Search Results
7/25/2025, 3:26:10 PM
Your face contorts in disgust. This thing was not proofread in the slightest. Hell, you don't think a human ever looked at this.
The kerning is all over the place, the font changes every other page (most of it is COMIC SANS) and most of the products have typos in their name. HARVESTING HIT? SPECIL? MEDICIAL? Most of the product images seem to be AI-generated as well. They couldn't afford to take a PICTURE of something?
Oh and it's only bound together by cheap, shoddy staples you could easily rip out. Correction - One of them already fell out. This is what you're using?
You know what? Whatever. It's not like you can use this money for much else besides hiring people and so far, you only met two or three people. You suppose the vending machines are an option, maybe you can check them out later.
You flip through the pages. They provided you a pencil to mark down what you want. You're stealing this pencil, fuck them, you need SOMETHING to write with. It only takes a few minutes to decide what you want.
>-$1050!
Your low-ranked comrades are also scribbling down on their own catalogs. The barracks door suddenly opens up once everyone is finished scribbling something down on their catalog.
A very rudimentary robot is standing in the doorway. It's a big bulky box rolling around on wheels. The only features on it is a slot on the front of its body. "PLEASE PLACE MARKED CATALOGS IN SLOT. NEW CATALOGS WILL BE DELIVERED TOMORROW EVENING."
Everyone scrambles to throw their catalogs into the maw of the beast. You wait to make sure it's not some cruel joke (like there's a shredder) before you do the same.
Well. You got nothing else to do but to sleep. Your stomach is still fighting for its life thanks to the slop you scarved down.
You throw yourself onto the cheap bed you were 'graciously' provided. You decide it's best to try to get what little sleep you can get. The chittering, mindless noise of inane conversations from your 'coworkers' makes getting any sleep a nightmare in of itself. You can only pray that if you get to Level 1 or something, you can get your OWN FUCKING ROOM.
It almost reminds you of home. Back when you were a kid. You never did have a room to yourself since you had a LOT of brothers and sisters. You don't remember how many, though. Six? Seven? It was a lot at least.
It almost makes you smile but the memory fades as quickly as it appeared.
The chittering and chattering of your fellow researchers is already becoming white noise to you. You'll dwell on your past some time later, you have other things to worry about.
Like getting some sleep. You doubt you're going to get any good sleep either way so why bother getting comfortable? Not like you got any spare clothes to put on, better just wear what you already have on.
There's one thing you can be happy about, at least. You're still alive. That's better than nothing.
Your mind eventually drifts away into a half-awake half-asleep daze. No dreams tonight, just like any other night.
The kerning is all over the place, the font changes every other page (most of it is COMIC SANS) and most of the products have typos in their name. HARVESTING HIT? SPECIL? MEDICIAL? Most of the product images seem to be AI-generated as well. They couldn't afford to take a PICTURE of something?
Oh and it's only bound together by cheap, shoddy staples you could easily rip out. Correction - One of them already fell out. This is what you're using?
You know what? Whatever. It's not like you can use this money for much else besides hiring people and so far, you only met two or three people. You suppose the vending machines are an option, maybe you can check them out later.
You flip through the pages. They provided you a pencil to mark down what you want. You're stealing this pencil, fuck them, you need SOMETHING to write with. It only takes a few minutes to decide what you want.
>-$1050!
Your low-ranked comrades are also scribbling down on their own catalogs. The barracks door suddenly opens up once everyone is finished scribbling something down on their catalog.
A very rudimentary robot is standing in the doorway. It's a big bulky box rolling around on wheels. The only features on it is a slot on the front of its body. "PLEASE PLACE MARKED CATALOGS IN SLOT. NEW CATALOGS WILL BE DELIVERED TOMORROW EVENING."
Everyone scrambles to throw their catalogs into the maw of the beast. You wait to make sure it's not some cruel joke (like there's a shredder) before you do the same.
Well. You got nothing else to do but to sleep. Your stomach is still fighting for its life thanks to the slop you scarved down.
You throw yourself onto the cheap bed you were 'graciously' provided. You decide it's best to try to get what little sleep you can get. The chittering, mindless noise of inane conversations from your 'coworkers' makes getting any sleep a nightmare in of itself. You can only pray that if you get to Level 1 or something, you can get your OWN FUCKING ROOM.
It almost reminds you of home. Back when you were a kid. You never did have a room to yourself since you had a LOT of brothers and sisters. You don't remember how many, though. Six? Seven? It was a lot at least.
It almost makes you smile but the memory fades as quickly as it appeared.
The chittering and chattering of your fellow researchers is already becoming white noise to you. You'll dwell on your past some time later, you have other things to worry about.
Like getting some sleep. You doubt you're going to get any good sleep either way so why bother getting comfortable? Not like you got any spare clothes to put on, better just wear what you already have on.
There's one thing you can be happy about, at least. You're still alive. That's better than nothing.
Your mind eventually drifts away into a half-awake half-asleep daze. No dreams tonight, just like any other night.
7/11/2025, 10:15:35 PM
>wtf is it over?
7/11/2025, 10:14:34 PM
Requesting tensorart links.
Any NSFW ones please.
Thank you.
Any NSFW ones please.
Thank you.
Page 1