#gum inc.

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Horrors of War bubble gum trading cards - Gum Inc. (1938)

[fitsofgloom]

I Wish I May, I Wish I Might!

[chaptertwo-thepacnw]

scratch and sniff |2024|

[felix-walter]

From "Realization" (2023)

[wwwquickpakinccom]

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2025 is the start of a New Year and a great time to make a change to water activated paper tape.  Call us at 813 242 6995 or reach out to sales@quickpakinc.com

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

and roses, too

Long hair is a luxury on Chemos. Everyone’s got a story—everyone has an uncle, or a daughter, or a friend. It gets caught in gears, twisted into spinners, stuck to pressed. Every great machine in the factories springing up all over Chemos these days seems to have a hunger for hair.

People try all kinds of things. Hair ties, tight caps, gel. Nothing quite works, not completely. There’s always another story—the spine-tingling screams, the crunch of bone, the blood from scalps, the bits of human that show up in the product that comes out. That’s the real problem—it ruins the product, gums up the machines. Can’t be having that on the assembly line.

More and more, people just cut their hair. Sometimes it’s mandated by the foreman, but most folks don’t need any prompting. The great machines hunger for human flesh. Mostly fingers, but sometimes hands and arms too, or toes and feet and legs. And hair, always hair. You can’t cut off your arms and legs, but you can cut your hair.

So long hair disappears on the lines. No more ponytails, no more dreads. No more updos, no more afros, no more buns or braids or blowouts. Spikes? Gone. Layers? Gone. It’s not needed on the line, and who’s got the money for that, anyways?

It’s different in the corporate castles, of course. If anything, it’s the opposite. The higher the office, the more elaborate the style, and if you merit a corner office—phew! Business people have needs, after all, and one of those needs is looking the part. Gotta make sure everyone knows you got money!

So the poor cut short and the rich cut long. It’s custom, not law—not until Emala grows her hair out and flings the Labor banner across the sky. There’ve been insurrections before, but nothing like this, where the union madness spreads like plague from factory to factory. Chemos is wracked with war for a full generation, and simmering unrest for another. Everything changes after that.

Ragillan, Inc. is the first corp to establish sumptuary laws, but all the others quickly follow suit. Buzzcuts for the lines, chin length for the cubicles, shoulder length for the lower offices, and of course the upper floors can do whatever they want. Not that they’d be caught dead with a bob, of course.

Years, decades, centuries pass, and slowly other sumptuary laws are added to factories’ regulations. Industria has long been the primary deity on Chemos, but a new philosophical trend begins circulating amongst her worshippers. It is the duty of the poor to save and the rich to spend.

Poverty is a product of laziness, of poor discipline, insouciance, disobedience, bad attitude. Therefore let the poor learn discipline through frugality. Abandon luxury for the important things in life—hard work and a go-getter mindset. Cut the fat from the budget! You can relax when you’ve clawed your way up through the offices. Does man need beauty to survive? Surely not!

The executives quickly realize their duty to shepherd their lines to a higher moral standing. Line workers are a dissolute lot, naturally inclined to sloth, theft, filth, and ignorance. They need a strong hand to keep them on the straight and narrow. Heavy is the executive’s lot, burdened with the duty of uplifting their workers!

And so the sumptuary laws expand. No more sweet-smelling soaps, no more silky-smooth conditioners. No more make-up, perfume, or cologne. No more brightly colored clothing cut to flatter the form, no more patterns or embroidery. No more, no more, no more…

Thirty thousand years after the birth of a forgotten god, Chemos is a dull, grey planet full of dull, grey people. Everyone is stunted, shorn-headed, dull-eyed, dressed in shapeless coveralls, filthy with grease, coughing up soot, exhausted and malnourished, overworked and underpaid. Stare at enough of them and they start to blend together. Labor is a virtue and beauty is a sin.

And then one day—

One day, Tullea and Corrin’s son walks into work, and everyone stops to stare. He’s always been an odd one, as pretty and wise and impossible as his namesake god, but today takes things to the next level. Overnight, his hair has grown down to his waist, and he has teased and twisted and braided it into an elaborate style. Washed and dyed with stolen products, it seems to shift from color to color as it sways in the light. His eyes match his hair, painted with glittering, multicolored eyeshadow and lined with dark, dramatic mascara. Blush dusts his cheeks, lipstick brightens his mouth. Amidst the dull, gray assembly lines of Chemos, the boy is an explosion of color, of beauty, of joy.

Fulgrim looks across the factory floor—at the enthralled workers, the slackjawed foremen, the uncertain enforcers, the distant manager scrambling for her phone—and smiles. Fulgrim smiles, and everyone knows that the lines are going to march.

[music-tourney]

We have 72 songs, this can be raised if 96 if the need arises

Pokerface by Lady Gaga 

Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

Toxic by Britney Spears

Sk8ter Boi by Avril Lavigne 

All my Life by Foo Fighters

American Idiot by Green Day

1985 by Bowling for Soup

Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand 

Somebody Told Me by the Killers

Hey There Delilah by Plain White Tees

Feel Good Inc by the Gorillaz

Sugar we're goin down by Fallout Boy

Brave as a noun by AJJ

Hot N Cold by Katy Perry

Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It) by Beyonce

The Dog Days are Over by Florence + the Machine

Seven Nation Army by White Stripes

Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

She Hates Me by Puddle Of Mudd

Stacy's Mom by Fountains for Wayne

All the Small Things By Blink 182

Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson

Hurt by Johnny Cash

Hey Ya by Outkast

Rehab by Amy Winehouse

Stan by Eminem

Do you realize by The Flaming Lips

Sexyback by Justin Timberlake

Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus

Drops of Jupiter (Tell Me) by Train

Californication by the Red Hot Chili Peppers

Fireflies by Owl City

TiK ToK by Ke$ha

Gives you Hell by All American Rejects 

Paper Planes by M.I.A.

Can't get you out of my head by Kylie Monogue

I write sins not tragedies by Panic! At the Disco

Short Skirt/Long Jacket by CAKE

Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

Bring Me to Life by Evanescence

Before he cheats by Carrie Underwood 

Vida La Vida by Coldplay

Photograph by Nickelback

99 Problems by Jay-Z

Hash Pipe by Weezer

A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton

Love Story by Taylor Swift

Unwell by MatchBox Twenty 

Yeah! by Usher

Dilemma by Nelly and Kelly Rowland

Beautiful by Christina Aguilera 

My Hips Don't Lie by Shakira

I gotta Feeling by Black Eyed Peas

Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani

Watcha Say by Jason Derulo

Drop it like it's Hot by Snoop Dogg

Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield

Numb by Linkin Park

Umbrella by Rihanna 

Crazy in Love by Beyonce and Jay Z

How to Save a Life by The Fray

Get the Party Started by P!nk

Survivor By Destiny's Child

Everytime we touch by Cascada

Beautiful Girls by Sean Kingston

Bad day by Daniel Powter

Chop Suey By System of a Down

I'm Yours by Jason Mraz

Crazy by Gnarls Barkley 

The Middle by Jimmy Eat World

Harder Better Faster Stronger by Daft Punk

Chewing Gum by Annie

[rakurairagnarok]

Hey I love your products! Got any cool new testers I could try out?

We truely appreciate the welcoming few who are willing to take the risks. The following is a new prototype of an established product.

You walked through the flea market with feigned interest. You really had no need for any of this stuff but as district manager of the supermarket chain it was held infront of, you had to save face.

One of the people selling stuff was this quite well put together man in a suit. He was tall, slight beard, and an obvious dye job, seeing the color difference in his hair and beard. He was however very sweet looking and walked up to you as you approached his booth.

"Here you go sir, as a sign of good will"

You took the item from his hands. It was a silver set of headphones with the brand name lazered into the head rest. Rakurai Inc.

It looked quite high tech for a flee market but you figured it must be faulty for this man to just give it away.

"Ah thank you, but I have no need for junk like this."

"Ah please sir, It would mean so much to me if you just wore it."

Rolling your eyes you decide to humor the man and put it on. Immediately you notice something is wrong, as a monotonous voice starts speaking japanese through it.

At first you're bewildered, looking around, searching for the man. But when you turned around you found that not only did the man totally dissapear, his booth was gone as well.

Suddenly the voice began speaking english, but you didn't register what it was saying, looking for someone to ask where the man went.

'Sorry, do you know where the man who was just here went?"

The woman who you asked looked at you with a confused look in her eyes and then said something back. You didn't quite caught what she said, but for some reason you did realise it was English. But that doesn't make sense, you spoke English. Right? No that also didn't quite make sense. You had come to America to improve your English. You... you were... Japanese.

You looked down at your expensive suit, seeing that it had been replaced with a pullover, with a shirt and tie.

You quickly run to the bathroom and look at yourself. Your old visage has tightened around your new youthfull face. Your previously receding hairline has recovered itself and styled itself in a stylish young cut.

You run a hand down your new skinny torso, throwing your head back as just your fingers on your skin send waves of pleasure down your spine.

A fruity taste fills your mouth as you suddenly notice chewing gum in your mouth.

After blowing a bubble and having it pop your brain slows down, and your dick jumps. Each successive bubble you blow and pop, decreases your IQ and increases your libido by the same amount.

Once you spit it out because it has no flavour left, youre left a giggling mess, waiting for your boss's orders for the next shoot.

These americans love their asian playboys

I want to SINCERELY APOLOGISE. This ask has been send in by a good friend of mine to replace the ask I lost due to Tumblr app being a shit show.

[toshitophchan]

Even before the gang had truly gotten to know Elmo Zimmer the Third, they’d gotten to know his hair. His curly ginger haie meant he was a target for bullies all through primary school. Kids thought it was funny to say he had no soul and call him a wide variety of orange foods, but it wasn’t just that. Elmo had always kept his hair fairly short like all the other boys had, curled around his ears and remaining that way up to year seven. When Elmo was twelve however, he stopped cutting his hair suddenly. It grew long and it grew fast. By the time the kids had become teenagers, sixteen to be precise, Elmo’s curly ginger hair reached his lower back. It was definitely an odd look, no one was ever quite sure if it really worked or not, but despite a lot of teasing, Elmo’s hair remained stubbornly long. Elmo often wore it down, or in a messy ponytail that just screamed ‘I’m a dag.’ He didn’t seem to care about looking after it, but he never cut it.

“It’s so infuriating.” Richelle sighed one day at lunch, eyes fixated on her nails.

“What is?” Liz asked patiently after it became clear Richelle wasn’t going to elaborate.

“His hair,” Richelle yawned slightly. “It’s hideous.” Her eye flickered over to Elmo, sitting along, hair frantically flapping in the breeze that was lingering from winter.

“Looks like someone set his head on fire.” Tom laughed.

“Well if he likes it like that, then who are we to judge.” Sunny said firmly and that was the end of that conversation. Sunny had that sort of power within the group, when she talked, people listened. Still, they kept shooting glances over at the teen throughout the day.

The next day, Nick stumbled across Elmo in the boy’s bathroom with a pair of those cheap blue handled scissors every classroom had in his hands. His eyes were slightly red like he’d cried briefly or encountered something he was allergic to.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Nick’s mind flew to one conclusion. “Hey buddy, do you wanna put the scissors down.”

Elmo spun at the sound of his voice, staring first at the stationary in his hands, then at Nick, eyes wide with confusion.

“Um…I’m just trying to cut some gum out my hair.” Elmo chewed his lip nervously. He turned slightly to show off the tangled wad. “I do it all the time, it’s not going to go wrong.”

“Oh,” Nick willed his cheeks not to flame out of embarrassment. “Wait, you do it often?”

“Well yeah,” Elmo shuffled his feet. “I mean this curly mop of hair is just asking to be targeted.”

“Oh, right.” Nick turned and left the bathroom. He didn’t know what else to say. He needed to pee but it was more awkward to stay.

He waited outside the door however, ear pressed against the cheap wood in an attempt to eavesdrop. He heard the faint sounds of scissors snipping and then Elmo sighed loudly and footsteps approached the exit. Nick darted away, round a corner and out of sight. He didn’t want Elmo to know that he’d been hanging around and listening in.

He peered round the corner cautiously when he didn’t hear Elmo coming towards him. He spotted the boy leaning against the wall, head buried in his hands. His shoulders shook with…sobs? He was probably trying to compose himself, but why not do it in the privacy of the bathroom?

Then, Nick saw that Elmo was laughing. Giggling. Snorting as he tried to be quiet. Something in Nick told him that Elmo was laughing at him. He couldn’t be sure though- it was just a feeling. He could always ask, but Nick also had the feeling that he’d overstepped some sort of invisible boundary today. He’d reacted like a dumb idiot, implying that Elmo was about to commit suicide in the bathroom and not perform a hasty hair cut.

Damn.

Nick turned and stalked away. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

No more fraternizing with Elmo Zimmer the weird.

Roddacember 2024 Day 2 | Feels Good Activity

This is the start of an incredibly indulgent Nick x Elmo Teen power Inc fic I've been writing for like, 5 years at this point. I'm not writing it for anybody but myself really (this is the first time I've posted anything about it), and it's a total feel good piece of work I tap away at whenever I'm in the mood. Happy Feels Good Roddacember!!!!!

[paigeyssims2004]

Monsters, Inc. X Finding Nemo AU: Gettin' ready

Adam was in bed, fast asleep....and snoring very loudly. On his nightstand, the clock radio clicks on.

Radio Host: "Gooood morning Heaven, It's now 6 after the hour of 5 a.m. in this glorious city."

Turns out it was Lute, who is standing next to the first man's bed.

Lute: "Temperature's a balmy 65 degrees, which is good news for you Winners, and it looks like it's gonna be a perfect day to just lie in bed, sleep in, or simply...WORK OUT THAT FLAB THAT'S HANGING OVER THE BED!!! Get up, Adam!" *pulls out an airhorn*

*H O O O O O O O N N N N K*

Adam: " AAAAHHHHHH-" *falls off bed* "OW! WHA-WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Lute: "Finally you're awake."

(the living room)

Adam, on the floor doing push-ups: "I don't believe I ordered a wake-up call, Lute."

Lute: "Hey, less talk, more pain, marshmallow boy! Feel the burn!"

The angel would pile heavy stuff onto the Winner's back between each push-up....just for his strength.

Lute, seeing that Adam is starting to shake: "You call yourself an Exorcist?"

Adam yells loudly, completing his last push-up.

(cuts to Adam pushing more heavy furniture across the room. Lute sits atop the pile encouraging him)

Lute, singing like a Drill Sergeant: "I don't know but it's been told, killing Sinners is our goal!"

(cuts to the bathroom with Adam and Lute brushing their teeth)

Lute, still barking orders like a coach: "Come on, fight that plaque! Fight that plaque! Exorcists don't have plaque!"

Adam: *brushing intensifies* "SHIT-gums are bleeding!"

After putting on their uniforms, they left their apartment and headed to the Heaven Embassy for a meeting with the King of Hell.

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (1/44)

Basic Plot: Tanya is a prisoner who is condemned to be a meal in a restaurant that serves humans as food to hungry Giants.

Total Word Count: 113,660

This is a spin-off/ sequel to my story Big Corp Inc. (linked if you want to read that first) and will feature recurring characters.

Content Warning: Graphic depictions of both soft and hard vore, gore, and sex. Scenes including giants and giantesses for all of the above, though male giants are heavily favored. Intended for mature audiences.

Preamble: Rules and Disclaimers for Bucky's Restaurant

Welcome, Giant restaurant patrons and connoisseurs, to Bucky’s! We are pleased to finally announce the arrival of our long-awaited menu option, live humans! Guaranteed to please the palate and satisfy the stomach, humans come in a variety of flavors and options for your delectation!   

There are two general categories for human entrees at Bucky’s restaurant: temporary ingestion or fatal. The latter category is a very expensive option for only the wealthiest of customers, who may do as they please with their menu selection. All patrons of Bucky’s who choose the former, non-fatal option must recognize that all humans are the property of Bucky’s establishment and must abide by these rules. They are as follows: 

You may play with your food as much as you please, but cannot physically harm the human in any way. 

No chewing of the human, biting, severance of limbs, or decapitation may occur. 

It is not permitted for you to leave the restaurant with your human entrée, whether outside or inside you. 

Humans must vacate the body after two hours, or within three hours of being served to your table, or else you will be charged full price for fatal ingestion. 

Any violation of these rules will result in a lifetime ban from the establishment. 

DISCLAIMERS: Availability of human entrees is limited, so pricing is variable and will be more expensive during peak hours or weekends. Stock is not guaranteed. Reservations can be made in advance if necessary, for a specific human or a private dining room, for an additional fee. Extra human entrees may be ordered for an additional fee. Human flavoring is variable, ranging from savory to sweet, and cannot be guaranteed. No refunds for taste if human has already been ingested. Bucky’s is not responsible for any damages to clothing or personal belongings, or for injuries to any part of the body, including but not limited to the lips, teeth, gums, tongue, mouth, throat, or gastrointestinal tract. Bucky’s does not guarantee compliance of human stock. “Willing” or “unwilling” participants may be special ordered for an extra fee. Bucky’s does guarantee that humans will be unarmed. If human is lost when served to the customer, full price for fatal ingestion will be charged. Bucky’s reserves the right to refuse service. 

Chapter 1: Arrest

Tanya, as usual, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She seemed to be perpetually cursed with bad luck, or perhaps bad judgement—most likely, a combination of both. She had let her roommate Jenny borrow her car, despite her misgivings. Jenny, regrettably, was not the most responsible of individuals, and indeed was a bit seedy, but Tanya couldn’t afford the rent herself, so she had to live with somebody. If nothing else, Jenny was at least conscientious enough to pay her share of the rent on time, and that was enough for Tanya. 

When Jenny got her own car towed due to parking in a spot where she wasn’t supposed to, she asked Tanya to borrow hers. Tanya didn’t entirely trust Jenny with her precious car, but if Jenny couldn’t drive herself to work then she couldn’t pay her share of the rent. So Tanya allowed her to use her car, until Jenny managed to get her own car back.  

Tanya’s problems began when she started driving her own car again. Soon after, a reckless drunk driver plowed into her car, totaling it, and police were called to the scene of the accident. Tanya discovered, at the same time as the police, that her lovely roommate had stashed big bricks of drugs in her car, and not an inconsequential quantity either. The drugs had been dislodged from their hiding place and revealed due to the damage from the wreck. Of course, the police didn’t believe Tanya’s story, and she was arrested for possession of illegal substances.  

Her misfortunes didn’t stop there. The police got a warrant to search her apartment, and found more of Jenny’s drugs. Jenny had the foresight to hide them in Tanya’s room, rather than her own, so she could deny any culpability. Tanya was now facing two back-to-back felony charges. To her dismay, she learned that the laws for drugs were especially draconian within her jurisdiction, since the area suffered a high crime wave and had been infested with drug dealers, addicts, and violent gangs. The politicians wanted to clean up the city, so they voted in significantly harsher penalties for drug possession. 

Tanya was caught in the perfect storm. When her employer heard about her arrest, her boss promptly fired her. Now, she had no source of income, she was facing a losing case, and she needed a lawyer that she couldn’t afford. She had no choice but to go with the public defender, who was too overburdened with other cases to give her trial the individualized attention it required. When she was taken from her holding place in jail after a few days to her trial, she was discouraged to find that her court-appointed lawyer had not even reviewed her case until he walked into the courtroom. He was completely unprepared to defend her in front of a stern, unsympathetic judge, who regarded her with scathing condescension. The judge was an ancient man layered with wrinkles and weariness. 

“I hate slimy little maggots like you,” the judge ranted down to Tanya from his high perch, narrowing his beady eyes at her. “You think you can run this city into the ground, peddling your poison and fattening your wallet with no regard for others. All you criminals are the same. You disgust me.” 

Tanya bit her tongue at his rude, inappropriate remarks. She knew talking back within the formalized setting of the courtroom would only get her in more trouble. She glanced over at her lawyer with desperation. The lawyer was a bleary-eyed, doddering fool who looked too young to have graduated from law school, and too tired to be up this early in the morning. She was horrified to behold the incompetence of her defense, the lack of impartiality she was facing from the judge, and the terrible injustice of a cold, inhumane system. 

Not surprisingly, with the evidence against her, and the paper-thin argument from her lawyer, the trial was alarmingly brief. Tanya was declared guilty. Her heart stopped as the judge pounded the gavel on the podium, smashing all her hopes and dreams in one fell swoop. She felt weakness in her knees as she awaited her sentencing. 

“I’ll give you a choice,” the judge announced. “You have the option of serving ten years in prison...” Tanya couldn’t restrain herself from gasping audibly in horror at the severe punishment. A decade of her life would be gone, just like that. “Or you can spend one year doing forced labor.” Tanya couldn’t believe her ears. The choices didn’t make any logical sense. How was one year in any way equivalent to ten? She could only conclude that there must be some sort of trick or catch. She presumed the labor must be brutal, backbreaking, and hellacious, a job that no sane person would voluntarily choose. 

Even if that were the case, though, she’d only have to endure it for a year. A single year, three hundred sixty-five days of pure torture, and then she’d be free, and she could put this whole mess behind her and move on with her life. 

Her lawyer leaned in and obnoxiously whispered in her ear. “As your counsel, I recommend you take the year of forced labor.” No shit. Tanya nodded in agreement, feeling her mouth go dry as sandpaper. She still felt considerable unease, like she was walking into a trap. Before she could mull over the issue any further, the judge finalized the decision with another resounding slam of his gavel, and she was summarily dismissed. Tanya was escorted by two police officers back to her jail cell. The bars slid shut with a ringing crash, cementing her fate. 

She sat down on the stiff cot and glanced around at the sparse colorless furnishings of her cell without really seeing them. She reflected on the trial and wondered if she was making the right decision. Her former life felt like it was fading away, to be replaced by naught but an empty void of pain. 

She was given the opportunity to make a phone call, so she decided to call her boyfriend for comfort. She had to pay per minute for the call, and it was on a recorded line, but the inconveniences were worth the solace hearing his voice would provide. The phone rang several times before he finally accepted the call. 

“Hey, baby,” he said awkwardly. “I heard about the sentence. I’m sorry.” 

Tanya struggled to keep her voice steady. “Yeah. It sucks, but at least I’ll be out in a year, rather than a decade. I just don’t know any details about the labor part of it.” 

“Oh... yeah, pretty terrible stuff.” He sounded distracted. “Listen, Tanya... I hate to do this to you now, with circumstances as they are. But...” Tanya’s heart stopped in her chest. “I don’t think I can handle this, ya know?” 

“W-what do you mean?” Tanya stammered, terrified of his response. 

“What I’m saying is... I’m breaking up with you, Tanya. It’s over.” 

“No, wait-” Tanya began to protest, but he abruptly hung up on her. She listened to the dial tone dumbly for a long moment before the phone slipped out of her limp hand and dangled from its curly cord. Tears filled her eyes. She had been with him for two years. They had plans to move in together when her lease was up. This was the man she wanted to someday marry, and he had mercilessly dumped her at the first sign of trouble. He knew she wasn’t involved in drugs, and that her sentence was unjust, but he didn’t care. She wasn’t important enough for him to stand by her side and wait out a year. She was devastated by his betrayal. 

She wiped her eyes and held in her feelings while the guards paraded her through the rows of bars to her own cell. Once they tossed her in, slammed the bars shut, and left, she allowed herself to finally let it all out. She sobbed all night, wetting the sleeves of her orange jumpsuit with salty, bitter tears. In the span of a few days, she had lost everything: her livelihood, her freedom, her old life, her belongings, and now her beloved. All evaporated into the ether. 

She eventually drifted off to sleep, but found herself in the same pit of purgatory when she woke up. She listlessly stared up at the concrete ceiling, not bothering to rouse herself from bed. She was locked up in a cramped, bare room regardless, so she couldn’t go anywhere. She struggled to contend with the overwhelming despair that threatened to snuff her out, like a weak flame in a torrent of rain. She didn’t know if she could make it, or go on any longer. 

She wasn’t given much choice in the matter, for the burly guards startled her out of her thoughts when they came to collect her. The bars rolled open with a tumultuous clatter and they seized her by the arms and dragged her to her feet. They slapped cold metal cuffs on her wrists and forced her to march along with them with brisk strides. Neither guard spoke to her, so Tanya silently walked between the two tall muscular men, laboring to keep up with them with her shorter legs. 

They took her down to the parking structure, shoved her in the back of a police cruiser, and drove off. Tanya looked out through the bars on the window into the bright afternoon sun. Her concept of time had been warped by spending days in a windowless cell, staring into the abyss. The car drove for a while until they came upon a gray concrete box of a building. The outside was bland and lacked any adornments. There were no signs or labels indicating the function of this structure, only a metal door with a keycard reader on the side. One of the officers swiped his badge and the door unlocked with a solid clunk. 

The other officer thrust the heavy door open with the groaning of metal and pushed Tanya ahead inside. The passage was narrow, too narrow for three people to walk abreast, so Tanya found herself sandwiched between the two guards as one man walked ahead of her and the other man followed behind her, blocking any chances of escape. Tanya felt mildly claustrophobic, hemmed in by thick walls of solid gray in the dimly lit hallway. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the eerie silence. At the end of the hall was a steep set of stairs that stretched down into dark gloom. As Tanya traveled down the stairs into the bowels of the earth, she was overcome with a sense of ominous foreboding. She had no idea where she was being taken, but she knew she wasn’t going to like it. 

The stairs tunneled deep underground, to unfathomable depths. The lights became dimmer the further they journeyed down, until they finally reached the bottom. Tanya didn’t know what to expect, but she was surprised to behold a subway station with a single platform and track. A boxy industrial car was waiting for the trio on the rails, so they entered the car and sat down. Other than them, the car was deserted. The guard to Tanya’s right hit a button on the wall that slid the door closed, and the engine of the machine roared to life, jerking them forward. 

The railcar chugged ahead slowly at first, sputtering and rattling, but gradually picked up speed as it burrowed through the gloomy underground tunnels like a mechanical mole. The metal groaned and strained as the car went faster and faster, as if it would break apart when it reached a fast enough pace. Tanya dug her nails into her palms and swallowed nervously. Her skin was prickling with apprehension. The railcar was rattling wildly now as it rocketed forward at a breakneck speed, the orange lights in the tunnel sweeping past in waves. The guards on either side of her remained as hushed and immobile as statues carved from stone. 

Tanya licked her dry lips and queried timidly, “W-where are we going?” Neither guard deigned to respond, and she lapsed back into uncomfortable silence. The car started to slow, vibrating heavily, as it climbed up a long slope, reducing its speed dramatically. It finally shuttered to a stop, and the door loudly clanged open to reveal nothing but a vast darkness. The guards simultaneously stood up, hauling Tanya to her feet. To her surprise, rather than escorting her out, they removed her handcuffs and pushed her out of the dim interior of the railcar into the darkness.  

Before she could react, the door closed and the railcar shuddered back to life, chugging away along the rails with a grinding squeal. Tanya was too stunned to do anything for a moment before the car retreated into a tunnel and a metal door crashed down behind it, leaving her alone in inky blackness.

Chapter 2

Table of Contents:

Ch. 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44

Writing Masterpost

[paperbackpanic]

What musics the CP Girls would have in their playlists (+my playlists I think they could enjoy)

A/n: Did this so quick while I was wanting for the bus because I feel bad for leaving you guys without nothing for that long

Nina 💗🔪

Hello kitty - Jazmin Bean

Copycat - CircusP

Yandere - Jazmin Bean

I'm so crazy for youuu </3 - Rebzyyx

The Masochism tango - Tom Leharer

Dead girl walking - Heathers musical

Femme Fatale - Hypnosis Microphone D.R.B (I will not be writing the Japanese stuff lmao)

Bubble gum bitch - MARINA

Twisted - MISSIO

Candle Queen - Ghost and Pals, Silver chord music

I think my playlists she would enjoy are: Animation meme phase , weird kid nostalgia and Cemetery Girl

Jane 🔪🥀

Great Milenko - Insane Clown Posse

Apocalypse - Cigarettes after sex

Lolita - VIOLENT VIRA

Imma kill u - Insane Clown Posse

Feel good Inc. - Gorillaz

Perfume - Lovejoy (bc she's a softie deep down)

Swim - Chase Atlantic

Hayloft II - Mother Mother

Feel Better - Penelope Scott

Cigarettes out the window - TV Girl

I think my playlists she would enjoy are: June , Jugallo and Jaspen

Clockwork⌛🕰️

Wires - The neighborhood

Slow Down - Chase Atlantic

BABYDOLL - Ari Abdul

Sweat - ZYAN

Can Ghost Be Gay? - carpetgarden

P.U.N.K Girl - Heavenly

Orange Juice - Melanie Martinez

505 - Artic Monkeys

Blue Hair - TV Girl

Young & Dumb - Cigarettes after sex

I think my playlists she would enjoy are: bath time , Jaspen and your lips my lips apocalypse

[lexisnotasimp]

Baldi's basics oc/self-insert!

Design:

Name: Mrs Lex

Nicknames: Lex, Mrs Lynn

Character description in

principles office: A art teacher who is almost always in her class drawing.

.

Facts:

1. Lex uses her first name at the end of her teacher instead of her last name in her formal teacher name (Mrs Lex instead of Mrs Lynn)

2. Lex listens to bands like Gorillaz, Tally Hall, YFM and Queen. And artists like Michael Jackson, Weird Al, Ray William Johnson, etc.

.

Full name: Lex Lynn

.

Age: in her 30s

.

How she works:

When a character is chasing you, she will stop them and tell them to go away, and they will leave you alone for 30 seconds. (Note: She can't stop Baldi, The Principal of the thing, Arts and crafts, Mrs Pomp, Cloudy Copter, Chalkie, Gotta sweep, and 1st prize)

(Note 2: It's not common for her to be out of her art room and she will only help if she sees them chasing you)

.

Dialog:

To Dr Reflex:

Lex: The Student doesn't need a reflex test right now!

Dr Reflex: But it's important!..

Lex: You can do that later!

-Insert Dr Reflex walking away-

To Playtime:

Lex: No jump roping right now please. Go outside if you wanna play jump rope right now.

-Insert Playtime frowning and walking away-

To This is a bully:

Lex: Go to detention! No bullying in the halls!

.

-Insert the bully dissappearing-

To beans:

Lex: No spitting gum at other kids, Beans!

Beans: Sorry.

Extra emote when she's scolding them:

.

Birthday: May 11

Height: 5'6

Her favorite song: Feel Good inc or Die Young

Her favorite food: Goldfish (the crackers)

Her favorite drink: Pink Lemonade

Her favorite person in the school: Playtime or Dr Reflex

Her least favorite person in the school: Baldi or This is a Bully

Her classroom:

A room with canvases and paintings on the wall, she has a pinboard with her students' art. You can find safety scissors in there. (The room is only unlocked when she's out of her classroom.)

.

Note: She stays out of her room until she spots one of the three characters annoying you she can scold. She only comes out once or twice a level

.

Levels she appears in: 1 and 2

[cities-yura15cbx]

Владивосток. Ночь. Улицы. фонарь. Urban jazz

Vladivostok. Night.

Golden Horn Bay Svetlanskaya St., 133, 12th floor 00:00:01.20 Bestuzheva St. 00:04:45.08 1-ya Morskaya St. 00:04:58.00 Aleutskaya St. 00:07:24.01 Sportivnaya Embankment 00:07:46.07 Svetlanskaya St. 00:09:17.16 Millionka St. 00:12:18.22 Fokina 00:14:39.29 Flower Passage 00:19:28.00 Okeansky Prospekt 00:21:53.18 Central Square 00:22:28.10 Old GUM Yard 00:23:29.21 Svetlanskaya St. 00:25:44.23 Laz Bus Stop 00:28:52.11 Svetlanskaya St., 80. Hydrographic Service of the Pacific Fleet 00:33:11.18 Dalzavod Bus Stop 00:34:14.23 My nearest grocery store 00:36:30.13 Svetlanskaya St., 131b. Primorye Bank 00:36:37.11 Svetlanskaya St., 131b. Svetlanskaya, 143. Beer market Bochonok 00:38:28,11 (the best alcoholic in Vladivostok) Svetlanskaya st., 133, 12th floor 00:49:31,28 Sea terminal 00:50:17,18 Railway station 00:51:23,03 Aleutskaya st. 00:53:54,00 Central square 00:58:29,26 GUM 01:02:20,22 Svetlanskaya st. 01:02:44,04 Main post office 01:03:30,22 DVGTU bus stop 01:10:13,12

Yuriy Karetin (Юрий Каретин, yura15cbx) https://t.me/Yuriy_Karetin - me https://t.me/Still_video - my Still video channel, inc. cellular automata https://t.me/addlist/zXtcpwROQI4wNTIy - my channels

Ночной Владивосток. original sounds

Владивосток вечерний.

Залив "Золотой Рог" ул. Светланская, 133, 12 этаж 00:00:01,20 ул. Бестужева 00:04:45,08 ул. 1-я Морская 00:04:58,00 ул. Алеутская 00:07:24,01 Спортивная набережная 00:07:46,07 ул. Светланская 00:09:17,16 Миллионка 00:12:18,22 ул. Фокина 00:14:39,29 Цветочный пассаж 00:19:28,00 Океанский проспект 00:21:53,18 Центральная площадь 00:22:28,10 Старый дворик ГУМа 00:23:29,21 ул. Светланская 00:25:44,23 ост. Лазо 00:28:52,11 ул. Светланская, 80. Гидрографическая служба Тихоокеанского флота 00:33:11,18 ост. Дальзавод 00:34:14,23 мой ближайший продуктовый 00:36:30,13 ул. Светланская, 131б. Банк "Приморье" 00:36:37,11 ул. Светланская, 143. Пивомаркет Бочонок 00:38:28,11 (лучший алкогольный Владивостока) ул. Светланская, 133, 12 этаж 00:49:31,28 Морской вокзал 00:50:17,18 ЖД Вокзал 00:51:23,03 ул. Алеутская 00:53:54,00 Центральная площадь 00:58:29,26 ГУМ 01:02:20,22 ул. Светланская 01:02:44,04 Главпочтамп 01:03:30,22 ост. ДВГТУ 01:10:13,12

[kchasm]

Ryu Number: Risto Mejide

Risto Mejide is a Spanish music producer, known also for his appearance as a judge on a number of reality talent shows. He's known for his harsh and caustic criticism, making him something like a Spanish Simon Cowell—

Okay, listen. I'm going to cop to this: I didn't know who Risto Mejide was a week ago and I still mostly have no idea. Everything in that last paragraph I got off a couple of Wikipedia pages. No, the reason you're seeing this Ryu Number post is because I played History Warriors, and by gum, I am going to wring this utterly minuscule drop of value out of that arid desert stone. I can't have suffered for nothing, right?

History Warriors is not a good game.

History Warriors is a fighting game in the sense that I Spy is a competitive activity—yes, that's true, but if it's the highlight of your local tourney it's a sign that something has gone terribly wrong.

The plot of the game is as follows: After the fall of Nazi Germany, Hitler was secretly tucked away into some sort of suspended storage. Now he's awake, and he's gotten access to time travel technology, which he's used to pull a number of famous historical characters (William Shakespeare, Cleopatra, Abraham Lincoln, Joan of Arc, Che Guevara, Shaka, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Napoleon) to the present day with the end goal of irreversibly mucking up the timeline. Not exactly high lit, but as far as an excuse to get a bunch of disparate characters at each other's throats, it's at least more creative than another martial arts tournament.

Unfortunately, History Warriors—and I've said this already but it bears repeating—is not a good game. It's a bunch of free-to-low-cost assets compressed into a weeping mass by a developer, "Clipstories, Inc.," which is almost certainly just a handful of folks in Spain who know each other. Characters all have the same standard attacks—a high punch, a low punch, a high kick, and a low kick. There are special projectile moves but attempting to view the manual from the Steam page redirects to the game's official site (as much as anything about this game can be called "official"), which... doesn't exist anymore.

The computer-controlled characters do know how to use the projectiles, of course. The projectiles are, incidentally, completely unavoidable, too large to jump and too low to duck. Can you block? You can block. The input for blocking is also the input for backing up, which is a fighting game norm, except that in History Warriors when your character is moving backward they aren't automatically blocking, as far as I can tell, so effectively what happens when you press back is that your characters blocks for a second and then starts walking backward defenselessly.

(I freely admit I might be slightly wrong there, but like hell I'm going to go back and analyze the mechanics.)

When two characters' attacks meet—two characters hit each other at the same time, in other words—rather than the attacks canceling each other out, they both go through. This means that the victor of the round is essentially decided by which character has the longest limbs (balance is a thing that happens to other fighting games). A further hampering comes in the form of hitboxes that have been placed, to put it charitably, unpredictably. Often floating an appreciatable length off from the end of a fighter's limb, in fact.

My main strategy in beating this game was to get in my opponent's space first thing before they could start throwing their impossible-to-avoid projectiles and spam a kicking to the shins. It barely worked, but it worked enough that I could get through each playable characters' lineup of opponents... after a lot of game overs, anyway (you don't have to start from the beginning if you lose—thank goodness for small favors).

The worst offense, though, after all this, is that the game isn't even entertainingly bad. Sure, on the surface—and especially with its awfully silly concept—History Warriors seems like the type of Bad Video Game that'd be perfect for some streamer to make fun of playing for a couple hours. But with every character essentially an identical fighter save for reach and the quickness with which strategy devolves into slurry, the whole damn thing is just a slog.

To wrap up this thesis: History Warriors is a bad game, and I think I've made that as clear as I can. But this is the internet, and the internet is chock full of productions of terrible quality that don't deserve a critical haranguing, stories and games and songs and videos that might accurately be called flawed or even subpar, but which were put together by creators who, for what skill they lacked, worked with sincerity and a motivation sourced from the joy of creation. I firmly believe that that's admirable in its own way—that it's behavior that ought to be encouraged, even through the stinkers.

That said—

There is no universe where this was worth fifteen dollars.

...Oh, right, Ryu Numbers. Uh, when you beat the game with a character it turns out they can't go back to their original time, so you get a still image showing what they're up to in the present day. Lincoln runs for President again, Napoleon streams video games, Che's at Occupy Wall Street—it's all very uninspired. When you beat the game as Mozart, he ends up on a talent show with an MS Paint mic.

Copyright infringement is a thing that happens to other developers, so the judges are clearly identifiable as being from Got Talent España, the Spanish version in the Got Talent franchise. From the fourth season, it seems.

See? Same digs.

Admittedly, my knowledge of the Spanish language begins and ends at "biblioteca," but Wikipedia tells me that this judge lineup consisted of Risto Mejide, Edurne, Eva Isanta, and Paz Padilla, so barring it turning out, I don't know, this particular episode had a guest replacing him and I couldn't tell because I'm garbage at facial recognition or something, Risto Mejide has a Ryu Number of 2, or 3 if you don't like Minecraft.

You know what's worse? This is probably the quickest way to get to Che Guevara, too.

[wwwquickpakinccom]