#but it was meant for Not Sims

[rivrdin]

ER Whiskey Serenade "Whisky" imported from Elk Ridge & WSS Wicklow Wander "Harrow" imported from Wolf Song Stables (@paradoxist-ts4)

📍 Youngster Herd #3 unedited : 4/??

[bixels]

In the past, people in the Animal Crossing community would make fun of Tom Nook as a sleazy landlord. Since then, he's really rehabilitated his image as this 'heart of gold' businessman (he's the one who puts bells and furniture in trees for you to find! he adopted orphans! he donates to charity!), but New Horizons genuinely paints the most devious version of him.

He's successfully privatized settler colonialism: you pay HIM to move to a "deserted island" (which apparently the oceans in the AC world are just full of) and start a colony that he is directly invested in. At best he's running a weird vacation package scam (you arrive on the island with no money and in debt for "using his services"). At worst, he's using you to set up company towns. For god's sake, he literally has his own fake currency that he forces you to use to pay off your debt. But don't worry, he's repackaged it in a way that definitely doesn't sound like an MLM scam: the Nook Mileage Program!

You're no longer just his tenant or his temporary part-timer, you're his business lackey. The entire tutorial section of the game has you spending actual weeks running around completing tasks and doing hard labor to set up his colony. You're even tasked with preparing his properties and finding buyers for them. No, you aren't a tenant anymore. You work for the landlord. You are directly responsible for finding tenants for him. And he doesn't even fucking pay you. Not for setting up town hall and museum, or his nephew's shop –– which is the ONLY store on the entire island that sells necessities –– or bringing KK Slider to town, or helping populate his town. Not a single cent. No, actually, you have to pay HIM to BUY infrastructure like bridges and stairs and park benches. And all the while, he's telling you're the "resident representative"; you get to call the shots! That the reward is the community's progress. That what you're doing is in everyone's best interest (but most importantly, his).

Since NH's release, people have done a lot of legwork to say that Tom Nook isn't a capitalist while the game shows him at his very worst. He owns the only general store in town. You're forced to use a phone that he modified and branded as his own. Buy Nook-branded furniture and merchandise at the self-serve kiosk in the town hall, a governmental building! There's no conflict of interest here!

But hey, if you're tired of being the landlord/business mogul's goon, you can also find work as a deluxe resort home designer for a company that also pays you in their special company currency that can only be used to buy their products instead of a real salary! Because that's what the Animal Crossing franchise needs! More vacation homes!!!

[soupdwelling]

my favorite somewhat underrated jarchivist moments

“a COMPLAINT? i could just as easily COMPLAIN about her WASTING MY TIME”

“before i address the central point of this statement, namely the question of…. whether the sky can eat people .”

melanie: “i should have known this was a COMPLETE waste of my time” jon: “probably 🙄”

“you don’t seem like you’re in your fifties?? or- or burnt to a crisp”

“you’re serious? you’re going on a date with… the dullard of skull mountain just so you have an excuse to eat a shopska salad?”

“another startling insight from the piercing investigative mind of georgie barker”

“WHAT is my metaphorical pit???”

melanie: “i mean it’s not like you have any reason to kill me” jon: noncommittal sound

martin: “melanie seems okay but i get the feeling she’s planning something?” jon: “i- i got that feeling. Too.”

“so. kidnapped. Again.”

“like colors, but if colors hated me. got it. christ i need a cigarette.”

“MARTIN. STOP trying to TOUCH the PLASTIC EXPLOSIVE. just PUT YOUR HANDS in YOUR POCKETS or SOMETHING-”

basira: “so would you say this was supposed to be churchill or alfred hitchcock?” jon: “jowls like that, could be either”

“coma! great! let’s rearrange his office! sleeping people don’t need. pens!”

“police brutality lawsuit? :)”

[picture of edwardian offense] “I what?”

daisy: “it’s a joke, jon.” jon: “oh! hAha! yes.”

“i mean you’re not suggesting that santa works for the people’s church..”

long-suffering sigh “fuck.”

“i’m starting to feel a little. Self Conscious being a post apocalyptic google !”

martin: “did it stir any feeling in you?” jon: “Yes! Nausea! Because of the Horrible Things In It!”

“Yes the Colossal Web stretching down into an Endless Pit is a Significant improvement😑”

“‘free will’ she says, as we stand in the middle of her FUCKING WEB”

[twentyonefirstmates]

i just cannot stop thinking of jon trying so hard to grieve for the real elias after he Finds Out because elias died scared and alone to the same power that destroyed jon, because elias was also forced to watch his own body become entirely alien to him as he became Something Else, because elias and jon have both been tortured and Changed by the same man, because jon might be the only person in the world who understands what happened to him and is definitely the only person in the world who cares.

But also, jon can't think of elias' face without having to choke back a scream, cant utter elias' name without wanting to cry, cant think about elias' body without the feeling of being watched, worms burrowing into his skin, the agony of not being able to remember his friend's face, his mind being broken, hellish flames on his hand, falling from a great height, a knife against his windpipe, plastic fingers against his skin, dying, coming back wrong, darkness beyond everything hes ever known, dirt in his lungs, losing everyone hes ever loved, strings controlling his every move. He cant grieve for elias without grieving for himself. And he know, he knows, he Knows that none of it was ever elias' fault. Elias was just some poor stupid idiot who ended up in an evil place and had his life stolen by an evil man, just like jon. Jon knows elias never actually did anything to him, but he cant forgive him for the things done by his body. He wants to grieve, he tries to grieve, he does grieve. But he can never grieve properly for the man who was lost because he is inseparable from the man who took him.

[bingle3]

Was supposed to be a quick sketch but transformed into a whole thing, hate that the main drawing is so dull compared to the doodles 🤦‍♂️

I did a good omens drawing but oml its so ass so take this

[rottengurlz]

she’s like if the virgin mary smoked a pack of pall malls every day 🚬

[interdimensionalbugs]

[maxlarens]

Max and 10 please <3

10) spooning at night

Despite the soundproofing you’d installed during Covid, you can still hear Max’s pedals going thunk against the walls of the apartment. The sound accompanied by faint chattering, occasional laughter, cries of outrage as he talks to his friends on stream.

He worries sometimes. But you’d tell him if it bothered you— besides, you like hearing sounds of life in the apartment. You’ve not quite adjusted to the sheer square footage of Max’s penthouse apartment yet, even though you’ve lived with him for years. You grew too used to New York apartments where your bedroom, kitchen, and dining room were always piled on top of each other. It’s strange to have so much space, more rooms than you know what to do with.

Anyway, no, the noise doesn’t bother you. You like to hear him enjoying himself, laughing with his friends, doing something that doesn’t have so much pressure attached to it. You don’t like to take him away from that prematurely, even if you’re missing him.

And you are missing him.

It’s the middle of the night. Maybe past midnight now. You’ve got the windows in your bedroom open, letting in the Monaco sea breeze in a futile attempt to cut through the sweltering heat. The overhead fan whirrs above you. Some mindless show you love drones quietly on the TV, casting you in ever changing colours as you twist and turn in the sheets. Trying to keep your mind off things you shouldn’t be worrying about.

You wait a while, watch an episode.

Then you give in to your selfish tendencies and pull up your Discord chat with Max on your phone, sending off a simple message— come to bed?

You put your phone back on the nightstand and try not to smile too wide when you hear the sim rig thunk and thud as Max climbs out of it a few minutes later. His footsteps on the hardwood floors as he stops by the kitchen and then makes his way to the bedroom.

The door creaks open. Max comes inside, stepping quietly as if you’re already asleep.

“Sorry, liefje,” he says softly, before he ducks into the closet to change, “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

You shake your head even though he can’t see, “You didn’t. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You should have told me,” he sighs, coming out of the walk in closet wearing the oversized cat shirt you’d bought him and worn sweat-shorts with holes in the waistband, “I don’t mind cutting the stream short, not for you. They will survive without me.”

You hum and nod placatingly, knowing you wouldn’t ever ask him to do that. At least not for something like this. You’d only sent that message tonight because you knew he’d already been on for hours and would be wrapping up soon anyway.

“Got it,” you say, opening your arms and beckoning him to get into bed already.

He sighs again, an exasperated little exhale through his nose, and then climbs under the single sheet you’ve got draped over you. He shuffles into your space, pressing a wet kiss to the side of your chin as you press a kiss into his forehead and adjust your arms around him.

“Where are the cats?”, you ask, while Max busies himself with turning around.

You feel Max shrug. He’s adjusting the sheet so it sits over him perfectly and then fluffing his pillows so his head sits comfortably. You reach out to scratch the back of his neck, with three fingers, the same way you scratch the cats out of habit.

“Jimmy’s sleeping in the spare room,” he says, reaching blindly behind him to catch your shirt and drag you closer, “Dunno where Sassy is.”

“Causing trouble,” you laugh, slotting into place at his back.

You nudge your nose into his shoulder and sling your arm over his waist. Curling it around to press into his stomach. Your legs end up tangled, one of yours bent and hiked on his hip. Later, he’ll nudge it off because it twists the material of his shorts, but he tolerates it until you’re asleep.

“Mm,” he agrees, finding your hand splayed flat on his tummy and intertwining it with his own, “Always.”

[souporwholock]

Jon is quite the soggy wet rag of a man isn't he. Have you ever slapped a wet towel against a countertop? I could do that with Jon. Smack. Is your paranoia cured yet towel boy? Or do you need me to wring you out again?

[aheathen-conceivably]

“When I was young, I would spend hours and hours alone in my room, watching this figurine in a music box my aunt gave me. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the hunger, but if I watched her long enough, I could swear she’d come to life…”

[lizard-queen-izzy]

Thinking about Agnes Montague, Gerard Keay and Jonathan Sims. All chosen ones, in their own way. All intended by those who decided they were a chosen one to bring on the end of days. Or die trying. Or die while succeeding. They were only as valuable as their potential. Only worth what they could give.

And death was their only escape from those expectations.

Agnes had her church hang her.

Gerry died and then had Jon burn his page.

Jon had Martin kill him.

I just think there's something about them. Something about them all being doomed in such similar ways.

[fizzytoo]

a witch's tiny studio apartment ✨

[deathbypufferfish]

Welcome to the world Amos Terzi! ☀

[felsicveins]

His heart belongs to another

And no other heart will do

[mattodore]

birthday boy 🎂

[peonypyxels]

more rooms done