#is not an starter if you don't want to

[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!!!

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

I think Hawkeyes should share all of their superhero identities. Clint is sometimes Hawkingbird. Kate is Ronin. Sometimes Kate picks up Clint's Captain America shifts. Don't worry about it. They should use the "we're both ____ and you didn't specify which" to the fullest extent. Clint shows up at a Young Avengers meeting when Kate is sick. wym it needed to be Kate you should have said something. Do you see what I'm saying.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[songbirdreaped]

open starter for anybody ; set after lucy gray left the cabin <3 run. run. RUN. was all that could go through lucy gray's head as she sprinted away from the cabin through the trees. she was running as fast as her legs would carry her, everything in her telling her that she needed to get away from him if she wanted to survive. the words kept ringing in her head three's enough for me, he'd told her when she said they wouldn't have to kill anymore. three. she knew of two. bobbin and mayfair. all she'd asked for was the truth, yet she was met with a lie. my old self, coriolanus had told her as she demanded to know who the third was. lucy gray wasn't born yesterday, she could spot a lie from a mile away.

trust was the most important thing to her. trust outweighed love and yes, she had loved him. loved. now, all she could picture was those icy blue eyes gazing into her soul. would he kill her ? she didn't know, but she wasn't taking that chance. she couldn't take that chance. that was why she'd said she was going to pick katniss, her chance to escape and survive. lucy gray wished that she'd heeded dean highbottom's warning, wished that she hadn't let herself fall for the blond. any and all love she felt was gone, now all that was left was the need to flee.

as she kept running, the brunette felt her chest tightening, the crisp air filling her lungs, stinging as her heart raced in her chest. she needed to stop and catch her breath. ducking behind a tree, lucy gray took a moment, the breaths coming out more like gasps as she stayed there. the sound of coriolanus yelling for her caused her to panic more. she wasn't a fighter, he outpowered her anyway, but she could run. she could hide.

when she spotted the snake, lucy gray decided that she'd try to buy herself some time, dropping the scarf he'd given her to cover it up. she knew by looking at it that the snake wasn't venomous, it wouldn't hurt him too badly if he got bitten. it would just slow him down enough for her to get away. after the distraction was set, the brunette began to run again, hoping that the wind in the trees would cover up any noise that came from her feet on the ground.

it wasn't until she was hidden by a tree on the outer part of the woods that she'd realized her earring had fallen out in all of the chaos. she couldn't find it in herself to care anymore. the games weren't over when she'd returned home, these were still the games. her own survival was what mattered. lucy gray almost didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming toward her, but when she did it was too late to run. whoever it was had only been two paces from her now, and with how tired she was, they'd most likely be able to catch her if she ran. her eyes shut tightly as she braced herself for the figure to come closer, assuming it was coriolanus coming to kill her, to finish tying up the loose ends.

❝ just get it over with, ❞ the words came out more shaky than she'd intended. she wasn't usually one for giving up, but she knew that she had no more energy to keep running. if coriolanus had found her, then he won.

[radioiaci]

@a-hazbin-spider ⧐ [alone] or [drugged]? INJURY/HURT ASKS

A night spent in his tower is not altogether unusual. Both his private room and his tower are spaces of safety and privacy - both inaccessible by any other than Niffty who is the singular exception. He expects it to be sometime in the dawn hours when he re-awakens from needed and alcohol-induced sleep, standing to stretch and redirect his gaze out of the large, expansive windows-

To catch a glimpse of Angel Dust who seems to be returning from a night of... whatever he gets up to. Alastor has heard things here and there, but has not bothered to invest more than a cursory consideration as to what the other Sinner spends his time doing. But at the moment, it is less that topic that interests him and more so the fact that it seems as though Angel Dust is grasping onto himself as though he is in pain, hobbling into the front doors to presumably slip inside while the remaining residents are still well within the confines of sleep.

Interesting.

A brief moment is spared in dressing himself appropriately and putting his hair back to rights from its unkempt state before Alastor is slipping into the shadows, using the method of transportation to course through the halls of the hotel and seek out wherever Angel Dust has decided to hole up. One assumes his room, if he's made it that far. But Alastor is not so sure.

He can smell the distinct tang of blood somewhere - and he realizes that there are speckles of it along the carpet. Hard to see, but easy for his own sense of smell to detect.

Temptation draws him closer to where the other sinner is in pursuit of both curiosity and a distinct hunger, his eyes fixated on that light pink expanse of hair when Alastor finally spies him.

"Not being very subtle, leaving a trail to your whereabouts," he says aloud, though the radio demon is kind enough to not shout it out for the remainder of the hotel to hear.

His teasing is mercifully kept just between they two. For now.

[why-the-heck-not]

2nd batch of sourdough! Lots better than the first, actually got some crumb structure this time (bc the starter is finally ready for bread)

[hegrudges]

starter call. hit the heart ( and specify a muse ) to receive a starter from either deadpool or wolverine . length will vary but these will likely be one liners with the intent to lengthen them as we go ! be advised that any starters coming from wolverine could potentially harbor spoilers for the new dp3 movie ! spoilers will be tagged.

[nearestend]

halloween centric alice starter call that i will do at some point. they will be short and most likely pre-established dynamics, if we haven't plotted already. multis must specify your muse or else you won't get one and i will also steal from your house. but you can specify for more than one muse, if you like.

[mcflymemes]

use ask meme replies as starters. if starter calls stress you out, encourage your followers to send memes instead! that way you can pick and choose which meme suits you best, searching for the little sentence prompt in your inbox that most inspires you in the moment. at the same time, not every ask meme reply needs to be continued. sometimes they make better one-shots and drabbles, and that's okay! as long as you and your writing partners are having fun creating and telling stories together, that's all that matters!

[stinkyhyena9000]

Buster Moon Stimboard !!

For my Sing friends still out there, here's some food for y'all

🤍 💙 🤍 | 💙 🐨 💙 | 🤍 💙 🤍

Totally non-abrupt segway to a sentimental message:..

I just wanted to thank all of you for hosting such a lovely and wholesome fandom. I love we're a small community, but y'all have always made me feel so extremely loved, and I'm glad have had y'all be my first and sofar only fandom experience.

Please never stop making art and writing stories!

[angusbyrne]

LOCATION: Woodrow House grounds DATE: Sunday, September 4, 2005 Closed starter for @natcliachen

Angus remembered being told at some point in the last week that the past summer in New York was one of the warmest on record—averaging 4.5 degrees higher than normal. September already seemed geared up to take a similar direction. The day of Richard's funeral was clear and sunny, with a projected high of 78 degrees around noon. Milder than August and balmy, it remained the type of weather you dreamed of when you fantasized about the tail-end of summer while you were caught in the dog days of it. Howbeit, it still made Angus flush around the Piqué collar of his shirt.

He only meant to wander off for a tick. Angus feared a smattering of pink would soon pass across his cheekbones or that he'd quickly become incapable of keeping down the hors d'oeuvres. The afternoon was an endless well of thank you for coming and that's an awfully kind thing for you to say and no, he never told me that story, it sounds extremely amusing and where did you say your son would be interning? I'll be sure to keep an eye out for him. Shaking hands, exchanging business cards, nosey questions, getting pat on the arm—he felt like an exposed nerve, poked and prodded and turned over for examination. He simply needed a break.

As he strode across the lawn—that was what he often did: strode—he caught sight of a familiar outline. Natalia. Neat and pretty as a paper doll, a well-trained eye might've caught the tight creases around her eyes. Tired, maybe. Annoyed by what the man in the dark navy suit said to her, most certainly. He couldn't read the man's lips, but he did judge his choice of light brown shoes. That deemed her worthy of extraction on its own, whether or not she requested one. It would be a quick detour. He approached with no lack of confidence, clapping a hand over the shoulder of the man who seemed to show no signs of reining in his passionate gesticulation.

Angus recognized his face immediately. "Macpherson," he started warmly, donning the mask of gracious host quite seamlessly, though, in the last few minutes, his tie had been knocked very slightly askew. "I've been sent to wrangle you of my own volition. Roger Milton and Graham Atterbury are engaged in a relentless debate. They're talking personal consumption expenditures, disposal personal incomes, mortgage rates—what have you." With a hand still on the man's shoulder, he gently and covertly began to turn him in the opposite direction. "Neither economists, of course. You'll have to save them with your expertise."

It was an easier task for him, getting rid of an obnoxious man. He exhaled heavily once the unwanted third party was gone, turning back to Natalia with a near-pleasant expression. The exhaustion started to crack him a bit, but he still had enough goodwill to extend her a compliment. "It's a testament to your mental fortitude that you were not just brought to tears of boredom," he said. Honest. "Tell me—how long did he go on for?"

[unladielike]

...So since reblogging asks hasn't really helped in instigating more interactions on my blog (because I guess people don't really enjoy continuing asks into threads anymore?), I'll be posting a brand new starter call! Anyways, you know the drill. Like this post for a starter and if you're a multimuse, please specify a muse. Oh, and alternatively, if there's a verse you specifically want to request from Vivian, do specify that too; otherwise, I will default to using a more modern, slice of life setting.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[spidociety]

Headbutts you Headbutts you Headbutts you Headbutts you Headbutts you Headbutts you Headbutts you Headbutts you Headbutts you Headbu-

[linklewinklewoman]

@eightfoldjourney

THUD

"Aha, gotcha!"

Linkle was in a battle of sorts, though she was handling it with easy. A giant boar attacked her. But compared to the monsters back home, this was easy. Bout the same as a moblin in difficulty! It charged at her, she shot a shock bolt at the right time, then had it tumble into a boulder with a hard strike. Right on the head!

With it discombobulated and dizzy, Linkle aimed one of her crossbows at it's head. With it's power, it should punch right through the head and kill it quick. No need to make it suffer. Plush a guy like this would give her decent meat. With only villages here, as least as far as she had been told, hunting food was all but a given.

[vendettavalor]

As Above, So Below

⚔️ For @nemekii 's Hoppy Hopscotch! ⚔️

The years had been far from kind to the factory and its inhabitants.

Well, its remaining inhabitants.

After the Hour of Joy, things had been so perfect. So peaceful. The sweet blissful freedom they experienced - free from the labs where they were poked and prodded and burned and tortured, the cages where they were scent to sleep in the cold loneliness as punishment for any slight or transgression - was a welcome mercy that they'd long prayed on the Prototype to deliver to them. And when He had, it had all been so perfect. They had their justice, their vengeance. And for a time, they only thing they needed to worry about was how best to occupy their time in their newfound freedom.

But as a wise man once said, nothing good can last.

And very soon, the good times grew dull. With time, all the games in the toy factory had been played. All the toys played with. All the survivors hunted. Many began to grow stir-crazy as they realized that autonomy and freedom from restraint was not enough. Many still had homes and families on the outside that they wanted to see. Playcare's artificial outdoors paled in comparison to cherished memories of real, fresh air. The warm sun. The soft green grasses. Soon enough, those that revered the Prototype for His efforts in freeing them began to rebel against Him, challenge Him. They became heretics, and they were shunned with accordingly.

Then, the lean times began. The bodies disappeared. The food ran out. They began to starve. Tensions rose and in their desperation, it became a deadly game of survival of the fittest. Kill or be killed. The shunned became the hunted, until only the strongest or the most loyal remained. Those truly clever and skilled managed to hide and survive against all odds. But so long as the factory remained closed, they remained trapped.

Catnap was truly blessed. Through it all, he had remained faithful and devoted to the Prototype. He carried out His will without question, killing those He deemed unfit and unworthy, fasting at His command, and accepting the scraps of food He offered in reward. Playcare was his territory and he was its guardian. He handled the heretics wherever they appeared, keeping alive those who followed his god as he did and hunting down those that didn't. And though some part of him did hold an inkling of remorse, the past was behind him and therefore easy to push down and ignore.

The feelings of guilt would have consumed him faster than any hunger - but so long as he kept his distance from any reminders of what he once was before all of this, he could press on.

At least, that was what he had told himself. And he had just about convinced himself it was true. But now... now he wasn't so sure.

Not when he could swear he was picking up on the familiar scent of peppermint through the overwhelming smog of poppies and lavender.