#lungbuster

[cognitohazardous]

i was looking for lungbuster ytps cause i was talking about how my partner and i watched them in high school and i checked the youtube automated mix and im just so perplexed by this list. are you sure any of these have anything in common except for 1 and 3 being enjoyed by edgy white boys. why is igorrr there he doesnt deserve that

[bowlerhatwearer]

tell us moar about oddsworld and your old oc

Greetings Anon

Oddworld is about many things, but, I guess you could summarize it by saying Oddworld is about, people freeing themselves from oppression, and the reclamation of identity, culture and land.

In each one of the Oddworld game, you either way play as a character from a species that has been, oppressed, or has gone nearly extinct.

The world of Oddworld is also called Oddworld and the continent where the games take place is named Mudos.

Two of the most prominent races are the Glukkons, who, in the present have a heavy connection to technology / the industrial aspect, and the Mudokon, who, I think you could say, have a deeper connection to the spiritual and to nature.

In the main games you play as Abe, whose mission it is to free the other Mudokon's and put an end to the oppression and enslavement of his people.

I guess that summarizes it, I do hope that the explanation makes sense, I have to admit it has been a while since I have thought about Oddworld, so it is possible I got some parts wrong ^^,,,

The OC's name is John/Joe Newstart, an individual that because of an accident is encased in an robotic suit, he is also the CEO and founder of "Fallen Stars Productions." a company that produces entertainment and security systems.

His video games are known to be filled with both, visible and hidden advertisements, his video games also are in both, 8 and 16 pixel graphics.

John's/Joe's robotic suit keeps him alive, and he also relies on painkillers that are injected by his personal Shrink

(Note: On the world of Oddworld what is known as a "Shrink" is a robot with an artificial intelligence).

He also enjoys smoking "Lungbuster Cigarettes and Cigars" that help Newstart to calm down and relax, and although it is a bit difficult for him, due to his heavy burns, he does enjoy eating, for example Scrab Cakes, Paramite Pie, or Meech Munchies (he has saved a few of those in his freezer given that Meeches went extinct some time ago)

In the present he is still the CEO of his company that is located in the city of Nolybab.

At first he too believes that the stories about Rapture Farms and its destruction are nothing more than rumors, however, John/Joe is up for an bad awakening when he hears about the latest news (the events of Oddworld: Soulstorm)

Yours sincerely

Bowler

[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 10, Draft 1

“Dammit!” Conar muttered, looking at the other Sligs through a gap in the crates. “Shoulda known they’d up the security on these things.”

“Wait, it’s not normal to have Sligs everywhere?”

“Not on the trains. Usually just Mudokons watchin’ over the cargo. But we saw more of Abe lately, right?”

Slim nodded, looking over to see an irritated and damp Slig stomping on what was left of his cigarette. The other one looked ready to clobber him with his club.

“Oh, this’ll be easy!”  Conar said, lifting a pistol up. “They were still too cheap to get real weapons for these guys, huh?”

He trained a bead, preparing for a rapid-fire solution to this problem that wouldn’t require anything else, but stopped. Behind them, there was the same Slog crate he had put Chairman in.

He couldn’t risk hitting a Slog, let alone his boy.

“Mama always said my head strap was a bit loose,” he grumbled, packing the gun away. “Probl’y got the standard firepower alarms, too.”

“Y-your head strap?” Slim asked, but shook his head. “What now, then?”

“Lemme know if you got any ideas,” he said. “I don’t think we could take ‘em without more incoming, and they just gotta get lucky once.”

“Well, let’s find a place to hide so we can talk about this.”

“I’m not sitting in Meep crap again.”

A few minutes later, they found a place where Slim could not only clamber up to a better vantage point, but also pull Conar up without issue. Once his companion was up, Slim lied down flat, trying to keep himself in the center.

“What the…?” Conar asked, before realization made him chuckle. “Eh, don’t worry. Not a lot of us look up. Too busy with the grounds we’re guardin’, I guess.”

He looked down at the grounds below, the labyrinth of beasts and light security suddenly feeling smaller than he had thought.

“Really kinda stupid,” he admitted. “I mean, death from above is a thing, yeah? I never got why they didn’t check for that.”

“Better for us, I guess.”

As Slim stood up, his dirty cap got caught on something, forcing his gaze upward to reveal another sprinkler. He adjusted his hat and took his surroundings in, soon seeing a screen showing the fire danger and meat doneness level. Even better, the Slog crate wasn’t that far.

“Hey, I think we could get a distraction goin’,” he said, taking his cap and wrapping it around the sprinkler above them. “And you might be able to get a smoke in, too.”

“Welp, I’m sold.”

There was no hesitation on Conar’s part. He was puffing and slouching before Slim could say anything else.

The alarms started blaring once more, and the sprinklers started going. Slim felt his cap soak in his hands, but kept strong. He wasn’t sure what kinds of animals they were standing above, and he didn’t need their noises attracting more attention their way.

Conar finally felt at ease again. It had been forever since his last Lungbuster, and he was going to savor this. Not even the blaring alarms or panicked creatures and guards below could bring him down. Idly, he watched as other Sligs ran around, trying to find the smoker to beat, or find the fire if that failed. He could see the screens go from “Still Rare” to “Medium Well”, and the meter was still rising. The picture of a Scrab went from happy to concerned.

A couple of Sligs ran close to their perch, still failing to look up at the source of the problem.

“You think Delkin’s in one of these again?” one of them asked, banging against a crate with his Bouncer baton. There was chatter from inside the box, but it quickly died down.

“Maybe he’ll share the *really* good stuff if we feed his arms to the Slogs,” the other laughed. He took out his larger baton, wrapped in metal plating, and slammed against the same crate. “Come on out, Delkin! We’ll take your arms off before we feed ‘em if you do! Promise!”

The crate Conar and Slim were on started to wobble from the force of the guard’s repeated pummels. The animals inside screeched. Slim struggled to keep his balance, let alone keep holding his cap on the sprinkler. Water started to spill down again, much to the dismay of everyone around.

What was worse, it was making the floor they were on far slipperier. Conar was still sitting, keeping a hand over his cigarette, but Slim fell over onto the crate with a thud, and his feet dangled over the ledge.

“What the hell was that?” One of the guards demanded, looking around. Conar scooted back just in case Slim was wrong and they would look up at him, but kept puffing as he turned to his companion. He reached a hand out without hesitation, which Slim accepted without hesitation. In seconds, the  two of them were in the middle again, sitting on cheap wood soaked in cold, greasy water.

They listened as Slig Pants rushed around them, trying to find the source of the noise.

“Coulda sworn I heard somethin’…”

“You don’t think it coulda been…?”

“Abe guy or not, something’s up. We need a vantage point.”

“Gotcha.”

There was the telltale sound of two Sligs grunting, and a pair of whirring Slig Pants stepping on wood.

Slim was prepared to climb the opposite way, but Conar grabbed his arm.

“They could be tryin’ a basic flank,” he whispered. “We oughta go to the right there.”

Slim gulped, looking down at the hissing Paramites they’d be trapped between. Those metal bars would hold, sure, but the way that claw face was going through them… he shuddered to imagine what they could do to his flesh.

He didn’t have to worry, though, as the alarms grew louder, and there was a hiss as steam rushed in from the ceiling along with the downpour.

“Oh, shit!” one of the Sligs cried. “It’s overcooked!”

“What?” the other shouted. “Where’s the phone; we gotta tell them—”

“No time!”

Slim watched as similar panic occurred with other Slig squads. They were all rushing towards one of the doors, banging against them and demanding the barely-awake guards to let them out.

“Guess that takes care of that,” Conar laughed, putting his cigarette out. “Now, lessee…”

Before Slim could say anything, Conar leapt down, taking a leisurely stroll towards the Slog crate.

“A-aren’t you worried about—” Slim called out, before yelping as a burst of steam nearly hit him head-on.

“About what?” Conar shrugged. “We should have plenty of time before anyone comes back on patrol. You can rest easy—”

And then the floor dropped out from the car.

Conar, Slim, countless animals, and a few unlucky Sligs plummeted, unable to focus on anything except the rapidly-approaching greenery below. The cries of any one of them were drowned out by the others, but Conar knew that from the trains above, many passengers would be laughing at their plight.

Thankfully, it was not a long fall.

 Further, there was a well below, and Slim was able to dive into it. He was always told not to hop into them, so he figured if the Glukkons didn’t want him doing it, it could be his salvation. His thought proved true when he was launched back into the air, just enough to gently land on the soft dirt on the shore of some murky swamp water.

Conar was not so lucky, however. As the animal crates went every which way, many shattering to free their inhabitants, Conar had landed straight into the water. He splashed and scrambled to keep his head above water. His mask was blurry, and he tried to paddle towards what he thought was Slim.

“Help! Help!”

To make things worse, he could feel water seeping into his Pants. It not only weighed him down, but he could also feel his legs seize up. It was only a matter of time before he sunk like that Paramite cage.

That blurry silhouette he tried to move towards waved its arms, and shouted something. Even if Conar couldn’t hear him over the splashes, he could at least tell it was Slim, and it looked like he was getting some planks from a shattered crate to try and reach him. He just hoped the board would be long enough.

At the very least, the plank Slim found was long enough for him to lose his balance. He wobbled back and forth for a moment before he was able to adjust his grip and turn towards Conar again. The board swung clumsily, but it was at least within arm’s reach after a few seconds. He gave a sigh of relief, gripping the rescue the instant he could.

But why wasn’t he being pulled to shore?

His still-blurry vision focused on Slim, who was struggling to stay upright. His end of the board was lifting, and Conar was once again feeling himself sinking. The plank grew slipperier, and there was nothing stopping Conar from an undignified death.

Nothing except…

Well, he could worry about his dignity later. For now, his tail pushed against the eject lever. He was used to it being a mere flick, but now he found that his useless lower half was struggling to exit the Pants.

After several agonizing seconds, he finally felt the lever give, and he could feel his Pants sinking off of him.

The moment he didn’t feel the comfort of unpolished metal on his tail, he shot up like a Mudokon that stole some Bounce, and quicky found himself bobbing on the surface.

Slim dropped the plank, slowly turning away as he saw Conar stop splashing. But then, he heard him start shouting again.

“The hell is this? I can swim?”

He turned, and sure enough, Conar’s panicked flailing had become a forceful paddling towards shore, tail acting as a clumsy rudder as he made his way over. Slowly but surely, he made it over, finally reaching the muddy banks of the pond. The transition from swimming to crawling felt… strange, somehow. It was as if something was wrong the whole time.

“Er, you all right?” Slim asked, still not over the sight of a Slig treading water.

“Yeah,” Conar said, “now shaddup about it. Let’s just… see what we can recover and—”

“You there!”

They turned to see another Slig, who was clutching his chest with one hand and pointing a gun with another.

“I… ugh… don’t know what you did,” he said, wincing through the pain, “But you messed with the wrong—”

And that’s when the Fuzzles leapt onto him. It was such a bloody blur that they couldn’t see how many, but it didn’t matter. He was gone in seconds.

Slim scooped Conar up and started to run in the opposite direction, not caring that he was stumbling into unknown foliage, where other Sligs or some kind of monster could find them.

“Hold up!” Conar demanded, trying to crawl out of Slim’s grip. “We gotta find Chairman! He could help us survive!”

But Slim wasn’t listening. He was too focused on dodging trees and stumbling in mud. He sometimes swerved to avoid the origin of a distant roar or screech, but other than that, he was effectively deaf.

“Slim!” Conar cried, trying in vain to flail out and even smack his captor. “C’mon, ya idiot, we gotta—”

He grunted in pain, his tentacles getting hit by branch after branch. His view was endlessly jostled- if something didn’t change, he could throw up or pass out. He could only hope the latter happened first.

Instead, his tentacles instinctively wrapped around one of the less thorny branches, and they held as tightly as Slim was holding Conar. Finally, Slim slowed down, but he was still trying to pull forward, holding onto Conar.

The branch bent, and Conar felt the strain of this tug-of-war. He groaned in pain, knowing it was either this or running deeper into the swampy jungle with no direction.

Slowly but surely, he slipped out of Slim’s tight grip, nearly getting flung off the branch to Odd-knows-where, but his tentacles held true. In fact, they allowed him to shuffle up towards the trunk and right himself, comfortably lying on his stomach again.

Slim, for his part, had fallen face-first into the soft dirt. He grumbled for a second, before noticing he was now empty-handed. He shot up, looking around frantically.

“Conar? Where are ya? C’mon, please!”

For his part, Conar climbed further down the trunk, getting onto the tanged roots below. The moss and Spooce there gave a similar sickly green to Conar’s skin. If it wasn’t for his mask, he’d blend right in, he imagined.

“There you are!” Slim sighed in relief. “I still need a guy who can shoo—”

He gaped, watching as the Slig effortlessly crawled down the roots, as if he was built to do it. His tentacles easily acted as a third hand, keeping him stable all the way, and his tail helped him stay in one place as he stopped to talk.

“Yeah, well,” Conar laughed, looking Slim in the eye. “that’d be easier if you didn’t run away from my gun and all our stuff.”

“Hey, you saw those little things tearing that guy apart! What chance’ve we got against those?”

“Better than out here, all lost and without a weapon,” Conar pointed out. “Unless you have somethin’ we can use to protect our asses.”

He shook his head.

“Man, I’m glad I got a smoke before we came down.”

[kindafooey]

One fun thing about Having Taken A Sip is that every little thing is hilarious by default. I was wondering about what to eat and said to myself "well I always gottem tortillers" and in my current state of mind it was the single most lungbusting thing anyone has ever said in the history of planet earth

[cewpins]

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A post shared by Cewpins (@cewpins420)

Challenge time! TAG a friend who thinks they can do this hit right here. We've got the hands-free lighter on the Lung Buster. Did this for the first time on Twitch the other day and wanted to recreate it. Not as easy as it looks and my damn boney toes make it a weird. I challenge @nate420 @theebrewcrew @the710extractionist @cosmos420 @cooltrainershawn tag someone to challenge them! . . . . . . #bigbongsquad #lungbuster #bonghits #nohands #hugebongrips #stoner #420friendly #StonerFam #floridaman #floridastoner #420florida #twitch #weedtuber #youtuber #cbd #thc (at Florida) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5l4_Y8ByCK/?igshid=13ywxiw6znd2w

[adyhawk]

No aero lid or extreme tuck going on here!! Enjoying a bit of off road fun with @eastkentcx found a new way to pass the long winters #cyclocross #cyclocrossracing #boardmancxteam #lungbuster #wintertraining #cyclelife #cyclepics (at Northbourne Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bp0PQcRlFiZ/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=eaz29k9lhnxg

[lholloway-becreative]

Shower steamers, shower steamers YAY! #relax #breathe #enjoy #deepbreath #shower #sinusrelief #headacherelief #menthol #Lavender #rose #mint #eucalyptus #clove #handcrafted #handmade #smallbusiness #local #lholloway #becreative #lungbuster #heal #rest #peace (at Janesville, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CY2MylDlhvq/?utm_medium=tumblr

[michaelcounsel]

Well that didn't go as planned and I knew it in the first mile, I had a week off through sickness and I felt it in the legs early on. Also note to self; it's never a great idea to race hard while on antibiotics but all in all I was really happy with the time of 19:02 despite being 12 seconds slower than last year. Dublin marathon training starts this Monday for me. #StCocaAC5k #TrimAC #RunnersOfInstagram #LungBuster (at Kilcock) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzS0AQigGyx/?igshid=1q85xx0p0x3t7

[food4stonners]

won this bad bitch at a raffle today! 420

[croik]

My 8tracks could use some bite

Anyone got music recs for something in the Tool and/or Puscifer family but harder? This mix could use some industrial. Thanks in advance!! 🤘

[dandi-8nd]

"Dandi! If I find out you've been eating anymore lungbusters, I will have a fit.

Here. Try this instead: Ever had jerky before? It's a favorite snack of mine. comes in both meat and fish varieties."

*Big Face offers Dandy a pack of jerky that he had made himself, still very fresh*

“WHAT’S THIS STUFF CALLED AGAIN?? Jerk meat?? Well whoever you made it out of must have been a real jerk…..cause this is some GOOD STUFF! I wonder if like the meaner the person the better it tastes!! I’ve had a few grilled roaches before but they’ve never been THIS TASTY!!“

*Dandy slowly closes the bag*

“Okay I’m done…”

*She reaches the bag out towards Bigface but before he could take it, she swipes it back.*

“OKAY ONE MORE! Then I’m done FOR REAL!”

[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar's Ambition, Chapter 11, Draft 1, Part 10

“Food nothing,” Conar grumbled. “I was just going for my Moolah and smokes.”

Slim looked at him incredulously.

“Look around!” he said, stepping back to put some distance between himself and those claws. “Do you see any Vendos, or shops, or anything other than snarling death?”

“Hey!” Conar snapped back, “I’m trying to think about the long term here! Once we get back to a Magog city, that Moolah’ll come in handy!”

Seeing that Conar wasn’t lunging or even approaching him, Slim decided he could push his luck with: “And the Lungbusters?”

Conar shrunk back a little. If he wasn’t a Slig still glaring at Slim with a cold red visor, Slim would have fount the sight almost pitiable.

“I’ve… never been out in the wild before, all right? I need somethin’ for my nerves.”

He took a moment to breath, and shook his head.

“I always wanted to be a RuptureFarms hunter,” he continued, slowly, “and it looks like part of my dream’ll be coming true! It’s… it’s exciting, that’s what it is!”

Slim rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. There, in the brush a ways behind Conar, he saw several pairs of glowing green eyes. The eyes stayed focused on Conar, the Ratz’ heads tilting occasionally. As they did so, the light from their eyes faintly illuminated something beneath them, as if they were pointing to it. 

“You wanna hunt?” Slim asked, pointing to the same spot. “You might want a gun then!”

[ida-of-oddworld]

The sun was high overhead the dusty ridges nearing the Monsaic lines, making it unbearably hot. Ida grabbed her waterskin off her hip and took a long draught from it until she had to gasp for a bit of air.

She had left her home many hours before the sun was meant to rise, that way she’d travel most of the way in darkness when it was cooler.

Unfortunately the last hour of her journey would take place during the hottest time of day.

She paused at a ridge that was overhead — this part she knew was actually one of the flattest bits of land — at some point Glukkons had it paved over as another method of delivering goods and slaves. A highway.

Ida always had a habit of pausing just before she were to scale the ridge and quickly hurry across — to check for trucks.

As Ida flattened her feathers down she lifted herself onto her toes and took a peek — and she let out a soft gasp when she heard the crunchy sound of tires pulling off to the side.

Then the engine turned over and came to an eerily quiet stop. She watched as a slig was hopping out of the driver’s side of the cab and sauntered over to the left-hand lane, lighting up a Lungbuster cigarette. Ida lowered herself down a little, thankful she had been on the passenger side of his truck.

“I guess I’ll have to hunker down and wait for him to bugger off…” She grimaced to herself and began to duck down and out of sight, but then the worn out branding on the side of the shipping container caught her eye.

Sam’s Labor Eggs.

Ida placed a hand over her mouth.

“Eggs! They must be headed towards the brewery..!” Ida bit her lip when her heart began thundering in her chest. “I can’t let them get there! Wait, what would I even do? There’s gotta be way too many to carry..”

“Theo! I can get these to him, he’ll know exactly what to do with them all. Just need to take care of the driver…” Ida took in a breath and pulled herself up onto the pavement and used the truck as cover for her attack.

She crept out quietly and slowly, only taking steps as the slig took drags off his cigarette, he was completely unawares as she lifted her crook up and over her head —

— Until he saw a shadow suddenly looming over him, “Huh???” He turned around, too late, and his face met a hard CRACK of Ida’s staff, where he crumpled to the ground almost instantly. She pulled the keys off his finger and nudged him off the ridge with her foot, where he fell flat on his back a few feet below.

Ida turned to the truck and threw the door open, tossing her crook into the seat. She knew she maybe only had a couple of minutes before the slig came to.

It took her a little bit to cram her huge form into the mostly slig-sized cabin, her knees practically to her chest and head against the top of the roof, but managed to wedge herself in. This wasn’t going to be a comfortable ride for anyone involved.

Ida turned slid the key into the ignition and turned it over until it roared to life, “Oh boy, lets see if I remember how to do this..” she muttered and shifted her foot on the gas and turned off down a slope.

She headed right for the Monsaic Temple.

It wasn’t long until she got close to her destination, seeing how a nice powerful engine was faster than her own two feet, but she could feel the terrain fighting against her.

“Shit.” She spat, the ride had been bumpy up until now, but she came to a stop when one of the wheels finally hit a rock that jumped her off the seat. She grumbled and turned off the ignition and squeezed her way out from behind the wheel.

“Ow — ow — cramp..! Oof..!” She placed her hands on her back and bent backward until her spine cracked, “Ohh..” she turned to the truck and rubbed the back of her head.

She had hoped none of the eggs would be damaged from the bumpy ride, and thankfully there hadn’t been any sligs riding in the container itself, “Sorry kids, I’ll be back with more hands — this is as far as I can drive us! I’ll be back real quick!”

Ida began running along the rocky slopes until she came to the temple entrances, when she finally spotted other mudokons she slowed down and took a moment to catch her breath, “I need… Big Face…! Stole.. Eggs!” She cried between gulps of air.

@somebigface

[hopefulstarfire]

My Dad and his best friend are hilarious. They've been friends for 30+ years and every time they go to text each other, my Dad starts off with "hey treehugger" and his best friend will start off with "hey lungbuster". Like they just have weird fucking nicknames for each other and honestly this is something that needs to happen with every friendship.