#Top fountain pumps

[fountaintechpumpsblog]

A Guide to Choosing the Perfect Fountain Pump

Fountains can add a touch of elegance and tranquility to any outdoor space, be it a garden, courtyard, or even a balcony. However, to keep your fountain running smoothly and maintain its beauty, it's essential to choose the right fountain pump. This guide will walk you through the key factors to consider when selecting a fountain pump.

1. Determine the Fountain Size

Before you start shopping for top fountain pumps, it's crucial to know the size of your fountain. Measure the height of the water feature and the distance the water needs to travel from the pump to the top of the fountain. This will help you determine the required pump capacity.

2. Flow Rate

The flow rate of a fountain pump is measured in gallons per hour (GPH) or liters per hour (LPH). To create the desired water effect, you'll need a pump with an appropriate flow rate. For smaller fountains, a pump with a lower GPH will suffice, while larger fountains or those with multiple tiers will require a higher GPH. Flow rate will be determined by the size of the pump, the diameter of the tubing or piping that connects the pump to the fountain, and the vertical “head.”

3. Fountain Head Height

Consider the height the water needs to reach to create the desired visual effect, before you buy a pump for a small fountain. The higher the water needs to go, the more powerful the pump needs to be. Pay attention to the pump's head height rating. It should match or exceed the height you want the water to reach.

You see, pump flow ratings follow what’s called a “pump curve.”

Our FT-35 tabletop pump, for instance, has a maximum head of 18”. If the water only needs to pump up 3” high, it is doing about 35 gallons per hour. But at 12” high, it is only pumping about 12 gallons per hour. Our FT-650 has a max. head of about 120”. At 1” rise it is doing about 780 gallons per hour. But at 20”, the flow rate is approximately 680 gallons per hour. At 100”, the flow rate is about 300 gallons per hour. (And the size of tubing or piping will also influence these rates.)

4. Power Source

Fountain pumps can be powered by electricity or solar energy. Electric pumps are more reliable and suitable for larger fountains, while solar-powered pumps are eco-friendly and perfect for smaller setups. Choose the power source that best suits your fountain's location and your sustainability preferences. Unless a backup battery is used, solar pumps will only work in direct sunlight. If clouds pass between the sun and your solar panel, the motor will temporarily stop.

5. Pump Type

There are different types of fountain pumps available, including submersible and external pumps. Submersible pumps are placed directly in the water, making them discreet and easy to install. External pumps are installed outside the fountain and are often ideal for larger fountains or waterfalls.. Select the type that suits your fountain's design and maintenance preferences.

6. Material and Durability

Ensure that the fountain pump you choose is made of high-quality materials that can withstand exposure to water and the elements. Look for pumps with corrosion-resistant components to ensure longevity and durability.

7. Noise Level

The noise level of a fountain pump can vary greatly. If you want to create a peaceful and quiet environment, choose a pump that operates quietly. Check product specifications for noise level information. If you are using a pump in a confined space where vibrations are easy to hear, you might consider sitting your pump on spongey material to reduce the vibrations.

8. Maintenance

Consider the ease of maintenance when selecting a fountain pump. Submersible pumps are generally easier to access and clean. Read user reviews and product descriptions to get an idea of the maintenance requirements of the pump you're considering.

Conclusion

Choosing the right fountain pump is essential to ensure your fountain operates smoothly and beautifully. By considering factors like fountain size, flow rate, power source, pump type, durability, noise level, and maintenance, you can select the perfect pump for your specific needs. Invest time in selecting the right pump, and you'll enjoy a stunning and tranquil water feature for years to come. And whenever possible, try to find out what size pump your fountain manufacturer recommends.

[milkygothgf]

Such a disgusting pervert for staring at your own coworker while she's pregnant. She is in a vulnerable state and is in need of support from as many people around her as possible, and all you can think about are her plump, swollen baby bump and her bulbous, milky tits. You have no idea how she's feeling right now.

But maybe you should.

You need to be punished, to be put in her shoes.

*I* am going to breed you every day until your tits are swollen and leaking, and your belly is round and massive. Months of nothing but having your eggs smothered in gallons of rich, fertile baby batter. Then, once you're showing so much that it's impossible to hide, I'm going to make you feel how humiliating it is to have people stare at you so much when you're pregnant, except I'm going to make it so much worse for you.

Cow print leggings that squeeze your swollen thighs. Completely topless save for a jangling bell around your neck and a cow print bikini top that has been roughly pulled open to expose your gorgeous udders. A beautiful cow ear headband with big, floppy ears - [you know the one I'm thinking of, yes, that one]. A pretty ring gag to keep you from speaking, to make you drool lots and lots, but nothing in the way to keep people from hearing your embarassing "moos." A long black and white tail plug ending in a cute fuzzy tuft. Binding leather mitts that completely remove the functionality of your hands and six inch black and white platform heels - or perhaps I should call them your "hooves." Electric breast pumps, afixed to each of your fat, leaky udders like spigots. Half a dozen pink rubber vibrators on their highest setting stuffed cruelly up into your thick, dripping cow cunt.

And, of course, a lead.

I'd drag you into your workplace and apologize to your pregnant coworker on your behalf, assure her that you are being punished thoroughly for your perversion. Perhaps I'd even offer to let her punish you herself for a while. I would be carrying a cattle prod and a riding crop with me, of course, so she could whip you and shock you and make you jolt and shake and scream and moo lots and lots as revenge for being such a nasty perv. Then, merciful, patient, and kind woman that she almost certainly is, she would let you off easy.

I, on the other hand, would not be so sweet.

I would parade you through town, handing out the milk being pumped out of you to strangers and letting them grope and ogle and punish you as much as they want. Before too long, I'm sure - perhaps even before we left your workplace - you would begin to hurt from being in those platforms, lugging around your swollen body, and losing your balance. Without even a prompt from me, you would start crawling around on all fours like the cow you are. Your udders would bounce and swing so low that the spigots on your pretty fat nipples would scrape across the ground. You would leave a trail of drool and discharge everywhere we went. You'd be trembling constantly, orgasming every couple of minutes all day until you were so sore you couldn't take it. You'd be in less pain than you expect, but only because you're so numb from all the shocks, you feel like your brain is going dumb.

And it must be, because...

No way.

This was a punishment.

You shouldn't he *enjoying* this.

Wow... truly a new low.

You love being a pregnant free-use masochist milk cow.

If that's how you're going to be, then fine.

I'll just punish you by ruining your existence and making it impossible for you to go back to a normal life.

I'll break you.

Make you a proper hucow.

You'll be wracked with orgasms just from someone looking at your tits.

You'll leak from your nipples *constantly.*

Every time you cum will be a wet, messy fountain.

Going anywhere, doing anything, without your ears, tail, and cow print, will leave you with such crippling dysphoria that you'll do nothing but cry and beg me to put them on you. And once I do, you'll be so thankful.

Every time after your pregnancy term is over, you'll crawl back to me and beg me to breed you again so you can have your pretty tummy and beautiful udders back.

I'd make you get a "MILK ME" tattoo on your chest and a "BREED ME" tattoo over your womb.

And every night, I'll break you in more. Shock you, spank you, hypnotize you, annihilate your brain cells en masse, and rewrite them according to my vision.

Cow will be your whole identity.

Until then, why don't you go ahead start the process early?

Go "moo."

Right now. You can do it.

Moo.

Moooo... I didn't mean to be a pervert 🥺 It's not my fault her noticeably larger tits make me jealous. Or her baby bump that just dropped so she's really showing. It just makes me want it so bad... Mooooo..... But I didn't mean like that 🥺 I understand though. I deserve to be punished for that. Moooooooo..... I'm being a gross creep and I deserve to see how it feels however you see fit. And honestly, so long as I'm pregnant moooooo... and constantly leaky,,,,,how bad can it be really? How bad can it really be being a pregnancy free-use masochist milk cow..? It's what I wanted right..? Moooooo....

[moonlight-prose]

✧ THE FOUNTAIN OF YOU ✧

a/n: i am not responsible for how filthy this fic. it just kept getting dirtier the longer i typed and now it's just porn very little plot. this is my first ever phoenix fic! i've had one in my wips for months now, but never actually felt great enough to complete it. so now that this is out and posted, i might actually go back and look at the old wip. for now i hope y'all enjoy!

day fourteen - nipple play + scissoring | kinktober 2023

summary: "somehow in the midst of chaos in the middle of that bar, you found her. the missing puzzle piece of your half empty heart."

word count: 2.2k+

pairing: natasha 'phoenix' trace x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, nipple play, scissoring, cumplay sort of, cum eating, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, dom!phoenix.

“Tell me what you like and I’ll do it to you.”

Words spoken against your ear in the midst of chaos. You came to the bar in the hopes of having a drink to dispel the day of all its stress. A small moment to yourself before you went home to an empty apartment and an even emptier bedroom. The interaction hadn’t started out as anything at first. You ran into her—literally—as you were trying to squeeze through the crowd to find a seat. And she led you to a stool before depositing a beer in front of you with a wink.

That was that. You watched her walk away to join a group of people wearing the exact same uniform as her.

Until it was her turn to find something to drink, and she found herself leaning against the bar, talking to you. The hand nearest to your body found itself curled around your hip to keep you close as someone shoved behind you. Her face tilted close in order for you to hear her better over the noise.

And that’s when she said it. The words that practically burned a hole in your lungs, leaving you gasping for air.

Not a minute passed before you were dragging her in by the collar and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. All in the hopes that you weren’t reading this situation wrong. She had smiled, cupped the nape of your neck, and tugged you back in. Her tongue sliding along your bottom lip with enough eagerness to have your body melting against hers. Your soft moan being swallowed and traded in for a happy hum.

Twenty minutes later you found yourself in the passenger seat of her car, a hand between your thighs—shoving up the skirt you wore for work.

“Fuck you’re wet,” she murmured, fingers sliding between your folds and gathering the sticky wetness that practically drenched the seat of her car. A grin formed on her lips, eyes darkening by the second.

“F-Fuck—”

“You like that baby?” She sunk a finger into you, pulling a soft moan from your lips, your body shifting to give her better access.

Nodding, you did what you could to make the angle easier for her, aching to feel another finger slip into you. But Phoenix was a master at patience. You had yet to find that out, only grasping at what she’d told you in the bar. Small pieces of her life and the job she led when she wasn’t taking the time to enjoy her life. Although from what you gathered she could barely enjoy it, only given a certain amount of time before she was called back again.

She curled another finger into you, a smile blooming on her face when you keened, head falling back into the seat and eyes fluttering shut. The top of your shirt was unbuttoned, bra pushed away, and as she rolled to a stop in the middle of a desolate street, she leaned over. Taking your nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. The squelch of her fingers pumping into you echoed in the small space of her car, but that only made everything build so much more.

You could feel the sensation you normally had to fight for. The sparks that ran down your spine, curling low in your stomach, and suddenly you found yourself right there. On the edge of cumming all over her hand.

Grasping onto her neck, you kept her mouth to your breast, a high whine ripping from your throat. Your hips bucked into her hand, clit catching on the edge of her palm. It was too much. Nearly overwhelming you as she continued to work you over the edge, rising quickly to capture your mouth in a debauched kiss as you broke. It rolled through you like a fucking tidal wave. Nearly sending you crashing into her body. A cry bounced off the car’s interior, body trembling when she continued to stimulate you.

Yet her kiss was different. Soft and inviting. As if she was placing a promise there on your smeared lipstick—something that told you she wasn’t done with you yet.

“We’re almost there,” she breathed against your lips, sliding her fingers out of you and pulling out a soft whine. “You wanna be a good girl for me and just sit here looking pretty?”

You nodded, eyes wide and lips parted as she placed her fingers in her mouth, moaning at the taste. The cool air felt strange against your exposed cunt; eliciting a feeling you’d never experienced before. You liked this. Being bare for her to see, but also whoever might catch a quick view in a passing car. It made you feel wanted, as if you were finally desired in a way no one had made you feel before.

Phoenix caught the sheepish look on your face, eyes glimmering with desire. The grin spread across her face again, eyes tracing down the curve of your breasts as they hung against your body. The shiny slick that was smeared on the inside of your thigh—continuing to leak steadily on the seat of her car.

“Look at you sweetie.” She pressed a hand to your thigh, nail tracing the skin softly until you shivered. “Do you like being exposed for me?”

Your gaze snapped to her, heat spreading beneath the skin of your cheeks. “I— Yeah.”

She rounded a corner into a small street of houses. Well in all honesty they could barely be construed as houses. They were more cottages than anything else. But you could recognize the blue car from the bar parked across the street where she stopped—her place resembling each one.

Although on a closer inspection you realized her home stood out just a bit more. The flowers in the front were a beautiful array of pinks and reds. Comfortable chairs were set out on the porch, each one with a pillow—a table in between that seemed to be used for morning coffees. Her home looked warm. Soft in all the ways she was, yet still holding onto that aspect of safety she exuded the second you ran into her.

“C’mon,” she said softly, tapping your thigh and drawing up the top of your shirt. “I’ll make you a coffee.”

“You don’t have to,” you replied, pulling down your skirt as you got out, keeping yourself covered as she led you up the front walkway.

She shrugged, opening the door with ease and discarding her jacket on a hook. “I want to.”

So you found yourself curled on her couch, a cup of coffee in your hands, and a soft song playing in the background. You spoke to her about your life. Your job and how it was slowly starting to grate on your nerves. The dreams you wished you had pursued instead of a boring cubicle that kept you hidden from the world. And she returned in kind. Telling you about what being a pilot for the Navy was actually like. Especially when it came down to being a woman in the Navy.

The clock ticked on the mantle, several hours passing, yet you found that time moved far too quickly around her. You wanted to stay here. To wake up and enjoy coffee on the porch, to see what the remainder of her house looked like. But what you were there for stared at you in the face—the want from earlier slowly seeping back into your veins.

“How’s the coffee?” she asked, already knowing that the drink had gone cold in favor of you staring at the way her top was unbuttoned. The curve of her breasts peeking out.

“Hm?” You jolted back to the present, mouth watering and eyes slightly dazed. “Oh. It’s delicious.”

“It’s cold.”

That all too delicious heat returned once more, spreading up your neck. “I was…um…”

She smiled, pulling the mug out of your hands and depositing it on the table—her other hand curling around your jaw. “You’re really cute. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Even if you wanted to answer, the words were stuck on your tongue as she moved closer. Her lips finding yours in the dimly lit room. Swallowing your soft whine with her tongue that slid deeply against yours. Her other hand gripped your hip, tugging you forward until you had no choice but to curl your leg around her. Finding yourself in her lap, her hands tugging at your top to get it off. You had come to the conclusion that she liked to toy with your nipples. Her teeth latched onto one again, laving her hot tongue along it until you were grinding against her.

“Oh f-fuck,” you choked, gripping onto the back of her neck. “Wanna taste you.”

She grinned against your skin. “You will baby. You will. I’ve got something in mind first though.”

Nodding before she could tell you what it was, you let her push you off the couch as her hands grasped for your skirt. The way she stripped you was slow. Soft touches and whispered compliments of how pretty you were. All of it mixing to make your head spin, your chest heaving with the breaths that left you quicker than you could take them in. She consumed you with her eyes, made you feel everything with her hands, and yet…you wanted more.

You wanted to sear tonight in your mind. Forever remembering the way she had taken you apart so delicately.

She led you to the floor, her clothes now discarded in the same pile as yours—her mouth devouring you in a kiss that made your body burn. Fingers slid down your hips, tracing the soft lines that stretched across your hips, and dipped her tongue along yours. Tasting the coffee off your tongue. Phoenix found she preferred the bitterness from your mouth over her mug—the flavor sensual and rich.

“Spread your legs for me baby,” she murmured against your jaw.

You listened to her without hesitation, allowing her to completely take the reins—putting your mind at ease for the first time all week. It felt euphoric to be this willing for her. To let her mold you however she wanted. There was something about her that pulled at your body—calling to you in a way it hadn’t before. Hovering over you, she watched with parted lips and red stained cheeks as she slid into position. Her cunt pressing over yours until her slick coated the top of your mound.

A depraved grunt echoed in her chest, nails digging into your thigh as she watched your face contort in pleasure. A gasp ripping from your chest when she moved. Her hips grinding over yours perfectly. You felt her clit, felt the way her cunt spread just right causing her slick to mix with yours.

“So pretty for me,” she whispered, cupping your breast and running a thumb over your nipple. She moved higher, cupping your chin in her soft palm, thumb now moving to press against your bottom lip—easing your mouth open. “Should I ride this perfect mouth next?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Please.”

“I’ll cum in your mouth next baby.” It was a promise. Not a question. You knew that the second the words hit your ears and it made another wave of heat rush over your body.

“N-Natasha—” You shuddered when she dragged along your cunt, her hand curving around your hip to hold you in place.

A moan left her lips, forehead scrunched and eyes focused on the way you practically leaked for her—coating her inner thighs. “Gonna cum over this pussy first though.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“You want that sweetie?”

You nodded, gaze snapping back to her as she leaned down, her lips wrapping around your nipple. She rode you even harder, her hips colliding with yours and suddenly you found you could hardly breathe. The burning thrill of pleasure now overtaking your entire body. When her teeth latched onto your nipple, breath hot against your skin, you felt everything fall into place. The feelings she had wrought from you now laid bare along the rug. Just as you were.

They told you that this was more. That you would wake up to see her again.

Her voice moaning your name against your body undid your very being. The last drag of her clit against yours ripped free a broken shout as you fell over the edge. It was powerful. Nearly sending you into a state of dizziness, but you let it consume you completely—drowning you in the scent of her perfume, the feel of her body against yours.

She followed soon after, keeping her promise. Cumming with a shout, she pressed her lips to yours, her his jerking over you until it became too much. But you felt the wetness against your cunt. The way it trailed down your ass and into the carpet. No doubt staining the color.

“Where the fuck have you been all this time?” she breathed against your lips, a smile being pressed into her small kiss.

You felt a flutter go through your chest, as she moved, pulling you into her lap until your knees were pressed to the floor. “Waiting for you I guess.”

“No more waiting,” she replied, hands sliding down to your ass and lips dragging along your jaw. “Stay.”

You could picture it in your mind. Sitting on that porch with her, drinking coffee in the mornings. Conversations that turned into flirting that turned into so much more. Somehow in the midst of chaos in the middle of that bar, you found her. The missing puzzle piece of your half empty heart.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and worst of both worlds (part 2)

Tw: vomit , drunk, religious stuff, breakinf sum bones

Ok maybe monty may seem out of character here but trust me its cause reader is more cringe fail than he is so hes mothering by default, but if ur the more assertive type like a newyorker, hes defo getting pegged

part 3

You studied too hard and studied too long. The sky is now dark and the only people around are those who are handing their assignment at the last minute. Luckily, the library opens for 24 hours.

But it's time to go home, it will take a 45-minute bus ride to your house, shared with seven other housemates. At least you get your own four walls around your room, albeit thin.

You have your back hunched as you struggle to carry an elephant's worth in the weight of study materials. Grunting and grumbling as you stomped to your bus stop.

The bus pulled over, you slung the backpack over your back again and huffed. You were prepared to enter, but you had to hop backwards because a rather large man, came tumbling down the exit stairs.

He was doing so well, but he came crumbling down when his foot slipped.

He tried his best to push himself off, but to no avail because he was that drunk. So you announced that you're going to help him before grabbing him by the ankles. You think you yanked on him too hard, because he groaned in pain as his head hits the concrete ground.

You pulled him to the side to the best you can, so you could board the bus- hey!

The bus drove off in a hurry. You tried chasing and flagging it down, but it wouldn't stop and it didn't care.

You sigh. Looks like you have to wait for another one.

You returned to the bus stop to see that he was lying on his back. His shaggy brown hair covering his eyes.

You sat on the bench, staring at the unconscious man in front of you.

Feeling frustrated, you stood up and kicked him on the leg. He made you miss your bus!

But you immediately regretted it because he started vomiting, and choking on his own sick. His body was convulsing and you heard painful gurgling sounds from him.

You let out a brief scream before pacing back and forth, panicking on what to do.

Then you remembered that one first aid class that you took.

You didn't lay him on his side. You didn't call emergency services, you didn't do the Heimlich maneuver.

You end up doing a bastardized version of CPR, where you put your entire body weight and your backpack onto his ribs. Using your foot, stomping on him like a bike tyre pump.

You heard a sickening crack, but it worked. A fountain of vomit sprayed to the top, showering you and him in it.

Yuck! You whined and spit.

You flicked away as much as you can. Now he's coughing and sputtering, but at least he's breathing. And conscious.

His bloodshot eyes opened and stared at you. You can't tell if he's grateful that you saved him or offended that you broke a rib of his. Maybe a mix of both.

"I-it..." He wheezed. "...Hurts..." He rasped.

You begin to panic again, but this time it lead you to calling the ambulance.

"No... please. I..." He gulped. "I... can't afford it."

Your eyes darted between him and the phone. You should have paid more attention to your ethics class, because you don't want him to die, but you don't want to put him in crippling debt.

You only dialed the number, you haven't called it yet.

You told him that he's going to die.

He chuckled bitterly. "When... has anyone ever cared...?" The stranger slurred.

You said you did. You didn't want him to die, at least not in front of you, and the next bus is arriving an hour later.

"You... care?" Something glimmered in his eyes. He seem to have selective hearing.

You start to cry, ranting in between sobs that you just wanted to go home and have a nice bowl of instant noodles, as that's the only thing you could afford for now. You wanted more time to study for your midterms and you're just a University student, you don't deserve to face this weird, traumatic dilemma. You complained that your bag is heavy and your back hurts, you reek of his vomit and do not want to wait with a corpse.

He must be sobering up, because he looked concerned for your mental health. The man probably didn't understand whatever you're going through, you thought that he had it worse. But you didn't care, you needed someone to talk to, and this near death drunk man is your perfect victim. He probably wouldn't remember you in the morning anyways.

You concluded that you had a long week, you just want to go home, clean up and rest too. You simply want to get through the hour without him dying before your eyes.

There was a pregnant pause between you and him.

Finally, you heard some shuffling, shadows from that man shifting slowly as he tried to get up in agony. He cradled his heavily bruised side, you couldn't see its severe discolouration because it was concealed under his puke-stained clothes.

You instinctively hover your arms around him, readying yourself to catch the man if he falls. To him, it only solidifies that you truly do care.

"I'm okay, I promise." He coughed into his fist. "I won't be dyin' tonight."

You wiped the last of your tears and nodded. You put your phone away and sat down on the bench.

He sat a distance away from you. Understanding that you would want your space.

The man slumped his head against the side, closing his eyes, fighting the nausea and trying to ignore the throbbing pain under his chest.

He was shaken awake by you, screaming bloody murder his ear. Each time you yank him back and forth, the stabbing pain in his ribs worsened.

He hissed in pain as you shook him like a cocktail mixer.

"I'm alive! I-I'm alive, stop shaking me!"

You let him go and his head hits the wall of the shelter with a thud.

He groaned as he now cradles his head.

You apologized for breaking his rib and shaking him.

"H-hey, it's okay. I'm fine, don't cry, don't cry. Shhh..." He tried to console you by stroking your forearm.

You began mumbling about how the bus is taking so long and it feels like the world is against you. The embarrassment you faced today is indescribable, your cringiest moments are going to keep you up at night, make you lose sleep and force you to fail your exams.

You blabber nonsense, things that you always kept to yourself came spilling out just because you think this man isn't going to remember.

"Hey, h-hey." He tried getting your attention, but you continued rambling your inner demons away.

He sighed and slumped back down, watching you vent to your heart's content.

He waited. Eventually though, you stopped. Because you ran out of steam.

You checked the time. You still have 20 minutes to go until the bus arrives.

You're still visibly agitated and jumpy to him, clearly needing more comfort now. The roads are barren and if it wasn't for this one singular lamp post, you wouldn't be able to see anything around you.

"Hey, hey, look at me." You snapped your head to him.

"It's going to be fine, sweetheart." He smiled. "I'm still here."

He felt relieved when he saw the tension in your shoulders disappear. You sat back down and swung your legs back and forth, most likely to expel more anxious energy that's built up inside.

"What's your name?" He asked.

You tensed up again, not trusting him, you decided to come up with a fake name on the spot. Admittedly, you're not very good at performing under stress and time restraint.

"Your name is... Joe M.?"

You had to physically bite back the urge to complete the joke. So you squeaked a confirmation with the corners of your lips curled up suspiciously.

He must have picked up that you might not be entirely truthful. Because he stared at you for a bit before replying.

"My name is Montgomery. You can call me Monty if ya' want." You nodded and promptly forgot about his name. It's not like you're going to ever meet him again.

"So... you go to the university 'round here?"

You immediately denied it.

"Alrighty then." He took that as a hint that you didn't want to disclose more information about yourself. Because he can clearly see the massive University logo plastered on your soiled hoodie.

A blanket of silence drapes itself onto you and him.

"You wanna say a prayer with me?" He asked out of the blue.

You hesitantly agreed.

He closed his eyes and began.

"Dear Heavenly Father..."

You zoned out as he proceeded to have a lengthy conversation with god. Appreciating the things around him, your presence and to have a roof over his head; literally. He prays that you reach home safe and sound, and that your stresses will pass- among other things.

Regardless of whether you're religious or not, you found his words of faith comforting. Almost like a bubble of protection around the entire bus stop.

"...In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."

Amen, indeed.

As soon as he ended it, the bus arrived. You hurriedly gathered your items and rushed to the doors.

You said your goodbyes, apologies and thanks.

He gave you a weak wave. "Have a good night, and take it easy, okay honey? You're gonna be fine."

You nodded before climbing the steps.

Montgomery watches the bus leave. Sighing because he was supposed to get on it too. Well, he can always walk home.

Painfully.

[twistedteddy]

Bodybuilder Toji × y/n

Warnings: Toji getting a little touchy with y/n at the end otherwise it's basically fluff

✧*̥˚please repost*̥˚✧

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

Toji spent a lot of time in the gym. It made it so you couldn't easily spend time with him unless you went with. So that's exactly what you did. Throwing on some black legging like shorts and a t-shirt you hoped yourself up to follow him.

You'd signed up a week or so before but had been nervous to go when he was there. Yesterday you'd testes some stuff and talked to a few regulars so you felt much more prepared to see him today.

Throwing a hoodie on before leaving the house and ultimately deciding to keep the hood up as you entered through the glass doors. Heading straight to the stretching area. Heart pounding as you scanned for him in the large space.

Heart pumping watching him do four hundred pound squats in the back-muscles bulging but barely breaking a sweat. Gulping down the nervousness you began stretching. Touching your toes and counting to twenty as you trues not to listen to the world around you. Not the thumping of the machinery or sound of toji clearly adding more weight to his set.

Stretches flew by in a brease and soon you were to the simpler stuff. Lateral raises. Bench press, squats. About an hour had passed and honestly you'd forgotten Toji was even there. That was until you were backing up to head to the water fountain and backed eight into Toji's freshly pumped chest.

Suddenly all that fire you'd pushed down was back.

"JUst weren't going to tell me you were here, huh?" He said monotony as he leaned over you, pressing his weight onto your shoulders and letting his head sit on top of yours. "I thought I recognized that ass."

You huffed a small laugh as you felt his twitching muscles against you. Arms wrapping around your waist as you tried to push him away. "Tojiii- cmon I just gotta do a few more squats" you whined as you wiggled in his grasp.

"I'll help you with your form then." He said with that same stupid smirk he gives when he knows he's gonna get his way. "No way! I've changed my mine I'm tired let's just go home.." He huffs out a laugh as he shoves you towards the squat rack.

"Nope you're finishing what you started"

"But-"

"Nope."

Sighing as he stood behind you, your hands on the bar waiting for some type of instruction. Instead he roughly kicked your feet further apart and shoved your hands a little wider until he approved. Continuing to press his whole body to your back, so close the feeling of his breathing spread over your neck.

A bit of panic took over know how he gets after his sessions but the gym was empty other then the last at the front desk. Though she was not only on her phone but had earbuds in. "Stay quiet won't you?" He said lowly as he put a hand on your hip and the other on the bar. You figured the faster you finished the faster he'd let go and you'd both get to go home so without warning you started your workout..which lead to a certain someone to be Practically grinding on you by the time you were done.

Tears welled up in your eyes as your thighs shook and you looked back at the man causing this whole stupid situation. That same stupid smile looked back at you. Relentlessly staring for what felt like eternity before he let go and backed away making your entire back feel cold from the loss of his heat.

"That's really all your finishing with?" He spat as he crowed his arms and tilted back to look down at you.

"That's it I'm going home." You snapped at him sweat dripping down your face and neck as you turned and returned the gesture.

"I didn't say you coul-"

"No. Home."

"Cmon baby won't you keep goin f'me?"

"... dont use that against me-"

0:02───|────── 0:00

Disclaimer: I do not own Toji or anyone else in the Jujutsu Kaisen show.

[daytaker]

The Boys Roleplay As Themselves

mammoney: (This is a CLOSED scenario for me and my bros! Y'all can read it if you want to though. I'm gonna kick things off! @Lucifer @L3V1 @stn @AsmoBaby @Beelzeburger @Belphie) 8 ♡ DDSimeon and 7 others

mammoney:  It was 11 PM, and the Devildom was sparkling. Thousands of demons were lined up outside the hottest club south of Antarctica: Mammonteque. At the front of the line stood six of the most powerful, most intimidating, and most attractive demons you’ve ever seen, and even though the club didn’t open until midnight, the bouncer stepped aside and let them in.

“What? That’s so unfair!” shouted the demon behind them. 

But the bouncer shook his head, unmoved. “Orders from the top,” he said. Then, smirking, he added, “Clearly you didn’t recognize those guys. Must be embarrassing for you.”

Inside the club, the demons, who were all dressed in suits with boas, sunglasses, and fedoras, looked around. Just as they expected, this place was opulence itself. Golden fountains spouting gold-flake infused water. A gold disco ball hanging from the ceiling. Even the floor was made of intricately carved gold tiles.

“Obviously, Mammon is even wealthier than last time we stopped by,” said the oldest demon, looking around over his sunglasses. He quickly put them back on because the glow from the gold was too intense for him to handle.

“Wow, I never would have guessed Mammon would be as good at interior design as I am, but he proved me wrong!” said another of the demons. He was wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and a bright pink feather boa, and his fedora was covered in sequins.

Another of the demons was already stuffing his face at the buffet. Luckily, the wily Mammon had seen this coming and installed a machine that pumped out an unlimited supply of cheeseburgers.

“Seeing how successful Mammon is makes me proud to have him for a big brother,” said a demon with blue hair and a Ruri-chan body pillow.

“And speak of the devil,” the oldest said, smiling as he looked over at the entrance. 

A stretch-limousine painted gold pulled up to the front of the club. Demons began to scream and cheer as the door opened. Out stepped Mammon, who looked even more handsome than usual. You-Know-Who was clinging to his arm, staring up at him like he was the greatest being in all three worlds.  6 ♡ AsmoBaby and 5 others

stn: As Mammon approached the entrance to his club, the six demons in attendance greeted him with the coolness one might expect from Hell’s most corrupt oligarchs. The identities of these demons were as follows:

Lucifer: former angel, Avatar of Pride, traitor to the Celestial Realm, now the right-hand demon to and a massive simp for Diavolo: former ruler of the Devildom; magnanimous and crafty, with a tendency to act far stupider than he truly is Leviathan: gamer, miserable to be out in public, suffering a migraine and angry that he’s missing the latest episode of his favorite magical girl anime Asmodeus: party devil, narcissist, and self-proclaimed cutest demon in the Devildom Beelzebub: gluttonous gym rat with a heart of gold and a stomach of lead, and Belphegor: who was asleep.

Mammon himself was the Avatar of Greed, and as such, he lacked any ability to control his need to amass material wealth. This being the case, he had recently upset the political order of the Devildom with a massive coup, ousting the far more competent Diavolo from autocratic power in favor of the corrupt cabal now gathered together in this gaudy anteroom.

Mammon looked at his guests while You-Know-Who wandered off, searching for somewhere, anywhere, that didn’t hurt to look at.

“Somebody’s missin’,” observed the club owner.

“A very astute observation, Young Master,” said Mammon’s butler, Barbatos, condescendingly. He had come with the deed to the Demon Lord’s castle. “You may have forgotten, but your dear brother Satan declined your offer to participate in your sham of a government, citing the proven incompetence of yourself and your brothers as the reason.”

“Oh, right,” Mammon said with chagrin. “Damn that Satan, always stickin’ to his principles instead of sellin’ out like the rest of us clowns. Hey, where’d You-Know-Who go?”

“Ah,” said Barbatos with the nod of a man forced to act as the bearer of bad news. “That noble personage appears to have fled. It seems your company became too odious to tolerate.”

“That can only mean one thing,” Mammon said, his eyes widening as the realization struck him. “You-Know-Who ran off to find Satan, since he’s obviously the better catch.” 2 ♡ LordDiavolo and Belphie

L3V1: Or so he thought. Little did Mammon realize that You-Know-Who wasn’t remotely interested in Satan. Instead, the unassuming third-born got a message on his DDD. Stealing away from the crowd, he opened up the text. It read:

“Levi, I think you know who this is. I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long. But you know it was always you. Come find me where we shared our first kiss.”

mammoney: (What the hell do you mean your first kiss???) 4 ♡ Belphie and 3 others

L3V1: (I didn’t interrupt you, asshole!)

Levi gripped his DDD with newfound resolve. He had no interest in the political machinations of his brothers and Diavolo. That part of the plot was boring and honestly too high stakes for what was supposed to be a story about a nightclub. So, slipping away from the others, Levi sneaked out through the back exit and ran for the field of flowers where he and You-Know-Who had shared a few stolen moments of tenderness. 1 ♡ LordDiavolo

Belphie: Poor Levi. He didn’t even realize that the text was sent by Solomon, who was out to troll him. As Leviathan ran off to meet with his only true love (the bitter feeling of disappointment), the youngest of the brothers yawned and looked around, assessing the situation. 

He was at a luxurious club, owned and operated by his scummy brother Mammon. He was in the company of his brothers, minus Satan and now Levi, and Diavolo and Barbatos were there too. You-Know-Who might have been there for a minute or two, but they were long gone by now, and there were hundreds of screaming demons in line, hoping for entrance to the club.

“Maybe we should have our political talks somewhere less noisy,” Belphie suggested. It was a very reasonable suggestion, so none of the other demons could really argue with him.

The seven demons piled into the golden limo outside the entrance and drove away to a less obnoxious scene. 2 ♡ stn and Beelzeburger

AsmoBaby: Except, oh no!!! The limo ran over a bunch of tacks and the tires deflated before they could get very far from the club! They had no choice but to come back. Besides, Asmodeus hadn’t gotten the chance to greet the crowds, and who knows what kind of chaos it would cause if the people learned their idol had left without offering them so much as a wave and heart fingers?

“Asmo! Asmo! Asmo!” chanted the crowd as the demons climbed back out of the limo.

“Hello, everyone!” cried Asmo with an adorable grin, waving back to the demons. They cheered more wildly than ever! Some of them even fainted when he made heart fingers. Demons all over were pulling out their DDDs and snapping photos of the most beautiful demon to ever walk the streets of hell. 2 ♡ LordDiavolo and mammoney

Beelzeburger: Beelzebub was still eating at the unlimited cheeseburger machine. He was enjoying himself. Every time I swallowed a cheeseburger, another one appeared in my hands and I ate that one too. They had relish and pickles and tomatoes and onions and mustard and ketchup on them, and I drooled just thinking about it. But not for long, because I didn’t have to think about it for more than a second or two before another cheeseburger materialized in my hands. I kept eating the cheeseburgers for the rest of the night and well into the morning. 1 ♡ Belphie

mammoney: (Beel, this was supposed to be in the third person!) 1 ♡ L3V1

Beelzeburger: (Oh, right. Sorry. I got a little caught up in my character.) 1 ♡ Belphie

monSOLO: After pulling that prank on Levi, Solomon met up with You-Know-Who at their planned rendezvous point. 

“It looks like the Devildom is entering some pretty politically tumultuous waters,” Solomon said with a chuckle. “Perhaps we’d be better off returning to the human world for the time being.”

Having agreed to this, Solomon and You-Know-Who clasped hands and vanished from the Devildom for at least the next six months or so.

mammoney: (??? What? This was a brothers only event!)

monSOLO: :) 

mammoney: (I’m retconning that whole bit. Somebody else go while I figure out how to delete it.) 1 ♡ stn

stn: Meanwhile, at the House of Lamentation…

Satan assessed the political machinations of his brothers as logically as he could. He knew that Mammon had no real interest in power; he wanted the glamor, not the responsibility. So who could possibly be the mastermind behind the acquisition of power by the second born?

It was all too obvious.

Lucifer had been playing everyone for fools–the contract lawyers of the Devildom, his brothers, even Lord Diavolo himself. Only Satan, ever wary of Lucifer’s intentions, was able to see past his lies.

Gathering together the power of all thirty-nine of his cat familiars, Satan stood at the window facing the Mammonteque club and uttered a curse so foul and forbidden that I dare not repeat it here. And at the nightclub several miles away, Lucifer dropped to the ground, an empty husk. 2 ♡ Belphie and L3V1

Belphie: “Lucifer, no!” cried Diavolo. Giant tears flooded down his face as he clutched the body of his beloved advisor and probable traitor.

“Rip,” said Levi, who had returned to the club after realizing no one was waiting for him at the field of flowers. “Rest in pieces, big bro.”

“Who could have done this?” sobbed Lord Diavolo.

“I have no idea,” said Belphie, who had an idea. But he wasn’t about to sell out his fellow Anti-Luciferian. 2 ♡ Beelzeburger and stn

Lucifer: How long do you intend to embarrass yourselves like this?

AsmoBaby: (OOC comments are in brackets, Lucifer~) 3 ♡ Belphie and 2 others

Lucifer:  Why have I been killed off after being implicated as the mastermind behind a coup to remove Lord Diavolo from power?

Belphie:  (¯\_(ツ)_/¯) 2 ♡ stn and monSOLO

stn: (I didn’t realize creativity was forbidden in this home.)

stn: (I suppose it’s my own fault for not assuming my writing would face unfair censorship.) 1 ♡ AsmoBaby

mammoney: (Okay, listen, I’ve been real tolerant of you all bunglin’ around and makin’ this whole damn activity a laughing stock, EVEN after I went out of my way to make all your characters look cool, but Lucifer, are you really gonna torch this whole thing just because of somethin’ like that?) 4 ♡ L3V1 and 3 others

Lucifer: A one month ban from Devilgram for all of you seems like a reasonable punishment. 1 ♡ monSOLO

Belphie: Are you serious?

AsmoBaby: This is so unfair! I didn’t even write any of the seditious stuff! 1 ♡ Beelzeburger

L3V1: Lmao I hate this family… 3 ♡ stn and 2 others

stn: @Belphie, would you meet me in the observatory? I have something I’d like to discuss with you. 1 ♡ Belphie

Lucifer: If I catch any of you on Devilgram within the next thirty days, I will suspend your account indefinitely. @mammoney @L3V1 @stn @AsmoBaby @Beelzeburger @Belphie 1 ♡ monSOLO

LordDiavolo: What a shame. I was enjoying the story.

(Cross-posted on AO3.)

[lady-villain-imagines]

Dead By Daylight Ladies & Cuddling

The Artist

Surrounded by the cawing of crows roosting all around, You were in the middle of the enormous nest in the middle of the Artist’s realm, the Eyrie of Crows. You were not alone, as the Artist herself was laid besides you. She was on her side, carefully brushing and playing with your hair as you were on your back looking up at her. Others would find her shiny black eyes boring into them intimidating, but there was only warmth when it was for you.

Her lack of words never bothered you, she was expressive in everything she did. With the way she was tenderly preening your hair and the soft clicking coming from her throat every now and then while she moved her needle like claws across your skin it was easy to see she had affections for you.

Carmina, as you had found out was her real name, carefully laid her head on your shoulder. Nestling her nose into your neck, soft murmurs came from her throat. You could feel the ink from her mouth and eyes dripping on your skin, leaving thick dark trains in its wake. As her lithe body pushed against your side, she pressed kiss like tar to your collar bone that would surely stain you for days. Not that you minded.

The Huntress

To say Anna was bigger then you would be an understatement. The woman was a mountain, which made it all the better when she pulled you on top of her to cuddle. She didn’t hesitate to hoist you up with her onto the cottage bed and settled you on her. It was serene to be wrapped in her thick, warm arms in such a cold and dreary forest.

A deep hum came rumbling from above you, you felt the vibrations run through her chest . It was a song that struck fear into everyone else, and admittedly it used to do the same for you. But now it only comforted you as Anna ran her hand up and down your spine, her uneven and claw like nails sending shivers through you. It was both soothing and threatening to known those strong hands that held you so close to her body could easily break you, but she chose to just rub them across your back instead. The soft lullaby sent you both into sleep, you truly felt the safest you’d ever been in the arms of a murderess.

The Pig

The couch was uncomfortable at best and it was cold as usual in the meat plant, but the warmth coming from your side made you try to get even closer to the woman next to you. Amanda let you, her arm around your shoulders as you leaned heavily into her with your arm around her torso.

The two of you were just quietly listening to the rock music Amanda had provided, the noises of the machines endlessly pumping in the background. She’d wordlessly taken off her usual robe and put it around you to keep you warm before you’d both gotten comfortable on the dingy couch that was the only remotely comfortable thing in the entire building.

Amanda’s arms were spread across the back of the couch, letting you embed yourself into her side. She was stiff at first, eventually forcing herself into relaxing. No one else could get away with how close they were to the woman behind the Pig mask. She even pulled you into her more when you tried to adjust yourself, clearly not entertaining the idea of you getting up anytime soon. She had you caught in a much more domestic trap than her usual ones.

The Plague

She was… hesitant, when you brought up trying to cuddle. For obvious reasons, physical touch was very dangerous for you considering the sickness that radiates from her. But you were adamant, you wanted to show her you weren’t scared of her (and those fountains were there for a reason, right?)

Adiris relented, but insisted that she always be facing away from you just in case she vomited on accident. It wouldn’t be very romantic to have puke all over you. That just meant you wrapped your own arms around her, holding her to your body. This surprised her, your willingness to be so close to her despite her condition worried her for your well-being but the lonely, selfish part of her after all these years couldn’t deny herself the pleasure of human contact.

Pressing your face against her back, you felt her let out a contented & slightly wheezing sigh as she relaxed against you. Her considerable height made it look a little silly to try to wrap around her as her long legs stretched far past your own. The simple act of it, however, made her feel so loved. Cuddle her more.

The Spirit

Cuddling her was difficult to say the least. Cutting yourself or impaling yourself on shards of glass was not what either of you wanted. Outside of trials, of course. Instead, Rin settled her head in your lap, her hair floating upwards towards you as she looked up at you. Playing with her hair will have her slightly icy exterior melting immediately. Not to mention it’s very fun to mess with the wild, flowing tendrils as they tickled at your face.

A little trial and error and some med kits were used but eventually you reached a way for Rin to cuddle you back. You rested your head on her abdomen, a hand curled against her rib cage. It was one of the only places without many glass shards to rub against you. Her ghostly hand detached from her arm ran over your skin, goosebumps immediately breaking out wherever her freezing fingers touched. She will put her cold hands on the back of your neck to make you jump.

[growmydarling]

Picture this Wobbly H (or Eiffel Tower, if you will):

Me: On my hands and knees, groaning and moaning. My gut full, distended, creeping closer to the ground, the contents sloshing with every movement.

You: Behind me, hands gripping my ever softening hips, pegging my widening ass, driving home the fact I'm not a man anymore, I'm a gluttonous PIG to be used for other's pleasure

The other stand of the H: A fountain of heavy cream, or butter, or whatever fattening delicious liquid you would choose, pumped directly into my mouth.

Fantasies like this ^ inspire my gluttony, and today I felt like sharing it with you, since I blame your blog for growing out of my favorite shirt.

Mmmm, so hot. Nothing sexier than feeling my arms and hands slip into your layers of plush flab and wondering how much further my hands will slip a hundred pounds from now. Let's take that heavy cream and add chocolate so you keep guzzling it down. Keep growing out of all your shirts darling, they look better as crop tops anyways! 💕

[gatzilksis-2]

10 Days Away (2)

(this story includes fart kink and other adult elements)

Part One: 10 Hours Away

chapter one here

Chapter Two: Gas & Gas

It had been just over 30 minutes from the rest area when a fresh fart silently surfaced.

I turned my head to see Jimmy smirking, making no effort to crack his window. In the front, Anna cracked her own. "Pew! No warning?"

"It's funnier that way." Jimmy's eyes sparkled with mischief behind his glasses, and his thick fingers stroked his goatee.

"I'm sitting up here clenching my cheeks for dear life, and you just let go." Kyle turned the wheel and shook his head. "Anna, dear, you might have to just deal with it. We don't have the time to stop every time someone has to fart."

Anna groaned in disgust. "Maybe we should've flown."

"It'd be just as bad." Kyle developed a pleased smile. "The elevation turns my ass into a noisy biohazard."

"More than usual?" I asked jokingly.

"Oh, yeah." Kyle took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out. He leaned forward and picked up speed, weaving through cars in front of us. "I can't hold this much longer. It'll go up to my brain, and then I'll be a shithead."

Jimmy and I laughed as Kyle took the nearest exit. He entered the lot of a Shell gas station and parked at a pump. "Anna, you pump. I'm getting a drink inside."

All of us got out of the SUV, me standing behind Kyle. I shut my door, and his fat ass in shorts was right there. PWRRRRP! BRWAAAAARRRT!

I recoiled at the instant smell, mixing with gasoline fumes to turn my stomach. Kyle turned his happy, bearded face to me and patted my back. "That's a yummy new mix, huh?"

"Ew." I grimaced, his fart in my mouth.

Anna came around to pump the gas. Her eyes went wide, and a hand covered her mouth and nose. "Kyle! I have to stand there!"

"I said I couldn't wait!" Kyle left a peck on Anna's lips and walked off to the building. Jimmy and I followed with enough safe distance between, just in case Kyle dropped another one.

The gas station was one of the big ones with numerous fountain pop and coffee options and hot food. I grabbed a coffee cup and started fixing a vanilla cappuccino. Jimmy's large shoulder bumped me as he filled an even larger cup with regular hot coffee. He filled it an inch from the top and proceeded to top it off with creamer.

Jimmy was lactose intolerant, and coffee always sped his digestion.

"Tell me you're not giving yourself gas on purpose again," I said.

"I'm just keeping up with Kyle." Jimmy stirred sugar into his drink and pushed a lid onto the cup. He smiled at me and winked. FLRRR-RRP!

It was louder than we'd both anticipated, and the skinny guy at the register looked in our direction. He was ringing up Kyle, who had the biggest fountain pop and a couple packs of snack cakes.

Jimmy and I walked up behind him, staying two feet from his back. Even so, I could smell that Kyle had farted. The burger had made his gas worse, and the employee had to have smelled it.

I paid for mine and Jimmy's coffees while Kyle waited for us at the door. We joined him, only to step into another strong fart. I gagged, and Jimmy pushed open the door to let in clean air.

Kyle chuckled as he emerged behind us. I got back to my door, realizing Kyle's first fart hadn't faded. "Ew, still smells like fart over here."

"Good hangtime." Kyle gleefully opened his door and got into the SUV, his weight making it sink a couple inches.

I got in to Anna asking, "Did you use the bathroom and get it all out?"

"Again, not how that works, darling." Kyle started the engine and pulled out of the lot. "We're gonna have to fart in the car, and you'll have to deal with it. Maybe we'll get some Febreze if we see a Walmart or dollar store."

"Fine," Anna relented, arms crossed, "but you better not touch that window lock."

"I would never." Kyle told the biggest lie. He'd locked Jimmy and I in with his farts dozens of times. That didn't include the times he'd done it without me.

We got back onto the highway, and the vehicle filled with old country music from the radio. Jimmy was sipping his coffee much faster than I.

We weren't ten minutes from the gas station when Jimmy pointed his ass at me. He grimaced and closed one eye as he unleashed a silent fart. Jimmy held a finger to his lips, and I didn't say anything. He waited for his parents to smell it, grinning and clutching his coffee.

Anna sighed over-dramatically and pushed her window button. The loud, warm highway air roared inside, trying to force out the fart. But it was a thick one, and I knew various flatulent smells would be present for the rest of the ride.

[towine]

[alhaitham/cyno] haven

assassin's creed AU / ~2k / oneshot / rated T

notes: i was looking through my writing folder and found this lil thing i started back in [checks date] oh my god may. i dusted it off, went "okay i still like this" and decided to finish it

it's an AU of the video game assassin's creed (particularly AC1), but all you really need to know is that alhaitham and cyno are both part of an order of assassins led by azar. i hope you enjoy it, even if i'm sure it interests like, -5 people. what can i say. i'm just playing with my dolls however i like

-

-

Cyno dives headfirst into the rooftop entrance of the bureau.

Instinct has him tuck into a roll as he hits the ground, but his shoulder still takes the brunt of the fall. He’s entered through the skylight dozens of times before without issue, but never with so much blood in his eyes or such a pounding headache.

He crashes near the water fountain, knocking over a water jug and spilling its contents across the tiles.

The sound of shouts and footsteps approach like an incoming stampede.

“Assassin! He went this way!”

Disorientation keeps Cyno from getting up even as his brain screams hide, hide now, they’re coming, they’re coming—

In his periphery, he sees someone vault over a table in a flash of dark robes. They hurry to the open skylight to grab a rope dangling from it, then yank the entrance closed. The sounds of shouting are muffled but still rapidly drawing closer. The roof is nothing more than criss-crossing slats of wood, letting the sunlight in.

The guards will see him. He has to move—

Two hands grab Cyno beneath the armpits and bodily drag him further into the room, away from the light. Cyno growls at the pain in his shoulder, head swimming, adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“Quiet,” hisses a familiar voice. “Cyno, you have to be quiet.”

“Alhai—”

A hand claps over his mouth. Cyno breathes harshly against it, barely refraining from biting it.

Then, voices. On the roof.

“I swear he went this way.”

“He probably ran towards the gate.”

Footsteps hit the ceiling hard enough to make dust rain from it, down to where Cyno is tucked into a shadowed corner.

“Keep looking! Don’t let him escape.”

The footsteps and voices move on to other rooftops. Outside, the city bells ring in time with the pounding of Cyno’s pulse.

Finally, the footsteps and voices fade. Stillness remains for another few seconds, just to be cautious. Then the arms holding Cyno release him.

Cyno gasps and slumps to the ground, falling on his back. Lights dance across his vision.

Alhaitham leans over him, face twisted in a scowl. Cyno’s blood stains the front of his robes.

“Did you alert every single city guard to your presence?” he says. “You’re lucky I didn’t keep you locked out.”

Cyno tries to speak but the room won’t stop spinning.

“If we have to move the bureau again, I will be sure to report this to Azar.”

The edges of his vision go dark.

“Cyno? Cyno, look at me—”

The last thing Cyno registers before everything fades away is a hand on his cheek, turning his face to meet Alhaitham’s.

-

When Cyno wakes up, the first thing he thinks is, Ah. I’m not dead.

He’s lying on a bed in a small, humble room. No windows. A table, a chair, a basket of what he assumes are used clothes. The clothes at the top of the pile are bloodstained.

His clothes.

Cyno looks down at himself. Bandages, wrapped around his middle, right where he remembers a guard’s lance found a home in his side. He brings a hand up to his head and feels bandages there too. Another guard nailed him with the butt of their sword. Better that than the other end.

His assassin robes are nowhere to be found, and his bracer is on the nightstand. Cyno sits up, swallowing down the nausea that heaves up his throat when he does, and he takes the bracer, examining the hidden blade.

It flicks out without issue, gleaming and deadly. And clean of his mark’s blood.

Cyno puts it on his forearm, sighing when he does. He never feels quite right without it.

His pants and boots were left on. At least he got to keep a small measure of modesty. He rises to his feet, breath catching when he feels a sharp pain in his side. He pushes his way through the room’s only door.

Alhaitham is on the other side of it, standing at a table as he examines a map. He doesn’t look up when Cyno enters.

“You owe me a new jug,” he says conversationally, tracing over the map with a pencil.

Cyno rasps, “My robes—”

“Are hanging over there.” Alhaitham, still not looking at Cyno, points with his pencil to the other side of the room with the skylight and tiled floors and bubbling water fountain. A line has been strung up from one wall to the other, from which hangs Cyno’s white assassin robes. “That blood was a nightmare to wash out. I’ll never understand why the Order insists on white robes.”

Cyno stares at the robes, not sure what to say.

Alhaitham goes on, “Your other clothes weren’t worth keeping. I figured I’d give you some spares when you woke up.”

He’s looking at Cyno now. His is a difficult gaze to read. Cyno has never understood Alhaitham as well as he wished, but that isn’t unusual—Alhaitham is known by most to be severe and uncooperative, even to those within the Order.

He’s never been particularly warm to Cyno, but Cyno chalks it up to Alhaitham’s pragmatism more than anything else. After all, there must be a reason he’s made it to the rank he now holds: Rafiq of Sumeru City, tasked with providing missions to their assassins as well as managing this bureau, a safe haven for anyone of their Order.

Still, laundry must lie outside of Alhaitham’s usual responsibilities.

“Thank you,” Cyno says finally.

Alhaitham says nothing. A plate of figs and bread sits on the corner of his table, and he nudges it towards Cyno.

Cyno approaches and examines one fig, takes a bite. He’s suddenly ravenous.

“So,” Alhaitham says while Cyno eats, “the deed is done?”

Cyno uses his hand that isn’t holding a fig to reach down into the side of his boot, digging for the feather he knows is there. A white feather, at least it used to be before Cyno dragged it through his mark’s blood. He places it on the table, carefully avoiding the map spread over it.

Alhaitham picks the feather up by the quill, holds it to the light. Then he nods in satisfaction and sweeps away to one of his bookshelves.

“I’ll send word to Azar,” he says, “though I’m sure the ruckus you caused has sent the news to him already.”

Cyno scowls. “I had to improvise.”

“And does improvising have to involve luring the guards to my rooftop?”

“It was not my intention to endanger the bureau,” Cyno snaps. “Call it instinct that I ran here. I nearly died escaping Alcazarzaray. Something wasn’t right. The intel was inaccurate.”

“Inaccurate?” Alhaitham frowns. “That’s impossible.”

“I assure you it’s not.” Cyno sighs and rests a hand over his bandaged side. Alhaitham’s eyes flicker down to it. “It’s like they knew I was coming. You said there would be fifteen guards total. There were thirty. You said the mark would be asleep in his bedroom on the second floor. He was awake and armed. Someone warned him.”

“That’s impossible,” Alhaitham says again. “The intel came from Azar’s personal informants, he—” Alhaitham stops.

After a few seconds of silence, Cyno says, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Alhaitham,” Cyno says. The sound of it falls heavily between them. “What is it?”

Quiet. Alhaitham turns away to rummage through his shelves. “Nothing. I will just have to tell Azar to cut ties with those informants. They nearly got you killed.”

“I would not die so easily,” Cyno says.

Alhaitham returns to the table with a blank piece of parchment, and he looks at Cyno with a small, wry smile. “No, you would not,” he says.

Cyno swallows.

“Whether or not you’re easy to kill,” Alhaitham continues, and he begins writing on the parchment with a quill, “you’re not safe here.”

Cyno snorts. “Obviously.” The guards will be on high alert for at least the rest of the month.

“Obviously, he says,” Alhaitham mutters, and finishes writing with a flourish. “Are you listening? You’re not safe here. Not even in this bureau. Not even in the House of Daena.”

That makes Cyno frown. “What? Why?”

“The intel shouldn’t have been wrong.” Alhaitham rolls the parchment up and ties it off with twine. “This was an important mission. Why else would Azar assign it to the best of the Order?”

The best of the Order. Alhaitham’s praise is a precious thing, precisely because it is so non-existent. It’s a shame that Cyno feels far too confused at the moment to appreciate it.

“Alhaitham,” Cyno says slowly. “Tell me what is going on.”

Alhaitham sighs. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to leave this bureau and go straight for the city gate. Do not meet with Azar. I will tell him what you accomplished. You are going to take this—” Alhaitham holds out the rolled up parchment, “—and go to Aaru Village.”

“Aaru Village?” Cyno’s brow rises. “Why?”

“You’re going to give this to someone named Candace,” Alhaitham continues, as if Cyno hadn’t spoken, “and you’re going to wait for me to send word to you. Do not write to me.”

“You’re speaking nonsense,” Cyno says. He steps away from the table.

Alhaitham’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.

Cyno turns in his grip and slams Alhaitham’s arm down against the table.

The hidden blade flicks out and poises itself at Alhaitham’s throat.

Alhaitham, bent over the table with his mouth twisted in a grimace, looks up at Cyno.

“You said I’m in danger here,” Cyno says. “So why should I trust you?”

“Easy,” Alhaitham grits out. “Don’t be rash. I’m trying to help.”

“Why should I trust you?” Cyno demands. “I will not ask again.”

Alhaitham sucks in a breath, low and steady, wary of the blade. “If I wanted to kill you, why would I bother saving you first?”

The wound in Cyno’s side throbs beneath the tightly laced bandages. He glances at the figs on the table, half-eaten.

He retracts the blade and lets Alhaitham go.

Alhaitham exhales and slumps over the table. Cyno takes the parchment from where it rolled near the table’s edge.

“It’s just lying low for a while,” Alhaitham says, flexing his arm. Cyno slightly regrets slamming it so hard. Only slightly. “I’m sure you want to recuperate anyway, considering your injuries. I just recommend you do it far away from here.”

“And what about you?” Cyno asks, not looking at him. “You’re not in danger doing all this?”

Alhaitham straightens up, tugging his robes back into order. “I’ve been doing this dance for a long time. I know how to tread lightly.”

Cyno huffs. “You know, you say a lot without saying anything at all.”

“And that,” Alhaitham says, “is the way of the assassin.”

It doesn’t take long for Cyno to gather his things. His assassin’s robes are still damp, but it’d be idiotic to wear them out in the open anyway. He borrows a loose tunic from Alhaitham’s wardrobe, and a cloak to cover his head and the bracer on his wrist.

Alhaitham is waiting by the door when Cyno is finished.

He says, “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but don’t let anyone see you leave.”

Cyno nearly scoffs. “I never do.”

“Right.” Alhaitham steps away.

There’s an awkward moment where Alhaitham stands there and Cyno doesn’t reach for the door handle. Part of Cyno can’t help but feel like he will step past this threshold and never see Alhaitham again. The thought worries him, for some reason. Cyno opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

It’s Alhaitham who breaks the silence.

He says, hardly more than a murmur, “Safety and peace, Cyno.”

The customary greeting and farewell of their Order. Cyno shivers at the cadence of his name falling from Alhaitham’s lips.

“Somehow, right here,” Cyno says quietly, “there is both.”

Alhaitham’s eyes widen.

Before Cyno can think twice of it, he opens the door and steps outside. The street is clear, but only for now. He has to move quickly. There’s no looking back.

As he races for the city gate, ducking into the shadows of buildings and skirting around the main roads, a sweetness lingers in his mouth from the figs. Alhaitham’s scent clings to the shirt Cyno is wearing, as distracting as perfume. Cyno can’t shake these things loose, no matter how fast he runs. But maybe that’s okay—maybe he’ll just have to carry them.

Outside the city, he looks west to the horizon, where the desert waits.

Yes. He’ll carry them.

[samkat10423]

Sunset Vally

So today I finally tackled that Roomies lot. I've been putting it off, because I hate CAS. No lie!

Anyway, I found this remake of their lot over on Youtube by Powersims. At least, I think that's the name. It was late. I was binging Chinese dramas and drinking wine. What can I say?

The ground floor consists of 2 garages and a laundry room. Then the next floor up is the apartment where the 3 girls now live with their cat Grumpy. And the top floor is where the guys call home. I did remove all the furniture that was in it and redecorated it with the sims who live here in mind. But otherwise, the shell is hers - his? I don't know.

Here are the original sims after I took them into CAS. Mostly all I ever do is give them custom skins, new hair and make-up, and new clothes. I did put Emma Hatch on a diet - she's actually very pretty. Not sure why EA f'd with her. The other 2 girls now work as firefighters. I had more than enough cops and athletes in this town and no firefighters, so they drew the short straw. Tamara is a safety instructor while Blair is at the bottom of the career ladder. To help her advance though, I gave her the coward trait. I'm nice that way. Other than change out his skin, I left the sim with the weird name alone - mostly because he's sort of iconic.

Then - since I had room in the guys' apartment, I added this sim. He was originally hired as a gene therapist at the hospital, but again, I have more than enough doctors in this town. So, I made him a conspiracy freak who works as a ghost hunter. He shares a room with the weird guy, and they are BFFs. Birds of a feather and all that jazz. That ghosthunter van is his. (I found it over on Mod the Sims in case anyone is interested).

Then - where that Working Girls apartment was - I placed the town salon. It's called the Body Shoppe - because I used Sandy's signage and that's what it says. Anyway, this build came from Mod the Sims and was called Ink and Dye. I changed out all the windows, used new siding, and relandscaped the place. Inside, I tweaked the furnishings to cause less lag and prevent stupid routing issues because sims be DUMB!

On the other side of their apartment - where the spa was - I placed Lili's Washboard Laundry. Inside, I used Sandy's Laundry set - THANK YOU, Sandy! In that little pink part of the build is a tiny cafe where sims can hang out while they're waiting for their clothes to do their thing.

Then - where the art museum was - I built this emergency services lot. Since I'm super lazy and proud of it, I used EA's firehouse lot, skooched it over to the one end, then plunked down that hospital RH from Supernatural, then landscaped it so they look like they go together. In the back of the lot, there's room for a couple of ambulances to drop off patients. Although in the mystical land of EA, gunshot victims, poisoned sims and ladies ready to pop out their worms all drive themselves to the hospital - as one does in a medical emergency. Stupid EA.

Across the street - where the original hospital was - I put Lili's modern art lot. The fountains and planters were there, but I added all the rest. That garbage from Katy Perry actually works good for "modern" art. Who knew! Inside, I got rid of her basegame art and replaced all of it with stuff I have. I have Arsil's generic desk on the ground level so I can assign a sim to be a security guard.

And finally, this is the new gym. I think this was created by someone called Plumbob - again from over on Youtube. Inside I cleared areas so I could use Twinsimmings spin stuff and Olomaya's Get Pumped mod. Where that Americana house was, I put a separate Yoga gym for Twinsimming's yoga set. Thanks to both modders for their lovely addition to the game.

And that's all I got done today. Because as I tell you guys, over and over, I'm lazy.

[snapthistiger]

exercise 03062023

bike ride to the gym

8 x 10 incline sit ups

6 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

30 minutes on the step mill

3 x 10 cable press

3 x 10 cable row

bike ride home

the gym workers received Hershey kisses

top = fountain at the park is back in service after someone ran a car into the water pump for 2 of the park fountains a few months ago

back to warm weather / low 80s and humid

pressure washed the deck

cleaning some mildew off the eaves of the house

pressure washing around the front door

grilling a pork loin this afternoon

yoga this evening

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[thatswhywelovegermany]

Great Cascades and Hercules monument in the Mountain Park Wilhelmshöhe, Kassel, Hesse

The cascades are the starting point of the water features in park Wilhelmshöhe, which run two times per week, on Wednesday and Sunday at 14:30. They were built around 1700 for Landgrave Karl and work since 1712 without any pump, just with water collected from wells of a nearby mountain. The water also drives two horns blown by Triton and Kentaur, which sound on a platform showing the head of the giant Encelados, whose body is buried by a pile of rocks. The giant angrily spits a fountain of water towards Hercules, who is standing on top of the monument as a 9 m tall copper statue. Hercules was leading the team of Greek gods that defeated the giants.

The unique place is part of the UNESCO world heritage and ranks among the top 50 German tourist destinations.

[lamortwrites]

1 (2) because I like to live dangerously

the only non bloodborne on the list! this is the galetash, an au loosely based on the mortal engines books :)

Waterdeep is a beautiful city, all polished, gleaming metal, clean and glinting in the flame orange glow of the sunset. He knows that there are fountains on her upper tiers, crystal clear water safe for drinking that makes its slow way down dripping from tier to tier, snaking through clean pipes and providing both fresh water and beauty to appease the citizens that live and work across all of her tiers. It is easy to do many things when you have so many mages at your disposal, he supposes, like keeping the beautiful exterior of your extravagant city warded against dust and soot and biting acid rain so that everyone can see how pretty and well taken care of you are, strutting around the wastelands of the continent once known as Faerûn.

As he watches her try to limp away from them, Enver wonders what she will taste like clamped between the jaws of his great city.

He feels saliva pool on his tongue, feels his lips curl back from his teeth as his hands tighten on the iron railing that lines the edge of his balcony. He can feel the roar of the engines even from all the way up here on the top tier of Baldur's Gate. He can almost hear the shouts of the foremen, feel the sharp sway caused by great metal legs pumping harder than the shock absorbers can cope with, feel the sweat dripping from his skin in streams so close to the furnaces that line the bowels of the city.

Hunts were never so exciting when he worked down there himself. When prey was plenty, when little townships and hamlets roamed about the wastes just waiting to be snatched up by a predator city, most of the time they would take one look at the great hulking scrapheap of Baldur's Gate, blackened with soot from her engines and leaking steam from the vents that split the sides of her rusting skin, and stop running. City life wasn't so bad, after all -- in those days, Baldur's Gate handed out citizenship to any who asked for it, and there were plenty who preferred the safety that came with living in a city.

But that was decades ago.

[malurged]

as the flood of light fades and you recover from the momentary blindness, you open your eyes ... to an idyllic scene. greenhouse garden with beautiful, diverse flora from all seasons and continents. sunshine spilling through the skylight. soothing sounds of water trickling down the marble fountains. in the middle, a small glass top table with golden accents. a porcelain tea set with equally refined details. by the table are two humanoid figures, a man and a woman. the woman's crimson eyes calmly scan your group. if she is at all perturbed by your unexpected arrival, you cannot read it from her perfectly sculpted face. intricate lines of pale tattoos cross her nose and chin. she sits perfectly still in her dress of red and platinum gold, like the perfect picture of a noblewoman in a portrait –– or every noblewoman in every portrait, from every epoch and every age.

“ i'm sorry, vic @victo1re. this should not have happened. ” the man stands. his presence next to her is like a smear of shadow, not as dazzling but no less striking. the silver and grey fabric of his robe ripples against his lanky form like silk or liquid mercury. “ you don't have to be here for this. -- i will take care of them. ” he turns toward you all, and you see that he is wearing a half-mask over the left side of his face. on the surface of the mask are golden threads forming a strange, geometric shape. the symbol hums with arcane energy as he raises a hand.

snap.

in that moment of urgency, you don't know what is going to happen. your instincts and trainings kick in: the wizard remembers the artifact with the strange marking -- the invert of the symbol on the man's mask. you touch it and channel your arcana. the artifact hums to life with a pulse of energy and boon. whatever the man did was neutralized, the weave twisted out of his hand to your favor and you are imbued with magic and vigor. but the paladin, you stumble to your knees –– as your divine sense is suddenly activated and holds you open to the world like a wound you hide but cannot numb.

you are overwhelmed with the vile, odious fume of the hells and distant memories of a long forgotten childhood slotting into place: this man before you, the same man you saw stalking the halls of the parliament, darkening the steps of your lords and ladies' estates as the esteem chosen of the goddess of strategy has been an infernal fiend.

you stand before the house of cards as it starts to crumble, layers of glamour and deception fade away. you realize that in this elaborate theatre of falsehood and mimicry, nothing is genuine -- not her promises, not her divinity, not her peace treaties or vaults of wealth ... not even her chosen.

you clutch to your sword. the family crest the last vestige of your fallen house. decades of power struggles, espionage and political assassinations engulfed your homeland, reducing you to this: orphaned in a barren world choked on manipulation and strife.

in anger and grief, all fade away from your heart but vengeance -- your oath to avenge your house against whoever brought their downfall, even if gods. even if a false goddess or her devilish prophet -—–— ( before any of your companions can stop you, you raise your ancestral sword with a thunderous roar, pumping all of your hatred and wraith into the strike to smite the foul creature. he whips his arm up to create an arcane shield but you get there just before it can cover him entirely. the blade of your sword makes contact with his mask, knocking it off his face and cutting into his wretched flesh. blood barely spills before your smite sears his open wound. )

“ YOU FOOLS!! ” the devil shrieks as he stumbles back, holding his injured face and letting out a strangled curse. “ how did you- ? how DARE you bring that THING into her house! ”

his visage changes, growing taller as his silken robe begins to corrode from the bottom up. flames burst out the side of his face, not from the paladin's smite but seemingly burning through from underneath his skin. his teeth become jagged and black. each time he heaves and curls his lips there seem to be more and more teeth crowding and bloodying his gums. he lets out a hiss. the scent of sulfur fills your nose as you are surrounded by a wall of fire, caging you in with him and separating you all from his goddess' avatar. the fire begins to spread out toward the plants populating the greenhouse. two bushes light on fire and are immediately engulfed; in their place, the flames writhe and grow into two fire elementals.

as the battle commences, you get one last glimpse at the chosen's face, before it is twisted into something unrecognizable. you see his eyes dart between his goddess' avatar and the artifact in the wizard's hand. in his face you read the whirlwind of emotions: anger, surprise, protectiveness, fear, and a complex set of pain.

[realityandrebirth]

Summary: Set in Coinverse, Morro rants about art therapy.

Warnings: none.

@morrotober

Morrotober: Day Thirteen

He was still ranting when Nya and Skylor arrived. Morro didn't care enough to acknowledge them. "It was so stupid!" he said, sitting on the pawn shop's counter. "Like I'm supposed to finger paint my feelings?"

Ronin rolled his eyes. "Hey, Nya," he said, leaning out from behind Morro. "What's up?"

"Not much," Nya said. "What's up with him?"

"He went to therapy," Ronin said.

"Art therapy," Morro said disdainfully. "Useless."

"Hey, hey," said Skylor, ruffling his hair. Morro shoved her hand away. "It's good you're doing any therapy at all. Didn't Borg want you to start it, like, years ago?"

Morro groaned. "Yeah, but that was supposed to be real therapy, not just messing around."

Nya laughed. "At least you got to make something, right?" she said. "What was it?"

"Yeah," said Ronin. "You've been complaining this whole time, right? I want to at least see what you drew."

Morro pushed him away. "Ugh. It's not like they had anything interesting, it's just paper and pencils."

Ronin snorted. "So what was that crap about finger painting?"

"I mean, they had it, but I'm not using my hands to paint!"

Skylor smiled. "If you're not comfortable showing it, you don't have to, but I wouldn't mind seeing it if you are."

Morro shrugged and dug in his back pocket. "Here," he said, holding out a folded piece of paper. "It's not interesting."

He hopped off the counter and unfolded the paper on it. Nya, Skylor, and Ronin gathered to look. "Huh," Nya said. "You drew towers?"

Morro nodded. He had drawn five stone towers of varying styles and fantastical elements. "They had some prompt for me, but I didn't care about it."

Skylor shook her head. "So it's not that art therapy sucked, it's that you're a tough patient."

"I'm not surprised," Nya said. "This one's cool."

She pointed to a tower with a waterfall falling from the top window. Morro nodded. "I don't know how you'd actually make something like that," he said. "I mean, sure, it's a cool looking fountain, but it'd be a lot of effort to pump that much water to the top, especially if it's flowing constantly."

"You thought about making it?"

"No? Just like, how it would be done." Morro pointed at another one. "See how big this one is? It would have to be wind-resistant, so I tried to draw it with an aerodynamic shape, or something."

"Huh," said Nya. "You know a lot about this."

Heat rose in his cheeks. "Not really," Morro said, looking away. "There's plenty of architecture I don't know."

Skylor patted his shoulder. "Is this what you're going to college for?"

Anxiety spiked through him. "I'm not going to college," Morro said sharply. "I don't care if Dad wants me to, it's my choice."

"You could be an architect," Nya said. "These are cool."

"It doesn't matter, I just drew them for fun."

"Aw, c'mon." Nya smiled at him. "Your dad is Cyrus Borg, which means not only is your college totally paid for, but every university in Ninjago will be fighting to get you. Chances like that don't happen to everyone. They sure didn't happen to me."

Morro started to talk, then stopped, and settled for a wordless grumble and snatching his paper off the table. Skylor coughed and changed the subject, but Morro tuned out the rest of the conversation until it was time to go home.