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the-most-humble-blog · 5 days ago

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𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘏𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 – 𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘏𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘴!

(For the uninitiated, Warhammer 40K is set in a bleak, dystopian sci-fi future where humanity is crammed into massive hive cities, layered slums stretching miles into the sky. In the depths of these urban hellscapes, food is scarce, and the poor will eat anything—no matter how questionable. The following menu is from a hive-level eatery that specializes in desserts for those whose moral and digestive limits are flexible.)

☠ 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙍𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨: 𝘼 𝙏𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙊𝙛 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙞𝙩 ☠

1. Blood Pudding Pops – 6 Throne Gelt

🩸 "Like a plasma wound... but sweeter!" Nothing beats the crunch of frozen, clotted hemoviscera on a stick! This grim classic is made from recycled nutrient-rich blood collected from underhive meat pits (source unconfirmed, but best not to ask). Flash-frozen and dipped in a glossy sump-oil chocolate shell to lock in that just-slaughtered freshness. If yours still pulsates, congratulations—it’s extra fresh!

2. Rotberry Tarts – 5 Throne Gelt

🍓 "Fermented to perfection! (And legally not a biohazard.)" What’s that tang? Why, it’s our signature "wildly unregulated" fermentation process! We take overripe underhive berries—those resistant to most pesticides and mildly radioactive—and let them stew in their own juices until they develop that fizzy, borderline-alcoholic texture. Each tart is guaranteed to contain at least one hallucinogenic mold spore, so prepare for a spiritual experience or severe gastric distress—whichever comes first!

3. Bone Marrow Gelato – 7 Throne Gelt

🍦 "Creamy, dreamy, and questionably sourced!" Rich, indulgent, and packed with mystery marrow! Our gelato starts with a hearty extraction from bones we “acquire” from reliable vendors—whether they were volunteers or not is above our pay grade. Blended with vat-grown pseudo-milk and synthetic sugar, this treat has a delightfully gamey aftertaste and may come with "bonus memories" from its former owner! Some customers report experiencing strange, unfamiliar dreams after consuming—don’t worry, it’s just a side effect!

4. Nutrient Sludge Trifle – 8 Throne Gelt

🥄 "Corpse-starch meets luxury!" For those who wish to eat like the working-class masses, but fancier! We start with three layers of reconstituted corpse-starch (yes, the same protein-dense ration used to feed the Imperium’s least fortunate). Then, we drizzle it with a questionable "synthetic vanilla" syrup, pile on expired sump-milk custard, and top it off with candied cockroach wings for an extra crunch. The result? A deceptively sweet sludge that reminds you where you belong in the hive’s food chain.

5. Glowspore Éclair – 9 Throne Gelt

🌟 "It lights up! So will you!" A flaky, deep-fried chitin-crust pastry stuffed with bioengineered luminescent fungal cream that grows deep within the toxic runoff caverns. Not only does it glow in the dark (fun for kids!)—it’ll make you glow, too! Some lucky customers have reported seeing their veins light up through their skin. Others have found it difficult to sleep after eating due to the spores taking root in their bloodstream. Either way, it’s a treat to remember!

6. Hive Queen’s Egg Custard – 12 Throne Gelt

🐜 "The egg is... a surprise." Our creamiest custard, infused with nutrient-dense excretions from hive-born arthropods. The best part? Every serving comes with a mystery egg tucked inside. It could be a delightful, protein-rich yolk, or it could be a fertilized larva just waiting to hatch inside your gut! Either way, it’s the gift that keeps on giving.

7. Flayfruit Pudding – 10 Throne Gelt

🍮 "It peels back more than just your hunger!" This smooth, syrupy pudding is made from the ultra-rare Flayfruit, a mutated underhive plant known for its flesh-stripping enzymes. The flavor is a glorious mix of citrus, acid, and mild pain, and it burns just enough to let you know it’s working. Side effects include "accidental loss of soft tissue", and long-term consumers may experience spontaneous shedding of fingernails or lips. Pairs well with bone broth... if you still have bones left.

8. Ration Bar Tiramisu – 11 Throne Gelt

☕ "For the discerning scummer!" We start with old, expired Imperial Guard ration bars (the ones even they won’t eat) and soften them by soaking them in strong recaf mixed with sumpwater runoff. Then, we layer it with synthetic sump-milk foam and dust the top with a blend of carbon shavings and machine oil for that "authentic hive-flavor." The result? A tiramisu that makes you question your life choices.

9. Maggot Mousse – 6 Throne Gelt

🪱 "You didn't hear that squish." Whipped to perfection using the natural movement of hive maggots, this silky, protein-packed mousse is served chilled to slow their metabolism just enough to keep them from escaping before consumption. Be sure to chew carefully—some of them have been known to reactivate upon swallowing.

10. Emperor’s Mercy Pudding – 15 Throne Gelt

👑 "A dessert so good, it just might be your last!" The pinnacle of our menu: a thick, velvety pudding infused with underhive amasec and just a whisper of "unregulated chemical agents." Every batch is slightly different, meaning some experience a blissful, euphoric high, while others experience cardiac arrest within minutes. It’s the perfect dessert for those who wish to leave this world on a high note! No refunds, no liability.

🔹𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟🔹

🦠 "𝙁𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙊𝙬𝙣 𝙍𝙞𝙨𝙠" ��𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙩 – 30 Throne Gelt

Unlimited access to all menu items (if your digestive system survives the experience!)

Complimentary gut parasite removal (if the doc’s sober enough to operate!)

🎭 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙤:

"Sweetness is fleeting. The horror is forever."

🍽 Bon appétit, scummers! 🍽

🔥 REBLOG If you want more!🔥

#warhammer 40k #hive city life #grimdark food #dark sci fi #underhive cuisine #sweet horrors #dystopian future #sci fi worldbuilding #satirical horror #dark humor

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a-scary-lack-of-common-sense · 4 months ago

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More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

#i only have the Paris and Korean subways as frame reference so i have no idea what american subways look like #just imagine the paris subway system- i heavily used it as a reference to draw and write these since it's #the only subway that I know AND looks 1980-ish enough to pass #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls au #<-ig???#there are mirrors in subways right- I've seen a lot of curved wall length mirrors at subway stations #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanley's sketchbook #tw liminal space #tw horror #<- I mean eh- my horror writing skills is sub par at best #cats #tw scopophobia #tw staring #on the other hand- stanley being friends with street cats!! so cute <33 #you can visibly SEE in the fic where I completely lost my grip on the story from 'sweet story about cats' to 'oh my god what the fuck'#my art

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