrounded by piles of bones. “I swear I’ve seen some of these designs before.”

“That’s cause you probably have,” Mabel said, a light crimson colour rising in her cheeks. “I cribbed these two tapestries off of McGucket.”

Pacifica snapped her fingers. “Of course, they used to hang in the Northwest mansion. The southwest corridor to the drawing room if I’m not mistaken.”

“You have a good memory, probably.” Mabel shrugged. “All I know is your parents used to own them.”

Pacifica failed to stifle an involuntary shudder. The thought that her parents would willingly collaborate with such an evil presence briefly passed through her mind, before she dismissed it equally swiftly. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in it. You know what this town is like with triangles.” Over all the centuries of his involvement in mortal affairs Bill’s presence had seeped into the wider culture. Even as a kid she’d seen yellow triangles graffitied on bridges or etched into countertops. It was endemic. “I reckon this is old Modoc Indian weave-work. I’ve seen some similar patterns before. If my dad ever had anything to do with Cipher he renounced it all after what that monster did to him. I still get nightmares about that gruesome face.”

“Well that’s why we’re here. To get rid of all those pesky nightmares, anxieties, and postpartum depressive episodes!” Mabel put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, then leant in to whisper in her ear. “Between us sisters, he still freaks me out too. The worst nightmares are the ones he appears in, because-“

“You can’t tell if it's the real him or not!” Pacifica excitedly finished in shared sympathy.

Mabel looked left and right as if afraid of being eavesdropped. “Do you think the thing you’re hunting tonight is anything as bad as Mr Top Hat and Bowtie?”

Pacifica listed with her fingers. “Terrifying? Yes. Nightmare-inducing, you’d better believe it. Traumatising for life? Jury’s still out.”

“Well, it’ll be a real adventure finding out!” Pacifica couldn’t tell if Mabel was being genuinely optimistic or simply teasing. “Mind out the way.” Mabel crouched down and rolled up a woollen rug that covered almost all the floor. Pacifica only had a second to glimpse swirling calligraphy patterns. “Got this rug from Grand Bazaar in Istanbul one time I was visiting,” Mabel explained, shrugging. “What can I say, a gal likes her souvenirs.”

That much was true. Pacifica had seen the boxes Mabel filled with sentimental old junk lying around the house. Her previously transient lifestyle meant she’d made use of a lot of long term storage lockers, or otherwise hauling heaps of her stuff everywhere. At least now she had a permanent residence she’d have somewhere to leave it all while out campaigning.

Pacifica tapped a finger on the sharp point of one of the glass prisms, watching the miniature rainbow it cast. “So what’s all this in aid of? A private little side room for when you’re feeling particularly occultish on a Friday night?” She suppressed a small chuckle. “Were you on drugs when you made this?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Oh ha ha, go for the cheap jokes. I did something called ‘using my imagination’.”

The way her friend had snapped back at her made Pacifica wince. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

Mabel made an easy smile and placed a palm on the menagerie of trees above Pacifica’s heart. “All is forgiven.”

Pacifica didn’t feel like she deserved to be let off the hook so easily. She’d have to work better on not being so insensitive. “I meant it Mabel. I apologise for being so crass with you and Zera tonight. I lashed out and you didn’t deserve that. I’ve just been so tensed up today. No, not just today. All month. This might be the kind of room you’d find in a serial killer cultist mansion, but there’s a consistent aesthetic to design. It has atmosphere.”

“Not bad for a college dropout,” Mabel said, winking up at her. “I am a master craftsman at anything I put my mind to.”

Pacifica smirked. “Like that ‘super secret craft project’ you’ve been working on but haven’t told anyone yet?”

Mabel whirled around in shock, her smugness immediately punctured. “Wait what, how’d you know about that?”

“All those furtive phone calls and texts over Christmas? It was hard to miss when we were all under your parents’ roof. Plus you were hardly being subtle. So what’s this one about? Art piece? Your own line of hot tubs?”

Mabel bent down beneath the triptych where sets of drawers were inset in the wall and mumbled to herself. “Great, another secret I failed to keep. You’ll find out when I’m good and ready this time, Paz.” Pacifica graciously accepted this crushing loss and watched Mabel as her outstretched finger hovered over the drawers “Let’s see, left side we got smokables, right side is the painkillers, centre bottom is… aha! The acid drawer!”

“So when I mentioned drugs I wasn’t far off?” Pacifica offered.

Mabel, oblivious, scrambled around on all fours, using a stick of chalk to draw five straight lines directly onto the wooden floorboards. The lines formed a pentagon about 25 inches across. Mabel pointed at the blank space within the lines. “Now, sit.”

“Do I have to?”

“It’s part of the ritual. You don’t just take a hit of the drug, you’ve gotta get your brain in the right state. That’s what the whole room is for, the eight sides reflect and refract mental energy. I can get you a cushion if it’s easier?”

“No, I’ll accept your cruel and unusual method of helping me.” Pacifica sat cross-legged in the pentagon, internally reflecting on Mabel’s particular spiritual leanings. When it came to religions Mabel treated them like a buffet, picking and choosing traditions and beliefs from all over the place. She thought back to Mason’s earlier words about gullibility, wondering if he’d been too harsh. When the world they lived in already contained such multitudes, what was the harm in embracing a little madness?

Mabel hurried about to pore over one of the shelves, making a great clattering when she tripped over some keepsake or another. Pacifica grinned to herself. She studied her friend’s movements. Mabel had all the grace and elegance of a controlled demolition. Somehow she’d learnt how to counteract her innate clumsiness by predicting every stumble and fall milliseconds before the fact and shifting the balance so she stayed perfectly upright. She would dance about gently on tiptoes, seeming always one instant away from collapsing to the floor but never tipping over that critical threshold. It was quite an impressive achievement, though Pacifica would baulk at describing it as balletic.

Mabel rummaged around in one of the drawers, tossing items out of the way, before producing a plastic bag full of colourful sweets. “Have some gummy koalas. You’re gonna need the energy.”

Pacifica took a handful and swallowed them down gratefully. Today had taken a lot out of her. It wasn’t just the exertion; her mind was worn out and frenzied. She hoped the rest of the night would lend her clarity, if nothing else.

Awkwardly shoving mementoes aside to make room, Mabel slapped down a round CD player of a type Pacifica hadn’t seen in nearly 25 years. Clasping a disc in one hand, her friend clumsily dropped it into the player and pressed a button with a loud click. The sound of smooth saxophone and lounge piano quietly filled the chamber. Mabel snapped her fingers at Pacifica. “Close your eyes.” Pacifica begrudgingly did as instructed. “That’s it, good. Calm your breathing, open your mind, and appreciate the contours of the chamber. I’ll be your guide for your journey on the cosmic express!”

Pacifica cracked an eye open, unable to resist a minor snort of laughter. Her sliver of view showed Mabel retrieving a hefty leather bound tome, covered in strange symbols. She craned her neck, trying to get a better look. “Is that one of the journals?”

Mabel blew on the book, sending dust swirling around in the tight confines of the room and causing Pacifica to sneeze. “No peeking. This is the Bardo Thodol: The Tibetan Book of the Dead,” Mabel said matter-of-factly. “Found it in a flea market.” It was official: Mabel Pines was the world’s biggest hoarder. “It’s the 1975 translation.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m putting my life into the hands of someone who can’t even read Tibetan. Lame.” She only half covered up her trepidation with a grin. “Why exactly is this book relevant?”

“It’s one of the major arcana when it comes to recreational tripping. It features Buddhist teachings on how to reach intermediate dream states, like the brink of death, sensations of rebirth, that kind of thing. Once the hippies got their hands on it they opened all new avenues of consciousness. With my help you’ll be able to ascend into a drug induced mania, where you’ll hopefully find the ape ghoul thingy.”

Pacifica took a moment to digest Mabel’s words, then gave a long breath out. “Not to cast shade, but that doesn’t sound like it will work. Getting high to catch a demon? Really, Mabel?”

Ignoring her friend’s pessimism, Mabel continued her frenzied dance around the tight space. At each of the five corners of the pentagon she set down a candle and lit each one. Pacifica felt confined, unwilling to move a muscle out of position lest she knock one of them over.

“Ritual can be a tricky thing,” Mabel said as she waved a match to put out the flame, “but believe me, it works. I’ve experienced it. If you think Gravity Falls is strange normally then you ain’t seen nothing. There’s a whole other side to this town.” She picked up the chalk and started linking the corners of the pentagon with straight, criss-crossing lines. Pretty soon Pacifica was enclosed in an even smaller floor space at the centre of a pentagram. “I’m not talking about the sub-realms like the Unicorn glade or the Crawlspace. This perception of the Falls can only be accessed by guided meditation, aided by a little boost from my good friend Lucy.”

“Who’s-”

Mabel triumphantly set a small vial down on the floor by Pacifica’s feet, inviting her to take a look. The vial was filled with a clear liquid that congealed slightly when Pacifica shook the glass container. “Trust you to have a supply handy,” she muttered.

“That’s some genuine lysergic acid diethylamide, LSD for short. Perfect for inducing otherworldly vision states and dissolution of the self. I bet that skull you’re wearing is probably infused with a trace element of something similar. Maybe something like magic mushrooms, though in a quantity that’s barely detectable. So, you ready to take your first trip?”

Pacifica swilled the chemical around experimentally. “What if I have a bad reaction? God knows my body is still flooded with hormones.”

Mabel screwed up her face. “After six months? Nah. I’ll be here in hand if you have any bad reactions, and I’ll keep the dosage nice and low for your first time, don’t worry. A couple of micrograms should do it.” Inserting a pipette she extracted a handful of drops. “It’s easy really, mixing and diluting to create my own brews.”

“Alright, calm down Walter White. Mabel Juice and Smile Dip addled your brain and you need ever stronger doses to hit the same high, huh?”

Mabel shrugged and flashed a wicked smile. She swung the pipette towards Pacifica. “Now, open wide. A drop or two on the tongue should do it.” Pacifica recoiled, keeping her mouth clammed up like when Leah refused to eat her baby food.

“I’m… not sure about this. Maybe in the morning we can search for the Unshriven again, with clearer heads.”

Mabel frowned. “It might not still be lurking around by tomorrow. You’ve gotta face it down on its home turf. The astral plane.” She made an arc with her hand. Pacifica found it silly how childish her friend could make this sound. The Unshriven was a matter of life and death. “The mindscape can be accessed by certain spells, but a raw approach can be more rewarding. It’s kinda like knitting a sweater. The warp and weft of time and space can be tamed with a little expansion of consciousness. You won’t even need to leave this room.”

“Are you sure you're not just hallucinating during these ‘spirit journeys’? That would be the more obvious explanation. You’re really trying to tell me you’ve stumbled onto a mystical sub-realm all on your own? Mason’s never mentioned anything like this. Nor your uncle Ford in all his journals.”

“They don’t know everything.” Mabel winked.

Her irreverent dismissal rankled. Corduroy had expressed similar sentiments. Pacifica could accept the locals might have some innate cultural knowledge the journals were lacking, but this was on a grander scale. An entirely new way of seeing the Falls, just a few drops of a chemical away. When she put it like that there was a certain tantalising allure to the prospect.

The journals had always been a means of cataloguing the oddities of the Falls, making sense of the insanity, boxing the phenomena into neat categories. Here was Mabel casually coming along and blowing up the entire paradigm. Pacifica refused to believe it had been an entirely futile effort. Whatever happened tonight she would venture forth and bring back a report to add to her journal, and colonise some small corner of the extremities of the strange.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” Pacifica didn’t second-judge the statement. It would be her last, definitive word. What came next would be her own choice to confront.

“Great!” Mabel said, beaming with joy, before taking on a more serious conviction. “Oh, and by the way, before we start I wanted to say sorry for another reminder about you know who.” Mabel gestured at the purloined Northwest tapestries. “If it's not too much to ask, when was the last time you spoke to them?”

Pacifica folded her arms and leant back as far as she dared without bumping into the candles. “We email from time to time. Strictly on the short end, mainly life updates. They tell me about some successful trade deal, I share baby photos of Leah. That’s about it. I haven’t spoken to them face to face since the wedding.”

Mabel blew air out from her cheeks. “Wow, eight years. Impressive streak. Puts into perspective the five years we went without seeing each other.”

“I hope I’ve been able to make up for lost time in the last three.” Making a quick judgement, Pacifica reached up and put a hand on Mabel’s arm. “Hey, before I do this… thanks for helping out tonight. I’ve been in a rough place and you didn’t hesitate to try and make it better. You know I’m being serious when I say this because I hate the word, but: we’re besties. Spouses not included.”

“Aw, Paz, that’s so sweet of you!” She leant in for a hug. Though she was still dripping wet and her skin was clammy, Pacifica accepted the warm embrace from the brunette. Setting her hands on each of Pacifica’s shoulders, Mabel guided her back into the seating position within the pentagram. “Ok, last chance to back out. I know I’ve made it my lifestyle, but I don’t want to sugarcoat it too much. This process isn’t always pleasant. It has to break you down before it can build you back up. Remember, you don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. There are no monsters rampaging around a city, no rare cryptids to protect. The only stakes are whether I can mend some turmoil between two families… and maybe find some peace of mind.”

Mabel softly grinned. “Those sound like big enough stakes to me, honey.”

Steeling herself, Pacifica put on the fur hat as a totem of good luck. “Look after my journal for me,” she said. “When I get it back I don’t want to see any illicit crayon scribbles.”

While Mabel avoided eye contact and checked her concoction one last time, Pacifica snuck a glance at her phone. She was mildly surprised to see it was only 2am - she felt like it should be much later. Her home screen, the background of which was a photo of Merrise holding Leah as they jointly rested on the couch at home, displayed a single notification. It was a message from Mason from an hour ago telling her was heading to bed. Pacifica once again felt the bond of trust, that Mason didn’t stay up on her account, having faith she’d overcome any challenge she set herself. She also guessed that he was probably a little anxious about where she was, even if he wasn’t admitting it. She fired across a short text saying she was alright and would be back in the morning. The instant after getting confirmation that it had been sent she received a thumbs up in return. He was watching out for her. Pacifica put the phone away, safe in the knowledge that Mason would sleep well knowing she was in no danger. No immediate danger at least.

Mabel cleared her throat and spread her arms out above her head, beginning a proclamation. “It’s time. The osprey skull will be your anchoring thread, tying you to the Unshriven so you can combat him on the astral plane. You’re all ready to go, prepared to take the plunge, embrace the strange, taste of the forbidden fruit.”

Pacifica shooed her fussy friend away. “Relax, it’s not my first cosmic dream vision.” She stuck out her tongue and waited patiently. Mabel squeezed out two tiny drops of acid. Pacifica detected a bitter taste, but otherwise couldn’t sense any stronger flavour.

“It should take a few minutes to kick in.” Mabel moved subtly over to the shrines and the CD player. She turned the volume on the muzak down. “Oh, and if you see any geometric forms don’t buy what they’re selling.”

“I won’t,” Pacifica said with a sly smile. Mabel sounded less like an anarchist and more like a kids show host.

“Now, close your eyes, relax, and expand your horizons.”

With a click, Mabel moved onto the next music track and turned the volume to max. This was nothing like the passive ambiance of the jazz. A solo sitar chord echoed off the octagonal wood panelling. Already Pacifica was unsettled. The sitar reverberated off the walls and through her bones. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, the rhythms discordant and overlapping with one another. The sitar had an artificial twang, electronically synthesised. A low hiss, the artefact of the old player, only heightened the sense of eeriness.

Very soon Pacifica was no longer aware of Mabel’s presence, fussing about around her, nor of the surrounding room. As the sitar increased in tempo she felt adrift from the normality of the simple room in the simple house. She tried in vain to focus on the feeling of the wood panels beneath her rear, but this too dissipated away like a half-remembered dream.

Now what was she supposed to do? “Mabel?” Nothing. No sound. Only the barest hint of flickering candles. Even the haunting sitar echoed as if distant. Maybe more time was needed to let the effects of the drug become noticeable. She kept her eyes resolutely sealed shut and tried to picture in her mind an image of the Unshriven. The bared tusks glinted a dull eggshell white over black fur, as dark as driving on the interstate out of the valley at night. The image quickly faded. A memory, that was all. She couldn’t actually find her target by wishing hard enough.

A blur danced at the edge of her vision, in the black space behind her eyelids. Her blood ran cold. The Unshriven was there, lingering like a bad penny in the corner of her eye. But that was ridiculous. It couldn’t be as simple as this. It was all psychedelic hokum. A drawing on the floor, some candles and low lighting, a few words of guidance. Surely she wasn’t that suggestible?

She peeked her eyelids open and gasped in rapidly surmounting horror. The walls of the room were melting away like paint dribbling off a canvas, like wax on a candle. Of Mabel there was no sign. Pressure built behind her eyes and she was unable to prevent herself falling backwards into the newly formed expanse of emptiness.

In a free fall, air rushed past her. Fragments of Mabel’s shrine went flying by, shattered glass fragments, torn threads, and broken planks of wood spinning into the abyss. Pacifica flailed out for any kind of support. She only succeeded in sending herself spinning.

Abruptly she came to a halt, suspended horizontally. She blinked and tried to understand what she was seeing. No matter how disorientated she told herself it was her own brain that was the cause, random synapses firing under the delirious effects of a potent chemical. Unless she’d already entered the so-called ‘other side’ of Gravity Falls.

Gradually the darkness resolved beneath her. She began to glide downwards, no longer in deleterious descent. Stretched out in front of her eyes was a round, grey basin. The scale put her off at first. Everything was rendered in miniature, as if viewed through a microscope. Recognition sparked in her mind when she saw a pair of dramatically split rocky outcroppings. The view was in fact her home - the valley of Gravity Falls, lit in a harsh contrasting monochrome.

She strained to make out details. The mountains around the town and the dome-shaped hill of Crash Site Omega were visible, as vast defining parts of the landscape, but the rest was a bleached blur that made her eyes water. It was like peering through the static fuzz of a television, trying to comprehend the image of a low resolution black & white video. No, not quite monochrome, she realised. The landscape below was lit up in contrast to the endless galaxy-filled sky above. She was seeing through a form of night vision.

Propelled downwards at high speed, her body swept over the treetops. She moved in graceful arcs, her motion that of a bird of prey. She stared down at the osprey amulet but saw only a pair of feathery wings on either side of her body. Part of herself accepted the transformation. If becoming an osprey was a requirement to traverse the spirit realm then who was she to argue?

Swooping past the outskirts where Mabel and Zera’s abode was found, she traced an invisible ley line through the woods. In this perception there were no modern structures, merely half-formed echoes. The town high-street was an assemblage of foundations etched in swirling purple contours. Singular eye-bats drifted in flocks, observing all that transpired.

Pacifica landed on an outcrop of bare granite, her body seamlessly returning to her basic human form, flaws and all. She tried to take a closer look around but her vision was swamped with distracting shimmers. A spotlight trained on her face would be less blinding. Stumbling forwards she left the site of the town behind almost too swiftly. Space was compressed as she was shuttled along a conveyor belt across the divots and hillocks of the valley bottom.

Dizzy, she fell against the trunk of a tree. The wood snapped and collapsed. The pallid grey bark made Pacifica throw up her palms. It was diseased, near dead. The bark oozed sickly globs of congealed fluid. Pacifica watched in stunned bewilderment as the putrescent sap drifted up into the air. The texture was akin to blood, but paler, a mix of scarlet and pink. The globules vanished up into the spiral of stars suspended in the firmament.

Pacifica’s urge to flee became overwhelming again. That was when she really became frightened. The Unshriven was right in front of her, breath hot in her face. It was even more pungent than when she’d come close to the ape in the flesh. The odour was that of repression, of paper and leather left so long that it rotted into mulch, of sticky sweat clinging to skin during every vulnerable moment, and everything that signalled death. The creature reared up on its stubby legs and roared. The skin below its neck started melting away, rolling off the torso like cooking meat, exposing bone and sinew. It had found a way to become even more abhorrent.

Pacifica’s grasp on the situation deteriorated to the point she felt faint. Her legs gave out from beneath her and she tumbled to the cold and sterile earth. Her back impacted on a soft bed of grass. She blinked twice. Bemused and pleasantly surprised to see no sign of the Unshriven, she rose unsteadily. A meadow of gently swaying tall grass, lit golden by a half-set sun, surrounded her. In one direction were vast cliffs towering over an ocean of raging tides. In the other, a castle delicately perched atop a conical mountain peak. Pacifica was at peace here in the warm breeze. She screwed her eyes shut and remembered.

This was Dimension 52. A realm so distant from her own that it hardly felt real at all, even when she’d visited in-person. That trip hadn’t been long after her body had been irrevocably altered, purged of all scars and skin marks. It was where she’d had her first realisation that life would never go back to the way it had been before. This was the world on which Leah had been conceived.

For the first time a frenzied panic overcame Pacifica. Leah was conceived in another dimension. The simple fact now terrified her. She’d never even thought about it, about what it meant for a child to develop inside her across multiple universes, where the laws of physics were malleable. There was every chance that she’d suffered acute radiation poisoning from all their hops between dimensions. What could that do to a growing embryo? For all she knew it had caused irreversible birth defects for her child.

That didn’t make sense. Leah was perfect. Her new reproductive system was freshly minted after all, and six months had shown her no indications of illness or disorder from her baby. Unless it was a fragile window of normality before the horrors came crashing down.

The light of Dimension 52’s sun winked out. Gusts of wind blew against Pacifica’s exposed arms and grass tickled her ankles, though these sensations soon disappeared as well. She shielded her eyes when a single harsh light burst into existence above her. The intensity made her stumble. She knew this place too. Not here. Anywhere but here.

Crumpling against asphalt, a great weight held her down. Spitting rain and tears obscured her sight but she couldn’t mistake the light pouring from the open window. The house she’d shared with Mason in Jersey had never been inviting. Now she dreaded the very sight of it. This was her lowest moment, when she’d convinced herself that even the ones she loved most didn’t want to be around her. When her infertility had finally become impossible to ignore and utter despair felt like the only path available.

“No, please,” she whimpered, her throat ragged. Through the haze in her mind she tried to focus on her happiest memories. Surely that would work to keep herself anchored. She pictured squid whales dancing through an ocean in the sky. Her first kiss, music thudding through her entire body, her heart beating even stronger. The gift of a yellow sweater, specially re-knitted just for her. She tried hardest to imagine her daughters wrapped in her arms. Her two baby girls were like smoke, intangible and gone from her embrace.

Her stomach gurgled uncontrollably. A yawning dread opened up before Pacifca. She knew it was about to get worse. Contractions wracked her lower body, sending spasms through her legs. Her hand gripped against her shirt and failed to stem the awful churning inside. She could feel movement below the skin of her belly as it flexed and gurgled. Fleshy lumps pressed out from within. Pacifica laid back, screaming through the unimaginable pain.

A gaping hole tore asunder between her legs. Muscles painfully forced a living creature out of her womb. It slopped on the ground, coated in internal fluids and blood, tied to her by a pale umbilical cord. Pacifica’s daughter stared up at her with bloodshot, unblinking eyes. Her daughter had no skin. Pacifica decided that screaming again was besides the point. She curled up in the foetal position, as helpless as her child.

She was paralysed in the rain, pathetic and helpless. The light in the house was switched off. Not even Mason would come from her this time. She was an infertile wreck, unfit for motherhood, let alone heroics. Everything her parents had said about her was right.

A light pierced the edge of her vision. Above her Corduroy’s judging face leered. Which Corduroy it was, the father she’d pledged to help or the daughter she’d failed to save, didn’t matter. The gaze penetrated her useless body all the same.

“Get up.” Pacifica raised her head at the voice, barely daring to believe it. “Get. Up. Pacifica.” She groped in the air for a supportive hand, dropping it down again as she was overcome with fatigue.

“I can’t… why do you think I can do this?”

“Because, whether Northwest, or Pines, or something else, you are a warrior. You struck out from your parents, your wealth, your legacy. The only person who can define who you are is staring at you in the mirror.” Corduroy offered a helping hand. “So. Get up.”

Surging with a burst of energy, Pacifica accepted the outstretched hand and climbed out of the puddle of despair. She shuddered, finding herself alone again. No helping hand, no nightmarish homunculus of her daughter. Her surroundings had been replaced by the lifeless woods once more.

She wasn’t infertile. Quite the opposite. Pacifica wasn’t sure which alternative made her more uncomfortable at the moment. She didn’t want to be reduced to this, to sinew and bone and organic processes deep inside. But then, what was this drug trip if not another physical process?

Striving for something inside herself she didn’t fully understand, Pacifica took the first step forwards, stumbling towards salvation.

[sarifinasnightmare]

The Lifeguard

I blame @palettesofrenaissance-main for posting sexy ideas and @tllgrrl for teasing me with a vampire fic that I want more of NOW! You know what, I blame @btwxsixesandsevens just because I haven't bothered her for a hot minute and I don't want anyone to feel neglected.

Warning: SMUT!!!!! Semi-public sex. PWP.

__________

On a beautiful stretch of beach, Sarah lounged on her chair enjoying the sun and surf. This was her little vacation, her break, her me time from all the stress back at home. She had splurged and gotten a nice hotel, one of those right along the shoreline where the beach was private, the ambiance was luxurious, and the wait staff brought you your cute cocktail with the little umbrella in it.  Let her also not forgot the view. In fact, the view should be showing up right around now.

This hotel was blessed with gorgeous looking people, including him, a tall, long haired brunette with penetrating blue eyes. He had the body of an athlete and the face of a god. A lifeguard who sat under his striped umbrella wearing nothing but his red trunks and his dog tags. The muscles of his chest, the size of his biceps, even the metal arm made her thighs clench. He was the stuff of wet dreams and Sarah’s had plenty since she’d seen him, but she was a good girl, besides who knows how many girls have thrown themselves at him. It probably embarrassed him at this point. Still the sensual sensation he provoked invigorated her; it made everything more lush, more fragrant, more enjoyable.

The heat was high today and the umbrella was not enough to shade her. She requested a Sazerac and when she finished it, picked up an ice cube and sucked on it for a moment before pressing the coolness on her neck and shoulders.

_________________---

Bucky knew he had a job to do but he could not stop looking. His African Goddess had appeared again and today she had the audacity, the sheer audacity, to come to his beach wearing a bikini. A beautiful buttery yellow bit of fabric that was held only by string and an angel’s kiss.

Speaking of kiss. Somehow he had survived watching her put on sunblock. Having all her dark brown skin on display had him aching. There must’ve been some shimmer to it because she gleamed like a mirage. How many times had a stuck-up giggly type asked him to rub lotion on her back? Why on God’s green earth hadn’t she asked?? He’d gladly spend hours rubbing her down, caressing, stroking every inch of her flawless skin until…until…

Oh God what was she doing??

His Goddess had been sipping a cocktail and was using the ice to…

Quickly he put on his sunglasses. He couldn’t fake it anymore, he had to watch.

Those plush lips sucked on the ice, her cheeks hollowing to get all the flavor out of it and his cock twitched. He watched her give the cube the loving attention that made the pit of his stomach burn with jealousy, then she drew it back and spread the moisture of the melting ice along her neck. That long swan-like neck that now had rivulets of water flowing down until it collected in the hollow pools of her decolletage. His throat had gone completely dry, and he was at attention.

Then a line of water slipped under her bikini and she gasped, then released the sweetest little moan that ever graced his ears. A surge of precum wet his trunks and he broke out into a sweat.

Goddess please stop, you have no idea what you’re doing to me!

Suddenly she got up and stripped out of her tiny shorts. The yellow fabric was nothing but a little triangle on her crotch and the high arching cut of it showed off her perfectly round ass and mile long legs. She did a full body stretch, releasing yet another moan before making her way to the shore.

She threw herself enthusiastically into the waves and emerged like Venus out of the foam, throwing her long locs over her shoulders.

Bucky knew if he pressed anything on his cock right now he’d cum, hell a stiff breeze might take him over the edge.

Goddess, Goddess, you cruel sexy thing. Give me a sign, look my way. Fuck I’ll do anything for you!

She must’ve heard him because she looked his way and gave him a dazzling smile. A wave suddenly caught her by surprise, and she fell over with a shriek. Sign taken. He quickly jumped out of his chair, grunting at the stiffness and went to rescue her.

_________________---

Sarah had just found her footing when a hand reached out and grasped hers, helping her upright. Wiping the saltwater from her eyes, she found herself looking at a pretty blue pair gazing at her with concern.

“Hi.”

“Hi, saw you fall over.” He grinned. “You alright?”

He was wet. Those muscles, the hair, all slick and wet. “Yeah, yeah of course. Um, thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” He’d smelled suntan lotion all summer but on her it smelled so fucking good. “My name is Bucky.”

“Bucky? Interesting name. I’m Sarah.”

“Sarah, your name is beautiful.” He blurted out unthinking, so excited to finally give his goddess a name.

The blood rushed hot over her face, and she laughed to hide her embarrassment. “Thank you, I guess. Uh, what brings you here?”

He grinned. “Work. What brings you here?”

That was a stupid question Sarah! Do better! She thought about it for a moment. “Pleasurable experiences.”

 “What kind of pleasurable experiences?” He asked, his eyes skimming over her.

Her body tingled. “The kind that reminds you why life is worth living. I want to try new food, new drinks, new music…” she drew back a little and gave him a coy look, “…new people.”

“New people? Anyone in mind?” He followed after her, not wanting to get out of her sphere and she seemed to be okay with that if the little smile on her face told him anything.

She shrugged nonchalantly as she brought herself closer to him until she could almost feel the heat of his body. “Perhaps. I tend to be rather picky. I like my men tall, strong, bold.”

He was being seduced, thank God. “If you had any idea what you’ve been doing to me, you wouldn’t tease me like you are now.”

“You’ve been watching me?” She asked, breathless.

“From the moment you checked in, with a body that doesn’t know how to quit.” He growled. “You walked out in that white one piece, and then you turned over. All I wanted to do was get on my knees and beg you to let me eat your ass.”

Her clit pulsed and she broke out into goosebumps. “Am I so distracting?”

“That black cocktail dress you wore last night. It hugged you so good, Sarah.” He leaned close enough to kiss her. “I was so hard I thought I was going to die.”

She had seen him that night in dark slacks and a white button up with the sleeves rolled to his powerful forearms. She regretted not approaching him that night. “I saw you. You made me so wet.” She murmured nearly against his mouth. “I touched myself to you.”

“Fuck babydoll how wet were you?” He groaned biting his lip.

“I was so soft, so juicy for you, baby.” She purred.

He slanted his mouth over hers and the heat of it nearly seared them alive. The way his tongue curled around hers made her shiver. Abruptly she drew back.

“Wait, wait, we’re outside, there’s too many people…”

“Go to Cabin 12.” He growled, refusing to let it end. “It’s our most private space. Go, I’ll meet you there.”

This was crazy, this was stupid. “Okay.” She breathed and walked back to shore on legs as wobbly as a newborn foal’s.

Bucky watched her go and glanced around. There were more people around, but they were either concentrating on their tans, on their companion or enjoying the surf, good. Even better his co-worker just arrived. He waded out and grabbed his towel.

“Took you long enough. See you later.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” She asked as she climbed into the chair.

Going to make love to my Goddess. “Hungry.” He replied, gave her a small salute, and made himself scarce.

__________________---

Sarah was nervous as she reached the cabana marked twelve and waited for Bucky. It had three walls made of wood with the fourth open to the view with only white curtains for privacy. It had a beach themed sitting area in front and a long sofa inside. Not wanting to be noticed, she pulled on the curtains until she was shielded.

Are you doing this Sarah? Really going to do this??

Her heart stopped at an approaching sound and then she saw the outline of a man. Bucky slipped through the curtains and gave her a smile that made her thighs clench.

“Bucky.”

“Sshh, don’t move.” He asked as he set down his things and approached her. The day was warm, the cabana slightly warmer and there were a few enticing beads of sweat on her chest. He reached out, caressed her waist until he cupped her breasts. “This bikini should be illegal.”

Sarah moaned as his caressed her, stroking her nipples to hardness. “Did I tease you too much, baby?”

“Babydoll if it wasn’t the only thing you had I’d be ripping it off you.” He kissed her hard staking his claim. She kissed him back, running her hands all over his muscles and moaning in delight. Reaching down she stroked his cock through his shorts and was pleased with what she found.

“I’ve wanted this in me since the day I saw you.”

“Which means two days were wasted. We best make up for lost time.” His mouth skimmed over her chest, licking the sweat before pushing her bikini top down so he can latch onto her nipple. He was greedy and a little mean, biting gently on her tender buds before going down on his knees, pulling her bikini the rest of the way down before turning her around, bending her over the small table and burying his face against her cheeks.

“Bucky!” She cried at the first sensation of his tongue dragging against her openings. It’s been a hot minute since she’d been with a man and this guy wasn’t playing around. His tongue gave big, broad licks that stroked everywhere and made her push back for more. He responded by giving her a hearty smack which made her wiggle against him.

She hadn’t lied, she was soft and juicy for him and God he wanted to eat her pussy until she passed out, but his cock was dying and even though they were in the farthest cabana at the hotel they couldn’t stay long.

This won’t be the last time. Hell no, this is only the beginning. He promised himself as he turned her over and coaxed her to lie back on the sofa while he slipped off his trunks and grabbed a condom. Her body was glorious, glowing even in the shade of the cabana. She arched herself and opened her thighs invitingly.

“Come here, baby.” She purred, hungry and eager. He was pure muscle and heat and she moaned as the tip of him teased her swollen lips. He braced himself with one arm and pinned her waist with the other, then began the delicious slide into her body. He was so wonderfully thick; she knew she’d feel the ache for days.

So warm, so tight. Bucky groaned as he sheathed himself deep inside her, their groins pressed perfectly together. “Babydoll you’re heaven.” Then she wrapped around legs around his waist and pushed him in deeper.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Please?” She pleaded.

The please broke him and he did as she commanded. With two days of longing he fucked Sarah, slamming into her with a pounding rhythm that had her writhing and crying his name.

“Bucky, oh fuck, Bucky!” The ache, the stretch left her feeling full and the blunt head of his cock was stroking something inside that was making her see stars. She dug her fingers into the cushions as she tighten her legs around him, desperate for more.

The heat in the cabana was incredible, Bucky was sweating buckets but he refused to stop, refused to slow not when her sweet opening trapped him like a pleasurable vice and her thighs urged him onward and he was determined to fucking bury himself inside her until they’d ruin the couch.

Soft little wails were escaping her now, she knew they had to be quiet but she couldn’t help it. He was too much and not enough all at once. Rapture was filling her brain and a warmth spread through her loins that told her she’d been conquered. Eyes rolling to the back of her head she arched her body and let out a silent scream as the wave of ecstasy claimed her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He grunted as he watched her fall apart and followed after her. Her hungry pussy clenched him tight demanding all of him and he gave it to her, slamming down to the root and drowning in a bliss so good he almost passed out.

It was hot inside the cabana, but they slumped against each other, exhausted and sated. A cool breeze blew through the curtains, kissing their sweaty brows.

“You are a goddess. Jesus Christ I thought I saw heaven.” He panted against her neck.

“I think I saw it too.” She agreed, stroking the sweat gathered along the line of his spine. “That was amazing, Bucky.” She glanced outside at the waves that was just a yard away, “Does it have to end now?”

“When do you leave?” He asked, nuzzling her throat.

“Sunday.”

“Three nights.” He calculated, kissing her idly. “Think it’s time to use my sick days.”

Sarah chuckled. “My room is 505. It has a king-sized bed, but first take me to dinner.”

 “Wear the little black dress from before.” He growled into her ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Sarah shivered and desire bloomed once again. A pleasurable vacation indeed.

[lewdys-world-of-asks]

Ghostly Grope for Batgirl and Supergirl

As the pair stepped into the academy's swimming changing room long after closing time, a giggle escaped the lips of the duo who intended on enjoying a midnight swim, despite the academy's rules about curfew. Babs was wearing a purple microkini that had but only three purple triangles, two holding up her chest and the last barely covering her pussy, not that you'd be able to tell with her black and yellow Gotham City pullover, meanwhile Kara wore a half-red half-blue bandeau top and red thong style set of bikini bottoms with a tiny skirt attached along with a blue crop jumper with the House of El symbol on it.

As the pair walked along, the sound of one of the changing stall doors closing drew their attention, enough to cause the pair to investigate however then moment they peeked in there was nothing there. The two giggled, turning before being yanked in, the door slamming shut and locking as ghostly hands held the pair, more hands appearing and groping the girls. One hand pressed two fingers over Babs' pussy while a pair lifted her pullover and groped at her chest, pinching her nipples through the thin purple material of her bikini. Meanwhile Kara drooled all over her tits as a hand shoved three fingers into her mouth, earning moans as she tried to resist, albeit weakly as pleasure took over her. More hands ran up and down her curves, along her hips and thighs as a pair of hands spread her cheeks apart while yet another hand tore her bandeau top down and fondled her. Both the girls moaned as time went by, the hands doing nothing other than groping the two. After half an hour the door unlocked and was opened before the pair were released, pushed out by the hands, one even giving both girls a cheeky spank, leaving a handprint on them as the pair panted, pent up and drenched despite not even having gone for a swim~

[maximumtalewonderland]

Happy Bikini Day!

On July 5, 1946, French designer Louis Réard unveils a daring two-piece swimsuit at the Piscine Molitor, a popular swimming pool in Paris. Parisian showgirl Micheline Bernardini modeled the new fashion, which Réard dubbed “bikini,” inspired by a news-making U.S. atomic test that took place off the Bikini Atoll in the Pacific Ocean earlier that week.

European women first began wearing two-piece bathing suits that consisted of a halter top and shorts in the 1930s, but only a sliver of the midriff was revealed and the navel was vigilantly covered. In the United States, the modest two-piece made its appearance during World War II, when wartime rationing of fabric saw the removal of the skirt panel and other superfluous material. Meanwhile, in Europe, fortified coastlines and Allied invasions curtailed beach life during the war, and swimsuit development, like everything else non-military, came to a standstill.

In 1946, Western Europeans joyously greeted the first war-free summer in years, and French designers came up with fashions to match the liberated mood of the people. Two French designers, Jacques Heim and Louis Réard, developed competing prototypes of the bikini. Heim called his the “atom” and advertised it as “the world’s smallest bathing suit.” Réard's swimsuit, which was basically a bra top and two inverted triangles of cloth connected by string, was in fact significantly smaller. Made out of a scant 30 inches of fabric, Réard promoted his creation as “smaller than the world’s smallest bathing suit.” Réard called his creation the bikini, named after the Bikini Atoll.

In planning the debut of his new swimsuit, Réard had trouble finding a professional model who would deign to wear the scandalously skimpy two-piece. So he turned to Micheline Bernardini, an exotic dancer at the Casino de Paris, who had no qualms about appearing nearly nude in public. As an allusion to the headlines that he knew his swimsuit would generate, he printed newspaper type across the suit that Bernardini modeled on July 5 at the Piscine Molitor. The bikini was a hit, especially among men, and Bernardini received some 50,000 fan letters.

Before long, bold young women in bikinis were causing a sensation along the Mediterranean coast. Spain and Italy passed measures prohibiting bikinis on public beaches but later capitulated to the changing times when the swimsuit grew into a mainstay of European beaches in the 1950s. Réard's business soared, and in advertisements he kept the bikini mystique alive by declaring that a two-piece suit wasn’t a genuine bikini “unless it could be pulled through a wedding ring.”

In prudish America, the bikini was successfully resisted until the early 1960s, when a new emphasis on youthful liberation brought the swimsuit en masse to U.S. beaches. It was immortalized by the pop singer Brian Hyland, who sang “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka-Dot Bikini” in 1960, by the teenage “beach blanket” movies of Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon, and by the California surfing culture celebrated by rock groups like the Beach Boys. Since then, the popularity of the bikini has only continued to grow.

[cave-of-bones]

Start of ID: Brown-skinned woman with no facial features. She has orange-yellow hair which transfers by an ombre (left to right) to a yellow/blonde color. She is wearing a red triangle bikini top which is rounded off to give the impression of a chest. There are light amounts of shading on the skin and bikini (dark to left, light to right). End of ID

[criticalsucc]

for the asks, 2, 3, 8, 20, 38, 50 :) u don't have to answer them all if that's excessive lol i just love learning about mutuals

thank you for so many questions! :)

2: What’s your favorite color/style of lingerie, on yourself or on a partner?

i am actually very picky about lingerie for myself lol. there are very specific shapes that are particularly pleasing to me and i can only describe so much without visual examples. for bras i like demi cups or triangle bralettes. for panties i tend to prefer bikini styles that are a little skimpy on the cheeks. i love things that are sort of silky with lacy trim, not so much all-over lace, and panties have always got to have some kind of solid fabric in the crotch (i need the support lol). i don't really like mesh. a nice garter belt really tops things off too. i also really really love bodysuits. they don't tend to work super well on my body because of my proportions, but i fucking love the way they look on other people (older women especially). strappy harnesses also make my brain go brrrrrrr. as for color, maybe it's boring but black is always a classic. you just can't go wrong with black lingerie. black with a little red detail is just too hot. white is also great but i'm pale so black tends to look better. i also tend to prefer warmer colors in the purple/red/pink range. blues/greens/yellows aren't for me personally. all this said if someone else wears lingerie for me specifically then literally anything will look amazing.

3: Confess a kink you haven’t told your followers about yet.

ok listen, please don't laugh. i don't actually have a foot fetish. i don't see feet and get turned on (not that I'm judging anyone else, just seems like feet fetish is the popular thing to make fun of these days). however, i must admit, i find it really hot when two people are having sex and the one who's more physically in control grabs the other's foot and sucks/licks their toes. to me it's like, "i'm so turned on by you and so hungry for you that i'm gonna taste whatever part of you i can, even if it's one of the least sexually appealing parts of your body." i'm a sucker for passion that gets so intense you do things you'd otherwise be too ashamed of.

8: If you’re into bondage, what’s your favorite restraint to use on yourself or a partner?

so i am into light bondade. once it gets too elaborate tho i start to get turned off. so i like leather cuffs, hands either bound behind the back or to a bed frame. legs too. i also think spreader bars around the ankles are kinda hot but never had the opportunity to use one. also maybe cuffs that bind your wrists to your thighs. leashes are teetering right on the edge for me of hot/corny lol.

20: Do you want to have sex with any of your mutuals?

yes absolutely! they know who they are ;) tbh i'd love a huge orgy with all my mutuals where we just hang around and fuck casually all night.

38: What are some of your biggest turn-ons?

exhibitionism is a big one for me. having sex somewhere public, somewhere you shouldn't. the thrill that you could be caught is so exhilarating. never want to expose myself to unwilling participants tho. gangbangs and multiple penetrations are also really really hot. if bottoming was more practical for me i would 100% be trying to be the center of a gangbang. the idea awakens a very primal lust in me. also, dominant older women. if i could meet a milf who would use me as her sex toy, i would be set for life. oh and i almost forgot, anything to do with cum. cumshots, swallowing, spitting, swapping, creampies. fucking love it.

50: Give yourself a compliment!

i have really well shaped legs. i've always been kinda tall and lanky, but for some reason my legs are just spectacularly formed. i sometimes wonder if all the toe walking (autistic trait) i did as a kid just led to me having really nice calf muscles lol.

[theuniquestore]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Lubyswim Gina Handmade Brazilian Swimsuits Set Size S.

[kondostyle]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Reversible Bikini Triangle Top (2 Suits in 1).

[vintagebitchgifts]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: New Woman’s Yellow Boho Fringe Hem Crochet Bikini Top.

[lavendarluna]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: LA Hearts Pacsun Hibiscus Floral Bikini Top.