#mobile screening plants

[rtechnoindia]

Mobile Crushing and Screening Plant In India | Mobile Plants | R-Techno

Check out our latest mobile crushing and screening plants from R-Techno! 🌿🚛 Whether you're in the mining, construction, or recycling industry, our top-of-the-line equipment is designed to boost productivity and efficiency on your job site. Contact us today to learn more about how our machines can help take your operations to the next level!🏗️🌿🔝

Call now:  +91 94273 55384, +91 97256 69755

Visit: https://bit.ly/Mobilecrushingplant

[convotechengg]

Best Mobile Screening Plant Manufacturer in India

Convotech Engineering is a well-known mobile screening plant manufacturer in India. We provide flexibility, mobility, and cost-effectiveness by crushing materials on-site, reducing transportation costs. For more information, contact us today.

[jawcrushermanufacturers]

Unlocking Efficiency and Quality: The Essential Machinery for Stone Crushing Operations

In the realm of construction and infrastructure development, the quest for efficiency and quality is perpetual. Among the myriad of factors influencing project success, the machinery utilized stands as a cornerstone. In this modern age of innovation, the utilization of cutting-edge equipment not only enhances productivity but also ensures the delivery of superior results. Among the indispensable arsenal of machinery, the sand making machine, mobile stone crusher, jaw crusher, and vibrating screen emerge as pivotal players. Let’s delve into their significance and explore how they contribute to elevating construction endeavors to new heights.

Sand Making Machine: Crafting Excellence at the Best Price

The sand making machine stands as a testament to human ingenuity in transforming raw materials into refined products. Its role in construction is paramount, as it converts coarse materials into fine particles suitable for various applications, such as concrete production and road construction. Investing in a sand making machine at the best price ensures not only cost-effectiveness but also a reliable tool for consistent output. Whether it's silica sand, limestone, or granite, this machine processes materials efficiently, contributing to the seamless progress of construction projects.

Mobile Stone Crusher: Versatile Solutions from Leading Manufacturers

In an era defined by mobility and flexibility, the mobile stone crusher emerges as a game-changer in the construction landscape. Manufactured by Jaw Crusher Gold Crush, these crushers offer unparalleled convenience without compromising on performance. Their ability to navigate diverse terrains and access remote locations makes them indispensable for projects spanning urban developments to rural infrastructure. As a cornerstone of modern construction, mobile stone crushers empower contractors with the agility to meet project demands swiftly and efficiently.

Best Jaw Crusher Machine: Powering Crushing Operations with Precision

The jaw crusher machine stands as a symbol of reliability and efficiency in the realm of stone crushing. Renowned for its robust construction and formidable crushing capability, it tackles the toughest materials with ease. As the cornerstone of primary crushing operations, investing in the best jaw crusher machine ensures optimal performance and longevity. Whether it's limestone, granite, or recycled concrete, this machine crushes with precision, laying the foundation for quality construction aggregates.

Stone Crusher Machine Manufacturer: Delivering Quality and Innovation

Behind every exceptional stone crusher machine lies the expertise and craftsmanship of dedicated manufacturers. These visionary companies engineer solutions that redefine the standards of the industry. By leveraging advanced technologies and meticulous quality control measures, they produce machines that excel in performance and durability. Collaborating with a reputable stone crusher machine manufacturer guarantees access to cutting-edge innovations and unwavering support, fostering trust and confidence in every project.

Quality Stone Crusher Plant: The Nexus of Efficiency and Reliability

The cornerstone of any successful construction endeavor is a quality stone crusher plant. It serves as the nerve center, orchestrating the process of material crushing, screening, and conveying with precision. A meticulously designed plant layout optimizes workflow and minimizes downtime, ensuring seamless operations from raw material input to the delivery of finished products. Investing in a quality stone crusher plant transcends mere infrastructure it symbolizes a commitment to excellence and customer satisfaction.

Single Toggle Jaw Crusher at Best Price: Maximizing Value without Compromise

For those seeking unparalleled efficiency without breaking the bank, the single toggle jaw crusher emerges as a beacon of affordability and performance. Engineered to deliver optimal crushing force while minimizing operating costs, this machine embodies the principles of value engineering. Its simplified design and robust construction make maintenance hassle-free, ensuring uninterrupted production at the best price. Investing in a single toggle jaw crusher signifies a strategic choice, where value meets performance seamlessly.

Best Vibrating Screen Supplier: Elevating Screening Efficiency to New Heights

In the realm of material processing, the vibrating screen stands as a silent hero, sifting through tons of material with precision and efficiency. Choosing the best vibrating screen supplier ensures access to state-of-the-art equipment that meets the rigors of modern construction. From sizing aggregates to classifying minerals, these screens play a crucial role in optimizing material utilization and product quality. Collaborating with a trusted supplier guarantees not only quality equipment but also comprehensive support and service.

Conclusion

In the dynamic landscape of construction, the significance of machinery cannot be overstated. From the sand making machine that refines raw materials to the vibrating screen that sieves and sorts, each piece of equipment plays a vital role in shaping the built environment. Investing in the best machinery, whether it's a mobile stone crusher or a single toggle jaw crusher, is not merely a transaction but a strategic decision to unlock efficiency and quality. By partnering with reputable manufacturers and suppliers, construction companies can embark on a journey of innovation and excellence, shaping the future of infrastructure development.

Contact Us - Jaw Crusher Gold Crush

Call :- +91 8085309838

Email :- kvmetal76@gmail.com

Address :- 7/1 Khasra, Behind Essar Petrol Pump, Behind Aurobindo Hospital,Industrial Area Bardari, Indore (M.P.)

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[staff]

Hello, Tumblr. Tumblr here. We’re launching live streaming on Tumblr, and we’re calling it...well, Tumblr Live.

Tumblr Live brings streaming directly to the dashboard, meaning your Tumblr audience and your streaming audience can converge. What’s that, you say? Synergy? Beautiful.

Initially, we’re rolling Tumblr Live out to the US only via our Android and iOS apps. Desktop and international streaming and viewing will follow in time.

Here’s how it works:

The little 🎥 at the bottom of your dashboard in your mobile app will take you to a Tumblr Live tab, where you’ll be able to scroll through streams that are live at that time—indicated by a green dot. (Your search bar is still there! It now lives in the top right corner of your screen.)

As long as you keep it clean, you can stream anything that takes your fancy by tapping the “Go Live!” button—ducks in the park, the wonky snowman you built, your cursed cross stitch, etc.

Streaming works with both front and back cameras, so if you’re camera-shy, you can stream without showing your face. 

You can bestow bouncer status upon your most trusted and loyal viewers, which means they can help you moderate your stream for any nasties while you’re live.

You can tap on any live avatar to jump into their stream—whether you follow that blog or not.

You can send little gifts to the streamer during their stream if you’re enjoying what they’re up to.

You can collect your favorite streamers in a special tab for later.

And that’s it for now. Just imagine! Gaming live streams! Book clubs! Live fungi feed! D’n’D campaigns! Artist live draws! Shark facts! GRWMs! Cosplay and con casts! Knitting hour! Photography tutorials! Storytime! Plant parenting tips! Living room concerts! Furby workshop! Museum tours! Crabs! (just crabs!) 

It’s a whole new ball pit out there. We’re so excited to see what you come up with.

[balermachine]

Mobile Crusher Tire Mobile Combined Crushing and Screening Plant, Mobile...

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - September 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Pair of rare Amur tiger cubs debuting at Minnesota Zoo are raising hopes for the endangered species

“[The Minnesota Zoo’s] Amur tigers have produced 57 cubs, [… 21 of which] have gone on to produce litters of their own, amounting to another 86 cubs. […] “They’re showing a lot of resiliency, which is something that we work hard for in human care. We want these animals to have a lot of confidence and be able to adapt to new environments just as they’re doing today.””

2. Powered by renewable energy, microbes turn CO₂ into protein and vitamins

“The team designed a two-stage bioreactor system that produces yeast rich in protein and vitamin B9. [… The protein] levels in their yeast exceed those of beef, pork, fish, and lentils. […] Running on clean energy and CO2, the system reduces carbon emissions in food production. It uncouples land use from farming, freeing up space for conservation[… and] will help farmers concentrate on producing vegetables and crops sustainably.”

3. JCPenney Launches Apparel Collection Aimed At Wheelchair Users

“A major department store is rolling out a new line of clothing specifically tailored to meet the needs of women who use wheelchairs featuring options for both everyday wear and special occasions. [… The clothing have] modifications like zippers located for easy access, pocket positioning and extended back rises optimized for the seated position and shorter sleeves to limit interference with wheels.”

4. Snails bred in Edinburgh Zoo sent to re-populate species in French Polynesia

“Thousands of rare partula snails bred at Edinburgh Zoo are to be released in French Polynesia to restore the wild population of the species.The last surviving few of the species were rescued in the early 1990s[….] 15 species and sub-species [are being bred in zoos for repopulation], the majority of which are classed as extinct in the wild.”

5. [NH Joins 19 Other States] to Provide Essential Behavioral Health Services Through Mobile Crisis Intervention Teams

“[CMS] approved New Hampshire’s Medicaid State Plan Amendment for community-based mobile crisis intervention teams to provide services for people experiencing a mental health or substance use disorder crisis. […] The multidisciplinary team provides screening and assessment; stabilization and de-escalation; and coordination with and referrals to health, social, and other services, as needed.”

6. Recovery plan for Missouri population of eastern hellbender

“It is expected that recovery efforts for the Missouri DPS of the eastern hellbender will reduce sedimentation and improve water quality in the aforementioned watersheds, which will also improve drinking water, as well as benefit multiple federally listed mussels, sport fish and other aquatic species.”

7. How $7.3B will help rural co-ops build clean power—and close coal plants

“[The funds are] serving about 5 million households across 23 states [… to] build wind and solar power, which is now cheaper than coal-fired power across most of the country. […] Some of it will be used to pay down the cost of closing coal plants[….] federal funding could help co-ops secure enough wind, solar, and battery resources to retire their entire coal capacity by 2032, cutting carbon emissions by 80 to 90 percent and reducing wholesale electricity costs by 10 to 20 percent[….]”

8. Native-led suicide prevention program focuses on building community strengths

“[Indigenous researchers have] designed programs that aim to build up a community’s endemic strengths, rather than solely treating the risks facing individuals within that community. By providing support and resources that enable access to Alaska Native cultural activities, they hope to strengthen social bonds that build resilience. […] “In a Yup’ik worldview, suicide is not a mental health disorder, and it’s not an individual affliction, it’s a disruption of the collective.””

9. Another rare Javan rhino calf spotted at Indonesia park

“A new Javan rhino calf has been spotted in an Indonesian national park, the facility's head said Friday, further boosting hopes for one of the world's most endangered mammals after two other […] calves were spotted earlier this year at the park, which is the only habitat left for the critically endangered animal.”

10. Transparent solar cells can directly supply energy from glass surfaces

“[Researchers have] unveiled a method of supplying energy directly from glass of buildings, cars, and mobile devices through transparent solar cells. […] It has also succeeded in charging a smartphone using natural sunlight. It also proved the possibility that a screen of a small mobile device can be used as an energy source.”

September 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[merakiui]

100%

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, captivity, very vague and slight implications of codependency, angst note - your mobile phone was at 100% when he took you away. with time, the percentage has diminished. so, too, does your hope for a brighter future.

The windowpane is spattered with rain.

Sitting cozy in a cushioned alcove, you watch the droplets slide down in regal rivulets, consolidating to form single streaks. The scenery beyond the window is bleak and dreary—a despondent landscape of gnarled, leafless trees and scratchy brambles stretching towards a dark, dismal sky. Sometimes you liken the rain to tears, wondering if Mother Nature weeps for all creatures or simply for you and your situation. Rare are the days in which the sun shines upon the craggy stone façade of your captor’s castle, and she is as benevolent as she is cruel.

For all of its sumptuous splendor, generational wealth filling the interior with priceless heirlooms and relics, it is an empty, cold structure. You’ve taken to enveloping yourself in thick furs, if only because these furs do not speak like the monster who so humbly offers his embrace. Though you’ve always considered yourself of strong, sturdy mind, your restraint is thinning. As the days pass and you shed clothing sizes like they’re second skins, you find yourself drawn to warmth.

Which is, ironically enough, contradictory to your current temperament. The windows, frigid like the grave, provide solace you cannot find anywhere else—for it is only tender warmth you receive from him. Had he not been so merciful, perhaps it would have been easier to shrink away and truly loathe him with every ounce of your being.

And yet, in order to escape the warmth which enshrouds, you seek the cold, bitter windows and their rain-weary countenance.

Lying beside you on the pillows, snoozing the afternoon away, a calico cat snores idly. She was a gift from him. You were neglectful of your mental health and thus, as per his guard’s suggestion, he sought to find a cat to cure your loneliness and inspire some form of happiness. You appreciate Silver—genuinely, you do—but the good luck a calico brings is not nearly enough to rescue you from captivity.

She was a stray, a scrawny thing with a limp and one bad eye. You took to her right away, scooping her up in your arms and lovingly naming her Cotton. Similarly, she returned your affections, rubbing her head against your palm and purring pleasantly.

Now she likes to nudge the dome that is your stomach, a great, round thing at only six months. Sometimes you think she’s more motherly than you are. You’ve never been able to care for much of anything. Plants wither under your touch, recipes spoil even when you follow them to the letter, and your electronics crack.

Your phone, more fractured than your very heart, is cold in your hands. The screen is blank; it’s dying. It was at 100% before. Now it’s been reduced to a sad 7%. There is no reception or connection to be had in Briar Valley. Your phone, once so powerful and all-knowing, is but a hollow shell. Useless. A digital photo album will expire at its final hour, and there’s no charger. He offered to use his magic to charge it, but he has never known his own strength and you couldn’t risk losing the treasured memories stored within.

Sometimes you’d return to old message logs and read through them. Now you can’t do that, lest you drain the battery quicker than intended.

“So this is where you’ve retreated,” Malleus notes, poking his head around the corner of a towering bookcase. Concern settles on his features. “Are you well? Sebek tells me you were absent for breakfast.” “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, watching his reflection through the stormy glass.

Malleus glances at Cotton and then at your phone as it rests in your clasp. “May I trouble you to eat just a little, if only some fruit?”

“I’m not hungry.” He nods, stalling. “Will you join me for lunch?”

“If I must.”

A small smile lifts his lips. “Are you cold? It can’t be very comfortable to sit there for such a long time. You’ll catch your death.”

“I hope.”

He tuts in disapproval and shrugs out of his cloak, draping it over you even though you’re already wearing a fleece robe. Malleus assesses you with a fleeting once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt to layer. You must understand where I’m coming from, dearest. Extreme temperatures serve to weaken those who are already so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you snap, turning to scowl.

He doesn’t flinch at the heat smoldering in your eyes. “You’re human.”

“How many times did you have to practice that to come to terms with it?”

Malleus’s verdant stare narrows; his frown tightens. “It’s the truth.”

“I didn’t think you’d confront it.”

“I must if I’m to understand…” He exhales through his nose, deflating somewhat. “You’re in fine health. The physician tells me so. There’s no need to worry ourselves with ineffectual what-ifs.”

You turn your gaze on the sprawling forest next, unwilling to discuss the report and its subsequent conclusion: If she remains in good health and follows the recommended diet for an expecting mother, she’ll carry to term.

“My phone is dying, Malleus.”

“Is that not life? Lilia once said so.”

“My pictures… My everything is stored in this phone. It means so much to me.”

“Truly? Is there not a way to make physical copies of these photographs?”

“Unless Briar Valley has the technology to do so…”

“I’m afraid not.”

Malleus takes a daring step closer, endeavoring to comfort you. Cotton cracks her good eye open to peer at him. She hisses low in her throat, a protector standing small against something so tall. Pouting, clearly disheartened, Malleus heeds her warning and chooses to linger just within the bounds she deems acceptable.

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

You heave a dejected sigh, your shoulders drooping. Seeking to cleanse your visual palate, you power the device on. 5% blinks back at you, an insignificant number sitting in a corner that you normally wouldn’t have paid much mind to. Now it weighs heavy, a reminder that the end is encroaching.

“I would’ve liked to keep these photos forever,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Malleus hums his acknowledgement; you think he knows the feeling—or some variant of it, at least. “If I lose these pictures…”

“Do you not have memories?”

“I do, but it isn’t the same. One day I’ll grow old and my memory will be frail. I won’t remember nearly as much as I do now. Those memories will become ghosts and eventually I’ll—”

“You will not.” There’s a finality to the declaration—you won’t leave me; you won’t drain or die like this mobile device.

You rest your head against the window. The cool glass soothes your soul. I wonder what the others are up to right now… You place your hand upon your belly. I wonder if they’d have any good ideas for a name. I’m terrible at naming things. I can never pick something that feels right.

“I’d like to have a funeral for my phone.”

But maybe there is no right thing.

“Of course,” he agrees, perfectly serious. You will have that phone funeral, just as you will have every other request you make—however patently absurd it may seem. (Every other request except for freedom, of course.) “Materials may not have the same worth as a loved one, but the experiences they provide are just as valuable. Surely, no? Otherwise I would not feel so troubled when Roaring Drago…” Pausing to search for the placeholder, Malleus glances at your phone. “Perhaps there is no greater tragedy than existence itself.”

“It’s the most bittersweet burden,” you echo, scrolling through each picture with wistful remembrance. “But then I’d rather know the fleeting frivolity of life than endure hundreds of years of solitude. It makes me appreciate everything that much more.”

You stop at a picture of you and Malleus, a photo snapped by Lilia himself. Part of you often wonders why he chose you—why he adores you to such a degree when you, like everyone else, will inevitably perish. But therein lies the allure: That which is unobtainable is even more tempting. And because there is only one of you, a human destined to one day return to her home world, your very presence is more fleeting than a dream.

To Malleus, who has always dreamt, fond and fervent, of the unobtainable mundanity of normal life, you are a sweet, tangible blessing.

“Horns, do you think I’ll ever get another chance to have my phone at 100%?”

He softens under the nickname. It means more to him than his lofty station. “Would you like to know that joy?”

“It would be nice, yes, but then I’d just get sad when it reaches zero. I guess I should be grateful it’s stayed alive for this long. Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Just forget it.”

“Nonsense. There is no such thing.” He reaches to touch your cheek, but Cotton hisses again and so he refrains. She stands on unsteady legs and climbs into your lap, perching awkwardly in spite of your rounded belly. The sight draws a deep chuckle from him. “Your feline friend is quite taken with you.”

“It’s probably because I’m warm. She likes my belly a lot.”

“As do I.”

You roll your eyes.

“Your beauty is most beguiling. There’s a certain radiance to your person. It’s very charming. Do you not agree?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere—definitely not in Cotton’s good graces.”

“I’m simply voicing a fact.”

Your hand slides down from your stomach to pat Cotton. She purrs under your touch, and a weak approximation of a smile tugs at your lips. Amidst all of this sorrow, she is a glimmer of hope. In a way, she’s like you—a stray without a place in this world, snatched from the cobbles she once wandered and confined in a cage of royal opulence. Your similarities are striking, if not immensely devastating.

“Fact or not, I don’t care if I look pretty. It means nothing to me.”

“To be impartial towards appearances… Quite a noble mindset.”

I never once thought you were scary or strange, Horns. Even now.

You look at your phone once more. 3% flickers back.

You’re just lost, and in being lost you found me. But I was also lost. I never even belonged in this world to begin with…

“I’m not going to be a good mother.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“I can’t even take care of myself.”

“I shall care for you when you find yourself unable to.”

“I’d rather you not.”

With Cotton having curled on your lap, slumbering peacefully, Malleus chances to close the gap. His broad frame leans to make up for the difference in height, and he runs cold fingers along your cheek. He brushes away the tears you weren’t even aware you were shedding.

You grip your phone in shaky hands, your shoulders hunched. There’s a piercing ache in your chest, pain stabbing all the way through to your heart. It persists when you power it off, unable to delight in pictorial reminiscence for a moment longer. Silent like death, you sob; seismic dismay shudders through you in waves. Distantly, in a forgotten corner of your brain, you suspect this may be the last time you’ll ever use your phone. The last time you’ll ever look upon the photos you’ve amassed. Photos of friends, class notes, food. Photos snapped by mistake, blurry and unfocused. Photos taken when Ace and Grim stole your phone. Precious memories are preserved within the permanence of a photo album—an album that only remains everlasting so long as you keep your phone charged.

Your final shred of the world beyond Briar Valley vanishes in a blip, leaving you with the dark void that is an empty screen. Brutal is the agony, contorting your face, and you bawl like you’ve just witnessed the end of a life.

In a way, you have. You held it in the palm of your hands, and you watched it wither. Watched the percentages drop through numbers, double digits easing into singles. Watched every week and tried to spare your beloved phone of its fate. Watched and attempted to stall the impossible—a foolish undertaking. This was inevitable; you knew this, and yet you’re still mourning.

Perhaps that is the most tragic facet of existence. From the moment one is born, they are mourning. Humans mourn losing time—of allowing it to slip through their fingers when they should have put it to better use. Humans mourn aging even though it is celebrated yearly. Humans mourn for things that are inhuman—for robots stuck in an endless cycle of some menial task while gears grow rusted and systems shut down or trapped on a distant planet, never to return home. For the fruit that falls from trees and rots, trampled and forgotten. For the endings, good and bad, of novels. For art that will never see the light of day because it has been destroyed or stolen or silenced. For the friends they meet, have met, and will meet.

You mourn because you know it’s impending, and you spend all of your life coming to terms with it, only to break down when it finally happens because the truth of the matter is that you will never be prepared no matter how much you prepare yourself. You mourn because you’re a complex human with complex emotions, surviving in a complex world with millions of intricacies, and the only way to weather misery is to mourn.

To the little life cradled in your womb, who knows not of these difficulties yet, they cannot fathom the anguish that accompanies loss. And right now that is all you can hope for—a life without loss.

But that is impossible because loss is true to everyone’s experience. It is part of existence, and existence is inescapable.

Malleus does not gather you in his arms. He will do so if you ask, and he knows you want to ask, which is precisely why he waits. But you’re stubborn and you refuse to give in to the temptation, let alone grant him the satisfaction. It doesn’t offend him.

The windowpane is spattered with rain. So, too, is your phone, spotted with tears and snot.

Briefly, you wonder if you still look beautiful to Malleus.

Even at your ugliest, he would still cherish you. Desperately, as if he might lose you.

Knowing this does not soften the gutting grief.

[luvnami]

hey, suna, call me. i need you to artifact farm with me.

“what the fuck? why is your raiden built so badly?”

suna squints at your phone. he’s in utterly confused at how terrible your artifacts are. no wonder your character had been tossing pebbles at enemies and you were struggling to clear a boss fight.

“i don’t know. the stats are so confusing, rin. help me? please?” 

you don’t have to convince suna with your puppy dog eyes, because he’s already working on scrolling through your inventory and picking out decent artifacts. seriously, why do you have a level 15 goblet that is levelled entirely into flat defense? he has his head bowed over the little screen, staring at numbers that mean nothing to you. 

“next time, just ask me. you’re gonna have a hard time progressing in the story if you don’t build your character well,” suna chides.

you fake a pout. why do you need to think about silly things like that when you have a gamer boyfriend to do it for you?

“why can’t you just carry me, rin? you do that all the time in domains.”

“i can’t help you in archon quest fights.”

“mmm…”

you hum and drape yourself over his back. it’s attractive when suna’s in his own little world like this – be it on the court or on a silly mobile game, you think he’s the cutest when he’s concentrating with that crease between his brows. 

eventually, suna equips your character with a slightly better set than before. 

“thank you rin! you’re the best!” you plant your lips on his cheek, missing how red he turns as you dive back into the game. 

[tk-duveraun]

LBH is SO NORMAL About Shen Yuan

Part 1/?

1 (here), 2

Based explicitly on @sunderwight 's idea here

System dialogue modified from the 7seas translation of svsss

-

Everything hurt. Considering the last thing Luo Binghe remembered was metal and glass flying everywhere thanks to a truck t-boning his car, pain everywhere was only to be expected. Less expected was the mobile phone ringing so loud it felt like it was inside his own head. No one should have their mobile in his hospital room. Not since he was taken in by his biological father, who was the very definition of more money than sense.

He opened his eyes a crack to see if he could glare at the phone's owner until they silenced it. The ringing stopped, but his eyes were assaulted by an electric-blue floating window out of some badly CGI-d scifi movie.

He had to blink a few times before his vision was clear enough to read the words.

[Activation Code: "Who wrote this? Knock-off Chat GPT fed only a twelve year old's wet dreams?" System automatically triggered.]

The fu— Luo Binghe's eyes snapped fully open to stare at the screen. Yes, he had been reading the latest update to "Intricate Rituals with my Shixiongdi" while his driver took him to his father's house, but—

[Welcome to the System. This System operates in lie with the design concept "YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB"; we hope to provide you with the best possible experiene. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance with your wish, transform a stupid work into a magnifcent, high-quality, first-rate classic. We hope you enjoy.]

My wish? Luo Binghe went cold, then hot, adrenaline flushing through his body. I can finally wife Shen Yuan? He wanted to cry, to scream, but he was still saddled with enough pain that even the adrenaline didn't give him much energy to get up and run off his excitement.

"Ah, Shixiong is awake. Good," a voice came from his right.

Luo Binghe agonizingly turned his head away from the blue screen and saw an older teenager in neat hanfu and a starched apron standing next to him. The teen had a handbound book folded open and was holding a stick of charcoal.

"How is Shixiong feeling?"

"Hurts." Luo Binghe said. His voice was rough and his throat felt like he'd swallowed every shard of glass from his windshield. He tried wiggling his hands and feet and found the movement easy, if excruitiating.

"Mmm, to be expected given the severity of Shixiong's qi deviation." He reached out and took Luo Binghe's wrist. Having his arm moved hurt as much as moving it himself. It felt like being injected with saline to have his meridians checked or whatever the trainee healer was doing. "But Shixiong's system has stablized nicely. One of this shidi's seniors will be by to release you to Qing Jing Peak with the next…" The teen glanced at something outside of the room and finished, "half shichen."

"Thanking Shidi," Luo Binghe croaked. So it was confirmed: he had transmigrated into IRS. Had transmigrated into Shen Yuan's own peak. And as a disciple, if he was the same generation as this kid. Was he part of Shen Yuan's cohort? His heart thumped at the thought.

IRS was an excrutiating mess of will-they, won't-they between the protagonist, Shen Yuan, and his ever-increasing bevy of admirers. It was a mess with character growth and subplots dropped in favor of introducing another man in love with Shen Yuan's poise and genuine goodness. If Luo Binghe was part of Shen Yuan's cohort of disciples, he could cut through ninety percent of the garbage and save his beloved the indignities of countless 'wardrobe malfunctions' and plants with extremely dubious tentacles.

The teen — a Qian Ciao disciple — nodded politely. "Luo-Shixiong would be wise to consult with Shen-shibo before resuming normal cultivation."

A klaxon went off between Luo Binghe's ears even before the blue screen returned to his sight with a merry jingle.

[This system was sucessfully actuvated! Bound Role: Shen Yuna's demonic student, Luo Baixiao. Weapons: Amature Spiritual Cultivation, Demonic Cultivation (locked), Demonic Abilities (locked). Starting S-points: 100.]

Luo Binghe's mind raced with swear words in a rainbow of languages. He finished with an emphatic kurwa.

[You have triggered the System's execution command and have been bound to the Luo Baixiao account. As the plot progresses, various point types will gradually become available. Please ensure that no score falls below zero, or the System will automatically mete out punishment.]

What kind of shit luck. Luo Baixiao was boogie man of the entire second half of IRS, used as a punching bag by Shen Yuan's various suitors to show off. It was stupid, senseless! How was Luo Baixiao so powerful that he never died, yet so weak he was constantly defeated by the man of the week? Why did he start as Shen Yuan's student only to disappear after a few chapters only to return as a villain?

It made no sense!

Luo Binghe — Baixiao now, he supposed — bared his teeth at the empty room. Actually, that was weird. Who did that? Was that a demonic instinct from his new body? He'd have to do some intense examination and introspection when he could move his limbs without wanting to curl on the floor and whimper.

He was supposed to be Shen Yuan's worst nightmare? Well that whole plot could kindly fuck itself. Luo Binghe knew exactly how Shen Yuan's squirrely mind worked and he was going to slot himself irremovably from his shizun's life while the suitors of the week failed in attempt after courting attempt.

[Warning,] the System warned, flashing again before his eyes. [This proposed plan is incredibly dangerous and qualifies as a violation. Please do not attempt or the system will automatically mete out punishment.]

"What do you mean dangerous? Shen Yuan would never hurt one of his disciples, let alone one that made his life easier," Luo Binghe asked inside his mind.

[Currently, you are at the beginner level, and the OOC feature is frozen. You must complete a beginner-level quest to unfreeze it. Before unfreezing, any act in violation of the original Luo Baixiao character settings will result in a deduction of a fixed number of S-Points.]

"You must be joking," Luo Binghe deadpanned. "Disciple Luo appeared in three chapters. I managed the wiki. He didn't have a characterization at this point."

[This System utilizes all resources in defining characters.] Okay, that meant nothing. So it was going to pull characterization out of its ass and hold him to it? [To aid user, multiple reply options will be given during critical dialogue. User may complete side-quests to unlock Luo Baixiao character motivations. For now, review the complementary character sheet.]

Luo Binghe wasn't really much of a gamer, but the character sheet displayed by the System was pretty basic. Strength, endurance, charisma… It also listed the same 'weapons' the System initially told him about. Near the bottom right it said simply: Internally cold and resentful, externally polite and aloof. Thanks, System.

[User is welcome (✿◡‿◡)]

He was going to have another qi deviation.

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐋. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “More…?” he whispers quietly, clinging to you desperately, and you look down at him with a raised eyebrow while your lips quirk up into a smile.

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: hazbin hotel | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lucifer morningstar/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 2.57k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem reader, dom reader, dom fem reader, sub lucifer, bottom lucifer, manipulative reader ( i have awoken an obsession in writing them i’m afraid ), reader is longtime friends with alastor, mentions of alastor, reader is ‘the seamstress’ overlord, lucifer crawls across the floor like once? maybe twice, oral ( fem receiving ), begging, brief master kink, whining, some degradation, praise kink, lucifer is 100% being a Good Boy, leg humping, self-inflicted overstimulation, and he WHIMPERS, crying, lucifer’s just a needy lil guy tbh.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: i have fallen into a rabbit hole </3 | 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃!— @mrskreideprinz. @p-ersus. @herohibiscus. @vampcubus.

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Breathy whines and whimpers echo through the dimly lit room, the flickering flame of candles catching on the deep red wine in the glass you’re holding with your non-dominant hand. The other is currently being lavished with needy, borderline worshipful kisses, your wrist tightly gripped by the man you’d had wrapped around your pinkie finger for the last five or so years. After being abandoned by his beloved wife and his sweet little daughter, he had been a mess — a mess a long-standing overlord like yourself had been quick to clean up and turn into something else, something more. Playing the concerned friend with ‘hidden feelings’ had been more than easy ( whether or not those falsified feelings had festered into something real was for you to know, and for you to know only ), and you’d had him eating out of your hand faster than even you had expected. After only two years he’d removed Lilith’s ring, and a month after that he’d begged for yours, which of course you’d accepted. You’d helped run the kingdom in his name ever since while he lavished you with attention and tended to his silly little hobbies. Your empire had expanded from a simple series of shops in every Ring that clothed the upper class to a behind-the-scenes Queen of the nation; typically you’d have celebrated with your oldest friend, but he’d disappeared after a tie-up with the Media Demon, and you’d not heard from or of him since. Briefly you’d worried he’d succumbed to his injuries, but then waved them away; little could injure Alastor, and no mobilized television screen would be able to kill him. Once he needed your services as his only tailor again he’d return, and you could demand and receive answers from him then. Until that time, your time was split between all of Hell, the whims of Rosie, and of course the dim-witted desperate King you called your own. 

Alastor would be proud, if not envious, of the web you’d weaved across Pride, if you did say so yourself. 

With one leg you push Lucifer away, planting the ball of one of your feet against his bare chest and making him fall back onto his calves, kneeling before you just as he belonged. He whines at the loss of skin contact when you withdraw your foot, but you ignore him, pondering; honestly he’d been far too easy to shape, so much so that it was almost disappointing at first, but his resolve and desperation to please had been more than entertaining. Every moment he kept by your side made your power grow, and considering the abandonment issues that ran rampant like poison beneath his skin, eating away at his brain and filling him with anxiety, that meant you were never alone for more than a few hours. If you weren’t steadily growing stronger, you’d have questioned if the clinginess were at all worth it. 

“Please — Please, let me… Please…” The soft whimpers from the floor in front of you catch your attention instantly, and you gaze down at the mess of a man before you. His hair — typically so well-managed — hangs messily over his eyes, and his wings flare out behind him, the massive feathered limbs twitching every now and then as he holds himself back from touching you without permission; the kissing had been reward enough for the necklace he’d surprised you with at breakfast, even if he wanted more. To get more, he had to earn it. 

“Do you know any words other than ‘please’?” you ask, amused by the sight of the puddle of an angel before you as well as his vastly shrunken vocabulary. He’s on his knees before you, eyes wanting and voice thick as he begs, and it does nothing but feed the raging warmth in your lower abdomen. In control though you may be, the King of Hell would get what he wanted before the night was through; after all, how could you deny someone who was being such a good boy?

“I know whatever words you want me to say,” he promises in a whine, “What do you want me to say? To ask? I’ll do it, I promise.” You know he will; when has he ever not done what you ask? Never. 

“You’ll be good?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you sip your wine, and he whimpers and nods, hands fisting and unfisting around nothing as he continues fighting the urges to grip at you like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. You fight off the urge to laugh; he was just so pathetic, you couldn’t help but feel fond of him. There was just something about sorry men on their knees that did it for you every time, and the King of Hell was no exception.

“S-So good,” he moans shakily, his pupils dilating as you crook a finger in his direction as the smallest invitation. He crawls on all fours closer to you before leaning his head against the warm skin of the inside of your thigh, nuzzling against you before hiding his eyes against it. “I will, I — I…” Fuck, he couldn’t even think — exactly how you liked him. His breathing is picking up, getting heavier than before — he’s getting all worked up, and you haven’t even properly touched him yet. 

You cross your legs tightly, displacing him, and a questioning noise falls from his lips. “Mmm… Ask me for permission,” you purr, and you watch his pupils slowly dilate and his eyes fill with a fresh surge of want. 

“F-Fuck, okay — C-Can I? Please, can I?” he asks, a pleading tone in his voice that has you clenching around nothing. 

“Can you what?” you ask, turning to study your fingernails lazily after taking your last drink of wine, putting the glass on the table next to where you were sitting. He lets out a noise of complaint, demanding your attention be put back on him, and you acquiesce easily; you could certainly give in to one or two of his requests, wordless or otherwise, considering he’d be begging to bury himself in your cunt before the night was out. 

He trembles, barely holding himself back from descending upon you like a starved man would a meal. “Can I touch you? I want to taste you, wanna make you feel good, please—“

You narrow your eyes and fight off the smile making the corners of your lips twitch; you can’t smile yet, it would ruin all the fun. “Who are you asking, Lucifer?” 

“Fuck. Fuck. Master, I’m-!” he whimpers, and you raise an eyebrow in silence, watching as he bites down hard on his bottom lip before asking, “Please, Master, can I lick your pussy?”

Your heartbeat quickens. “Hmmm…” you squint slowly at him, as if pondering the thought for the sole sake of teasing him, and he plants a gentle kiss on the inside of your knee before looking up at you, asking silently for the permission he felt he needed. 

“Please?” he begs again, and you smile finally, watching the way his ruby eyes light up with barely-contained excitement. 

“It’s alright with me,” you purr softly, uncrossing and spreading your legs for him. He lunges forward, curling his forearms under the backs of your thighs and burying his face in your cunt immediately. He’s sloppy as he eats you out, drooling from the taste and excitement, and you sigh happily as you relax into the couch cushions. The man was ever-so-talented with his tongue, you’d discovered years ago, and his favorite hobby was to lie between your legs as often and long as you would let him — and oh, would you let him. All he wanted to do was please you, to ensure your comfort and make sure you never wanted to leave him, and a while your pity for him turned into a soft fondness that urged you to acquiesce to some of his more romanticized fancies, which was why the two of you had had a lovely dinner tonight before you’d led him by his red tie to your shared bedroom. 

“Fuck,” you groan, letting your head fall back at the same time as you close your eyes and bury your free hand in his feather-soft hair, drawing him deeper into your core and coaxing a moan from him at the sensation of his hair being pulled a little. “That’s it, sweet boy — more tongue, just a little more… What a good boy you are…” 

Your hips roll up into his learned tongue at the same time that you catch your own bottom lip between your teeth and grab at one of your breasts lazily, kneading it in time with each swirl of his tongue against you. A shaky string of words into your cunt that you faintly recognize as whiny pleas for you to love him and stay with him forever only stimulate you more, the vibrations making your hips jump up. A small bump against your leg goes ignored the first time, as well as the second, but the third catches your attention and you open your eyes and look down to see him grinding against your leg like a dog. Bullying him crosses your mind, and you are nothing but a slave to your own whims in the bedroom, so you do. 

“What a pathetic fucking man!” you laugh, startling him out of his focus on your cunt and cumming against your leg, and he blinks up at you with wide eyes. He never stops lapping at your cunt, and you scoff meanly. “Humping my leg like some mutt, how unfitting of a king. You’re so desperate to get off that you can’t even wait for the opportunity to use my cunt like a real man — but at least you’re good with your tongue, aren’t you?”

Lucifer whines out a moan into you as he nods an affirmative, and you laugh again, this time more breathily. “You like that, don’t you?” you ask mockingly, tugging at his messy hair just enough for it to sting a little. He whimpers into your core, looking up at you through tear-filled eyes. “The mockery, the harsh words, me being mean — and the praise. Can’t make up your mind on what you want more can you?” A shrill whine is your only response as he nips at your swollen clit, and your hips buck up into his face as you moan, “Mmm, you just want to get cunt-drunk, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh!” he agrees, thrusting hard against you and lapping up every drop of slick you had to offer him. He was talented when it came to slipping back and forth between focusing on smothering your clit with attention and dipping his tongue into your wanting hole, and it took all your inner strength not to lose face and wrap your thighs around his head. 

“Please,” he says, voice slurred with desire, “Please, more — Love more, let me have more, I want more-!”

“More?” you ask mockingly, clenching around nothing as his long tongue circles your clit, and he moans into you desperately enough that the vibrations nearly force a whimper of your own from you lips.  “G-Go ahead and ride my leg,” you say shakily, grinning down at him patronizingly as he immediately starts grinding down on you hard. “And cum whenever you want — after all, you’re just my dumb little pussy-whipped pretty boy~”

He lets out a shrill cry, thrusting against your leg hard as he bites and sucks at your cunt and cums all over your calf, moaning and crying with tears running down his face. Shrill cries fall from your lips as you stop bothering to hold them back; he was already getting sloppy in the ways you liked him best, him hearing you call out for him would only further your shared desire. 

“What do we say?” you ask, keening as he sucks at you greedily, and he lets out a stilted cry of his own. 

“Thank you!” he gasps, continuing to roll his cock against you and hiccuping through tears at the overstimulation he’s forcing upon himself as smaller spurts of cum rush from his cock and coat your skin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you..!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, moving your hand from his hair to gently caress his face, and he lets out a shaky sob as he nuzzles into your hand. You lay your head back, content to doze as he comes down from his own particular high while clinging to you. 

“Love you,” he whispers quietly, and you hum softly back at him in response, wordlessly sharing the feeling. “So much. So, so much, more than anyone…” You let him babble mindlessly, knowing how fond he was of doing so, and listen in silence while watching him with a deep fondness sparkling in your eyes. After about a half hour or so he slows his chatter to a stop, beginning to play with your fingers and nibble at his lips, clearly wanting something. 

“What is it, Lucifer?” you ask lazily, petting his head gently, and he lets out wordless whine that makes you raise an eyebrow. “Well?”

He’s quiet for a moment, for some reason unsure of himself, before he finally voices his desire. “More…?” he whispers quietly, clinging to you desperately, and you look down at him smugly while your lips quirk up into a smile. 

“More?” you ask mockingly, then scoff and cross your legs, cutting him off from what he desired most, a surprised unintentional chirp falling from his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know if you deserve it…” And so begin the waterworks.

Lucifer bursts into tears, overstimulated and wanting and needy, all while being denied of the only thing he wants. He was a man lost in a vast desert and you were the small spring he stumbled upon after days — after tasting you the first time all those years ago, once in a night was never enough. You’re just being mean to bully him like you always do now, and he knows it. 

Your cum glistens on his lips and chin, and his tongue darts out to lick it up without thinking, sending a surge of heat rushing through your core. “But — But I was good!” he argues shakily through his tears, “Please, I just want — want to make you feel good, ‘nd I wanna feel good too…”

You gaze down at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and biting down on it harshly to ground yourself; God, he’s fucking cute. So needy and desperate, his face coated in your cum… 

You smile and spread your legs again, fighting off the urge to laugh at the way his feathers fluff up and he starts trembling in excitement. He’s always been an insatiable little thing, and you should have known better than to start to doze off after he’d achieved just his first orgasm — besides, you can handle him! This was your King after all, and you know him like you know your own mind. What’s a half dozen or more orgasms before the night is out? You could always sleep past noon if you really wanted, and it wasn’t as if he’d be leaving you anytime soon. 

“Then go ahead, Your Majesty,” you purr softly, watching the way his pupils nearly swallow up his irises entirely at the rumble in your voice. “I’m all yours.”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[rtechnoindia]

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[feverdreamjohnny]

The Epitaph of Anything Goes

I decided that this morning I would talk about The Museum of Anything Goes and the subject of lost media.

For the uninitiated, The Museum of Anything Goes is an obscure "game" released in 1995 by Wayzata Technologies, a company that is so far under the radar that I was unable to find any useful information about it outside of TMoAG.

All I could uncover is that they published a few multimedia projects (which are essentially lost now) alongside some asset discs (clipart, SFX, etc.). That's it.

The brains behind Wayzata are even more difficult to locate these days: there are only two main names credited inside of TMoAG - Michael Markowski and Maxwell S. Robertson.

The game alleges that Michael and Maxwell are well known in the art world, but any additional information about the duo is scarce beyond the confines of the museum. Attempting to search for either name online turns up plenty of rabbit holes - but none of them have anything to do with the Michael and Maxwell responsible for TMoAG.

This is particularly fascinating because it essentially means that TMoAG is the only accessible record of their lives. Before we dig any deeper into that statement, let me step back and actually address what this game is.

The Museum of Anything Goes is, by definition, a virtual art museum. Functionally it's a prerendered point-and-click adventure game where you can explore a bunch of multimedia exhibits that give the surface-level impression of a children's edutainment game, but once you start exploring further it reveals a side that firmly plants the game's feet into a haze of substance abuse and surreal humor.

Many exhibits are essentially just toying around with the astonishing new powers of CD-ROM. Everything has to make noise. Everything has to spin and flitter around. There's an air of genuine excitement for the medium, and I can't help but find it extremely charming.

The game also functions as a scrapbook, filled to the brim with photos of random trips to the zoo and snow-mobile rides with friends. At one point we even get insight into something as specific as Michael's one-year job as a tutor at a Chicago middle school, where he talks about how it opened his eyes to how poorly funded and mismanaged the school system is.

It's simultaneously quaint and chilling to see so much personal history packed into a world doomed to obscurity. As I explore the deeper parts of the museum, I contemplate if the creators are still alive today. It's a bit morbid, but imagine that - you create a single obscure game with your friend and it's all the world can see. TMoAG is currently the only surviving piece that gives any insight into who these two men were.

While many exhibits are lighthearted or nonsensical, there are occasional moments where the game dips into the eerie.

One exhibit has the player kill a man by dropping him from the sky, and after burying him you open the coffin to a video of a rotting pig carcass being put into an incinerator.

Other exhibits just feature simple 3D renders shifting around a dark screen while haunting groans play in the background.

While I would never refer to the game as "scary," its darker moments combined with the occasional mature subject matter definitely begs the question: Who is this game for?

You have to remember that this game came out long before the concept of "alt-games" had become codified in the digital space. Sure, unconventional digital art had been around before the advent of 256 colors, but TMoAG was being sold on disk as a game! It came out 2 years after DOOM hit shelves!

The trend of using the PC for entertainment was certainly on the upswing around that time, but It's not like TMoAG had a massive audience to find a niche in. With its mature themes it certainly wasn't suited for the kids market either, so who was it for?

At the end of the day, it's a moot question. We already know the target audience for The Museum of Anything Goes: Nobody. It doesn't have an audience because by its nature, TMoAG wasn't being made FOR someone, it was being made BY someone. It's a raw, unfiltered form of personal expression.

I think games like these are pivotal, because they question why people assume a game has to exist for the sake of being a consumable product. TMoAG certainly has the shape of a product: it features an intro cutscene, it has a tutorial, it features intuitive UX, it even has a map! These are all features that are solely integrated to provide comfort to an end-user. But once you actually wander around the museum for a bit, you realize how bizarrely its packaging fits its contents.

I think TMoAG is criminally underrated. It's not because its core content contains some earth-shaking truth, it's because the game defied all odds and cheated death.

How many thousands of other personal projects were deemed a little "too exotic" to be archived? How much history was lost these past 40 years as the digital space evolved and ate its old skin?

God knows how many other TMoAGs we'll never learn about because they weren't lucky enough to be preserved.

The Museum of Anything Goes isn't just some nonsensical art piece, it's a grave marker for so much lost media. Its existence is a reminder that some people's lives were fossilized, then macerated into nothing because a construction company built a skyscraper over them. The only evidence we have of those other games existing is this little fossil that somehow slipped out from under the skyscraper unscathed.

Even though so much has been lost, TMoAG survives as an epitaph.

[brn-t]

Thermotropism

TAGS:

eyy where my plant fuckers at? 👀🌱🌿 you can read it on AO3 here

I don’t think I should have taken this plant home…

Like, when I saw it baking in the sun in that alley outside my building, it’d looked like it had a lot of potential! It was all shriveled but the leaves branched out from a thick basal stem like a monstera almost and there were these bright red blotches on its roots that looked super cool!

When I brought it in (heavy!!) I could tell just by looking how root bound it was, so I popped it out of it’s cheap decorative planter (poor thing was probably never repotted) and yup, there were more roots than dirt.

I had no idea what the hell it was. Inatural had no frickin clue. It looked like a tropical plant with it’s broad green leaves and knobbly aerial roots, but the ground roots were so thick they looked like tubers!! 

I have to admit I was fascinated, but I should have gotten rid of it then…

It spent uh, a couple weeks underneath my shitty little plant light, the one in my room. I was quarantining it in there until I knew it didn’t have any critters on it, but it seemed happy with its repotting and daily soakings for the most part.

The thing really liked water

Like, I started off watering it once a week, and it did perk up, but it didn’t really change much until I started dousing it every morning before work.

And man when it started goin off, it really went off.

It seemed like every time I came home it had sent out a new aerial root or new leaf! The thing was voluptuous as hell! When it got too big for my pathetic little plant light I moved it to the window sill next to my bed. 

It was kinda nice! Like a natural blind or something once it got its runners going up the screen.

I didn’t mind, it was always hot as hell in my little apartment and my landlord couldn’t be arsed to install an AC. I just had to be careful not to accidentally crawl over the little shoots it was sending out all over when I got into bed.

I guess where I fucked up is when I found out about.. its uh.. nutrient preferences

I swear it was a complete accident the first time!! 

I had just gotten home from another 10 hr day and I was tired and smelly and needed to jerk off pronto. I hosed myself down and threw myself into bed, still steaming from trying to scrub off the smell of fried food from my skin, and cracked open my laptop.

Now, fun fact, there's this thing that plants do where they move towards things. Most of the time its towards light, but they can also be attracted to heat! It’s called thermotropism. So I dunno if it was the heat from my ancient laptop or the steam off my skin, but just as I'm about to nut I feel something brush against the head of my dick.

It took me so much by surprise that I came right there, frickin coating a leaf in my jizz. The thing had turned completely around from facing the window above my bed to nearly touching me with its broad soft leaf.

Even for a tropical plant that’s shockingly mobile.

So I cleaned it off as best I could but I guess some of my spunk got absorbed into the soil, I dunno, I passed out shortly after that. I didn’t wake up until nearly nine o clock the next morning because the room was still completely dark thanks to the density of the wall of leaves covering my window. The plant had frickin doubled in size and the terracotta pot I had repotted it in had some fresh cracks in it where the aerial roots were exploding out through.

I didn’t have time to freak out about it since I was once again late to work, but I gotta admit, I was digging the jumanjI vibes it brought to my otherwise very dull room 

So.. I may have started jerking off into it every night?

What! It’s like, natural fertilizer, or whatever!! And the plant seemed to like it? 

I even got it to flower!! It started putting out these crazy flower stalks that closed up during the day but unfurled at night giving off this crazy floral fragrant scent.

It made me remember being a kid and running around in the woods behind my stepdads rental cabin, so I let it keep spreading.

I realize now, this was not the smartest idea, but fuck it, my landlord all but explicitly told me I wasn’t getting the deposit back unless I sued him for it so when it started putting its roots into the drywall, I let it.

It was nice honestly, coming home after seeing nothing but concrete grey for hours and then throwing myself into my little tropical nest. And the smell of the flowers really set the mood when I was jerkin it.

Embarrassingly I think my mind started associating the smell with orgasm because I swear I walked past a florist shop the other day and had to walk bowlegged to the 7D train.

The trouble really started when it started sending its roots in my direction .

Now, I ain’t proud of it, but I more often than not just sleep on a bare mattress. Its got one of those memory foam layers on top and I just couldn’t be bothered to put a fitted sheet on it half the time.

So when I started feeling a bump underneath me as I lay in bed, I just thought it was like, a sock  or something that had gotten shoved underneath there, nbd, until that night… 

I was feeling particularly pent up and kept grinding my ass against that spot on the mattress. I don’t know why I did it, I just wanted more friction and the blooms on the ceiling above me were gettin me wound up with their heavy fragrance. Anyway, it feels like there's a soft tear below me and suddenly something hard and Wide and cold is pressing right against my gooch.

I kinda jump (because it’s cold!!) and look down to find that the frickin plant has grown into the mattress !!

And it was a fat root too, no idea how I didn’t notice it more earlier.

It was kindof freaky to be honest how fast it had grown, the thing really must have liked my semen, but at that point with how humid the room was and how dizzy the flowers were making me feel… I went with it.

 I ground my ass into it and when the thick ridge popped in past my ring I swear I came harder than I ever have in my life dude

I felt like I blacked out a little at the end there because the next thing I knew, it was morning and I'm absolutely painted in my own cum. I guess at this point I should have realized what was going on but I think the pollen those flowers were putting out were scrambling my brains a little. When I woke up, there was a network of thin bright red roots crisscrossing my body, sending out these feathery little things, absorbing the frankly ludicrous amounts of cum I had shot out last night. They pulled at my skin a little as I tore them off but part of me was still a little horny. So I cleared them away and and pulled out my phone.

Fuck it, right? It was my day off and I had no responsibilities that day anyway.

I just rolled over and started going to town on my morning wood.

My ass twitched around something and that's when I noticed...

The fuckin root was still in my ass from last night!!!

I'm trying to use one hand to milk my dick while the other one shoots down in between my legs and sure enough, that fuckin root had buried itself who knows how deep! I tried in vain to pull the thing out, but it was rooted in the mattress after all and didn’t budge. So, humiliatingly, I had to pull myself off of it.

I have to admit, I came a little just from feeling how much of it was inside of me, there was a good 7 inches of thick knobby root dragged out of me, grinding against my prostate as I pulled myself off of it.

I just lay there breathless, staring at the root, sticking straight up out out of my mattress now that it was no longer buried in my ass. My inner walls twitched and contracted, trying to close around the space it had carved out in me.

I guess I still had some sense then because I did actually prune the plant after that

I pulled the root out of my ruined mattress and trimmed all the stalks and roots near my bed. I started jerking off in the bathroom and yea the leaves wilted a bit but that was too much for me, you know?

Well, I don’t know if plants can get pissed but I must have pissed this one off because it responded to me suddenly not “fertilizing” it by sending out these little sticky climbers that got everywhere.

I woke up one morning to the fuckers wrapped around my tiny nipples. I went to sit up and yelped because they got yanked by the fuckin things, pulling my chest to the side. I tried to pull it off as delicately as I could, but the thin stems snapped in half, bleeding a reddish sort of liquid all over my chest!

It sort of burned but I just yelled at the plant, wiped it off and got dressed for work.

Now, I don’t know if I was allergic or something, but for the rest of that day my nipples stayed hard and puffy, poking out visibly from underneath my thin uniform shirt and earning more than a few snickers from the girls up front.

Good thing I had a vacation week coming up.

It had been asked for months in advance, and was the first one I’d had in a decade. I was supposed to drive out to the lake across the state to hang with a buddy of mine at his parents bougie lake house. Well, that night was the night before I was due to head out, and I went to bed in my travel clothes so I could just pop out of bed in the morning. Not wanting to ruin my clothes, I watered the Plant like usual and saved the jerking for when I got to my buddies place.

I was just on the edge of unconsciousness when I felt something moving up my shirt sleeve. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming it or not so I just laid there, feeling the thing slowly snake its way up to my chest, resting on the sensitive swollen bud there 

I only really tried to react when I felt a second tendril branch out from the first and start oozing that same irritating sap over my OTHER nipple!

Groggily I straightened up, falling for the same headphones on the doorknob trap as last time, but this time it felt a lot better.

My nips hadn't really gone down since that last time so when they got yanked I thought a yelp of pain was what was gonna come out of my mouth, so imagine my surprise when a full bodied moan slipped out instead.

I immediately got super red in the face and yanked off my shirt.

This, unfortunately, snapped the thin tendrils stem, causing it to bleed more of its spicy sap all along my side and chest as I shucked off my shirt.

It left an angry red trail of raised sensitive skin, swelling my nipples far beyond what was normal, and they stuck out of my chest like two puffy toilet plungers out from my swelling pecs.

I tried to pull the tendrils off of them but they were too tight and my nipples were too big now.

I looked up from groping my chest to see how many of the plant’s flowers had opened up above me, showering me in who knows what.

I couldn’t take it anymore, I was openmouth panting, inhaling the perfume and palming my shorts which had at some point started to fill out. I ripped my shorts off too, and only after a few strokes realized how deeply I had just fucked up

If you guessed “that idiot just smeared a sap he’s clearly allergic to all over the most sensitive part of his body” you would be correct...

I was howling in pain as it started to burn, but after a minute or two I was thrusting into the air and moaning like a whore, the fire had turned into an electric storm of pleasure.

My dick was swelling way past normal hardness and I could only continue to try and fuck the hell out of my hand.

It was entirely too humid in that room, everything felt wet and sticky, so when I came finally, I barely even felt it on me

I screamed so loud the neighbors probably thought I was dying I probably did die a little... I think I shot into my own mouth at one point??  I collapsed immediately after, and when I woke in the morning, the whole plant looked shiny and glossy, like it was gloating over the fact it’d gotten me to come for it yet again.

I know it was just a plant but I got mad

I jumped out of bed, completely ignoring the tendrils still wrapped around my nips, put a thick jacket over my shirt and left the room with my suitcase while flipping it the bird.

I felt bad that I would be gone for a week but I’d set it up with a slow release watering pitcher, so I figured it’d be fine without me.

What I didn’t plan on was how I would do without it.

What should have been a great vacation turned into the worst case of blueballs seen this side of the Mississippi.

Not only did my nipples constantly pulse and throb against the tendrils, but I found out later when I went to go use the bathroom that one had slipped around the base of my dick as well, which had also refused to recede back to its normal size. The woody chord was a bit thicker and it wrapped around the base and balls, completely blocking any and all attempts to even get hard.

So instead of focusing on the boat ride or my friends stupid alcohol choices, I was stuck in a constant struggle of being aroused by my throbbing nipples and being unable to address it at all. I was actually filled with relief when the final day came and I was saying goodbye to my hosts.

I flew home after that in my tiny little beater car, shifting uncomfortably at my seatbelt rubbing directly against my chest. I practically kicked the door in, shedding all my clothes in a line to my bedroom and threw myself into bed.

I yelped when I landed on several thick somethings beneath my body creak under my weight, poking me through the thin layer of foam.

The Plant was the worst I’d seen it since I brought it home, with several dead leaves deposited on the bed and an explosion of fuzzy white runners running the length of that bedroom wall.

The roots jabbed into me like it had planned this.

“Ow!” I’d said, “ I'm sorry ok? I just needed a break!”

As a response, I watched a giant cream white flower slowly expand and burst open, sending a shower of shimmery yellow pollen floating down directly over my face.

Things uh, got a little out of hand after that…

The tendrils had finally loosened enough around my dick to where I could pull them off but that just led to all my pent up semen literally dumping into my balls as soon as the tie was removed. I moaned as I could physically feel them growing heavier as a weeks worth of pent up jizz dropped into my balls. They felt like leaden weights.

It was almost painful how quickly I got hard, and it didn’t take more than a stroke or two before I was yelling and releasing said load all over myself and the plant.

You could visibly see it perk up, opening up more buds, showering me with pollen and dusting the bed. The two substances got mixed by my frantic motions and soon I was lightly cheeto dusted with the stuff,

My skin was on fire but it also.. uh, felt really good somehow... So once the high of the first orgasm died down, it wasn't long before I was rarin to go for a second round.

I palmed my recovering erection and was just about fully hard when I felt it.

Again, at my ass!! Was one of the plant’s thick basal roots!! Except this one looked a little weird..

First off it was tremendously thick, about the width of my wrist, and secondly it was covered in all these little backwards facing ridges, like a drywall sink

Man, I don’t know what wires go crossed but between the way my ass was twitching and the pollen I was huffing, I put my ass right against that thing

It must have reacted to my bodyheat because it felt like as I was pressing down on it, the thing was pushing into me as well.

It was intense, there was no give to its turgid walls, so I had to stretch myself out around it to get it past my ring.

Once it was properly seated inside me I started going to town on my dick, which at this point was leaking like my kitchen sink maintenance had refused to address for weeks.

I swear I could feel the root get deeper and deeper inside me as I jerked and spasmed around it I was panting and moaning like a bitch, I can’t believe how horny I was

at some point I felt something at my mouth and wouldn’t you know it, an equally thick tuber had been drawn to my hot breath and was poking at the corner of my lips

I was way past the point of rational thoughts at that point, I just leaned forward and let it creep into my mouth.

The further it got the hotter I felt. My tongue swiped across the underside and that’s when I tasted something sweet

Was this root leaking sap??

Turns out the itchy nectar tasted amazing so I ended up suckling it as I frantically jerked my dick. The root inside my ass had reached my prostate at that point and thats when things got really hazy for me.

I remember exploding all over myself, I would have been screaming if not for the thick root tunneling its way down my throat

I was jerking and spasming to the best of my ability but the roots were getting a little out of control, they were budding from the base of the main roots and expanding all over my body, and every couple of inches they would plant a sticky little node like a command strip onto my skin and keep going, until I could barely move.

The only part that hadn’t been covered was my right arm, which was moving too fast jerking myself off for the tendrils to colonize.

The root in my mouth seemed to expand further, and suddenly I realized that I could still breath despite it feeling like it had reached my guts almost.

My tongue felt a small hole on the underside and sure enough, I could breath just fine.

Good thing too because that’s when I noticed the two thinner roots making their way up my nose, expanding into my nostrils and plugging them completely.

The root in my ass must have had the same idea...

At this point I was slowly starting to realize, like, “oh shit, I really can’t move” and started trying to pull things off of me to escape bu t I honestly couldn’t budge. My left arm was completely rooted to the mattress and my right arm couldn’t be lifted above my waist, just enough to reach my dick but not enough to reach my face.

Leaves were starting to branch out from the tendrils, and with them came more flowers.

They were visibly crawling all over me now, moving fast enough for me to track with my eyes, and I watched in horror as several thin tendrils spiraled up my cock.

I wish I could have broken away but I was quite literally rooted to the spot watching these tendrils poke at my leaking pisshole and worm their way inside.

I screamed and cried but the progress was unceasing, it steadily tunneled into my dick until it hit the base and pinched my prostate against the root in my ass, which at this point must have reached high up into my guts.

I screamed against the root as I came, but no semen escaped my completely plugged dick.

I could feel it making its way inside my through my internal passages, rooting itself straight into my balls, 

At that point I really did pass out, whether from lack of oxygen or overstimulation I couldn’t tell.

Well, I'm awake now and I am utterly fucked, the roots have expanded into nearly every available orifice, even trying to fill out my belly button and uh.. they might have broken through the skin...

I can see ridges beneath my skin.. little hard lines were they’ve penetrated me.

I'm being constantly milked and I can’t even move as they constantly grind against the inside of my cock

I'm not even thirsty or anything, the liquid being drip-fed down my throat fills me up and I'm just kept in a constant state of bliss.

I dunno what to do bro, I have my phone but even texting is getting hard with one hand and roots slowly crawling down my fingers…

you’re the only one close enough to me, theres a key underneath the mat..

you gotta help me man before it's too la

[indigovigilance]

Aziraphale knew that Crowley was living in his car

Yes, yes, I know that the Notorious NRG said something contradictory - but this is on the screen. This is canon.

Additionally:

Aziraphale asks no questions when Crowley shoves a box of plants into his arms (ref: meta by @books-and-omens):

and Aziraphale lets him do it, helps him move back into his car, without confronting or questioning, because he knows Crowley's motivations (ref: response meta by @forineffablereasons). OP also observes that Crowley might be telling Aziraphale to go faster not just for breaking-the-speed-limit-is-a-demonic-imperative reasons, and not just because he wants his angel back, but because he wants his car back; without it, he's stranded at the bookshop, a sitting duck.

Which isn't really true, because we know that demons and angels can take any form? But psychologically speaking, not so for Crowley. The car is the physical manifestation of (and coping mechanism for) his generalized anxiety disorder.

And Aziraphale knows this. He respects Crowley's need to have mobility and distance. He knows that this instability [ironically] brings Crowley a sense of control that he needs to feel safe.

This is just one theory that isn't necessarily mutually exclusive with any others, for example, Crowley won't move in because then it would be obvious to Heaven and Hell that they're a group of the two of them, or that he doesn't move in because that would compromise the bookshop's protected status as an independent embassy. This is just one piece of the puzzle that is Crowley.

~~~

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